#I don't really know what I could be doing differently

[deusfoundry]

popstar!reader x actor!sylus masterlist | lowkey based on this little drabble

a fan asks you a question during one of your surprise visits at the local theater of a small town as part of your movie's press tour.

"is sylus a good kisser?"

a grin makes its way to your lips, and you don't have to spare a glance to know that sylus is donning his signature smirk.

the squeals from the crowd grow louder.

he's great at more than just kissing is the thought that goes through your head, what would be your answer if you really wanted to respond in earnest. it'd be so funny, you think, so hilariously on brand with it's lewdness, something that will surely do numbers on social media.

but you remind yourself that you can't. not now. it isn't the time.

no one knows yet, and you've both done a damn good job at keeping your relationship a secret for the past three years to just have it all unravel under your need to crack a joke.

so you settle for the next best thing.

you lean back against your chair, allowing the fabric to support your entire weight as you cross one leg over the other. your movements are languid, lazy, elbow resting on the arm of the chair as you bring the microphone up to your lips.

"he's alright," you say with a hand casually carding through your hair. you want to come off as though you can't be bothered, entirely unmoved by the question. "could be better, though."

a lie.

sylus' lips have ruined you for anyone else.

his actions are always done with intention, and kissing you is no different. he takes his time with you, slow and deliberate movements that pour fuel down the flickering flame in the pits of your stomach. a palm flat against your lower back, traveling down the curve of your ass, the flesh of your thighs. little things done in the name of not just pulling whines and whimpers from your lips, but to remind you of his undying love and devotion.

he kisses you once he's satisfied with how the attention he's poured the rest of your body. and there's a way in which he captures your lips, heated and all-consuming, that makes you feel wanted.

desired.

not for the facade, the caricature you've made of yourself to entertain other people, but for you. the rawest, most true version of yourself that only a handful of people have access to.

sylus wants you. all of you, and he makes it clear with each slow drag of his lips against yours.

there's a slight tug on your lips that betrays your intentions as the fans go wild. they eagerly look to sylus for his response.

he turns in his seat. and this time, you take a second to meet his eyes. you find his pupils narrowed, covered in a layer of amusement that makes them shine under the dim lights of the movie theater.

"really, now? i seem to recall one of us refusing to break the kiss even after the director yelled cut," sylus leans far closer than what anyone would consider a professional distance. your breath catches, throat closing in as the tip of his nose nearly brushes against yours.

"and it certainly wasn't me."

you wonder, briefly, how the people in the crowd still had it in them to scream.

it's difficult to fight off the light shade of pink that tints your cheeks, but you manage, even gathering enough strength to shove him away with a hand on his chest.

"weren't you the one who had your hands practically glued to my face?" your scoff is accompanied by an eye roll.

sylus laughs, the sound low and deep. he decides to leave it at that. he gestures with a small wave of his hand for another question, and in an instant, arms shoot up from the crowd.

his hand falls to the chair's arm where it meets yours. you let a few seconds pass, allow yourself to relish in the contact of skin, part of his massive palm nearly covering the entirety of yours, before you pull back.

if anyone asks, it was just an accident.

a/n: so. im guessing i can speak for all of us when i say that absolutely no one expected me to pull this out of my ass.

[miange1]

donnie darko slightly pushing male reader into having their first time together?!? manipulating him until he craves it just as bad as him now

DONNIE DARKO

male reader, bottom reader, reader isn't a virgin he just hasn't had peen up his booty, manipulation, say gex, sum like that, nervousness, donnie doesn't know what he's doing either, anal sex, rough but soft, linkin park is so yummy, donnie is addicted to sex, persuading with actions rather than words, donnie does NOT know how to fuck but figures it out later

he was nervous, fidgeting the whole day and glancing at you much more often. he felt some sort of weight on his shoulders, he just needed to get it off and if he never told you what was the matter it would never happen would it?

"donnie." you looked over at him, your finger pressing at the TV remote to turn it down. "hm." he looked over at you, eyes roaming over your body by instinct. "don't 'hm' me. you've been creeping the shit outta me all day? you alright?"

he opened his mouth to say yes, but then closed it up again, changing his mind. he got closer to you, bed dipping in the area near you and his hand resting on your leg.

