#which is probably the worst reason to have a party but who cares

[sheepispink]

A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

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Masterlist AO3

pairings: Simon Ghost Riley/ Reader (platonic or romantic, up to you)

tags: probably loads of military inaccuracies, anxiety attacks (possibly?), heavy angst, angst and comfort, paranoia, bad mental health, cuddling and literal sleeping together (up to you romantic or platonic)

A/N: I’d appreciate if no one complained abt the accuract/realistic of the story (ofc if its the characterisation of ghost that’s perfectly ok!) i’m open for criticisation for how i write etc etc but this is a sensitive topic and.. based off personal experiences 😅😅 so it’s very realistic to me even if its not to you!

This technically takes place after this fic but it’s not a big deal in which the order you read it

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You’re an introvert, even if you do get excited really quickly, loud around people you’ve known for a while and love meeting new people. Yet still, you call yourself an introvert, even if that technically still makes you an extroverted introvert. You don't like the sound of an extrovert— someone who thrives off of others' attention and loves to be the center of it, who brightens their days with their friends and always wants to make plans with anyone and everyone. You like the attention sometimes; when Price mentions your name in a conversation, praising your skills, your heart thumps a little louder. Being at the limelight of the party isn't always the worst thing either, especially when everyone laughs at your jokes so hard they double over, grinning so wide you can't help it either. You love your friends, your teammates, even the random soldiers you’ve only exchanged small greetings with. The love for others is held tight in your heart’s vessels, bursting each and every time they make you smile or you just see their presence. You feel so warm and alive when you give them a grin in the mornings, even more so when they seek out your presence throughout the day.

Though, that only applies sometimes— never always.

A familiar soldier could ask you out to lunch and yet your chest begins to twist uncomfortably, like someone is wringing your intestines with their hands. Something screams at you when they say those words, like an invisible line had just been crossed that had been clear in everyone's heads. You had only ever spoken to those soldiers in the gym or around base, there was nowhere else even remotely personal you’d think to take them to. One on one conversations were not common either, since it wasnt that often. It’s not that you don't like them, it’s just.. not right. You’d shake your head apologetically as you force an excuse between your teeth. The regret you then express is a lie, along with the love you felt before— only reduced to a being who could never hold any of those things.

The truth is, you have a sick little parasite in you, it claws at that heart muscle, tearing away the flesh and devouring any love you feel for the people you care about and replacing it with an empty feeling which is always followed by an unreasonable hatred. Your mind grows dark, headaches permanent, as you live through the day as a skeleton of yourself— no longer able to hold any love within you as it slips past your bones in seconds. You don't like the boundaries you’ve mentally set for each person to be crossed, even if it’s a perfectly normal task. In fact, some may even say you’re scared of change. You don’t like to put a label on these things, hell you don't even like to think too hard on these things. It begins to make sense when you sit and reflect, piecing all the reasons for your behaviour together until you hit the final point. Soon you’re done, finally aware of the most significant reasoning behind your antics. The only issue is, being self aware doesn't mean you get any better; no matter how many nights you sit and stare at that mirror, nothing changes.

The only thing you gained was the ability to squash down the parasite from prying eyes. Excuses fall from your lips quickly, no matter how bad you feel when they give you that look of disappointment. It’s not your fault— you know you won't be able to handle an outing like that, you’d get too worked up. Why? You don't need to dwell on it, not right now. This continues for multiple people, multiple soldiers for two weeks, until you're ‘normal’ and you hang around others again. People begin to subconsciously catch on and so your little routine continues to carry on moving so well, staying right on track.

“Sarge? You aint comin’ to team night? Why?”

Ghost stands at the door of your quarters, dressed in his typical training attire whilst you’re sitting in something cozy, made for home wear. You have to fight the urge to cover yourself up. “Oh right.. i, uh..yknow, lot of paperwork to do. Thought i’d stay in.”

You say with a small smile, attempting to ease any concerns he had before but little did you know, he was already growing aware of your little issue, or at least the fact there was one within you. “Paperwork? On a Friday? You should be relaxin’.” You grit your teeth a little, the burning urge inside of your chest returning just like the sick pit in your stomach. It felt so awful fearing just a simple team night out, but it was just so late and you were so tired— you didnt have the energy to be rational the whole time, to think of your next move constantly.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll come to the next one.” You shrug, turning back to your small desk as you pull another small stack of papers in front of you. His boots thump loudly against the floorboards, sounding like the heavy thump of your heart in your ears. It stops, suddenly, behind your back and your body stiffens as he leans down, looking at the paperwork you’re going through. It’s a lie— naturally, you finished it all. He doesn't even have to stare at you first nor visibly raise a brow; you’re already waiting for him to call out your bluff just as quickly.

“You can just say you want some time alone, yknow.” That catches you off guard, half expecting him to just tell you to stop whining and grab some drinks. His words were still difficult though, how could you easily just say that? Of course, the words itself aren't the hard part, nor speaking it—it’s the implications behind said words. An excuse means you have other things to occupy you, so no one dares to disturb you much after that, however explaining you want some alone time gives way to more questions. Specifically the first being: why? Then they begin to wonder if you’ve been doing okay recently or if you’re struggling with something. You dont like the idea of that at all— people thinking about you in that way. It feels weird, almost like it’s wrong. Sometimes you wished people would just not care, and leave you alone to wallow with yourself.

“Sarge?” You snap out of it, sheepishly scratching the back of your head as he still stands behind you and you turn in your chair, putting the best meek face you can on for the night. “What? No, that’s not why I declined. I’m not really feeling any alcohol today and a new episode of a series I previously binged on the weekend just came out. Sorry.. didn't want to make it seem i was ditching anyone for a show.” Perfect, an awkward grin had tied it all off into a well constructed excuse. Even if it was partially true and this really wasn't fake, it sure felt like everything you did was an act. After all, you really didn't want them to think you were ditching anyone, and you didn't feel like having any alcohol tonight. “A new series” He says gruffly, and you nod with a tight smile, teeth gritting so hard you’re sure they’ll break in a few seconds. “I’ll join you then.”

You blink once, twice, three times in pure utter confusion. Ghost—The Ghost, whose name is rumoured across the battlefield and known for never giving into idle small talk—wants to watch the series you lied about, with you.

You’ve never felt more guilty in your entire life, practically fumbling for a solution. You could just tell the truth, say no and admit you needed to be alone. But this is the first time he’s ever expressed wanting to hang around you, actually together and alone— and miss out on a team night?! He may just want an excuse out of it, but still, you can't just say no now. “Well yeah, i just..” You hate how there’s no easy way out of this in the slightest, torn between saving your own mental health or finally getting close to the teammate who you’ve been on eggshells around for nearly a year now. “My room’s not exactly clean--“

He cuts you off with a gruff, shake of his head, a scoff resounding in his next words, promptly embarrassing you too. “There ya go— knew you wanted to be alone.”

You fumble, not understanding how he managed to pry it out of you so fast, just a simple lie blowing your cover. “I said it wasn't like-“

“See you tomorrow.” He’s gone just as fast as he silenced you, heavy footsteps disappearing out of your door and down the corridors. What you couldn't wrap your head around is how fast he had figured it out and made you confess to your lies that fast— it was a real problem, something you couldn't just let slide. If he knew, did others too?

Unfortunately for you, the very much needed alone time didn’t help as well as it usually did considering this new information has threatened everything that made up the core of your very being—specifically everything keeping you glued together. You just couldn't sit there and possibly relax like you usually did when alone (more specifically think over everything you’ve done wrong until you quite literally fell asleep mid thought)— not when Ghost could clearly read everything you had ever thought about in your life.

That being said, you’ve been a nervous wreck all week, concentrating so hard on looking sane that you’ve barely paid a second of attention to things you should’ve listened to. It’s not like you slipped up regularly, but before that day you were already feeling pretty uneasy and now with still no relief and the added stress, you feel like you really might lose it any second now. Every time you see him, every word exchanged with your teammates—with another person—it eats at you, tugging further on the ropes you’re hanging onto. They’re already been pulled thin, especially since you’ve been put in charge of a group of rookies for the past few weeks now. Of course, you had pulled the short straw when assignments went round because not only did your group love to talk back, but they loved to test every limit by asking the most stupid of questions possible. It’s the second time now you’ve had to lecture one of the rookies about why you can’t just ‘throw a grenade at the enemies’. It’s only temporary, just basic training exercises and medical procedures they need to know until the Officer, who usually oversees them, returns from their sick leave.

You let out a long breath as you enter the small break room, also known as taskforce 141’s meeting room but they’ve let you lounge in here too many times to count. It’s quiet in here, Soap and Gaz both on missions and you assume Ghost must be too. It’s the first time you’ve been able to relax all week, knowing damn well Price is down in London with Gaz. Your shoulders sag, the miserable look returning to cover your features now that you don't need to pull that tight smile anymore. Your chest physically aches from how anxious you’ve been all day, the weight of the day’s mistakes and fears of the future swelling deep in your gut. You know it’s a Friday, know you should just take a long sleep but you can’t help but think about all you have to do for the days to follow. You’re busy the whole day tomorrow, a team outing you can’t deny no matter how much you really do not want to go. Just thinking of all the final work you’ll have to cram in on Sunday makes a splitting pain run along the bumps in your brain. Even your breaths begin to feel shorter, an uncomfortable feeling that you just still cant rid of no matter how long you take deep breaths. Your eyes are weighed down with exhaustion and yet your brain refuses to let you sleep yet. No, you cannot. If you sleep the night away then you’ll only have Sunday left for yourself, and that won't work out, will it?

You pick up the mug you had just stirred, hoping the drink would soothe at least something if not your dehydrated body. Taking a small sip, the hot liquid spills down your throat, leaving a warm feeling in your ribs. “Alone by choice or force?” A gruff voice rings out behind you, along with an arm reaching around to supposedly grab a teabag as well, is enough to make you flinch. Stumbling on your own feet, your mug jolts and the steaming water splashes against your shoulder. If you were worried about someone catching you so vulnerable before, you were certainly terrified now, especially since your skin was burning from a small startle.

“Fuck— sorry—“

Ghost’s gloved hand settle on one side of your waist while the other quickly takes the mug from your hands and places it upon the counter. You cant respond, barely processing the situation and everything just feels like too much and your skin feels so hot, you know he’s seeing you fall apart and still there’s nothing you can do—

Your thoughts snap to a blank when he presses the cold rag against your burning skin. Thankfully the layers of the training uniform stops any severe marks from forming. His other hand rubs your cheek, his mask so close it could brush your face, and you can actually see every speck of brown in his irises. You can't look at him for long though, moving your gaze away quickly, not when you know what you’ve done. For the past week or two you’ve hated him, painting the most horrible picture in your mind. It wasnt even on purpose, you’ve just started seeing everything wrong about him. He doesnt give the rookies much mercy, nor does he particularly entertain any of Soap’s antics even when the situation is pretty lax. He’s boring, he seems to care about nothing but himself somedays, he refuses to let you do something stupid and he never takes that damn mask off even when you’re all supposed to trust one another. You’ve lied to him, yes, forgetting about your hatred when he made you laugh with those gruff remarks. But he’s not the only one— no, you’ve began to hate everyone in this task force, picking at them and every little thing. It’s weird, you don't want to victimize yourself, because you know you’ve done just as much wrong too. But still, somedays you really can't look past the list of things you dislike about your own friends.

“Are you alright? I havent seen you all week.”

Of course he hasn't, you’ve been avoiding them all. It’s nearly impossible to think straight these days and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fake it so naturally, you just stayed away. The more you did it, the better it began to feel. Avoiding them was the solution— you were just the thorn in their side with your tricky mood swings and anxiety always painting them to be the villain. You couldnt just allow this to happen, to destroy them with your issues even if they had no idea about it.

But now, face to face with him, all you feel is unexplainable guilt for everything you’ve done to them— how could you even hate them for a second? His hand is still rubbing at your skin, nudging your face gently upwards just so you’d at least look at him for a second. “Really? The silent treatment now?.” He sighs and you hate yourself, how did you let this spiral to this point— to where he’s apologising to you and yet you wish you could just disappear. Isnt this what you wanted? For everyone to be kind to you? So why are you running— why do you refuse care?

Your lips press together as your teeth bite down on the soft flesh, torn from how much you’ve picked at the skin the whole week. It aches with anxiety, and your teeth hurt from how often you’ve clenched them so hard they scraped against eachother. The only thing you can do is stand there as Ghost fusses over you, trying to get you to move a damn muscle instead of falling apart silently like some kind of broken watch, unable to move forward or backwards. Just still.

“Sarge— snap out of it, look, I'm sorry. Okay?”

His hands are still on you, and you’ve begged for a day where someone would care this much about you and still, you step back, almost afraid. “I’m sorry, Ghost.” You croak out, your hands reaching up to your eyes as you wipe at your skin obsessively, trying to hide and stop anything from leaking. “Why’re you apologising?” He says gruffly, confused by all of this, this sudden onslaught of emotion.

He’s not stupid, he had a feeling you weren't quite yourself this week. Stupidly, he figured you’d just deal with it on your own. That's what everyone did, right? He knows he just takes a breather when he feels a little rough— even Price had his own battles. Comfort isn't a strong point for Ghost, not even when he was Simon Riley, never has and he never thinks it will be. He’s born and bred on violence and the coldness that comes after it, the lack of warmth even as hot blood trickles and emptiness consumes the space where his fellow soldiers should be. So watching you crumble right before him, apologising profusely while your body wracks with shaken breaths, makes something stop in him too. He doesn't know how he’ll do it, but he knows damn well no one fights alone anymore.

“Look at me.”

He says firmly, both his hands landing firmly on your shoulders, one hand even tempted to just force your chin up but you shake your head profusely. “Why not?” He stays patient for you, even if he knows he may have to force you soon— its the least he can do for you. “I cant look at you. Not after everything i did.” He pauses, hands now settling on your jaw in confusion, he knows this is moving towards an interrogation but he has to know. “What are you talking about?! What did you do?”

“I hated all of you! I avoided you all and destroyed our relationship, i fucked it all up.”

With that he cant stand to see this continue, a gloved hand firmly planted over your mouth as the other wraps around your back. He leads you to the couch even as you squirm, not caring in the slightest. He knows he has strength and not comfort, so he’ll use it to shut you up whilst the truth comforts you instead.

“Look at me.” He says sternly and you do, eyes snapping up with wide fear as you look at him. “That’s not true— okay? None of us consider our relationship with you ruined, not one of us has even mentioned you in a bad light at all.” He makes sure your whole body is pressed against the back of the couch, considering that you didnt particularly look as if you could hold yourself up right now.

“Soap has only talked to me about you once recently— he told me you helped him organize the training schedules for the rookies. Told me to thank you for it because he felt he did not express his gratitude enough. Do you understand now? No one’s mad at you– not one of us have even considered anything to have gone wrong.”

His hand grabs your own, settling it on the center of his chest so you can feel the pattern of his breathing, silently praying you’d try and match it. You can only blink at him though, slowly processing his words with each passing second until his hand leaves your mouth and your lips part, breath hitched before you swallow a sharp breath. “I’ve avoided all of you– i’ve been hating all of you.” You choke out, chest clenching with regret and the weight of unreasonable guilt and his other hand moves to hold your face again, his brown eyes piercing into yours with his silence.

“What is like to hate someone?”

“What?”?

“What is it like to hate someone?” He repeats, his thumb pressing gently into the curve of your cheek.

“I-...” You falter, thinking for a moment before your lips part again. “I dont like things that they do— the way they act and everything about them.”

“You’d avoid them too, right? Like that general you hated. Remember when he touched you and you pushed his hand away?

You nod along in agreement, breathing a bit slower to hopefully ease the pressure on your chest at the moment.

“Y-yeah.. i’d express my dislike clearly..”

“So why did you never push me away the past few weeks? You said you avoided us, but you would always speak to us if we needed to. You still helped Soap too.”

You pause, blinking at him in confusion now, you had convinced yourself that you hated them so why did you never.. actually express it?

“You’re also letting me touch you now and last week you didn't want to hang out with us, but you didnt want to hurt our feelings by saying that.”

You’re left silent, baffled and confused because in your head, you were being horrible to them, hating their guts like it was nothing.

“I think… whatever is going on in that head of yours.” He says slowly, tapping at your forehead gently as you look up at him with widened eyes. “You’ve held it in for too long. You’ve dwelled on those thoughts, so self aware of your own anxieties that you’ve distorted reality. You think you’ve done something bad, because you can't understand why you always feel so bad.” His voice is softer than usual, even if his words are still gruff and holds his thick Manchester accent.

Somehow that alone reminds you that Simon has never lied, not even once, to you. That stern voice of his is straightforward, doesnt mess around and forces his way through any problem. Just like he had just pushed himself to the root of your mind and destroyed your seeds of doubt.

“You’re allowed to talk to us you know. I have a funny feeling you’re scared o’ somethin’. Not sure what just yet.”

He doesnt force you to respond, just speaking his thoughts even if that’s what you usually do when you’re together. The couch creaks as he stand up, pulling you to get up aswell beside him. He places a hand on the crook of your back, gently encouraging you to begin walking towards the door. “Cmon, back to my room. Lets get you cleaned up properly.”

Before you know it, you’re sitting against the headboard of his bed, something you had only felt months ago when you first came here, scared and confused over a stupid hornet. You trusted him to help you then, but you dont understand why you suddenly felt that fear again. Meanwhile, your shirt is half off, Ghost sat on the bed beside you as he inspects the burns on your chest from the tea. It’s harsh, the skin reddened but not enough to be something serious thankfully. He presses a cool towel against it, soothing the stinging skin but he knows it’ll fade out soon enough. You’re wearing his old shirt, and he gave you some comfortable sweatpants too for good measure. You just watch all his moves so quietly, feeling like a ghost yourself in this moment from how detached you are. It’s weird, feeling so much yet nothing at the same time.

“Nothing too bad, should be alright by the morning.” He hums, lifting the fresh mug of tea he brewed for you and brings it to your lips for you to sip before he steals some for himself. “Is your chest still tight?” You blink, not expecting him to ask that of all things because you hadnt exactly mentioned that part and yes, it was. “How did you know..?” Your hand reaches out, silently asking for more of the tea he graciously lets you sip, unable to fathom how he brews it so perfectly each time. “You were clutching at your chest before and your breaths are a little shorter than they should be.” He’s seen straight through you again so you slump your shoulders and just nod quietly. “Yeah, it’s really tight. It’s always like this and i dont know how to make it stop.”

His gloved hand reaches out, gently rubbing at your chest thus making you sink a little back into the pillows. Before he can respond, you speak up with a quiet confession. “That day, when you came ‘round, I was upset. You said you wanted to watch the series with me and I felt so bad. I didn't want to give up my only chance of spending time with you, but I knew my head couldn't take it.”

He nods along quietly, letting you reveal it all to him. “T-then you figured me all out and i got scared— i didnt want someone to know everything about me because i didnt want to be a problem. I want someone to listen but i dont want to be seen as something different. I just.. i dont know how to handle all of this. I dont feel like the person i am when i look in the mirror.”

The strangest thing of all is that it didnt actually take you long to figure it out. You knew all along, of course, but when you’re fighting against yourself, you’re supporting both sides and so a part of you decided not to dwell on a certain bit of information too much. The reason for that to be pushed aside is no part of you wanted to face it.

Your heart always secretly wished someone would find out— that someone would push past the walls you’ve banged so hard against even if they were crafted by the webs of your brain. You prayed and prayed that they’d read through it all, express their concern and one day, one day you’d be saved from this hellish feeling. It was a common daydream for you and yet you were terrified of it. If someone knew, there was no guarantee they’d follow the fantasy. They could ridicule you, or they couldnt be able to comfort you at all, maybe they’d try and it wouldnt even do anything or maybe, just maybe— they wouldnt give a damn about it. What happened then? If that daydream was real, and that was the final outcome, there was no turning back in time. It seemed like only one person would ever figure you out, after all, no one had up until this point.

But then Simon became aware, and you got terrified. You hid away because you were too scared to know his reaction to your problems, even more so his reaction to you. You wanted someone to help, you really did, and yet your brain feared to know the uncertain future of it.

His ungloved hands card through your hair, the callouses gentle against your scalp as he slowly scratches at it. “You need to speak with us, and the others. Your feelings are real— hell, we all have our doubts. I used to feel it before every mission. Soap began to tell me his, then Gaz joined too. Price always looks for a way to solve it, and i give my two pence when i feel i want to. Just cause you feel different, doesnt mean you are. Plenty o’ people felt the same way you did before.”

“Really..? I’m not like.. crazy?”

“No, never. Even if you do some stupid shit sometimes.”

That makes you finally crack a real smile, even if its small and you’re unable to stifle the small chuckle that bubbles in your throat and although he’s the epitome of stoicism, he smiles beneath the mask. “Everyone’s out on a mission, ya can't leave me alone tonight. C’mere.”

You settle yourself in the crook of arm as he lays back against the bed with you, propping up his laptop on his lap as he searches for a good movie.

“You better report back to me everyday this week, alright? I want you here at nine pm sharp, dressed in your pajamas. That’s an order.”

Thinking over all your previous daydreams of how this would eventually go, this was far from how you expected it to be. Firstly, you never expected Ghost, nor it to happen in the military at all. Perhaps you thought maybe later in life it’d occur or maybe Soap or Price would figure it out. Either way, you arent actually upset over it. No one would be your fairy tale saviour in life, coming forward to fight the demons that plagued your head all the time. Even so, the way Ghost had shut you up and calmed you down makes you think he’s pretty damn close to being one, even if knights usually dont scoff at their princess.

