#two lanes of freedom

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Round 1, Duel 32 🖤🧡

[ratatattouille]

Why Arcane's Finale Fumbled Pt. 2

In my last post, I argued that Arcane's second season was artistically beautiful and thematically cheap. I broke down where I believed the writers fumbled with Vi's, Jinx's and Viktor's characters, and how the conflict of season 2 should have centred around a war between Piltover and Zaun rather than Piltover/Zaun against Ambessa and cosmic robots. I asserted the the real let-down of Season 2 had to do with its themes and its refusal to commit to the political story it had set up.

Well, folks, on further examination, it actually looks worse than I thought, and I'm going to use two characters--Silco and Mel--to break down what makes the message of Arcane so hollow and even a little dangerous.

Let's get into it.

Silco: The First Proposition

Silco and Vander:

Silco is a character CENTRAL to the themes of Arcane. The setup of the entire drama of the show, the central theme, are these questions: what is the price of progress and are we willing to pay it? Should we pay that price? Or as Silco says it quite bluntly to the first kid we see him give shimmer to: “Real power belongs to people who are willing to do anything to get it.” This story isn’t merely about ambition, but a dialogue on what actual progress costs and looks like. What does a better world look like? Is the better world we’re fighting for better for us or others? And what (or who) are we willing to sacrifice to achieve that goal? Vander, when faced with that question on the bridge answers, “No dream is worth the loss of those we love.”

The death on the Bridge of Progress during the early war/conflict had too high a cost to Vander. Silco, however, “had enough.” Unlike Vander, what happened on the Bridge of Progress radicalized him. Silco, while being drowned by Vander, realized in that moment that he would do anything, not just to live, but to achieve his dream of a free Zaun. With or without Vander. Even if he had to sacrifice Vander. And we soon see, that while Vander dedicated the rest of his life to keeping the vulnerable in The Lanes safe (even if it meant making deals with enforcers), Silco was willing to throw citizens of The Lanes to the wolves on his way to achieve independence for Zaun. Silco calls it, “The necessary violence for change.” And in this episode (3 of Season 1) Silco sets forth a proposition for the entire show: does the path to a better world require violence?

Silco and Sevika:

Silco’s new approach to crossing the bridge of progress, the path to freedom is winding and twisted. Silco embraces that, because only the goal matters: an independent Zaun. Silco won’t be at the mercy of the Council or anyone in The Lanes, and Sevika is into that shit. We saw that she percieved Vander as weak and servile to enforcers. Who she deems abhorrent without remorse (Vander and Grayson are both despised by Sevika and Marcus because they are percieved as being too lenient with their enemies). Silco, however, has an ACTUAL plan.

He creates a shimmer enterprise because having this control not only gives him a monopoly on The Lanes (and the gangs within), but leverage when it comes to manipulating the Council. Violence and the threat of war are the official languages of both Zaun and Piltover. It is how anyone bothers to listen to Silco both in The Lanes and within the Council. We know that the rich Piltovians (like those IRL) only speak money. “Progress” to them is prosperity and legacy (and I’ll get more into that later).

By creating the shimmer enterprise, Silco not only gets his foot in the door, monopoly over the other gangs and factions (thus uniting them), but a metaphorical seat at the table. His name has weight now, which positions him to make demands of Piltover and give Zaun a thriving industry (at least when it comes to money). Especially because (as we see with Salo and Lest) shimmer is also used by the elites. Silco is a brilliant tactician who exploits the hubris of Piltovians (like Marcus, who wanted to be in charge so he can neuter Zaunites indiscriminately), and manipulates them to his own advantage (much like Mel). But when Renni’s son is killed in the mines, Silco’s proposition is confronted once again: isn’t it easy to justify necessary violence when no one you love is the collateral?

Silco doesn’t care about Renni’s son, doesn’t see himself as remotely near Renni’s position. When Twitch calls Jinx his “dog” (something Sevika herself wanted to do lmao), Silco gets twitchy. He doesn’t recognize any similarity between his relationship with Jinx and Renni and her son. Jinx is not someone he would ever consider as up for debate. Which was the point of tension between him and Sevika (a Sevika who’s loyalty he KNEW he needed in order to keep control, especially in the wake of Jinx’s volatility and unpopularity). Nevertheless, Sevika doesn’t betray him in that moment, because she still sees Silco as stronger (even though she believes Jinx is a weakness he needs to get rid of). As with Vander, Sevika views affection for their own at the cost of freedom as weakness.

Yet, funnily enough, she is fiercely loyal. She, like Jinx, is Silco’s “dog.” She shares his weakness, the weakness that makes her zealous for a better world in the first place. But what Twitch and Renni pose to both Silco and Sevika is the unsettling question of: are you really willing to go far enough? Or do you still see yourself as an exception? Regardless, when it comes to Silco’s proposition, Silco WAS SUCCESSFUL (and also accurate in his deductions on what would get both cities to respect him and eventaully give him what he wanted - Zaun). His determination and focus paid off, indeed, it’s hard to see how he could have been successful without the “necessary violence”. It is clear that he wouldn’t have. No shimmer, no independence. Silco, for all his gruesome methods, WAS RIGHT. Except . . .

Silco and Marcus:

By exploiting and manipulating the vulnerable of The Lanes, Silco also ensured he would suffer the same fate as Marcus. Unlike Silco, Marcus did horrible things to protect his daughter. Marcus, at first, had started out as a zealous enforcer, eager to clean out the rats of The Lanes. Although he didn’t plan for Grayson to be killed, he was willing to get rid of her in order to ensure that he would get into a position that allowed him to do what he wanted to do: exterminate rats and be the hero of Piltover.

Silco offers him bodies for Stillwater in exchange for ease of shimmer distribution. Silco is willing to sacrifice his own people, the people Zaun is ironically for, in order to gain influence in Piltover. Silco, however, did the opposite. Because he loved Jinx, he recognized her deepest insecurity and sought to assuage it (inadvertently weaponizing it against her and those who loved her). He let Jinx get close and gave her responsibility so she could feel like she belonged (he let her drug his eye, a delicate process, while she was still thought of as reckless and untrustworthy). He brought her deeper into the heart of the violence and taught her to embrace it. He made her a child prodigy of warfare.

He takes a different approach to Vander (who kept telling the kids to stay out of trouble where they could and used himself as a buffer). So was Silco wrong? Was Vander? The answer was, quite poetically and profoundly, their deaths and the resulting silence. Both died, more or less, at the hands of their daughters. This is something overlooked often by fandom. It was Vi’s choice to lead her brothers and sister into Jayce’s apartment that would eventually bring the enforcers down to The Lanes, sparking the chain of events that would lead to Vander’s death (or had things gone “well,” his arrest). Vi is also how Powder got the arcane stones in the first place. Vi’s encouragement (well-meaning and innocent as it was) played a hand in the disaster that followed.

But the fact that both Vander and Silco die regardless, paints an excellent portrait of the constraints of oppression. Both tried different methods when it came to rearing their daughters. Both methods got them killed and thrust their children into peril. Vander could only have shielded Vi for so long, and Jinx could only have taken so much so young before she broke down completely. The fate of the girls is not merely their fathers’ fault, nor their sister’s. The tragedies of their lives happen due to the simple fact that they were born in The Lanes. No choice, on either Vander’s, Silco’s, Powder’s or Vi’s mattered in the end.

They were always playing a losing game, which is what makes it so fucking INFURIATING when S2 comes along and suggests that “ACKTUALLY the reason everyone’s happy in Ekko’s AU is because Vi died/hextech was no more/Silco and Vander made up).” All of those were symptoms of the bigger issue, not the issue itself. And that is the horrible irony of Silco’s story. He WAS right. But his folly was viewing himself and those he loved as exceptions to the rule. For when Zaun demands the final price, when Jayce asks for Jinx in exchange for his dream being realized, he isn’t willing to pay anymore.

Marcus only crossed the bridge of progress into Zaun for the sake of his daughter (as is shown in a chilling scene where he finds Silco playing with her in her room). Likewise, when Silco FINALLY finishes, after all those years, his march on The Bridge of Progress, like Marcus, he dies in a swarm of bullets. But unlike Marcus, he is afforded time to tell his daughter, “I wouldn’t have given you to them. Not for the world.” Not for his dream. So what did Season 2 do with that?

Summary of Fumblings:

-I’ll tell you what Season 2 did. Season 2 took the biggest shit on one of the most fascinating characters in animated history. The reason I didn’t put that much critique up there was to show you how complex, layered, deep and thoughtful Season 1 was with Silco’s character. Silco in S2 became a cheap gimmick flung in our faces like the marketing team was trying to sell Silco plushies following the release. His back-story in Season 2 clashes horribly with Season 1. If Vander, Silco and Felicia were such chums back then, why did neither Silco nor Vi recognize each other when they met in Season 1? They were quite grown by the time the March on The Bridge of Progress happened. Honestly, there’s too many mistakes and inconsistencies with how Season 2 handles the backstory I don’t even see a point in getting to it

-(excerpt from one of the writers) I can't BELIEVE MY FUCKING EYES! Silco’s respect for Vander, despite the fact that Vander tried to drown him (most likely after the carnage on the Bridge of Progress where Vander realized the cost of war), was that Vander remained dedicated to Zaun’s independence, at least, until he began prioritizing the safety of the children over Zaun’s freedom. Silco’s respect for Vander had never been a goal or motivation. Silco never expressed any desire to be respected by Vander. He merely expressed respect, ONLY because Vander, up until he became the enforcer’s “lapdog,” shared his pursuit of a free Zaun. Silco killed Vander for the same reason Vander tried to drown Silco: they had become a threat to what they held dear - Silco, his pursuit of Zaun, and Vander the safety of his adopted children.

-”We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments.” This conversation is SO FUCKING—rips into mattress and pulls out stuffing Jinx hallucinates Silco from within the cell she’s in at Stillwater, maybe the same one Vi had been in. Silco starts off saying something like “It’s funny how Marcus thought putting Vi in this cell was a greater mercy than killing her,” cluing us in to not just Jinx’s mental state but the very real torment it must have been for Vi as a child as well. SO JUST TO RECAP, WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THE PRISON OF THE CYCLE OF KILLING AND VIOLENCE, OKAY. In addition to that already horrible quote above, Silco says, “. . . and it will continue, long after the two of you.” So, folks, IN CONCLUSION, this cycle of violence (which I have already established like a fucking broken record is EXPLICITLY started and perpetuated by Piltover) is eternal and inevitable. Just let that fucking sink in. Let it settle nice and sour in your gut and then tell me how that GERD feels. Not only is that an appalling thing to suggest about any oppressive regime, it’s also untrue. Yes, humanity has not gone a decade without some form of conflict and struggle, but individual societies have been PROVABLY capable of both progress and regress. Both of which require the agency and active participation of others. And Arcane seems to want to show that progress is indeed possible, but it has already declared it, to some extent, a pointless pursuit in this conversation. Which is it, Arcane S2 writers? Is progress worth striving for, or is it pointless? “Oh my god, you’re so dumb ratatatouille!” you say. “Of course they answered the former! Duh! In Ekko’s monologue when Jinx is trying to kill herself, he tells Jinx that someone special once told him that no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new - someone worth building it for.” GREAT! DELICIOUS, EVEN! Now why is it that Ekko says this instead of Silco? Why isn’t this something Silco would say, given that this was the entire point of his and Vander’s story? That this is what his arc embodied and explored? “You’re so silly! Obviously Silco is a hallucination!” The show explicitly frames Silco as RIGHT and tries to tie in what Silco says with what Ekko says. More sympathetic viewers will say that since Ekko discovered that Jinx was never the problem, that hextech was, and that Jinx was actually the path towards progress - a path Silco had walked so she could run - Ekko approached her as someone he could finally save (and oh boy am I going to get into why that doesn’t work AT ALL later). Is is not Jinx, but the hextech, the ARCANE, that is dangerous. The hextech is the true jinx. It is what will keep the cycle going. That’s why Silco holds the arcane stone near his eye like that in the scene.

And to that I say . . . WELL THAT’S FUCKING STUPID. I don’t care that “Arcane” is the title of the show. It is the cheapest story gimmick I have seen since vibranium, except vibranium REMAINED a plot device and didn’t usurp the theme or political/interpersonal conflicts in Black Panther. Hextech was a PLOT DEVICE meant to be used to explore the themes which became the ENDPOINT. And this story SUFFERS SO MUCH from that simple change. This is why most critics of season 2 say the story should have remained focused on the interpersonal and political reasons characters did what they did, rather than siphoning all their stories into a mission to stop the evil, mystical stones. It is a fucking stupid distraction in S2, where in S1 it had been a beautiful metaphor, a fragment of a mirror that the characters held up to examine their faces.

But by claiming the cycle was the hextech all along, you just shat on everything that made S1 good.

Which brings me back to what Ekko tells Jinx, that she can still build a better world for the people she loves (like Vi, I guess). That’s why she comes back to help her sister. She cuts her hair (a symbol of letting go of the past) and joins Vi to defeat Ambessa and evil Viktor. This is treated as some kind of continuation (or the true point) of Silco’s “ending the cycle” speech. By letting go of Vi (literally) and Silco (also literally), she can finally . . . er . . . stop “running in circles.” So the show tells us she is BOTH supposed to fight one more time to achieve an autonomous Zaun AND fuck off to a new land to escape said cycle—which, what was the POINT of fighting if she still had to “escape” it in the end anyways?

NO S2 HALLUCINATION SILCO, JINX AND VI DID NOT BUILD THEIR OWN PRISONS. THEY SURVIVED THE CAGES THEY WERE PUT IN AS CHILDREN AND THEY DESERVED BETTER THAN THAT GODAWFUL DUMBASS SPEECH.

Do you see why this writing is so horrible? It contradicts itself so many fucking times, no matter how you splice it. Whether it’s about the cycle of violence being the fault of unforgiveness or hextech. None of it makes any sense because none of it was ever established in season 1 as being the cause for any of those things. And by even SUGGESTING that either or both of those could be the cause, the writers send us two very troubling messages: oppression is inevitable and also, somehow, the fault (rather than responsibility) of the oppressed. Actually no, I think the suggestion from the writers is even stupider: oppression is an option and you can opt in or out.

And that is the ultimate insult to Silco’s character and what he did for the story of the show.

Mel: The Counterpoint

Mel and Jayce:

Mel is Silco’s thematic counterpoint. In the story, Silco proposes that progress costs some “necessary violence.” Mel is faced with this same question as a child, when Ambessa presents her with the last remaining heir of a nation Noxus had conquered. Ambessa asks young Mel if they should kill or spare the girl. “Kino says war is a failure of statecraft,” Mel had said, when her mother told her about how her father had made her retrieve knives on the battlefield at ten so she’d know death. War, Mel is sure, is REGRESS not PROGRESS. It is the breaking down of the state, not the making of one. It’s obvious to Mel that sparing this girl, who looks about her age, is the progressive, less barbaric thing to do. Yet Ambessa insists, “Your brother thinks he can talk his way out of anything,” Likening him to being a fox among wolves when a good ruler needs to be both. To which Mel goes on to describe the kind of ruler the new conquered kingdom will need. A woman “with a kind, fat face to charm her subjects”, but moldable, to which Ambesaa basically says “So basically you? Cool. I’m down, but you have to prove yourself to me. Prove you can take it.” This is when Mel is presented with the ultimatum: choose to spare the girl or kill her. “We can show the people we are merciful,” she pleads on behalf of the girl. But Ambessa is firm. If Mel kills her now (a symbol of the old “regime”), she won’t (maybe) have to deal with any uprisings and kill thousands.

But Mel doesn’t swallow this poison, insists that diplomacy is the superior way, and is banished to Piltover, where she undertakes the task of proving herself. She tries to become the fox. She uses her kind, fat face to charm the Councilors of Piltover and utilizes Jayce to use hextech for Piltover so that her work in the city becomes impressive, cements her legacy as a Medarda, validates her as one of them, and ALSO proves her mother wrong, thus liberating herself from her mother’s cycle of violence and re-instating her rightful station as a worthy member of the Medarda clan.

But it’s not JUST that, though. Jayce’s enthusiasm to improve the world with hextech inspires Mel and validates what she felt so strongly as a child that Ambessa staunchly denied. When Jayce shares his dream with her, she goes all soft and says, “We’re (the Medarda’s) not often in the position to give back.” Which is . . . funny, lol. I think she was talking about herself rather than her entire family. Anyway, to Jayce, Mel was the one who gave him a second chance. He and Viktor wouldn’t have gone anywhere without her help. Jayce is likely the first person she’s felt capable of helping (especially outside Ambessa’s shadow), and likewise, Mel makes Jayce feel indominable (remember: “Nothing feels impossible when I’m with you”). Jayce makes her feel good about herself, hopeful that her ways can work. After all, being the fox has worked for Jayce and Piltover.

But Mel isn’t just the fox, and not for the reasons S2 thinks. Why? LONG before Ambessa sets foot in Piltover, Mel receives a letter from a correspondent overseas. She despairs that Jayce is not ready to be the success she needs him to be. Even after he confides in her about Viktor’s illness, to her it is not a personal loss. Like no matter what the meljayvik or melvik shippers say, Viktor and Mel DID NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT EACH OTHER OUTSIDE OF JAYCE. Jayce wants to uphold his promise in helping Viktor, the man who saved him from his own death (AND TRUST ME, WE’LL GET TO THAT) but Mel wants Jayce focused on keeping her investment and legacy IN PILTOVER safe from Ambessa.

So what does homegirl do? She manipulates Jayce into creating hextech weapons. The reason she moves for a vote to make Jayce a councilor on Progress Day is in light of Jinx’s attack. The councilors are worried that someone in the undercity got their hands on hextech and can use it against them. Jayce, feeling responsible for the situation (and that probably having something to do with Caitlyn nearly dying in the attack), proposes to pause all hextech developments until the threat is neutralized. Instantly, we see Viktor’s and Mel’s reactions—panic. Both are running out of time. Mel to make Piltover a success (in that it is able to defend itself from Ambessa), and Viktor to help those dying in The Lanes. So Mel proposes Jayce become a councilor instead.

We next see her examining Jinx’s bomb with Viktor and Jayce. Jayce asks Viktor if it’s possible that Jinx could create something resembling hextech. Viktor, who is busy marvelling at Jinx’s ingenuity and feeling a little proud of his people, says very confidently that “It’s a leap.” Meaning it’s far away from what Jayce and him are developing. But Mel needs SOMETHING to intimidate Ambessa. That, or she recognizes the undercity as a real threat to her dream of progress and prosperity. Legacy. The undercity is ugly and she wants to neutralize it before she loses her chance. Regardless, here, we see her make the choice to be the wolf. The relentless and unmerciful. Focused and driven by her ambition. She will be a Medarda, unlike last time. Armed and prepared. When Jayce asks if she knows for certain that Zaun intends to turn the gemstones into weapons, Mel says, “That doesn’t matter. We’ll assume,” which pisses Viktor off. But then she performs the ultimate manipulation on Jayce. She uses Jayce’s care for the Kirammans and Piltover to convince him that it’s necessary to “protect your people” which, Viktor can tell, does not extend to the people of the undercity.

Once again, Mel is demonstrating that she doesn’t see Zaunites as people. She barely acknowledges Viktor when he protests, saying “That’s not what we invented hextech for!” She merely looks at him, then looks back at Jayce and talks to Jayce. She repeatedly ignores Viktor, talks over him, as if he isn’t there. Doesn’t matter. After all, Jayce is the only one in Piltover worth her time. Piltover is her project, not the dirty undercity. Mel had already sown the seed for Jayce’s rampage by the time Ambessa showed up.

“Stay away from Jayce!” she says, and yet Mel is what brought Ambessa close to Jayce both physically and ideologically. For hextech and Piltover (the City of Progress) to be safe, Jayce has to commit some “necessary violence for change.”

This isn’t only Ambessa’s fault, but Mel’s and Jayce’s errors as leaders. By neglecting the undercity, Jayce fails to see how his innovations could be weapons until it's too late. Mel is also so focused on Ambessa as a threat that she neglects the threat of the undercity, a place that only became a threat because of YEARS of failed state-craft.

Jayce acquiesces to Ambessa's rhetoric since the attack at the bridge, and proposes to the other council members to go into The Lanes with force, which they are all (including Mel) hesitant to do. But then Jayce goes ahead anyways, and kills a kid (which we’ll come back to), and he not only regrets it, but does a 180 and returns, like Mel, back to his core values — peace and progress over prosperity or legacy. He makes a deal with Silco and then goes and tells the Council what’s up. Mel, now utterly convinced of her position, is the first to cast her vote in favor of an independent Zaun, and removes the Medarda ring while she does so, signalling her disdain for all the clan represents. Not only that, but she smears gold over the Noxian ships in her painting, which her mother correctly reads as a rejection of Noxus and an embrace of the Piltover her and Jayce want to build. Mel does not anticipate the attack, and Mel, in the last frame of the finale of Season 1, is the first target of Jinx’s bomb, the first councilor it was going to hit while her back was turned to it.

Mel and Viktor:

Mel’s parallel with Viktor is interesting. Mel’s interest in hextech (and initially Jayce) are to her own ends, later becoming altruistic (Viktor’s interest in Jayce also starts as an interest in his theories although his motivations were altruistic from the start). Jayce reminded her what she wanted to be in the first place. That her family name, like Jayce’s was to his, was a ball and chain around her neck. Holding her back from true progress. From a better world. A better legacy. Viktor comes from nowhere-land. Viktor doesn’t have a family legacy to inherit. Viktor is a Zaunite. And soon, much like Viktor, Mel is going to have to work hard to create her own legacy. Both Viktor and Mel are sort of outsiders in Piltover. As is shown in S2 with Salo, Piltover, the Fake City of Progress, has no accommodations for the disabled, which makes Viktor stand out like a sore thumb (also, Viktor is the one who made his own leg brace). Mel is a foreigner who has to make a name for herself before she can latch onto the Medarda title. Viktor wants the city to be good, while Mel wants the city (and herself) to look good by matching the strength and prosperity of Noxus.