"you ever..fuck before?" you giggled a bit, mostly confused but amused as well. "yeah? of course ive–" he cut you off, "no, i mean." he moved himself closer towards you,

"have you been fucked before, like by another guy?" your heart started to speed up, your body tensing and it felt like it was getting hotter.

"..no?" donnies hands went to your legs, moving towards your thighs and squeezing them a bit. "do you want to?" he was expecting a yes, but he frowned seeing your head shake and your legs move towards your chest.

"donnie," your eyes looked like they were pitying him, looking at him as if he was in the wrong. but he wasn't? "why? why don't you want to— we're together so we have to!" his mind worked differently, and you knew that. he always wanted to get to the 'good stuff', and as messed up as it sounded he still loved you.

"please, i promise.." he went close to you again, hands pulling your ankles and spreading your legs. "it'll feel really good," he's never fucked another guy before, and most likely has never had sex before but he just needed to persuade you somehow.

"donnie, no. my answer is no." your words cut off with your own giggle as he kissed at your face multiple times, making you tell him that it tickled a bit.

then his lips would go lower, slowing his pace down as he kissed at your neck and making them more open mouthed to leave a mark.

"hey..hey, donnie—" you squirmed, hands to his chest to push him away but you just ended up gripping his shirt and wanting more "hm." his fingers went up your shirt, grazing your nipples having your body arch into his touch and whimper into his ear.

"stop..donnie," his pointer and middle finger squeezed the bud, your legs tightened around his hips as he did so. "can't..i can't.." he sounded just as desperate as you, moving his hands back down to your shirt to take it off and toss it some other place.

he let his body get on top of you more, your body sliding down all the way underneath him. he looked at you for a moment, taking it all in. this was really happening

his pace was slow at first, it hurt to him too because he didn't really know he had to use some sort of lubrication. as he had gotten used to it, he completely forgot to think about you.

he was thinking about you, but also wasn't.

"donnie..donnie— donnie!" he could hear you calling out his name, saw your fingers grip at the sheets for dear life as if you were gonna fall off the bed even though he had you by your waist.

"slow...down, oh god it hurts.." but it felt so good, the tears that went down your cheeks were tears of pleasure and your hole would twitch and clench around him and each time he felt it he just couldn't help but go faster and harder.

the headboard hit against the wall, and you prayed that no one was home to hear this because nothing was silent especially you. "feels so good..do you feel good? tell me it feels good." your head nodded, burrying yourself into the pillow cover.

"so good..donnie, don't stop." your words were becoming slurred, turning into mindless jumbles and moans. for a guy who's probably never even fucked a girl, shit he was real good.

it had you wondering how many times he must have thought of what he wanted to do to you.

"don't stop?" your pupils moved to the side, giving donnie a look. "okay.." he flipped you over back onto your back, wiping his forehead from the sweat that dripped.

"i won't stop, i promise." oh, of course he'd take that shit literally.

[aangelinakii]

BATBOYS + SHARING A BED.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, duke thomas

note : not smut and also didn't write damian again sorry 😭😭😭 i will get to pookie soon

BRUCE WAYNE

as expected for such an extravagant man, bruce literally sleeps perfectly. he's like a marble statue, a renaissance painting you'd find etched into the ceiling of a cathedral. his bed's never too hor nor cold; maybe it's worth investing in his bedsheets. he likes to keep you close but also have his own space, so he isn't one to roll over and invade your side of the bed, or necessarily like it when you do while he's trying to sleep. i think he'd opt for falling asleep with an arm around your shoulders or over your waist, but with a little bit of space between. in the mornings or just before going to bed he would Not mind the barriers being crossed for some cuddling

DICK GRAYSON

for dick it's a tricky one, very much season dependent. he's such a hugger that it can be suffocating sometimes, especially in the summer. he runs cold, so in the winter huddling so close is ideal to warm him up, but his cuddly habits don't bode well with summer months, where you're so sweaty your hair is literally sticking to the back of your neck. he probably needs to fall asleep with his arms around something, and, well, the closest thing is you, so you're in for it you are. depends on if you run hot or cold at night, but his chronic cuddling syndrome could be an issue. the point is, dick loves falling asleep in your arms or with you in his, as he secretly hopes you'll meet again in his dreams

