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svtiddiess · 2 days ago

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Sex Education

Synopsis: In all your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?

Pairing: loser!virgin!med student!Mingyu x afab!med student!reader

Genre: smut, slight crack, one shot, med school! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: pet names (puppy), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, size kink, choking, loss of virginity, sub!Gyu, big dick!Gyu, loser!Gyu, riding, masturbation, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Thank you so much for helping me with the synopsis my twin @tomodachiii! As promised, here's sub!Gyu.

Thank you so much to @onlymingyus for beta reading!

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Mingyu.

That's the only thing on your mind right now—nothing else, just Mingyu. You should probably be paying attention to the lesson, but how could you, with the hot nerd sitting right within your line of sight? Okay, maybe you chose this seat specifically so you could look at him without getting caught, but still! He’s a distraction you’re more than happy to have.

You rest your chin in your hand, sighing as your eyes trace over his figure. He’s built like a Greek god—strong, tall, with perfectly styled black hair, and his large square glasses barely hide his handsome, tan face. Oh, what you’d give just to see him without those glasses on.

You’ve known Mingyu since middle school. You never really interacted, but you definitely noticed him around. Back in school, he was known as the nerdy kid with glasses and a scrawny, lanky frame to match. Shy and awkward, he was an easy target for bullies. But over the years, his muscle mass increased, and his frame filled out. It seems he’s been putting in serious hours at the gym, and it’s definitely paid off.

Although he’s the most handsome guy in med school, he’s still incredibly shy and reserved, keeping his circle small and close-knit. Despite numerous people, especially girls, trying to get closer to him, he just pushes them away. That’s why, despite your massive crush, you haven’t made a move. You’re too scared he’ll shut you out and avoid you for good.

You can't help but bite your bottom lip and squeeze your thighs together as you rake your eyes over his bulging biceps, his shirt barely able to contain the muscle. Just one chokehold; one chokehold is all you're asking for, really. You sigh once again, knowing that you'll never be able to have him.

Your train of unholy thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of your professor calling your name. Startled, you sit up and look towards him.

"Miss Y/N, are you even paying attention?" Prof. Choi huffs, crossing his arms.

"Of course I am, professor," you reply, flashing the sweetest smile you can manage.

"Then, for the third time, please answer the question on the board," he says, gesturing to the problem.

"Uh…" you trail off, completely lost.

Prof. Choi sighs and tells you to see him after class, to which you reluctantly agree. You sink into your chair, dreading what’s to come. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and shifted your gaze back to Mingyu, watching in awe as he effortlessly answered the very question you stumbled over. Tall, muscular, hot, and smart—he really is the perfect guy.

You grumble as Prof. Choi calls your name, sabotaging your plan to slip out of class. Sighing, you drag yourself over to his desk, only to be surprised when Mingyu joins you. You glance between Mingyu and Prof. Choi, waiting for an explanation.

"Y/N, I’ll get straight to the point—you’re failing this class," Prof. Choi says. "At this rate, I’m not sure you'll be able to move on to the next year."

Well, it’s not your fault that a hot distraction named Kim Mingyu exists.

"That’s why I’ve assigned Mingyu here as your tutor to help you pass," he says, nodding toward Mingyu.

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to suppress a smile. Mingyu tutoring you? Spending time alone with him? This feels like a dream come true. You silently thank both Prof. Choi and the heavens for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Mingyu gives you a shy smile. "I hope we can get along well," he says, extending his hand.

You gratefully take it, noticing the blush coloring his cheeks.

"Please take good care of me, Mingyu," you say, beaming, already looking forward to your tutoring sessions.

You smooth out your skirt one last time before opening the door for Mingyu. You made sure to wear your sluttiest outfit today. After insisting that your brain works better when you study in your room, Mingyu shyly agreed to hold the tutoring sessions there.

You smile and step aside to let him in, watching as he sheepishly steps into your house. Making sure your ass is sticking out, you made him follow you upstairs to your room.

You sat down on your bed, subtly raising your skirt, and gestured for Mingyu to take a seat next to you. He awkwardly took his seat and started pulling out his notes.

He keeps his eyes on his notes as he starts explaining today’s lesson—something about the Krebs cycle, though you’re not really listening. You’re too busy admiring his handsome face. You twirl a strand of hair and blink sweetly as you ask (hopefully relevant) questions, but he barely glances at you while answering.

After what feels like hours of studying (it’s been 30 minutes), you whine and beg him for a break, and he blushes as he agrees.

"Would you like some snacks? Or maybe water or juice?" you ask, perking up.

"Just a glass of water is fine," he mumbles, still focused on his notes.

You nod and grab a glass of water for him and a snack for yourself. Returning, you hand him the water with a smile, which he accepts with a quiet “thank you,” while you peel your banana for your snack.

You lick the tip of the banana before biting down on it, smirking when you see Mingyu gulping at your actions. Noticing you looking at him, he blushes and quickly averts his gaze.

"Want a bite?" You offer him with a sultry smirk.

"N-No, thank you," he mumbles, his ears turning red.

You giggle as you finish your banana and scoot a little closer, prompting him to continue the lesson. But he’s a stuttering mess, tripping over his words and repeatedly asking for more water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

After stuttering his way through, Mingyu finally managed to finish the lesson. Sore from having hunched over, you stretch, not so subtly pressing your chest against his arm. Mingyu flushes, quickly gathering his notes and mumbling something about being late for a gaming session with Wonwoo.

You see him out, throwing in a wink and waving goodbye. You watch as he stumbles a bit while getting onto his Vespa and driving off. Chuckling to yourself, you can't help but smile at how cute he is.

The rest of the tutoring sessions go the same way: you not-so-subtly flirt with Mingyu, while he either purposely ignores it or remains completely oblivious. You even try to out-slut your outfits with every tutoring session, but nothing seems to work.

One night, after yet another session, you lie in bed, frustrated that Mingyu isn’t picking up on your very obvious hints. Who knew the loser nerd would actually turn out to be a huge loser? You sigh, but him being a huge loser is what you find most endearing about him.

You bite your lip, remembering what he wore today—a black polo that stretched perfectly over his muscles, jeans that hugged his thighs just right, and of course, those thick black frames.

You can't help but sneak your hand down your torso as you remember how his arm felt pressed against your boobs. They felt so strong and firm, you bet that he could easily carry you and fuck you mid-air.

You shiver as your hand sneaks under your panties. You circle your pussy, collecting your arousal before pushing a finger into your hole, sighing at the slight stretch. You moan at the thought of Mingyu's fingers being way bigger than yours. His fingers would stretch you out so well before he finally fucks you with his huge cock.

You insert another finger and start thrusting your fingers, moaning out Mingyu's name. You imagine him hovering over you as he relentlessly thrusts into you, groaning your name right beside your ear. He'd growl as your fingers rake his back, leaving angry red marks. You'd wrap your legs around his hips and push him in deeper, making him breed you.

Your other hand circles your clit as you feel yourself getting to the edge. You imagine him thrusting from behind as his large bicep chokes you, putting just enough pressure to heighten the pleasure. He'd whimper and moan in your ear, letting you know how good you feel wrapped around him. He'd fill you up with his cum, again and again, and again, until the sheets underneath you are soaked with your mixed fluids.

Your breath hitches as you cum, whispering his name like a prayer, hoping that if you say it enough times, he’ll appear before you and make your dreams come true.

But he doesn't, and you're left lying in bed, sticky, sweaty, and alone.

You yawn for the umpteenth time as Mingyu drones on about anatomy; you're sure your brain has shut down by now. You sigh as you lean back onto the bed, too tired even to sit up.

"Mingyu, can we please take a break? I don't think my brain can take any more of this," you groan, resting your arm over your eyes.

"U-Uh, yeah, sure," Mingyu mumbles, fiddling with his notes. "We could always switch to a different topic if you want a change of pace…"

"What's the next topic?"

"The reproductive system."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk paints your face as an idea pops into your head. You sit up and grin at Mingyu.

"Sure, let's learn about the reproductive system."

Happy that you're finally interested in a topic, Mingyu gathers his notes and starts to explain. After about 15 minutes of explanation, you put your hand over his and gently push away his notes.

"Mingyu, I don’t understand the topic at all," you say with a pout, shifting to sit directly in front of him. His face turns bright red, clearly flustered. "I think it would help if we put the theory into practice so I can learn better," you purr.

Mingyu stumbles over his words, stuttering, his brain clearly short-circuiting. You giggle at his flustered state and shift to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of him.

"Will you let me use you to put the theory into practice, Mingyu?" you ask, tilting your head with a pout as you gently cup his face.

"I-I’m not sure h-how…" Mingyu stammers, swallowing hard.

"Oh, you poor thing," you coo. "It's okay, I'll guide you, puppy. Will you let me?"

He licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath before giving a small nod.

"Don't worry, puppy, I'll make sure to take good care of you," you hum as you gently remove his glasses.

He blinks and looks up at you, lips parted and cheeks flushed. You take a moment to admire his handsome face without the glasses. Cupping his face, your eyes trace over his features—his strong jawline, his parted lips, and the small mole on the tip of his nose. Unable to resist, you lean in and place a gentle kiss there, making him shiver.

"Can I kiss you, puppy?" You whisper.

"P-Please," he whimpers, and you can't help but smile over how pathetic he sounds.

You lean in and press your lips against his, and he kisses back desperately, hungry for your lips. You chuckle into the kiss, his inexperience showing with every hesitant movement. When you pull back, he leans forward, chasing your lips and letting out a soft whine when you don’t return the kiss.

"Puppy, if you don't behave, I will punish you," you scowl, furrowing your eyebrows.

"'m sorry," he mumbles with a pout.

You plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, then slowly run your hands down his torso, gently squeezing each muscle through his white polo. He moans and shivers under your touch, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Puppy works hard in the gym, hm?" You giggle, squeezing his chest slightly harder, eliciting a gasp from him.

You giggle, then start slowly dragging your hands to his arms, squeezing his biceps.

"God, your arms are so big and strong," you moan, squeezing him hard. "I want you to choke me, puppy. Can you do that for me? Choke me with your biceps?"

Letting out a shaky breath, he nods. You shift, pressing your back against his chest. He gently puts you into a chokehold and squeezes his arm slightly. Your eyes roll back, and a moan slips from your lips when you feel his biceps push against your throat.

You can't help but feel small in Mingyu's hold; he's just so big and beefy. You grind your hips against him, and you feel his grip faltering. He whimpers and pushes his erection against your butt.

"P-Please, I can't. I-It hurts," he whimpers against your ear.

You sneak down your hand and palm him through his jeans, making him groan and buck your hips against your palm.

"Need me to take care of your problem puppy?" You giggle, palming him roughly.

"Please," he strains out, choking back a moan.

He releases you from the chokehold, and you quickly clamber over to grab the bottle of lube you've stashed on the side table. You look over to see that he's already pushed his jeans and boxers down and freed his aching cock.

"Impatient are we now, puppy?" You chuckle, making his cheeks heat up.

Locking eyes with him, you give him a sultry look as you slowly peel off your panties but keep your skirt on. He gulps hard, shifting in place, anticipating your next move.

Biting your lip, you slowly crawl back over to him. You pour lube all over his cock and give him a few pumps, he whines your name and bucks his hips, making you giggle.

"Gonna make you feel so good, puppy," you whisper as you shift to hover over him.

You grab onto his shoulders and slowly sink onto his big cock, the stretch making you moan out loud. Mingyu whines and groans under you, his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into you.

"F-Fuck," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth slowly envelopes him.

Your mouth goes agape, and your eyes roll back when you feel his tip kiss your cervix.

"M-Move, please move. I-I can't," he begs, muscles straining under you.

You slowly lift yourself and slam back down onto him, making the both of you moan out loud. Slowly picking up your pace, you start riding him. He becomes a blubbering mess under you, moaning your name and whining at how good it feels.

"Look at the mess we're making, puppy," you pant out, lifting your skirt and showing him the sticky mess forming at the base of his cock.

He looks down at where both of you are connected and moans. He starts picking you up and slamming you down at an animalistic pace, his hips meeting you halfway. You squeal at the feeling of him rutting into you.

Unable to hold back any longer, he cums hard, filling you up to the brim with his seeds. Desperate to reach your high, you continue to ride him despite his chokes and whimpers. You capture his lips into a messy kiss to distract him from the overstimulation.

"C-Circle my clit," you mumble in between the kiss, and he complies, his hand immediately sneaking down and rubbing your clit in circles.

You yell his name as you cum around him, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. Mingyu moans, and a few tears slip from his eyes at the feeling of you squeezing him with a vice-like grip.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, your head resting on Mingyu’s shoulder as he leans back against the headboard. Licking your lips, you cup his face and look into his dazed eyes.

"You did so well, puppy," you coo, watching him blush and give you a fucked-out smile.

"But I don't think I've fully understood the topic yet. Maybe we should go over it again, just to be sure," you say before smashing your lips on his again.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour

@iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina

@theidontknowmehn @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @toplinehyunjin

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kitten4sannie · 2 days ago

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mafia san! always gets what he wants btw, especially when it comes to playing with his favorite toy ♡

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“Look at me, baby, yeah, like that,” San whispers down to you, his breathy voice hardly reaching you past the sound of the loud, crackling fire blazing away behind you within the lavish living room of the estate, though you’re far too focused on the shlick sounds of San’s hand rubbing eagerly along his stiff, dripping cock to really hear what he’s saying to you. He presses a finger into the underside of your chin, tilting it up. “You look like you want something, princess. Use your words, will you?”

“I want to touch you, sir, please let me?” you ask, not even recognizing your own pathetic voice. When did you get this desperate for someone as dangerous as Choi San, the trusted head of the Park Estate? Your legs and feet start to grow numb underneath you from being in that same position for so long, encouraging you to lean forward, resting your head against his bare thigh, your eyes wide and full of need, feeling his muscles contract underneath your cheek as he tossed his head back, his fingers squeezing around the base of his throbbing erection. “I’ll be good, sir, I promise…”

Growing hotter by the second from the raging fire nearby and his pretty plaything quite literally begging on her knees just to put her hands on him, San opened up his heavy fur coat to expose the entirety of his naked body, his pretty tan skin glowing underneath the low light of the room. He gave you a smug sideways smile, angling his cock down to lightly smack it against your heated cheek, making you gasp. “Be good and spit on my cock, then, princess.”

Swallowing down the rest of your dignity, you pursed your lips, letting a few strings of saliva drip down onto the head of his cock, watching him eagerly lube it up, your cunt pulsating like it had its own heartbeat. His curved length was thick and heavy inside San’s slick hand, decorated with prominent veins that all led to the reddened, shiny tip. Your blushing face was mere inches away from it, admiring the way San continued to pleasure himself, from gripping at his swollen balls to running his fingers over one of his perked nipples. Not being able to do anything was simultaneously killing you inside but keeping the fire lit inside your core, and San knew that. That’s why he controlled you in this way.

“Does my pretty doll want to be even prettier for me? Hm? Does she want to be a good toy for me?” San hummed out in between heavy breaths, a few drops of sweat falling off of his jaw and wetting the fur of his coat, all the while thick beads of pre-cum pooled out of his slit and dripped down the swollen head of his cock.

“Yes, please,” you voiced desperately, your dilated eyes flitting from his pulsing cock to his fiery gaze, tears starting to blind your vision from how bad you wanted to taste the saltiness of his pre-cum on your tongue, drool escaping from your parted lips.