This is why Viktor gets so sassy with her lmao. He sees through her manipulations and notices that she is pulling Jayce away from what they’d set out to do together (he is also annoyed at how easy it is for Jayce to forget). Mel is the one who tells Jayce it would be wiser to let the council members get away with their criminality (all while cracking down on The Lanes), which makes them wealthier, something that pushes Jayce deeper into his own prejudices against Zaun, where he starts seeing himself as primarily a caretaker of Piltover rather than hextech, as a councilor rather than a scientist, and it jeopardizes his relationship with Viktor.

But Jayce helped her re-connect with the values all three of them shared deep down. The desire to help people and make the world a better place. After the bridge massacre, Mel wants to put her charm and diplomacy to good use, and she does so in the Council Room when she votes for Zaun’s independence.

But here’s where the FUMBLE happens. In S2, we see that Mel’s magic seems to have shielded Jayce and herself, but not Viktor. Not only that, but it’s hinted that Viktor’s magic is resistant to her touch. We don’t get any answer as to why that is (although I’d like to think that was Viktor being petty even while unconscious). This is especially weird since the arcane is alluded to be where the mages get their power (and isn’t it convenient that Viktor became a mindless war machine controlled by the corrupted/corrupting arcane instead of a mage when we see that in other universes he is indeed a mage already?). Not only that, but Viktor can clearly “touch” her magic through the puppet, later on.

Jayce keeps asking her why he was spared and Viktor wasn’t, and Mel, once again, cannot answer him. She knows that her magic protected her and Jayce, but once again, Jayce is lowkey asking why all these horrible things keep happening to Viktor instead of him. Why he is spared instead of Viktor. Unlike Mel, I have an answer. The answer IS PRIVILEGE JAYCE NOT THE FUCKING ARCANE AND THE MYSTICAL NATURE OF MAGIC OR SOME UNKNOWN FORCE OF FATE. Viktor’s tragedy was something that could be helped by both hextech and just Piltover not being a bunch of fucking asswipes. Viktor’s “bad luck” was actually just piss poor governance, or as Kino would say, “a failure of statecraft.” When Mel forsook her original ideals in order to pursue her mother’s acceptance and her family legacy, she did what all the other council members did: make themselves comfortable in places of power at the expense of the oppressed. In order for her to reclaim herself, she had to abandon Noxus and her dream of returning or belonging to the Medarda Clan. Mel has to choose between her family’s legacy and her own longing for progress and dedication to mercy over violence.

Mel and Ambessa:

While Jayce has to fight Victor (who is really now reduced to just another weapon Jayce created that’s gotten into the wrong hands - and more on THAT later), Mel’s task is facing down her mother. By removing the context of oppressed/oppressor inherent to the Piltover/Zaun dynamic, we fail to explore S1’s setup for Mel. IT SHOULD BE NOTED that the reason diplomacy worked for Mel and not Silco was because of their differences in power. When Viktor tells Jayce “There is always a choice” after Jayce expresses his doubts regarding what Mel said about the Zaunites making hextech, Viktor was talking about Jayce’s choice. Mel’s choice. Mel could have chosen to be diplomatic, even with the threat of Jinx. But instead she forsook her ideals in pursuit of her desire to become a Medarda and, like her mother in her dream, preferred to eliminate the threat rather than integrate (Zaun). Even if she back-tracked by the time her mom came back.

Mel has to face the fact that, like Jayce, she betrayed her values and initiated something horrible: the war she’d always dreaded and despised. Mel is why Ambessa heard of the weapons in the first place. But S2 doesn’t focus on this at all. It barely acknowledges it. Instead, Mel is sucked into the Black Rose and told she’s a mage and that her mother must die for the sake of nameless nations the Black Rose mentions. You see, Ambessa is a scapegoat. An excuse to halt and dissolve any meaningful discussion on Piltover’s (and Mel’s) hand in the plight of The Lanes.

By making Ambessa the big bad, the council members and other Piltovians complicit in Zaun’s desperation get a free pass. Both in the show and by fandom. In fact, Mel can now be regarded as a hero (one of the GOATs of Arcane, if I recall) for killing Ambessa, then being christened the wolf by her mother. We don’t have to reckon with the fact that for most of the time she ignored Zaun, and that when Zaun got her attention, her first instinct was to weaponize Piltover, saying, “The peace was already broken.” And I’m pretty sure the reason she did this was LARGELY for ambition, because not more than an episode later, she’s backtracking, insisting that Jayce doesn’t know war like she does, that they should simply give Silco what he wants.

So Viktor was right. She wasn’t forced to create hextech weapons. She wanted to do it for her own gain. And Jayce rightfully gets mad at her in S2 when he recognizes her manipulations (even if he himself was complicit). He does, however tell her that “No one can control you and you’ll never be a passenger.” Once again affirming her incredible power—only this time, the focus is magic and not her political prowess. AND ISN’T IT CONVENIENT THAT MEL “DOESN’T UNDERSTAND” HER EMPATHIC POWERS SO SHE CAN BE TECHNICALLY EXCUSED FROM HER DECISIONS IN S1? HOW COOL IS THAT?!

Lmao when Mel starts lecturing her mother in the finale with “Mother, look at the price of your ambition,” it’s like . . . okay? You exacerbated this war long before your mother, girl. You were the one on the council for YEARS before she arrived. Mel, like Caitlyn, gets to play saviour while barely taking any credit for the fact that she was largely responsible for where Zaun and Piltover ended up (sis literally determined council votes singlehandedly). When Mel stands on the other side of the Bridge of Progress, she sees a trail of violence. She decides to cling even more firmly to her core values. Silco was right, but so was Mel. You see, diplomacy wouldn't have worked for Silco, but it could work for Mel, because Mel had power.

Summary of Fumblings:

-And what was that, “(Piltover is) the city I built for my family” BS? By the end of S1, it is clear that Mel wants NOTHING to do with being a Medarda anymore. She wants to keep Noxus and Piltover SEPARATE. So why does she tell her mother, “You will never be a Medarda” as some kind of gotcha? Lmao, like why tf does that matter? How would she know? Why would she care? Other than her and Kino, what other benevolent Medardas are out there that makes her say this?

-The Black Rose warns Mel of Ambessa’s “thirst for legacy” (much like Mel’s) leading to a worldwide calamity. Mel wants to imagine that her mother prizes her own children over her pride, but the Black Rose insists that’s not true. That Ambessa is willing to sacrifice her children for more power and legacy. We do understand, however, that when Ambessa is confronted by the Black Rose, she is resorting to hextech so she can avoid using Mel (”she’s safer as our enemy”). AND THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE IF THE THIRD ACT ACTUALLY ACTED LIKE IT. How is Mel going to be this really great weapon that Ambessa doesn’t want to use because she loves her (which like, why didn’t she love Kino then if it wasn’t about magic?), but also simultaneously SENT AWAY TO A DISTANT LAND OUT OF HER WATCH? So now she’s hiding Mel, but she wants to pursue the arcane that is waking her mage-ness up and making it impossible for Mel to hide? Ambessa was literally there in the council room in the aftermath of the explosion. She knew Mel had used magic to protect herself and Jayce, but she didn’t do anything? Say anything?

Now most of this is clearly setting up another story in Runeterra (which means my criticism will ultimately be left to conjecture), so I’m going to focus instead on her last words to Mel: “You are the wolf.” The wolf being a symbol (at least in callback to season 1) of ruthlessness and fearlessness: the opposite of mercy. Why does her mother say this? Because Mel finally made a kill? Or because she killed to protect what she built? Finally embraced her power? Yeah, let’s go with that last one. Mel’s development in S2 becomes one where we focus on the power she’s always had, both magical and influential. Yet the show focuses more on the cool magic part than the rammys of Mel’s decisions in S1. It ignores her political power and frontlines her magical abilities, even making her political prowess partly due to her magical empath powers . . . like . . .

-Mel had dislodged her legacy from the Medardas by the time S2 rolls around. . . except no she hasn’t. In the end, Mel is sailing back on the Noxian ships she painted over, and she is doing so as the new Warlord (even wearing what looks like her mother’s cape) because she is the badass wolf, the leader that her mom wasn’t. And how did she achieve that power? Magic. Why does she want to go back? To reform the Medarda name? To take on the mission her mother couldn’t finish against The Deceiver? Because Jayce is dead? Who even cares at this point, this is mainly happening for the spinoff. It isn’t illogical, it’s just the least interesting approach to her character. Mel had much more agency in S1, and her political prowess made her formidable. But that doesn’t matter anymore.

-Her whole arc in S1 was all about her finding the courage to leave the Medarda name behind in pursuit of true progress, but then she kills her mother and sails away from Piltover, the city she fought to protect and killed her mother for and is all about probably reforming the Medarda name—and that’s her job done? Is it me, or is that a reversal of her—pardon the pun—progress? Also, she grew up in Piltover, it must be more of her home than Noxus ever was. Not only that, but making Ambessa go from an imperialist tyrant to this woman bravely fighting against a larger, more powerful threat cheapens what Noxus represented for me. Sometimes conquerors do be conquering, and they make threats up to justify their greed. Not the other way around. It’s not too egregious, but it would’ve been nice if the Black Rose had been more of an epilogue thing.

-sigh I know I’ve said it before but it’s because it’s true . . . the conflict should have remained between Zaun and Piltover and Ambessa was a cheap way out of what S1 was building up

-Ambessa was not who Mel needed to physically defeat, but someone she needed to ideologically defeat. And we don’t see any of that. By the time Ambessa calls Mel “the wolf” it’s hollow, because it’s about Mel being a more powerful combatant than a wise ruler. In this moment, her “foxness” is about how she figured out the “deception” of the Black Rose and not how she outmaneuvered her mother politically. Perhaps it would be epic if we knew what the fuck she meant by “I see your face deceiver!” and then super sayan-ing out of nowhere. Her not having mercy on her mother is about being a Medarda, a question that wasn’t the focus of season 1, merely a catalyst. Becoming a Medarda was the goal Mel had, not the need. She needed to learn how to rule. Instead, she learns how to kill. And then she’s off to her home in Noxus as more of a soldier and spy than a queen. 

Which likely means two things:

-S2 got bored of Mel and just gave her cool reflective powers to make up for it. Making every interesting development about her character happen off-screen, in the writers room, or on another show.

-S2 was deliberately trying to communicate that it sided with Ambessa. That violence and combat, war, is not merely a failure of state craft, but necessary or inevitable to political growth. That militarism is the only thing that can answer militarism. That the only way to ensure the progress you make is secure is arming yourself. Even though this topic has some grey areas, Arcane explicitly picks a side by narratively using Ambessa to justify Piltover’s weaponization of hextech.

i know fandom has a lot to say about Mel being a “strong-black woman” character, but as a black woman myself, I hated how they stripped her of what made her such a strong, enigmatic presence in S1. Her prowess, her wit and cleverness. Her sheer intellectual power made her so FORMIDABLE.

She’s just a lost, hurt uwu little puppy for most of S2 before she’s given her US government assigned Avengers superhero uniform.

Mel in Act I was already using Lest to spy and we almost got a good story then—POOF!—Black Rose.

-Mel’s contribution to the development of hex-tech every step of the way is completely ignored. Instead Viktor and Jayce take full responsibility.

Conclusion:

Mel and Silco's arcs both ask: is violence necessary for progress? Both answer yes, but Mel's remains a little unsatisfactory. Because Mel had a choice. She had power. Power that Silco was willing to do (almost) anything to get. Both Mel and Silco's presence in S1 were formidable, and what made them so intriguing was there thorough understanding of people, both the good and the bad. But in S2, at least for Mel, what made her such an agentive character is thrust aside for spinoff hype. It's not that it isn't cool, it is. It's just one of the things that made S2 feel not only chunky, but disconnected from the roots of its story in S1. Both Silco's and Mel's characters in S2 reveal a very poor (or troubling) view of oppression, power dynamics and politics.

Anyway, that's just me. I was gonna do Ekko, Caitlyn and Jayce as well, but this post got too lengthy. I'll probably need to whittle it all down later. I've already cut so much.

[pucksandpower]

Fantasy Come to Life

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content, CNC, drugging, and conditioning

Kinktober Masterlist

The streets of Monaco glimmer under the soft afternoon sun, a golden haze coating the narrow lanes of boutiques and cafés. Your sandals click against the cobblestone as you make your way towards the boutique district.

Excitement pulses in your veins. The air smells of salt from the sea mixed with expensive perfumes wafting from open shop doors. A vacation, you think. Finally, a breath of freedom.

There’s a group of tourists ahead, their laughter bouncing between the buildings, but you don’t pay them much attention. You’re too busy thinking about the new dress you’ve been eyeing since last night. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll-

A hand. Suddenly.

It’s over your mouth. It’s over your nose. You barely process the scent of something sweet before your body reacts, muscles tensing as you thrash, trying to scream. But your voice is gone. Your world is tipping sideways. The bustling streets dim, muffled voices becoming far-off echoes.

You struggle. Harder now, your legs kicking wildly, hands flailing to grab onto something — anything — but it’s useless. The arms around you are too strong, pulling you back, pulling you down. The cloth over your face smells like chemicals, sickly sweet and heavy.

The light above you begins to blur. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the fading streetlights, for the sky, but everything’s too far away. Your limbs stop responding. You’re falling.

And then — nothing.

***

When you come to, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Everything is hazy, dark. You try to move but your body doesn’t listen. Panic flares. You can barely breathe, and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Then you hear voices. Men, low and murmuring, their words filtering into your consciousness through the haze.

“... should be waking up soon,” one of them says. His voice is smooth, calm, like this is all perfectly normal.

“Why her, though?” It’s the driver, speaking in a clipped tone. The rumble of the engine thrums beneath you, the subtle vibration reminding you that you’re in a car. “There are thousands of beautiful women here, Max. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

There’s a pause.

And then, a deeper voice, Max, answers.

“I knew the moment I saw her,” Max says, his tone dark, possessive. “She’s meant to be mine.”

Your heart thuds. You can hear him shifting in the seat next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

The driver scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” Max replies smoothly. “Some things are undeniable.”

His words drip with confidence, like this is all part of some grand plan that only he understands.

You try to move again, to make a sound, but your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, and fear curls in your stomach like a fist. You’re trapped, lying motionless in the backseat of this car with two strangers, one of whom thinks he owns you.

“She’ll resist,” the driver says. “They always resist.”

Max chuckles, low and quiet. “Of course she will. At first.” There’s a pause, then you hear him shift closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I’ll make her understand. She’ll be perfect once I’ve made her mine.”

The air around you feels suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You want to scream, to cry, but your body remains limp, powerless under whatever they’ve drugged you with. You try to focus, to force your eyes open, but it’s like swimming through quicksand.

“She’s pretty,” the driver remarks after a beat. “But not worth all this. You really think she’s the one?”

Max lets out a quiet laugh, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “She is the one. I’ve seen plenty of women, but none like her.”

The driver grunts, unconvinced. “You sound obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max corrects him, his tone calm, deliberate. “I’m certain.”

A silence stretches between them, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of fabric as Max leans back.

You fight against the drug still clouding your senses, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The luxurious leather beneath you, the soft vibrations of the car — this isn’t just any car. It’s expensive. You can tell by the way it smells, by the subtle way it moves over the road. These men — they aren’t amateurs.

“What’s the plan, then?” The driver asks, breaking the silence. “You can’t just keep her like this.”

Max takes his time responding. “I’ll introduce myself properly once she wakes up. Once she’s calm.”

“And if she’s not?”

“She will be,” Max says, a thread of steel weaving into his voice. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Your stomach churns. You try again to move, to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s like your body is a prison, and you’re trapped inside, helpless. You feel Max’s gaze on you, heavy, unyielding. Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s watching, waiting.

“You’re insane,” the driver mutters, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Max doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is low, quiet, almost intimate. “You don’t understand,” he says. “She belongs to me. I knew it the moment I saw her walk out of that hotel. I could feel it.”

The driver sighs. “I still don’t get it. Why go through all this trouble? She’s just a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Max snaps, his patience thinning. “She’s the girl. The only one.”

Your pulse quickens. You’ve heard enough to know that whatever Max wants from you, it’s not something you can just walk away from. There’s something dangerous about the way he talks about you, like you’re an object, something to be claimed and owned.

“Whatever,” the driver says, clearly done with the conversation. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do,” Max replies, the confidence back in his voice. “Now, keep driving.”

There’s a shift in the car, a turn, and you feel the momentum change as they head somewhere new. You fight to stay conscious, to fight through the fog in your mind, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus. The drugs are still working their way through your system, and you can feel yourself slipping.

Max leans in closer again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll wake up soon. And when you do, we’ll start over. Properly this time.”

The car hums beneath you as it continues its journey, and with every second that passes, you feel yourself fading again, drifting away into the darkness.

***

Time slips away, and you don’t know how long you’ve been out when you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, and the world slowly comes back into focus. The car has stopped, parked somewhere dark and quiet. You can barely move, but you manage to shift slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the leather seat beneath you, the tightness of your clothes against your skin.

There’s a rustle next to you, and then Max is there, leaning over you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a faint croak.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still a little out of it.”

Your heart races, and you try to push yourself up, but your limbs are still sluggish, your body refusing to obey.

Max watches you for a moment, then smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “This will all make sense soon enough.”

You want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but you can’t. You’re trapped, and Max knows it.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’ll make sure you understand that.”

Terror grips you, but there’s nothing you can do. Not yet.

Max sits back, his eyes never leaving you, and for the first time, you realize just how much danger you’re in.

The world outside the car is quiet, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness. You’re groggy, trying to push through the fog in your mind as Max’s hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt. His touch is efficient, calculated, not gentle. The door opens with a soft click, and you feel the cool night air wash over your skin.

Max leans down, his face close to yours, eyes sharp and watchful. “I’m going to carry you inside,” he says, almost as if he’s giving you permission to protest. But you can’t. You can barely lift your head. The drug still lingers, turning your limbs to lead.

Without another word, he slides his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly. His grip is secure, possessive, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he carries you out of the car and toward the looming silhouette of a villa in the distance. It’s massive. Larger than anything you’ve ever seen in real life, with sprawling gardens that stretch into the darkness. The villa itself is lit from within, a soft glow spilling through tall windows. It’s beautiful in a cold, detached way, like a piece of art you can admire but never touch.

As Max carries you up the long driveway, his pace is steady, unhurried. He isn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He’s confident. Why wouldn’t he be? There’s no one around. No one to help.

“Where are you taking me?” You manage to whisper, your voice weak but steady enough to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind.

Max doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even look at you. “Home,” he replies simply.

You swallow, the word landing like a stone in your chest. “This isn’t-”

“It will be,” he cuts you off, his voice calm, like he’s already made up his mind about everything. “You’ll see.”

You try to focus, to take in every detail. The way the villa seems to stretch forever, the heavy scent of flowers in the air, the distant hum of the sea. The weight of Max’s arms around you, the way his fingers press into your skin as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not slipping anywhere.

He carries you through the grand entrance, past doors that swing open with ease, revealing a marble-floored foyer that’s so pristine, it feels untouched. There’s a quietness to the place, a hollow, echoing silence that sends a chill down your spine.

The sound of Max’s shoes against the marble floor is steady, rhythmic, as he carries you through the house. You catch glimpses of rooms as you pass — an opulent dining room with a crystal chandelier, a sitting room with velvet chairs and enormous windows. But it’s all a blur, your mind struggling to hold on to details as exhaustion pulls at you.

Finally, Max stops in front of a set of tall double doors. He shifts you slightly in his arms, then pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder. The room beyond is lavish, even more opulent than the rest of the villa. The bed is massive, draped in silk and velvet, with heavy curtains framing the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The walls are lined with dark wood, polished to a shine, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting soft light across the room.

Max walks over to the bed, lowering you gently onto the soft mattress. Your body sinks into the silk sheets, and for a moment, it feels like you’re floating. But the comfort is fleeting, replaced quickly by the suffocating weight of reality.

He stands over you, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s searching for something. “This is where you’ll stay for now,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Until you understand.”

You blink, struggling to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Understand what?”

Max’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “That you belong here. With me.”

You want to argue, to scream, to do anything to break through the haze that’s clouding your mind. But the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a shaky breath.

Max moves to the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with that same unnerving calm. “This is the beginning,” he says softly. “The conditioning will start now.”

Your heart lurches. Conditioning. The word feels clinical, detached, like something out of a textbook. But the way Max says it makes it clear that this is no abstract concept. This is real. It’s happening to you.

“What are you talking about?” You whisper, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

Max steps closer, his gaze steady, almost gentle. “You’re going to learn to associate certain things with me. Pleasure, comfort, safety. And you’ll learn that being without me ... hurts.” He says it so simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twists. “You can’t ... you can’t do this.”

“I already am,” he replies smoothly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The process is simple. Every time you wake up, you’ll feel better when I’m here. Worse when I’m not. Eventually, it’ll become instinct. You’ll crave my presence. You’ll need me.”

Your breath quickens, panic rising in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Max tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “Maybe,” he says, almost casually. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Max doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn to look as the door swings open. A man enters, dressed in a white coat, carrying a small bag in one hand. He’s older, with graying hair and a sharp, clinical air about him. He looks at you briefly, then turns his attention to Max.

“Everything’s prepared,” the man says, his voice clipped and professional.

Max nods. “Good. Let’s begin.”

The man moves to the side of the bed, setting his bag down on the nightstand. You try to push yourself up, but your body still feels sluggish, uncooperative. Fear surges through you as the man opens the bag, pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

“Wait,” you rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

Max moves closer, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s for your own good,” he says softly. “You’ll understand soon.”

The physician takes your arm, finding a vein with practiced ease. You flinch, but the needle is in before you can even protest. The liquid burns as it enters your bloodstream, a slow, creeping warmth that spreads through your body.

Your vision starts to blur again, the edges of the room fading into darkness. Max’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

“You’ll wake up soon,” he says, his voice gentle, almost soothing. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Right where I belong.”