JASON TODD

differently, runs hot, so cuddling in the summer is almost out of the question unless the ac is on (but don't forget to keep it on a timer so you don't get sick !!!!) in the winter he's more open to it, as long as you're hogging the duvet. i think he's a cuddle before bed kinda guy, but likes some distance while he sleeps so he doesn't overheat and sleeps through the night. can be a bad sleeper at times, so will wake up during the night especially if having nightmares or just too hot — this can sometimes wake you up, so it depends on if a) you're a deep sleeper, b) you can get back to sleep soon enough, or c) if you stay up with him :) at those times he does appreciate you staying up with him, helping calm him down so there's the chance he'll fall back asleep, but doesn't take away from the fact he'll feel a little guilty

TIM DRAKE

i can see tim being either the deepest sleeper even an atomic bomb won't wake him, or the lightest sleeper that has him waking up every 30 mins because a piece of fluff from the blanket keeps landing on his forehead. probably depends on his stress and fatigue level; if he's super wrapped up in a case or there's a lot going on in his vigilante life, i think he'd struggle to get to sleep or to stay asleep, in which he'd appreciate you accommodating his needs with some small talk before bed, where the only light is from the moon spilling past the curtains, and maybe a warm cup of chamomile and honey. however, if he's been worked to the bone the past week, as soon as his head hits the pillow he is Gone, and then is Gone until 10AM the next day, no matter what time he fell asleep at. definitely one of those moments where you leave the room for a milisecond being like i'll be right back, and then you come back and he's out. it does help though that he's the type to reach out for you during the night, so you wake up arms tangled :((

DUKE THOMAS

duke's really sweet,, i think he'd be the type to need to fall asleep on his own or in his own space, but then during the night he shuffles closer to you, or instinctively pulls you into his side. and then he wakes up in the morning teasing you with "ugh you couldn't even get enough of me while we were sleeping" but you know very well it wasn't You who put him there, pushing you against the wall or almost off the edge of the bed (but he will deny it all he can if you say it was him). but in the mornings he's def a cuddler. he's got his day shift to go and get ready for, but he really really just wants to stay here where it's warm and ureghhh.

he also has the yellow bumblebee pillow pet and pink fuzzy bunny slippers

[cupcake669]

Okey, so first of all: the art is amazing, i love it so much i want to chew on it

So this whole Lol vs. Arcane Jayvik comparison thing got me thinking. There is a bunch of "Jayce vs. Giopara" kind of art / headcanon out there and they are always fun, just like the "Jayce on Jayce violence" between the s1 s2 versions.

Buuuut you know what could be also interesting? Viktor vs. his lol counterpart. I did not play the games so I only know his characterisation via fandom discourse but it seems to me that consent is a very important thing for the og tinman. From what I can tell, the glorious evolution is only for willing participants and he wouldn't do that to anyone else. But Arcane Viktor? The scenes before Ekko's attack were not giving "consent king" vibes from him.

Based on that, my idea is:

The Machine Herald would roast the hell out of Hippy Cult Leader Viktor.

And it could be either really really funny....or super tragic, depending on the interpretation. Honestly I like both lol.

A badly thought out scene in my head goes like this:

A! Viktor: You are pretty harsh on your Jayce.

L! Viktor: Well, at least I let him make his own choices.

A! Viktor: It's-..it's a complicated issue.

L! Viktor: Oh, excuse me. I did not know that a so called brilliant mind, as you like to think of yourself as, has a problem understanding the simple concept of "yes" and "no".

A!Viktor: Well, he fused me with the Arcane first, againts my wishes and-

L!Viktor: So you both suck, this is your argument, yes? Great partnerhsip right there.

A!Viktor: You wouldn't know what a great partnership looks like if it hit you in the face.

L!Viktor: Well, Giopara does that quite a lot so maybe you are wrong about that one.

L!Jayce: You think we are great partners?