Chuckling softly at you, he reached down to slip his fingers into your hair, tugging you towards him just as his moans began to grow louder, taking his time as he painted your beautifully pitiful face with his hot load, making sure not to miss your glistening lips, smearing the last few dribbles of cum over them to finally give you a taste. That’s all it took for you to shudder and fall completely apart before him, falling forward into his bare lap, your mind spinning. You really were his toy, operating only for his own pleasure, which in turn had become your own, somewhere along the way.

San’s eyes resembled crescent moons, his smile only growing wider. He had molded you into the perfect pet.

“That’s my good slut. Now, it’s time to bend over and take what I give you.”

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#IM NOT SORRY #TAKE IT UP WITH MY LAWYER #ateez #ateez san #choi san #ateez smut #san smut #ateez x reader #san x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez hard hours

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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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i know this gonna break my heart... sigh... taking deep breaths... let's go ⬇️

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

first and foremost, i love the characterization of rafe. something about ur interpretation of him feels so lively and real, especially because it relates to his canon. when i was reading thru his thoughts, i was like, woah, rafe would act this way.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

i love the line throwing grenades, waiting for who to blow up first. ur metaphors have always been some of my favorites, so i always love highlighting and pointing it out <3

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty.

i love the turn of internal conflict, that rafe - who has always been loyal as a dog to ward - can have his own conflicting emotions about his father

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect. To Rafe, that meant something. Everything

but at the end of the day, rafe recognizes that he has to set his father on a pedestal because that's all he's ever done. all he'll ever do.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

that actually hurts, the idea that you're dissociating, going somewhere where he can't follow u? oh the miseryyy

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that.

i love u pointing out the validation-seeking 🙂‍↕️

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

this is such a bitter moment, but it's also shows how rafe just reverts back to his younger self in the presence of his father. that even if ward's death, he will continue to haunt the narrative. also, "shit, that was something, wasn't it?" was such a bitter realization.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

HE SAW HIS FATHER

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

i love the depiction of seeing rafe as nothing more than a prop, an entertainment for the rest of the kooks. it gives u this zoo-like viewing of rafe rather than human.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

he's so protective over his father

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

I LOVE HER FOR THIS SOMETHING ABOUT THIS OWNS MY HEART

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

she's real and she should speak on it

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

i love her but god that must've hurt

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

i love that he only picked up the things that he hears, not the fact that he's blind to see it, but rather accusing him of being "dumb"

he has such self-destructive tendencies omg

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

i love their arguments so much, because it's so bitter, and resentful, and sharp and it cuts so deep. that's one of my favorite things about this series, is when they're talking, they're going all in

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

SOMETHINGS WRONG GO HELP HER

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?

my favorite line

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

he's hurt too (but he's a dick) but he's hurt too 🥹

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here?

i love the lingering love, especially because i believe rafe to be the type of person who cannot mourn loss whatsoever, he keeps it in his chest forever, when he loves someone, he'll love them forever

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

ONE OF THE BANGER LINES OF THIS PART AHHH

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

oooo i love this, sometimes i be forgetting they're toxic.

💌 — i love love their argument in this one. i love how u manage to capture rafe's essence with this characterization, especially post-ward, because i often don't read a lot of fics with ward being a dead presence but haunting the narrative. and that make rafe's viewpoint so conflicting, especially since he's trying to grieve but come to terms on who his father is. i absolutely love how u build up to their breaking point, because they have all these things festering under the surface that neither are willing to talk about until someone breaks, and that's how their relationship dynamic is. every time we get to see an insider scope of rafe's head, i am amazed, because the way he analyzes things, flowing from one thought to the next, makes sense. he's insecure, he's grieving, he's angry, and all of these emotions are hitting him at full-force and no one is allowing him the proper space to actually deal with them—especially because ward never did. and when their argument was just bitter shots at one another, just to hurt each other, you know it hurt. oh oh, gigi, u amaze and fascinate me so much!!

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIX

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;

Rafe had been clean for the past three years.

Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing.

Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.

It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours.

Until Ward died.

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect.

To Rafe, that meant something. Everything.

Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.

At first, you were there for him, no question.

He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.

You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.

He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around.

After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.

For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it.

Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.

He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.

He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.

Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.

After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.

If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat.

It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.

This was different, a slower, quieter process.

Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.

So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that?

He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

Grounded.

Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.

You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything.

Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.

She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.

But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.

He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.

“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”

It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.

“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”

The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.

“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”

Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face.

“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”

You were mad at him.

It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.

As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.

His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.

By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you.

You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.

He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.

“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”

Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.

He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.

“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.

“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”

He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.

“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”

“I know what you deserve.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”

“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.

“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"

You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.

His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.

“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.

He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.

“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”

"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”

Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”

You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.

That was it.

Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.

He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you.

He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.

He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?

No, no, no.

Sofia was what he needed.

Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights.

She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.

He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.

It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it.

So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.

Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have.

He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.

Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her.

“I’m here because she called me.”

“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”

Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.

“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”

“Go away. I’m driving her home.”

She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.

“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”

“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”

He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.

But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.

“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”

Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.

It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came.

His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.

Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.

You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.

But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.

He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital.

Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.

His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.

Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.

But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?

This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.

He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system.

He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.

If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.

He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him.

You’ll just prove her right.

He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push.

As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.

He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.

"Wake the fuck up."

He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”

But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.

“What the hell happened?”

Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.

Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”

Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.

Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.

“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”

If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm.

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.

Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.

She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Hi.”

You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”

She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”

She’d made him leave.

You could imagine his face distorted with anger.

You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away, giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.

You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.

“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.”

Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.

You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.

Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.

“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”

You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”

“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”

You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”

There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.

You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.

Not like this, with the IV in your arm.

"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”

This.

You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside.

“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”

Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”

“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to.

“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”

You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.

This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.

"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.

Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.

“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away.

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation.

Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.

You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"

You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.

“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."

“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.

“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”

Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”

You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.

“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.

“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”

Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”

“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”

She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.

“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”

You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”

She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”

When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.

You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.”

The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.

She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.

Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.

You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.

And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.

“Thank you.”

And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.

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@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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hemlock-dreams · 2 days ago

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Horny brain! Activate!

Just wanted to write a scene of Spidey finally getting to indulge his colossal oral fixation. Wade volunteers as tribute! So here: 4k words of pure filth.

---------------

Wade's back hits the wall. He's out of breath, body thrumming from the adrenaline, pulse a hummingbird beat against his chest.

Spiderman has him caged against the rooftop access, an inky blot in the darkness, an electric shadow pressed up against Wade. Their masks are halfway up, and Spidey's tongue is halfway down Wade's throat.

Spidey drops his head to the crook of Wade's neck, leaving a series of sucking kisses that make Wade ache in the suit. "I win," he says, smug as shit, but Wade can't fault him for it.

It was a good fucking chase and an even better fucking fight. He just wishes he could keep the bruises.

"Yeah, you did," Wade pants, grinding against Spidey's dense body. It's amazing, a perfect end to the night, except Wade's not ready for it to be over. "Where I come from, winners get a prize." He says, hoping it doesn't come out too desperate. Or maybe just the right amount of desperate.

Who the winner is in this situation is really up for interpretation, but Wade wants to think they can both get what they want.

Clearly, they're on the same wavelength because Spidey grabs the tail end of the thought and runs with it. "I've got some ideas…"

The dark, masculine purr of Spidey's voice makes Wade want to lick into his mouth, so he does, groaning when Spidey lets him have it. It feels so unbelievably good to let himself want without compunction, to take what's on offer without having to break off pieces of himself to pay for it.

It has the strange side effect of making Wade unusually generous. Borderline pliant—especially when it comes to his favorite spider.

"Oh, yeah?" Wade asks. His vision is already starting to sparkle, body twitching under Spidey's hands from the venom. Wandering hands inevitably end up on Spidey's magnificent ass, squeezing hard, knowing he can take it. "You know what they say. Sharing is caring."

A hand comes up between Wade's legs, palming the erection that's been there ever since Spidey tackled him across a fire escape three blocks ago. He's not gentle, either. Wade pushes up into it, shuddering when the pressure doesn't let up.

Fuck it's good. But he's more interested in what's Spidey's got cooking.

"Here's what's going to happen," Spidey starts casually, cool as a cucumber. Wade's heartbeat picks up immediately. Spidey always has spectacular plans, especially when they involve Wade. "I'm going to get on my knees, and you're going to fuck my mouth. My prize, is going to be swallowing you down— as many times as you can take it."

The words hit Wade like a nuclear fucking blast, evaporating all the air in his lungs. He doesn't even pretend to think about it; just shoves his hands between their bodies and starts yanking at his suit like it's offended the honor of his house and name.

“I haven’t done this before,” Spidey’s voice is thick with anticipation, and the way he watches Wade unbuckle his suit, licking his lips like there’s a five-course meal waiting in Wade’s pants makes his hands shake. “But I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

His mouth brushes under the edge of Wade’s mask as he confesses, licking the seam of the merc’s lips before continuing down his chin.

“Tell me,” Wade grunts, fingers clumsy as he tries to get his fucking zipper to cooperate- difficult when Spidey’s fangs scrape over the sensitive skin of his jaw, little pinpricks of pain and pixie magic that make his trapped cock scream in the suit.

“Been thinking about how it would feel on my tongue,” Spidey indulges, panting wetly against Wade’s neck. “Thought about holding you down and stretching my throat around you, wanna swallow till I’m sore-”

Wade tears the zipper clean off with an unhinged sound. Spidey huffs a laugh, something about being impatient, but he's far past caring. Fuck patience. Fuck the suit. Everything between him and Spidey’s ravenous fucking mouth needs to fucking disappear.

It takes a few drugged, desperate seconds to summon the coordination, but Wade finally manages to pull out his dick, hissing in relief as he palms the throbbing length of it. He’s already painfully hard from the chase. The thrill of being so thoroughly roughed up has him leaking against the blood-slick leather of his glove where he twists it around the head.

Spidey bats it away with a low, possessive growl that makes Wade forget to register the tired knee-jerk stab of shame about his scarring. All attention is devoted to the sight of Spidey sinking to his knees with inhuman, predatory grace, and the heavy curl of his hands around Wade’s hips, coupled with the sharp glint of his venom-streaked fangs, has his dick jumping like he’s been electrocuted.

Fuck, fuck— Spidey hasn’t even done anything, and Wade's on the verge of begging.

“C’mon, Fangs,” he pleads because shame is on vacation right now, fisting the edges of Spidey’s suit and spreading his legs as far as the leather will allow. He tries to flex his hips, but it’s no use. Spiderman is carved from marble, his hands immovable from where he’s anchored Wade.

There’s barely two inches between Spidey’s mouth and his dick, but it might as well be a fucking mile. He glances up at Wade, and his smile is hungry and a little manic, tongue pink and lurid as he swipes it across his fangs.

“I’ll probably hurt you,” he whispers.

Wade’s brain rattles in his head. “Promise?” He begs, breathless because just the thought of it has him panting like a bitch.

That was apparently the right thing to say because Spidey laughs and gets with the fucking program.

It’s been a while since Wade’s been on his knees for anyone. Even longer since he’s been on the receiving end, but given Spidey’s hungry enthusiasm, Wade expected to be halfway down the man’s throat by now.

But predicting Spiderman is an exercise in futility because instead of going to town or doing any of the normal things people do when presented with a cock, he bypasses it to press his face to the base of the shaft, inhaling through his teeth in heaving gulps.

Oh, that’s right.

It's been mentioned once or twice, how Spidey can taste Wade on the air, that their constant proximity means he can parse the merc’s flavor apart from the rest of the ambient soup of the world.

Wade doesn’t know what that really means, but he doesn’t care because Spidey rolls his face against Wade’s skin, breathing deeply, fingers convulsing around the merc’s hips in fits.

It’s both blisteringly hot and strangely chaste— like Spidey is feeling Wade because he’s pleasing to touch, using his body to satisfy all the little urges he’s had to keep tucked away, just because Wade makes him feel good in some bone-deep way.

The feeling unfurls, rolling outwards till his legs are trembling. His hands scrabble against Spidey because his grip is the only thing keeping Wade from freefalling.

“Jesus, Slick,” Wade pants, trying to swallow around the sudden lump his throat, “You’re gonna fucking kill me, come on.”

“Pot. Kettle.” Spidey breathes, in time with Wade’s spiking pulse, “You’ve been driving me crazy. The way you fucking taste, you have no idea-”

Wade really doesn’t. He’s extremely fuzzy on what keeps Spidey here, but he’s not dumb enough to call his bluff, not when his gorgeous hunter leans back and rolls his tongue over the head of Wade’s weeping dick, groaning like the merc is doing him a favor.

The first real touch of his tongue has both of them shivering, and Spidey suddenly descends on Wade like a man starved. He works his lips over the head of his dick like it’s the world’s most delicious lollipop, leaving tingling iridescent trails in his wake as he kisses down the shaft.

Wade is transfixed at the sight, pulse rabbiting as Spidey traces over the scars with his tongue, dipping into the grooves like he’s trying to ingrain them into his memory by mouthfeel alone.

It’s the hottest fucking thing Wade’s ever seen. In fact, he wishes he could permanently pluck out his own eyes to make sure it’s the last thing he ever sees. Then again, maybe it's good he can't because there’s no way he’s missing the sight of Spidey chasing a drop of precum like it’s vital to his survival.

“You taste so pretty,” Spiderman slurs like he can read Wade’s mind, or maybe taste it on his tongue— punctuating the statement with a debauched kiss to the leaking tip. “So fucking perfect, wanna keep you here forever.”

The praise goes straight to Wade’s head, hips jerking uselessly against Spidey’s iron grip. “You can,” he sounds pathetic. “As long as you want, all yours.” And he is, fuck, he is— for as long as long as Spiderman can stand him.

“Yeah?” A pink-slick tongue laves the underside of the head, tracing the throbbing vein there. Wade’s vision crackles; it’s so intense, “Whenever I want?” There’s something deeply satisfying in the way his fingers dig into Wade’s hip, ten sweet points of bruising pain that makes his dick weep.

“Yeah. Anytime, anywhere,” Wade promises fervently, sounding like the lovelorn maiden he is. He’ll let Spidey blame it on the venom.

That gets him a crooked grin, pleased. Spidey purses his lips around the head of Wade’s cock, content to linger, pressing torturous little licks into his slit.

Now, Wade is a well-known masochist, but apparently, he’s got a limit. “C’mon, Fangs,” he moans, twitching against Spidey’s mouth, heart jumping when the head of his cock hitches one venom-slicked lip high enough to see teeth, “Let me in.”

That earns him a heartfelt groan and a shiver.

“I want, but-” Spidey hisses, rubbing his lips against scarred skin. Lips draw back in a facsimile of a snarl.

Wade pulls at Spidey’s shoulders, impatient, “Your teeth? Trust me, baby, it's all I've been thinking about. I want it.” Wade’s cock is literally jumping at the sight. Want doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Wade needs it; needs to see that pretty needle-lined mouth wrapped around his cock before he wakes up behind whatever dumpster he’s offloaded his body.

Spidey stares at him, breath coming out in harsh gasps.

"Please," Wade begs, and it must be convincing because Spidey twitches forward in an aborted movement.

“Show me,” Spiderman says, then shakes his head, sounding unhinged, borderline feral. “No…Make me.”

The demand practically creaks under years of habits born in response to having fangs that don’t retract.

Jesus, he really hasn't done this before, has he?

The thought of being the first person to sink into Spiderman’s virgin fucking mouth drives him crazy. Wade isn’t delusional enough to believe he’ll be the last but fuck, he wants to make it so good that Spidey keeps coming back-

He remembers to tear his gloves off before fisting one hand into the back of Spidey’s mask, tugging hard, forcing the man’s head back until his neck is a pale, elegant line in the dark.