He doesnt even look like he’d be willing to give a little kid a hug, but still, you couldnt be happier with how this turned out in the end. Compared to fairytale princes and men in the movies, you knew Ghost and you knew he was serious— so if he wanted to help you, he would. And no, he wouldnt ridicule you throughout the process, nor ever feel like you’ve been misheard. You know that if you spoke to Ghost, he’d listen earnesty and never forget, carrying that around with him even if those anxieties eventually died out.

You knew he’d always linger around, never forgetting you or leaving you behind. Just like a Ghost.

“Okay, i promise i will.”

You say softly, pressing your cheek against the curve of his chest, the faint thump of his heartbeat drowning out any lost thoughts. He was your support, and no matter how bad it got for you, no matter how many times you get overwhelmed and lash out, not even when you avoid everyone— he’d never break away. No, he would always be beside you.

[quin-ns]

Twin Flame (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Word count: 11.6K

Summary: you play people just for the fun of it and they’re none the wiser. the only one who knows the real you is your best friend, rafe cameron, who you have the most fun toying with—and the feeling is mutual

Tags: (18+), toxic!rafe, toxic!reader (they match each others freak heavily), manipulative and mean!reader, violence, brief jj x reader, smidge of dubcon, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, biting, all that fun stuff and messy drama

A/N: writing toxic!reader was so fun actually. had this set pre/in season 1 in my mind so rafe isn’t fullll psycho yet. this is long ik but the plot was plotting and it’s worth it i swear

OBX masterlist + main masterlist

A lot of people would say Rafe wasn’t a great guy. Probably not even a good one. Hell, not even a decent one. But you didn’t care about any of that because, for some reason, Rafe Cameron was your best friend in the world, and you were his.

You didn’t have an exact reason for it, but everyone knew it was true. Sure, you had a few guesses. It could be because you had been Sarah’s friend first but picked him over her, and he needed that sort of validation. Maybe it was because you weren’t like his other friends, most of which you could only handle in small doses. Maybe it was because the two of you saw eye to eye on a lot of things. You looked at the world the same way as him and it was something neither of you had encountered before each other.

Or maybe it was because, even though people somewhat knew the real him, he was the only one close enough to know the real you, and he liked that.

The highs were high with Rafe for sure, but the lows were low. As much fun as the two of you had together, you would fight like words could cut and you were both going for the kill. It was because you really saw each other that you could exist in such a friendship and still return to one another. You understood the worst of each other in ways no one else could.

Whatever it was that drew him to you and kept him there, you didn’t really care. You were partners in crime so long you didn’t feel the urge to ask, and you were certain he felt the same way.

The ‘crime’ thing was literal today, which was lucky, because today was a good day between the two of you.

You were just coming off of an argument that led you to ignore him for two whole days. Then he showed up at your house with a brand new dress and an invite to a party. You’d already been invited to the same party, but the dress was a cute little black piece that was perfect for you.

Rafe was the only one of your friends who regularly bought you things, and even though you could afford them for yourself, you appreciated the thought and effort. And just like that, you accepted the bribe and forgave him. You took your time to get ready and he kept you company, catching up on the last two days as if nothing had happened. You joined him in his drug dealer, Barry’s, trailer as he bought supplies for the party.

You watched Rafe as he drove away from Barry’s with his jaw clenched. He must’ve felt you watching because it didn’t take him long to clue you in on why his mood had suddenly gone sour.

“I should’ve punched him,” Rafe said pointedly, throwing you a glance.

“He sells you coke, so suck it up,” you advised, fighting off a smirk as Rafe’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t care so I don’t see why it bothers you so much.”

Of course you got why it bothered him. Most of the time you didn’t bother to pretend around him the way you did in front of everyone else. He could easily decipher your lies and the fakeness in your tone when no one else could so why bother?

This time you were only pretending for your own amusement because Rafe was far too distracted by your interaction with Barry to really pay attention. You could see how much he regretted not forcing you to wait in the car.

It wasn’t even that bad. Barry whistled when you walked in behind Rafe, watching your hands tug down the edges of your little black dress as you entered his trailer.

“Where’d you find her and how do I get one?” Barry had said to him under his breath, although he had a hard time with volume control given that you heard clearly.

The comment set Rafe on edge. He was quick to exchange the money for drugs and hustle you out of the trailer and back into his truck, his hand on your shoulder guiding you the entire time.

“You don’t see why him saying some shit like that would bother me?” Rafe asked with a condescending tone to his voice, fully looking over at you as his truck rolled up to a red light.

Rafe wasn’t as complicated as you once thought he was. You learned his tells. The way he said it alone was enough, but the slight narrowness of his eyes told you he could go either way.

On one hand, you could push his buttons. It was easy for you to get the straight line of his mouth to turn to a frown and set him off. Sometimes it was amusing, watching him get angry. It was what you had done a couple days ago, but when he got angry he could get mean, and that led to the two day silent treatment. Tonight you were on your way to a party and that wasn’t the energy you were going for.

So there was the other hand, where you could reel him back in and get him to calm down before it was too late. Something like a sweet smile and an apology or a joke to lighten the mood would work on him.

You went with the latter given you had nothing to apologize for this time.

“Please, you’d trade me for five dollars if you really need the money,” you teased.

He hesitated for a second, like he was making up his mind. You gave him a little smile and watched Rafe’s shoulders untense. The light turned green and he faced forward again, but you could still see a similar expression appear on his face.

“Ten bucks at least, give me a little credit,” he threw back. “Twenty if I’m feeling sentimental.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “As if you ever feel sentimental.”

And just like that he was back to normal. You had the power to do that. It wasn’t a power just anyone had, controlling Rafe. Maybe “controlling” sounded a bit heavy-handed, but what else would you call it?

A few different people had told you that Rafe only seemed truly happy around you, and you figured that was true. Not many people could make him smile just because.

Conversation picked back up again, the two of you going back and forth until you were laughing like crazy. No one else had the privilege to see either of you like this, both you and Rafe grinning and rambling on.

You knew Rafe was in a better mood than before because he was speeding. He usually drove pretty fast, but it was always at a different level whenever he was really happy, or really pissed.

The hit of coke you each did at the next red light didn’t slow him down at all.

He had great speakers in his truck so blasting music was an elevated experience, and rolling the window down to let the wind whip through your hair only made it better.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe said in rapid succession, swatting at your thigh. You sat up with a start, not realizing you closed your eyes or that you had sunken into your seat. He pointed out the windshield at something up ahead, off to the side of the road. You doubted he’d noticed your brief zone-out. “You see that?”

You leaned forward and peered out the window, squinting to try and make out the figure clearly in the dark. “I think it’s a person,” you said. The closer you got, the more his headlights lit up the scene. “On a motorbike.”

“I think it’s JJ,” Rafe guessed. “He drives one of those, doesn’t he?”

You shrugged. You knew JJ—and his friends—but it wasn’t like you were friends. You only knew him because everyone in Kildare knew everyone. You didn’t concern yourself with Pogues the way Rafe did. While he would seek certain ones out to harass, you didn’t bother with anything to do with the Cut unless it directly affected you, which it hardly ever did.

That being said, when the person on the bike looked over his shoulder, it was clearly JJ. He wasn’t even wearing a helmet.

Your body was thrown as Rafe sharply jerked the wheel. Tires screeched against the pavement as the truck swerved up behind JJ as if Rafe were about to totally take him out. His truck was huge, it would be easy. Your gasp turned to a cackle as he yanked the wheel back the other way. You lunged across the truck and slammed your hand down on the horn, blaring it as Rafe let the truck swerve again.

Rafe let out a vicious laugh when JJ twisted the bike too fast in an attempt to avoid the truck and wiped out. In the side mirrors you saw he had veered into the grass. You guessed he’d skidded on the road first. You didn’t look back to see if he stood up, you were too busy watching Rafe with glee, a wicked smile plastered on your own face as he floored it down the street.

You’d been to Topper’s house on more than one occasion, and it was a party, so it wasn’t as if you were going to knock. You tugged at the skirt of your dress then barged inside, Rafe right at your back. Loud music, overlapping voices, and the smell of beer and weed filled your senses. Already energized, you moved through the crowded space with ease. You were in your element. People even parted to make way for you, but that could’ve been a perk of having Rafe looking like your bodyguard.

Rafe was here on business, not to get drunk and dance—your two favorite things about a party—but you didn’t mind sitting by his side on Topper’s couch as he offered a bump for free to draw people in and then negotiated a price for a line. The two of you usually snorted a quarter (sometimes half) of however much coke he bought, but the rest he used to try and make his money back.

Most people were uninteresting to you, but you liked to talk to them anyways. It reminded you how unimpressive everyone else your age was, which was an ego boost for sure—although, ego certainly wasn’t something you lacked to begin with.

Curiosity led you to get distracted sometimes. When you left Rafe’s side to get a drink from the kitchen you didn’t mean to be gone for long, but some guy with black hair in a crew cut and beer breath started challenging you to go against him in cup pong. You guessed he was someone’s relative or new in town because you didn’t recognize him. He boasted how he was the best—the current champion of the kitchen—and no one wanted to play against him anymore. He gave you this stupid cocky smile—not the kind of hot-but-aggravating cocky smile Rafe got when he was right about something—but the kind that made you want to ruin his life.

That would take too long, and it was energy you didn’t want to waste on him, so you played instead. You knew kicking his ass would be satisfying before you even took your first turn, and after, you got to confirm that it was. Ruining his winning streak would be enough.

Rafe taught you to play a few years ago and you only got better, but you weren’t going to thank him or anything. At this point you could probably beat him.

You left Crew Cut in the kitchen, defeated, and stumbled back to the living room. He got a few shots in so you had had a bit to drink, but you were still fully capable. Rafe would probably be annoyed at you for being gone so long, but you figured you could bat your lashes and apologize and he’d forgive you. And if not you’d blame it on Crew Cut for keeping you hostage playing cup pong and Rafe would get his knuckles bloody. Either way, you were sitting pretty.

Except, when you spotted him on the couch, you immediately saw that no, you weren’t. Spite flared in your gut at the sight of Rafe talking to some girl. She had stubby legs sticking out of a short white dress and brown hair that might’ve been pretty if it suited her. And if she brushed it properly. You wracked your memory to put a name to the face, and by the time you had stomped your way over to them, you remembered.

You forced a grin. “Hey, Bella.”

She looked up at you and gave you a smile that felt a little too sweet. “It’s Bethany,” she corrected. Eh, you were close enough. “And hey, Y/N. I didn’t know you were here.”

You wanted to glare at her, to figure out if that was some kind of insult, but you weren’t going to let her get to you that easy.

“Well, I am, and I was sitting there, so.” You shrugged, making the message so get up clear.

“Relax,” Rafe chimed in. Your eyes found him and you knew he could see past your mask. “You did get up.”

You tilted your head. There was a sourness to his voice that only you seemed to pick up on. You flicked your eyes to Bethany, who had this newly satisfied expression on her average face, then back to Rafe.

“Yeah, and it’s not like you own the couch, so,” Bethany commented, emboldened by what she assumed was Rafe backing her up. But no, it wasn’t that. He was upset, you could tell, and he was using her to bother you.

“I just went to the kitchen to get a drink,” you explained carefully.

“You were gone for a while.” Rafe's voice was too even, too controlled.

For someone who was just your best friend, Rafe was more possessive over you than any boyfriend you’d ever had. It went both ways. He was yours just as much as you were his, and apparently Bethany hadn’t gotten the memo.

“You move your feet, you lose your seat,” Bethany piped up with this obnoxious sing-song tone. “Sorry.”

You cringed at the phrase and this time let your disgust show. “What are you, four? Grow up.”

She scoffed and looked at Rafe, seeking some kind of defense, but when he finally took his eyes off you it wasn’t to look at her. His focus fell to something past you. His jaw clenched.

“Rafe,” Bethany barked at him, demanding attention. “Are you gonna let her talk to me like that?”

You almost laughed. Who did she think she was? Rafe’s priority list was short, but it was clear who was at the top and who wasn’t even on it.

“If you went to the kitchen for a drink then where is it?”

“I drank it,” you snarked.

Rafe made a noise that said he didn’t believe you. Warmth seeped into the skin on the back of your thigh just above your knee as Rafe’s hand made contact. His thumb rubbed back and forth, but neither of you acknowledged it. You got an inkling, though, and looked over your shoulder. Sure enough, you spotted Crew Cut. He was right in Rafe’s eyeline and yep, he smiled at you. What a moron.

Rafe must’ve seen the two of you playing cup pong. You were surprised by that. Not that he’d seen, but that he had gone back to sit down instead of making his presence known sooner. You looked back at Bethany, smirking with the knowledge that you’d been right all along. He thought he could make you jealous.

Bethany noticed his hand placement, but it wasn’t like Rafe was trying to hide it. She scoffed and stood, finally understanding her place.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Upright she wasn’t as short as you thought, but still shorter than you, even in her heels. “So are you,” she spat at you, squaring her shoulders as if she was making some grand stand against you. “You deserve each other.”

This time you did laugh. Right in her face. How could you not?

“Calm down, you Shih Tzu.” Bethany made a sound of offense. “Go whine at someone else’s feet,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand.

The suddenness of the impact almost knocked you back. She was tiny so it wasn’t like your head was spinning from the punch. It more so caught you off guard than anything else. You did have to give her a bit of credit for that. Your nose throbbed as you brought your head back forward.

Bethany’s face was scrunched up and tomato red. The sight amused you, even as blood began to trickle from your nostrils.

“I don’t know why anyone ever said you were nice,” she sneered. If she wasn’t such an annoying little bitch you might’ve been impressed. “You wanna say anything else?

That was true, you were the nice one. That’s what made you and Rafe such a fascinating duo to the people who either knew or knew of you.

Of course, their assumptions weren’t true, but they didn’t need to know that. You didn’t have a real reason to pretend, you just did. But sometimes you didn’t bother—certain people on special occasions got the chance to meet the real Y/N.

A million lines crossed your mind from snarky remarks to scathing insults. Oh yeah, you had plenty to say.

Instead you inhaled deeply, sucking the blood back through your nose. It trickled back down your throat and once it mixed with enough saliva you spat it right in Bethany’s face. Gross, yes, but effective.

Bethany screamed. That garnered an audience. The spitty, bloody mess dripped from her face down the front of her dress. Her white dress. You smiled, not caring that blood caked your teeth. You could taste it. Who wore a white dress to a party, anyway?

Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Rafe. He’d already let his hand fall from your body. The expression on his face was a mix between annoyance from before and current amusement.

Bethany lunged at you, hands out like she was going to try and scratch you or something. She didn’t get a chance because some other girl, who you assumed must’ve been a friend, came up behind her and pulled her back. Bethany made a noise of frustration as her friend dragged her away, but she let the other girl do it anyway.

“Hey! Are you okay?” A hand landed on your shoulder and you turned. Crew Cut had wide eyes, likely having witnessed the scene.

You became aware of all the people staring at you in that moment and internally sighed.

You sniffled and wiped your nose with the back of your hand, then flinched on purpose.

“Ow,” you whined. His hands rested on both of your arms as he encouraged you to look at him. “I think it’s broken,” you whimpered loud enough for surrounding people to hear. Sounds of pity filled in around you and people started to approach. Clearly they’d all only witnessed the second half of your interaction with Bethany, which really worked in your favor.

“That girl is crazy,” some girl nearby said. “You didn’t even do anything.”

“Do you need a doctor?” someone else asked.

Tears filled your eyes. “I think so,” you croaked out to no one in particular.

A hand latched onto your bicep and pulled you away from Crew Cut and the small crowd you’d acquired.

“I’ve got her,” Rafe said firmly as he held you at his side. People started to mutter. “Come on, you’ll be okay.”

The way he said it told you he knew exactly what you were doing. Rafe knew how much you liked being the center of attention.

It didn’t stop you from milking it while you could.

“It’s not okay,” you complained. “She hit me! You saw her, Rafe!”

He leaned down to your ear, his pace quickening. “I’m not gonna fall for your shit so drop it,” he hissed.

“I don’t know if I need to go to the hospital,” you said loudly, covering for him. You put an extra touch of gratefulness to your voice. “But if you think I need to then we’ll go.”

You sniffled again, gingerly touching your nose as you walked alongside him, absorbing all the worried and supportive comments you got on your way.

They were all so busy staring at you that you doubted they could see how pissed Rafe was. Mission accomplished. He had a hard time controlling his face. They probably didn’t notice the other injury you were sustaining, either, as Rafe dug his fingers into the flesh of your arm, gripping tight as he dragged you out the door.

Rafe slowed down once you were out of the house, but still held your arm. All the action was inside so he spoke freely.

“Is your nose actually broken?”

You shook your head confidently, dropping the act from inside. “Hurts a little but it’s fine. She didn’t hit that hard, weak arms I’m guessing. Plus I always got nose bleeds easily as a kid so it looks worse than it is.”

The ease in which you explained made Rafe shake his head. You wiped your teary eyes with the back of your hand to clear up your vision as Rafe led the both of you to his truck.

“Are those even real?” he questioned, but the snark in his voice said he already knew the answer.

“No.”

If he was in a good mood, Rafe would’ve been impressed. But, he was in a bad mood, so you were faced with annoyance and anger instead.

“You’re so screwed up.”

You scoffed. “Takes one to know one,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear. “Ow!” you shrieked as Rafe applied pressure, squeezing down on your arm. “Why are you so mad at me?”

“Why do you think you can lie to me?” he snapped back.

You yanked yourself free from his hold. You’d arrived at the truck without realizing. Likely the reason he let you separate yourself—you’d end up going with him anyway.

“I told you the truth, my nose is fine. Yeah, I was faking for attention, who the fuck cares?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “That bitch still hit me. I should get a restraining order.” Rafe rolled his eyes at the dramatic yet empty threat.

Okay, so you weren’t actually going to do that, but he could show a little sympathy, couldn’t he?

“Thanks for standing back and doing nothing, by the way,” you added when he didn’t reply right away.

That provoked a reaction you wanted. Rafe took a step forward. “I’m talking about you disappearing.” Oh, yeah. “You say you’re going to get a drink, then you’re gone forever and so like a good friend I go to find you. To make sure you're okay. And then what do I see?” Rafe’s voice continued to rise with each word. “You, hanging out with some asshole!”

“What about you?” you shot back. “I go back to you and some random girl is sitting in my spot, and then you act like you can’t be bothered to back me up when she goes psycho!”

“Are you pissed because she was in your spot or jealous because she was next to me?”

“Jealous? Me?” A scoff escaped you at the accusation. Was he insane? “You have a mental breakdown because I play one dumb drinking game with a guy I don’t even care enough to learn the name of but sure, Rafe, I’m the jealous one.”

“I’m not the one who was picking fights,” he reminded, stepping closer.

“Yeah, well, she was a bitch.”

Rafe was so close he could probably hear your heart skip a beat. “So are you.”

The slap of your hand against his cheek echoed through the night air.

Your mouth fell open a little, anger melting into shock. You’d never hit Rafe before, but he was getting in your face and being a dick and you just really had to urge to. It felt long overdue, honestly. Sure, you could argue just as ruthlessly as he could, but he’d only ever gotten physical with you, not the other way around. It was never hitting, never, ever hitting, but this wouldn’t be the first time he left bruises on your arm.

The second you met him on his level, he took it further.

The air was knocked from your lungs when your chest hit the passenger door of his truck. Rafe pressed himself against your back, keeping you trapped as he heaved into your ear, “Now what made you think that would be smart?”

“Only one of us is smart and it’s definitely not you.” The retort was instinctual. Your quick replies amused Rafe most of the time, but that wasn’t the case at the moment.

“You’re so mean tonight,” he said, voice like a warning. “First you abandon me, then you make a scene, and now you’re causing problems again. I sold the rest of the coke but I might have a bump left.” God, he could be so patronizing. It was even more irritating, which was exactly what he was going for when he added, “I think you need to lighten up.”

“Fuck you,” you growled out, squirming against his hold. This was unknown territory. “Stop being a dick and let me go. This isn’t funny.”

He kept you pinned with his body, it didn’t matter that you tried to push yourself back with your palms against the car, he was solid. When his hands rose to pin each of your wrists to the window you were left completely at his mercy.

Rafe leaned down a little, his lips by your ear. Your whole body shuddered at the tickle of his breath as he whispered, “I’m not trying to be funny.” Your teeth clenched. “Are you going to behave yourself so we can go or do I need to wait? I’ve got all night.”

There was a shakiness that tangled itself into his last few words. You opened your mouth to speak but hesitated when Rafe adjusted his stance.

You didn’t let him see the smirk that crossed your face. He was aroused, you could feel him pressing against you. You wanted to say something so bad because it was obvious it was for you. Something witty, something mean, something flirty—just something. But instead you closed your mouth and let your body do the talking.

You rocked your hips back slightly. Enough to let him know you felt it, but not enough to create friction. Rafe reacted how you thought he might. His hands around your wrists tightened as he nudged himself closer to you. He let out a grunt as his cock pressed more against your ass.

Your entire demeanor shifted the second you understood you had the upper hand.

“Rafe,” you said, making your voice sound all breathless. You paired the gasp of his name with rolling your hips back shamelessly.

Rafe grunted in your ear. His hips shoved forward, almost out of his control. Heat flooded your body at the feel of him. The only barrier was your clothes and those could be easily removed.

You rolled your hips again with a giggle.

“You think you’re funny?” he growled into your ear.

You nearly choked on your own tongue. You’d always found Rafe attractive but this whole scenario just put it on another level. You pressed your thighs together to control yourself, but a shaky breath managed to escape. You were having a hard time deciphering what was authentic and what was just for fun.