***

The next time you open your eyes, it feels like hours have passed. Maybe days. You’re not sure. The room is the same, the heavy curtains drawn, the chandelier casting its soft glow across the dark wood and silk.

Max is there, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching you. His presence is like a weight in the room, something you can feel even before you fully register it. The sight of him sends a strange warmth through your chest, a flicker of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and steady.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that still clings to your mind. “What ... what did you do?”

Max leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you,” he says softly. “The conditioning has begun.”

You try to sit up, but your body feels weak, drained. The drug — whatever they gave you — is still working its way through your system, dulling your senses. But even through the haze, you can feel it. The strange pull toward Max, the inexplicable comfort that his presence brings. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“You can’t-” you start, but your voice falters. The words don’t come as easily as they should.

Max stands, moving to the side of the bed. “I know it’s confusing right now,” he says, his tone almost kind. “But it’ll get easier. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. You’ll stop fighting it.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “I’ll never-”

“You will,” Max interrupts, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reaches out, brushing a hand over your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. The warmth that spreads through you at the contact is immediate, overwhelming, and you hate it. You hate the way your body responds, the way your mind seems to betray you.

“I’ll leave you for now,” Max says, pulling his hand back. “But don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

Your heart races as he steps away, moving toward the door. The thought of him leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you can’t understand why. This is what you want. To be free of him. To be alone.

But as the door closes behind him, the room suddenly feels colder, emptier. The warmth he left behind begins to fade, replaced by an aching void that gnaws at you from the inside.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it, trying to cling to your own thoughts, but the emptiness crashes over you like a tidal wave. It’s immediate — sharp and suffocating, spreading through your body like a cold fog. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the ache pulses deep inside you. Your muscles tense as though they’re bracing against a storm, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The room feels unbearably quiet without him, as though the air has been sucked out, leaving only a hollow silence behind. You hate this. You hate how quickly your body has betrayed you, how quickly the comfort of his presence has taken root inside you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. It’s the drugs, the conditioning.

But the longer he’s gone, the more unbearable the ache becomes. It’s subtle at first, like a distant pressure, but it grows stronger, clawing at your insides until every nerve feels raw and exposed. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you fight against the pull, but it’s relentless.

Time stretches out. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, staring up at the ceiling, but it feels like an eternity. Every second without him feels like a thousand needles pressing into your skin. Your body screams for relief, for the warmth of his presence to soothe the burning ache inside you.

You grit your teeth, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This isn’t real, you think, but your body doesn’t care. All it knows is that it hurts.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens.

The relief is instant. The moment Max steps into the room, the ache that’s been gnawing at you recedes, replaced by a wave of warmth that rushes through your veins. You hate it. You hate how quickly the pain fades, how easily your body responds to him, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Max walks in slowly, his eyes locked on you, taking in every detail of your face as if reading the changes in your expression. You don’t need to speak for him to know what you’re feeling. He can see it. He can see how desperate your body is for the comfort he brings, even though your mind is screaming for it to stop.

“I told you,” Max says softly, moving closer to the bed. “You’ll feel better when I’m here.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat feels tight, the words trapped inside you, and the worst part is you don’t know if they’d come out as anger or something worse.

Max sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle, careful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “That’s what I’ll always do. As long as you behave for me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He says it like a promise, like he genuinely believes that he’s helping you.

“I don’t need you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Max’s smile is soft, almost pitying. “Your body says otherwise.” His fingers trail down your cheek, brushing against your skin. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll always feel better when I’m close. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

You try to pull away from his touch, but your body betrays you, craving the warmth and relief that comes with his proximity. The ache that had threatened to consume you moments ago is gone, replaced by a simmering heat that spreads through your limbs, making your skin tingle under his fingertips.

Max watches you closely, his eyes dark and calculating as he gauges your reaction. “See?” He murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’re already starting to understand.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, but even as you say the words, your body is reacting to him, leaning into his touch despite the protests screaming in your mind.

Max doesn’t flinch at your words. If anything, he seems amused. “Hate me if you want,” he says, his tone light. “But your body knows the truth.”

His hand moves lower, trailing down your arm, sending a ripple of sensation through you that you can’t control. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth intensifies, and you clench your fists, trying to fight the pull.

Max’s fingers skim the edge of your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the way your body reacts. “You’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispers. “Better than you’ve ever felt before.”

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No-”

But Max doesn’t stop. His hand slips under the fabric of your dress, his touch deliberate and slow as he hikes it up over your thighs, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and something you don’t want to name thrumming through your veins.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his voice steady. “You’ll learn to trust me. To need me. It’s already happening.”

You try to close your legs, but his hands are firm, guiding you open, controlling the movement of your body as if you’re nothing more than a doll in his hands. A small, broken sound escapes your throat, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, making your pulse quicken.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You want to scream, to kick, to fight him off, but the weight of your own body holds you down. And worse — the warmth that follows his touch, the heat building in your core, it betrays you. You can’t stop the way your body reacts to him, no matter how much you want to.

Max shifts, his knee pressing against the bed as he leans over you, his hand sliding higher under your dress. His fingers graze the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, panic and unwanted anticipation coiling together inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t.”

But Max doesn’t listen. His hand slips beneath the fabric, his fingers brushing against you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You arch against him involuntarily, your body moving without your consent, and the heat inside you builds, the ache that had threatened to consume you earlier morphing into something entirely different.

“You’ll come to love this,” Max says, his tone calm, confident. “In time, you’ll crave it.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong, that you’ll never crave this, but your body doesn’t listen. It reacts to his touch, to the way his fingers move, coaxing a response out of you that you can’t control.

Max’s other hand moves to your hair, brushing it back gently as he leans down, his lips close to your ear. “Let go,” he whispers. “Stop fighting it. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as the heat builds inside you, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between the need to escape and the unbearable sensation that’s pushing you closer to a precipice you don’t want to fall over.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” Max murmurs, his fingers moving faster over your clit, his voice a steady, calming presence in the storm raging inside you. “As long as you’re good for me.”

Your body tenses, the wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation overwhelms you, drowning out every thought, every protest, until there’s nothing left but the blinding heat of release.

Max’s hand stills, his touch softening as the aftershocks ripple through you, and he watches, his expression unreadable as you come undone beneath him. You hate it. You hate every second of it. But the worst part is that your body craves it.

Max leans back, his hand trailing away from you, leaving your skin burning in its absence. He stands, adjusting his sleeves as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“You did well,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”

Your body is limp, your mind spinning as you try to process what’s just happened. The ache is gone, replaced by an empty exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs.

Max heads toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you. “Remember,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ll always feel better when I’m here.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. The room is silent again, but this time the silence isn’t cold. It’s suffocating, pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, and for the first time since you arrived in this place, you realize just how trapped you are.

And worst of all, you know that he’s right.

***

The door opens again.

This time, when you hear it, your body doesn’t flood with fear, or even confusion — it’s anticipation. The ache that had returned in his absence is quickly soothed as Max steps into the room, his presence undeniable, filling the space with a charged energy that you’ve come to crave.

His steps are measured, deliberate, as he crosses the room to you. There’s no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what you both agreed upon. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like the walls close in, but in a way that feels safe, protected — like nothing can touch you except him.

Max’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile as he comes to the side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. He says nothing at first, letting the moment linger between you, thick and heavy. You’re not sure if you should speak or wait for him to break the silence.

He doesn’t make you wait long.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet as he leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You were perfect.”

There’s a flutter of warmth in your chest at the praise, something that makes you feel both proud and vulnerable all at once. You blink up at him, your body still exhausted from what just happened, but there’s something comforting about the way he’s looking at you now. The way his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, tender and affectionate, as if to erase any remnants of the harshness from before.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” Max continues, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with an intimacy that feels far more personal than anything he’s done before. “But you did. You always do, don’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight, the words caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. You can’t quite shake the feeling of how intense everything was, how quickly it all escalated. But now, with him here, touching you like this, the pieces of the scene start to fall away, revealing what lies underneath.

Max watches you, waiting for your response, but he’s patient. He always is, especially after something like this. He knows you need time to come back down, to find your footing after the role you’ve both played.

“Was it … okay?” You manage to ask, your voice still soft and hesitant. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a need for reassurance, even though you know how he feels.

Max’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss you — soft, slow, and deliberate. His lips linger against yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. It’s a different kind of intensity now, one that speaks to the connection you both share. When he finally pulls back, there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“More than okay,” he whispers. “You were incredible.”

The tension that had been coiled inside you loosens at his words, and you feel yourself relax against the pillows. Max’s praise always has this effect on you, like it fills in the cracks and makes everything feel right again.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he studies your face. “Every second of it was perfect because it was with you.”

The weight of those words settles into your chest, grounding you in the reality of what you both share. It’s all an act — a scene you agreed upon. Max has always been careful, always made sure you were okay with everything. That’s how it works between you two. The intensity, the control, the power dynamic — it’s all part of the game, part of what you’ve both built together. But underneath it all is the love, the trust that binds you to him.

He presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, a gesture of affection rather than dominance. When he pulls away, there’s a lightness in his expression, a warmth that makes the remnants of the scene melt away completely.

“I have something for you,” he says, standing up and walking toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You watch as he exits the room, the anticipation building again, though this time it’s mixed with curiosity. Moments later, Max returns, pushing a small cart laden with trays of food. The smell hits you first — rich, savory, and mouthwatering. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

Max notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a satisfied smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as Max wheels the cart over to the side of the bed. He lifts the lids from the trays, revealing an array of delicacies — perfectly grilled meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts. It’s more than just a meal, it’s a feast.

“Let me,” Max says, reaching for a fork. He cuts a small piece of steak and holds it out to you, his eyes watching your every movement, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, letting him feed you. The flavors burst across your tongue, rich and savory, and you can’t help the small sound of appreciation that escapes your lips.

Max’s smile widens. “Good?”

You nod, swallowing before responding. “It’s amazing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and there’s that familiar warmth in his voice again, the praise sinking into your skin like sunlight. He cuts another piece of food, feeding it to you before leaning in to kiss you between bites.

Each kiss is soft, slow, and filled with an affection that feels worlds away from the intensity of earlier. You sink into the moment, into the comfort of his presence, letting yourself be taken care of.

“You were so perfect for me,” Max whispers between kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

You smile softly, feeling the tension of the day melt away as you let him feed you, let him take care of you. There’s something intimate about the act, something grounding. It’s not just about the food — it’s about the connection, the way he looks at you with such devotion in his eyes.

Max takes his time, savoring the moment as much as you are. He alternates between feeding you and stealing kisses, each one a little longer, a little deeper than the last. His hands are gentle as they move over your skin, brushing your hair back, cupping your face, his touch always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The way you trust me, the way you let go. It’s everything I could ever want.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, the warmth of his words settling deep inside you. It’s always like this after a scene — the tenderness, the closeness. Max knows how to bring you back, how to make you feel safe and loved after everything.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more. “We do this together. That’s what makes it so special.”

There’s a weight to his words, a promise that echoes in the quiet of the room. You nod, knowing it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him — not the scenes, not the intensity, not the way you let yourself go completely when you’re with him.

Max leans in again, kissing you deeply this time, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulls away, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not the same hunger from earlier. This one is softer, more intimate, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily, naturally, because they’re the truest thing you know.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your stomach flip. He reaches for one of the desserts on the tray — a small piece of chocolate cake — and holds it out to you. You take a bite, and before you can even swallow, Max is kissing you again, his lips tasting of chocolate and sweetness.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of kisses and laughter, the food slowly disappearing from the trays as Max continues to feed you, praising you with every bite and every kiss. The intensity of earlier is long gone, replaced by something deeper, something that feels like home.

And as you lie there in his arms, sated and content, you know that no matter what happens, no matter how intense the scenes get, you’ll always have this — this quiet, tender intimacy that belongs to just the two of you.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Wildflower

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> Finding yourself a little lost, through some conversations, laughter and a bunch of wildflowers, you find something more than just friendship in Tyler Owens.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, little angst (kinda) reader doesn't have the best relationship with her family -- they're a lot. Found family vibes with Reader and the Wranglers. Tyler is mentioned to be an EMT and a weatherman. Not Proof Read.

The media always painted him as a heartthrob. New Tornado-Chasing, Thrill Seeking Heartthrob Tyler Owens spotted in the same town as…And he took it as a compliment. He’d been getting similar headlines and comments since he started on the rodeo circuit. 

What he didn’t like was when he was painted as a heartbreaker, pitted against people who he’d only really held a conversation with. No dates, no kisses, not even a hug come to think of it. Maybe a handshake at most. 

And it wasn’t like he dated much. Well, not at all really. 

Between chasing Tornadoes throughout the year, but mostly in the summer and spending the rest of his time working around research, data production, his channel, the few guest lectures he did at his old University campus and even the odd appearance as a local weatherman when he visited his folks, he didn’t have time to date. 

He also didn’t have the heart to do so. 

Something had always stopped him from taking a date further than a month. And it wasn’t commitment issues, he wasn’t afraid of relationships. In fact, he’d love to have one. To have a place to call home permanently, to have someone to come home to and talk about his day with, and hear about her’s…

In recent years, that life seemed to become more like a distant friend than a family member. 

Until you showed up. 

He’d been working all week in the shed, only really surfacing to eat or use the bathroom. Dexter had told him he should get some more sun before he withered away like some cowboy-vampire. Well, those were actually Lily’s words, but Dexter had told him to get some sun. 

And he promised he would, once all their recent data was logged into his laptop. It would save him the two weeks he’d be spending at the rodeo helping with the set-up and the running of it. 

Coming up the road, your tires crunching as they rolled over the gravel path, the breeze whipped in and out of your truck windows, surrounding you with the kind of freedom you hadn’t felt in years. 

From the house at the very top of the lane, you saw two people sitting on the porch, three others stood in the garden and from the barn emerged one man who joined Cathy in watching your truck pull up the lane. 

“Oh, my god! Y/n!”

As you switched your engine off and hopped out of your truck, you were almost sent flying onto your back by Kate as she came barreling towards you. 

“Hey- uff.” You smiled as Kate wrapped her arms around you tightly. “Missed you, too.”

“What are you doing here?” Kate pulled away long enough for you to answer. 

“Needed some space from home, so when Cathy called and said she needed help, I almost jumped down her throat at the chance.”

Kate laughed, looked around and hugged you again. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

The next twenty minutes were filled with introductions, questions, answers, updates on life and even more questions. 

“How long are you gonna stay?”

You shrugged before looking over at Cathy. “For as long as your mom needs my help.”

Cathy shook her head as she poured a pitcher of sweet tea. “You can stay as long as you’d like.”

You chuckled and thanked her for the drink. “Thanks, but it looks like you’ve got your hands full here already.”

Kate smiled. “The more the merrier.”

You and Kate had grown up almost like sisters. With your mom and Kate’s mom being in the same classes at school, and their ever-growing friendship, you and Kate had spent most afternoons and sleepovers gossiping and talking about everything you possibly ever could. 

And when she lost those she loved almost eight years ago in an EF-5, you had been the one to stay with her. You also stayed with her in New York for six months as she got settled into her new job and new apartment. 

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?”

You looked over your shoulder to Kate who was sitting up on your bed as you unpacked your bags. You shook your head and smiled. “For the millionth time, I’ve got everything I need, Kate.”

Kate looked around. “Extra towels?”

“Your mom already brought everything down.”

Kate sighed, a little defeated. “Fine. But you know you can always ask me-”

You nodded. “I know.”

Kate smiled and watched you for a few moments as you folded your t-shirts back up before laying them in one of the drawers. “You okay?”

“Yea, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you only leave home like this when something’s happened.”

Your shoulders dropped a little. “It’s just family stuff, that’s all. A few too many arguments over Easter and a crowded house filled with divided opinions. I needed a break and your mom needed a couple extra hands. It’s a win-win.”

“Okay, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

You smiled and took hold of Kate’s hand. “I know. And you know I’m here when you want to finally tell me why you have a local weatherman hiding in your barn.”

Kate laughed. “Tyler?”

You nodded and got back to packing whilst listening to Kate tell you everything she could about how she came to meet Tyler Owens; cowboy vampire and weatherman. 

Over the course of a week, you came to know everyone a little better. During the days, you helped Cathy out, Kate joining every once in a while along with Dani and Dexter. During the early evenings, Kate would drag you into the barn where you could both sort out the feed bags and listen to Dexter tell his stories to the others. Boone usually gave you a small fright anytime you walked up into the rafters considering you’d just seen him sat next to Lily at one of the desks. 

Lily would show you some of the footage they’d gathered throughout the day when on a chase and you’d see the complete thrill in all of their faces. 

Even Kate’s. 

Both you and Cathy were happy to see it. 

“You should join us one of these days.” Lily said, casually. 

You shook your head just as Kate laughed. Tyler turned his head. “What?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just…”

Tyler raised an eyebrow and tried his best to suppress his laughter. “You're scared?”

“Not scared, per say-”

“I’d say. You barely opened your eyes when you joined me.”

You looked at Kate. “That’s because you were the one driving.”

“I thought you liked my driving.”

“Yeah, on a normal road. Not chasing an EF-3 on the hottest day of the year after a flat tire.” You turned back to the others. “As much as I’d love to, I think I still prefer to watch it from the comfort of a screen.”

Tyler held up his hands. “Well, the offer’ll stand. Don’t have to join us, you can always join Dexter and Dani in the van.”

“I’ll see.” 

Turning back to the pile of animal feed, you started filling the buckets. By the time you’d finished, you made your way into the main house where Cathy was dishing out plates with Tyler’s help in the kitchen as the others either got showered or started setting the table. 

“Hey, need some help?”

“No, I think we’ve got it covered,” Cathy told you. “But you can go and get Kate. I think she’s still in the barn.”

“I did try and drag her chair from her desk but I think she might be a witch. She started to hover, I’m pretty sure.” Boone called out from the living room. 

You nodded. “Noted. Back in a tick.”

Disappearing back outside, you rounded the house and headed towards the barn. “KATE! Are you alive?!”

“Back here!”

Pushing the barn door open, you walked inside and eventually found her tucked into the desk, ink stains across her fingers from handwriting her notes. 

“Your mom’s made food.”

“Yea, I’ll be there in a sec.”

You waited for a minute before sighing and walking behind her. You’d seen this many times before, and in over twenty years of friendship, you’d only found one method to work. Well, two; but the hose was attached to the house and didn’t reach into the barn. 

Grabbing the back of her chair, you waited for her to lift her pen off the page before you jerked it away. 

“Wha- Hey!”

“Come on. It’s dinner time.”

“But-”

You shook your head as you started to wheel her chair across the barn floor. She tried her best at spinning around, but you just kept making your way towards the barn door. 

“I promise you can finish later. Until then, we’re eating. Come on.”

Kate pouted and agreed. “Fine. But you’re wheeling me back.”

“Deal.”

Finally reaching the house, you and Kate made your way inside before joining everyone else at the table. Drawing straws, you and Tyler pulled the shortest. 

“Sorry, Kate.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I promised Lily she can push Boone back to the barn anyway.”

You smiled before picking up her plate and carrying it into the kitchen with the others. 

“You wash, I’ll dry?” 

You agreed. “Okay.”

And so you both began. With Cathy’s stereo on the window cill, a country music station playing like always, the music washed its way around the house and you and Tyler cleaned up. 

As you did so, you and Tyler found yourselves both dancing along to the music that floated around the room until everything was washed and all that was left was you and Tyler sharing laughter as you both tried your best to remember an old line dance. 

Then you were two-stepping around the kitchen, him spinning you out and around and back in until Boone and Kate walked back inside and in the spirit of things, joined in. Boone bowing to Kate as low as he could, he held out his hand. 

“Why, ma’ lady?”

“Why thank you, sir.”

Before you knew it, Dani and Lily had joined, and Cathy had pulled Dexter in for a small dance. 

The night drew in slowly, the moon’s beam gently settling across the land around the farm as the stars joined in. Everyone was sitting outside, either dancing by the fire or doing some kind of activity whether that was drawing or knitting. 

You were sitting in the corner of the porch, balancing on one of the beams when the phone rang out.

A few minutes later, Cathy came outside. “Honey, it’s your folks. They want to talk to you.”

You took a breath. “Okay.”

Hopping off the edge, you walked inside, unaware of the eyes trailing your movements. 

“Everything okay?” Tyler asked as Cathy joined him once more on the porch. But she just sighed. 

“I’ve known her mom since I was a kid. Y/n’s a strong kid, but sometimes she just needs a break. They can be…a lot.”

Tyler just nodded before his eyes looked through the kitchen window and he saw you, sat at the entrance between the kitchen and living room, the phone to your ear and your entire body language screaming for help. 

It was forty minutes before you were finally able to hang up the phone and when you finally emerged from the house, you walked out to find Boone mid handstand. 

“Hey, I’ll be back soon.” You told Cathy. 

“Everything okay?”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Everything’s fine. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Okay. Call us if you need anything.”

You nodded before making your way towards your truck, Kate rushing over. “Where are you going?”

“Just going to the store. Do you need me to pick anything up?” Kate shook her head. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I promise. Just going to the store.”

“Okay. Well, uhh, a couple pads?”

“Period or stationary?”

Kate shrugged. “Both.”

You smiled, hopping into your truck. “Okay. Text me if you need anything else.”

You were at least an hour away from any open store, so winding down your windows, you turned on the radio and let the solitude wash over you. 

Your family could be a lot. Even more so when they didn’t agree on anything. Despite finding a job in New York, you’d returned home because your grandparents were sick. Eventually, they passed and that left the small plot of land and the farm house to your parents. They’d been trying to make it into an Inn and so far were succeeding. 

Save for the new renovations being done to the left side of the house where they couldn’t decide which colours to pick, which led to an argument over the colours they’d picked for the other rooms, and then their choice of contractor to fix the old barn into an outhouse. Then it was one of your parents bitching to you about the other for so long, about the same thing. You could only take so much arguing, shouting, and aggressive debates. Then Easter had come and that brought in ten other family members, all of whom had elected to take sides. 