His gorgeous little spider doesn't even flinch; he just leans into the pain like it's a gift. The explicit show of trust sends all voices roaring, and the intensity of Wade's desire takes him by surprise. Violence, lust, love, all the lines blur until Wade can't tell the difference between wanting to fuck Spidey or kill him— whatever it takes to permanently mark him as Wade's.

Spidey chooses that moment to swallow, knowing that Wade's eyes follow the motion like a man possessed. Fucking tease. Wade's going to ruin him.

“Poor itsy bitsy spider,” Wade's voice is a velvet growl as he settles his other hand around Spidey’s jaw, reveling in how the simple touch makes him shiver. Has anyone else ever reacted like that to Wade? “Spent your entire life with that hungry mouth muzzled, huh?”

Wade doesn't wait for Spidey to confirm. He can already imagine the man's civilian life, a sad snapshot of carefully regulated emotions filled with close-lipped smiles and pursed grins. A real fucking shame because Wade recognizes a repressed slut when he sees one. Something, something birds of a feather.

“Don't worry, baby,” He slides his cock up and over Spidey's mouth, watching the wallcrawler jerk and pant as he spreads all that shiny venom over his cheeks, pushing up against the edge of his mask, “I'm going to pry you open just to see how soft you are inside.”

Spidey grits out a wounded noise, jaw hard enough to chew through gravel. He’s drooling through clamped teeth, venom, and spit trailing down his chin in rivulets. He wants it, bad, and Wade wants to give it to him.

Spidey just needs a little coaxing, and the challenge of it, combined with Wade's frayed impatience, makes his touches mean.

“Thought you wanted this?” Wade cruelly squeezes his fingers deep into the bone, right where the hinge is, just to watch Spidey flinch and take it. “Don’t tell me you chased me through the city just to pass on your prize?”

He presses his cock against Spidey’s closed mouth, pushing past his lips to rub against his teeth and catch against his swollen gums, right up against the sensitive glands.

It must feel intense because Spidey shakes and whines, muscles spasming under Wade's fingers as he struggles to fight years of conditioning.

“Was it all talk?” He taunts, pulling back just enough to watch Spidey fight his grip to chase him. “Is it too much for you? Maybe I should put it away-”

It’s a bluff because Wade is fucking desperate, but Spidey’s jaw flexes in response, loosening just enough to unleash a furious growl.

“No?” Wade pretends to think about it long enough for Spidey’s grip to turn dangerous. Wade's hips might be splinters by the end, but that’s just icing on the cake. “You want it?”

“Yes,” Spidey chokes out, and Wade gives him a brutal little shake,

“Then, open up.” His voice is all malice, the way it gets when Wade's face to face with a target he’s looking particularly forward to taking his time with. “Let me break you in.”

That does it. A full-body tremor rolls up Spidey’s entire frame, and slowly, very slowly, his jaw begins to relax.

What a perfect, fucking freak.

Immediately, Wade pushes his fingers into the soft hollows of Spidey’s cheeks, forcing his jaw wider, crooning in pleasure as he watches bruises bloom under pressure. “That’s it, Slick. Open up those pearly gates, lemme see what heaven looks like.”

The fangs really are pretty- long and graceful, and absolutely drenched, gums swollen around the base of his canines— hypersensitive, if the way Spidey is twitching is any indication. His mouth is plush and bright pink, a salivating mess when Wade jerks his head up for a better look.

His cock throbs at the sight, and Wade reached his limit about two paragraphs into this whole thing, so he starts pushing, dragging the leaking tip past Spidey’s criminally soft lips.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hand shaking around Spidey’s jaw. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Wider, that’s it, yeah-“

Spidey makes a garbled, incoherent noise that makes Wade want to slam in. His spider is breathing hard and fast, hands tight across the merc's hips; Wade has to fight for every goddamn inch, earn every shallow, torturous slide into that glorious mouth.

The wet, needy sound that accompanies every slide is addicting.

“That’s it, baby, keep that mouth nice and loose for me. Let me give it to you, fuck-” he’s working his hips in little jerks, just dragging the head across Spidey’s drooling mouth, fighting not to come before he's given Spidey his damn prize.

Wade goes deeper each time, teasing both of them when he pulls out and dips back in, little thrusts that have Wade’s nerve endings sparking. Fuck, fuck, he needs more—

"Is that all you can take?" It's supposed to be a taunt, but the words come out twisted, desperate. Wade needs to get deeper; he needs to carve out a space in Spidey's body just for him.

Spidey makes a frustrated, guttural noise around Wade’s cock as he tilts his head. The new angle makes his fangs look obscene, like two gleaming daggers poised over the head of Wade’s dick, and his voice pitches embarrassingly high at the sight.

“In, wanna see you take it.” Panting breaths, Wade pulling as much as he can, pushing his hips at the same time, but there's no fucking give to Spiderman. “Come on, come on, c’mon, c'moncmoncmon-”

Spidey shifts, and Wade feels his jaw pop under his thumb, the final piece of resistance disappearing as he finally leans in, and god- Spidey's mouth is a fucking revelation, all scorching heat, so wet there's almost no friction, just a long, dripping, sinful slide.

Wade hears himself whine, a perfect counterpitch to Spidey's low animal groan.

It's too fast, especially given Spidey's inexperience, but the promise of bruising that beautiful throat from the inside out burns all of Wade's gentler impulses.

And Spidey sounds so fucking pleased, like Wade is everything he ever wanted, sinking further and further like he can't bear the thought of pulling back— like the weight of Wade's cock is more important than the air in his lungs.

“C’mon,” He’s babbling, comically delirious even to his own ears, leaking every thought right into Spidey's greedy mouth, “Take it, take it, sweetheart, it’s yours, all of it, anything you need, Slick, please—”

He's so close. The world is starting to go hazy, the wet sound of Spidey's mouth, the bruising grip around his hips, the chill breeze over his stomach, everything blurring together to tease the most monstrous orgasm of his life.

Right as he's about to tip over the edge, Spiderman retreats, and Wade nearly breaks his own fingers trying to claw him back over his aching dick. Wade's throat burns, loud and incoherent, a wash of white noise against the coming tide.

It doesn't seem to matter, or maybe it does, because Spidey just breathes deep and sinks all the way to the root, and the resounding crack of Wade's skull against the wall is nothing but a delicious accent to the absolute tidal wave of pleasure that swamps him.

Time turns to spaghetti, and by the time Wade floats back up, it's to the sight and sound of Spidey shaking, whining around the thick length of Wade's cock, nose pressed against the bone. He sounds pained, like he's hurting, or—

“Jesus, Jesus, baby, did you just-?” Wade shudders, staring down at Spidey's kneeling form in disbelief.

Spidey just makes a raw, broken noise, sounding as fucked out as Wade feels. He swallows, then nods.

His hands haven't moved from Wade's hips.

"Where did they make you? Fuck, you're so, —just— fucking perfect. You're gonna kill me," Wade chokes out, hoarse, twitching against the soft meat of Spidey's throat.

Spiderman seems to take this as advice because instead of pulling off, he sinks even further until his face is completely pressed up against Wade's abdomen.

It's immediately too much, and Wade scrabbles at Spidey's shoulders, hissing as his body instinctively tries to retreat.

He doesn't go far because Spidey fuckin’ snarls around Wade’s cock in protest, and Wade suddenly finds himself pushed against the wall hard enough to grind his spine into the brick. He’s pinned, completely immobile, save for his mouth- which is still running a mile a minute,

“Fuck, baby, Jesus, you're a fucking lunatic—!" His voice cracks as Spidey inhales him, taking the entirety of Wade's shaft like he's going to find the meaning of life at the base of it.

He stays there for a long time, immune to the desperate, inarticulate noises tearing out of Wade's mouth. Wade's cock hasn't even had a chance to go down, and thanks to Spidey, is almost painfully hard against the back of his throat.

Enthusiasm aside, Wade knows he needs to ease up. Spidey can't be getting enough air— but Wade can’t pull back, not when he feels the tips of those fangs threaten him when he tries. Instinct paralyzes Wade, but the sound that Spidey makes, a low hum of warning, vibrates through his cock and all the way up his spine.

Those teeth press close, locking tight enough to be unnerving. There's no pain, not yet, but the threat, the mere idea of it, sends Wade's brain right into the fucking stratosphere.

When his ears turn back on, it’s to the sound of his own babbling, out of his mind on a heady cocktail of terror and pleasure, "Fuck, Slick, your fucking teeth, yeah do it, do it, do it, do it—" Wade’s voice is wobbly, wet as he shakes from the overstimulation.

Spiderman doesn't let up, forcibly pushing Wade deeper into the wall as he speeds up.

Spiderman pulls back and sinks down, dragging the sharp points of his teeth across Wade's cock over and over and over, carving shallow lines of blistering pain and pleasure that coil in the mess of his brain until they're indistinguishable from one another.

Wade is suspended, writhing in pure, terrifying sensation, and the sounds being punched out of his chest are humiliatingly small and honest.

Spidey’s venom is shimmering on his skin, coursing in his veins, sinking into his fucking soul and staining the ragged thing electric pink. His entire nervous system feels like it's been doused with gasoline and set on fucking fire.

It's too much. Every inch of exposed skin feels flayed. Wade's cock is just a raw nerve, and Spidey’s mouth a fucking black hole, sucking every single thought out of Wade’s head with incredible violence.

“Fuckbabyfuckican't—" But he wants to, wants to give it to Spidey, but there's just no way, he can't.

Spidey doesn't give a shit about Wade's limits, because he pries one of the merc's hands from his shoulder, and Wade valiantly scrapes half a brain cell off the floor to pay attention when Spidey presses the bare palm to the side of his neck—

Everything slows down. Oh fuck. Oh fuck-

Then Spidey swallows and squeezes, and the feel of his fangs pressing in, his throat distending around Wade’s cock, under his palm-

That’s it. Game over. Wade’s entire body locks up, muscles convulsing as Spidey wrenches his second orgasm from the fucking pits of hell. He comes so hard his teeth ache. It lasts for centuries, time stretching and wringing out every drop of pleasure until Wade is whiting out, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He’s not sure he ever really comes back down; just floats just over the precipice of consciousness, just low enough to hear his own overstimulated whimpers as Spidey swallows around him, just like he promised.

For the first time in ages, Wade's head is blissfully silent, and he basks in it for as long as he can.

Eventually, the world begins to filter in, but Wade's body still feels languid, lacking the telltale bite he associates with general living.

Cracking his eyes open— when had he closed them?— Wade is treated to the sight of a very satisfied, very smug spider.

"Fucker." He manages, voice broken and rough with affection.

His legs are completely fucking shot, and the only thing stopping Wade from buckling to the grimy cement are Spidey's hands holding him to the wall, keeping the entire bulk of Wade's considerable weight like he's nothing.

His thumbs are stroking over Wade's hipbones.

It's hot. It's...it's...

He runs a soft hand over the fading bruises on Spidey's jaw and gets a sweet kiss on his knuckles in return. Wade's heart does something funny in his chest, but the accompanying feeling isn't funny in the slightest.

Then Spidey nips the thumb, grinning wide, a little drunk and a lot vicious. The broken rasp of his voice straight up rewires the pleasure centers of Wade's brain, “Again?”

Wade feels the addiction forming, physically impossible but there all the same. And like every substance abuse story, Spidey is going to eat Wade alive from the inside out.

What a way to go.

"Yeah," Wade grins. "C'mon sweetheart, let's see if you can actually kill me this time."

#hunting!spider #spiderman #deadpool #spideypool #blink and miss it character study #can't wait to spot all the typos the moment I post this up #the 3am brain just hits different #they're in love your honor

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rookinthecrownest · 2 days ago

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Some Updated Thoughts on Lucanis' Romance (Both Positive & Constructive)

I want to make this as balanced and as reasonable a take as I can. I'll put everything under the cut and tag as critical so you don't have to engage with it/see it if you don't want to.

As usual, these are just my opinions. If you really enjoyed Lucanis' romance, none of what I'm about to say is meant to dissuade you from that. I'm happy for you!! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. There were parts of it that I absolutely loved too, and I hope I'll do that justice with this post so it doesn't come across as hate. Because I don't hate his romance, I just think there was some places where it could have been fleshed out a bit more.

If you want to engage in discussion with the more critical aspects of this post, my only request is you do so respectfully.

Positives

I'd like to start on a good note by detailing the aspects of his romance that I really liked. There are a few places where I think they did a great job with his romance.

Party Banter & Codex Entries

Although meant to be supplemental material to the story, I think they do a really good job at helping the slow-burn aspect of his romance they were going for. There's one codex entry that goes something along the lines of 'It is not an hour lost, but an hour found' and that is one of my favourite codex entries....ever. It's such a short entry but so meaningful and shows you a lot about his character. You get this profound sense of just how much Rook means to him with this one line.

His party banter once you're in a relationship is also very sweet. I didn't get a lot of it, but what I did get was lovely. Especially when he admits to Neve that Rook is good for him and makes him smile. There's another line about how he doesn't know what Rook sees in him, but he's happy they're with him which is super sweet. Telling Emmrich how Rook is his first relationship? Adorable.

Everything about the party banter and codex entries did a good job of giving us more insight into how his character is dealing with things, when it's not explicitly shown to us in cutscenes (We'll come back to this later). It helps form a more complete picture of the way they wanted to handle this romance in general.

Relationship Cutscenes

There's a few scenes throughout the romance that I enjoyed a lot.

The scene with Illario at Cafe Pietra and the talk of first kisses and kisses goodbye was very cute and well done. It really did feel like a coffee date haha.

The almost-kiss scene was also amazing. The confident stride towards Rook, the wall-lean, his facial expression when he pulls away. You can feel how much he wants it, but something in the back of his mind (whether it's him, or Spite) pulls him away at the last second? I loved that. I'm actually super glad they didn't kiss here. The pull away made for great tension (I'm going to come back to why this is important later).

His line about Rook breaking apart his 'perfectly gathered clouds of doom' was beautiful, and one of my favourite lines in the game.

Although there could have been more to it, his romance lock-in scene with him baking dessert for Rook is also sweet and shows his romantic side and thoughtfulness.

The ending scene of the romance, after Rook comes out of the Fade Prison, is some of my favourite romance scenes in any Bioware game. Any game, period. It was so incredibly well done. From the writing, to the dialogue, to the facial expressions - absolutely everything was perfect. The wings coming out, the fade to black, the banter about falling asleep and playing cards with Spite? Lovely. All absolutely lovely. 10/10, no notes.

His dialogue about killing any god to keep Rook safe is very sweet/romantic. How he wants Rook to tell them this all ends with him asleep in their arms. How Rook's voice is a comfort. This was SO beautiful.

All in all, in some places, I feel that they did achieve the slow burn they wanted with his romance. Even excelled at it, really.

Constructive Criticism

I'm just going to re-iterate that while this section may be longer than the positives, it comes from a place of love rather than just wanting to hate for the sake of hating. I've been a fan of this character ever since I picked up Tevinter Nights, and was looking forward to his romance the most.

The Neve Situation

I'm going to get this one out of the way first because it's probably one of the more.... contentious points in this discussion.

Besties, I need you all to hold my hand so tightly as I say this, but absolutely none of my frustration with the Neve/Lucanis thing is to be construed as hate towards Neve. In fact, I love Neve. I've been a fan of her since she appeared in the comics. I loved her in Tevinter Nights. I love her in the game, I can't wait to romance her. I don't have a problem with these two characters getting together if Rook is not romancing either of them. That being said, there are a few things about his interactions with Neve if romanced by Rook that I can see why they would rub people the wrong way (and why they rub me the wrong way a little bit too).