One of his hands released your wrist in favor of resting around your neck. Not quite squeezing, just holding. The pressure was just enough to let you know it was there and now you were really losing your grip on this whole thing. You shivered against him, your body going rogue. So much for being in control.

Rafe leaned in even closer, his lips pressed right next to your ear as he warned, “if you don’t stop that I’m gonna have to fuck you right here.”

You swallowed hard. No words came to mind.

You and Rafe had never crossed the line in all your years of friendship, which surprised a lot of people. Sometimes you wondered about it, like now. How could you not? He was hot and so were you, and you spent nearly all your time together. Rafe understood you even when it came back to bite you. There was something about him not just toeing the line but stepping fully over it with those words that thrilled you.

You could give in. You wanted to give in because honestly the fact that you never even kissed him, let alone fucked him, was confusing to you now. It would only add another layer to the messy thing you called your friendship, but it didn’t seem like a bad idea. Not with his hand on your neck and his lips at your ear and his cock throbbing against you.

A wicked idea appeared in your head. One fueled by pettiness and your desire for control that you’d forgotten for a moment, but not forever.

Rafe had you caged but not fully trapped. You’d stopped fighting against him, so it wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been to twist your way free from his hold.

“Then let’s go,” you said, not facing him because you’d definitely break if you did.

You yanked open the passenger door and climbed into the truck. Once it shut you looked out the window and found him staring back. Confused, frustrated, and stunned. You smirked to yourself.

Rafe got it together and crossed to the driver's side. He got in without a word. His jaw was clenched too tight. His hand fell to his lap, not even hiding the fact that he was adjusting himself before starting up the truck.

The drive was so quiet it made you want to laugh. Rafe kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye, like he wasn’t sure whether to keep ignoring you or pounce on you. That was just the way you wanted it for now. Now that you knew you were something he wanted, you couldn’t make things easy for him.

You were pretty proud of yourself, honestly. Knowing you’d worked him up like this. It was his turn to suffer a little. Serves him right for earlier. You did get punched after all and he didn’t defend you the way he should’ve.

When he stopped in front of your house all you got was a sharp, “Goodnight.”

“Dream about me,” you said before you slid out and shut the truck door.

Even though you had to ice your nose, you went to bed with a smile on your face that night. Rafe probably went home and took matters into his own hands, pun intended, and you’d bet anything you were on his mind while he did.

You saw him the very next day at the country club. You caught a ride with Topper for the simple reason you knew it would get under Rafe’s skin that you didn’t ask him by default like usual.

Of course you were right. He had a certain intensity to him when he arrived at your usual table and found you and Topper too wrapped up in conversation to notice him. You did notice him, though. You just didn’t show it.

“Hey, man,” Topper greeted him finally, still chuckling from something you had said. You turned your head to acknowledge Rafe but didn’t say a word.

Usually, Rafe would sit across from you. It just made the most sense since the two of you would often get caught up in your own conversations. Topper had even opted for a seat next to the one right across from you because of this.

Instead of taking his usual spot, Rafe dragged out the chair right beside you and sat down. He didn’t acknowledge you either. Topper’s eyes flicked between the two of you, sensing something but not willing to comment on it aloud.

So, he was still pissed about yesterday. Not that it surprised you or anything. Just a very obvious observation.

Soon enough Kelce showed and it made it easier to not comment on what was going on between you and Rafe.

“How’s your nose?” Kelce asked. He ended up across from you since Rafe left that seat open.

You pressed your fingers gingerly to the bridge. “It’s a little sore but I’m okay.”

“Why’d she even hit you?” Kelce wondered.

“Y/N didn’t do anything,” Topper jumped in to defend you. Kelce didn’t necessarily have an accusing tone to his voice, but the question was enough to garner backup. “That chick was crazy.”

You fought to keep the smugness out of your smile. Most boys were easy—like Topper. When he picked you up and asked how you were feeling, you sniffled and told him you didn’t understand what happened. He told you it wasn’t your fault. Even though he’d been nowhere nearby when it happened, he sure sounded confident.

Kelce chuckled a bit. “I heard you spit blood in her face. That’s pretty wicked, Y/N. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

These two were more Rafe’s friends than your own, but you still saw them a decent amount. Enough that you had infiltrated their little trio—but you weren’t ’one of the guys’. You found girls who went out of their way to act like that annoying. You got along fine with each of them, but they weren’t the type of friends you’d hang out with without Rafe around.

Speaking of Rafe, he’d been pretty quiet since he arrived. It was the kind of quiet he got when he was agitated, but hadn’t quite reached that tipping point for today.

Just when you thought he’d be some kind of mute the rest of lunch, he made a sort of scoffing noise after Kelce’s comment.

“Well, then you don’t know her,” Rafe replied over the brim of his glass before taking a drink.

You shot him a glare. God, he was petty.

You looked at Topper and Kelce and forced a giggle. A really girly one for extra measure.

“Someone’s grumpy today,” you said in a loud whisper. The two guys smirked to themselves when you dramatically turned to Rafe. “What’s wrong? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” You faked a pout when you really wanted to grin. “Any weird dreams?”

Rafe faced you. He remembered your comment. One of your favorite pastimes was screwing with him just because you could.

“I slept just fine,” Rafe answered smoothly. He tilted his head a little. You narrowed your eyes. There was a look of mischief in his. “What about you?”

You nearly jumped when his hand landed on your bare thigh. The seats at the table were close enough he didn’t have to noticeably shift to make contact. Rafe raised his brows, letting his fingers kneed into your supple skin. Maybe you should’ve worn pants.

You bit your lip before turning it to a smile. “Same here.”

“Nothing keeping you up at night?” Rafe wondered less than innocently.

You shook your head. “Nope.”

He hummed. His hand slid further up your leg. “Nothing worth thinking about?”

So badly you wanted to say something snarky like, “just because you went home and got off to the thought of me doesn’t mean I returned the favor,” but that seemed like a bit much with Topper and Kelce right across the table. They didn’t get to know how clever you could be.

Speaking of the other boys, you had almost forgotten about them during your stare-down with Rafe.

“Are you guys going to the kegger at the Boneyard tonight?” Topper wondered, breaking the tension you and Rafe had created.

Rafe looked away first. “It’s gonna be overrun with Pogues,” he dismissed.

Just because of that you said, “I’m going.” Rafe threw you a glance. “What? The Boneyard is like… middle ground. There’s peace and there’s free alcohol.”

The second part was true, but the first? It depended on the night and what drama was currently going on. Some nights everyone just hung out and got drunk and had fun, and other nights there were fights that broke out. It was really just a toss of the coin.

“If you don’t go I won’t have a ride,” you told Rafe, but before he could open his mouth, you cheerfully turned to Topper. “If you’re going do you think you could give me a ride? This morning was fun, we could keep the karoke going.”

Topper blushed a little while you beamed at him. You’d gotten him to sing along to some pop songs that played on the radio—not exactly ‘karaoke’ but it had the intended effect.

No sooner than you asked was Rafe saying, “I’m going.” There was a bite to his tone that had Topper looking a little lost. Rafe’s fingertips pressed into your skin. “I didn’t say I wasn’t. I’ll give you a ride, it’s no problem.”

It was a problem, that was the point.

“Hello, gentlemen!” A waitress appeared with a big smile and too much pep in her step. You gave her a look that had her swallowing. “And lady. What can I get for you all?”

Rafe flashed her that stupid charming smile of his. The one he gave when he wanted something.

You wanted to gag when he started flirting with her, but you kept it in. It was embarrassing, honestly, for him. You wanted to smack him and tell him to stop making a fool of himself, and then you wanted to do the same to the waitress when she let out a snorty little laugh. Whatever he said wasn’t that funny, and laughing wasn’t going to get her a bigger tip.

While he was flirting and you were seething, Rafe’s hand stayed on your thigh. He rubbed little circles with his thumb and it told you where his mind really was.

When the waitress disappeared, you unclenched your jaw, which you hadn’t realized you’d done, but you didn’t speak right away. Rafe started a conversation with the guys and all you did for now was listen.

Rafe slid his hand further up, talking to them as if his fingers weren’t creeping towards your center. A thrill shot through you at the idea because all this with Rafe was new territory. The warmth in your face and your core told you to let him continue just to see what would happen—then your ego, your desire to win, took over.

You crossed your legs, trapping his hand. Sure, he couldn’t pull it away, but he also couldn’t move it closer. You chewed the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when Rafe’s voice faltered while talking.

“You good?” you asked casually, as if you’d been up to nothing but listening.

Rafe recovered quickly. He flexed his hand a little and you squeezed it between your thighs. If he really wanted to he could probably yank himself free, but he didn’t try. He also couldn’t get any closer towards his goal. He let you have your minor win, which in all honesty it wasn’t that much of a loss to him so he could live with it, but at least you had some bit of control again.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked. You shrugged, and then he went on talking again.

When the waitress returned he hardly acknowledged her, which she looked a little miffed by, but he couldn't be bothered to care about her.

This was more of a draw when it came down to it, but you could live with that—for now.

You wore your lucky pink bikini with a pair of jeans shorts over it for the kegger.

True to his word Rafe picked you up and the two of you rode together to the Boneyard. Conversation was light, both of you playing defense, not wanting to show your hand. For as much as he was eyeing you he didn’t make a move. The topics were unimportant, so much so you had already forgotten what you’d said by the time you got to the beach.

As you walked towards the shore with Rafe at your side, you admitted to yourself you didn’t exactly have a game plan. You were determined to win this little feud, but how to do that? You didn’t have that worked out. You were still bitter about the fact he hadn’t defended you, and now the whole thing with the waitress was sitting on top of that. You had to get him back and get him good—something that would make him never forget who had the power between the two of you.

And if it scared him enough to make him never flirt with another girl again? Well, you wouldn’t be opposed to hearing him out if he had any ideas for alternatives.

You could see yourself being with Rafe. You really could. Not the way that most girls could, not just because he was handsome, and rich, and charming if he put in the effort. All those things were definitely a plus, but they didn’t understand him the way you did, and he’d never bother to understand them the way he understood you.

Even if your whole night was dedicated to winning against him, when it came down to it, you were equals. That’s what made him such a challenge, and the challenge is what made him so exciting. It was why you could drive each other to the brink of insanity one night and then hang out and laugh together the next.

The thought of a truce entered your mind. Rafe’s arm kept brushing against yours as the two of you joined the party. He looked good in the shirt he’d picked out, and you noticed he was wearing the cologne you liked. He’d been at your house right on time and had gotten out to open the passenger side door for you.

“Rafe?” you said, but evidently not loud enough.

Before you could continue he said, “I’ll be back,” and disappeared off towards the keg without a further word. Not even a glance back.

You shut your mouth and frowned. Would he even be back? You let out a huff.

It didn’t matter, you weren’t going to stand around waiting for him. You couldn’t let him think that was something he could just do. Make you wait around for him. What a dick. You felt like an idiot for even letting the word ‘truce’ enter your mind.

You looked around a little aimlessly. You weren’t about to go join Rafe and your other friends—you weren’t some follower. Your eyes wandered the scattered crowds until they landed on someone that brought a grin to your face.

Go big or go home.

He was standing practically by himself at the least populated keg. You smiled to yourself as you watched the blond fill his red solo cup with beer, chug it, then immediately refill it without so much as setting down the hose.

“Hey,” you said once you’d reached speaking distance. “Don’t you usually have a group of friends you hang with? They didn’t abandon you, did they?”

JJ looked a little surprised at your presence, but when your words registered he chuckled.

“If you wanna get technical then I abandoned them,” he replied coolly.

He nodded his head towards the water and sure enough, John B and Pope were standing in a group talking. No sign of your sort of ex friend, Kiara. You weren’t besties with her the way she and Sarah had been, but you also didn’t turn around and hate on her the way Sarah had. Things had always been a little off with you and the oldest Cameron girl ever since you and Rafe became the duo that you were, so her opinion wasn’t all that defining to you the way it was to others, so Kie wasn’t so bad in your books, but you weren’t still hanging with her either. You hardly thought of her at all to tell the truth.

“What about you?” JJ raised a brow.

“All alone tonight I guess.” You sighed. JJ didn’t say anything for a moment, regarding you. You cast your eyes down to his leg and gasped. “That looks awful! Are you okay?”

There was a huge scrape on his knee with some bruising around it. You knew exactly what, well who had caused it.

JJ didn’t need to know you were in the passenger seat, or that you hadn’t given him a second thought until now.

You looked at his right arm. Gently you reached out to grab it, avoiding the freshly damaged skin. He looked taken aback, likely not expecting the softness or concern from you.

“JJ…” you continued sympathetically, tenderly brushing over the area next to the injury. “What happened?”

His cup crinkled in his fist as his body tensed. He pulled his arm from your grasp and you frowned at him. He took a sip from his drink, watching you over the rim of his cup.

He lowered it after a long drink. “Got ran off the road by that asshole you hang out with,” he finally replied, casting his eyes away.

You shook your head shamefully. “Rafe is an asshole,” you said. There was nothing disingenuous about those words at least.

JJ wasn’t sure whether to frown or laugh.

“Have you and I ever had a full conversation before?”

You smiled at the way he vocalized the first thought that came to his brain. You shook your head.

“Not a full one I don’t think. Definitely not one on one.” You paused. “We could change that, though.”

JJ’s demeanor shifted, relaxing a bit. As if it were some kind of test, he refilled his solo cup to the brim, then extended it out to you.

You weren’t one to fail a test. You accepted it with a smile and took a gulp. JJ was grinning by the time you finished with a noise of satisfaction.

“Alright, maybe I didn’t have you figured out after all,” JJ decided, raising his hands in a little surrender like you’d caught him.

“Guess not,” you agreed.

You found yourself sitting across from him right in the sand. It hadn’t bothered him so you didn’t let it seem like it bothered you. It was easier said than done with the little grains digging in and you knew they’d be stuck to you all night, but you weren’t going to start seeming like the kind of girl who complained.

JJ was fun and carefree, so you were fun and carefree. You tapped into that side of yourself and amplified it. You tried to keep some reality in whatever performance you were putting on.

“You shouldn’t itch that,” you warned. JJ had scratched at the scab on his forearm yet again. “It’ll scar worse if you irritate it.”

“I know how scars work, thanks, doc.” It was sarcastic but it wasn’t mean, which threw you off. “It’s just annoying.” He extended his leg and looked down at it. “And definitely fucked for a few weeks. Looks worse than it is, though.”

“It’s not so bad,” you offered. “And if you don’t scratch I’m sure it’ll heal just fine.” A playful smirk wandered onto your lips. “But I think it makes you look kinda tough, y’know?”

“Tough, huh?”

“I mean, not that you need it or anything.” The shy laugh that left you sounded so natural. God, you were good. “Sorry, that was weird. I just—it’ll heal, but until it does, don't worry about how it looks, is what I’m trying to say.”

“I wasn’t, but thanks.” JJ was smiling, clearly relishing in his perceived victory of managing to fluster you in so few words. “I don’t get how a sweet girl like you can hang out with a guy like Rafe.”

If only he knew.

You swallowed and shrugged. You turned your eyes down. “I don’t know either, sometimes.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” JJ said. He moved then. You heard him. By the time you looked up, the blond was sitting by your side. He gave you a lopsided smile. “That’s nothing against you, it’s just…”

“Rafe’s an asshole?” you supplied. “We already established that, remember?” You let your voice waver just enough that JJ felt a little guilty, but also have enough humor that he knew he could fix it.

“You’re a great girl, and I’m guessing you know how I feel about Kooks. So I’m I’m not saying that lightly, alright?” JJ began playfully. You met his eyes and smiled softly. “Why do you put up with him?”

He wanted to save you. How funny.

“I… I don’t want to talk about Rafe. I wanna keep talking about you. What have you been up to this summer?”

That got him talking again. It was easier that way. You could just react; smile, nod along, make little noises or mutter a few words.

He was in the middle of yet another surfing story from the other week when you put your head on his shoulder. JJ didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around you.

If Rafe could see you now.

It’s not that you cared where he was, or what he was doing, or who he was doing it with, but you knew he’d care what you were up to. He’d care when he found out only after the fact where you were directing your night with JJ, one of the good for nothing Pogues that he loathed.

What would he say when he found out you invited JJ Maybank into your bed when all he got was a hand on your thigh for a few minutes under a table? That would show him.

Actually, more than that, it would drive him crazy. Letting you know he wanted you, and then continuing to play games was probably the stupidest thing Rafe Cameron could’ve ever done. If it was a game you were going to win.

Who cared if it sent him over the edge? You sure didn’t.

A gust of ocean air came at the right time. You shivered dramatically and JJ frowned at you, pausing mid sentence to ask if you had a jacket. He didn’t have one to offer. That worked out just fine for you because you had an offer of your own. One you were certain he wasn’t going to turn down.

“Actually, would you mind giving me a ride back to my place? My friend kind of ditched me,” you asked politely. JJ, ever the gentleman, masked his disappointment and agreed. He got to his feet and offered a hand. “And if you want, you could stay and, I don’t know, hang out…”

JJ brows rose. “Hang out?” he parroted back to you.

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah. Hang out.” You brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. A grin spread across his face. “That cool with you?”

“Lead the way,” he encouraged, energy quickly returning.

You reached for his hand and he let you take it.

“You’re driving, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll lead the way.”

You laughed with him, giving his hand a little squeeze.

To be fair, JJ was very attractive. And he was not so bad to talk to. He didn’t even give you shit for being a Kook, which you had expected he would. He’d only commented on your friendship with Rafe but you’d played into that well. You’d enjoyed yourself with him. On another occasion if he had approached you, you’d probably indulge him at least for a while. Maybe even sleep with him like you were planning to now. You’d heard the rumors about him and so you were pretty confident you’d have fun.

Although, the real fun would start after, when you got to throw it in Rafe’s face and watch him lose it.

There was only one problem with your plan. Rafe spotted you before you could leave.

“Y/N!” Rafe called. You turned and so did JJ. JJ clutched your hand tighter as Rafe approached. If looks could kill, you and JJ would both be dead. You smirked to yourself. You couldn’t help it. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Back off, Rafe.” JJ was surprised but he still managed to sound threatening. He probably didn’t think Rafe was even here since you’d failed to mention it. “You don’t own her.”

Poor, sweet, dumb, JJ.

Any other disagreement, any other issue, Rafe might’ve gone along with the back and forth for a minute. Not when it came to you.

JJ had no time to dodge before Rafe was slamming his fist into his face. You grit your teeth. Your nose twitched. Now that was a real punch. Rafe quickly followed up with another right to JJ’s stomach.

JJ fell to the ground with a grunt. You managed to drop his hand just in time. Rafe was on top of JJ in an instant, pummeling him. It was dark, but you could smell blood mixing with the scent of the sea. The sound of Rafe’s fists cracked against JJ’s face told you there’d be bruises.

JJ managed to get out from beneath him, but Rafe wasn’t about to back off. It became an all out brawl. Over you, of all things. Wasn’t that romantic? You giggled to yourself when you had to step back because JJ threw Rafe off of him. You watched with shallow, excited breaths when Rafe got back to his feet and charged.

“Hey!” someone screamed from a distance. You didn’t recognize the voice, but when you turned your head, you saw a group of partygoers approaching. “Knock it off!”

You rolled your eyes. You cleared your throat. The group was getting closer so you let loose.

“Guys! Stop it, please!” you shrieked, as if you had been begging this entire time. “Stop!”

A hand landed on your shoulder.

“Stand back, Y/N,” Topper said, blocking you with his body.

“They won’t stop,” you cried pathetically. “Someone is going to get seriously hurt!”

Topper registered your concern and then took it upon himself to intervene. John B joined him. He’d come out of nowhere. The group that had gathered around the fight had grown within seconds. Some were yelling at them to quit while others clapped and shouted encouragement.

John B pried JJ away and Topper got ahold of Rafe. JJ tried to run back at Rafe but then Pope got in front of him. You didn’t hear what he said to the blond but JJ backed down. He looked at you, still restrained by his friends after fighting for your honor. You spotted a black eye forming and a busted lip. It was pretty hot.

“Rafe, man—“

“Get your hands off me,” Rafe snapped at Topper like something feral. He got your attention without even asking. You met his gaze and he looked… well, crazy. You don’t think that would come until later. “Y/N,” he muttered your name as he approached you. “We’re leaving.”

Rafe didn’t wait for you to respond. His hand snapped out, gripping your bicep and dragging you along behind him.

You nearly stumbled over your feet from the force. Behind you there were protests, and Topper even began to follow, so you had no choice.

“It’s fine,” you called back to him. “I’m going with him.” You were sure JJ heard and for the first time in a long, long while you felt a small twinge of guilt.

It didn’t last long when Rafe shoved you against the side of his truck. He ripped open the passenger side door. The wild look in his eyes almost scared you. Almost.

“Get in.”

You obeyed. He hardly left you time to scramble in before he was slamming the door shut behind you. You watched Rafe as if he were some kind of predator, analyzing his movements as he stalked to the driver’s side and climbed in next to you.

You weren’t going to be the first one to speak. Rafe was speeding like there was no such thing as a limit. The only move you made was to buckle your seatbelt. It took a long few minutes before Rafe finally spoke.

“I told you I’d be back,” he finally grit out.

“You didn’t notice I was gone until I was leaving,” you shot back.

Rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“I was looking for you.”

“Bullshit,” you snapped. “You didn’t give a damn where I was until I was leaving with JJ—“

Rafe slammed on the break. Your whole body jolted. The seat belt tightened against you and your head hit the head rest. Before you could scream at him your vision cleared and you realized you were in front of your house.

“Don’t say his name.” The way Rafe said it made him seem dangerous.