Which left you alone in the very middle of a dozen other adults who were acting like children. 

The call from Cathy couldn’t have come less than a blessing to you. 

You took your time going around the store, picking up a couple of different things including both kinds of pads before getting back into your truck and driving around for a while. 

Just as the clock on your dash passed one in the morning, you turned down your radio, letting the sound of crunching gravel filter through your windows. From the looks of it, everyone was asleep. 

Except for one. 

Turning your headlights off, you pulled the key out of the ignition and locked it up. With the brown paper bag in your arms, you slowly made your way up the steps of the porch where you found Tyler, still awake. 

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

You looked around you and then back at him. “Better than before.”

“Want to talk about it?”

You clicked your tongue. “I don’t think it’ll help.”

“You never know.”

You shrugged. “You don’t wanna know.”

Tyler sat up, leaning his forearms on his knees. “Try me.”

You looked down at the bag in your arms and sighed. “Let me put these inside.”

If he wanted to leave, if he didn’t want to hear about it, then you walking inside was his chance. It was his chance to think up an excuse about getting to bed before an early start, or that maybe it would be better to talk when people weren’t trying to sleep, or whatever other excuse he could come up with. 

Except, when you came back outside, you found him laying out a couple of blankets and turning the heater up a little. 

“Thought you might be cold.”

You couldn’t help but be in shock. “Thanks.”

“So…where do you want to start?”

You sat down. “Aren’t you the shrink? Shouldn’t you be telling me?”

Tyler cracked a smile. “Kate warned me you might be like this.”

“Did she now?”

Tyler nodded as he hummed. “She did.”

“Did you tell her you’d be moonlighting as my therapist tonight?”

He shook his head. “I just said I was gonna stay up. Didn’t say anymore than that.”

You hummed. “Usually don’t have to with Kate.”

“How long have you known Kate?”

“Is this the start of the session?” 

Tyler just gave you a look, hiding the smile he wanted to crack again. So you answered the question. 

“Since we were little. Cathy and my mom were friends. We spent most days together.”

After an hour of talking, Tyler had found out your parents had moved away from Supulpa when you were about to start college in order to be closer to your grandparents. He found out a little about your side of Kate’s story when she left for New York, about how you came back and everything that had happened since. 

“I do love them, it’s just that they can be a lot sometimes.” You answered honestly. “Loud, rowdy, argumentative. Someone always has to be more right than someone else. You’re also not allowed to have your own opinion, but you’re also not allowed to not have an opinion. Colour of a room, foundation of a building, choice of school, subjects, jobs, vacations. All of it. Someone always has to put in their two cents.”

“Kate mentioned something about Easter. What happened?”

You sighed. “I told them I had a new job, after one of my aunts mentioned that her neighbour hadn’t seen me in their offices for a while.”

“How long have you been at your new job?”

“Two years.” You admitted. 

“Two years?”

You nodded. “I know it was wrong, lying to them, but not telling them just…made everything a little more peaceful. And it’s not like it’s a different job. It’s the same work, just at a different company. I work from home two days of the week. I’ve acquired some time off; that’s why I’m here day to day. And it also means I’m moving away, back to my hometown.”

Tyler sat up. “You’re moving back here?”

You nodded slowly. “I’m still house hunting, and I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even Kate.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I always planned on coming back, I think.”

“You think?”

You shrugged again. “When we’re kids, it seems like this huge thing; to be able to get out of the small town. And, I did. I’ve worked in New York and,” you hummed. “I liked it for a while. I think I liked freedom more than anything. Able to take an interview without my entire family wanting to know every single detail known to man. But Oklahoma…it’s my home. Kate is the closest thing I have to family that doesn’t drive me insane. And…” You sighed. “I want my family to see this place. To know Cathy, and Kate, and my old stomping grounds. I don’t want them to have a city life – not that there’s something wrong with city life. It’s just rushed. I want them to not only see the peace, but actually know it, you know?”

Tyler nodded with a soft smile on his face. “I know.”

“The phone call before; it was my folks. They wanted to know when I’d be coming home. It took me thirty minutes before I could get a word in. And when I said I wouldn’t be, it was just more yelling.”

“Yelling?”

“You know, ‘I’m selfish for moving back’, ‘I’m selfish for wanting a life away from my grandparent’s old home’, I’m selfish for wanting a life away from my family.”

Tyler shook his head. “You’re not selfish, Y/n. You’re allowed a choice in life. And that choice should be down to you, and you alone. Not to anyone else. I know they’re your family, but screw ‘em. You’ve done a lot for them, and they’re all fully grown adults. Have them figure it out on their own for once. And, if you want, once you’ve told Kate, we can go house hunting with you.”

A small smile broke across your lips. “Thanks, Tyler.”

He nodded and smiled. “You’re not selfish for wanting a life of your own, Y/n. We only get so much time on this earth, and it should be down to you how and where you want to spend it.”

You smiled again, feeling Tyler take your hand in his. You had no words, so you just squeezed his hand in a thank you. 

“Come on, it’s getting late. We should go to bed before Cathy comes and beats us with a dish towel again.”

As you stood, you looked at him. “Again?”

As he quietly walked you to your room, he explained how Cathy had chased all of them at least once with a dish towel because they either stayed up too late or because they’d walked into the kitchen too early on their birthday. 

“Tyler?”

He turned back down the hall. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for waiting up. And thank you for talking with me.”

With rosy cheeks, Tyler smiled and tipped his head. “Anytime, Sweetheart.”

You felt your own cheeks warm at his reply before you opened up your door and walked inside, the hallway light turning off as you clicked your door shut. Eventually, you heard Tyler’s door click shut, too. 

In a home like Cathy’s, you could hear every door open and shut, no matter how well oiled the handles were. 

In the morning, you woke early and found Cathy awake and sat at her dining table with a smirk behind her mug. 

“I heard you had a late night last night.”

“Jesus.” You held onto your chest. 

She just smirked. “No use praying to him, I want to know what happened.”

You poured yourself a coffee. “Nothing happened. We just talked.”

“And talked, and talked.”

You turned around. “You heard us?”

Cathy shook her head. “No, but I did hear your doors shut about the same time last night and Kate told me he was waiting up for you. So, anything you want to tell me?”

You let out a short sigh. No time like the present. 

“If you must know, I was telling him about my job.”

“And?”

“And how I’m moving back to Sapulpa.”

Cathy sat up. “Really?”

You nodded. “I haven’t told Kate yet.”

But it wasn’t long before you finally did. And two weeks later, Kate came running down the field with her phone where she met both you and Tyler. 

You’d been putting a new fence up around the ground, but you could only pull so many wires on your own without nearly knocking yourself out. So, Cathy had sent Tyler down. 

You’d been working for two hours or more when Kate came running down the field. 

“I think I’ve found one!”

“Found one what?”

Kate was smiling. “A house. It’s in budget, an hour out of your office building but town is only twenty minutes out. Nice view, open space. What do you think?”

You looked Kate over. She was still hiding something from you. 

“You’ve already called them haven’t you?”

She shifted on her feet. “Maybe.”

“Kate.”

She admitted defeat, though she seemed pretty happy about it. “Okay, I’ve got you a viewing tomorrow. But, please. Please go. We can go with you.”

You took a look at Kate before looking at the pictures on her phone. It did look cute. Wrap around and covered porch, big windows, shutters, bigger kitchen, spacious. It needed a lick of paint; or maybe two. 

You looked over your shoulder at Tyler who was looking at Kate’s phone, too. 

“What’d you think?”

“Can’t hurt to look.”

As the clock struck eleven the next morning, yourself, Tyler and Kate all arrived outside the house. The realtor met you outside and started giving you the facts; why it was being sold, who by, the history of the place. Tyler asked questions you’d probably think of at 3 am when you couldn’t sleep. Kate rushed around, looking in different rooms, taking pictures. 

There were four bedrooms, one office, two bathrooms – one up, one down. The master bedroom had an ensuite. 

“Now, it does need a little work. A couple of the shutters are loose around the back and one of the bathroom taps can be a little dodgy.” The realtor told you. “But all in all, it’s practically a steal.”

That much was true. 

And it wasn’t too far from Kate and Cathy. Maybe a thirty minute drive. Town was twenty minutes away, and most of that was on dirt roads. And from Kate’s constant announcements, signal was pretty decent in most rooms apart from the very back bedroom which you could use as a storage room anyway. 

The grass around the place was in desperate need of a cut, and the wildflowers that were tipping up around the place were begging for death in the hot sun. 

A tree had been planted a little ways from the house which would provide shade from the sun in the early afternoon. 

It also needed to be furnished, and have a couple of things replaced. But after a good clean up…you could see yourself living here. 

Standing on the back porch, you felt a familiar pair of boots stand beside you. 

“You look really happy here.” 

You looked up to Tyler with a relaxed smile. “I am. It’s…freedom. Two acres of land, a home.”

“All you’re missing are some chickens.”

You laughed, and so did Tyler before Kate came running outside. “Well, what do you think?”

You smiled. “I love it.”

“So you’re gonna go for it?”

Looking between the pair, and back up to the house, you nodded. “I think I am.”

Finally, after a month of going between helping Cathy, driving into the city and to deal with housing paperwork and taking walks around the new land that you owned, you moved into your new home. 

And everyone helped. 

Yourself and Kate got a head start on things, having slept over on the floor the night before in order to map out where everything would be going. And through tears of laughter, you both managed to get a sofa and bed frame brought through the doors before Tyler’s truck pulled up with the others. 

“Figured you could use some help.”

The next ten hours were spent laughing, fixing, setting up, painting and just all round having fun. An hour in and Dani had confiscated both Boone and Lily from using the drill to fix the shutters outside, Dexter had helped patch up some of the walls as well as paint over them. 

Kate kicked you out of the office space before dragging Dexter in with her. 

“You can’t come in. Tyler!”

He poked his head out from the master bedroom. “Yeah?”

“Make sure Y/n doesn’t come into this room until I say so.”

“Why?” You asked, whilst Tyler just agreed with a smile. He already knew what was going on. 

“I need your help here anyway.” Tyler told you as you walked away from outside your office. 

Tyler had been fixing your bed frame with Lily until he banned her from helping with that, too. Lily wasn’t the most patient when it came to making sure the bed frame was structurally sound. 

So you and Tyler got to work. 

“Okay, three, two, one. Go!”

Both yourself and Tyler stepped away from your bed at the same time. It had already fallen down twice. 

“Is it?”

Tyler hesitantly shook it and it moved as one, but didn’t collapse.

“No. We’re in the clear.”

You could have almost dropped to the floor. “Oh, thank god.”

“I probably should have asked this earlier but are you planning on painting this room?”

You looked around. “Not yet. I haven’t decided on a colour. But it doesn’t look too bad as it is for now.”

“So…mattress?”

“Mattress.”

From the back of your truck, yourself and Tyler managed to get it inside with minimal damage and once it was finally on the bed, you both flopped down. 

“Oh, thank god.”

“Do you think we can just fall asleep? Let the others do the rest?”

You turned your head and looked at him. “Considering Kate has kicked me out of my own office…maybe.”

“Guys!”

Both yourself and Tyler let out a small groan. 

“Nevermind.”

“Guys!” Boone came running down the hall. “Oh. Uh.”

You and Tyler sat up. “Everything okay?”

He smiled, if a little sheepishly. “Everything’s peachy, man. But, uh, Kate asked me to make sure Y/n stayed away from her office.”

Tyler smiled. “Already on it, Boone.”

“Great.” He gave a thumbs up. “Well, Cathy has asked for your help. Actually, both of your help, so…” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder before leaving the room. 

You and Tyler followed. 

By the time the sun was setting, you were mostly moved in. Dani fixed the dodgy tap, and some of the electrics with Lily’s help. Boone had replaced some of the wooden slats and repainted them to match before fixing the shutters back onto the windows upstairs. 

Everyone was thanked in drinks and pizza and you were finally allowed inside your office.

“Eyes closed.”

“Kate, you’re covering them.”

“Just keep ‘em closed anyway.”

She counted down before removing her hands and letting you open your eyes. What you were met with was a wall mural of Cathy’s farm land, barn, farmhouse and people included. You could have cried. You were crying. 

“Oh, my god.”

“It needs a few touch ups but it mostly finished, but if you hate it-”

You shook your head that quickly you might have given yourself whiplash. “No, no, no. No, Dex, I love it. I really, really, love it. Thank you.”

“It was Kate’s idea.”

“Thank you both. I love it.”

As the night drew in, the others slowly headed back home leaving you on your own. Kate and Tyler had asked if you wanted them to stay, but you said no. You had to get used to living alone, and you had cameras. 

So, waiting for you to lock the place up – both Kate and Tyler checking it after – they headed back home. However, one was quick to return in the morning. 

Tyler knocked on the door but there was no answer. He knew you’d be awake since it was nearly ten in the morning. From working with Cathy, you were up each morning around five; six at the latest. 

So he called out and felt a wave of relief wash over him when you answered. 

“Round the back!”

Walking around, Tyler found you almost drowning in grass and wildflowers. Your legs were dusted with soil, your fingernails and hands were practically drowning in it. 

“Want some help?”

“I’ve got an extra set of shears in my bag.” Tyler found it on the porch step before he joined you in the soil. 

“I didn’t want to kill them all off, so I’m trying to keep the wildflowers that will survive a few days.”

“How was your first night?”

You smiled. “Fun. A little quieter than usual, but fun. I’ve, uh, managed to fix the old coffee machine and plug in my house phone.”

“Does anyone even use them anymore?”

You shook your head. “Probably not, but I like the idea of still owning one. Also means I can keep up the tradition of being offended if someone calls me after nine o’clock.”

Tyler laughed. “Well there’s always that. Thought about chickens yet?”

You laughed. “Not yet. I need to clear out some of this field first.”

Tyler looked around and shrugged. “I’ve got a free day, plus Dexter’s been telling me I need to get some more sun.”

“Hope you’re wearing protection.”

Tyler chuckled a little. “Dani threw a bottle of SPF at me this morning, so I think I’m covered.”

The conversation continued to flow until eventually it was cut off by a sharp cut across your finger. 

“Oh, hey, okay. Come with me.”

Tyler helped you to your feet before helping you through your back door and towards your kitchen sink where turned on the cold tap. 

“You got a first aid kit?”

“Uhh, yea. Yeah, in my bathroom. Under the sink.”

Tyler rushed off in search of the bathroom before rushing back a few minutes later with it in hand. 

“Does it hurt?”

You shrugged. “A little. Stings mostly.”

In what felt like a minute, Tyler had examined your wound, mumbled words to himself and then started to bandage up your finger.

“How do you know what to do? Do you moonlight as an EMT or something?”

“Yes.” 

Tyler reached over the counter and pulled some tape away from the spool with one hand. You could only watch on in shock. His intense focus, his ability to do it so quickly. 

“Wait, what? Really?”

He looked at you and found himself smiling a little at your shock. “Yeah. I got my certification back in college. I worked on a couple of the rodeo circuits during the summer after I left bull riding.”

“Bull riding?! You were a bull rider? Wait-” You stopped yourself for a moment. “No, nevermind. I already knew that. Also, it doesn't surprise me…anymore.”

Tyler chuckled. “Why?”

“Thrill seeking? Adrenaline racing sport?”

“Well,” Tyler was finishing up on your cut. “You don’t face your fears, you ride ‘em.”

You watched him for a moment and found yourself admiring him. But then you snapped yourself back into reality. You’d gotten used to that snap-back over the last couple of weeks whilst being around Tyler. 

It had started, to your knowledge, when you both spent a night in the barn just talking. He’d been filing the last of the collected data into his laptop and you couldn’t sleep, so you stayed up and just talked. 

Considering you’d come from your shower and your hair was still damp, it wasn’t long before you got cold and being the gentleman he is, Tyler shrugged off his overshirt and gave it to you. 

You leaned back and smiled. “God, you really do have the whole cowboy thing going for you. Rides bulls, wears the boots because he earned them, same with the hat and he even has his own cowboy wisdom.”

Tyler chuckled at that, but tried his slight embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

But you shook your head,“Don’t be embarrassed. That just makes you humble and extra sweet.” Then you gave him a genuine smile. “It’s a good look for you. It makes you, you. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.” You realised how that came out, and as much as you meant it, you didn’t want to send him running for the hills. “And neither would the others. You’re a good man, Tyler. Not too many would be brave enough to actually look at the blood pouring from my finger, nevermind know how to help.”

Tyler chuckled a little at that. He’d seen enough men faint outside an ambulance to know that much was true. 

However, in the few moments that followed the laughter, something seemed to capture both yourself and Tyler in a hold. With the soft sunlight making its way higher into the sky, seeping in through the kitchen window, Tyler felt something wash over him and it was both more exciting and terrifying than anything he did day-to-day for his work. 

“Is everything okay?”

He didn’t know why, and quite frankly, his future self would quite possibly punch him for asking, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. 

“Would you like to go on a date…with me?”

“What?”

“I-I’d usually have something better than this. Flowers, maybe a note or something and it wouldn’t be thrown on you like this but I-I just felt like asking, but if this is too weird feel free to say no. I-I know it’s a little weird but I-”

You stepped forward and he stopped talking the minute you placed a hand on his chest. “Tyler, slow down before you have a panic attack.”

What you said next could result in the same panic attack, so you had to be careful. Then an idea came to your head. 

“There’s flowers outside.”

It took him a moment or two, so you nudged your head towards your window. “You say you’d usually have flowers, there’s some perfectly good ones outside.”

“But they’re from your garden.” Tyler whispered, but you just shrugged. 

“You’ve helped pick some.”

With a small, understanding nod, Tyler slowly backed away and turned out of the door. When he returned he knocked on the backdoor and when you opened it, you were greeted with a slightly less soil stained Tyler, holding a bunch of wildflowers in his hand. 

“Hi,” he smiled. 

You smiled. “Hello.”

[alohajun]

hi wifey! i saw requests were open so i wanted to request a cute little mingyu drabble (you know me). just something soft and sweet and cute based on what you think i would like <3 all creative freedom goes to you <3

♡ LUCKY CHARM — KIM MINGYU

f1 racer!mingyu x race engineer!fem!reader | wc : 0.5k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, f1 au, coworkers to lovers, fluff | loki's lines : i thought this would be quite fitting since our chats recently have been gojo (iykyk) and f1. love you, ratharan <3

“no, no, wait. where’s y/n? she has to knock on my helmet!”

the entire garage groaned at mingyu’s words, urging him to get the car out of the pit in time before the first qualifying round was over.

it was a silly little thing, really. what once started off as a teasing knock on his helmet by you turned out to be what kim mingyu considered his good luck charm.

but when mingyu started to see just how much he achieved after those teasing knocks, he didn’t dare to get on the track without you knocking on his helmet first.

you were just his race engineer ever since he started racing for ferrari, but to him, you were so much more; you were his lucky charm.

“she’s probably on the way. just get in the damn car, gyu!” the mechanic exasperatedly uttered, looking over at the screens. “only seven more minutes left.”

the team pleaded for him to get into the car, not wanting to lose out on the points for his drivers’ championship and the constructors’ championship too.

but mingyu only shook his head.

“no, i can’t. not until y/n gets here.” he stated, looking like a petulant child as he stood near his car with his hands on his hips, all geared up as he waited for you.

“kim mingyu.” the team principal scolded, his voice stern. “you are cutting it close, and we don’t have time for your—”

his words were cut off with your arrival, speedily rushing towards, an abundance of apologies leaving your lips. “sorry, sorry! the paddock scanner was down. they wouldn’t let me in!” you stated, looking truly apologetic towards the team.

without even waiting for him to speak, you rushed towards mingyu, knocking on his helmet thrice before ushering him towards the car as you looked at the timer.

“five minutes left, mingyu.” you nodded encouragingly, trusting his skills enough to know that he’d get in a good lap. “get yourself into round two of qualifying, yeah?”

mingyu beamed underneath his helmet, jumping into the car and moving out of the pit lane once he got the okay, making his way onto the track. you watched from the pit wall, coaching him through the qualifying rounds to ensure he’d come on top.

and he did.

as mingyu came on pole, with no other car being able to beat his score, the entire garage burst into cheers, and you sighed in relief, headphones still on as you smiled while looking at mingyu’s onboard camera.

“pole position, gyu!” you congratulated him on his accomplishment over the radio, chuckling softly. “you did it! p1 tomorrow, baby!”

as soon as mingyu made it to the paddock after qualifying, he made a beeline towards the ferrari garage, rushing over to the pit wall where he knew you’d be.

before you could even get a word out, mingyu lifted you off your feet, twirling you around. his arms were wrapped around you tightly, not letting you go even after he set you down.

“kim mingyu.” your eyes widened at his actions, wondering what had possessed him to behave like so as the cameras flashed wildly, capturing the two of you. “what on earth are you—”

you didn’t get to complete your sentence, your words fizzling out as you saw the cheesy smile on mingyu’s face, looking at you as if you hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

“go on a date with me, lucky charm.”

taglist : @kflixnet @mirxzii @woooooooosh8 @i05wook (to be added, please send an ask or dm!)

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© 2024 ALOHAJUN | PLEASE REFRAIN FROM COPYING OR REPOSTING MY WORK WITHIN OR OUTSIDE THIS SITE

[blueraith]

It's wild to me just how badly Vi's arc is misunderstood in S2. The claims I've seen that it was bad because she didn't join up with Ekko to help liberate Zaun or didn't "have enough stuff to do."

Big 'ole S1 Vi analysis under the cut because some "hot" takes seem to forget that Vi's S1 arc even exists.

Like, sorry, but that was never the direction her character was going to go. This was spelled out for us in the very first episode of the show when Vander is giving her that lecture.

"When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish."

"Whatever happens, it's on you."

This is the first conversation in the show that carries an impactful character building statement. We are effectively being given the start of Vi's character arc verbatim.

She is not allowed to be selfish.