-Neve and Lucanis can still flirt after Lucanis is locked into a romance with Rook. This is a pretty big oversight from the devs. Its no secret that characters will romance each other if not in a romance with the player character. It happened in DA2 with Fenris/Isabela, in DAI with Josephine/Blackwall, Sera/Dagna, and Bull/Dorian. In ME, I believe it happens with Garrus and Tali as well. So, I don't think the simple fact that they can get together is really what's bothering people.

Importantly, unlike previous games, once the player character is locked into a romance with the other party, the LI doesn't flirt with other companions. I think if the devs had locked the flirting once Lucanis is locked in with romance, much of this conversation wouldn't even be happening.

DATV is a role-playing game. Nothing would take someone out of a role-playing game faster than their love-interest being flirty with another companion - and understandably so. It just feels...icky? Like your player character is getting in the way of a ship the writers wanted. I don't think it's unreasonable for someone to not want to feel like a third wheel in their own romance.

-In Lucanis' mind-prison quest, even if he's romanced by Rook, Neve will still appear. The way Spite describes her seems to imply he still has some sort of romantic feelings for her. Which.... yikes (but this may also just be the way I read his line). If he's not romanced by Rook, Neve being here would make sense. There's not even a mention about Rook in a note or anything. Spite has one line about Rook opening doors and not closing them but that's about it. There's no special romance reactivity in this scene, even though it happens pretty late in the game and after the romance-lock in. Afterwards, he says he trusts you with his thoughts, which is sweet. But this should have been in the cutscene - not skippable banter at the LightHouse.

Set Up & Pay-off

This is a fundamental aspect of storytelling I'm sure you're all familiar with. The classic Chekov's gun. Don't set up something you don't plan to pay off.

Let's go back to the almost-kiss. They set up some fantastic romantic tension here. If you go see Lucanis again after this scene, I think he has a line along the lines of "I'm sorry Rook... I can't ..." But that's all we get. And the almost-kiss isn't really addressed again. Actually I wouldn't even call this being addressed in the first place, because if you wait too long to see him after that cutscene it may not trigger in the first place. This is probably the most egregious example of wasted set up with no pay off. There's no discussion about it. There's no cutscene of Lucanis talking to another companion, or even having some kind of internal monologue about it.

Another example of set up & pay-off is after confronting Illario. Lucanis says he has a plan to celebrate instead of sticking around at the party.

Cut to him drinking coffee by himself back at the Lighthouse.

Rook & Lucanis could have sneaked off to Cafe Pietra, or gone walking in the Treviso market. Or hell, taken the Gondola ride that was in the concept art. Or kissed in the rain under an awning. (I'm never getting over that concept art they showed us...)

The conversation about sparing Illario, how he doesn't want to lose what he has left, including Rook, is fine. But I feel this was another wasted opportunity.

The romance lock-in scene is another example of a missed opportunity/failed set-up. It doesn't even feel like a romance lock-in to a lot of people. If so many players think their game is bugged because that's how you lock in the romance, I think there's a problem. You go from almost kissing to a full on relationship. There is so much that can happen in between that (none of which has to be physical intimacy btw) which could have helped make the lock in scene make more sense. It's the same scene as the one with Neve - but almost...done worse?

Having coffee with Spite & Lucanis. This one is more a writing issue. At the end of the scene he stands awkwardly next to Rook and says, "Whatever this is, I'll take it" and I couldn't help but feel... the writers really just didn't know what they wanted to accomplish with this scene. 'Whatever this is' could have been 'I don't know what this is yet or what to call it, but whatever it is, I want to see it through with you' or something along those lines. Astarion actually says something similar in one of his romance scenes, but he holds your hand, looks at Tav earnestly, and says "Honestly, I don't know what we're doing. But this...this is nice..". He doesn't put a name to the relationship either, but it's the way he says it and how it's conveyed that make it a more effective scene.

He's been imprisoned for a year. He was made into an abomination. He doesn't sleep. He's dealing with PTSD probably. He's a romantic at heart but needs to learn to trust again. It makes sense that he's not overly flirty with Rook, and the romance isn't very physical. This is all FINE.

BUT.

While I listed the codex entries & party banter as a positive (because I do like it), I feel that they leaned too heavily on that for the romance.

Let's contrast Lucanis' romance to Cullen's romance in DAI. After all, Cullen has also gone through some pretty traumatic shit and is literally struggling with Lyrium addiction when you meet him in Inquisition. I want you to remove all of Cullen's side-banter about the inquisitor, all party banter about their relationship, and all the codex entries. When you watch the cutscenes of his romance in order, you are still left with a solid romance. If you're a mage, you even get some heartbreaking mage-specific dialogue about whether or not he'd cut you down if you ever become an abomination.... And I'm getting off topic here, sorry.

My point is, these things are meant to be extra. They are not supposed to be the way you piece together bits of your own relationship and a substitute for companion interaction. And here is where I think DATV's choice not to let you randomly talk to your companions really hurts it as a game.

Romance Reactivity

There's a few points in the game where romance-specific dialogue would have really helped solidify things.

No, I don't mean flirting. I mean dialogue that reads like he's struggling with building the relationship - not bulldozing right past it. It makes the romance-specific dialogue wheel options feel rather useless.

One example is during one of his personal quests, Rook says

"I'm still here aren't I"

No facial reaction, "We need to talk about Illario"

You can see how this is a bit ... jarring, right? Like you may as well have not even picked the romance-specific dialogue? There's a few instances of this, but that one is just the one I can recall off the top of my head. When I pick the romance-specific dialogue wheel in Bioware games, there's always something about the response from the other character that indicates something more might be going on - it could be something as simple as a nervous smile, or an extra line of dialogue, or hell, maybe they flirt back (although with Lucanis I understand why he wouldn't).

If you're not going to show romance reactivity with Rook, give us a scene with Lucanis where we understand why. Show him fumbling to do something nice for them. Show him pacing and wondering if Rook is really into him. Show him struggling against Spite, if he's worried Spite will hurt Rook. Don't just tell us through codex entries. Show us.

Miscellaneous Sentiments & Final Thoughts

On the whole, I genuinely feel like Lucanis has the least content out of all the companions. Maybe it's because they laid off Courtney Woods & Mary Kirby, maybe there's another reason. I don't know. But so often I found myself going back to the Lighthouse wanting to talk to Lucanis but there's no little indicator thingy for him. But every time I go back Davrin, Harding, Bellara, etc. all have something to say.

We should have had an opportunity to delve a little bit more into his relationship with his family, unpacked the stuff with Caterina & Illario a bit more, and unpacked him being made First Talon. Which, if you read Tevinter Nights, you know he actually doesn't want the job. If they weren't going to include it as a cutscene, then extra dialogue (a-la-Inquisition) would have been a good place to fit that in.

On the whole, I still like aspects of his romance. I'm looking forward to romancing him again. I just feel that the romance could have benefitted from even 1 or 2 extra small scenes. If I can go on 1000 walks in the forest with Davrin and Assan, I should be able to have a real conversation with Lucanis about the relationship, his hangups about it, and try and work through it.

Keep the almost-kiss in there. An extra kiss before the finale would have been fine, but not necessary. What was necessary, imo, is a whooole lot of buildup throughout the course of Act 2 so it doesn't feel like you're getting whiplash in Act 3 when you do kiss and have the implied sex scene.

I think the concept art that was recently released feels like a gut punch to us Lucanis fans. Because it shows that Bioware had the skeleton of a great romance, and chose to axe nearly all of it.

It really feels like they didn't quite know what to do with his character and romance and just said 'put it all in the codex and banter and let them figure it out for themselves'.

Quick Notes

The argument that we should 'run to AO3' to fix our issues with the narrative, to me, is unproductive. Fanfiction should supplement the source material, not act as a replacement for good storytelling.

I don't think telling people to headcanon a majority of a romance they were looking forward to is helpful either. Headcanon is not supposed to replace storytelling either.

Boiling down the criticisms of Lucanis' romance to 'you just want more steam/sex/etc' is also unhelpful. Maybe it's just who I follow, but I have barely seen anyone (on here or reddit) state that this is their main problem with the romance.

Okay, that's it!

Bye!

#datv #datv spoilers #bioware critical #datv critical #Lucanis x rook #rookanis #lucanis dellamorte #I probably missed a lot of what I wanted to say #but this post is already long enough

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ssahotchnerr · 24 hours ago

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how about hotch fluff with reader who's love language is acts of services?

a bit longer

oh to spoil and love on aaron 🥰 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

You'd do anything to make Aaron's life easier.

He worked tremendously hard, took on a lot - things, scenarios beyond your own comprehension, and still came home as the loving, extraordinary man he was, both as a partner and a father.

You wanted to help in any way you could. Even if that meant setting an alarm for far too early.

He's told you before, and it wasn't surprising either, he would wake up early while on a case, to iron his suit jacket as needed. And while it made perfect sense, you weren't afraid to admit it tugged at your heartstrings in a melancholy, endearing way.

Last night, Aaron had gotten home much later than he would have liked, missed seeing Jack altogether, as he was already asleep. He ate a quick dinner, and climbed into bed with you.

As a result, he hadn't been in the best mood going to sleep, especially considering he had to wake up early to iron the one suit he had at home - he defeatedly expressed as he got comfortable. The rest were at the cleaners, which was closed by the time he left the office. He even uttered the consideration of using the spare jacket he left at the office.

Aaron didn't get enough sleep to begin with. And unbeknownst to him, after he quickly drifted off, you sneakily shut off his alarm and turned yours on.

Six in the morning came fast. The second the tone rang, you shut it off, hoping it hadn't managed to awake Aaron. You laid there silently for a moment or two, just to ensure he hadn't stirred. He was either the world's heaviest sleeper, or the lightest, depending on the day.

When you were confident he hadn't, you slipped out of bed. Slowly. Lifting the arm slung over your waist and setting it gently aside, peeling back the blanket, or Aaron didn't subconsciously feel your weight leaving the comfort of bed. You exited the bedroom just as leisurely - heading towards the laundry room and hoping you didn't stub your toe in the dark hallway in the process.

His suit was already hung and waiting, right where he left it the night before. After blinking several times to adjust to the light, you clicked the iron on, yawning as you waited for it to warm up.

You turned his suit jacket inside out, preventing any potential damage to the material. In addition, you triple checked the heat setting, making sure it was the proper one. You started with the back: laying it flat on the board and gliding it along the surface in a steady motion.

The floor creaked behind you. Glancing behind your shoulder, you saw Aaron leaning against the doorframe, rubbing his eye.

"What're you doing up?" He asked, raspy.

You ignored his question, offering a gentle, lazy smile in return. "Go back to sleep."

His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes as he observed you. He was thoroughly - and adorably - more confused due to his sleep induced haze. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. So go back to sleep." You insisted softly, resuming your task. But contrary to your words, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. It was all too easy to lean back into Aaron's embrace.

"Ironing my suit?" His voice was closer now, at level with your ear. The proximity enhanced his sexy, deep morning voice. "What time is it?"

"That's not important." You teased with a shrug, flipping his jacket to tackle the front next. Your following few words left you nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal. And it wasn't. "I changed yours, and set mine."

He blinked, still waking up and still trying to comprehend what was happening. "Why?"

"So you could get more sleep."

His hold on you loosened slightly, pleasantly surprised. "You didn't need to do that."

"I know." You simply put it, pressing down on the jacket's lapels. "I wanted to."

"I could've-"

"Honey, you don't get nearly enough sleep as it is. If me doing this," you shook the iron lightly for emphasis, "means you get an extra thirty minutes, I want you to get those thirty extra minutes. And besides, I wanna help. You come home stressed and your job is demanding and I want to make things easier on you. You do a lot for others, for me, and I want to repay the favor."

You hadn't meant to go off on a tangent, but it was true. You only wished you could give him the whole world (But if someone asked Aaron, you already had).

"Watch where you wave that thing." Aaron quipped, his tone a humorous deadpan. A smile tugged at the ends of his lips, his arms retightening around you, squeezing you lovingly. "You're sweet."

You blushed at the simple compliment, "And you work too hard."

"Then it's a good thing I have you to slow me down." He kissed your temple, and you could just feel the love radiating off him, he didn't need to verbally say it. "Thank you sweetheart. Seriously."

"You're welcome, now will you please go back to bed? Or do I need to threaten you with the iron again?"

Aaron laughed, a hand squeezing your hip affectionately. "Only if you join me. I could care less if my suit has one more, minor wrinkle if it means I get to lay with you a bit longer."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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cursedhaglette · 1 day ago

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Solavellan fic recs please I’m so hungry 🥺🥺

oh I'd love to provide! these have been my personal favorites so far (also fair warning, I am a solavellan fucked in DAI truther and that is reflected in my choices below so your mileage may vary)

Everything by niceasspavus - especially their fic Servitude which is an absolute masterwork. The prose is succinct but spectacular, the smut is excellent and never feels out of place (smut sometimes can with solavellan okay) and they dig into Solas' mind in a really beautiful way. They also started a modern AU fic and while that's not usually my trope at all, I've actually read what they have posted so far like three times because it's so good. Can't wait to see if they grace us with more.

Fellchaser by @rosieofcorona - Okay make that literally anything Darcy touches I recommend but Fellchaser is...I want to plaster my walls with it. The walls of my mind prison at least. The first time I read it, I literally read it five times back to back to back (I was admittedly very high but that's NOT THE POINT) because I was so taken with the prose and every detail. It is absolute perfection, seriously, the only thing wrong with it is that it isn't 100k words

What He Wouldn't Give by sugarhihello - a devastating take what happens immediately after the Crestwood scene we know and hate to love. I'm scared of writers who can make me want more of a scene like that and yet this fic gives me that

The Waiting by say_lene - solavellan thigh riding, need I say more?

Even Gods Need Miracles by callmebecks - A study of Solas' mindset from DAI to now include the DAV ending.

A Field as Wild as Your Heart by lillith_morgana - An exceptional take on the solavellan ending/post-DAV with gorgeous prose

Dreadful Recollections by @scaryanneee - if you know me from the bg3 era at all, you know Think of Me is a smut of all time so scaryanne joining us in solavellan hell has been SO FUN (for me personally at least eheheh) This little smut is so brilliant because it truly gave me so many ideas to play with for my own ship during this time period while also being so hot??? Also just read the tags on this and you know you're in for a great time

Handle With Care by feynite - I'm sure you've seen feynite if you've looked at solavellan fics because Looking Glass is the biggest one but I think this is just a really excellent little fic of theirs. Sad AND sexy - what every Solas fan is looking for I think

solavellan moots, please feel free to add on - I'm always looking for more and I'm sure others are too! anon - hope this gave you some tasty morsels and feel free to come back if you need more! xoxox

#fic recs #solavellan fic recs #solavellan hell #asks #solas x lavellan #solas dragon age #solas x inquisitor #solavellan #dragon age

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minkiverse · 1 day ago

Text

SONG MINGI FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

The behemoth part two 🫡🫡 fun fact at the time of me writing this san and mingi have equal amount of posts on this blog and thats what you call being double-biased 👍👍 once again unfortunately this will have another part as i could not fit all my recs in this post fuck tumblr but i hope you all enjoy reading about my sweet sweet princess 🥹🥹 and give a lot of love to these authors!!!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

Princess pt 2 - @choisanboobenthusiast 🔥

it probably won't be shock that a lot of the mingi fics i recommend are sub!mingi and this is just the beginning 🤤🤤 HOW HE IS WRITTEN HERE IS JUST SO FUCKING CUTE I COULD CRY 😭😭 hes just so needy i- 🫠🫠

Under the Radar - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Fuckboy!Mingi ✧ Ongoing

like i said in my reblog i truly can understand mc because i would also be in love immediately with this man that it would be a concern for everyone around me 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ her making him chase her too AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THAT

Genesis - @songmingisthighs ⛈️💗🍑 Fashion Mogul!Mingi ✧ SMAU

i will say the main trope of this story isnt for everyone BUT IT SURE AS HELL IS FOR ME!!!!! what can i say about this author's smau's they are so interesting with dynamic characters and plotlines but still so funny and i love mingi in this 😭😭😭😭

Use me pt 2 - @hwaightme 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers

mingi is deeply in love with mc and offers himself up to them and i will cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 hes just so precious in this two shot literally the sweetest bub that deserves everything 🥺🥺

show & tell pt 2 - @jensthwa ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

a friends to lovers trope will always get me especially when it starts with them "helping" each other which makes the realization that they love each other sosososososososoooooooo good 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

the princess treatment chronicles pt 2 - @yuyusuyu 💗 Friends to Lovers AU

oh god everyone in this fic is absolutely adorable 🥹🥹🥹 mingi has a list of how to make him fall in love and mc is doing a real good job at completing that list 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 THEY ARE JUST SO CUTE THIS IS JUST FLUFFY FLUFF I LOVE IT!!!!!