You looked at him, eyes wide, gauging what to do next. This was the most terrified you had ever been of him, and yet…

“Your cheek is cut,” you pointed out, voice as steady as you could make it. JJ wore rings. You bet it hurt. “Come in and let me clean it.”

You didn’t leave room for debate. You and Rafe watched one another with caution, regarding the other as a threat.

In a way you were both right.

You got out of the truck first. You made it to your door, knowing Rafe was right behind you.

You went through the motions almost robotically as you took him into the bathroom. You turned on the light and made him sit on the edge of the tub. The first aid kit was in the cabinet and you found everything you needed right inside.

For knowing you had caused all of this, you weren’t exactly sure what to do now. Which was odd, because you always seemed to figure out the next step one way or another, but right now, cleaning Rafe’s cheek with an alcohol wipe, watching his jaw tense with the stinging pain, you were unsure how to proceed.

What do you do when you get your way, or at least you think you got your way, but not in the way you had planned?

Rafe swatted your hand away when you tried to open a bandaid.

“Don’t put that thing on me, it’s fine,” Rafe protested. He placed his hands on your hips. You thought he was going to push you back, but he just sort of held you in place.

“Don’t be a baby.”

Rafe ignored you. He dropped his forehead to your stomach. It was almost as if you were an altar for him to worship at. You ran a hand through his hair, finding the sight to be nothing short of beautiful. You couldn’t help yourself.

He muttered something that sounded like, “Why do you do this to me?” You didn’t answer. He took a breath. “Were you gonna fuck him?” Rafe asked. You were sure of his words this time.

You could lie, you thought, but then decided against it. There was no point now.

Rafe tilted his head up, blue eyes searching yours. There was a sense of longing in them that you noticed every once in a while. That sad little need for approval that he couldn’t get rid of.

“Yeah, probably,” you admitted.

Fire ignited in his eyes.

Just as quickly as he became weak to you, Rafe snapped out of it. He was on his feet in seconds. He towered over you, backing you up with each step until you hit the edge of your counter.

Rafe looked down his nose at you. “Were you gonna fuck him?” he asked again, as if intimidation would change your answer.

You stared up at him, defiant. “Yeah,” you repeated, hopping up to sit on the counter. “Probably.”

Rafe’s bruised hand reached up to cup your face. He watched his thumb as it ran over your lips. When it rested on your bottom lip you opened your mouth. Rafe was transfixed as he slid the digit in. Your mouth enveloped him, swirling your tongue around his thumb. You swore you could taste a little blood.

Rafe made a noise of satisfaction and quickly removed it, covering your lips with his own, filling your mouth with his tongue instead. You moaned into the kiss. It was harsh and hungry. Everything that had been building up over the past day, hell, past years, was finally spilling out. The dam had finally broken. There was no turning back.

“You make me crazy,” he grunted against your lips when he came up for air. You panted, words failing to form as his hand slid between your bodies. “And I know I make you crazy.” His fingers slipped into your shorts and bikini bottom, which you hadn’t even gotten to show off. You hadn’t needed to. You gasped as he pressed a finger into your core. He grinned at the wetness that had already formed. “I know it ‘cause I know you.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your ear.

“Rafe,” you whispered his name, bucking against his hand. He rewarded you with pushing another finger in and thrusting them both with precision.

“I’m the only one that knows you,” he hissed. You shivered as his breath hit your ear, noting the anger. But there was something else to it. “I’m the only one who gets to have you.”

Desperation.

Rafe was desperate for you. For you to understand, for you to agree, for you to feel the same. Desperate for you to want him the way he wanted you.

“Tell me you weren’t,” he pleaded, voice shaking with the rage he was trying to contain.

He wanted you to lie.

“I wasn’t.” Rafe hummed and pressed an approving kiss to your neck. He twisted his fingers inside you, forcing a moan past your lips. His teeth sank into the skin of your neck, sucking and biting as you managed to gasp out, “I wasn’t, I swear.”

Rafe pulled his fingers from you and you whined at the loss. He made up for it by kissing his way back to your lips, swallowing your sounds. He popped the button off your shorts and tucked his hands into the waistband. You lifted yourself long enough for him to yank down your shorts, leaving you bare.

You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and kissed him harder when his hands gripped your waist and pulled you to the edge of the counter. Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, drawing an animalistic sound from him.

“Tell me you want me,” Rafe managed.

You pulled back, eyes flicking from his swollen lips to his hungry eyes. The corner of your lip quirked up a little.

“I thought it was obvious,” you mused, reaching between your bodies.

“I’m gonna fuck you either way, so you might as well just tell me.” There was a devious glint in Rafe’s eyes that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

You pulled your lip between your teeth and you undid his belt. You reached into his pants and found his cock hard and waiting for your touch. Rafe’s hands tightened on your thighs. “I want you, Rafe,” you said exactly what he wanted to hear, voice heavy with lust, every word the truth.

Rafe surged forward, capturing your lips. He shoved his pants down as you stroked him, but he had plans of his own. Rafe pushed himself closer to you, spreading your legs apart with his hips, and gripped his cock. The head pressed at your entrance and you nearly choked when he thrust in with no further warning.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you cursed. Your hands found his back, holding on as he invaded your body.

Thick and long, his cock split you open. Rafe grunted, mouth moving over you in a frenzy, kissing wherever he could reach in that second. Your top came off somewhere in the haze and you moaned as his mouth latched onto your breast. Your legs wrapped around his waist as your cunt squeezed him. Rafe’s hands found your waist again, holding you in place as he began to move.

He gave you little time to adjust but you would’ve gone crazy if he waited any longer. Rafe pulled back, letting you feel the thick drag of his cock leaving you, before he thrust in again. And again. And again. All you could do was hold on as he slammed into you, letting everything that had built up go. You welcomed it. All his anger and lust and frustration and love and just everything. Everything said and unsaid between the two of you was finally getting a resolution.

Rafe’s mouth found its way back to your neck, licking and sucking and biting your flesh. He was marking it, marking you, for the world to see. So when they saw the purple marks decorating your neck, everyone would know you belonged to him. But didn’t they know already? To some degree?

It didn’t matter to Rafe. He was making it clear. There was no room for doubt now.

Rafe fucked you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. Your moans filled the room, your curses and his grunts of your name, the sound of skin against skin, the smell of sex—all of it flooded your senses in the most thrilling way. You wanted nothing more than Rafe and nothing less than everything he was giving you.

The pleasure he inflicted was like nothing you had ever experienced and you knew in that moment nothing and no one would ever compare to the high you felt with him.

He pounded into you hard, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. Your thighs clenched around his waist, your legs holding him against you. Rafe filled you entirely, drawing out every animalistic need you had.

“Fuck,” he cursed, lifting his head. You moaned at just the sound of his voice. “You’re so tight. Like you’re made for me.”

Your cunt clenched around him, eyes fluttering shut as your slick walls squeezed him. Your body tensed and your breaths grew even more ragged as he pushed you closer and closer towards your edge.

“Rafe, don’t stop,” you gasped out.

His hand found your throat. Your eyes snapped open as he gave it a squeeze. He forced you to meet his gaze. You nearly fell apart just from that.

“It’s always been me, hasn’t it?” he asked, wanting an answer. You nodded because yes, yes it has. “It’s always going to be only you and only me. Only me.” You nodded again, lips only parting to let out a moan when he gave a sharp thrust. “Tell me.”

“You, Rafe,” you fumbled out. “It’s always been you—it's only you,” you said in almost a plea. “I want us.”

That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Rafe gave a sound of approval and a light squeeze of your neck. His thrusts stayed sharp and precise and soon enough you were falling apart in his hold.

His cock shoving into you, his hand on your neck, the look on his face—you were consumed by Rafe and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You let out a cry of his name when your orgasm hit. It crashed over you in a wave, rocking your entire body. Your legs and cunt both tightened, holding him impossibly close inside you. Rafe’s lips devoured yours, smothering your moans and whimpers as you shook against him.

Rafe gave a few more rough, constricted thrusts before a deep groan escaped his lips. His hips stilled and warmth flooded your insides. He shivered against you when you slid your hands beneath his shirt and dragged your nails along his back.

His hand finally left the front of your neck, but it didn’t go far as he slid his palm to cup the back of it. Rafe pressed his forehead to yours, both of you catching your breath.

You took one hand and reached for him, running your fingers over the cut on his cheek.

“I still think you should put a bandaid on it,” you managed, voice weak.

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled away. And just like that you two were all good again.

“I think I’ll pass.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “You’re so stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one. Took you this long to admit you wanted me.”

You gawked at that. “I admitted I wanted you? Seems like it was the other way around. In fact—“

But before you could finish, Rafe silenced you with a deep kiss. His cock twitched inside of you and you couldn’t help but giggle against his lips.

Rafe was only kissing you to shut you up because you were right, and he knew it too. You were always right and Rafe was going to have to learn to accept that one way or another.

[qqueenofhades]

I understand how important it is to be able to criticize the President, and am not at all of the belief he should be beyond critique, but the critiquing of Biden makes me so nervous. (That's not to say I agree with every decision he's made - I absolutely do not). But I feel like people see things he's done wrong and decide they won't vote for him because of it. I'm not sure if enough people have the ability to see that he's done things wrong but also is our only hope of staving off literal fascism.

So many people talk about how sick they are of it constantly being a lesser of two evils situation, constantly having to vote for a candidate they hate because the other side is worse (I heard it in 2020, 2022, etc), and I guess I just- I don't really get it? We're here because they didn't do that in 2016. All of this could've been avoided had the result been different then. I just feel like people don't comprehend how different of a place we'd be in if Hillary won and engage in all this cognitive dissonance to make themselves feel better about being part of the reason she didn't.

Like.... this has been a long-running topic of discussion on my blog, not least because it is so inexplicable and maddening. It also shows how terribly shallow most people's understanding of the American political process is, and how toxic the "I can only vote for a candidate if every single personal belief/position of theirs matches mine" belief is, as well as how much damage it has done to American democracy even (and indeed, especially) by people who technically don't identify as right-wing. Yell at Republicans all you like (God knows I do, because they're the worst people on earth) but they vote. Every time. Every election. Every candidate. Whereas the Democratic electorate still holds out for Mister Perfect, and it very definitely is Mister Perfect. The amount of "evil HRC!!!" Republican-poisoned Kool-Aid that so-called progressives drank in 2016, and then afterward when they insisted they could have voted for someone like Elizabeth Warren and then didn't do that in 2020, is... baffing.

Frankly, I don't care if Hillary Clinton's personal positions on XYZ issue were the most Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Shill to Ever Shill (and Online Leftists' intellectual skills being what they are, I seriously doubt that they were using any of those words correctly and/or accurately). American policy is not made by "personal dictate of the ruler," or at least it shouldn't be, because we are not an absolute monarchy. We rely on the operation of a system with input from many people. As such, if Hillary had been elected, we would have 2-3 new liberal justices on SCOTUS and have secured civil and environmental rights for the next generation. Roe would be intact, and all the other terrible rulings that SCOTUS has recently handed down wouldn't have happened. We wouldn't have had January 6th, the attempt to stage a coup, all the tawdry scandals, our national security being at risk because of Trump stealing classified documents and probably selling them to Russia and/or Saudi Arabia, etc etc. If you think that's in any way an equivalent amount of evil to what would have happened if Hillary was elected, or if she was "still evil!!!," then I honestly don't know what to tell you. She could fucking murder puppies in her spare time if she had preserved SCOTUS for us, WHICH SHE WOULD HAVE, BECAUSE SHE WARNED US EXACTLY WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

(Hoo. Sorry. Still steamed. 2016 war flashbacks, again.)

In short, Hillary would have been a solid continuity Democrat and she would have signed whatever legislation a Democratic House and Senate passed, not to mention been hugely inspiring as the first female president. But because it's so important to the Online Leftists' moral sense of themselves that BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME!!!, they can't possibly acknowledge that ever being a factor, and/or admit that they have any culpability in not voting for her in 2016. It's like when you read the British press about any of the UK's equally numerous problems, and they BEND OVER BACKWARD to avoid mentioning that Brexit might be a factor. They just can't mention it, because then that means they might have made the wrong choice in pulling for it as hard as they did, and blah blah Sovereignty.

Basically, if HRC had been elected president, everything would be so much less terrible and terrifying all the time, we would be talking about her successor in 2024 as someone else who could be the "first," we could explore handing the reins over to Kamala as a Black/Asian woman, we could promote Buttigieg as the first gay president, etc etc. But because 2016 was so catastrophically fucked up, we are in damage control mode for the immediate future and every election is just as pivotal. And yet, because people think that the only thing that matters is a presidential candidate's personal views, we're stuck having the same old arguments and desperately begging people over and over to please vote against fascism, since that somehow isn't self-evident enough on its own. Yikes on Bikes.

[brickmvster]

An Old Flame (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Synopsis: After getting hammered at a club in attempts to repair a broken heart, in your drunken stupor, you call the one person you were trying to get over. He takes you back to his place, taking care of you, and it's then you realize that your feelings for him never quite dissipated.

Tags: breaking up and making up/exes to lovers, angst, fluff, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort that goes both ways, reconciliation

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6,309

Author's Note: I'm alive 😭 writer's block sucks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things, I think. I hope you guys enjoy this!! Notes and reblogs are appreciated of course. This has been proofread, but if any mistakes still managed to slip by me, apologies in advance, they're all mine.

I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this but please feel free to imagine any version of him you'd like!

(Read on AO3)

Sobbing in a dirty bathroom stall was definitely not how you envisioned your Friday night going.

The fact that you were also considerably drunk and could feel the liquid sloshing around inside of your belly, threatening to come up your throat and all over the floor, certainly didn't make matters any better.

You had come to the club with a group of friends who were all far more enthusiastic than you to be there. You never considered yourself much of a party person; and if you were going to attend a party, it was always a small one with people that you knew or were at least acquaintances with. At a dingy nightclub, you were surrounded by hundreds of sweaty strangers, and the music was so loud that you were sure you were going to be temporarily deaf for a while. To make the long story short – you weren't looking forward to coming here, but you regrettably let your friends drag you out of the comfort of your home.

The stupid leather pants your friends insisted you wore were feeling too tight. The bathroom was so stuffy and unbearably hot. There were two individuals in the stall next to you engaging in… a certain activity that you really didn't want to be around to hear. And the awful, terrible smell of puke was probably one of the worst things you've ever smelled in your entire life. It was all too much, every single one of your five senses being mercilessly attacked.

You shouldn't have let yourself get wasted; you knew that, and you mentally cursed yourself for such reckless behavior. But the longer you sat at the bar, completely by yourself and with your friends nowhere in sight, it was like no one was there to stop you. You still missed him and you thought alcohol would be better at numbing the pain than a tub of ice cream. Both were terrible items for getting over a heartbreak because they both only made you want to vomit, which is something you always learned the hard way.

That's how you ended up in a stall, tears freely running down your cheeks in a drunken haze. Your friends were on your mind, but more than anything you just wanted to be carried out of here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and opened up your contacts. But for some reason, instead of clicking on one of your friend's names, you kept scrolling further down, subconsciously searching for that specific name that you knew you should've just deleted a long time ago.

You clicked on the little phone icon, and listened attentively to the ringing on the other end. It rang and rang and rang, and it went on for so long that it almost snapped you out of the very stupid thing you were doing, but then–

"Hello?"

Leon actually answered. And even after all this time, his voice was still the most soothing sound in the world. You cleared your throat before attempting to put together a sentence in response.

"Hey… I'm… I'm, uh, in a gross bathroom at, um… fuck, what was the name of this place…" you trailed off, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. You rubbed your forehead, trying to think despite how hard it was to do.

Leon was silent for a bit on the other end before speaking up.

"___? Are you okay? It's… really late."

You chuckled, a burp coming out alongside the sound. "I know, right? What the fuck am I even doing here?"

"___, listen to me. Are you alright? Why did you call?" Leon asked. You could just faintly hear shuffling on the other end, and the unmistakable sound of keys jingling, as if he was already gathering his things before you even told him the location. Your heart fluttered at that and even more warmth was sent to your cheeks.

"No. No, I'm not alright. I feel really fucking sick right now and I don't know where my friends are and I fucking hate being here and-"

"Slow down, sweetheart," Leon said. If the alcohol didn't kill you, the pet name that Leon apparently still liked using for you would.

Leon fell quiet on the line, almost as if suddenly realizing the word that had slipped from his mouth.

"Sorry, I mean– look, tell me where you are. Do you want me to come and get you?"

There was a voice in your head screaming at you to just say no. Your friends were a text message away. If they saw the state you were in they'd take you home in a heartbeat. You knew the right thing to do was apologize to Leon, hang up, and get your ass out of the bathroom stall to find your group. But the alcohol was clouding your judgment, and the rational part of you simply didn't exist right now. Going back to Leon's apartment was like reopening a wound that had just healed. But you couldn't deny how much you needed him in this moment, no matter how pathetic it sounded. He had been on your mind the entire time you were at the club, and hell, even if you had been sober you probably would have ended up back at his place anyway. Because you simply didn't know how to stay away from things that you walked away from.

"Yes. Please come and get me." You replied softly, your words shaky with sorrow and guilt, your voice cracking.

"On my way. Stay put, okay?"

____

"___?"

Your eyes opened slowly. The side of your mouth felt wet with drool. Your brows furrowed as you took in your surroundings.

"___, are you in here?"

Your eyes widened a bit more upon registering whose voice was calling for you. You immediately sat up, trying to adjust your hair and straighten your shirt – before quickly giving up, because you knew no amount of adjusting would make you look like less of a hot mess.

"In here," you called out, not bothering to get up and open the door as your legs felt like they didn't work and any small movement would've caused you to expel your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

You saw two feet stop right in front of the door. You recognized those boots anywhere. They were your favorite pair.

"Are you… decent? Can I open the door?" Leon asked. You nodded, before quickly realizing he can't hear the movement of your head.

"Yeah," you replied weakly. Leon did just that, opening the stall door slowly.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you up right then and there. You knew you looked terrible, disgusting even. Your ex, on the other hand, still looked as gorgeous as ever, with his dirty blonde hair slightly longer than the last time you saw it and prettily falling into his deep blue eyes. He was wearing a form fitting black shirt that left nothing to the imagination with a pair of blue jeans and his expensive brown coat.

You averted your gaze out of pure embarrassment. Leon had never seen you in this state and you wish he hadn't. You wished you could turn back time and call your friends instead of him.

Leon kneeled in front of you in the cramped space, gently lifting your chin and making you look him in the eyes. The action only made you feel smaller.

"Hey, let me see you," he started, his gaze softening as he observed you.

"What happened? Nobody-" his jaw clenched. "Nobody did anything to you, right?"

You shook your head. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak.

"Okay, good. You just drank too much?"

You nodded that time.

Leon seemed physically relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood back up. He held out his hand.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You muttered out something that sounded like a "yes," taking his hand and slowly rising off the toilet seat. You almost toppled over, but Leon was there to steady you.

"Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed, but he was already moving your arm for you. You gladly took ahold of his shoulder as his hand held your wrist; his other arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly. The two of you walked out of the bathroom together, ignoring the stares from other club goers.

The both of you made outside, and the cool air was a pleasant sensation to your extremely warm body. Leon helped you into your car, handling you like you were made of glass, before getting into the driver's side himself. He buckled you up first, leaning over you to pull the strap across your chest. His breath was fanning across your face, and you felt your heart rate skyrocket. You gazed at him with tired eyes, and he returned the eye contact briefly, his eyes mostly unreadable, but definitely filled with concern no less.

Once he was buckled up himself, he took off, and you just closed your eyes, hoping and praying that the motion of the car wouldn't cause any sudden hurling.

The car ride was mostly silent; aside from the radio that Leon had turned up slightly, playing some rock song, you were far too exhausted to say anything. You didn't even know what to say, anyway, and it seemed like Leon didn't either.

Eventually, when he stopped at a light, he spoke for the first time in several long minutes. "Your friends – did they abandon you?"

You shook your head. "No… I was the one who split from them. Told them I wanted to be alone."

"But they didn't even check on you?"

You glanced at him and noticed his tense jaw had returned, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"They're all probably shit-faced, too." You replied dryly.

Leon sighed. "I… sure, I guess. Then that brings me to my next question… Why did you go over your limit? You could've put yourself in danger."

You shrugged, gazing out the window.

"I really don't know," you lied.

"God, ___, don't do something like this again. Please." Leon replied.

"I'm… sorry." You said. What you were apologizing for exactly, you weren't sure. For worrying him? For making him come all the way out here to save you like a damsel in distress? The more you thought about it, the more you leaned toward all of the above.

Leon seemed to relax again upon hearing your soft-spoken apology. "There's no need for that, I just…" a sigh. "You should rest. We're almost home."

Home.

You let your eyes slowly drift closed again. The last thing you saw was the sight of Leon driving with one hand, still wearing that unreadable expression.

____

Leon was quick to help you out the car after finding a parking spot. He guided you up the steps to the second floor of the complex, walking to his door. You leaned against him while he fiddled with his keys.

He eventually got the door open, helping you walk through the door. As he walked you through his living room to the bathroom, rather slowly as your feet were slightly dragging across the floor, you took in the familiar space around you. Leon's apartment was, of course, just how you remembered it. He had few decorations, most of them put up by you. His raggedy, but deceptively comfortable couch was somehow still standing strong. His place looked well lived-in; not terribly disorganized, just slightly cluttered. Given the nature of his career and how often he was away, he was never home long enough to let huge messes pile up anyway. You felt a smile tug at your lips as memories crawled back into your mind.

You remembered shopping with Leon for his decorations shortly after you moved in. He pretended to be indifferent, but you'll never forget the grin on his face as he helped you hang up some abstract paintings with poorly hidden amusement. That very couch was often where you spent your time resting your head on Leon's shoulders, or sometimes his head on your lap. The kitchen was where you and Leon made huge messes together, doing more kissing than cooking.