And as S1 Act 1 progresses, and Vi expresses a will to fight, to rebel, to revolt, she is constantly and consistently shut down and discouraged from that way of thinking by her father figure. She's fifteen years old or so, Vander is the only authority figure in her life that she respects. Why wouldn’t she internalize any of this as is, let alone after all the tragedy she's forced to endure at the end of this act?

Then we get to tragedy. Vander tells her two very specific things before and after the showdown with Silco.

"Take care of the family."

"Take care of Powder."

You know. Not, "hey, take over my mantle as Hound of the Underground."

Or "lead Zaun to freedom" or whatever the fuck.

He tells her to look after their family. The people closest to Vi.

And I don't know how many of you are older siblings. Or even older sisters. But I question if some of Vi's most heated critics are either neither of those things or lack any knowledge of sibling dynamics, period. When you are handed this tiny baby from a young age and are told "this is your baby sibling, you have to help take care of them, we won't always be here but they'll always have you" by your parents, that shit sticks with you forever. For better or worse.

If you're parentified on top of that through either circumstance or abuse, then that sentiment turns toxic. Vander, as well-meaning as he is in his talks with Vi, inadvertently presents a pretty black and white viewpoint. When paired with Vi's reaction to his (first) death and learning what Powder did, it becomes even worse.

Think about it. Most people seem to focus solely on Vi's anger issues when she strikes Powder for obvious reasons. But there's this selfishness that Vi temporarily succumbs to when she hits Powder as well. She's not thinking of Powder's emotional state or devastation as she realizes what she's done, Vi is mired in her own grief and anger.

She then walks away from Powder to take a moment to herself and presumably recollect her own composure, also a selfish move.

Now, when I call these actions selfish, I'm not assigning any negative connotations to them. Selfishness is not always a bad thing, putting yourself and your own needs first does not make someone a bad person by default. It can be healthy to take some time for self-care.

The "issue" is that Arcane is a tragedy. The narrative punishes Vi for lashing out and temporarily leaving Powder by having Marcus kidnap her and Silco adopt her sister. Not that Vi even knows that much when it happens. For all she knew, Silco murdered Powder.

So, then Vi spends something like seven years in Stillwater in constant limbo wondering if Powder is even alive. The sheer guilt she must have felt at "failing" to protect her baby sister would have likely been agonizing.

Seven.

Years.

Then she gets out. And all Vi cares about is finding her sister. She doesn't care about the Hexgem besides the fact that it's directly related to Jinx, and Caitlyn lied to her by ommission about it.

She's not trying to retake the Lanes in Vander's name. She only cares about bringing Silco's empire down because of what he did to her family. She wants her sister back first and foremost, she does not care to stick with the Firelights and even leaves Ekko and Cailtyn on the bridge initially to go after Jinx.

It's really her burgeoning feelings for Caitlyn that ever cracks this near obsessive compulsion to chase after her sister. Vi was going to choose Jinx until the point Caitlyn was injured and then the both of them were shot at by Jinx.

Even the moment she falls in love with Caitlyn is tied to her guilt about leaving Powder. The story she tells while they're on Caitlyn’s bed, her obvious grief and guilt over her sister. She's mired in this moment of pain until Caitlyn reaches out to comfort her. Like, Jinx and Caitlyn have always been intertwined in Vi's arc after she meets Caitlyn. There is no overarching thread to connect Vi to any of the political plot points in this story.

Vi's arc is character driven. Always has been. She's motivated by her warring desire to protect those she loves with EVERYTHING she has, and this by now guilty pleasure to finally develop something purely for herself.

It's why she pushes Caitlyn away during the infamous Oil and Water breakup. The class differences she's citing are an excuse, an easy thing she can point at to push Caitlyn away. What's really going on is that she failed to get the Council to decisively act against Silco. She's failed Jinx again in her own mind, he's still out there poisoning her mind, and now she needs to take care of him herself. Caitlyn proved to be a distraction from her goal, and so must be removed.

Even after teaming up with Jayce and then going her own way, Vi does not go after more shimmer factories. She's not rallying the Lanes to revolt with Hextech weaponry in (on) hand. She immediately goes to the Last Drop to challenge Sevika, someone she hates specifically because she'd betrayed Vander. She had every intention to confront Silco right after that.

Then we get the tea party, and Vi has to come to terms with the fact that the sister she loved is fundamentally changed in more ways than one. She's given an ultimatum to choose between her self-imposed duty as an older sister and Caitlyn. The only relationship Vi has ever formed purely for herself.

And she can't do it. It's an impossible choice. Jinx ends up triggered intensely, Caitlyn is struck by indecision and doesn't take the shot because of Vi's pleas, and Jinx goes on to fire that rocket.

Like this is just Season. One. Every single important character moment Vi has is tied to either Jinx, Caitlyn, or both. This is not a new thing S2 did with Vi's character. Her arc was always about how much she was giving to other characters without much thought to herself.

I just don't get how some people expected that to radically change in S2. It was never going to happen. I'll probably make an analysis on S2 Vi as well, but this is already getting very long. It's also a good way to remind some folks that each season of this show does not exist in a vacuum. I've read a lot of takes that seem to just... ignore S1. It's pretty bizarre.

[mossangelll]

i would absolutely adore it if you wrote something with yan!silco punishing his darling and soothing them after !!

teehee i had too much fun with this…sadistic silco for the win >:) tysm for requesting ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Yandere!Silco x Reader

tw: physical abuse, manipulative behaviour, kidnapping, mentions of throwing up

“Oh, Y/N. What happened to all our great progress, hm?”

Silco circles you like a hawk, cedar-spiced cigar held loosely in one hand, the plume smoke overwhelming his office. You feel dizzy, nauseous, petrified - yet all you want to do is collapse into his wiry arms and ask, no beg, for his forgiveness.

It had been what, two hours? Two gruelling hours since Silco had forced you to kneel in a bed of rice grains as punishment for trying to escape him.

The sensation of freedom when you managed to briefly pry yourself from his iron grip electrified your soul. You wandered the lanes for two hours, cautious definitely but teeming with newfound enthusiasm; the sounds of the city were louder, colours more vibrant and the rain seemed to wash away the pain you learned to carry along with you everywhere.

But here you are, trapped with Silco once more, kneeling in rice that cuts up your knees into something bloody and raw. Any longer and you’re afraid you might throw up on his expensive rug which wouldn’t end well for you.

Your body starts to waver and his mismatched eyes narrow in displeasure. He crouches down on his haunches next to where you threaten to topple over and takes a slow drag of his cigar, exhaling in your face and pressing the lit end onto your shoulder. You hiss sharply. You can hear fucking sizzling as the smell of burnt flesh mixes with his heedy smoke and you can’t stop yourself as you dry-heave from the overstimulation.

Salty tears run down your face, further adding to the mess of snot and saliva covering your face. You look up at the tall man, wondering how he can just watch as you suffer and not feel a thing. You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him - pull him out of whatever insane mindset he’s in that makes him think any of this is remotely normal.

Instead, you watch as Silco flicks open his pocket watch and lazily checks the time before sighing and pocketing it again. He whips out his handkerchief and roughly wipes at the mess on your face as if you’re a nuisance.

He stands back up to his full height and drags you up from where you’re kneeling to carry you to the couch, knowing you’re too weak to stand on your own. You hope and pray that he might leave to let you reflect on your actions but he stays put right next to you on the seat. Your stomach drops.

You tremble under his watchful gaze, his cold eye disturbing you. He turns his sight to your shaky legs and it’s almost as if his entire body deflates at the sight of you looking so pitiful and worn down.

His hands travel down your thighs and stop at your kneecaps where his eyes are trained. His fingers slowly inch towards the inflammed flesh and strokes ever so gently but even his light touch makes you wince and groan in agony at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine.

“I-I’m sorry, Silco! I’ll never hurt you like this again I swear! Please don’t!” You whimper pathetically, eyes downcast as you form a makeshift shield, wrapping your arms around your torso to protect yourself from his temper.

“Oh, sweet Y/N,” he murmurs, nose buried in your hair as he raises a hand to pet the back of your head, cradling you right at the junction where your head and neck meets, “I simply demonstrated the consequences of your stupid actions, if you didn’t step out of line then I wouldn’t have been forced to teach you better, you understand?” His molasses voice flusters you despite the taunting vitriol that lurks behind his words.

You nod shakily, throwing your arms around his neck and sob into his chest as he rocks you back and forth. He hums to you with masterfully faked sympathy, you’re both aware it is, but all you care to do in this fragile moment is chase his comforting body.

“There, there. You did so well for me, I trust you learnt your lesson?”

You stay quiet, sniffling and gripping onto the lapels of his maroon suit jacket for as long as hello allow it.

Eventually, Silco lays you back down among the pillows and flashes you a warm smile that isn’t appropriate considering the circumstances. He then ducks his head down to your legs and, before you can understand what he plans to do, his chapped lips are kissing at your bloody knees, tongue darting out to press little kitten licks at the grazes he made.

He goes on like this for what seems like an eternity, just lapping up your wounds in stilted silence until he’s satisfied they’re clean. He goes to rummage through his drawers and comes back with a roll of bandages he carefully wraps around both knees. Even though he’s just put them on, dark red stains are already seeping through the white cotton, a bleak reminder to never disobey Silco like this again because in the end, he will always win.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” His husky voice calls out to you but you already know this isn’t the kind of question you have the luxury of answering truthfully, so you choose to give him the answer he wants.

“Yes please, Silco.”

You feel his lips smile against your skin when he ducks back down to kiss your tender knees.

masterlist

[chvoswxtch]

desire

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that the defenders of freedom had been caught, what's next for you and frank?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol & grief, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.1k

a/n: the one you've all been waiting for. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

Considering the fact that your place was still an active crime scene and Homeland still needed to track down the rest of Steven’s dipshit goons to ensure there would be no more threats or attacks, Dinah wanted to take you to a safe house until the investigation was finished.

Frank, however, was not having any of that shit.

It was admittedly an ego boost watching Dinah and Frank lock into a heated staring contest while arguing about who got protective custody of you, and definitely amusing. But eventually, she gave into the stubborn brick wall that was Frank Castle, threw her hands up in total exasperation that was followed by a colorful string of adjectives thrown his way, and that was how you found yourself once again on the road with Frank. 

Initially when you noticed that Frank was driving in the direction outside of the city, perplexment weaved between your brows, but he quickly set your curiosity straight as soon as he noticed it blanketing your features. He didn’t even give you a chance to voice your inquisitions before explaining that he was taking you somewhere safe that no one else knew about.

That knowledge filled you with a bubbling sense of giddiness because getting to stay with Frank at his apartment was one thing, but getting to stay with him in a place that sounded private and secluded? Yeah, that was more than okay with you. 

The longer Frank drove, the more drastic the scenery changed, passing by in a blurry film reel on the other side of the passenger window. The clamorous and bustling streets of the concrete city faded away slowly and soon settled into quiet black asphalt that shrank to one lane on either side of the road. The millions of inhabitants of New York City seemed to melt away into the horizon in the rear view mirror of Frank’s truck, leaving the two of you the only souls for miles. The trees became more and more dense, creating opaque patches of foliage in golden ochre, rusty ginger, and spiced cranberry. In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat was the most at peace you had felt in almost seven months since the whole had nightmare began, and a lot of that peace had everything to do with the man in the driver’s seat absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the Bruce Springsteen CD currently playing.

After about two hours of driving and light conversation, Frank turned off the asphalt road onto an unmarked dirt path, and you turned your head to stare over at him in half-hearted suspicion while lifting a brow in silent questioning.

“You know, if you kept me alive this long just to murder me in the middle of the woods, that’s some serious dedication.”

Without missing a beat, Frank let out a dry chuckle.

“If I was gonna kill ya, I woulda started switchin’ your coffee out with decaf a long time ago.”

It was always a struggle not to laugh at Frank’s dry sense of humor. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of your amusement, but you found yourself giving in more and more lately. Letting out an overly dramatic sharp gasp while staring at him in exaggerated faux horror, you reached over and lightly smacked your palm against his firm bicep. 

“That is the most evil form of torture I have ever heard.”

Frank snickered deviantly, clearly pleased with himself, and the relaxed grin on his soft lips was stretched so wide that his lifted cheeks caused his eyes to crinkle in delight. For a moment, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. It never failed to render you speechless just how much lighter Frank looked when he smiled. Happiness looked so achingly beautiful on him. Every time you silently observed him, you always learned something new about Frank. He had deep set creases softly feathering around the edges of his eye sockets, proof that Frank had once been a man that smiled and laughed as easily as he breathed. You sincerely hoped that version of him that he seemed to keep buried so deeply was steadily rising back to the surface, and that these ephemeral glimpses you got would soon become permanent.

The gilded stream of midday light cast a velvet glow on Frank’s softened features, leaving you so completely entranced that you hadn’t even noticed the lack of motion when he parked his truck. 

“We’re here.”

The gruff alert of Frank’s voice induced you out of your bewitchment, and it was then that you suddenly noticed the quaint one story cabin nestled a few feet away in front of you.

It was composed of wood in a rich shade of burnt umber, and topped with a forest green downward v-shaped roof. There were a few worn steps leading up to an enclosed porch that appeared to snugly wrap around the cabin entirely, and two large square glass windows on either side of the front door that was painted the same shade of green as the roof. The curtains were drawn so you couldn’t see inside, but from the outside it looked incredibly cozy.

When you got out of the car, you noticed there wasn’t anything around at all but thick woods, and you silently wondered just how far back they went. There didn’t appear to be anyone or anything around for miles, and the only sounds you could hear were birds chirping and the worn wooden steps creaking under the weight of Frank’s heavy black boots. 

“Wow. Billy offers one hell of a retirement plan.” 

Following up the steps behind Frank’s large frame, a glimpse of black flashed in your peripheral vision, and you noticed there were security cameras installed on the left and right corners of the roof, along with what looked to be several motion detector lights along the top perimeter. Knowing Frank, there were probably far more around the entire cabin, and probably even hidden in the trees as well.

Frank paused for a moment at your comment, his dark brown eyes glossing over your presence at his right before taking in the sight of his own cabin like it was the first time he had ever seen it. 

“Nah, s’just somethin’ I never got ‘round to finishin’ ‘til a few months ago. Almost forgot ‘bout it. It was s’posed to be a surprise project for my-” 

The second Frank cut himself off, his body language changed entirely. His relaxed posture instantly stiffened, causing him to stand rigidly at his full height while his shoulders squared to their broadened width. The former calm expression he wore turned to stone right before your very eyes and he clenched his jaw in such a harsh line you could hear his teeth grind. Frank was intensely staring directly through the small six panel window that was in the top middle of the front door, like there was something on the other side that only he could see. 

Before you could react, he abruptly unlocked the front door and pushed it open with his left hand, clearing his throat and vaguely gesturing with his index finger before turning away to descend the stairs without giving you so much as a second glance.

“I’ll uh get the bags. Room at the end of the hall on the right is yours.”

The haunted look in Frank’s eyes reminded you of the night of the gala when he had told you that he had lost his wife. It was almost the exact same one. The thought briefly crossed your mind that he meant to say it had been a surprise project for her, but you quickly put it to rest. Frank clearly didn’t want to elaborate on the subject, and you knew better than to push. The best thing to do was give him his space and let him come to you if he wanted to. Still, it didn’t stop the journalist in you from running wild with questions, and also filling you with a slight sense of guilt that you were about to share a space with Frank that was meant to be something sacred and special between him and his wife.

»»———　　———««

The room at the end of the hall ended up being the master bedroom, to which you protested heavily against taking, but ultimately ended up being an argument you lost because Frank played dirty and distracted you with the delectable scent of homemade pasta sauce and a wine glass that was filled to the brim with bubbly pink.

While you sat at the kitchen island and sipped at your now half empty glass, you studied Frank with a narrowed gaze. A part of you was annoyed with him and yourself at how easily you fell into the trap he set. He knew you well enough to know Italian food was your weakness and that you were more compliant after being fed. But a bigger part of you was completely mesmerized by the way he gracefully navigated the open kitchen. 

There was a furrow of concentration nestled between his thick brows while he precisely measured specific spices to add to the saucepan that was layered with ruby sauce that he had garnished with freshly cut oregano and parsley. On the far back left burner was a boiling pot of penne pasta, and in front of that was a skillet of ground meat Frank had added diced onion and garlic to along with several other seasonings. He shifted between each pan with a quiet elegance that captivated you, and simultaneously irritated you, because there didn’t seem to be a damn thing the man couldn’t do.

“So you’ve been a secret chef this entire time and didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick retort, you cocked your head to the side slightly and focused on the way his back muscles strained against the fabric of the black henley he wore.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve had an easier time getting nuclear launch codes from the Russian government than ever getting a straight answer out of you.”

Frank snorted at that, throwing you a quick humored glance over his broad shoulder.

“Hey, I give you answers.”

“Oh yeah, after nearly five months of stonewalling me. I didn’t even know what you did before becoming a bodyguard until you told me, what, a week and a half ago?”

Frank lifted one of his thick brows while turning his body slightly towards you.

“You never read my personnel file?”

Glancing down at your wine glass, you clicked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and gave a subtle shake of your head.

“Homeland wouldn’t let me have it.”

“And you let that stop you?”

There was a hint of tease in Frank’s deep voice, and you lifted your gaze to squint at him in annoyance noticing the cheeky smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“I’m a journalist, Frank. Not a hacker.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit. That may be your job but it ain’t all you are. Besides, you’re a goddamn force to be reckoned with and a pain in the ass when you don’t get your way.”

A mischievous smirk slipped across your lips while you brought your glass up to your mouth, looking at Frank innocently over the rim.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to wander over your face, stopping at the way the rim of the glass settled against your bottom lip, and when he met your eyes again, they were subtly darkened with that look that sent a tingle down your spine.

He silently stared at you for only a second longer before giving a slight nod, and you caught the wry smile slipping over his lips as he turned back to face the stove.

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the source was of the heat you currently felt blooming in your cheeks: the wine you had consumed, the aroma of the fresh chili pepper Frank had just added to the sauce, or the way he had just looked at you.

Attempting to redirect your impure thoughts before the liquid courage could make you bold enough to voice them, you looked for something to distract yourself with. With your chin in your palm, you glanced down at the rouge tinted liquid and lazily swished it around in your wine glass. A thought quickly popped into your head that caused you to let out a soft snort.

“I didn’t take you as a rosé guy.”

Frank adjusted the heat on the sauce to a low simmer before turning to face you fully, wiping his large hands off on a sage green rag before tossing it over his right shoulder. He took a step over towards the island you were sitting at and wrapped his long fingers around his own wine glass, which looked ludicrously tiny in his hand, and took a long purposeful swig before licking his lips and arching one of his dark brows. 

“What? This is good shit.”

Reaching for the half empty bottle sitting on the island, you let out a soft laugh and went in for a refill. The relaxing effects of the wine had clearly already reached your brain, and before it could catch up with your mouth, you blurted out your next question like it couldn’t possibly ruin the mood.

“Was this your wife’s favorite?”

Frank didn’t clam up like you had expected given his behavior earlier. Instead, he glanced down at the glass in his hand for a moment before shaking his head with a tiny smile gracing the curve of his lips.

“Nah, friend of mine’s wife got me into this stuff.”

Frank took a moment to stare down into the glass, as if there was a fond memory appearing in the bubbles. Clearing his throat, he took another large swig of the wine and set the nearly empty glass down on the island.

“She uh…she liked white wine.”

For some reason, Frank’s casual admission sent a flush of velour warmth through you. Whatever barrier that had prevented Frank from speaking freely earlier seemed to be somewhat dismantled, and this was the first time he had ever spoken voluntarily about his wife that hadn’t left a heavy fog of grief lingering over either of you. A tender smile stretched across your lips as you lifted your glass up in a silent toast.

“My kinda woman. What was her favorite?”

Frank leaned over the island on his elbows, holding the delicate glass in both of his strong hands. The amber lighting in the kitchen made his eyes look like swirls of melted chocolate, and you resisted the urge to lean in closer when he finally looked at you with a faint smile tugging at the left edge of his mouth.

“Pinot Grigio.”

A huge grin stretched across your lips at his answer, and you shook your head faintly as you light heartedly pointed your right index finger towards Frank and lifted your glass to your lips.

“Oh I bet I could’ve easily converted her to a sauvignon blanc girl. There’s this brand from Chile that makes the best blanc, and she would’ve loved it.”

For a moment Frank simply observed you in silent fondness. When you set your glass down, his eyes flickered to his own, and he made a quiet noise of recognition in his throat before speaking quietly.

“She woulda liked you.”

That single sentiment held more weight and significant meaning to you than anything anyone else had ever said to you. A tight lump formed in your throat as those words echoed in your head, and you felt the overwhelming urge to make this intimate moment just as special for Frank, but with the alcohol in your system you couldn’t convey your feelings as eloquently.

“My mom would’ve annoyed you.”

Frank immediately started howling with laughter, turning his head to look at you with squinted eyes in incredulous amusement.

“What?”

“I mean she would have loved you, no doubt about that, but she probably would’ve annoyed you. And definitely hit on you. She was like me, only she had way less of a filter and absolutely zero shame. I think my being nosey and stubborn was genetic, but she took it to a whole other level. Did you know I used to be really quiet?”

Frank’s thick brows lifted in surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. The rosé was acting as a truth serum, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rambling.

“I was. I was very quiet, and extremely cautious, compliments of my careless mother. She wasn’t really careless, I mean she loved me, she was just a bit reckless, but not in a bad way. Like not a I-need-therapy-for-the-rest-of-my-life way but more of a she-had-me-at-sixteen-and-we-grew-up-together way. You know that I was such a bookworm that she practically begged me to be rebellious and hang out with someone other than her or the local librarian? And she’s the whole reason I wanted to go to Columbia, because she wanted to go to Columbia, but you can’t go to Columbia with a baby and no high school degree, and I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, and I probably should have shut up ten minutes ago, but anyway my mom would’ve liked you but definitely annoyed you more than me.”