Dirty Little Secret pt 2 - @xosannie 🔥 Friends to Lovers ✧ Sex Worker!Mingi

mc stumbles across mingis secret twitter account and cant stop thinking about it but same of course absolutely completely normal reaction to seeing videos of mingi getting himself off like???????? n e ways mc gets to help mingi in his career what a good friend 🥰🥰

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES

Sweet Juice - @hongism 🔥 Magic AU

the patient in 206 - @frenchkisstheabyss 💗 Hospital AU

[5:04 AM] - @edenesth 💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

Untitled - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Supernatural AU ✧ Ghost!Mingi

look at the way i ride - @biaswreckme 🔥

edging mingi - @1ovewoo 🔥

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

realistic sex with mingi - @byuntrash101 🔥💗

[12:03 am] - @min-gis 🔥

steamroller - @fallinforgyu ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

this fic..... oh my god..... if i wasnt already in love with mingi THIS JUST MADE IT 10000000% WORSE 😭😭😭😭 childhood friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (not really but u kno asdfsdfgfddf) and just the sweetest exploration of each other as they decide to lose their virginities together AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 😩😩😩😩😩 its just perfect ok i love them

Untitled - @thetypingpup ✨🔥 Dragon!Mingi

fucking sub dragon!mingi.... what else is there to say 🤤🤤 like him just soaking in the praise and possessiveness ohmygooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo😩😩😩😩

Tuesday | Seven - @sluttywoozi ✨🔥💗

we have 3 major hits in a row AND I AM LOSING MY MIND REREADING ALL OF THEM 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this is some of the hottest domestic smut ive ever read quite possible 🫠🫠 reader is so incredibly horny for mingi AND I LIVE FOR THAT SHIT and damn mingi is down 😩😩

Assert your Dominance - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Mechanic!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits - @gamerwoo 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers ✧ Wererwolf!Mingi

Yeehaw - @desirehorizon 🔥

Kinktober Day 30 - @ateezreactionsandscenarios 🔥

Face Sitting with Mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Use it. - @a-soft-hornytiny 🔥

NSFW Alphabet - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Sleepless Inquiries - @catkyunie 💗

mingi x chubby!reader - @sluttywoozi 🔥💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

After Work - @ateezscupid 🔥

It's okay, baby - @ateezscupid 🔥

Make Up - @nateezfics 🔥💗

12:06 - @desirehorizon 🔥

booksmart - @byuntrash101 ✨🔥

i am probably a broken record at this point but god do i love sub!mingi AND NERD LOSER MINGI FUCK ME😩😩😩😩😩 mc is such a good tutor for him wowowow 🤤🤤

Killer Eyes - @pirateprincessblog 🔥⛈️ Prisoner!Mingi ✧ Doctor!Reader

[9:47 PM] - @edenesth 💗

most vulnerable - @taexual ⛈️💗 Mafia AU

Hibiscus - @desirehorizon 🔥

Dear Princess - @ateezscupid 🔥 Medieval AU ✧ Vampire!Mingi

Unspoken Desires - @yourlocaljonghoe 🔥

play hooky - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

under the sheets - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

save a horse, ride your best friend - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗 Friends to Lovers AU

pussy drunk w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

22:46 - @seonghwaddict 💗 Roomates AU ✧ Friends to Lovers AU

country boy w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Country Boy!Mingi

Hearts Awakened, Live Alive - @sorryimananti-romantic ✨⛈️💗 Fantasy AU Demon!Mingi

tortured cursed mingi my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 this was a fic i read early on into getting into ateez and it is so fucking good 👏👏 like the concept is so interesting (esp for someone like me who hasnt watched any ghibli movies) but catch me sobbing for erebos on a daily basis😭😭😭😭😭😭

Eyes Roll - @jjunieworld 🔥

Wave - @sorryimananti-romantic 💗 Teacher AU

Tired - @hongism 🔥💗

mind over matter - @mingisaddctn 🔥

worship w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Cowboy!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Dragon!Mingi

brainless w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥💗

butterflies - @hwaslayer 🔥💗 Parent AU

11:15 pm - @minranghae 🔥

backseat serenade - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

boyfriend texts 2 - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

sacrifices - @lustfuldevils 🔥

Rainy Morning - @nateezfics 🔥

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Dry Humping - @gingersxng 🔥

Untitled - @dairyminki 💗

Fantasize - @2cupids 🔥

song mingi as boyfriend - @mybelovedwoo 🔥💗

skinny dipping - @byuntrash101 🔥 Swimmer!Mingi

Sour Candy - @0097linersb 🔥

Track 017 - 2Seater - @desirehorizon 🔥

please baby - @starminzoo 🔥

still your biggest fan - @byuntrash101 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

situationship w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun ⛈️ SMAU

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Baby Fever - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Untitled - @justaaveragereader 🔥

00:00 - @iannmin 💗

Untitled - @hrt4yongie 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 💗 College AU

friends to lovers with mingi - @lxvemaze 💗🍑 Friends to Lovers

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

Rings of Temptation - @crimsonbubble 🔥

6:52 pm - @323cutie 💗

Obsession - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥⛈️

10:02 - @kwanisms 🔥⛈️💗 Hyena!Mingi

#happy comeback day!!!!!#i predict my favorite song on this album will be selfish waltz but i feel like enough could surprise me 🤔🤔#ateez #ateez fic recs #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi angst #mingi fluff #merengue makes lists

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pinkiemachine · 20 hours ago

Text

Random Batman Thoughts…

This all partially began when I saw a post recently that featured an enraged Batman fan going after the “Soft Batman” fans. Aka, the “Good Father Bruce Wayne” fans. The person in said post claimed that, in reality, Bruce is a brutally tortured and mentally dysfunctional bad dad and frequently hits his children and should never, ever be considered “pure” as they seemed to think so many of these “naive” fans do.

I, personally, have never once considered Bruce a perfect father figure. However, I’d be lying if I said I have never wanted him to be. What’s alluring about the idea that so many of us “Soft Batman” fans have conjured up here on the internet is that, simply put, we just want to see Bruce get better. We want to see him heal. We want to see him happy, and for him to not hurt the people he cares about.

We all know he’s a brutally tortured character. We all know he’s hurting, and broken, and angry. If he wasn’t, he would cease to be Batman. However, I have a question for the people on the other side of the fandom: do you want Bruce to continue to be horrible? I feel the need to genuinely ask, because there are some individuals out there who seem to think the darkness is all there is to his character, 100% of the time (which is NOT true, by the way). I know it’s easy to come away from a run or two of the comics thinking that—the sheer number of comics written for Batman that are just so deeply depressing and dark and horrifying, is, uh… it’s not a small number—but again, that’s not every single panel of every single comic out there. There are plenty of moments where, even just for a little while, Bruce shows that he’s more than the mask. He shows us that he’s still a human being who wants to care about people. Who does love the people closest to him—or at least, he tries to, even though he’s really bad at it (and then there’s the trauma and etc etc…)

ahem

So… why do some fans want people to give up on “Soft Batman” and “Good Dad Bruce Wayne?” I’d like to think that it’s just because in the comics, by and large, Bruce is portrayed as an emotionally unavailable, difficult father figure at best, and a kidnapping psychopath at worst. And, you know, I do get wanting comic book accuracy (ESPECIALLY in this day and age) but I have a counter question… is it so bad to depict Bruce as—at the very least—trying to be a good dad? I know, I know, some fans get carried away and we make our silly little fan art of a hyper idealised Bruce, and everyone’s dancing and skipping and having a jolly good time, and I know that must seem off-putting to the hardcore fans—but guys… it’s fan fiction/fan art. This is just a playground where anyone and everyone can use their imagination to create whatever the snarfblat they want. It’s wish fulfilment, and fantasy indulgent, and good, plain fun. And for what it’s worth, I prefer people making wholesome, kind, and loving fan art rather than just more senseless blood, gore, and p***. The world doesn’t need more of that than it already has. But… as far as fans on the internet go, I say, get off their backs. This is supposed to just be for fun. I know it’s annoying, but so long as it doesn’t start affecting you and your section of the fandom and—especially—the mainline continuity, then what’s the harm? I say, let sleeping dogs lie.

HOWEVER, FOR THE RECORD I would like to say, just because I’m one of those people who enjoys the “Soft Batman” stuff, that doesn’t mean I would actually want a whole tv show of nothing but “Soft Batman.” Nor would I write a series of nothing but “Soft Batman.” (A lot of you are probably aware that I’m writing a series synopsis for my own Batman show, Superman show, Wonder Woman show, etc.) I’ve read a good chunk of Wayne Family Adventures, and while I did enjoy myself a lot, there were moments where I was like, “Okay, yeah, this is getting a little too sappy.” Like, I would never write Jason having a panic attack and all the Bat Fam being all cuddly and supportive and Bruce kissing him on the head. As sweet as the idea is… it’s just a little much. For a mainline Batman tv show or movie, it does still need the dark and the gritty and the serious, otherwise it’s just not Batman anymore. Actually, my ideal writer’s room for something like this would consist mostly of men. Preferably, men who all know, love, and respect the source material. For as much of an aspiring writer as I am, at the end of the day Batman is a boys franchise—and I think that’s how it’s meant to be and how it’s meant to stay.

To that end, there are aspects about writing Bruce’s story that I don’t have an intimacy with, but a lot of men do. And my end goal for making any kind of Batman show is to give the fans a ride they will never forget. I want to give them something that excites them, that compels them, that means something to them, that makes them cry manly tears on occasion, but mostly something that’s fun to watch. Something both kids and adults have fun watching. I love writing personal, sweet scenes, and they will still be present because I do think they matter and will make the overall narrative stronger, but I don’t ever want the show to come off as wishy washy or touchy feely all of the time. There still needs to be a lot of action, a lot of epic fight scenes, a lot of real detective work, a lot of serious discussions, a lot of world building, and as much DNA of the original comics as possible. (Minus the particularly infuriating overcomplicated plots, and the constant shock baiting for the sake of comic sales.)

I guess I say all this to say… there’s a time and place for all the aspects of Batman. There’s a time and place for the dark and the gritty and anger and the being a bad dad who doesn’t know how to raise kids, and there’s a time and a place for the healing and the love and mild silliness and Bruce trying to do better for the sake of the people around him. Isn’t that the end goal of a story like this? Isn’t the point of having Bruce go through all of this darkness to then have him learn and grow and heal and get to a better place? I personally don’t see any point in his story otherwise. The only reason—the ONLY reason—a sad, depressing story should have a sad, depressing ending is if it’s a cautionary tale and/or teaches the audience about something important. Without that, a fully sad ending to a fully sad story is just a pointless exercise in meaninglessness, and that makes for empty, shallow art and abysmal entertainment. (Perhaps there’s an exception out there, but I’ve never heard of it.) If it has to be sad, then let it be bittersweet. Let there be something of value that was gained during the story, even if the overall tone of the ending is forlorn/sombre.

As for Bruce’s story… what else could it be besides a story about healing? Bruce fights not just to keep Gotham safe, but he also fights in the hopes that at least some of his villains can be redeemed. Perhaps it’s his own way of hoping that he can be redeemed as well. And the BatFamily is, surprisingly, a perfect vessel for that story. I’ll try not to make it too sappy, but come on, going from an orphan who was almost completely alone, drowning in darkness and trauma and guilt and grief, to a man who’s made something of himself and made a difference in the world and made it better and finds himself surrounded by such a large family of people who care about him, even if it is still a little dysfunctional? That sounds like a story that’s worthwhile.

Batman cannot stay a solo act. Too much of his story DEPENDS on him having Alfred, on having Robin, and learning how to heal if he’s going to have any kind of meaningful ending at all.

Sorry for the long post, this has just been rattling around in my brain and I felt like I needed to tell someone…

#dc #dc comics #batman #bat family #discussion #thoughts #random thoughts #long post

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amiableness · 2 days ago

Text

You weren’t supposed to push her that damn hard, He thinks.

fuck, protective men will always do it for me. especially if it’s mattheo riddle

“You know what to do, dove.”

oh my god??? this line gave me butterflies

this was absolutely perfect, and i saw in the notes that this way your first fic?? no way, i don’t believe it. this is top tier. and i will never stop loving this trope. the way he’s so obsessed with reader?? i need to experience this just once in life

GREEN TIE / mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: you and mattheo attend the yule ball separately after breaking up (we’re pretending the yule ball happens every year <3)

warnings: exes to lovers, angst (if you squint), SMUT, face sitting/riding, piv, unprotected sex, mirror sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise and degradation, creampie, nipple play (? like for one sentence), dom!mattheo, profanity, use of y/n, i think thats it but let me know if you notice anything else <3

words: 4.6k

navigation mattheo riddle masterlist

“Find your partners and follow my lead,” McGonnagall’s voice rings through the room. You groan internally. Who the hell are you supposed to dance with?

At the dancing lessons for the Yule Ball throughout the past few weeks, you and your perfect boyfriend, Mattheo, had practiced together. The two of you had gone together last year as well, and the night was quite literally magical. It’s safe to say that last year’s experience really set your expectations as high as possible. The idea of experiencing that same magic again made your heart flutter with excitement. You couldn’t wait.

That was until Mattheo Riddle crushed those dreams.

Yeah, he broke up with you last week. Completely crushed your spirit. Now you have to go to the ball alone.

He’s not even here right now. Merlin knows how the hell he got out of dance practices, but he’s not here and to be honest, you’re grateful because if he was, you’d have to dance with him and that just would have been awkward.

Adrien Pucey takes notice of your lonely presence from across the room and quickly approaches, somehow oblivious to the clear grimace on your face. What choice do you have? Everyone else already has a partner.

So, you give in and try your best to keep up a polite front, taking his hand and stepping to the music, despite the burning sensation on your skin every time he touches you. It’s not a good burn like when Mattheo touched you. It doesn’t make you want to ignite the rest of your body with those flames. It makes you want to drown yourself in the Black Lake just to get away from this guy. Dancing with anyone but Mattheo feels inherently wrong. Mattheo’s hands were always cold. Pucey’s hands are warm and it’s nauseating.

You’d never really spoken to Adrien too much before but from this single dance, you’d learned one thing about him: he never stops talking.

Practically beaming with relief once it’s over, your feet carry you away before you can even realize where you’re walking, ears unconsciously tuning out the sound of Adrien yelling after you.