But your smile slightly faded as memories of the tail end of your relationship tainted your mind. Waiting alone for Leon to return home for a mission, worrying yourself sick. Sometimes Leon was distant, going from attentive and caring to cold and unresponsive in a heartbeat. You knew his trauma made it difficult for him to be fully present in the relationship – but sometimes you acted harshly anyway, both out of frustration and out of concern. His career was eating away at you, too.

The sound of running water pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly registered that Leon had sat you down on his toilet. After wetting a washcloth, he leaned down in front of you again.

"I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" He said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Leon wiped your face with the washcloth ever so gently, dabbing away dried drool and removing the light sweat that had formed across your forehead. He even went as far as to brush your teeth for you, thoroughly reaching every inch of your mouth to the best of his ability. Somehow, even during this, you found yourself dozing off a few times.

"You don't have to wash up now if you're too tired." Leon said once he had finished a portion of your nighttime routine for you. He stood in front of you while you were still seated, waiting for your next move.

You wanted nothing more than to wish the stink of the nightclub off your skin, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Take me to bed, Leon." You muttered, wrapping your hands around his waist and leaning against his torso.

Leon found himself grinning at how much of a koala you became when sleepy and drunk. With one hand, he played with your hair for a bit as you continued holding him. You sighed contently as you felt yourself slip away in the sensation. Leon looked down at you, feeling something tug at his heart strings at how vulnerable you looked like this. The warmth from your arms around his waist brought Leon to a painful realization – that he missed your touch more than he thought.

Leon tried to store that thought away. You'd be gone by the morning, right? He couldn't allow himself to open up to you after all this time. You had made the choice to walk away and as far as he knew, you hadn't changed your mind.

He gently tapped your arms, causing you to stir a bit.

"If you want me to take you to bed, you have to get up first." He said teasingly. You groaned, but reluctantly did what he asked. Even while standing, your eyes were barely open.

"Do you wanna change?” He asked.

“Into what?” You said sleepily, words slurring together.

“I can give you one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. I don't mind.”

You just nodded, leaning into Leon's side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Leon walked you to his bedroom, grabbing some clothes for you as you stood there patiently, your eyes half open. He gave you an old shirt of his and some gray sweatpants.

You began stepping out of your gross nightclub clothes right in front of Leon, who didn't seem to mind – he helped keep you from stumbling as you got dressed.

“This is so much better.” You said, feeling free and unconstrained now that you were out of those awful leather pants. Leon found himself holding back a grin at the way you were happily rubbing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Let's get you to bed.” He spoke.

He assisted you in getting cozy under the large comforter, even going as far as to tuck you in.

Leon's scent washed over you as you sunk into the softness of his mattress. You almost instantly succumbed to slumber, subconsciously burying your head into Leon's pillow.

For a long time, Leon just stared.

You were safe now, finally out of that awful nightclub and resting comfortably. He felt the tension leave his body, and he could finally go about his nightly routine at ease knowing you were taken care of.

Seeing you in his bed like this reminded him of the nights he came home late. Those nights, he'd crawl into bed next to you, holding you close as if you'd disappear into thin air. Strangely, despite the fact that he was looking directly at you, this was another moment where he felt like you'd cease to exist if he so much as looked away.

But he eventually forced himself to look away, sighing to himself as he went back to the bathroom to freshen up himself. He decided to sleep on the couch, falling asleep with you in his mind and still feeling the phantom touch of your arms around his waist.

____

Upon slowly opening your eyes, squinting slightly at the sunlight filtering through the room, it didn't take you long to notice the splitting headache that pulsated uncomfortably right behind your eyes. You also took note of the fact that you were clad in Leon's clothing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your face bunching up in pain at your awful hangover. You were mentally chastising yourself, as you knew that this terrible headache could've been easily avoided had you not gone past your limit the night before. It was at the moment, as you were lying on your back and staring at the familiar sight of Leon's apartment ceiling, that all of the memories from last night came rushing back to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You barely remember anything from last night, but you knew that when you were shit-faced you turned into a giant child, and you were already feeling apologetic for putting Leon through your drunken antics. You didn't even want to get out of bed and face the man.

So, you did just that; you lied there for a few extra minutes, absolutely dreading the moment when you would have to get up eventually. You sighed, rolling over on your side, facing the closed bedroom door. It was then that you noticed the tall glass of water and bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

You sat up slowly, feeling your heart warm at Leon's thoughtfulness. You took one pill from the bottle, swallowing it down in one large gulp of water.

You also noticed your phone on the table. Curiously, you checked to see if your phone was even alive – which it was, much to your surprise, but the battery was low. You saw numerous text messages from your acquaintances last night. Some of them were just talking about how much fun they had and thanking you for coming out. Others seem concerned about where you had gone. You didn't feel like replying to any of them, so you promptly shut your phone off. You needed to save your battery, anyway, as you didn't have a charger. You left your phone in its place on the table.

You sat in Leon's bed for a little longer after that, sighing to yourself, before getting up to go find where he was.

You didn't have to look very far after opening the door; there Leon stood in the kitchen, occupied with making breakfast. It seemed like he didn't notice your presence at first, so you took that opportunity to gaze at him, grinning softly at the concentrated look on his face as he flipped over a pancake, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked cuter than ever, clad in his well-loved plaid pajama pants and a loose black shirt. It felt strange, seeing him like this again after so many months.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Leon suddenly spoke, still turned away from you. You were slightly startled, quickly averting your gaze.

“Morning,” you said softly. “Did you know I was standing here the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Leon replied, finally turning to you with a pretty smile on his face, one that you couldn't help but immediately return. “Government training helped me with my awareness, y'know.”

You chuckled at that, making your way over to the dining table and taking a seat. Resting your chin in your hand, you watched Leon lovingly, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Need a hand with anything?” you asked.

“Nah, it's alright. I'm almost done, anyway.” Leon replied. “By the way, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. I forgot how comfortable your bed was.” you said.

Leon grinned. “That's good. And your head?”

“It's feeling better. Thanks for the medicine, by the way.”

“Of course.” Leon replied.

Eventually, he carried to the table two plates of food, along with two tall glasses of orange juice. It was a simple breakfast, consisting of just pancakes, but it was totally fine by you. They looked fluffy and perfectly cooked and you didn't hesitate to dive in.

Leon just watched you eat in silence, a small grin on his face as he watched you do a little happy dance upon taking a bite. He wasn't really showing it, but he was very pleased with himself; not just because he made you a decent plate of pancakes but because you were here with him, out of that grimy nightclub, content and being taken care of. Leon felt a tug at his heartstrings as he realized just how much he missed taking care of you.

“Leon. Are you gonna eat?” you said with a chuckle, nearly done with your food. Leon seemed to snap out of whatever trance you had put him in, quickly glancing at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a slightly bashful way that made you swoon. He finally had begun eating, thoughtfully chewing, taking his time.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling completely satiated. For a while, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence. It dawned on you that eventually you'd have to leave, sadness beginning to wash over you like waves.

“What's the matter?” Leon suddenly spoke. “Be honest, were the pancakes actually terrible?” He said jokingly. That got you smiling again, and you let out a small, half-hearted laugh.

“Leon, they were fucking amazing,” you replied sincerely. You smiled then faltered a bit. “I just… I still feel bad.”

Leon, who was also sitting lax in his chair, had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he gazed warmly at you.

“About?” He inquired.

You sighed, looking down at your lap. Suddenly eye contact was too much right now.

“For last night. I know I've already apologized but… seriously, I'm really sorry for making you drive all the way out there. And for worrying you.”

Leon shook his head, looking at you with an expression that could only be read as sympathetic.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again – you don't have to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm glad you called me. It meant that you trusted me to ensure your safety; and that made me feel good.”

You felt your heart warm at that. You continued to stare down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs, still hesitant to let him into your gaze.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Leon said ever so softly. The gentle, almost desperate tone of voice was enough to get you to finally raise your head and meet his eyes.

“There you are,” he said fondly. “I want you to know that you can always call me. For anything. And if you need me, I'll be there. We're not… together anymore but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna step out of your life, okay? I still care about you. Always will.”

You were effectively silenced, so deeply touched by Leon's words that you couldn't even produce any of your own. Suddenly your vision began to blur and your bottom lip was quivering.

Your friends – really, just your co-workers – who had practically forgotten about you at that club? They probably didn't care about you all like they claimed to. But if there was one person that would always stand up for you, help you, tend to your needs – it was Leon. It had always been him.

With a shaky voice, you responded, “Thank you, Leon. I… still care about you, too. So much. I totally owe you after last night.” you said with a playful smile, although you were honestly very serious.

“No, it's okay. You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what a good friend is supposed to do.”

Friend.

You brushed the word off, ignoring the pang of disappointment that hit you. You simply smiled at him.

Clearing your throat, you started another topic. “So, um… I guess since I'm here, we should catch up a bit. It's been so long since I've last spoken to you.”

Leon shrugged. “Honestly? I don't have much to catch you up on. I've just been doing what I always do, lounging around, working, occasionally going out with Claire and Chris. You know me, I'm a boring guy.”

“You are not at all boring, Kennedy,” you said teasingly.

“You know, it's okay to admit it.” He replied, and you could only shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

“You're literally a government agent. That's the opposite of boring.”

“Well, what a lot of people don't know is that being a government agent also comes with a shit-ton of paperwork.”

“I suppose,” you said with a completely playful roll of your eyes. “Anyway, Claire and her brother doing well?”

“They're doing great. They're always asking about you.”

You felt guilt begin to rear its ugly head at Leon's comment. “I haven't spoken to them in a while too… God, I'm terrible.” You said.

“Hey, don't make it a huge deal. They know how busy you are. They still care about you too. You could go a thousand years without speaking to them and they'd still be excited to hear from you.”

“That's nice to know.” You replied. You made it a mental note to get in contact with them soon.

The dining table fell quiet again. There was this undeniable tension in the air, one that the two of you couldn't shake. As much as you hated to admit it, you had missed sitting at Leon's dining table, sitting across from him specifically, sharing peaceful mornings together. You knew that eventually you'd have to leave; you'd part ways with Leon once more. You wish you could say that'd be easy to do.

Leon pulled you out of the recesses of your mind when he suddenly stood up, grabbing the two plates and cups. You silently watched as he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Without even thinking, you stood up as well, joining him in the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” you said, not even giving him the choice.

Leon shook his head, like you knew he would. “It's alright, I got it. I know you've probably got things to do, so I understand if you need to go-”

“Things to do? Like what?” You interrupted with a playful grin. “I want to help, Leon, please.”

“It's only a few dishes.”

“I know– look, stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please.” You said, taking a plate out of his hand and grabbing a washcloth to help with drying. Leon just chuckled, having paused his washing for a bit to admire you.

“You haven't changed.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you put the plate back in its respective cabinet. You didn't even need to ask where it went – it was muscle memory for you.

“I mean… always wanting to help with stuff. It's what I've always liked about you.” Leon replied, handing you a newly washed cup. You took it, slowly, still processing his words. You felt a certain warmth throughout your body, trying to distract yourself from the feeling by rather furiously drying the glass.

“That's just how I am. Can't help it.” You replied shyly, your voice coming out small.

“I know. You should consider being an agent since you like helping so much.” Leon teased. You were putting the glass up when he had said that and weren't looking directly at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made you smile.

“Absolutely not.” You replied immediately, to which the both of you broke out into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen.

The two of you finished doing the dishes fairly quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. It all felt too familiar. The both of you fell into your usual banter so easily, and it was almost like you two hadn't just spent months apart.

You ended up helping Leon clean his entire kitchen after the dishes, chatting with him every second and moving around each other with the sort of ease you can only get when you've spent enough time in one place to memorize everything. You told Leon that you didn't mind helping him knock out a few chores, which was true; you knew how busy he was and how he was usually too tired to take care of things like this himself. But deep down, the true reason why you were still here was because you just didn't want to leave. But you kept that part buried within you. It was difficult coming to terms with what that meant and you didn't want to think about it.

“Does anything else need tidying?” You asked him once you finished wiping the kitchen counter. Leon looked around, seemingly thinking for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, it's all good. But I appreciate it.”

Your grin faltered a bit. You knew you had to go. You had been here for hours now.

“Ah, okay,” you said, trying to hide the dejection in your voice. “Well, um… I guess I should get out of your hair then.”

Leon perked up at that. “You don't have to leave.” He said quickly. He then cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean, uh– if you don't want to, you can stay as long as you want.”

You wanted to more than anything else. But the right thing would be to leave, even though that went against your heart's desires. Who knows what you'd end up saying– or doing– if you stayed. Whatever it'd be, you'd probably regret it.

“I should really go.” You said quietly. Leon just silently nodded. His expression was unreadable yet again.

After making sure you had all your belongings, and unfortunately having to change back into your cursed club outfit for the time being, you now stood in front of the door. Leon had changed out of his pajamas too, looking as handsome as ever in a simple pair of jeans, a black shirt, and boots.

Since your friends had driven you to the club, and Leon drove you to his place, he'd have to drive you back. You were waiting for him after he had said he had to find his keys. You took one long, final glance around his house as you stood there with a heavy heart.

Quite a bit of time had passed, though, and you were about to call out to Leon, as you noticed he seemed to be taking longer than you expected. You figured he just needed help searching for his keys, so you jogged over to his bedroom, where you saw him enter.

When you walked in, he was kneeling in front of a cardboard box. His closet door was open, so you presumed that's where the box came from. Your brows pinched together in confusion.

“Leon? I can help with finding your keys-”

“Oh, I have my keys. I just, um… suddenly remembered something.” He said, a bit cryptically.

You were still visibly puzzled. “Remembered what?” you asked, walking a bit closer to see the contents of the box. And then you realized.

In the box was some jewelry of yours, one of your shirts, and a bottle of perfume that you had forgotten at his home ages ago.

Your heart warmed at the fact that Leon kept them safe and tucked away in his closet, almost as if he was waiting for the day to return them to you.

“I completely forgot about these,” he said, standing up to face you. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I've been meaning to give these back.”

You just smiled, feeling so incredibly touched and endeared.

“It's okay, Leon. I didn't even realize I was missing these items.” You said with a chuckle. You kneeled down yourself, sifting through the contents of the box and reminiscing. The perfume especially reminded you of so many date nights and all the times Leon told you how nice you smelled.

“You know, that reminds me,” You began, feeling the cotton of your old, worn t-shirt that lay perfectly folded in the box. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts. The old RPD one.”

You knew you did. It was still in your closet, hidden away. Not forgotten, just out of sight.

“You can keep it.” Leon said. “You looked better in it anyway.”

You felt that familiar heat rush to your face again. Even after all this time, his words still affected you.

“Well, um… thanks.” You replied.

“It's nothing.”

You stood up, holding the box, and the two of you walked back to the door. Every step felt heavier than the last.

You watched as Leon was about to open the door for you. But in that moment, as he was about to turn the knob, something within you snapped.

“Wait.” You said.

Leon paused, turning to look at you. “Did– did you forget something?” He asked.

You shook your head. You slowly put the box down on the floor, gently kicking it aside.

“I don't wanna leave, Leon.”

Leon still seemed perplexed. “I told you, you can stay as long as you-”

“No, I mean… I'm not leaving… again.”

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Leon. He was silent for a bit, unsure of how to proceed, or what to say.

“I need you to be more clear.” He said simply.

You stepped closer to him. You nearly reached your hand out, wanting to gently stroke his hair like you always used to do, but you weren't sure if he was ready to jump back into physical affection like that. You restrained yourself.

“I want to try again, Leon. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. At the time, I didn't understand your trauma – I failed to accommodate you. When I left… I realized how shitty I had been. How much I had missed you. I dated other people and none of them gave me what you did. You were too good to me and I was too selfish. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I've grown. I will try my best to meet you where you are from now on if you just let me back in.”

You said all of this while staring directly into Leon's captivating eyes, sincerity in your tone and in the way you gazed at him. You hoped Leon could feel your guilt. Your remorse.

Leon just stared back, stunned into silence. You could tell his mind was racing, searching for what to say, processing everything you had told him. You were prepared for him to say no. You were bracing for the heartbreak. You wouldn't be upset, no. You'd be understanding. You were ready to leave for good if that's what he wanted.

But heartbreak isn't what you got.

“Thank you. For apologizing.” Leon said. “I should, too. I wasn't being totally honest about my line of work. And dating a government agent isn't necessarily an easy thing to handle. It was probably traumatic for you, too, seeing me come home so damaged, physically and mentally.

“And for the record, I don't think you were being selfish. You wanted to help, I know you did, you just didn't know how and it was frustrating.”

You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, your emotions nearly meeting their boiling point, tears threatening to spill. Deep down, you didn't think Leon had anything to apologize for, considering everything he's been through and seen, but you were appreciative of his apology nonetheless. It warmed your heart to know that he never resented you when you were together, like you always thought he did.

“So… should we try this again?” you said, a playful glint in your watery eyes.

Leon grinned. “We should.”

At that, you couldn't hold back any longer. You went in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck snugly. He wasted no time in wrapping his around your waist. Being back in his arms again felt like a dream.

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You felt Leon relax even more at the soft touch.

With your lips close to his ear, you whispered:

“I never stopped loving you.”

Leon pulled away a bit, his hands just lightly resting on your waist.

“Neither did I.”

A pause. You felt his breath fan across your face.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, already grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Please.” Was all Leon said before you leaned in, your lips finding purchase on top of his, bodies pressed close together.

You had a hunch that making yourself at home again wouldn't be difficult at all.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Second chance: cbf!soap x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of infidelity, angst

You placed the moving box down by your old childhood bed and sighed heavily. That was the last box from your apartment, you were going to fully moved in after this.

Th past year had been one your worst...almost topping junior year of university. It was like the universe was playing some sort of sick trick on you with how constant the bad things kept happening to you.

It started because of your ex-fiancé.

You liked him.

He was nice, attractive and one of the more serious relationships you had gotten into since university. He bought you nice things and showed you off, though whenever you looked back on it he often paired his compliments with negatives to subtly tear you down.

You didn't notice then, or maybe you didn't care as much, or maybe you just pretended not to so he'd stay.

He was really only attentive in the bedroom which was a plus compared to a few other loves you had before him.

The sex was so great however that you walked in on him with another woman in your apartment in your bed one morning after a fight.

At that moment you realized maybe you held on too tight to something you shouldn't have.

After you kicked him out and broke things off you decided it was best to just take a step back from any relationships and to completely get off social media, since it did wonders on your mental health after the break up.

You were lucky enough that you had more self respect for yourself when it came to a cheater than a partner who put you down when he tried to get back with you, even if it hurt you a lot.

You liked him.

Things were looking okay but you should've known better than to get your hopes up.

"We're needing to cut back on a lot of expenses." Your boss had told you. "We still want you on the team but we'll be cutting your pay."

In hindsight you should've waited to quit until you found another job, because before long you were out of money to pay rent since no one else would hire you.

Now you were back to living with your parents.

Your throat tightened as you began to unpack the box onto your bed while deep shame washed over you.

You were a failure. Everyone else in your life had things figured out, Your friends had their own places, they were happily married, they had careers that they like and you...

Well you were stuck back in your small hometown with no back up plan and no job.

Alone.

You sniffled and flopped onto your bed.

You tried hard not to give yourself a pity party but you were at your wits end. You tried everything, you pushed down your feelings and tried to look on the bright side and did everything you were supposed to but nothing worked.

You needed someone right now but your friends were miles away and busy. Your parents were visiting your grandparents and you didn't want their pity.

There was one person.

You grabbed your phone without even thinking about it and went to John's contact in your phone. You went to his messages, ignoring the last mundane message you sent him and hovered your thumbs above the keyboard.

How many times have you done this?

You knew he'd let you cry into the phone and listen to you vent. He'd give you advice or at the very least he'd comfort you and tell you that things were going to be okay, that it always ends up working out for you in the end. He'd make everything alright-

Except you didn't know.

It had been seven years since you last spoke or saw each other. You're not even sure if he had the same phone number, if he even thought about you as often as you did about him.

John could've forgotten about you. He probably became some big shot military hero who had a wife and kids completely far removed from the small town childhood friend he had.

You didn't know, he wasn't on social media.

The only way you could find out was if you reached out and talked to him.

But he didn't want to talk to you.

You had held him back, like you feared you did since high school. That was the only reason you could think of for why he disappeared on you. Why else would he stop talking to you?

You weren't bitter, not anymore. You used to be angry the first year or so but after the angry subsided you realized you were just hurt.

You just wanted your best friend back. Your Johnny. But he was out of reach and he didn't want to come back, he never really did even when he visited you at university.

The screen became blurry and a couple tears ran down your face before you wiped them away.

You needed a distraction.

You didn't think twice as you sloppily put on whatever clothes you could find and walked to the corner store. You were glad your parents weren't in town to see you get drunk on a Monday evening, especially when they kept looking at you like you were push away from a break down.

Probably because you were but that didn't matter right now.

When you walked into the store you went straight to the liquor and picked out the cheapest one you could afford along with any snacks you thought would pair well with it.

You could just drown in your sorrows for the rest of the evening. You'd put on your favorite show or movie, try to ignore the world and hope that when you'd be hungover tomorrow that you'd have enough strength to look for more jobs.

You turned down an aisle and your heart stopped before you froze.

John MacTavish stood at the very end of the aisle, looking very concentrated on the boxes of popcorn in front of him as if it were a life or death situation.

The very real, tangible, and unmistakable John MacTavish, still with the dumb but endearing mohawk, stood just mere feet away from you.