Those newfound beloved crinkles were once again decorating Frank’s eyes as he chuckled heartily at your rambling. He downed the rest of his own wine before setting the empty glass down, flashing you a crooked grin as he loosely gestured in your direction with his chin.

“I’m sure I woulda liked Lorelai just as much as I do you.”

There was a skip in your heart’s rhythm, partly because he finally admitted that he liked you as a person, but more so when you realized that Frank remembered your mother’s name. It tugged at your heartstrings, because it was such a simple gesture, but also because it reminded you just how much you missed your mother. 

“I forget sometimes.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly when your soft voice settled in the space between the two of you, and his playful grin slowly vanished as he watched while you stared blankly down into your glass, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

“Forget what?”

“That she’s gone.”

There was a slight tremble to your voice as you looked up at Frank with a miniscule sad smile. The empathy in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you had to look away to keep your composure from crumbling. Turning your head to the left, you took a moment to observe the layout and minimalist decor in the kitchen while letting out a shaky exhale.

“Sometimes I go to call her…just…on my way home from work, you know? Just to talk to her, hear the latest small town gossip, tell her about the latest coffee shop I’ve found that she absolutely has to try when she comes to visit next. There’s even been times I’ve left her voicemails. I’ll be so wrapped up in something and wanna vent to her, and then I’ll start to wonder why she hasn’t called back yet, and then it’ll just…hit me.”

Frank stayed quiet while he listened sympathetically, and the entire cabin was silent apart from the quiet sizzling coming from the stovetop until you gently spoke up again.

“Do you forget too?”

Finally looking over at Frank again, you watched as he lighty dragged his palm down the lower half of his face. While he glanced down at the smooth mahogany countertop, he clasped his large hands together while still resting on his elbows.

“I don’t forget she’s gone, but I uh…I’ve started forgettin’ things. I can’t remember what her perfume smelled like…or what her favorite song was. I can hear it sometimes, ya’know? Every now and then I get these…bits and pieces. Sometimes I can hear her hummin’ it in the kitchen, but it ain’t long enough to remember what song it was, ya’know? Everythin’ started gettin’ fuzzy…and I remember more things I wanna forget than things I actually wanna remember.”

There was a stretch of silence where neither of you spoke. Eventually, Frank straightened up and turned his back to you to walk back over towards the stove. Even though you knew it might not be the right time to ask, there was a question that had been burning in the back of your mind since the night of the gala.

“Frank?”

He hummed quietly in response, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder as he gave you his full attention.

“What was her name?”

The softness of your question clearly caught him off guard, and you could see the hesitation lingering in Frank’s eyes. Worried that you had crossed the line and completely ruined the moment, you were about to hastily backtrack and tell him that he didn’t have to answer when Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose, touching his index and middle finger over his chest most likely where his wedding band sat beneath his shirt.

“Maria.”

A minuscule smile covered the edge of your mouth as you tilted your head slightly to the side and tried out her name on your tongue.

“Maria. Is this her recipe?”

Frank's eyes flickered over towards the pans and the pot of boiling pasta that were still on the stove. After a moment, he nodded his head and turned his attention back to you with a tender look in his eyes.

“Penne all'Arrabbiata con Manzo. Her grandmother was Sicilian, just like my parents were. She made this every time I came home from a tour.”

The significance and sentiment behind the recipe Frank was cooking made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your ribcage. Quickly topping off Frank’s empty glass with more wine, you carefully got down from the bar stool that you were sitting on and rounded the island to make your way over to Frank. As you offered him the half full glass of wine, Frank’s eyes flickered curiously between it and your own gaze while his large hand reached out to wrap his fingers around the glass. Smiling softly up at him, you lifted your own glass slightly in the air.

“Well then, to Maria.”

There was a sudden luminescence to Frank’s warm brown eyes, but you didn’t get a chance to study it long before he nodded slightly and his lips stretched faintly into a tiny smile as he delicately clinked his glass against yours and repeated your toast in a more delicate volume of his deep voice.

“To Maria.”

»»———　　———««

“You’re fired.”

Hearty laughter boomed from deep within Frank’s chest and echoed over the crackling firewood currently blazing. He adjusted his position on the couch a few inches away from you, his features highlighted due to the radiant flames cascading from the fireplace in a contorted expression of skepticism and entertainment.

“What? Why?”

“I have known you for seven months, Castle. Seven. Months. And I’m just now finding out you have the culinary skills of a five star chef. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. I’m calling Billy first thing in the morning.”

You couldn’t hardly get through your own sentence without bursting into a fit of laughter, and Frank was in no better shape as he threw his head back against the couch and clutched at his chest with his hand that wasn’t holding his third glass of wine. There were nearly three empty bottles between the two of you forgotten on the dining table, and this was the most loose you had ever seen Frank. Maybe you should get him tipsy more often.

“You can’t fire me.”

“And why not?”

“Cause I ain’t assigned to you no more, brat.”

While Frank teased you nonchalantly as he sipped at his glass and watched the flames dance across the firewood, his words instantly sobered you up. He was right. The Defenders of Freedom had been caught, Steven was facing trial, and there was no reason for Frank to stick around anymore. It was a revelation you had been trying to ignore for the past twenty-four hours. A wave of uncertainty crashed over you in that moment. What would happen between you and Frank? When would he get assigned to someone else? Would that take him far away from you? How long could you stay in this little bubble outside reality?

Glancing down at the wounds in your palm that had steadily begun to heal, you lightly traced your thumb over the raised irritated edges as a thought suddenly flashed across your mind.

“I never thanked you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, Frank caught it, and he turned his head to look at you intently with slightly confused brows.

“For what?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you shook your head faintly before looking back at Frank with subtle remorse.

“For everything you’ve done for me. For saving my life, more than once, and-”

Frank instantly brushed off your gratitude with a shake of his own head, reaching over to place his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“It’s my job-”

“No. Your job was to keep me safe, but you did so much more than that. You dealt with all of my shit, fixed every problem I created, and even when Homeland pulled you away, you still showed up for me. Frank, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You saved me from those guys at the bar, you saved me from Cavella and Walker, and…you’re still saving me, even now. I could’ve gone to a safe house with Dinah, but you brought me here, even though I’m not your problem anymore-”

Frank reached for your glass of wine and firmly set it on the coffee table, effectively catching your attention while he started almost directly into your soul with a serious expression.

“Hey, you have never been a problem. Ever. You got that?”

There were so many emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for seven months that you hadn’t been processing, and now they seemed to be rising to a level you could no longer ignore. The verity in Frank’s voice nearly had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you just wanted answers. Why did he care so much? Why was he still protecting you? Why were you here right now?

“Frank…you could’ve walked away. There were so many times you could’ve walked away. Why…why did you stay?”

A substantial weight felt like it had finally been lifted off your chest as you asked the one question that had been lingering in your bones for weeks now. Although that weight was replaced by a lead filled sense of dread while you waited with anxious anticipation for a response, knowing was better than not knowing. 

Frank’s deep brown eyes stared so fiercely into your own, that you felt vulnerably stripped bare despite the clothing covering your body. When he reached his left hand over to place on your jean clad thigh, he grasped it firmly and leaned in just close enough so that you couldn’t escape the enrapture of his gaze.

“I want you to listen to me, right now. I’m always gonna keep you safe, you got that? Job or no job.”

The intensity burning in his eyes and the dropped octave of his rough voice nearly stunned you silent. Your lips parted slightly as if to speak, but your fogged brain struggled to form a coherent sentence. This was the closest you had been to Frank since you had climbed onto his lap in his truck, and you were fighting so hard to not let history repeat itself. But that look…that one goddamn look you could never decipher was roaring fervently in his gaze again, and you were going absolutely mad not knowing what it meant.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself leaning in closer, staring deeply into Frank’s warm brown eyes with a pleading look reflected in your own desperate stare. You wanted to know why. You needed to know why. And you were begging Frank for a confession that wasn’t encrypted.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine to protect.”

The possessiveness that dripped from Frank’s low voice had you abruptly clenching your thighs together, trapping his thick fingers between your weakened knees. If he minded the entrapment at all, he didn’t show it. The blaze of the fireplace was no longer what had the temperature steadily rising within your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Frank’s vigorous and unwavering stare. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and even though you had a million questions clamoring through your brain, all you could manage to get out in a hoarse whisper was one you needed confirmation on.

“I am?”

Frank retracted his large hand from your thigh, raising it up slowly to carefully grab your face. A few of his long fingers curled around the back of your neck while his index and middle finger rested along the underside of your jaw, and his thumb pressed lightly against your chin. His heated gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before flickering back up to meet your eyes, and that fire in them was burning bright enough for God herself to see.

“You’re goddamn right.”

Without another word, Frank pulled you in for a searing kiss, pressing his soft lips against yours tentatively but with enough passion to make his answer crystal clear. A delicate noise of surprise sounded in the back of your throat, and for a moment you nearly stopped breathing. If that first kiss in Frank’s truck was a rare comet bursting across the sky, this one felt like a supernova erupting in a kaleidoscope of colors and stardust exploding across the expanse of the universe.

Even as he retracted his lips just a bit to stare deeply into your eyes to gauge your reaction, his hand gently cradling your face kept you firmly in place. All you could do was stare at Frank in complete stupefaction. Your lips were fervently tingling and your body felt like it had been struck by lightning. Frank’s eyes were searching yours for an answer he seemed to desperately need judging by the way his other hand lightly squeezed at your waist.

“If I’m crossin’ a line, you gotta tell me now. Cause I can’t go back, sweetheart.”

The tender emotion entwined within his words nearly made it sound like Frank was begging for your answer, and suddenly it all clicked. You could never figure it out before, but now as you stared at him in complete wonder and paid close attention to his display of vulnerability, you were finally able to decode that cryptic look in Frank’s eyes.

Desire.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

That breathless confession was all Frank needed, and he seemed to groan in relief when you surged forward to capture his lips with renewed vigor. Frank was so much more engaged in this kiss, and you took that as a good sign to give in to every single temptation. Before you could even think about climbing onto his lap, Frank was three steps ahead of you, and his large hands were firmly gripping onto your hips and effortlessly pulling you over to straddle his hips. Frank’s hands were everywhere; kneading at your denim covered thighs, gripping tightly onto your waist, carding his fingers through your hair and grasping at the back of your head to keep you as close as physically possible.

You cupped his face firmly in your hands and seductively swiped your tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance, causing a low growl to resonate from deep within Frank’s chest, and his large hands suddenly squeezed your ass tightly through your jeans while you moaned when his taste met your tongue. The taste of Frank was much sharper this time, and you felt far more intoxicated by him than the three bottles of wine the two of you had consumed together.

Even with your chest pressed firmly against his own, it felt like you couldn’t physically be close enough. You wanted to be entirely consumed by Frank, to completely melt into the warmth of his skin and breathe his essence into your lungs. The synchronization of your lips and tongues molding together was impeccable, and the world outside ceased to exist while the two of you began to unravel one another.

An overwhelming surge of impatience had you nearly shredding his black henley with your nails while you fervently shoved it up his toned chest, eagerly caressing the scarred canvas of his tan skin with your fingertips like you had been daydreaming about doing since that night in the motel. He didn’t hesitate to teasingly brush his thumbs along the sliver of exposed skin above your hips before pushing your shirt up your waist and over your head. While you tore it off quickly and carelessly discarded it behind you, Frank dove in to attach his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, dragging his warm and wet tongue along the column of it before gently biting down on the juncture above your collarbone.

A soft moan slipped past your lips and you instinctively rocked your hips against Frank’s lap, coaxing a deep grunt from his chest. He left a searing trail of kisses along your shoulder, the rough pads of his fingers softly tugging the straps of your bra down your arms before splaying both of his large hands against your lower back to pull you further against his own chest. Frank nuzzled his large nose along your neck and whispered huskily into your ear.

“This alright?”

“Yes.”

Unfiltered lust clouded your vision a deep shade of crimson, and you blindly clawed at Frank’s belt while he continued his blazing path of kisses along your jawline and down your neck towards your chest. All of a sudden, his large hands clasped around your wrists gently to halt your movements, and he pulled back a bit to stare deeply into your eyes while panting slightly.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t no rush.”

“Frank, please.”

The desperate plea that sounded from your lips seemed to ignite a brand new fire within Frank, and your consent shredded that last strand of hesitation that was holding him back. He placed his large hands against your ass and lifted you effortlessly in the air, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. Frank easily navigated around the coffee table and slowly knelt down on the fluffy cream colored rug in front of the fireplace, carefully laying you down onto your back. This time when you tugged the leather of his belt away from the buckle, he didn’t stop you, and instead his own deft fingers made lightning work in ridding you of your own jeans.

Slipping one of his hands underneath your back, he easily unhooked your bra with his thumb and index finger, and the second your bare chest was exposed to him, Frank firmly grasped one of your breasts in his calloused hand and took your peaked nipple into his mouth. Your lips parted widely feeling the jolt of pleasure that had you arching your back slightly when he swirled his warm tongue around the sensitive and stiff bud while gently sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast. 

The sensation elicited a series of breathless whimpers to leave your mouth, and Frank grunted lowly in response as you rolled your hips upwards in search of friction, feeling the heavy heat of his hardened cock against your lower stomach through the thin cotton of his briefs. It was a marvel you hadn’t flooded the cabin with how turned on you currently were, and this wasn’t even scratching the surface of what Frank was going to do to you. You gripped at his bulging biceps, his broad shoulders, dark tufts of his disheveled hair, anything you could get your hands on to keep him close to you. 

Frank began to slowly descend your body, placing his hands firmly on your sides while leaving warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach, even licking a teasing bold stripe above your belly button. The sight alone nearly made your eyes roll into the back of your head and caused you to whine softly, knowing exactly where his next destination was. But as much as you wanted to have Frank’s mouth on you, and God did you want it, you weren’t sure you could stand another second of not knowing what it felt like to have him inside you.

After he slipped your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, you gave his messy cropped curls a gentle tug to get his attention before he could spread your thighs and settle his broad shoulders between the apex of them. Frank glanced up to meet your gaze, his warm brown eyes nearly as black as the coffee he’d consumed this morning due to how wide his pupils were blown open. The hunger eclipsing them caused you to shudder, and you took a mental image of the sight of him nearly naked between your thighs staring at you like a ravenous wolf salivating at the sight of a vulnerable lamb.

“Please, Frank…I need you. I wanna feel you now…please.”

The two of you seemed to be stuck in the same conundrum, caught in tandem between wanting to savor the moment you had both waited so long for, and also wanting to give into the impulses of your magnetizing desire.

As much as you could see in his hungry expression that he wanted to take his time, to devour you slowly and worship every inch of you, the distress dripping from your breathless plea triggered his own raging need, and he silently obeyed while moving upwards again to hover over your body, capturing your lips in a deeply passionate kiss while you ardently pushed his briefs down his hips and off completely. Frank settled between your hips, displacing his heavy body weight by supporting himself on his forearms that were locked on either side of your head. You were completely caged in and at his mercy beneath him, but that was exactly where you wanted to be. 

Frank searched your gaze ardently once again for any sign of hesitation, his dark eyes roaming up and down your face before his tongue quickly darted out to wet his lips.

“We can call it here, ya’know? No hard feelin’s. I can-”

Reaching a hand up to gently hold the side of his face, you placed your thumb against his plump lips to cut off the velvet timbre of his whisper.

“Frank, I want this. I want you. But if you don’t-”

“I do. You got no idea how much I do. But…I want it to be right, yeah?”

A gentle smile covered your lips while gazing up at him in complete adoration.

“Doesn’t this feel right?”

Frank’s eyes flickered between your own and he subtly nodded his head, glancing down at your lips briefly before looking directly into your eyes again.

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, and the second he nudged the blunt head of his thick cock within your entrance, a sharp gasp flew past your lips and it felt like all the wind had been knocked right out of your lungs. He groaned quietly and nuzzled his large nose against the column of your neck, firmly grasping at your thigh and pulling your leg up and around his waist while he pushed in deeper slowly, one inch at a time.

While your nails instinctively dug fiercely into the muscle of his shoulders, no doubt leaving deep maroon crescent shaped indentations behind, Frank paused for a moment and snaked his hand down between your bodies, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb in lazy circles over your clit to help your body relax. You had been soaked through your panties from the moment your lips met, but Frank’s girth wasn’t one your walls had accommodated before, and he did his best to ease the sting of the burning stretch with stimulated pleasure.

“Frank…”

As soon as your hips connected completely and Frank was fully nestled within your tight heat, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw became completely unhinged as you let out a smooth legato moan. You felt Frank’s body tense above you while he buried his face into your neck, letting out a quiet hiss as he breathed out a shaky deep exhale.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God…Frank-”

“I know baby, I know. Gimme a second.”

You don’t know how long it was before Frank finally started moving his hips. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All you knew was that you had never felt so full and so complete in your entire life. 

Letting out a quiet shudder, Frank slowly retracted his hips just a bit before cresting against you once again like a gentle tide. He removed his face from your neck so he could stare down into your eyes to watch your face, and you gazed up at him with wide-eyed passion and marvel. You brought your other leg up to also wrap around his waist and wrapped your arms securely around his neck, trapping Frank against your body just as much as you were beneath his. 

Frank reached between your chests with his right hand and gripped his wedding band between his thumb and index finger, tossing it and the chain over his back so there was nothing separating the two of you, just his heated skin pressed firmly against yours. Bringing your hands upwards, your trembling fingers weaved through his hair, tugging somewhat roughly at the messy cropped dark strands on top of his head when he began to languidly increase his pace.

It was like you couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open while you stared up into Frank’s warm brown eyes that seemed to gleam from the amber glow of the fire, but nothing came out except echoes of the pleasure he handcrafted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, watching in awe as his plump lips parted from panting heavily, his eyes becoming hooded from streams of ecstasy racing through his bloodstream. He gazed down into your eyes in complete adoration, gently stroking his index and middle finger down your cheekbone delicately as you stared up at him with parted lips and pleading eyes. 

Frank brought his left hand up to gently brush your hair away from your forehead, cradling the back of your head while his right one came up once again to gently grab your face. Although this time, his index finger rested along your jawline while his thumb and other fingers laced around your throat carefully, which nearly sent you into a frenzy. He leaned in to teasingly slip his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with such ferocity as if he craved the very breath in your lungs.

Frank vacillated his hips repeatedly against your own in a steady rhythm, but with a meticulous precision that revealed new depths with your body even you weren’t aware of. Every sensual thrust wound that tense coil within you tighter and tighter, and it was only a matter of time before you erupted into gratified pieces of confetti. Reaching a shaky hand up to grip onto the back of his neck, your fingertips vibrated as they brushed over the close shaven hair on the back of his head, and you pulled him down forcefully for another deeply passionate kiss. 

Only when your lungs began to burn due to lack of oxygen did you finally break apart. He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, gazing so deeply into your eyes you swore he could see right into your soul. You stared back up into Frank’s eyes as yours became glossy due to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure you were experiencing. His coarse grunts and reverberating groans echoing in your ears had your toes curling, and as your mouth hung open in silent begging, you nodded swiftly with an expression that let Frank know you felt it too.

“Please…please…”

That familiar bubble of euphoria was starting to expand wider and wider within your lower belly and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before it burst. The way Frank fit perfectly within your body was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and you were stuck on the cusp of never wanting it to end, but also wanting to see just how far it could go. You had never been with someone that seemed to be so finely in tune with your body, or that genuinely cared about your satisfaction, but Frank was treating your pussy as if he had designed it specifically for himself. The realization of knowing you wouldn’t have to finish yourself off later like you had to with your exes was a welcomed relief, but not knowing what brink of indulgence Frank was about to catapult you over was exhilarating. 

“Frank…Frank…”

“S’alright, baby, I know. Let me have it, yeah? C’mon baby, let go for me.”

A soft whimper slipped past your lips. You were so close, and God you wanted so badly to jump head first into the free fall. But a tiny part of you felt frustrated because you wanted to witness Frank free fall too. You wanted to see him let go, hear his praises of your name, and be coherent enough to feel Frank lose himself.

But you would have to wait your turn, because Frank was sending you barreling towards the edge of an orgasm with every punctual and powerful snap of his hips, and you had no choice but to surrender to the heat of his body enveloping yours in a cocoon of pure warmth and safety. 

Frank grabbed both of your smaller hands and laced your fingers together, giving them a tight squeeze as a tangible reminder he was right there with you. He pinned them gently on the soft rug above your head, his pace becoming a bit sloppy as he began to lose his own composure. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see them pretty eyes, c’mon. Let me see ‘em.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open until you physically couldn’t, wanting to witness every second of Frank’s own impending climax contorting his features as he fought to control himself until you were ready to let go. 

“There ya go, attagirl. Let go for me, sweetheart. S’alright, let me have it, yeah?”

A symphony of his name played from your lips at a steady crescendo until it filled the entirety of the cabin, and all at once a flash of white exploded behind your eyes as you free fell through space and time, floating in a cloud composed of Frank’s honeyed praises of your name and delicate sweet nothings. You’d given yourself powerful orgasms before but you had never felt something so intense as the delectation Frank created. It felt like you were floating between the astral space between Heaven and Earth, and you weren’t sure you could find your way back to your physical body again.

There was a faint amber glow flickering across your closed lids, and as you slipped in and out of coherence, you felt soft lips delicately pressing against your forehead and the edge of rough fingers gently stroking along your cheekbone lovingly. You didn’t want to move, you weren’t even sure if you could, but there was one thing you did want.

“Frank?”

The voice that resonated in your ears was fuzzy and distant, and it didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. A strong pair of arms wrapped securely around you, pulling you in from your stranded orbit closer towards where you were meant to be, and Frank’s soothing gruff voice quietly dripped a sacred promise into your ear.

“M’here.”