When you and Mattheo were dating, the whole school knew that you were off limits, Mattheo had made that abundantly clear. Boys were nervous to even think about you in the wrong way, afraid that Mattheo would somehow sneak into their minds and find out. Once the news that you two broke up spread, people were practically throwing themselves at the two of you. You could only hope that Mattheo wasn’t interested in those girls the same way you still weren’t interested in other boys.

“Get me out of here,” you whine as you grab Astoria’s wrist tightly in your hand, dragging her out of the crowded room.

After dinner in the Great Hall, you’re speed walking down the corridors back to your dorm. This was actually a great feat. For days on end, you’d been so wrecked that you could hardly get out of bed, much less leave your dorm for anything other than classes with your red eyes and messy haired state. Astoria and Pansy had been bringing you your meals. So the fact that you finally went to the Great Hall today is an accomplishment.

“Y/n! Wait!” You freeze in your tracks. God, please no. Please tell me that’s not his voice.

“Slow down. I need to talk to you, dove.” Shit, it is him.

Wait, how dare he call you that? He knows how much that nickname makes your heart melt. He can’t just go around calling you that after breaking your heart. It’s not fair.

“Do not call me that. What do you want?” You say, careful to keep your voice cold as you turn around to face him.

“Don’t be like that, dove.” Oh, screw him. “I just… I heard you’re not doing well. Hardly eating, barely sleeping, you never leave your dorm. I didn’t mean to—”

“Well, you did. That’s kind of what happens when you get dumped with no explanation.” You snap and he flinches.

“I did give you an explanation.” He counters and you feel like your head is going to explode. “Did you? My bad, it felt like a dumb excuse to get away from me. Maybe I just heard it wrong,” The sarcasm in your voice is unmistakable.

“We were toxic and you know it. I’m toxic. You deserve better.” He says softly, giving you the same shitty excuse again.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you’re bored of me, just say that. Don’t make up some idiotic excuse about how you’re not good enough for me because if it was really that way, you’d love me enough to be better for me.”

He looks like a kicked puppy. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are soft and vulnerable and he has the cutest frown on his face that you just want to kiss away. But you can’t. He sighs, gathering the strength to speak again.

“Take proper care of yourself, please. If not for yourself, then for me.” And with that, he leaves. You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your hand over your heart that seems to be aching harder than it was before.

The ball is tonight. Mattheo has a date, you heard. Hardly 2 weeks after the breakup and he’s already got another girl hanging off his arm.

Your mind refuses to process the information. He dated you for a year. He still seems to be concerned about your well being. So how did he move on so easily? It’s not fair that you’re hurting while he’s enjoying his time with some other girl.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts. Your beautifully styled hair cascades over your shoulders, emerald green dress flowing around you. You’d considered not going to the ball at all, but eventually decided against it, your girls telling you that you couldn’t miss out on this just because of your ex.

“You look beautiful as ever, Y/n/n.” For someone who can’t go 10 seconds without being sarcastic, Astoria sounds uncharacteristically genuine right now. You give her a soft smile. “Thank you, Tori. You look beautiful too.”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Pansy ushers the three of you out of the room.

By the time you get down to the ballroom, Mattheo’s already there with his date. You’d tried your hardest not to search for him in the crowd, knowing it’d only hurt, but of course, you gave into temptation. The girl was completely unfamiliar. You’d never seen her before. Could he really not have found anyone less irrelevant?

Still, your face falls and Pansy follows your line of sight, falling on Mattheo who has his arm around some girl in a red dress. You’d worn a red dress to the ball last year and you can’t help but wonder if he remembers.

Pansy steps in front of you, blocking your view. “You look better than her.” This makes you giggle. You know it’s wrong to say things like that, but in this moment of insecurity, the reassurance feels nice.

“Don’t let it get to your head. He’s not worth it.” She takes your hand and leads you to your table, but not before you take one last glance in Mattheo’s direction. This time, you notice something that makes your heart stop.

He’s wearing a green tie.

His date is in a red dress. He’s wearing a green tie. And you… you are in a green dress.

Oh my God?

Before you’d broken up, you’d planned out your outfits for the ball and obviously, his tie had to match your dress. But you didn’t expect him to still wear it after he dumped you.

Maybe you’re reading too far into it. Maybe he just couldn’t find a red tie? Maybe he couldn't find any other tie at all? No, it can’t be. He had to have done it on purpose.

You tear your eyes away from him and walk away. Mattheo, meanwhile, is dying on the inside. The second he stepped into the ballroom, his mind was flooded with memories.

Memories of last year at the Yule Ball with Y/n, his Y/n. Her long red dress with the slit on the side and the off the shoulder sleeves and the sparkles at the top. He remembered every detail of that dress. She was always gorgeous, but he was sure she'd never looked more beautiful than she did that night, and it wasn’t only because she was all done up. It was because she had this excitement that night, this dazzling smile on her face. He was hypnotized.

No other girl compared to her. Every other dress looked like a damn dishrag in his mind compared to you. All night, the only question in his mind was, “How did I get this lucky?”

He remembered dancing with you that night. It was early in your relationship, you hadn’t even had your first kiss together yet. It was still easy for him to make you blush. You giggled at every stupid word, every corny pick up line he whispered in your ear.

“That dress looks uncomfortable. You should let me take it off of you.” He’d whispered with a wink as you waltzed and you’d blessed him with the angelic sound of your laugh, shushing him. He kept stepping on the ends of your expensive dress, but it was even because you kept stepping on his shoes with your heels. You blushed in embarrassment every time and he’d have to pry your hands away from your shy face.

You’d bumped into people while dancing but you were too wrapped up in each other to be embarrassed or to even notice. Mattheo flipped off anyone who stared or gave you weird looks for laughing too loud.

“Don’t mess up my makeup. I spent an hour on it.” You’d told him, to which he’d smiled mischievously and ended up kissing your cheek. It was only at that end of the night, after he’d walked you back to your dorm whilst carrying your heels, that he’d kissed you for the first time with his hands on the soft, supple skin of your face. The way you’d stared at him with your cute doe eyes, full of wonder and joy, after he’d pulled away is forever engraved in his brain. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were red and in Mattheo’s opinion, you’d never looked more adorable. He remembered looking down at you and seeing the glow of your makeup in the dimly lit dorm halls. God, you had him mesmerized.

But that was over now. He has a different girl on his arm now. He should at least try to enjoy his night, right?

He looks at the girl only to find her already staring at him and as guilty as he feels for it, all he can think is that she can’t hold a candle to Y/n. Not to her beauty, her wit, her humor, her soft voice, her captivating eyes, her radiant smile. Nothing.

His eyes mindlessly wander around the room and land on Y/n for the first time and suddenly he’s floored. He’s frozen, butterflies flying from his stomach and up his throat.

He hadn’t seen you in your dress before. He thought that you in your red dress at last year’s ball was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. Oh, how wrong he was.

You look unreal tonight. He can’t help but wonder if you even came from this planet. Is it possible for a human being to be so perfect?

The only thing missing is that radiant smile you showed off last year, the one he was so used to seeing grace your pretty face every time he walked into a room with you in it.

Now, you just look… bored. Empty, even. And he wishes he could put back the smile that he stole from you. You look incomplete without it.

His own stupid self-sabotaging tendencies are the reason why he’s not dancing with you right now and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s nowhere near good enough for you, but is it so wrong to be selfish? He is just a man, after all.

The night goes by miserably for the both of you. You, sitting alone at your table, occasionally walking over to get some punch, and Mattheo, dancing with a girl who he guiltily pretends is you.

Occasionally, you’d make eye contact and you wouldn’t even bother to hide the pain in your eyes, looking from him to the girl beside him. You hope he feels bad.

He does.

Picking at your freshly done nails, you huff in boredom. Glancing up, you notice something strange. Pansy’s talking to Theodore in the corner of the room? Well, it’s not too strange, I guess, but it’s interesting. Pansy stopped talking to Theo as a sign of loyalty to you, since Theo was Mattheo’s best friend. So what could they possibly be talking about?

The night is filled with tension filled staring and lingering glances with Mattheo and suddenly, you’ve had enough of sitting around, informing Pansy that you’re leaving. She frowns in disappointment.

“Hold on, just one more dance. Please?” She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you sigh, giving in. Pansy drags you to the dance floor where the two of you move together to the upbeat music, when suddenly, a slow song starts playing. You sigh, turning to leave when Pansy grabs your hand. “Nuh uh, just dance with me.” She tells you, putting her hands on your waist.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion but don’t object.

Her smile turns from gleeful to apologetic within a second. “Hey, I’m really sorry.” She winks at you and now you’re more confused than ever. “What?” You ask but before you can get a response, you’re being shoved away. You stumble over your dress and your back crashes into some guy's chest, his hands instantly finding your shoulders to steady you.

“I’m so sorry, I—” You start but cut yourself off when you recognize the scent of the cologne behind you. You turn around to find your ex-boyfriend who seems to be glaring at Pansy behind you. You weren’t supposed to push her that damn hard, He thinks.

“Sorry,” You repeat bluntly before trying to walk away but he catches your arm. “Don’t walk away.” He tells you, his voice firm but you can hear an underlying sense of… desperation?

“Having fun with your date?” You ask bitterly, a petty smile on your face. It seems you couldn’t care less that you were on the dance floor in the middle of a bunch of people. You were ready to argue right here, right now. His jaw clenches in frustration. “No.” He answers simply.

“No? Seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me.” You tell him. You know that’s not true, even you could admit that he looked miserable all night, but you were caught up in jealousy. What could you do?

“Y/n, she’s nothing to me.”

You just scoff. “Yeah, right. You know, I actually don’t doubt that. Clearly you have a way of getting girls to believe they mean something to you only for you to drop them like they’re nothing.” You practically rip your arm out of his grasp and walk away, leaving the ballroom. He follows you outside into the courtyard.

“Dove, please. Listen to me,” he begs.

You don’t reply as you just keep walking.

“I love you!” He shouts in a desperate attempt to get you to stop running from him.

And you stop in your tracks. You can’t move. Your limbs are frozen. Why can’t you move? Move!

Taking advantage of your solid state, he walks to you and stands in front of you, taking your face in his hands. Suddenly, you’re teary eyed.

“I love you.” He reiterates in a whisper. “I still do.”

You swallow hard. Why is your chest burning? Is it hope or is it anger?

“Let me explain, okay? I wanted to be here with you tonight. That girl… She’s just a distraction. I thought… I thought that if I came with someone else, maybe I’d get you out of my head, but it only made it worse, baby.” He says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Your stomach flips at the pet name.

“I hate that I took that beautiful smile off of your face. You look fucking stunning, dove. But you don’t look right without your pretty smile… I’m so fucking sorry I broke your heart. I thought I was doing it for your own good but you’re hurting now and that hurts me. Look, baby, I’m not good enough for you. I know that. But for once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna let myself be selfish. Please come back to me.”

You’re left in silence, stunned, lips parted to say something but you can’t fucking speak.

“My arms feel empty without you in them.” He whispers. “Say something, please. Don’t let me get my hopes up.” He sounds so sad but his eyes are so big and hopeful.

Fuck. Did you ever really believe you stood a chance against his charm? Of course, you’d give in.

You lean up and place the softest, most tender kiss possible on his cheek and his eyes widen. The most beautiful smile graces his lips and he kisses you as if he’s never done it before, like he’d never get the chance to do it again.

You kiss him back feverishly, hands running through his tousled curls and his hands squeeze your hips. The kiss quickly becomes hungry, passionate, desperate, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck. When you pull away, it’s only because you need air. Breathless, you rest your forehead against his.

“Baby… Let me show you just how much I love this dress on you. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” His voice is husky and raw and you can’t help the heat that rushes between your legs.

You nod vigorously and he takes your hand, walking you towards his dorm but your heels are slowing you down far too much for his impatient self. Without warning, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to his dorm, holding your heels in his other hand.

He lets you down and locks the door the second you get in before walking you over to the floor length mirror by his bed, standing behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder as you stare at yourselves in the mirror. His hands run up and down your body, running over the silk material of your dress.

“How did I survive two weeks without touching you?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You see how fuckin’ beautiful you look? You couldn’t expect me to control myself all night.”

His hand goes to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulder before undoing the back and letting the dress fall down, the green silk pooling around your ankles.

“Two weeks without this sight… Why did I do that to myself?” You’re sure he’s practically talking to himself at this point, but you don’t mind, enjoying the feeling and the sight of his fingers grazing over your hardening nipples in the mirror.

“I’m gonna fuck you right in front of this mirror so you can see how perfect you are… So you can see that no other girl, especially not my little date that you were so jealous of, could ever compare to you…” Standing behind you, his chest pressed against your now bare back, he placed kisses on your neck and down to your shoulder before shedding off his jacket and button up.

His index and middle finger travel to your jaw, turning your head to the side so he can kiss your perfect lips. His tongue grazes over your bottom lip while his hand squeezes your tit, eliciting a gasp from you and he slides his tongue in between your lips, exploring your mouth.

He kisses you as if to make up for the time that he couldn’t, as if those two weeks were an eternity of being away from you. To him, that’s what it felt like.

His mouth trails down from your lips to your jaw and to your neck, lightly sucking and leaving wet kisses. One hand stays firmly placed on your breast while the other wanders down your belly, to between your legs. You gasp, watching in the mirror. His fingers push your panties to the side and run over your soaked folds, teasing and stroking lightly but never entering you.

“Mattheo…” You murmur, staring at his biceps in the mirror, your eyes wandering down to the bulge in his pants, making it obvious that you want him naked too.

“Shh, baby. We’re gonna take it slow this time, okay? I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you.” He kisses your temple before laying down on the bed, flat on his back.

“You know what to do, dove.” He murmurs and your breath hitches. You quickly strip off your panties and move to straddle his face between your legs. You hover over him hesitantly and he senses your uncertainty.

“Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” He encourages you, rubbing his hands on your thighs soothingly. “Sit.” He demands, his voice gentle but firm.

You give in, slowly sinking down and his hands are instantly on your ass, urging you closer to him. He groans appreciatively as he feels the full weight of your pussy against his face. His tongue flicks against your clit before licking a long stripe up your slit, exploring deeper. His hands move to your inner thighs, kneading the muscle gently as he continues to worship your womanhood. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you ride his face.

“Fuck, Matt,” You lose yourself in pleasure, grinding against his face and he moans into your pussy, the vibrations driving you wild. His tongue circles your entrance and you let out a soft gasp.

His ministrations never falter, it seems like he could never get tired of tasting you. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of it in the mirror and you feel like you could cum just looking at it.

His tongue darts in and out of your pussy bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He sucks on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body, your moans and cries of delight only encouraging him to continue his sensual assault on your cunt. Your breathing turns shallow, struggling to hold yourself back as he fucks you with his tongue.

“ ’m gonna cum, Matty,” You mumble, too dazed to think straight. Mattheo’s mouth waters as he feels your juices drip down his chin while he continues to feast on your cunt. His hands squeeze your ass tight, encouraging you to ride his face harder, savoring the taste of his work. “Cum for me, baby.” He whispers sweetly, hot breath against your cunt.

You let go and come all over his mouth while he works to swallow every drop. You pant, finally looking away from the mirror as you get off of him. He smiles at you from below before sitting up and kissing you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips.

“You taste like heaven, dove.” He tells you, stroking your cheek gently as he watches your pretty face in its post-orgasmic grace.

“Need your cock, Matty.” You mumble.

“Oh, do you, now? Two weeks and you’re this desperate to be fucked? You really are my little cockslut, aren’t you?” He coos at you and you look away, embarrassed knowing that he’s right.