You wanted to be happy but all you felt was immense shame and nervousness.

Not like this. You didn't want to see him like this. You wanted to reconnect when your life was back together, when you had something to show for and not when you were holding cheap alcohol to get shitfaced on a Monday.

"No." You mumbled to yourself as you stared at him with wide eyes. "No, no."

You stepped back and gasped when you ran into a rack of snacks that crashed against the floor loud enough to make your ears hurt. Your heart raced and you nearly ran away as everything became overwhelming.

"Bonnie?"

You snapped your head towards John and you were met with the bright blue eyes that you had missed for seven years.

Tags are closed!

a/n: yay reunion!

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce @pepsicolacoochie @hayleybarnesx @tiredmetalenthusiast @misshoneypaper @sodavrr @ghostslittlegf @glitterypirateduck @comeonatmebruh @mandalover2023 @blush-haze @xxshadowbabexx @cod-z @sadsackssss @fandomsfanficsfantasize @raeyas-ghost

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: explicit sex | crossposted on ao3

it starts off small, so small that it takes probably a bit too long for steve to notice that it's even happening. in the months after hawkins started to rebuild from the literal ground up, the harrington house had become an oasis of sorts to anyone in the party who needed it. it sometimes felt like there was a revolving door without any sort of lock on his front porch with how many times he'd get home to see someone sitting on his couch unannounced or curled up on a chair by the pool.

steve isn't exactly surprised when his products run out faster than usual. it started with his hairspray, which he chalked up to the rats nests that became mike and dustin's heads as they learned what teasing did to their hair. but then it shifted to his shampoo, his cologne, his laundry detergent, his conditioner. and sure, he was having to buy all of it more often, but if that meant his makeshift little family was taken care of, then so be it.

but then he notices it. every so often without a pattern, no rhyme or reason, he'll get home and the house will smell like him. almost like steve had just left in the morning for work, spicy cologne and tangy hairspray tinging the air, the smell of his shampoo as strong as it would be if he had just stepped out of a steamy shower.

it doesn't bother him, what's his is the party's and all that, but steve can't figure out who it could possibly be. whoever is coming to his house to take a shower doesn't own up to it, doesn't have their hair quaffed in any ridiculous fashion with dried farrah fawcett hairspray.

it's a wednesday afternoon when he finally pieces it all together.

steve left for work that morning without his wallet so he drives back home on his lunch break with hopes to retrieve it and make some sort of half-assed sandwich for lunch. when he opens the door, he can hear the shower going in his bathroom, can vaguely hear someone talking to themselves, and the scent of his cologne hits his nose immediately.

glancing up the stairs warily, steve toes off his shoes and sets his keys on the entryway table before making his way up to his bedroom. the closer he gets to the door, the stronger the smell becomes, and the more obvious the voice becomes.

he didn't spend weeks cleaning his wounds and helping him relearn how to walk and petting through his hair after a harsh nightmare woke him up screaming to not know exactly what eddie sounds like when he's in pain.

steve's feet clamor up the stairs quickly. he's picturing the worst, picturing eddie on the bathroom floor after slipping on the wet floor with broken bones and open veins, picturing him curled into a ball while the shower runs cold over him as he tries to pull himself out of an upside down headspace.

what he gets isn't that.

what he gets is a bathroom full of steam from a burning hot shower with the smell of his cologne and shampoo drifting through the swirls of condensation. what he gets is eddie leaning against the side of the shower with steve's conditioner bottle in one hand. what he gets is eddie's product-slick hand working over himself with steve's name falling off his lips followed by whines, slack jawed with eyes closed and a pinch between his eyebrows.

and, oh.

oh.

steve's crossing the tile floor in only a few steps so he can throw the glass shower door open, eyes unable to look away from the conditioner dripping off his hand as eddie jacks fast and hard over his cock.

he can feel himself getting hard in his work khakis at the sight, thinks back to however many times he's pictured this exact same thing happening in his bedroom with lube and less clothes on his end.

any residual worry melts away into lust racing through his veins as his name being moaned out of his lips echoes through his brain. eddie startles as steve opens the shower door, conditioner bottle clanging noisily on the floor as he drops it in shock.

"steve?!" eddie exclaims, ripping his hand off his cock to try and cover it up with his fingers instead. "what're you-"

"it's been you this whole time?" steve can feel the grin pulling at his lips, knows that it probably looks like some mix of feral and turned on, and hopes that eddie can pick up on it, too.

"what's been me?" eddie responds, still shifting under steve's gaze like he's trying to shy away from it. his skin has turned pretty pink either from the hot shower spray or from embarrassment and steve wants to feel the warm flush under his palms.

steve's eyes land on his bottle of cologne on the shower shelf next to his shampoo bottle and he reaches past eddie to grab it, ignoring the squawk it pulls out of him when his bare arm brushes over eddie's wet chest. the steam is still swirling around them, causing steve to squint as he tries to make out eddie's expression.

he looks bashful, something he's never seen on the face he knows oh so well. the face he's memorized and pictured late at night. his hands are still scrambling to find bits of him to cover and he has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, biting at the chapped bits.

without speaking, steve shakes the bottle of calvin klein in his hand and lifts his eyebrow in an unspoken question, steam not strong enough to hide how much more pink floods into eddie's cheeks.

"okay wait, i can explain, i just-"

steve takes another small step forward, watching eddie's eyes as they roam over him, watching his eyes go to roll back when his hand must brush over his hard cock the right way.

"just...?" steve taunts and he doesn't want to be mean but he only has so long of a lunch break. he intentionally lets his gaze trace over eddie, trailing down to where his hands are covering his cock and steve wants nothing more than to get his hands around him instead. "just what?"

he can see something snap in eddie, the bashfulness from earlier fading into annoyance as he rolls his eyes. "i just like how you smell. there, happy?"

"almost," steve grins as his free hand comes up to start unbuckling his belt slowly. eddie's eyes track the motion, grow wide before coming back up to meet steve's. "sounded like you were saying something when i walked in. sounded like leave or eve or..."

eddie rolls his eyes again before cutting him off. "cocky bastard."

"... maybe it was the name of a guy who is 2 seconds away from getting his hands on you. shame, i guess we'll never know."

he's being too forward, he knows it, knows that if he keeps it up he might scare eddie away. but he has to be forward, can't dance around it any longer because his cock is close to be painfully hard and he doesn't think he can go back to jerking himself off knowing eddie's doing the same with things that smell like him to help him get there.

"don't joke around," eddie says before swallowing, shifting his weight between his feet.

gently, so gently, steve reaches out his free hand and wraps his fingers around one of eddie's wrists to pull his hand away. eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth and looks at steve, eyes still wide and oh so pretty. he gives him a nod, small and stilted, before pulling his other hand away.

"not a joke. wanted you for so long..." steve trails off before letting his fingertips ghost over his cock. "is this where all my conditioner ends up?"

eddie whimpers, honest to god whimpers, and nods his head while he watches steve's fingers like a hawk. "like smelling like you."

steve stills his movements, takes in a deep breath and holds it so he doesn't do something stupid like drop to his knees and get a mouth full of conditioner. yeah, he's definitely going to be late getting back to work.

"and my cologne?" he whispers, walking his fingers lightly up his shaft to tickle the hairs on his lower belly. "what do you do with that?"

"just- just spray it in the steam so it gets all around me so it's... it's like you're here," eddie's voice is hitched, still low and gravelly but tight like he's afraid to fully let go. steve doesn't exactly blame him considering he's close to ruining a perfectly fine pair of work khakis. "steve, please."

steve can't take it anymore. can't take his big brown bambi eyes looking at him like he'll evaporate away as quickly as steam, disappear like fading cologne. steve reaches into the shower to turn off the faucet, crowds eddie against the wall, ignoring the water seeping into his socks, and finally presses their mouths together.

kissing eddie is everything he could have imagined, it's messy and fast and has their teeth knocking while they try to get as close as possible. there's a wet hand gripping onto steve's waist through his work polo and he thinks it must be the one covered in conditioner because it squelches as eddie grips tighter.

"god, do you have any idea how fucking hot it was to walk in and see you like that?" steve asks as he breaks away to trail kisses all over eddie's neck. his hair is dripping wet and steve follows a drop with his tongue. "thought i was going to lose my goddamn mind."

"probably about as hot as it is when i know it's you walking up the stairs based on your fucking cologne alone."

eddie's hip jump, looking for the friction that he so badly needs, his cock spreading messy conditioner mixed with precome over steve's pants. and who is steve to deny him? he drops a hand to wrap fully around his aching dick, his other hand working to unbutton his pants so he can pull his own cock out.

steve could live here. live in the whines eddie's so graciously giving him, live in the sensation of a hand drenched in expensive conditioner wrapping around his dick, live in the overwhelming smell of himself, a smell that now also means eddie.

it's fast and over within barely a few minutes. they're both too needy and desperate, too high strung to make it last any longer than it does. eddie's biting into his lower lip to stop from screaming and steve's grunting as he takes what he can get from eddie's release to make his slide even easier before adding even more to the mess.

steve thinks off-handedly that it's a good thing this all happened at home so he can at least change before going to work.

later, eddie's laying naked on steve's bed as he watches him change into a new work appropriate outfit, lock of his curly hair pulled in front of his nose, deeply breathing in the scent he finds there. steve looks over as he buttons up a new pair of pants, leaning with his hands on the mattress to press a kiss onto eddie's lips before heading for the door.

"quit sniffing your hair like that. gonna get tired of the smell."

eddie gives him a grin, snuggling face first into steve's pillow and then turning his head to peek back at him. "haven't gotten tired of it yet, have i?"

steve takes a mental picture of eddie in his bed, smiling up at him like he belongs there, naked and perfect and everything steve could ever want. he grabs his spare bottle of cologne off the desk next to his doorframe and spritzes some on his wrists, dabs it behind his ears. watches as eddie perks up to take in a deep breath through his nose, releasing it shakily.

"stay until i get back?" his voice sounds soft, sweet. he can see when eddie hears it to because he gives him an even sweeter smile in return, blinking slowly like a content cat. he takes another mental snapshot, files it away in an eddie shaped folder.

"can't get rid of me that easily, harrington."

and if he rushes to the store after he gets off work to pick up a few extra bottles of cologne and conditioner and whatever else eddie could want, that's nobody's business but theirs and the showers.

[hischierswhore]

hiii, could you write some angst to fluff with nico?

like maybe they into a big argument, but end up resolving everything

thaankss🫶🏼

jealousy is a good thing

pairing: nico hischier x bff!reader

a/n: hi anon! i kind of steered away from the whole 'argument' plotline but i think this turned out cute?? idk.

You were currently at some party with Nico and the rest of the team. You were talking to Luke when you excused yourself to go grab a water bottle, as you suddenly felt the urge to drink some water. On your way to the fridge, you saw the worst sight possible: Nico chatting away with Y/bff. This wasn't the first time you'd witnessed the two together. They looked comfortable in each others presence, which made you feel kind of weird for some reason.

As much as you loved Nico and he was one of the most adorable people on earth, it still bothered you seeing him hanging out with someone other than you.

You'd grown to have a massive crush on Nico, your best friend of 4 years. You'd become friends when he started playing with the Devils, and had slowly fallen in love with him ever since. The biggest issue was that you couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you felt because you didn't want to risk losing him.

So now here you were, watching Nico act all happy and close to Y/bff, thinking about what you should do. Tell him how you feel? Go talk to Y/bff? Confront both of them? All these thoughts flew through your head in seconds, causing your mind to run rampant.

You were lost in thought when a hand grabbed yours from behind. You turned around to see Nico smiling at you. He handed you a water bottle and you smiled back as you muttered a quiet "Thanks" before heading off towards Luke once again, leaving Nico standing next to the fridge confused.

He stared at you as you walked away, but his face soon returned to its normal expression as he continued to chat with Y/bff.

They pair continued chatting the night away and you just didn't want to be there anymore. Not knowing what to do, you headed home early to avoid being a third wheel. Once you arrived home, you got ready for bed and cried yourself to sleep at the thought of your love for Nico not being reciprocated.

You woke up in the middle of the night to someone rubbing your back. You slowly opened your eyes and realized it was Nico, who was gently rubbing your back in an attempt to wake you.

You sat up slightly and rubbed your eyes as you yawned, "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to see if you're okay. You left the party and didn't tell anyone" He replied as he pulled away from your back. He noticed the faint tear marks on your face, even though the room was dark. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing really, I was just tired." You lied. It was true you weren't tired, you were crying yourself to sleep at the fact that you liked Nico more than he liked you. He was probably trying to comfort you by waking you up, not realizing that he was actually making you feel worse.

He nodded as he let out a small sigh. He sat down on the edge of your bed as he began to play with your hair, "Are you sure you're alright? You seem like you aren't yourself."

"I'm fine, Nico. Just go back to the party and talk to Y/bff again or something" You replied quietly as you tried to ignore the confusion in his voice. You knew Nico cared about you, but it was only a friendship. No matter how much you wanted it to be more, you knew it wouldn't happen.

There was a silence that filled the pitch black room, that is until Nico reached for the lamp on your bedside table and turned the dim lights on. You could finally see Nico's face, and he could see yours in much better detail.

"Y/bff? What are you talking about?" Nico asked as he looked into your eyes. Your cheeks were bright red and you were nervously avoiding eye contact.

"It doesn't matter. Just leave me alone" You snapped as you curled up into a ball and you felt the first fresh tear land on your cheek. You hated this part of being in love with someone; dealing with the rejection when they didn't return your feelings.

The tears started flowing once again as Nico brushed his hand up and down your back, attempting to soothe you. But he failed miserably, because instead of calming you down, it only caused you to cry even harder.

Nico felt his heart breaking into a million pieces as he watched you wither away in front of him.

"Y/n please talk to me. What's going on?" Nico pleaded as he lightly shook you. You slowly opened your eyes and glanced over at Nico, noticing the hurt look in his eyes.

"Just go back to the damn party and talk to Y/bff, since she's apparently caught your eye lately" You snapped before rolling over onto your stomach.

Nico was silent for a few moments as he stared at you, wanting to know why you said those words to him.

"You think I'm into Y/bff?" He asked with a sad tone. "Is that what this is about?"

The silence on your end spoke volumes. The way your body language changed gave it away, and it killed Nico to hear the truth spoken aloud.

Nico's heart dropped to the floor as you sobbed uncontrollably into your pillow. He hated that he was the reason behind your tears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you buried your face into the soft material. A lone tear rolled down his cheek and landed on your arm, causing you to stop sobbing and turn to look at him.

"I'm not into Y/bff, you know" He whispered.

You hesitated to answer him as you gazed at his face, desperately trying to figure out what to say.

"But you've both been super chatty lately and hanging out a lot more" You finally uttered.

"Well I didn't want to have to tell you but she's been giving me dating advice on this girl I like" Nico confessed.

"And the last thing I want is for the girl I’m after to think I'm going after her other best friend, especially considering me and this girl are best friends." Nico continued.

You froze, unable to speak. Your mind went completely blank as you listened to Nico explain what was going on. The last thing you expected was for Nico to actually reveal that he was into you. Was he serious? Had he always been into you? You felt faint as you thought about everything that just happened.

When you finally regained control of your senses, you quickly turned to face Nico. There was no mistaking the large smile plastered across his face. You blushed deeply as you attempted to fight back your emotions.

"What?" Nico asked with excitement.

"Do you mean it?" You squeaked.

Nico laughed as he nodded vigorously. "Of course I mean it!"

Your heart soared as you smiled brightly at Nico, reaching forward to hug him. He embraced you tightly as you continued to cry, this time tears of joy.

After another minute, you broke apart from each other. Nico looked at you with the goofiest face possible.

"Were you jealous, schatzi?" He teased.

You rolled your eyes, "Shut up."

He chuckled as he patted your shoulder, "It's okay to admit it, sometimes jealousy is a good thing."

taglist

@lovelynikol16

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist for any of the players i write for, please let me know!)

[x0llaz]

Lover’s Rock 🎸 | S.ES |

Song eunseok x reader

WC: 2563

In which eunseok shows up at YN’s house, drunk out of his mind.

Exes to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of hookups, fluffy angst, you will hate the ending but you will also get part 2

Eunseok was drunk. Out of his mind drunk. He was so out of his mind he just started walking, aimless in his path, no real idea of where to go. He left his friends twenty minutes before, saying he wanted some air. Yet so much later, he was still gone. He had no rhyme or reason for leaving, no plan of where he would end up. But He kept walking, even as people watched him stumble, and his vision felt blurry.

He always felt at ease at parties. Surrounded by friends, pretty girls, and more drinks than he would care to consume. It was easy to unwind. Sneaking off with friends to the backyard, kissing girls in bathrooms, it was all part of the routine. So why did he leave? Why was this party so different?

The music was loud, people danced around him, pushing against everyone else as if they weren’t there. He had been talking to a girl, who had whispered in his ear something he didn’t care to remember. His friends were all tipsy, each with their nth cup of beer. But he had this feeling inside him he couldn’t shake. Something was missing. As he stumbled through the crowd, he felt this gaping sensation, so much emptier than he had before.

The music was too loud. People pushing him made him feel like he would throw up. His friends were too tipsy to have a coherent conversation. The beer tasted like shit the more he drank it, sickeningly sweet on his tongue. Probably worst of all,

No girl at the party was her.

It was a thought that had never crossed his mind. A thought that scared him. Because it had been two months, why was he still thinking about her? Why now, why this party, did it make him feel sick?

It hit him like a truck, realizing that no girl he hooked up with would ever compare to the girl he had grown soft for. He realized that she wouldn’t be there waiting for him to come back with drinks. She wouldn’t dance with him, or steal drinks of his beer. She wouldn’t kiss him in the bathroom, or tease him for being all over her. She was gone.

The thoughts clouded his mind, and instead of pushing through and blacking out with his friends, he left to “get some air”.

Their breakup had never felt like this before. Sure, there was the initial loneliness after they ended things, but he had never felt so desperate for her than he did in this moment.

So he walked. And walked. No plan on where he would go. Should he go home? To another friend’s house? To a park? Where could he go that would give him peace of mind?

He didn’t know. He just kept walking.

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but when he found his way to her apartment building,

It just felt right.

YN Had managed to move on smoothly. She spent her days focusing on herself, and avoiding thoughts of Eunseok. It helped, and eventually she felt okay with what happened. Despite the days of crying, the days she felt like she couldn’t get out of bed after Eunseok broke up with her, she was moving on. And she could only assume he did the same.

She was sitting on her bed, texting some friends that night. She had been invited to a party that she declined to attend, opting instead to go out to eat. Part of her longed for the nights she used to go out, but going to such events felt so attached to Eunseok that she couldn’t bring herself to go to them anymore. She liked to pretend that she had completely moved on from what happened between them, but she decided to stop lying to herself, and move on knowing the truth.

It was late, so late, she expected no visitors. She was looking forward to staying up late, maybe binging a show, or baking cookies way later than she should be up. So when she heard a knock on her door, she felt confused as to who would show up that late.

When she opened the door, after hearing a few more knocks, some louder, some quiet, sporadic knocks, she froze. Of all the people she was expecting, it certainly wasn’t Song Eunseok.

“What are you doing here?” YN asked, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms.

“Hi,” Eunseok gave her a lazy smile, leaning against the doorframe. “I wanted to see you,” he laughed at himself.

YN could tell something was off. “Why?” she asked skeptically.

Eunseok put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, expression exaggerated and comical. “I dunno,” he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

It clicked. “Are you fucking drunk?” She asked in disbelief.

“Maybe,” He shrugged. “I had a few drinks,” he laughed at his words, leaning towards YN with a smile.

“So you’re drunk,” she shook her head. “And you came to my apartment… why?” she asked. She didn’t want Eunseok there. Though he spent plenty of time in her home, she had spent enough time trying to erase him from the living situation. She redecorated, rearranged furniture, wanting his memory gone from her space.

Eunseok took a step past her doorframe, wobbling lightly, causing YN to reach out and grab him to keep him up. He looked down at her, eyes wide, expression almost unreadable. She didn’t want to let him in, but she knew she’d rather him be safe than somewhere he could get hurt. She pulled him in further, closing the door behind them, as eunseok kept gazing down at her.

YN met his gaze, displeasure clear in her eyes. “Why are you here?” She asked again.

When he took a step towards her, she froze. When he dropped his head to rest against her shoulder, her eyes widened. His hands just held her arms.

“I miss you,”

As he spoke, YN felt like she couldn’t speak.

She stood there frozen, not knowing how to respond, not knowing what to do. All she knew was that this was wrong, that him being drunk changed nothing about where their relationship stood.

She pulled away, and placed her hands on his shoulders, creating a gap of space between them. When he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, she knew she needed to hurry things along.

“You should get some sleep,”

YN hadn’t expected the breakup.

It quite literally, came out of nowhere. There were no fights, no cause for concern in their relationship. Nothing. Just what she thought was a caring relationship.

So when Eunseok asked to breakup, it felt like there was something more that YN didn’t quite know about.

“Why?” she asked.

The way Eunseok shrugged casually bothered her. It was like he didn’t care enough to know why he wanted to break up. “We’re just… too different?” it sounded like a question more than a definite answer.

Sure, they had their differences. He liked going out more, she liked staying home some weekends. He liked big groups of people, she preferred small gatherings. Nothing huge, nothing that could ruin a relationship, and nothing that YN didn’t try to adapt to, to bridge any gap between them.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” YN looked down.

“I just need someone who can match my lifestyle.”

“You don’t think we should’ve talked about this beforehand?” She asked.

“I didn’t think you’d really get it-”

“Why wouldn’t I get it? I’ve adapted to fit more into your lifestyle, I just can’t be that all the time!”