The hypnotic lullaby of his heart’s rhythm tethered you back to the dreamlike reality of Frank holding you against his chest, and that was all you needed to slip away under the blanket of stars that were dancing behind your eyes.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[astrologydayz]

ASTROLOGY FUCKING NOTES7❄️🦋🫐

MOON OPPOSITE/QUINCUNX COMPASSION ASTEROID - 8990 = The ones that can have trouble with being compassionate, & then not being so compassionate. It can be quite conflicting 4them at times, cuz in some moments, they do obviously really feel with others - & then in other moments - they're like "ummm sir, that's their own fault, HELLOO??" Like they can typically be seen as a little mean/not able2 feel other people's pain sometimes. They're usually very straightforward here with what they feel, so some could def take offence. COMPASSION ASTEROID - 8990 CONJUNCT/TRINE ASC = These people are true heroes, when it comes to being humane/compassionate. They always feel with others. They would never not feel with others. They always think of others, & typically always puts others before themselves❤️ - 1st one 2ask if u need any help for sure. These people are the ones seeing a really sad, & horrible movie, where it also ends up being based on true events - and then they'll cry, & think about it for a very long time. They don't understand why anybody would treat anyone bad - "we only got each other??".

COMPASSION ASTEROID - 8990 CONJUNCT/TRINE MC = Seen/known by others as compassionate. Got a reputation of being someone who's very sympathetic, humane, "able 2 put themselves in other people's shoes". But don't be tricked tho, it can be a facade here - you won't know. They choose what u see - not saying they're aren't compassionate, but u get my point, hopefully. VENUS TRINE/SEXTILE/QUINTILE KARMA ASTEROID - 3811 = Accumulated/or accumulating good karma, when it comes to values, passions, self love, love&romance, beauty, aesthetic taste - look at signs&houses💋.

VENUS SQUARE/QUINCUNX KARMA ASTEROID - 3811 = Accumulated/or accumulating poor karma when it comes to self love, passions/hobbies, values, love&romance - partners, or beauty. Can also show up as "owing" something/or that they will "owe" something to a particular person they're in a relationship with/or will be in a relationship with - Or multiple partners - look at signs&houses - persona charts if needed❤️.

4those who are into men, & marriage - GROOM ASTEROID - 5129 CONJUNCT/TRINE/QUINTILE MONY ASTEROID - 7782 = can show getting bank after getting married/or show up as your husband/fs having money💰.

4those who are into women, & marriage - BRIEDE ASTEROID - 19029 CONJUNCT/TRINE/QUINTILE MONY ASTEROID - 7782 = same as above - can show getting bank after getting married/or show up as your wife/fs having money💰.

💰MONY ASTEROID - 7782 CONJUNCT/TRINE ASC = the grind never stops. It comes all natural 2 them 2 think in lanes where money can get achieved! - They chase, & secure that bag big time. They love the hustle - "a hustler was born the day they got here".

MONY ASTEROID - 7782 CONJUNCT/TRINE NORTH NODE = chasing, & getting that bag is part of one's life purpose/it's a life theme!💰

💰MONY ASTEROID - 7782 SQUARE/QUINCUNX NORTH NODE = money can be hard 2 really achieve in this lifetime, even tho they could chase it/want it really bad - it's bc of their last lifetime. OR chasing money is a big problem 4 them, bc they forget their true purpose here, & only fixate on getting that bag - "money hungry/focused" - "straying from their true path" - "they're blinded".

URANUS CONJUNCT/TRINE/QUINTILE ASC = Are the ones doing/going about life very differently, than others. They think in very different lanes, original, & untouched lanes - no one can copycat them4shit, cuz ain't nobody moving like they do. You'll never meet two of these people, that's for sure. They appreciate freedom, originality, &realness a lot more than most.

NORTH NODE CONJUNCT/TRINE MC = one whose life purpose/life theme is about establishing yourself in this world! Creating a public persona - chasing, & getting that fame/success, & prestige!

NORTH NODE CONJUNCT/TRINE IC = the one whose life purpose/life theme is family, finding their "people" - creating their own home in this world/establishing a family/roots!

ASC AT 1, 13, 25 = ARIES DEGREE are the ones always wanting to do something fr😭🤣😍, they love being out & about - they like moving around. They're usually very honest, direct, not afraid of standing up for themselves/others, & they can get quite spicy/fiery at times. They don't give out 2nd chances typically, so use the 1st one wisely! They can't stand people who tries to trick them, like they're "dumb"🙄 - they'll disappear quicker than Houdini💨.

PREY ASTEROID - 6157 CONJUNCT SOUTH NODE = used 2 being a prey throughout this life/used 2 being taken advantage of, bc of a past lifetime = they gotta learn how to stand up for themselves, cuz this energy, ain't energying! They gotta speak the fuck up, & let NOBODY take advantage!!!

MARS SQUARE/QUINCUNX ASC IN SYNASTRY = Asc person can feel overwhelmed sometimes, because of Mars aggressive/in your face energy. Mars could start fights, or want to argue a lot, but the Asc person ain't having none of that. Asc person can see Mars person as 2 dominant, or 2 impatient - 2much attitude. If this is a relationship/a sexual connection - the Asc person could find this sexually attractive about the Mars person after some time, but there will still be times where it will piss off the asc person very much💀.

MOON SQUARE/QUINCUNX MERCURY IN SYNASTRY = Moon person can feel like Mercury person is harsh with their words, & really insensitive at times. Mercury person can feel like the Moon person is 2 sensitive, or takes things 2 personal a lot of the times. Mercury person communicates/banters in a way, that doesn't sit right with the Moon person emotionally - they can get offended. Moon can act out/up bc they don't feel heard/they can feel like their feelings don't matter/like they're irrelevant 2 the Mercury person.

SATURN CONJUNCT/TRINE JUNO IN SYNASTRY = constant/longterm loyalty/commitment from Juno 2 Saturn person! SATURN SQUARE/QUINCUNX JUNO IN SYNASTRY = Juno person either doesn't want 2 commit 2 the Saturn person 100%, OR it can show up as the way the Juno person shows their commitment 2 the Saturn person/the relationship = it doesn't give the Saturn person the stability they seek, or need. SATURN OPPOSITE JUNO IN SYNASTRY = On and off loyalty/stability from Juno/or an on & off relationship between the two! - Juno is 9/10 times the one cutting it off).

PLUTO CONJUNCT JUNO IN SYNASTRY = LOVE THIS ONE! Deep seated loyalty/commitment from Juno person 2 Pluto person - “Pluto's ride or die"💋. Ain't nobody got Pluto like Juno. Pluto usually hasn't experienced this kind of crazy ass loyalty with anyone before, but they're Pluto = SO THEY FUCKING LOVE THAT SHIT. They're an inseparable duo, very possessive, & very committed - fixation at it's finest - especially in the beginning!

PLUTO SQUARE/QUINCUNX JUNO IN SYNASTRY = Pluto person tries 2 silently keep the Juno person under their control, while they typically keep secrets of their own. Juno person ain't here4it tho. They may be committed 4a little while, but not in the long run. Juno always ends up acting out in ways they've never acted out before = Pluto person starting/creating a change/transformation in Juno/in Juno person's life. PLUTO TRINE/QUINTILE JUNO IN SYNASTRY = Juno is an amazing supporter in Pluto person’s life!🫶🏼 Pluto knows that they can trust, & count on Juno person at all times! Pluto can be kinda possessive at times, but Juno isn’t put off by that! - they're rather intrigued by it, cuz they can be like that2sometimes!💁🏼‍♀️ A natural affinity for helping each other through tough/life changing times.

THANKS4READING BABE!💋

APPRECIATE U, ALWAYS!🫶🏼

[throneofsapphics]

against the contract, chapter two

poly!Feysandriel x f!Reader

summary: If they were genuinely bad people, it would be so much easier to kill them. Signing a special contract to work with Azriel, Feyre, and Rhysand turns out nowhere near expected. You were a bit of fun that became their solace and escape, they were supposed to be an easy assignment that turned into your living nightmare

warnings: d/s dynamics, non sexual submission

word count: 2330

a/n: if anyone wants on the taglist please let me know! thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter & happy kinktober y'all!

<<< prev. chapter | series masterlist | next chapter >>>

You twirled in front of the mirror for what you promised yourself was the last time. It wasn’t giving the vibe you needed it to. Groaning, you ripped your dress over your head, tossing it into the corner of your room. Too puffy. Too frilly. They were expecting the you they saw that night at Francine’s club, not some prissy and polished version. 

If it wouldn’t get you arrested, you might’ve just shown up naked. It’s a shame you had to drive there, and you’d surely get pulled over with your luck. Cops, you wanted to avoid at all costs. 

Rummaging through your closet, something hiding in the back caught your eye. The fabric, a midnight black according to the tag you just ripped off, still smelt new. You shook out the couple of wrinkles that had settled in, and slipped it on. 

Barely managing to zipper in by yourself, you spun slowly, not twirling, you told yourself, in front of your mirror. Glancing at the clock, you decided it would have to be enough. As it stood, you were already running late. Grabbing a small handbag, you shoved your essentials and the contract inside of it and walked very quickly out the door. 

They were about a forty-five minute drive out of the city, into an area you knew was teeming and crawling with “fuck you” wealth. You’d done private parties out there before, always making great tips. At least to you, the wealthy had been generous. Maybe luck would strike again. Rapping your fingers against the wheel, you hummed the catchy tune showing up on your shuffled playlist but couldn’t remember the artist or song name for the life of you.  

Just approaching the property, you could see how well taken care of it was based on the beautiful, giant holly trees. They both cast shade over the path, and blocked off any view of the neighbors to the left. If there were neighbors close by. You caught glimpses of gardens and beautiful native greenery through the trees on your right. The driveway was paved the entire way through, two lanes, and at least a mile long. The price they were offering started to make sense. It was probably nothing to them. 

Finally pulling up to the house in your rather economical car, a splurge to you a few years ago, you felt decidedly like an underdog. Not that this was some sort of superhero story, but your vehicle certainly was out of place amongst the several high-end black SUV's visible. All identical, all with blacked out windows. You frowned, blacked out windows were for criminals and politicians. Who exactly had Francine sent you to meet? You reminded yourself of the freedoms the payout of this job could afford you, and of your promise to yourself that if looking at them made you want to throw up, you'd leave.

The driveway finished in a circle, an elegant manor greeting you. Vines grew directly in the white stone, snaking up the columns supporting the second story balconies. With a squint, you could see a chandelier through one of the bay windows on the front of the house. The french doors, obviously the front entrance, were filled with panes of beautiful stained glass, looking as if they’d been stolen from a church. It looked like one of the ones you and your mother used to drive by for fun, to gaze at and wonder about their lives. A pang of nostalgia and grief hit you, quickly overshadowed as you remembered you had a job to do. 

Stepping out onto the smooth stones, you brushed your dress down and gently closed your car door behind you, clicking the key to lock it. The front doors opened before you began to ascend the stairs, a dark skinned woman greeting you with a small, albeit a bit distant, smile. It took conscious effort to keep your jaw slammed shut as she guided you inside the massive manor house. Still, you knew the whites of your eyes were showing. 

”Maybe you should be on your knees,” she murmured quietly as shoes clicked against the tile flooring in the distance. 

“Excuse me?” You matched her tone. 

She gave you a look that simultaneously said, ‘you heard me’ and ‘your funeral,’ and left you standing there. Alone. You understood you were to stay put, but gods you wanted to follow. Steeling yourself with a few breaths, you clasped your hands in front of you and waited. 

-

“I informed her, I imagine she’ll be standing,” Nuala murmured in his ear as they crossed paths. 

Rhys nodded. You hadn’t been informed of any rules of the like, so he hadn’t expected you to do it, but he wanted to throw something out there. For fun. Feyre was glaring at him, but he was sure she’d like the results. 

“Ready?” He asked Feyre and Azriel quietly. The former hummed angrily, the latter giving a short nod. Az was always the most nervous about adding anyone new to the household, regardless of how thorough his background checks were. It took ages for him to truly trust anyone and Rhys respected him for it. Feyre, on the other hand, tended to give away her trust too quickly, and paid for it later on. 

They rounded the corner and you stood there, hands clasped in front of you, a fire in your eyes as if you’d come to some decision during the span of the last minute you’d been left alone. 

”I wasn't informed there would be a test run.” There was a bite in your tone that thrilled and worried him at the same time. As fun as they were, they weren’t looking for a brat right now. 

”Is now inconvenient?” Stars danced in his eyes as he posed the challenge. 

”No.”

”Then on your knees.”

Like a puppet with its strings cut, you dropped, elegantly slowing yourself so the impact wouldn't be too harsh. Your hands found their way behind you, fingers interlaced, head bowed, the same portrait of submission he'd seen that night. His worries eased. Feyre let out a slow breath next to him, Azriel was stoic as always - almost always. 

Rhys took a step closer, Azriel followed and circled behind you, Feyre standing off to his right. Surrounded. He liked the idea of the three of them overwhelming you, some day. 

-

”Perfect,” you could've sworn you heard him say, but … that didn't seem likely. The three of them were like Gods and a Goddess. You were no comparison.

It went against all training but you peeked up through your lashes to look at him, to find him staring right back as if he was waiting for this. Fuck. You quickly averted your gaze and he chuckled.

Time passed, they retreated but you knew they were still in the room, watching.

Thoughts began to empty from your head, not quite throwing you into subspace but somewhere … floatier.

Somewhere free of your current worries and obligations, a reminder, despite the results of this 'test,' of why you loved this, of why you were a submissive.

”You pass,” the words came, then a hand. You didn't hesitate before taking it. 

Another hand, warm and firm, gripped your shoulder and held you upright while you got your legs back beneath you. You grimaced as pins and needles ran up and down your shins. 

”Let's get you some water,” a voice, low and cool like shadows, said, the speaker's mouth just inches away from your ear. His hand tucked itself appropriately into the crook of your elbow, guiding you back towards where they’d arrived from. You noticed a few golden rings on his fingers, blue gems set deep into them. They were gorgeous, and probably worth more than you were. Scars peppered his skin, but you knew better than to ask about another person's wounds. No matter how healed they were, a wrong question could open it right back up. 

“Okay,” you breathed, still trying to get your entire mind back in this world. Their presence, the sheer power they radiated, was intoxicating. You were almost ashamed you’d ever thought they might be ugly, and reminded yourself to thank Francine. The bat might faint when you do. You’d been blessed with the sight of the three most gorgeous people you’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. Maybe you were still a bit addled but they felt like a gift to your fucking eyes, and you were very glad mind reading was impossible - existing only in some of the fairy porn books you read - otherwise you would have three gorgeous people laughing at you, and that wouldn’t do. 

The man, who introduced himself as Azriel, led you silently into a rather formal dining room. He guided you into a seat at a black walnut table, pushing your chair in after you. There was an assortment of pastries and small fancy sandwiches waiting for you. 

Small talk was easy with them, comfortable even. As if they were pros at lulling people into states of security, false or real. 

“So,” Rhys leans back, tilting his chair on its back two legs. “How much of the contract did you show that nosy boss of yours?” 

“None,” you said and made sure to look him directly in the eyes, unsure if you felt offended by the implication you would share the information, or offended on Francine’s behalf. In all honesty it was probably the first. “It’s my business,” you added as clarification, uncertain if you really needed it but it felt right. 

He hummed and nodded, tapping the fingers of his left hand against the table, a silver ring glinting, catching the light from the chandelier. Your eyes tracked to the chair next to him, aware of Azriel on your left watching your every move, and you found Feyre watching you as well. 

She was elegant in a way you’d never seen before, exuding grace with each movement but ... you could see the callouses on her palms, the subtle but telling way her shoulders hunched forward slightly over her plate, like she was uncertain if someone might take her next meal from her. You knew because you’d trained the habit out of yourself. 

Sending a soft smile her way, you waited for their next question, not so patiently on the inside but you were well aware you appeared perfectly content on the outside. 

“I’m assuming you have questions about the contract,” Rhys finally said. 

“I do,” you tapped a finger against the table, frowning. “I have them written down, but it’s in my bag.” 

Azriel was out of his chair before you’d completely finished the sentence, and on his way to the door. You pivoted in your seat, watching him ... very inappropriately for a moment before you caught yourself. Somehow, barely, you managed to keep the flush from your cheeks at the others knowing smirks. 

Azriel was back within a minute with your bag, and you slipped the contract out of it, wondering if someone rifled through the contents while you were separated from it - not that they’d find anything interesting. 

“Right,” you flipped towards the section you’d highlighted a few days ago. 

The Submissive will conduct themself in a respectful manner at all times, unless otherwise requested

“What does ‘unless otherwise requested’ mean?” You asked and turned the paper around, sliding it across the table to Rhys, knowing Azriel had been looking over your shoulder. Plus, it was quite obvious who was in charge. He’d ordered you to your knees, after all. 

“There may be times we ask you to ... play a part,” he clarified, mouth curving up at one corner. Feyre’s lips pursed together, as if she was holding herself back from speaking. Maybe that section was her idea. 

“Does that work for you?” Azriel asked. 

You nodded, before catching yourself, turning to face him and replying, “yes.” 

An approving nod was your response. Even that tiny hint of approval from one of them sent a warm feeling through your chest. Gods, you could feel yourself becoming conditioned to them already, and you hadn’t even put ink on the paper. 

“Any other questions?” Feyre asked. 

You nodded, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and flipping through the papers again. 

“I like it,” you heard Rhys, but focused on finding your section 

L.1 The Submissive will live with the Dominants for the duration of the contract.

“I would live here?” 

-

“We’d expect this to be a full time commitment, meaning you wouldn’t take on other obligations for the months you’d be with us,” his wife explained after he prodded her. Feyre was acting shyer than usual and it was endearing, as well as a tad worrying. He wanted her to feel comfortable around you, and safe, and if she couldn’t ... well he’d pay out the contract and let you go. As pretty as you were, Rhys would put his wife first. 

“That makes sense,” you said slowly, nodding as you thought it over. 

“Any other questions?” You asked a few more. It pleased him that you were taking this seriously, rather than just a money grab. Majority of the people they found saw the sum and were quick to say yes to everything else. He needed to be able to trust someone to actually speak up. 

“That’s everything I have,” you finally said. 

“Then let's sign,” Rhys pulled a pen from his pocket, and Azriel produced two fresh copies of the contract. You had no idea the danger you were throwing yourself into. He wouldn’t ruin you, but you certainly wouldn’t be the same after this. Rhys had a feeling none of them would be.

Later that night, Rhys lounged in an elegant high backed chair, not unlike a throne, with Feyre perched on one leg while Azriel knelt at his feet, and let the whiskey wet his lips and tongue before dripping down his throat. He imagined someone else kneeling next to Azriel. You. 

-

series taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy @yeonalie @daycourtofficial @emidpsandia @thelov3lybookworm @justasillylittlegoofyguy @aactuaaltraash @hannzoaks @angelbunny222 @littlest-w01f @pandabiiissh @rosecobollway @glittervame @tele86 @randomgurl2326 @bookwormysblog @sidthedollface2 @scarsandallaz @therealmoonstone @hannzoaks @grapeflavoredwater @fhgsvbnh

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @i-am-a-lost-girl16

[dixons-sunshine]

Accidents Happen | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. Daryl was only picking you up from work. He didn’t want the night to end with the both of you in the hospital with no clue if you’d be okay.

Genre: Hurt/comfort.

Era: Pre Apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, allusions to drunk driving, car accident.

Word count: 2.4k.

A/N: A few facts surrounding the rescue is probably not accurate. I didn’t have any internet while writing this so I winged it. Just a quick warning before you read! There are more than likely inaccuracies in this!

“Hey, Dar,” you greeted your husband with a smile, hopping into the old truck Daryl had taken to work for the day. You settled back into the worn leather, letting out a big sigh of relief. You were relieved that the day was over. Being at work at past seven pm should be illegal, you thought to yourself.

Daryl gave you a small smile. “Hey, Peach.” He started up the truck once he saw you were settled and pulled out of the parking lot. “Long day, huh?”

“God, you don’t even know the half of it,” you groaned. It had indeed been a long day; from parent-teacher conferences to meetings you couldn’t care less about, on top of having to break up multiple fights throughout the day, it was safe to say that you were exhausted.

Daryl chuckled and absentmindedly started chewing on his thumbnail as he pulled onto the back road that would make for a faster route back to your apartment than braving the traffic on the highway. “‘Least s’Friday. Two days’a freedom, huh?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Nope. I need to work on some stupid report. All the teachers have to. We need to have it done by Monday.” You sighed and reached for your husband’s hand and interlaced you fingers through his, something you subconsciously did whenever you noticed him chewing on his thumbnail.

Daryl rubbed his thumb over your knuckles affectionately. “Ya’ll be alright. I don’ have anythin’ planned for the weekend anyways so I’mma be at yer beck and call. Anythin’ ya need, okay?”

You smiled at him. However, before you could say anything, the flashing of another car’s lights caught your attention. The car was in the wrong lane; it was beelining straight for Daryl’s truck. “Shit! Daryl, look out!”

Your words barely registered in the air before Daryl was gripping the steering wheel, trying to swerve out of the maniac’s way. However, by doing so, Daryl lost control of the vehicle, and the car swerved away from the road and into the treeline.

The last thing that you remember was an immense feeling of dread. And then...

It all went black.

Daryl gasped as he regained consciousness. His mind was hazy. His head was pounding. His body was aching, and he very quickly became extremely aware of the fact that he was pinned beneath a piece of debris. What had happened? Why the hell wasn’t he at home? Why was he still in his truck? Why was he pinned beneath his truck’s dashboard?

However, as his mind started to catch up with him, he became acutely aware of what had happened. Another car had been driving on the wrong side of the road, forcing him to have to swerve his truck. The same truck Merle had given to him years ago. The same truck he had used to pick you up from work.

Daryl’s eyes widened and he quickly looked over to his right, praying for the first time in his life. However, he had no idea if his prayers were answered when he saw the state you, the love of his life, were in. You were unconscious, with blood noticably gushing in rivers from your head.

“Shit, Y/N!” Daryl called to you hoarsely, a sharp pain shooting through his upper body when he tried to turn and reach you. He probably had a broken rib. A bruised one, if he was that lucky. “Y/N, oh my god. Darlin’? Peach, please wake up,” he called desperately. He tried his hardest to get to you, but with his body being pinned beneath the dashboard, his attempts were proven to be futile.