While he strips off his dress pants, you get on all fours, ready for him to take you from behind, facing the headboard. His hand finds purchase on your hip and flips you over to the other side of the bed so you’re facing the mirror.

“Know just what to do, don't you? Such a good girl. But, now I want you to watch me as I fuck you so hard, you can’t see straight.” He tells you, positioning himself behind you. His hand presses down on your lower back, urging you to arch.

“You ready?” He asks, running his tip over your folds and teasing you. You nod desperately. “Words, baby.” He commands.

“I’m ready, just please fuck me, Matty.” You whine desperately. He gives a dark chuckle before sliding in without warning, watching carefully in the mirror as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

He leans down to place a tender kiss on your head as his thrusts speed up. You feel a shift in motion as Mattheo starts to move faster inside you, his hips slamming against your ass. Your head falls forward as you feel your brain turning to mush in mind-numbing pleasure. His hand grasps you by the hair and pulls your head up so you’re forced to watch him fuck you from behind in the mirror. His other hand slides down to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefingers.

“You see how fuckin’ pretty you look like this?” He asks, his voice soft yet hoarse as he stares you in the eyes. “Couldn’t ever live without this.” He groans.

“Talk to me, princess. Tell me how it feels.” He says it like he absolutely needs to hear it from you. “So good… Y’fuck me so good, Mattheo.” Your words come out in incoherent babbles and he smiles, loving how dumb he can make you.

His hand travels down your body, finding its way between your legs and rubbing at your clit while each movement of his thrusts push him deeper inside you.

“I’m close.” You warn him. “I know. I can feel your pussy fucking squeezing me.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back.

He lets go of your hair to bring his hand down to your stomach, just below your navel, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach made by his dick. “You feel me, baby?” He pants, his voice husky.

You nod, a few tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined. “Feels so good, Matty.” You whimper.

”Who does this tight little cunt belong to?” He asks.

“You!” You moan, his length stroking your walls. You can feel his head brushing your cervix repeatedly.

”And who does this cock belong to?” he asks. You’re so cockdrunk that you can hardly think straight but you know you have to answer his question if you want him to let you cum.

“Me. It belongs to me.” You tell him. He smiles, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.

“Let go for me, baby.” He tells you and you immediately do, cumming all over his cock. He keeps fucking you, working towards his own orgasm and soon enough, he shoots his load deep inside of you before pulling out and peppering soft kisses all over your bare back.

“I missed you, Matty.” You mumble, letting yourself collapse forward on the bed, to which he chuckles, gently running his fingers down your back. His eyes are trained on your pussy and he uses his fingers to stuff his cum back inside you before it can leak out, your body jolting at the sensation.

“Not as much as I missed you, baby.” He kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes fall on his discarded green tie on the floor next to your green dress. You smile.

He never stopped being yours.

first fic! i lowkey hate it and this is my first time writing smut so i apologize if its a bit awkward or confusing 😕💔 thank you sm for reading !! 💘

#mattheo riddle rec #minors this isn’t for you <3

1K notes · View notes

goblin-jr · 2 days ago

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And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

Part 11 of 12

Synopsis: whodunit? More like who’s not doing the most at the midsummers ball. A look into JJ’s head

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: violence?

masterlist

—

JJ’s loafers clicked softly on the polished floor as he walked into the ballroom, the scent of expensive perfume and overripe fruit hanging heavy in the air. There was something about these events that always made him feel out of place. The Kooks thrived on it—this display of excess, of wealth that didn’t belong to them but was flaunted like some kind of badge. He hated it. And yet here he was, once again, a part of it.

The Midsummer’s Ball wasn’t just any party. It was the party for the Kooks. Extravagant. Ridiculous. A display of everything they stood for—money, status, and an obnoxious level of entitlement. The country club ballroom glittered with chandeliers, fancy drinks, and a crowd of smug faces that made JJ want to roll his eyes every time someone walked by. If there was a competition for the most extravagant Kook event of the year, this would be the winner. He’d been here before, but it never got easier to stomach.

Tonight, though, there was a sense of something bigger hovering over him. Three things he had to keep in mind, three things that kept him from getting too lost in the sea of perfect hair and oversized smiles.

First, serve drinks. Get the tips. That part was easy enough. He could charm a few of the older women in the crowd, toss out a few sarcastic comments, make them laugh, and pocket a couple extra bills. If he was lucky, he'd avoid the worst of the Kooks' weirdness and maybe even walk out of here with a few hundred bucks.

Second, keep John B safe. It wasn’t just the Kooks that bothered him. John B was—well, John B. He had no business being here, and everyone knew it. He didn’t belong in this world, no matter how much he tried to act like he did. JJ could already picture the way the Kooks will look at him—especially Topper, who will be practically frothing at the mouth when John B makes his first public appearance with Sarah tonight. Topper wasn’t the only one JJ was keeping an eye on. There were bound to be others, too, people who saw John B as the perfect punching bag. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not tonight.

And then there was Y/N. The third thing on his mind. Y/N was acting differently tonight. He couldn’t quite explain it—maybe it was the way her eyes were shining a little brighter than usual, or the way she kept smiling at random moments, like she knew some secret that made the whole night seem like a fairy tale. It pissed him off. That wasn’t like Y/N. She was always so... grounded. So real. But tonight? Tonight, she looked like she had everything figured out, like she was actually enjoying herself here. And that confused him. A lot.

He looked at her again as she walked beside him, the soft curve of her lips pulled into a smile. He didn’t return it, of course. Instead, he muttered something about the Kooks and their ridiculous champagne glasses, trying to make light of it, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Something about her.

“You good?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but his tone was sharp. Too sharp.

Y/N glanced at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was something in the way she looked at him, something that made his heart skip. She was... happy. Too happy. He hated it.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she replied, her voice steady but a little too light. There it was again—that smile. That confidence. It was like she didn’t need to hide anymore. Like she was finally okay with being here, with all of this.

“Right,” JJ muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked further into the ballroom. “Can’t say I’m feeling the same. This place is a joke.”

She laughed softly, but it wasn’t the same kind of laugh she usually gave. It was lighter, almost... carefree.

He didn’t get it. What changed? He'd known Y/N for years, had watched her go through every kind of mess, every kind of heartbreak, but she’d always had that edge to her, that guarded, "don’t mess with me" attitude. She didn’t belong here, just like John B. But tonight, she didn’t seem to care about that. And that made JJ feel... unsettled.

As they reached the catering area, Pope was already elbow-deep in trays of untouched food, and JJ tossed him a lazy salute. Pope just sighed, his frustration clear even from across the room.

“You set up all this mess yourself?” JJ asked, raising an eyebrow at the absurdity of the spread. There was more food here than anyone could possibly eat, but that didn’t stop the Kooks from acting like it was some sort of prize.

“Do you ever stop complaining?” Pope shot back, adjusting a tray with a little more force than necessary.

“Nope.” JJ grinned back, slipping into his usual easy sarcasm. “The food’s not the problem, Pope. It’s the fact that none of these assholes are even gonna care to finish it. They’ll drink their champagne and pretend to care about all this ‘fancy’ food, and then throw it all away when they’re done, just like everything else in this goddamn world.”

Pope didn’t bother responding. He just continued arranging the food like he didn’t care anymore, which, honestly, he probably didn’t. They both hated being here, surrounded by people who didn’t even see them as human, but the money was good, and the world had a way of forcing them to stay put.

“Yeah, well, don’t forget that we’re all just here to make money,” Pope muttered, and JJ didn’t argue. Pope had long stopped pretending to like any of this. They all had.

JJ’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, still standing by the drink station, her body language more relaxed than he’d ever seen it. She wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t paying attention to him at all. She was too busy talking to some Kook girl about something—probably some stupid brand of perfume or a new designer bag, knowing them.

That smile, though. He couldn’t shake it.

He knew he should focus on the job, on keeping John B safe, on avoiding the Kooks as much as possible. But Y/N? She was making it damn hard to do any of that. It wasn’t just the fact that she was so... different tonight. It was the look in her eyes which looks like she has everything figured out, the way she barely looked at him anymore.

That was the thing about Y/N. She had this way of getting under his skin, making him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Like jealousy. Or uncertainty. He hated it. But he couldn’t just ignore it. Not with the way she’d been acting, not when she seemed like she was in on some secret he wasn’t part of.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.

Tonight was about John B. Tonight was about staying one step ahead of the Kooks, about making sure no one touched his best friend.

But damn if that little voice in his head didn’t keep screaming What’s going on with Y/N?

—

The air in the ballroom was thick, suffocating, with the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation surrounding him. JJ moved through the crowd with his usual swagger, but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the weight of every Kook’s gaze seemed to land a little harder on his shoulders, and it wasn’t just because of the way they looked at him. It was the way they looked at her—Y/N. She was everywhere, serving drinks and refilling trays with that damn smile on her face, like she actually belonged here.

He’d been trying to keep his head down, serve his drinks, and get through the night without getting caught up in the mess, but every time he glanced in her direction, he found his eyes locked on her. There was something about her tonight that rubbed him the wrong way. She was too damn happy. Too effortless, too easy with the Kooks, laughing at their stupid jokes, making conversation like she wasn’t the same Y/N who used to roll her eyes at every Kook in sight. He couldn’t figure it out.

It wasn’t like Y/N didn’t deserve a little fun. Hell, she was always the one holding things together, making sure everyone else was alright. But this—this wasn’t her. Not the way she was acting. Not the way she was fitting in with them, letting them talk to her like she was one of them. JJ couldn’t stomach it. She wasn’t a part of their world, and for some reason, it hurt to see her acting like she was.

As she passed by him, her tray of drinks balanced effortlessly in her hands, JJ’s eyes tracked her every move. He watched as she made her way over to a table of Kooks—glistening with their designer clothes and condescending grins. They were looking at her like they were interested. And that wasn’t something JJ was prepared to handle.

His chest tightened, a hot wave of jealousy gnawing at him. She handed drinks out with that damn smile still on her face, and that was when he saw him. Rafe. Of course.

Rafe was leaning against the far side of a table, his signature smirk plastered on his face. When Y/N got close, he straightened up, his eyes locking onto hers with a predatory gleam that sent an uneasy shiver down JJ’s spine. As she handed him a drink, a small bracelet glittered on Rafe’s arm. Their fingers brushed as their hands met. But it wasn’t just a casual hand-off. It was too slow, too deliberate. And when their hands lingered for a second too long, JJ felt a surge of irritation.

There was something in the way Rafe looked at her. It was... familler. JJ knew that look. He’d seen it before. It was the look Rafe reserved for people he was too close to—people he thought he had some kind of claim on. And the worst part? Y/N didn’t seem to register it. She didn’t seem to notice the way Rafe’s gaze followed her like a shadow, tracking her every move. JJ’s gut twisted. There was something off about this. And he needed to find out what.

He couldn’t let it slide. Not tonight.

He slipped through the crowd, his eyes never leaving her as he moved toward the bar area where she was. When he finally caught up with her, he tried to keep his voice light, to make it seem like he was just messing around, but the tension in his chest couldn’t be ignored.

“Yo, is Rafe bothering you?” He kept his tone casual, but there was a sharp edge to his words.

Y/N barely looked at him when she responded, waving him off like it was nothing. “No, not at all, JJ. He’s fine.”

But there was something in the way she said it, something that didn’t sit right with him. Her voice was too soft, too dismissive. And the way she wasn’t meeting his eyes? That was another red flag. Something was wrong, and JJ didn’t like it.

His fingers itched to pull her aside, to demand that she tell him what was going on. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Before he could press her, the doors of the ballroom swung open, and suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The crowd’s murmur grew louder, more excited. JJ turned to see who had arrived, and his eyes narrowed when he saw them.

Sarah and John B.

Sarah looked every bit the Kook she was, her smile dazzling, her confidence radiating from her. She had the whole place eating out of her hand, even without trying. But John B? His messy hair, that plain shirt—it was like a neon sign saying, I don’t belong here. JJ watched him shift uncomfortably under the weight of every Kook’s scrutinizing gaze, his eyes darting around the room as if he was looking for a way out.

The whispers started instantly, loud enough for JJ to catch a few snippets.

“Is that John B?”

"Why is he here? Who invited the pogues?”

JJ’s jaw clenched as the cruel laughter followed. The Kooks weren’t just gossiping—they were tearing John B apart like he was some kind of freak show. And JJ wasn’t about to stand for it. His blood boiled, and he could feel every bit of their judgment like it was a physical punch.

“Damn, they’re ruthless,” Pope muttered from behind him. JJ didn’t need to look to know Pope was just as pissed. They both hated the way the Kooks treated people like John B.

“They always are,” JJ growled, scanning the room for any sign of Topper. Sure enough, he spotted the smug bastard weaving through the crowd, zeroing in on John B like he was prey.

“John B,” JJ muttered under his breath. “I’m coming, man.”

As he pushed his way through the crowd, JJ’s gaze caught on Kie. She had just entered, and damn, she looked hot. The way her violet dress clung to her, the confident smile she wore, the way she moved—JJ couldn’t help but stare for a second. He quickly shook himself out of it, though. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.

Kie noticed him watching, raising an eyebrow as she approached. “What’s got you all worked up?”

JJ nodded in John B’s direction. “The usual. Kooks being Kooks.”

“Figures.” She crossed her arms, eyes darting between JJ and the group of Kooks. “You’ve got this under control, right?”

“Yeah,” JJ said, his voice low, still watching Topper’s every move. “Just gotta make sure they don’t escalate things.”

Topper was already making his move, slithering through the crowd with that smug, self-satisfied grin on his face. JJ knew exactly what was coming. Topper always had a way of making things worse. Always knew how to rile up the Kooks, to make them turn on anyone they saw as beneath them. And right now? John B was the perfect target.

“John B,” JJ muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. He started weaving through the crowd, cutting a path toward his best friend.

He found John B by the punch bowl, looking a little lost, a little out of place, his hands hovering awkwardly by his side as Sarah chatted with some of her friends.

“Yo, man,” JJ called out, tapping him on the shoulder. “You gotta watch out. Topper and his crew are already talking about you. They’re looking for an excuse to start something.”

John B glanced at him, then at Sarah, his frown deepening. “I can’t leave. I promised Sarah I’d stay with her.”

JJ sighed. He hated this. He hated that John B felt like he had to put himself through this just to be with Sarah. But he knew how much she meant to him.

“Just keep your head down,” JJ warned, his voice low but firm. “Don’t give them an excuse. And don’t let Sarah get too close to them.”

Pope and Kie appeared behind them, looking just as concerned. “We’ll make sure he’s good,” Pope said, giving JJ a reassuring look.

JJ gave a tight nod, but as he turned away, his eyes flicked back to the crowd. And there, lurking in the periphery, was Rafe. Again. Always watching Y/N. Never letting her out of his sight.

The night passed in a blur of drinks, whispers, and quiet tension. JJ kept a close eye on John B, moving through the crowd like a shadow. And Rafe—Rafe was everywhere, always within arm’s reach of Y/N, watching her with that same unsettling gaze. It was like the guy had an invisible tether to her, never letting her out of his sight.

JJ wanted to intervene, wanted to ask what was going on, but something told him that wasn’t his place. It wasn’t the time.

—

The Kooks were loud, the music was booming, and JJ had been doing everything in his power to keep an eye on John B, but it wasn’t easy with the way things were escalating.

Suddenly, he saw John B make a move toward the back hall. JJ’s gut twisted. Don’t go alone, man.

“Pope!” JJ called out, his voice sharp. “Kie!”

Pope was already moving toward him, and Kie was right behind, the two of them looking as restless as he felt.