“And that’s fine! It’s just a little-” he paused. There were so many words he could’ve chosen to describe how he felt about their relationship. “Boring.”

A beat of silence.

“So you’re saying I’m too Boring for you?” She asked.

Eunseok shrugged the same casual shrug. “I guess,”

YN shook her head, picking up her jacket from the couch. “You’re unbelievable,” She said as she walked out of his apartment, dropping her keyring on his counter, not even bothering to look back or say goodbye. There were no tears shed, no harsh words said back to him, she didn’t throw anything he had done back in his face. She just left.

Somehow, when she was gone, it only made him feel worse.

The next party Eunseok went to, he drank too much, claiming it was for his newfound bachelor status. His first time being single in five months, this was something to celebrate. But when he got back home, he realized he was just alone in his apartment. YN wasn’t waiting on the couch for him to get back. She wasn’t there to help his hangover, or kiss him goodnight when he refused to let go of her.

She wasn’t there.

Good.

That’s what he wanted.

Whatever.

YN stood in her kitchen as Eunseok slouched on her couch, thinking to herself about what she should do from here. She should kick him out- it’s what he deserved after what happened between them. He could find someone else to take care of him now.

But she knew that she wouldn’t have the strength to. Regardless of how upset she was, she wouldn’t leave him on his own while he clearly couldn’t be alone. So she sucked it up, walking out of the kitchen with a glass of water and ibuprofen for him to take. She set it on the coffee table in front of him, and walked to the lounge chair across from him. Eunseok just stared at her longingly, expecting her to come back and wrap her arms around him. He took a drink of water and swallowed down the pill, going back to looking at her with wide eyes.

“I was’at a party,” He slurred.

“I can tell,” YN leaned back against her seat.

“I drank too much,”

“I know,”

“I wanted t’see you,” He mumbled, leaning his head back against the cushions.

“Okay,” YN sighed, looking down at her lap.

“Do you miss me?” He asked, looking up with wide eyes.

YN sighed. “We broke up a while ago,” she shook her head.

“Yeah but… do you miss me?” he asked again. “I miss you,” He said once more. She didn’t respond. “I was with some other girls,” he added, drunkenly thinking he could make her jealous.

“I don’t care,” YN scoffed. She did care, but she didn’t want him to know. “Your drunken activities are none of my business anymore,”

Eunseok frowned. “Do you have a new boyfriend?” He asked.

YN didn’t know why, but she shook her head no. She saw the way a lazy smile crept onto his face. “You should sleep,” She said.

“M’not tired,” He groaned, eyes closing as he sighed.

“Well it’s late, and I want to sleep,” She dragged Eunseok up by his arm. “Sleep in the bed,” She pushed him towards her bedroom. Even if she didn’t particularly like him, she wanted him to be comfortable.

Eunseok stumbled to her bed with her help. YN followed and tidied a few things in the room. She left and came back in with a cup of water. “Drink this before you fall asleep.” she insisted. Eunseok chugged it down in one go. YN turned off the lamp by her bed, and headed for the door when she felt his hand grab her wrist.

She looked down to see him gazing up at her, almost pleadingly.

“Stay with me?” He asked, a bit pathetically.

“Eunseok,” She tried to loosen his grip, but he only held her tighter.

“Please,” he begged.

“We aren’t together,” She reminded him. “You’ll regret it in the morning,”

“No I won’t,” He sighed, pulling her to sit on the bed. “I won’t sleep unless you stay,” He pouted and YN rolled her eyes.

She debated with herself. She couldn’t deny the feelings that remained after their breakup, or the soft spot she had for him. So she stayed seated on the bed, and let his hand that held her wrist intertwine with her own hand. She didn’t look at him, only at the blankets on her bed, trying to stay strong against him.

Eunseok pulled her down next to him, and before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close to his body. He breathed her in, sighing as he pressed his forehead to the crown of her head.

“I miss you,” He whispered. “So much,” his breath sounded heavy. “I’m sorry,” she felt his lips brush her hair. “For the way I ended things, for not being a better boyfriend i-” he took in a breath. “I miss you. I miss you everyday, every moment, I miss you.”

YN wiggled away from him, looking up at him. She was at war with her head and her heart. She knew she should wait until he fell asleep and laugh as he did the walk of shame out of her apartment in the morning. But her heart- in her heart she couldn’t deny how much she wanted him to mean those words. How much she missed him too, how much this moment would mean to her if he was sober.

“I want you back,” He whispered, looking down at her. “I’ll do anything,”

YN knew the smart thing to do was wait. Wait for the morning so they could talk things out in a way that was good for both of them.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to brush his hair back. Eunseok just leaned into the touch.

There was silence, eunseok’s eyes growing tired as he looked at her. And after a moment, he leaned towards her and pressed a kiss to her lips. A sweet, soft kiss. Like the ones they’d share when they were together, the ones that secretly made his heart pound.

YN pulled away after a moment, and when Eunseok tried leaning back in, she pulled back more. Because regardless of how much she wanted to kiss him again, he was drunk. And she didn’t want to just be something he regretted in the morning.

“Get some sleep,” she whispered.

Eunseok eventually fell asleep, holding YN close, never wanting to let her go.

Eunseok woke up early, sitting up as his eyes blinked into focus. After a moment, he realized he wasn’t in his room. And after another moment, he realized he was in YN’s room. Her figure was turned away from him, and he gently removed his arm, and carefully got out of bed.

He remembered nothing, other than getting absurdly drunk. And somehow that ended up with him in his ex-girlfriend's apartment, cuddling her. Whatever happened while he was drunk, would be just that. Something that happened while he was drunk.

He looked back at her sleeping figure, and hesitated for a moment. She looked so peaceful. He shook himself back to reality, and crept out of her room. He fixed his hair, and smoothed out his shirt, telling himself to just move on, keep his head held high.

And so he did.

He walked out the door, not looking back, not saying goodbye or anything. Just walking away. It was what he did everytime, it was his routine. Walk out before things get messy.

Just like any other drunken mistake.

Haiiiii this has been in my drafts for a month or two now and I really wanted to post smth today while I work more on my smau :3

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[fruitmins]

Agust Dad—Four

➭ summary: Your a producer from another company that he happened to be collaborating with on his 2nd album D-2. At the release party— one drunk action leads to another, you do the worst thing you can do in the industry and change your fate forever.

➭genre: short series, pregnancy au, idol au, angst, dad au

➭warnings: a couple cuss words, mention of abortion

<next part>

note: this was supposed to be done yesterday, oopsies. Updated the tag list for everyone who wanted to be on it and some of them don’t work for some reason

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @tatyhend @jiminiesunicorn @littlestarstinyseven @baechugff @thelilbutifulthings @tearykth @familiarlikemymirror3 @coree730 @prajusstuff @wobblewobble822 @choisoorin @manuosorioh @0funsite0 @whipwhoops @bergandysam @aloverga @illnevertrustmyselfagain @silentreadersthings @butterymin @girl-nahh @linneasblog @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @chl0buggy @serendididy

A week later, Yoongi is at your house again. But this time it feels like a dream.

Unlike the last visits, there’s a nice and expensive car parked outside with tinted windows. And also unlike the last times, he attempts to cover up his face.

He has a mask under his chin with black sunglasses that matches the black beanie he has on to cover most of his hair.

You hate that he still looks nice.

You take your eyes out of the peephole and open the door to greet him face and to face. You also have glasses on the cover your eyes (and the black bags under them) and a mask.

“You didn’t have to walk me to the car..” You mumble as you step out and close the door behind you.

“In a neighborhood like this, and a porch like this...” his voice trails off as he glances around the outside of your house with a slight repulsed expression.

You roll your eyes as you step down the stairs and to his car, quickly pushing back the thought of him actually caring about you on the way down.

“The company hadn’t really blew up yet,” you say in response to his comment on your house. “Which is probably why they sold their souls to HYBE..” you remark in a low voice as you get into the passenger seat.

You hear Yoongi snicker at your comment as he gets in the drivers seat but doesn’t say anything else. It's only a few days since he first found out that the baby was his. In the subsequent days, you've spoken at length with him about the situation.

He let you know that he had done you the honors of canceling your original appointment and setting something up with a more professional and private hospital that worked with celebrities and idols. Even though he thought you would freak out about it, you didn’t. It just shows further that he seems committed to being involved in your baby's life, which is a relief but also makes you nervous.

The two of you show up at the clinic together, and it's the first time you've spent time one-on-one since you got pregnant. It's also the first time you've properly spoken, without the usual tension between you.

Yoongi walks alongside you, his expression soft and his gaze almost gentle but also serious.

The time passes in a flash, and before you know it, you're in the room, getting an ultrasound with Yoongi standing next to you, his eyes glued to the screen as the doctor goes about her work.

Your eyes are also glued to the screen. There’s no isn’t much on it, the baby being small and it doesn’t even look human. But you can’t help but get slightly emotional at the sight of it.

“Wow,” the doctor exclaims, taking off the stethoscope out of her ears and putting it on yours instead. The other end is pressed against your stomach, and your eyes widen when you hear a fast heartbeat in your ears.

It isn’t your heartbeat. It’s your baby’s.

Your glossy eyes trail over to Yoongi, listening to the heartbeat as the doctor pull as away to look at her clipboard. She writes something down and then takes the stethoscope out of your ears. “You wanna listen, dad?” She asks Yoongi, catching him off guard.

You can tell he is caught off guard, his eyes flicking to you and then to the doctor. He swallows a lump on his throat and silently walks over to you. The stethoscope slowly goes into his ears and you watch his body freeze as his dark brown eyes meet yours.

“Well, your baby is very healthy congratulations.” She starts off as you try to tear your eyes away from Yoongi’s. “And you’re due sometime in early or mid March.”

Her sentence damn near knocks the wind out of you. This time, Yoongi’s emotions are clear to you, his eyes widen slightly and filled with emotion. You can’t help but chuckle at the crazy circumstance.

Yoongi’s birthday was in March.

You weren’t planning to go back to work until the morning sickness died down, but you can’t help but feel a different sinking filling in your stomach when you stood outside of your bosses office after he called you in.

You take a breath and walk in the door, your feet immediately freezing when you see much more than your boss in the room.

Bang Si-Hyuk.

Hitman Bang.

This couldn’t be good.

“Ah, Ms Y/N. Please, sit down.” He says when he notices you, gesturing towards a chair by the table he was sitting out.

Cautiously, you make your way to a seat and sit down and just when your butt hits the chair, the door opens.

You grow pale when you glance up and see Yoongi walk into the room. He doesn’t notice you right away, but when he does he lets out a curse under his breath. “Shit.”

This definitely wasn’t good.

“Ah, Yoongi. Come sit.” Bang says, his smile only widening when he sees Yoongi. Yoongi goes to take a seat across from you but he doesn’t seem to be thrilled that he is here.

It’s quiet for a minute, Bang Si-Hyuk just looking back and forth at you and Yoongi, analyzing the two of you but you can’t even look at Yoongi. The tension between the three of you is almost palpable.

“Just curious, how do you two know each other?” He speaks after moment of silence that feels like years. You shift uncomfortably in your chair but can’t bring yourself to answer. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him as he talked.

Yoongi doesn’t bother saying either his gaze looking entirely unperturbed but even he can’t stare at his boss. He clearly anticipated that something like this would happen, and he's not ready to defend you just yet. It was like the two of you were caught kissing under the bleachers and were in the principals office.

“You must know each other well seeing as though Yoongi took you to a private doctor and stayed in there with you through the whole thing and then came out holding hands.” He speaks again in a daring and mocking tone but the two of you stay quiet, your heart thumping as he brings up the private doctor.

“Well, maybe the HYBE employee who saw you got it wrong. Maybe he was misunderstood the situation,” he says again, taking a pause as he leans closer to you. “Why were you there? Was it an abortion?”

You see Yoongi’s eyes snap up to his boss at the corner of your eye. His gaze hardens and he clenches his jaw. Si-Hyuk notices this as well and glances at you and then back at Yoongi with a dry chuckle.

He leans back and folds his arms, opening his mouth to say anything but you speak first before he can say anything else bold to provoke an answer out of Yoongi.

“It was my seven week ultrasound.” You sprout out, your eyes widening in shock as if you weren’t the one that said it.

It gets quiet again as Si-Hyuk slowly turns to look at you, looking amused as he lets out a long dramatic sigh. “Ms, are you aware that having relations with someone in the same company is not aloud?” He asks calmly and your eyes widen.

Your mortified. Panicked and scared. Your worst fear was coming to life. You were going to loose your job. As the reality of your situation starts to set in, your face heats up and you feel your heart in your throat. Si-Hyuk isn't kidding, and you're about to lose your job.

"Boss, I don't think you understand. It was a one-night thing–"

"A one-night thing that resulted in a baby." Si-Hyuk says in a clipped tone, cutting you off.

“Expect she wasn’t at the company when this happened.” Yoongi speaks up quickly for you, who is to busy panicking and frozen to point that out yourself.

“Still, no relations with one another are aloud here.” Si-Hyuk responds calmly to him.

“There is no relations.” Yoongi rebutted quickly and you can’t help but feel a sharp pain in your heart at his words, almost physically flinching back.

You don’t know why, put there’s a sting that washes over you at how fast he responded. How fast he denied having any connecting with you, days after he listened to the baby’s heart rate.

You know you’re sensitive, that maybe he was just trying to help keep your job. And you shouldn’t feel heartbroken but you do. And you hate that you do.

“Great, so you’ll have no problem with me firing her.” Si-Hyuk snaps you out of your trance, your face paling as your eyes widen.

Your eyes snap towards Yoongi in shock and you catch him get a glimpse at your mortified face as he shakes his head and cusses again. “Shit.”

“You know this isn’t fucking fair. There are laws. You can’t fire her over this.” He argues as Si-Hyuk basically laughs in his face.

“Watch me.” He says simply and you don’t know if you want Yoongi to keep defending you or want him to shut up instead. Before anyone can speak again Si-Hyuk turns towards you again. “Y/N, you’re fired. I expect your things to be cleared by tomorrow evening.”

Your mouth falls open in shock, and the color drains from your already pale face. Your heart thumps at his words, too stunned to speak as tears cloud your eyes, making your vision blur. “Wait, please-“ you try to plead in a panic.

You had just switched to this company and it was your only money source. You knew that being a solo producer was inconsistent and you were likely to get scammed by whoever you worked with.

“You’re dismissed.” He cuts you off quickly, gesturing to the door and your to stunned to speak more. You’re to shocked at everything that you can’t even peg for your job back. “Yoongi, I still have things to discuss with you.”

With a heavy breathing and a pained feeling in your chest, you slowly get up from the chair, bowing to him to side the tears in your eyes before quickly stumbling out of the door.

You can't believe that you just lost your job, all because of a mistake you made in a moment of weakness.

When you’re in the hallway you hear Yoongi start to yell at him but you can’t make out the words, you don’t want to know. You just want to get far away, and cry. All you wanted was for this day to go by normally, but instead you've been faced with the reality of your situation.

Your boss doesn't care.

Your future more uncertain than it was before.

You start to walk down the empty hallway, hugging your arms as tears fall uncontrollably as you let out a sniffle. The weight of someone’s hands on your shoulders snap you back to reality. When you turn around your face to face with Yoongi.

It’s Yoongi.

“Hey, I can try to change his mind or pull some strings—“ he tries to say but you just shrug his hand off your shoulder.

“Haven’t you done enough?” You snap at him with a harsh tone but it doesn’t even make him flinch. “I have nothing now. All because you wouldn’t leave me alone like I told you to.” You have tears in your eyes, because despite everything, you desperately wanted this to work. Because you desperately wanted everything to be okay.

“So just leave me alone now, please.” Your voice shakes and is filled with emotion. Your words seem to have the effect of taking Yoongi by surprise. His arms drop to his sides and his body language shifts, his focus turning inwards. You can almost see the thoughts racing across his head.

He looks like he wants to say something too, like he is carefully picking out his words before saying them. But you don’t want to hear anything he has to say. You don’t want to see him. You don’t want him to continuously make a mess of your life.

You know how whiny you should and that you should be grateful to have an idol who isn’t willing to leave you in the dust, but you can’t help but wish he had.

He pauses for a moment and lets out a sigh, before speaking. “I have a feeling that’s going to become impossible Y/N.” He states, much to your confusion.

“And why is that?” You ask him suspiciously as your cheeks start to dry up and you let out s sniffle.

“Bang what’s to get ahead of this before the media does,” he speaks cautiously and carefully, tip toeing around the point and that makes you even more anxious. “He isn’t going to use your name, but in case someone found out he didn’t want any trace of you at the company to avoid a scandal so he had to fire you—“

“Use my name for what?” You cut him off firmly, taking a step closer to him as you look at him straight in the eyes.

“I told him I want to be in the baby’s life,” your heart beats faster at his words. You were telling him to stay away after he just told his boss he wanted to be involved. He hasn’t cracked yet.

He continues, “So before anyone else can find out, he’s releasing a statement saying that I’ve been in a two year relationship and have a baby on the way.”

Great.

[chaoticneutralgood2627]

Advice to College Students (From someone who's trying to apply for a master's program)

Note that these are in no particular order and from my own particular experience. I will add if I think of more.

TAKE NOTES ON EVERYTHING, ESPECIALLY IF YOU FIND IT COOL: your brain will tell you 'I'll remember that fact, it's so neat!' Your brain is a BITCH. You will not remember SHIT. Take ALL the notes. If you can record your classes, even better!

Write down who your professors are for each class. Make a big document. All the years. Write them. Write down their vibes and if you like them. Write down what sort of assignments they gave. Because I'm over here trying desperately to remember which professors I had multiple classes with so I can beg them for recommendations.

Save your assignments. Even if they're horribly cringey. You can use this to gauge how far you've come. I know it hurts your soul. I have fanfic from when I was 12. Do it anyway.

When they tell you the grad school shit, pay attention. Even if you don't plan to go back to school. Because I didn't listen and now I have changed my mind and I have no recollection of that section of school.

Networking. Gather contacts from your classmates. If for no other reason than because you think they're intimidating and you don't want your LinkedIn to look depressing. They're probably just as intimidated by you. And if not, you can pretend they are.

College is not high school. Next to no one has friends at first. Everyone is a disaster. Talk to people. You might not find Your People in your first friend group. That's fine. There are people there somewhere that can make life less awful. The worst they can say is no, you can't be friends with us (and most people aren't that bitchy). The universe is big and no one is judging you harder than you are.

It's not that friends Can't Live Together, it's that people have different organization styles and needs for survival and sometimes those Do Not Mesh. If you're going to live with someone, make sure that you have talked about things.

Everything can go on a resume if you word it right. Editing a friend's paper? Congrats, you have editing and tutoring experience. Playing DND on weekends? Cooperation and teambuilding to work towards a common goal, sometimes in the face of creative differences (your friends want to Fight Everything and you want to Stay Alive (or reversed)). EVERYTHING CAN GO ON A RESUME.

There are so many resources on campus. Use them, for the love of god because then you're going to be an adultier adult and realize that there is not a med center right across the campus.

Find what motivates you. Mine is spite, I am applying to grad school to get out of retail and to spite 2 specific supervisors. Cling to that when you want to drop out and quit.

There is not a specific route to take in college. Or out of college. Listen to yourself rather than everyone's advice (I am aware that this is ironic to be on an advice post).

If you think you can wake up at 9 after like 4 hours of sleep, that is the devil talking to you. Go to bed.

On the same note. I am aware that you woke up at like 5 for high school. You will not want to exist before noon. 8 am classes are not illegal, but they should be.

Take care of yourself. You're paying a shit ton of money to be there, you can take an hour to eat the food. Plus, if you take care of yourself, then you will work better.

There will be weird shit happening all over. Just roll with it. Unless it's hurting someone or has the potential to hurt someone (my one friend got stalked).

You are not required to stay somewhere social if it's creeping you the fuck out or if you aren't comfy. I think I went to a single party in my entire college life and I hid in the corner with their illegal kitten the whole time.

Speaking of illegal kittens. If you know someone has an illegal kitten, no the fuck you do not. There probably will be at least one. And you do not know about it.