To say Daryl was terrified would be an understatement. Other than the pain shooting from his ribcage when he tried to move and the incessant pounding in his head, he was relatively fine. You, on the other hand, looked terrible. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that he couldn’t seem to wake you. His mind was wandering to places he didn’t like. He wouldn’t let his mind accept that you were dead. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t survive if you passed away. The mere thought of having to bury you sent his mind into a spiral, and he started hyperventilating. “Oh god, Peach, please talk to me. Please!”

“Sir, please calm down. Everything is going to be alright.”

The sound of someone’s voice had Daryl snapping his head back to look to his left. His cerulean eyes locked with what appeared to be a police officer, two firemen standing next to him. As Daryl’s mind started to process this new bit of information, he realized that a bunch of police vehicles and an ambulance surrounded the area, as well as a few news reporters. Fucking vultures, Daryl thought about the reporters as his eyes flickered back to the police officer. However, in his place, he found two paramedics, carrying a stretcher. Daryl had barely even realized that the dashboard had been lifted from him. However, before the paramedics could lift him onto the stretcher, Daryl was resisting.

“Nah, get her first,” Daryl basically pleaded with the men in front of him. “Get her first. Please. Take care’a her first.”

“Sir, please remain calm. Just focus on your breathing, okay?”

“Get her first!” Daryl exclaimed as he felt his breathing become more erratic. He was pushing the hands of the men off of him. “God, please. Don’ let her die. Please.”

One of the paramedics signalled something over his shoulder, and soon, the door to your side was being pried open and two other paramedics were tending to you and lifting you out of the car and onto a separate stretcher. Daryl let out a sigh of relief. Good. You were being taken care of. He could relax somewhat. However, his relief was short-lived when the paramedics started moving at a more frantic pace, his worry reappeared.

“What? What’s wrong?!” Daryl exclaimed in a panicked tone. Please don’t let her die, Daryl silently begged to whatever higher power was willing to listen to him.

“Sir, please remain calm. We’ll do everything in our power to ensure your wife’s well-being,” one of the paramedics reassured him. He then beckoned the other paramedic closer and together, began to lift Daryl onto his own stretcher.

Daryl didn’t fight back this time. There was no use to do so. You weren’t in the car anymore. You were being wheeled away to the ambulance. His only option at that moment in time was to co-operate. You’d want him to. He knew that.

As he was wheeled into the ambulance—thankfully the same one that you were in—he turned his head to look at you. The sight that beheld him made him want to burst into tears, but he didn’t. He needed to be strong and hope that your stubbornness prevailed in the face of death, that you’d flip death the bird and live to see another few decades.

You had to be fine. You just had to.

“M’not sure. I think it was a blue car? Was definitely a blueish-black car. One’a the headlights had this weird ass green colourin’ to it and the hood had its paint scraped off. Was white underneath, I think. M’sorry. S’all I remember.”

“It’s okay. Every bit of information helps. We’ll try our best to track the perpetrator down,” a police officer—Deputy Henderson or Hallmark or something—told Daryl, sending him his version of a reassuring smile.

To be quite honest, Daryl could hardly believe that he had retained even that slightest bit of information on the asshole that had caused the car wreck. Everything had happened so fast. Everything had gone to hell in a mere second.

Daryl nodded at the officer and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “S’it alright if I go now?”

The deputy nodded in understanding. “We’ll be sure to keep you updated. Go be with your wife.”

With that, Daryl turned around and walked back towards room 207—the room where you were laying unconscious. As Daryl slowly lowered himself into the chair next to your bed, an action he had done since late the previous evening, ever mindful of his bruised ribs—one lucky thing that had come from the accident, a mere bruised rib—and leaned forward to gingerly take your hand in his, and that was the position he stayed in for nearly two hours. According to the doctors, you would be alright. You suffered from a broken leg, a really horrible concussion, multiple bruises and two deep cuts that needed stitches, but you were otherwise okay.

Daryl didn’t believe in miracles, but in that moment, there was no other word that could describe it. You had looked terrible when the paramedics had rolled you into the ambulance, and Daryl had been convinced that the injuries you had sustained would be far more lethal. It was truly a miracle that you had gotten of relatively okay. However, Daryl still got off better than you, and he felt terrible about that. He would much rather have been suffering in that bed in your place than have to witness you he hurt ever again.

“If you think any harder, you’ll burn a hole right through your head.”

Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. A wave of relief crashed over him, and had it not been for the state you were in, he would have crushed you to him in a hug. However, he settled on tightening his grip on your hand, his cerulean blue eyes staring deeply into your own. “Yer awake,” he whispered, almost disbelievingly.

You nodded and sent him a small smile, albeit a little strained due to the pain that shot through your body when you tried to move. The drugs pumping through your system helped numb most of the pain, but not all of it, however. “I’m awake,” you confirmed, lacing your fingers through his, just like you had done the night before. However, once your eyes focused more, you could see the very prominent bruising on his face and around his eye, making you gasp. “Oh my god, Daryl... What happened?”

Daryl sighed and looked down at the bed, intentionally shielding his injury from you as to not make you worry more. “Car accident,” he began to explain in a quiet tone of voice. “Some asshole was drivin’ in the wrong lane. I had to swerve and then lost control’a the truck. We crashed into a tree.”

You frowned and looked at Daryl in concern. “Are you okay? That bruise—”

Daryl involuntarily let out a small chuckle at your concern. Leave it to you to worry more about other people than yourself, even when you were supposed to worry about yourself. Some things never change. “Yeah, m’fine, Princess. I promise.” Daryl stopped for a moment, swallowing at the lump that formed in his throat, before continuing. “M’so goddamn sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean to cause all’a this.” He gestured to your battered and bruised body for added emphasis. “I was an idiot. I should’a jus’ drove into the other lane. I shouldn’t’a swerved into the fuckin’ treeline. M’so sorry. I—”

“Stop apologizing,” you cut him off with a stern yet gentle voice. “It’s not your fault, you hear me?” Daryl went to protest, but you continued before he could. “It is not your fault. You were placed in an impossible situation and you didn’t have time to think of a plan. You had to act fast, and you did. Imagine if you hadn’t swerved and we collided with that car. We would’ve been worse off. Sure, I’m a little broken and bruised in some places, but I’m fine. I’m alive. There’s absolutely nothing to feel guilty over. You understand?”

Daryl understood. He just didn’t really believe it. However, he wasn’t about to start an argument with you when you were in such a fragile condition. Besides, deep down, Daryl could admit that there was some truth to your words. But he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself until that asshole that caused this was caught for his crimes.

Daryl brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your knuckles. “Okay,” he finally conceded. “M’jus’ real glad yer alive. When I woke up in the truck and saw ya passed out and ya wouldn’t wake up... I thought I had lost ya.” Unwillingly, a few tears fell from your husband’s eyes. He didn’t even notice.

Your heart ached for Daryl. Had the roles been reversed, and he was the one laying in that bed, you’d probably have reacted the same way. You gently rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, silently willing the man to look at you. “I’m here. It’s gonna take a whole lot more than that to take me away from you, I promise.” When Daryl didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to attempt to lighten up the air. You could tell your husband needed a distraction. “You think they’ll give me an extension on that report? I’m not gonna have it done by Monday.”

By some stroke of luck, that had managed to get a small smile from Daryl. He shook his head and looked at you affectionately. “If they don’t give ya that extension, m’personally gonna shoot each and every one’a ‘em.”

You chuckled and sent him a small smile. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Daryl’s smile turned more genuine at your words. “I love ya more, Sunshine.” Before you could respond with your typical “impossible” or “I love you the most”, Daryl’s phone rang. It was the deputy from earlier. Frowning, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

You couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but if Daryl’s suddenly relieved facial expression was anything to go off of, it was good news. The conversation was short and to the point, and when the call ended, you spoke up. “Who was that?”

“Was the deputy,” Daryl explained, a small smile on his face. “They got the son of a bitch.”

You smiled at him and beckoned him over for a hug. Daryl complied and very gently, almost as if you’d break under any sort of pressure, hugged you. Sure, the two of you would have to go and identify the man they had captured’s car, but there was no doubt in Daryl’s mind that the man responsible would soon be behind bars. For once, the legal system hadn’t failed him. You’d get the justice you deserve.

And for the first time since everything had gone down, Daryl was at peace.

[pixelnrd]

It was Heather's birthday, and all she wanted to do to celebrate was enjoy a nice family dinner with Jenny and the kids. But the teenagers weren't speaking to eachother - after the events of the house party and the gossip which had gone around in the aftermath, each child had a reason to be angry at one another.

Quincy was angry with Ginger for daring to hook up with his ex-girlfriend. Yes, he and Kylie were long finished, but for his sister to be the one she rebounded with? It felt like a stab in the guts.

Jasmine was stewing on her guilt for cheating on Aaron. She hadn't been brave enough to do anything to remedy the situation yet. But she was also annoyed at Quincy for getting with her friend - they were her friends, why couldn't her siblings just butt out and stay out? Why did they always have to touch things that were hers?

And Ginger, who hadn't been personally wronged by anyone, judged her siblings for thier behaviours. Quincy, she was disappointed in how he could hurt Kylie the way he did. It was so juvenile. And Jasmine, well she had lost all respect for her. Ms goody-two-shoes, wasn't so above them all now.

Try as they might to keep their emotions at bay for the sake of their Mom's birthday, the tension finally spilt over at the dinner table and the accusations came flying.

'She's my ex-girlfriend, Ginger!' yelled Quincy to his sister. 'Literally, anyone else would be fine. Why did you have to make it so weird? Why do you have to always be so weird??'

'She's not your girlfriend anymore, and she can do what she wants,' snapped Ginger. 'Besides, you hurt her with your stupid little bedroom party with Rebecca. You don't get to take any moral high ground.'

'Yeah,' piped up Jasmine, ready to let loose on Quincy and how gross he was. 'You're one to talk Q, why couldn't you hook up with literally anyone other than my friend? Just stay in your lane and with your burnout buddies!'

'You don't get to talk like you're better than me,' scowed Quincy. 'We all know what you did, Jasmine.'

'Yeah,' sneered Ginger. 'Ms perfect, not such a perfect person anymore are you? You always think you're better than us all but really you're just as flawed! How does that medicine taste, huh?'

Jasmine was mortified by the nastiness of their accusations. Little did she know how much bitterness Quincy and Ginger had harboured against her for the years of high school where she had kept them in their place while she enjoyed popularity.

Jenny and Heather couldn't believe the outburst they were witnessing. They had given their children all the freedoms of liberal parenting, and here they were using it against one another to bring each other down.

Jasmine ran from the table first, crying and wanting to be alone to figure out what to do. The others soon followed and they all retreated to their bedrooms to tend to their wounded egos. Everyone was confused about the kind of person they were, or hoped to be.

Fade into you, strange you never knew 🎶

[zaundads]

Ultimate Zaundads Quote guides

All the important Zaundads Quotes

I was reading this post on iconic couple quotes and I realized that this is kinda hard for Zaundads considering they have like two scenes where they actually talk to each other. So it's hard not to do "well, just everything". Still, here are all the best ones, highlightes for my faves.

"I trusted you. And you betrayed me."

"I'll show you what you really are."

"I hated you, but you kept my respect."

"I hated you for what you'd done. But as time passed, so did my hate. "

"What I did to you… I've never forgiven myself."

"Greatest thing we can do in life is find the power to forgive."

"What's the point if we can't raise an ankle biter or two?"

"We shared a vision, Vander. A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but the whole of the underground, united as one. The nation of Zaun. Do you even remember?"

"I had no choice." - "Perhaps. But now you do. Shimmer. We have the power. We can finally realize our dream,"

"Silco. Let her go. This is between you and me." - "You had your chance."

"You'd die for the cause, but you won't fight for one? "

"I knew you still had it in you."

"Ever wonder what it's like to drown? Story of opposites. There's peace in water. Like it's holdin' you, whisperin' in low tones to let it in. And every problem in the world will fade away. But then there's this thing… …in your head, and it's raging. Lighting every nerve with madness. To fight. To survive. And all the while, this question lingers before you: "Have you had enough?" It's funny. You could pass a lifetime without ever facing a choice like that. But it changes you forever. For that, I thank you… old friend."

"Oh, it all makes sense now, brother."

"A thousand times I've imagined this moment. Never like this. All we ever wanted."

"You hear that, Bozo 2? We made it. We're done. Oh, you're sadly mistaken. I'm Bozo 1."

"I've looked everywhere, but… it's clear you don't wanna be found. God, I'm shit at this. I'm sorry. When she died, I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it. But the dirt was on both our hands. Anyway, you know where to find me. Blisters and bedrock. V."

"If he found this, everything might have been different."

Bonus "indirect quotes"

"Benzo, stay back. […] Wait!" (Vander not wanting Benzo to attack Silco)

"We had nothing. You know what bore us through those times? Loyalty. Brothers and sisters back-to-back against whatever the world threw at us. Now I'm forced to share the air with parasites like you, who leach off their legacies."

"Tonight a harebrained scheme these two bozos cooked up to turn a dank crack in the earth into a thriving, healthy community became a reality."

"He isn't a monster. He was once a man. Well respected, at that. Victim of great tragedy. He had a ferocious will to live. An incredible tolerance for pain. With him, I was able to make strides impossible with any other specimen. But the mind... The mind I could not recover. The man forever lost in the bowels of the beast, compelled only by the scent of blood. Or so I thought. It now seems I had yet to uncover the right catalyst. S: Blisters and bedrock." (Singed in 2x05, followed by Warwick's nightmare of Silco)

"I saw your father. His dream of your family and vision of Zaun as it could have been, it was… beautiful." (Viktor about Vander in 2x08)

"So there's a chance for us yet." (Silco to Vander in 2x07)

Merchant: "This is vile." Vander: "You'll learn to love it." (Vander about Zaunite tobacco)

"There's worse things than enforcers out there." (Vander about ?? Silco? Other Zaunite criminals? )

"Fear haunts us all, child." (Silco about ?? The dreams he has about Vander drowning him?)

"Betrayal, that pain that feels like it'll eat you from the inside out,"

"You two are gonna figure this Zaun thing out. I don't care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock, covered in blisters. You're not allowed to fail anymore."

"Nearly forgot. I ran into an old friend of yours. He had some stories. You weren't always the peacekeeper, were you? - Yeah, well, you can't escape the past. Right?"" (Marcus and Vander about Silco)

"You told me a million times. [...] Blah, blah, blah [...]" (Jinx complaining about just how often Silco talks about Vander)

"Silco thinks he made Jinx, with all his rants and his hard-won lessons. "Excise your doubts, Jinx." "Be what they fear, Jinx." Like everything was the same as when Vander left him."

Did I forget any? What is your ultimate Silco and Vander quote?

Bonus:

Full dialogue of selected scenes under the cut:

Silco and Vander in 1x03: S: It's a little crude, I'll admit. The base violence necessary for change. But we both know topside won't listen to anything else. V: Even with your monsters, you won't win a war against Piltover. S: I don't have to. I just need to scare them. They won't dare set foot in the underground again. V: You'll get people killed. For what? Pride? S: For respect. Opportunity. Everything they've denied us. V: You had my respect. The Lanes' respect, but that… that was never enough for you. S: We shared a vision, Vander. A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but the whole of the underground, united as one. The nation of Zaun. Do you even remember? I trusted you. And you betrayed me. V: What I did to you… I've never forgiven myself. You were my brother. S: No, you still don't understand. Can you imagine what it's like? When your blood mixes with the filth and the river toxins eat through your nerves. Oh, I hated you for what you'd done. But as time passed, so did my hate. And I was left with an understanding. The only way to defeat a superior enemy is to stop at nothing. To become what they fear. I hated you, but you kept my respect. Until you made peace with them. Played lapdog after everything we suffered. V: I had no choice. S: Perhaps. But now you do. Shimmer. We have the power. We can finally realize our dream, brother. V: Look at what you've done. Benzo. These kids. In fighting topside, you'd sacrifice everything that we are. It's not the way. Can't you see that? kill me if you have to, but please spare the Lanes. S: You'd die for the cause, but you won't fight for one? V: I'm just… not that man anymore. S: I'll show you what you really are.

Jinx and Silco 1x05:

S: I almost drowned in these waters. J: You told me a million times. S:Vander wasn't the man you thought he was. J: Right, he was like a brother to you, and he turned his back and blah, blah, blah. Did I miss anything? S: I've got a new one for you. That day, I let a weak man die. And another was reborn. Betrayal, that pain that feels like it'll eat you from the inside out, can either break you or forge you into something greater. You need to let Powder die. So the fear of pain will no longer control you. You're strong now. Just like you were always meant to be. Jinx is perfect.

Silco vs Chembarons 1x07: Have you forgotten where we came from? The mines they had us in? Air so thick it clogged your throat. Stuck in your eyes. But I pulled you all up from the depths. Offered you a taste of topside. And fresh air. I gave you life. Purpose. But you've grown fat and complacent. Too much time in the sun. We came from a world where there was never enough to go around, Finn. That is why we fight. Do you remember?

Silco vs Finn 2x09: S: I'm busy. F: When you took Vander out of play, I thought, "Now here's a man who understands what it takes to run an enterprise." The attitude, the instinct, the eye. The whole package, you were. Always two steps ahead. But time's lapped you, old man. S: You're with him, are you? F: You screwed up, Silco. S: You're too young to remember what the undercity was before it became an "enterprise".We had nothing. You know what bore us through those times? Loyalty. Brothers and sisters back-to-back against whatever the world threw at us. Now I'm forced to share the air with parasites like you, who leach off their legacies. F: Today's the day you die, Silco. S: That's a risk I've known all my life. But I still believe in loyalty.

Silco at the Vander statue: S: A thousand times I've imagined this moment. Never like this. All we ever wanted. The boy didn't even haggle. And what do I lose but problems? Oh, it all makes sense now, brother. Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?

Vander, SIlco and Felicia in 2x05:

V: What's the occasion? F: Hmm. Can't a lady just be in the mood for a familiar song? V: Not this lady, and not this song. F: Tonight a harebrained scheme these two bozos cooked up to turn a dank crack in the earth into a thriving, healthy community became a reality. V: Tonight, eh? You hear that, Bozo 2? We made it. We're done. S: Oh, you're sadly mistaken. I'm Bozo 1. V: A night of revelations. F: I'm knocked up. A girl. V: How do you know? F: Mm. Wasn't really part of my plan, but guess that's everything when you're living week to week. V: What did Connol say? F: I haven't told him. Working up the nerve. I don't know anything about kids. I get sweaty being alone with one. V: Hey, you're gonna be a great mother. F: Shut up. I'm not ready for that. I started trying to come up with a name, and it hits me that this one word is a decision she's gonna live with her whole life. I can't protect her from all the shit down here and work out how to be a parent at the same time. Then I realized, I don't have to. V: Hmm? Why's that? F: Because the second I told you, I put you on the hook. You two are gonna figure this Zaun thing out. I don't care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock, covered in blisters. You're not allowed to fail anymore. For her. For me. V: What's the point if we can't raise an ankle biter or two? S: To Zaun, then. Blisters and bedrock. V: Blisters and bedrock. I've always liked the name Violet.

[alisha-on-arcane]

Episode 7 - Silco's Zaun or Vander's undercity?

We all love "Pretend Like It's The First Time", right. But there's two ways of interpreting it, and I like one better... 1. This is Silco's Zaun. At some point, possibly right after Vi's death, he got Vander back on side for his revolution. Using Silco's unethical but very effective methods, they got freedom for Zaun and it worked out pretty well for everyone. Silco runs the place but he's trying to hand responsibility on to the next generation, and it's sufficiently easy a job now that at 5pm every day his adoring husband knows to have a post-work cocktail ready for him. 2. This is Vander's undercity. At some point Silco went back to Vander - maybe he got the letter, stormed into the bar to yell at Vander, and Vander poured him the best liquor and let him continue yelling for three hours. At which point he fell into Vander's arms and bed and has been there ever since. No more Shimmer, no more unethical methods or exploiting Lanes kids like Deckard, he's Nice Now and talks about forgiveness. It doesn't matter that the undercity isn't free, it is clean and safe and prosperous and they're happy together in it.

In both cases this appears to also improve the weather, with Mylo, Claggor, Heimerdinger, Powder and Ekko working on poison absorption and air cleanup technology (I love that).

I like 1 better, of course - I think it fits better with the season 1 themes of there being things worth fighting for. But... we don't see any Zaun symbols or flags, as far as I can tell, and only a few hints of Shimmer colour (like the lanterns over Ekko and Powder). It doesn't even really look like Zaun - the glass is a Piltover-style glass, the people don't look that rough and vibrant, they're having a cute competition.

Also Silco seems to be drinking from his hipflash initially. I know the hipflask is a symbol of zaundads understanding, but it's odd to be using a hipflask in your own house if you're a person of importance and responsibility. Also, he's lost his trademark Shimmer eye, hopefully because he has better medicine in this AU but if not... (At least he got Vander to dress properly. As soon as I saw Vander in this AU I thought "ohhh is that the influence of- ") The second option... well I can see how they could leave that open for the Silco-haters and extreme centrists. But it's a bit darker, isn't it. I am also wondering what exactly Vander did to get and keep Silco that... pliant.

[nfatcheese]

i love how back in season one, sevika came off as a traitor after she betrayed vander and joined silco, but now in season two it's so clear that her loyalty has always been to the underground.

she worked for vander when he was the unifying beacon for the lanes, but he had become idle and was letting topside roll over them. she didn't join silco just to betray vander, she joined him because he was the only one doing something about topside. like he wasn't perfect but she was loyal to him because his dream was what vander's used to be: freedom from piltover.

and now that they're both dead, she's still trying to hold zaun together. she tries to keep the chembarons from infighting, she hosts the rally (at vander's statue no less), and she pushes for jinx to be a symbol for the underground. she hates jinx but she believes in her because jinx now represents zaun's best chance at freedom.