“John B’s heading to the bathroom,” JJ said urgently. “Topper and his crew are on the prowl. We need to go.”

“Of course, this is exactly what we need right now,” Pope muttered, his eyes scanning the crowd. Kie’s expression darkened as she followed him through the ballroom.

JJ’s eyes flicked back to Y/N for a brief moment, just enough time for him to catch a glimpse of her laughing with the Kooks. She didn’t look like she was in trouble—yet. But Rafe’s presence still gnawed at him. His focus snapped back to John B.

“Go,” JJ ordered. “I’ll keep an eye on things from behind.”

Pope, Kie, and JJ cut through the crowd, weaving between people like shadows. As they hit the back hallways, JJ cursed under his breath. They were too late.

Topper was standing at the bathroom door, the rest of his gang flanking him like a pack of wolves. John B was stuck, looking trapped as Topper smirked at him.

“Well, well, well,” Topper’s voice oozed with malicious satisfaction. “If it isn’t the Pogue who thinks he’s good enough for Sarah.”

JJ’s heart hammered as he pushed forward, Pope and Kie right on his heels.

“John B,” JJ called, voice low, but loud enough to be heard. “You alright?”

John B shot him a quick, almost relieved look. “You know how it goes, man. Topper’s just pissed I’m with Sarah.”

“Yeah, I figured that much,” JJ grumbled. He kept his gaze locked on Topper. “You need to move, man. This isn’t the place for this shit.”

“Not until I’m done,” Topper sneered, stepping forward. “You think you can walk around here like you belong, B? You’re nothing but trash.” He shoved John B, sending him stumbling back into the hallway wall.

JJ’s blood boiled. “Get your hands off him, Topper.”

But Topper wasn’t done. He swung at John B again, his group following in his lead. The hall was tight, but there was enough room for fists to fly. Pope stepped forward to back John B up, while Kie, cool-headed as always, sized up the situation.

Before JJ could get another word in, a punch was thrown, connecting with John B’s jaw. JJ jumped into the fray, grabbing Topper’s arm and twisting it behind his back, slamming him into the wall with a sickening thud. Pope had Topper’s lackeys occupied, keeping them from ganging up on John B.

Kie, standing near the ornate curtains that hung along the hallway, caught a glimpse of the situation escalating. Her eyes darted between the fight and the tension in the room. Without a second thought, she grabbed one of the nearby candle holders, lighting the end of one of the velvet curtains on fire.

The flames caught quickly, sending a wave of heat and light through the hallway. The Kooks’ eyes widened in fear as the fire began to lick the sides of the curtains.

“Shit!” Kie hissed, grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall. She quickly sprayed the flames, but not before the fire had spread enough to cause a ruckus. The Kooks were freaking out, scrambling to get away from the heat.

“Let’s go! Now!” JJ shouted.

They didn’t need any more prompting. The Kooks scattered, some tripping over their own feet, others too stunned to do much. The fight had lost its steam as the chaos of the fire consumed the hall. JJ grabbed John B’s arm, pulling him away from the wreckage.

“You good?” JJ panted.

“Yeah, yeah,” John B replied, wiping his face. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

They headed for the back door, but as JJ looked behind them, the sound of the fire alarms blaring and the chaos of the guests flooding into the hallway only added to the madness. JJ scanned the panicked faces in the ballroom but Y/N was nowhere to be found. JJ did another scan and his blood ran cold. Y/N was missing, but so was Rafe. With this realization, JJ turned on his heel and ran towards the parking lot.

But as soon as JJ stepped outside, the cold night air hit his skin like a slap. The parking lot was eerily quiet compared to the chaos of the country club, the only sounds being the distant blare of fire alarms and the low hum of the streetlights. He was scanning the area, trying to catch his breath after the mess with Topper and his crew, when something—someone—stopped him in his tracks.

His heart skipped a beat.

There, with her back turned to him, was Y/N.

She was farther away than he expected, just past the edge of the parking lot, but there was no mistaking her. Her hair was glowing in the light, illuminated like she was caught in a scene out of a dream. And then, his stomach twisted when he saw him.

Rafe.

His hand was resting low on her back, fingers spread wide as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The scene hit JJ like a punch to the gut. The sight of Rafe, standing so close to Y/N, smiling down at her with that smug, self-assured look—like he owned the damn world—made JJ’s blood boil.

He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the anger flooding through his veins, pushing out everything else. What the hell is going on here? He barely thought it through before his mouth opened.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice thick with something between panic and fury. It wasn’t even the volume of his voice—it was the raw emotion in it, the protective streak he hadn’t been able to shake off for months.

Without a second thought, he took two strides forward, every muscle in his body coiled, ready to pull Rafe off her. He wasn’t going to let this happen—not when he thought something was wrong. He couldn’t explain why he felt so suddenly defensive, but seeing her so close to Rafe like that, it triggered something deep in him, something urgent.

But then—

She turned, her face illuminated by the moonlight.

It was subtle at first—just a soft flicker in her expression, but it was enough to make JJ stop dead in his tracks. His heart stuttered, the air in his lungs freezing.

Y/N’s smile wasn’t just a grin—it was something else. The kind of smile that lit up a whole damn room. But it wasn’t just that—it was the look in her eyes, the joy that was shining there like he’d never seen before. She wasn’t just content, or amused. She was radiating happiness. Pure, unguarded, untainted joy. The kind of joy that no one could fake.

Her laugh, soft and melodic, floated on the air, and it was in that moment, standing frozen in the parking lot, that JJ realized something that knocked the wind out of him.

Y/N was happy.

She wasn’t just smiling out of politeness, or trying to force herself through a conversation. No. She was completely in the moment, the tension in her shoulders gone, her whole body open and light in a way he hadn’t seen in months.

A sick feeling washed over him, a cold realization that hit deeper than any punch could.

This wasn’t what he thought it was.

Y/N wasn’t in danger. She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t... anything he’d imagined. Rafe wasn’t threatening her, wasn’t making her uncomfortable. They were just... talking. Laughing. And it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t the nervous, shaky smile she used to give when she didn’t know where she stood.

Rafe’s hand, still resting on her back, didn’t look threatening anymore. It just looked like... well, it looked like something they’d both been comfortable with for a long time, something that had never been in JJ’s purview.

JJ stood there, watching them for what felt like an eternity. His legs felt heavy, like they were cemented to the ground, his chest tight as he tried to reconcile the image of Y/N—his Y/N—with Rafe standing so close to her, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

His heart hammered, but in the wrong way now. The rage that had flared up in him moments before suddenly deflated, leaving nothing but confusion and guilt.

Y/N wasn’t in trouble. She wasn’t even thinking about him. She was... happy. Happier than he’d seen her in so long. And he had no right to ruin that.

For a moment, JJ just stood there, paralyzed, as the scene played out before him. Rafe was leaning in, saying something, and Y/N was listening, hanging on his every word. JJ’s heart twisted, but he didn’t move. He didn’t step forward. He didn’t charge in like he had originally planned.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he made his decision. He turned, slowly, and walked away from the scene, his feet heavy as they carried him back toward the club. His mind was racing, filled with questions he didn’t have the answers to.

He wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain—whatever was happening between Y/N and Rafe, it wasn’t his place to interfere. Not tonight.

At least, not yet.

—-

A/n: this was highkey not where the story was going to go…. Shoutout to @immyowndefender for putting the thought of JJ figuring the mystery out before Y/N tells him in my head.

I might do a bonus in a bit to see the ball from Y/N’s perspective. There is so much potential for cute rafe moments.

One chapter left!!!

—

Next time: the end of the road

–

Taglist:

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86 , @urbrunettebombshell, @fluffybunnyu , @stars4birdie

#obx4 #obx #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x reader

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 days ago

Text

Sunshine & Shadow

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley X Female!Reader

Warnings: fluff, reader is the sunshine to Simon’s shadowy self (think of it as girly!reader x guard dog!Simon)

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, i just had to write for him, he’s perfect for this

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Simon Riley wasn’t used to color. Not in the literal sense—he’d seen it all, but his life had been painted in dark tones, an endless palette of blacks, greys, and the muted browns of grime. The quiet, the shadows—those were his comfort zones, safe from the bright, chaotic world outside.

So when he met you, his “sunshine and rainbows” girlfriend, it was like someone had thrown open the windows and let a flood of color spill into his life.

Simon never thought his evening coffee stop would be anything more than routine. It was a small café he’d found, quiet and out of the way, perfect for unwinding without distractions. And then, there was you.

You’d stood out from the moment he walked in. Dressed in a pastel cardigan and holding a sparkly pink notebook, you had an aura that practically radiated warmth. He felt your gaze on him the instant he entered, and as he moved to take a seat in the corner, you surprised him by flashing a big, friendly smile.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before!” you said, waving a little as he sat down.

Simon froze, unsure of how to respond. People didn’t normally approach him, and certainly not like this. He gave a quick nod, hoping it would signal the end of the interaction. But you had other plans.

“Are you reading anything good?” you asked, eyeing the worn book in his hand. Simon didn’t look up, but he could feel you staring. Relenting, he held up the book to show you the cover.

“History,” he muttered.

“Ooh, history,” you mused, nodding with genuine enthusiasm. “I don’t know much about history, but I like learning new things. What’s this one about?”

And just like that, he found himself talking to you. Simon didn’t know why, but the way you listened—eyes bright, smile wide—made him feel at ease. What started as an accidental conversation turned into an exchange of phone numbers, and soon after, into regular meetings. You, with your pastel colors and genuine kindness, had broken through his guarded walls in a way he didn’t see coming.

It had taken Simon some time to work up the courage to ask you out for a proper date. The idea of dressing up, going somewhere crowded, and acting “normal” was daunting. But when he finally asked, your eyes lit up, and you’d agreed immediately, looking as excited as he’d ever seen you.

He’d chosen a small, dimly-lit restaurant that seemed perfect for a quiet evening. However, as soon as you both arrived, everything seemed to go wrong. The place was overbooked and loud, and they’d somehow lost the reservation he’d made. After an awkward ten-minute wait, he looked over at you, tense and apologetic.

“Should we… just leave?” he asked, voice low. He hated that the date wasn’t going as planned, especially when he saw the way your expression fell slightly.

You forced a smile, clearly trying to hide any disappointment. “Maybe that’s a good idea. It’s a bit… hectic here.”

Simon nodded, relieved you weren’t too upset. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a place nearby we can go back to.”

Once you were out of the chaos of the restaurant, he slipped his hand into yours, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles in apology. When you both got back to his place, you plopped onto the couch, sighing.

“Okay, what do we do now?” you asked, glancing around his sparsely decorated space, your eyes sparkling with that familiar curiosity.

Simon shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Fancy some takeout?”

Within minutes, you were settled on his couch, sharing boxes of takeout in your nice clothes, a laugh slipping past your lips at the situation. This was not the evening he’d planned, but somehow, seeing you there, comfortable in his space, made it feel better than he could’ve imagined.

As the night wore on, you took off your heels and pulled your legs up under you, completely at ease. Simon watched you, his usually stoic expression softening as he felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him.

“Thanks for not making a fuss about tonight,” he murmured, looking at you. “I wanted it to be… I dunno. Special.”

You laughed, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. “Si, this is special. It’s just… us.” You smiled up at him, sincerity in your eyes. “Besides, I like this. I’m getting to know the real you.”

He looked away, but you could tell he was smiling. As the night went on, you fell asleep curled up against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he watched you, wondering what he’d done to deserve a moment like this.

Since that night, staying in with you had become his favorite thing. You often brought little pastel decorations, throwing a pink blanket over the couch or adding a flower-scented candle that he pretended to ignore but secretly loved. Tonight, you’d snuggled up beside him, pulling the pink blanket over both of you.

“Si, why don’t you come sit with me?” you asked, giving his sleeve a gentle tug. “You look like you could use a break.”

He didn’t argue. Sitting with you meant a reprieve from the chaos of his thoughts, even if he’d never say it out loud. He let you pull him to the couch, where you immediately curled up against him, your warmth seeping through his shirt.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you tilted your head up to look at him, eyes sparkling. “You know, I think the pink really suits you.”

Simon scoffed, though his arm instinctively tightened around you. “I look ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” you insisted, lightly poking his side. “You’re just not used to being adored, that’s all.”

His gaze softened, and he let his hand rest on top of yours. Being with you, it was like getting a second chance at something he’d thought was beyond him—a chance to feel a little brightness, to have someone who cared about him for more than just his skills in the field.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, watching as he tried (and failed) to hide a smile. “Come on, Mr. Guard Dog. Let me be your sunshine for a while.”

He exhaled, a rare, genuine chuckle slipping through as he looked down at you. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he muttered, voice low but full of warmth.

With a soft grin, you squeezed his hand. “Just keep being you, Si. That’s all I ever need.”

The first time you met his team, Simon felt a familiar weight of unease. He was used to keeping his personal life private, but he knew it was inevitable that you’d meet his colleagues. That night at the pub, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, wondering how you’d fit into his world.

Soap was the first to notice you, nearly spilling his drink when he saw the pink scarf draped over Simon’s shoulders.

“Oi, Ghost!” Soap said, laughing. “Didn’t know you had such… colorful tastes.”

You, completely unfazed, turned to Soap with a grin. “I’m the one responsible for that! I’m his bit of color.”

Simon shot him a look that could kill, but you slipped your hand into his, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. The others chuckled, though their teasing was lighthearted. They’d never seen Ghost—stoic, silent Ghost—look at anyone the way he looked at you, and it was both amusing and a little shocking.

When you noticed the curious looks, you only beamed and waved. “Nice to meet you all! I promise, I’m the chatty one.”

The team took to you immediately. You didn’t shy away from their gruff personalities or rowdy banter, joining in with ease and charm that seemed to leave everyone grinning. Even Simon, who normally kept his distance, found himself leaning closer to you, letting your presence smooth out his edges.

At one point, Soap leaned in, smirking. “So, what’s a lovely lass like you doing with our Ghost, eh?”

You chuckled, throwing an arm around Simon’s shoulders. “Oh, he’s got a soft side, don’t let him fool you.”

Simon let out a deep sigh, feigning exasperation but unable to hide his smile. His teammates exchanged glances, a few eyebrows raised at this surprising revelation. They were witnessing a side of Ghost they never thought existed, and it was clear that you were the reason behind it.

One night, you convinced him to go out with you—a cozy pub with live music, a little tucked away but busier than Simon would usually tolerate. As you led him through the crowd, your hand firmly in his, he felt strangely… excited. For you, he’d go just about anywhere.

Once inside, you ordered your usual: a bright, fruity cocktail adorned with a slice of pineapple and a pink umbrella, while he opted for a simple beer. The contrast between you two couldn’t have been more obvious, but he secretly loved it. While you talked, laughed, and even dragged him to the dance floor for a slow song, he stayed close, like a guard dog, eyes always scanning, protective.

At one point, someone tried to flirt with you while he went to the bar. Simon’s sharp gaze caught the moment, and he returned, moving in beside you with a casual possessiveness. One look from him was all it took for the guy to retreat, hands raised in surrender.

“Si, are you jealous?” you teased, poking his arm as he slipped his hand around your waist.

He grunted, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. “Just keeping you safe, love.”

You gave him a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, I’m already taken. Can’t you tell?”

He leaned in close, his voice barely above a murmur. “Couldn’t miss it if I tried.”

In that dimly lit pub, under the soft glow of fairy lights, you shared a quiet moment that felt almost surreal. You, with your vibrant colors and effortless joy, brought him something he hadn’t thought he’d ever feel again—a sense of warmth, of home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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