[beanghostprincess]

there's just something so inherently poetic and romantic about zoro's devotion to luffy during all of wano that makes me go completely insane.

he sees luffy for the first time in like a week, which might not seem much but for them, who are used to feeling each other's presence all the time and did not have a good experience with being separated, it's torture to not be together. so of course they go all happy, kicking their feet and blushing when they reunite. then his captain is like "hey, this is tama. tama is our friend now" and zoro takes it extremely seriously and protects that random kid he has no connection to because luffy says so and, well, because she's just a kid and everything, but still i think zoro instantly accepting to adopt tama is really cute.

zoro acts like luffy's enabler during this arc, because his captain might do the most impulsive and reckless shit, and the dude will support him to death. even when he's just competing against kid and law to see who's stronger (or the dumbest), luffy is the most serious he's ever been here. of course, zoro has some moments of "okay, gotta stop this idiot" but it turns out zoro is fucking stupid too, and getting into a fight in the middle of a party while you look for your captain is just,,, so them.

and all of this is just silly moments that make you think "oh, okay, zoro is whipped, yes. we already knew that". but then he pulls the most romantic and poetic things we've ever witnessed in anime history and honestly, i fucking lose it every time he does things like this.

drake goes to them and asks if he can be on their side (btw dude could have just told luffy he knew koby somehow but okay) and zoro instantly goes 'protective first mate' mode and says "haha no the fuck you're not. disloyal people are the worst and you'll always be like that. once you betray someone there's no going back" which is something i love about zoro because, even if from his perspective drake was actually a member of kaido's crew and they're supposed to be the bad guys, zoro respects loyalty so fucking much that he doesn't care whose side are you on as long as you have your priorities and beliefs on the right place. i find that beautiful, especially knowing what comes next.

zoro is gifted a sword that theoretically could cut hell, to then being then perceived as the king of hell for the same reason, and then actually going to the battlefield and referring to it as hell itself because they're fighting to death against two emperors and saying "if you're sending our captain to hell, you'll have to take me with him" because he would quite literally go to hell for luffy. and then the guy goes and tells law "hey, this is going to hurt like a bitch and i might probably die. if that happens, you know, just take care of the rest because luffy trusts you too" and he goes and awakens his conqueror's haki without even meaning to and not even giving a single fuck when kaido tells him because his only ambition and will at the moment is protecting luffy and fighting for him. that, and also the countless times he saves luffy without hesitation during this fight, which are too much to remember but i swear every time he gets in between one of kaido's attacks and luffy, my heart does a backflip and i die. and also, the gentleness in which zoro treats luffy when he can't fight. the way he protects him when luffy puts all of his undying trust on zoro. they make me go wild.

the fact that luffy is constantly saying in this fight (and always, of course) that he's going to be the pirate king and showing it clearly with all of his parallelisms to roger, and then zoro pulling things that make him quite obviously the king of hell, just makes the whole "captain and first mate" thing seem so little for what they actually are. because we have 3 different couples of this kind in this story, and nobody compares to these two, because they're not just a captain and his first mate, they're literally kings. and i haven't watched more (i'm on episode 1030 if you're curious, uta time!) but i'm so excited to see how this develops. especially knowing the religious undertones behind whatever the fuck gear fifth is supposed to be (except for a lil cute and powerful af looney tune).

[superkooku]

Dionysus' iceberg

This post is what remains of an initially very long rant idea. That means there will probably be a part 2 😏.

Here's the reason for my title :

In theory, you can stop there since my meme pretty much summarizes my complaints. But since I like ranting, I'll continue 😈

The tip of the iceberg

When you think "Dionysus", which words come in mind first ?

Probably "wine", "party", "alcohol" "fun god".

These words are what most people remember about Dionysus. And yes, I'm not going to deny, they fit.

Unfortunately, my problem comes with the fact that 9.5 times out of 10, Dionysus' personality will exclusively revolve around these aspects.

Since the issue is about modern adaptations and perceptions, I'll use a modern term.

I'm sure most of you are familiar with flanderization, right ? If not, the link to TV Tropes' article on the subject is available.

Many adaptations fell into that trap for, I think, every single Olympian.

Hades, god of the dead, lord of the Underworld = Satan, evil death god, darkness and sorrow

Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty = Superficial bimbo who only cares about her pretty face

Zeus, king of the gods, lord of the sky and thunder = 100% pure God OR more recently : evil king god who constantly abuses women.

The gods are stripped of their complexity to fit simpler and more "digestible" characterizations. It doesn't help that the cultural context surrounding them is also taken away...

But this is about grape boi, right? Well, Dionysus is no exception to that rule. In fact, he might be one of the worst cases.

So far, he was never really portrayed in an "insulting" light, like Apollo in Lore Olympus or Hades in the Percy Jackson movie. Fortunately.

But, from all the popular adaptations I've seen, none of them manage to portray Dionysus ! None ! Does that make them automatically bad ? No, of course. It's just something I noticed.

God of war ? Doesn't appear, only mentioned

Disney ? Don't even try 🤣. Just a drunk goofball. Yes, that includes the fantasia segment and Hercules.

Lore Olympus? Well, he's a baby for 99.99999% of the time, so it doesn't count. But he's still a quiet little Gucci bag for Persephone.

Hades I ? Just a nice guy. But hey ! He can give us useful boons ! And I like his sass.

Maybe he'll do more in Hades II. They're usually more accurate than most, right ? Though that's not a very high bar. And they know about Zagreus ! Surely that's a good sign, right ?

Nevermind...

Here's what all these adaptations tell us :

Dionysus is the god of wine, feasts and parties

He's an Olympian

He likes to get drunk and party 🥳

And that's it.

Again, I'm not blaming anyone, but if the myths stopped with those three points, wouldn't everyone wonder why he's even an Olympian ? I sure did when I was a kid.

We have the god of thunder, the goddess of wisdom and war strategy, god of music/arts/medicine/100 other things, the god of the oceans ! Many cool gods !

And some drunk dude. He's not given any particular power, except the power to stay super passive no matter the stakes ! If the story revolves about epic godly fights (which is often the case), he's absolutely useless.

Heck, Hades II even actively depicts him as a pacifist who can't handle war. While he's not physically a weakling, he sure psychologically is.

Why is this a problem ?

I am not going to beat around the bush: this gives us a very incomplete and incorrect perception of the god.

Even the things that aren't forgotten about him (like his link to wine) aren't explored.

The thing with Hades II (that's the last time I'll mention it) is that it tries to deepen the flanderized version of Dionysus. He's not stupid, but afraid. He drinks to forget his issues.

While this characterization can be very interesting taken separately, we must remember that this isn't an OC, but an interpretation of a cultural figure.

It must be accurate ! While I can accept some liberties, I think that those should mostly be an extension of the original material, not a total deviation.

Dionysus isn't a scared little boi or a stupid drunkard you can manipulate. In fact, that's quite the opposite. And he's not afraid to get his hands dirty.

(even if the "dirt" in question is the blood of his enemies).

Under the surface

Though it's rather "stuff you can find on Wikipedia". Or by reading the myths.

More about it in part 2 of the rant...

It'll be about theater, madness, travels, link between mortality and immortality and... pirates turning into dolphins.

The actual interesting stuff about Dionysus.

Edits :

1. Thanks to @st4riel-the-w1tchling for clarifying the situation about Percy Jackson. I made my own research about BoZ. My opinion is basically still the same. Again, nothing terribly offensive, but nothing that interesting for Dionysus either.

2. I made part 2 a while ago, might as well add it here :

[windvexer]

O ye wise Chicken

I call to thee

For advice on a matter

Harken to me!

So anyways, I have always had incredible luck, my partner on the other hand… let’s say that it’s not the worst in the universe. If you were trying to turn someone’s luck around, who was almost radioactively unlucky, how would you go about it? Thank you for your time and for answering all of our questions, oh wise Chicken! 🙌🏻

Good evening.

For any magical operation where some concept is out-of-order (luck, prosperity, relationships, etc) it's not always helpful to just add in more of the concept (conjure luck, conjure relationships, and so on).

Absence-of-concept is only ever one reason for things to be out of order, and it may be a symptom rather than a cause itself. There are many reasons why any particular concept could be malfunctioning.

Therefore, you've got two options: figure out what is causing the malfunction and then address it, or go in blind with a broad spectrum plan of action.

Divination, probably especially energy reading, can pinpoint why luck is out-of-order. However this may be a tricky read to tackle, and also requires the skill to make a custom plan of action. Also, exploring and thinking is tiring, and it can be easier to just take action.

Any time something is out-of-order - luck, job, relationships, timing, what have you - try a plan of action similar to this one, and see if it helps. You should take careful notes of all the actions you take, because if it doesn't help, you will need those notes to help troubleshoot.

First, an offering to the spirit world. The function is to please helpful spirits and stir them to action; but also to appease unhelpful spirits who may be causing trouble. This offering may be done once, but the ritual should be undertaken seriously, with as pleasing of gifts as can be reasonably offered. Jason Miller has a nice general offering in his book Protection and Reversal Magick, which is a good format to follow.

No matter what ritual you follow, it is vital to include a portion that explains this offering is being done out of respect to the spirit world, to soothe any tensions, and to supplicate aid from any helpful parties.

Second, a personal cleansing and hex-breaking. A person does not need to have actually been hexed or cursed to benefit from hex-breaking. Find or develop a spell which breaks up, destroys, banishes, or evacuates jealous and deleterious energies from around the unlucky person. In fact, any spell to break the evil eye will likely serve. Perform a personal cleansing before or after (or both) to wash off any last trace of jealousy cast on by another.

Third, a personal amulet generally designed to protect against the evil eye (for some reason I suppose I think this is an evil eye situation), but also against bad luck in general: have it rebuff or turn away these things, sort of like a bumper that will bounce your unlucky person off of misfortune and steer them in a new direction.

(For those not dealing with luck, protect against whatever it is you want to stop - protect against loneliness, for example. Envision that you do not have absence of friendship energy but rather intrusion of aloneness energy. This is not necessarily literal, but it is a thought exercise to help develop strategic plans of action and deploy magic in a greater variety of ways)

Fourth, any spell to conjure what is desired. So for your unlucky partner, any spell to conjure or manifest luck. This can be done either as a one-off spell, or something continuous; if you want to do more magic, then do both. A one-shot spell to get things started and a continuous spell to carry the torch. Explore Allspice for luck spells, as well as any cultural luck charms.

Fifth, engage in cultural rituals to bring about what you desire. For luck, a lucky rabbit's foot, found dimes, numerical clovers, or hung horseshoes are all cultural symbols in these parts; choose one, and invest in it. This is a different kind of magic - folk magic, if you like - that's more about linking and aligning to the whole.

Someone radioactively unlucky is, perhaps, unplugged from the whole. The natural exchange passes around them without touching them. A cultural ritual is an action of reconnection, to indicate they are stepping back into the game. At least, this is what I think.

Anyway if this is all too much, I highly recommend that you, Anon, do not skip #2. Throw in a protection amulet and I expect things might level out.

[xjulixred45x]

The Collector(The Owl House) and Platonic! Reader...

but with a small detail.

Reader has a complicated family life, she comes from a family where she is constantly neglected (either due to family problems or simply her parents are like the Blights, too focused on their reputations to give her adequate attention) and that makes her a very dependent girl of her imagination but also quite lonely.

I think it would be especially sad if we are talking about a Blight Reader. since she sees her sibilings having interactions and friends while she cannot join because she is smaller and has problems socializing (': adding to that that she is too young for Odalia to give her a decent "use" to give her attention and Alador...it's Alador.

Imagine that JUST WHEN IT LOOKS LIKE THE END OF THE WORLD is when Reader ends up having something like a "friend."

If we go with the Blight reader, it is much more obvious how the reader and The Collector met, Odalia serving as his "mom" WOULD HAVE THE NERVE to offer the reader as a better playmate (trying to have favoritism) and leaves the reader reader alone with this child with god-like powers.

Now, reader didn't expect the collector to be so...innocent, he acted like a child her age, MAXIMUN. Besides that he was really interested in the game ideas she had to offer. For this reader to hear that someone is even willing to listen to what she wants to say is a MIRACLE, but putting it into practice and encouraging it? is this a dream?

They are both children extremely deprived of touch and interaction for a long time, so surprisingly, the reader ended up really enjoying her stay in the Archives with the collector and King, whether playing "the owl house" all together, board games that the reader invention, flying on the little flying stars, etc.

The reader definitely had a change of look just like King and Odalia, with a star-studded outfit and everything, although I think the collector lets her personalize it. and he definitely won't let Odalia intervene in the reader's clothes, with the excuse that her "suggestions" are too boring.

Tea parties with puppets! Yes, it's a bit creepy, but hey, they're better off there than down there with Belos (after what the reader secretly heard from her sister, he sounds like a bad guy). apart from the fact that low gravity is fun.

I think that one of the games that they could play the most could be a slightly more extreme version of "rescue the princess" where either a reader or a puppet is the "damsel in distress", King is the great Dragon and the Collector/reader are the knights. Don't worry though! Even if reader is who has to be the lady in distress, she will not be in real danger.

Although if the reader gets hurt (whether from playing or simply due to clumsiness) it means a DAY FREE FROM GAMES for everyone. Although they also play doctor and take care of the reader, maybe they play board games to avoid getting bored.

The Collector definitely feels jealous when Odalia tries to talk to the reader for any reason (probably to have a better position), and sometimes that causes him to give her more work like arranging the puppets they use when they play The Owl House (ironically this could make Odalia see what a bad mother she is being when she sees that a mini space god is better at her job than her).

Now there is no limit to the reader's creativity, no matter how silly or strange the idea for the new game is, he wants to hear it! He always has something positive to get out of even the "worst" ideas (for him that doesn't exist).

Sometimes he has trouble understanding which reader has to sleep and rest more than him and King, but they explain it to him with apples and pears and he more or less understands the concept of three meals a day and 8 hours of sleep (that was how easy it was, how difficult it was for King to explain to TWO CHILDREN why the reader SHOULD NOT eat only sweets).

I imagine that the reader sleeps in the same "room" as the Collector and King, in an extra bed and her own accessories. Maybe the reader even has stuffed animals of abominations (that remind her a little of her family) that she lends time to time to Collie (did you think she wouldn't use that nickname? ha) sometimes keeps them for herself because she's nostalgic, other times she's detached or even angry and gives them to him for several nights.

I can definitely see the Collector being pretty angry at the Blight siblings if he had gotten to know them in a different context, like "how dare you make my best friend CRY?" and it would definitely require a lot of hard work from King and the reader together so that he wouldn't "break" them out of rage.

King knows there's not much point in trying to convince the reader to help him in his plan against the collector, he understands where she's coming from, having someone who takes her seriously and motivates her is a dream come true! It is thanks to this that he sees the Collector more as a sad child and not as someone so terrifying..

After "Raine" lies to the Collector about King wanting to hurt him, he most likely also becomes clingier with the reader (and slightly more protective).

I can even see the reader teaming up with him when they play their "favorite games" against Eda, Luz and King, even if they coordinate well they can't help but lose in one way or another😅

The reader definitely empathizes a lot with the collector when he tells his story and how his brothers simply put him aside, causing him to be imprisoned, but she also begins to reflect and realize that, well, not everything is a game, but she wants them to be friends.

After the events of the season finale, you can be sure that the reader's family is trying SO hard to make up for the damage done (especially Amity and Alador) and that they are not so sure how to feel about the baby of the house being lost. she made friends with an almost god😅

Collie, now being PAINFULLY aware of the reader's mortality, is much gentler with the games when he comes to visit (especially because, well, you know, getting hurt when you're little isn't the same as when you're big) and in general they grow up. together to learn to accept more friends whenever they are:'3

AHHGGG I NEEDED THIS. Maybe I'll do a version with a father/mother! reader, we'll see.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[sylver-drawer]

I think the worst part about the tea party scene where random noblewomen accuse Jen of having incestuous feelings, and Athy doesn’t even try to defend her, is that Athy knows Jen can’t defend herself. She knows that Jennette knows she isn’t actually Ijekiel’s cousin or a relative for that matter, so her feelings are acceptable.

But to reveal that would mean revealing she’s royalty, so Athy knows that Jennette has two options—admitting she’s not related to Ijekiel, or accepting the incest allegations. Athy expecting Jennette to defend herself as ‘the original female lead who was going to deal with this anyway’ is also absolute bull, knowing Jennette never had to go through this harassment and defamation because she was revealed as Claude’s daughter immediately. Jennette never had to defend herself because she never needed to, people already knew she wasn’t related to Ijekiel. But Athy’s whole presence and changing the original story means this never happens, and Jennette’s pure love that was always honest and true has been slandered and dirtied by strangers Athy herself invited to her own tea party. They’re not even given names. Unlike ‘Lily Girl’ or ‘Hari’ who Athy supposedly befriends, the girls who jump on the wagon and dissect Jennette and her feelings for Ijekiel aren’t even given names or faces. Nameless, unneeded, if only to target and offend the discarded female lead.

Athy trying to justify her complicity in this targeted harassment as some kind of obstacle the female lead has to go through in the future anyway, even going so far as to basically insinuate she’s doing Jennette a favor by letting Jennette clear her name now, is such a horrible thing to do knowing she never would’ve been subjected to this had she—in her point of view—never taken Jennette’s place. Hell, Jennette probably wouldn’t have been in this situation if it weren’t for the guests she herself invited. The whole reason she’s going through this is because Athy became the ‘female lead’, and her insinuating she’s doing Jennette a favor by subjecting her to torment she never would’ve been subjected to originally is utterly disgusting and disappointing.

And at this point, Athy is Jennette’s friend. Athy doesn’t think so, but by god, has she convinced at least Jennette that she cares about her that way. Athy has long realized Claude would never accept Jennette, and has long passed fearing for her life, which has resulted in her undeniably comfortable relationship with Jennette. In her head, Athy constantly claims to put Jennette at arms length and to not get close to Jennette—but narratively and in Jennette’s point of view, Athy has been sneaking out of the castle to spend time with her one-on-one, taken her out to see sights she’s never seen before, been a source of comfort for her, as well as always knowing what to say to affirm her feelings when she starts doubting them. Athy can claim it all she wants in her head, but her actions show so much more than things she’s never acknowledged out loud. If in the manhwa Jennette sees Athy as her little sister who she longs to be with and protect, to the Jennette of the novel Athy is the protective figure instead. So when she is vulnerable, placed in a situation at her beloved elder sister’s tea party and a group of her sister’s guests start digging deep into a secret she hasn’t even thought of revealing yet—Athy does nothing but sip her tea nonchalantly. And she can’t dare reveal it now—not there—not with Athy listening and at an event her Athy is hosting. So if Lucas had not interrupted when he did, shaking up the tea party’s mood completely and unintentionally putting the attention and subject off of her to where they all forget what they were doing, Jennette would’ve been screwed.

Because Jennette would be forced to affirm that she has feelings for her ‘cousin’ knowing that’s false, and that Athy was the one who backed her into that corner.

And what’s worse in all of this, after Jennette leaves and the girls go back to the conversational topic of Ijekiel’s romantic feelings, that’s when Athy decides it’s time to speak up. Not when her friend was placed in an uncomfortable situation by her guests at her party concerning her friend’s reputation, but when the topic directly involves her and her reputation. So quickly does she rebuke any rumors concerning her and Ijekiel—and how quickly she resolves to turning a blind eye to any rumors or scandal that would become of this tea party as a result of her ‘giving Jennette an opportunity to defend herself’. It was only two years prior when Athy was swearing like a sailor while beating up men who were creeping on Jennette. Now, she won’t speak a word to defend her.

[pennamenotfound]

I feel like one of the reasons that the Bells Hells are so interesting and compelling to me is that they’re all so angry. Anger is so interesting to me because of its volatility. The way it can, more than any other emotion, be twisted. Think of how much more volatile Percy was in campaign one because of his revenge boner than Caleb in campaign two with his deepset guilt and grief.  

And like, sure, we had anger before in the other campaigns.

Like Percy was super angry obviously, and Vex had her rage, and Scanlan had his moment (what’s my mother’s name) in Campaign one, and you could probably pull moments for the rest of Vox Machina. Grog’s a barbarian, he rages all the time. Plus with his herd. Okay, sure. Vax certainly had his moments. Keyleth at Raishan. (I don’t think Pike realy had any real anger moments in her arc.) But their stories don’t rely on their anger as much as Percy and Vex, and not nearly as much as Bells Hells. 

In the Mighty Nein, there’s Beau who is super angry at the world, justifiably so, but the rest of the party not so much. Caleb and Yasha are guilt and grief. Cad’s faith. Jester definitely had her problems with emotion, but anger wasn’t really part of it so much as learning to let herself feel something other than happy. Fjord’s journey to Melora was much more about introspection, Veth’s journey back to herself was certainly emotionally taxing for her, but it’s back to greif and loss for her. Kingsley is all about discovery, and Essek was about finding friendship. 

But Bells Hells. They’re all so angry. With maybe the exception of Chetney, but he’s also a werewolf which is its own sort of instability. 

Ashton’s a given---Tal’s so good at anger in his characters. Perfect punk, angry at the world, angry at their situation. *chef’s kiss* perfect barbarian

Imogen has such rage bubbling. “We’re gonna sunder you, Delilah Briarwood” for one, but also, with her mother. With her powers. 

Fearne with her parents. The way she was discovering her anger had so much potential, and I really wanted to see her actually throw some fireballs or something.

Orym. I saw the look on Liam’s face when he had that insight check whisper from Tuldus. Dude, Otohan and the Ruby Vanguard killed his husband and his dad (I know, father in law, but Orym says dad.) He’s the nice one, he’s said it before himself, but... under the surface, i think he’s got some rage in him. 

FCG. Oh, FCG, with their unpredictable rage mode. Trying so desperately to be the caretaker when they don’t even know what they are. The professor in Yios gave him a lot of good information, but there’s a lot they don’t know. 

For me, with FCG and Orym both, it’s a lot of aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to go apeshit?

And then Laudna. Laudna, with the most to be angry about. She was murdered by the Briarwoods, and spent the next thirty years with her murderer in her head. Looking like a corpse. Not knowing if she was dead or alive. Being chased out of towns all over Tal’Dorei until she ran all the way to Marquet. No friends, even before she died, before Imogen. And she’s really the most interesting to me. Because we don’t see a lot of rage with her. Even with Percy in Whitestone, it’s forgiveness. It’s understanding. The only time I remember in the campaign her really being angry was when FCG turned on the party that time, and that was related to Delilah’s manipulations. 

Orym said once something like she had the worst thing out of all of them happen, and yet she’s the happiest, and how is that? And she goes, well, because the worst thing that’s happened to me already happened. 

And it’s so interesting to me because we could, in another universe, have another Ashton in Laudna. Because, really, very similar things happened to them. Both died. Both put back together not quite right, not quite in control of their situation. Feared, even. 

But she’s so loving, caring, and not wrathful, and honestly, I’d kind of love to see some anger from her. And I think we might see it if Imogen gets hurt.

Anyway i’m unhinged about bells hells. I love vox machina and mighty nein but I’ve connected most to bells hells because I’ve been watching CR since CR3 started, and I love my angy bois.