L!Viktor: Ehh, don't get sentimental with me. I would rather have a good fight you, than whatever insane codependent fuckery those two have going on.

L!Jayce stares into the camera like he is in the office.(The pot calling the kettle am I right?)

If Viktor would say, that his actions were the result of the Arcane induced brainrot, I can just see the Herald being all:

"Yes, the Arcane is indeed a powerful force to be reckoned with. Many would break under the pressure of infinite knowlegde and it's vast power beyond human comprehension. Not me tho, I am built different. Literally. Y'all stay safe tho."

Also, please keep in mind, that I say all this with the kind of affection that held Jayvik together (lol). I wrote this just for funsies and not as a deep analysis on Viktor's character or actions in the series. Also, english is not my first language sorry for the mistakes. Peace & Love.

[viagracex]

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

…Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore. 

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

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

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response  " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

[estcaligo]

Serene by Your Side

Sebek x Reader, romantic A few small notes on his guest room lines + a drabble at the end

One of the rare occasions when the loudest (half) fae around grows quiet is when he's immersed in his favorite hobby - reading.

And it's absolutely endearing that, out of all the places on campus, he chooses Ramshackle as his preferred reading spot. (lines are from twst wiki)

In the original Japanese text, however, Sebek says:

ここで読書をすると集中できそうだ。 場所を借りてもいいか？

A more literal translation would be:

"Could I borrow a spot here to collect my thoughts/focus while reading?"

It's not just a good reading spot for him - it's a peaceful environment where he can relax and focus. Despite what he claims, by your side, he feels calm, undisturbed, and at ease. Ramshackle becomes his harbor, where he can let his guard down for a while.

He also has this line:

Getting too comfortable, aren't we? :)

And when he says it, it sounds like he's starting to doze off (resting his head on your lap as you tenderly caress his mint-green locks)

Of course, the lines are designed to appeal to the player. But he also says this:

"I could visit you again and again."

He notices and appreciates the way you arrange space. The way you've piled those cushions? He finds it charming. The flowers you've picked and placed in a small vase? Adorable. The single curtain you left open? Such a thoughtful touch. Everything about how you design your environment feels cozy to him.

When the two of you start dating, he secretly begins to imagine what your future home might look like one day. How your talent for creating such a warm and welcoming atmosphere could make it perfect. He doesn't say it, of course.

Instead, he simply visits Ramshackle at every opportunity.

And his friendship max line?

"Reach out to me whenever you like." He really wants to add "Please", but his tsundere nature just won't let him (yet)

But he's reaching out to you, in his own way.

He's surprised, too.

He never imagined he could find peace of mind at the side of a mere human. But then again, you're no ordinary human. There's something about you - something that fills the air with tranquility, simply through your presence.

What? Is it not like this for everyone? Is it just him who feels this way?…

This feels different from the peace he knows back home with his family. Different from the quiet moments he shares with Silver during their breaks.

Sebek is not an idiot. Is this what it feels like? What he's read about in so many books?

"This is… nice" he whispers in quiet disbelief, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry, did you say something?" you ask, looking up from the book in your hands.

"Nothing! Don't distract me, human!" he blurts out, cheeks tinged with red as he raises his book to hide his flustered expression.

You blink, a little confused, but return to your reading.

Moments later, you glance at him again, and your eyes meet. But this time he doesn't look away. His gaze lingers, soft and unguarded, a silent note of gratitude in his eyes, and it makes your heart flutter.

It's an expression only you ever get to see - the look he wears in his "reading haven".

Without thinking, you shift closer, pressing your shoulder against his.

"Human! How do you expect me to focus on my book with you clinging to me like that?"

"I'm sure you can. I believe in you." you tease, resting your head on his shoulder and returning to your book as though it's no big deal. He grumbles in mild protest but adjusts his posture to make it more comfortable for the both of you.

Silence falls over the lounge of Ramshackle once again, wrapping you both in a veil of stillness and serenity. The only sound is the gentle rustle of turning pages.

Peace, quiet, with you by his side - one of Sebek's most cherished ways to be.

[siriuslylantsov]

canine tendencies

pairing: sirius black x reader

description: in which, you put charms in sirius' hair and confront certain traits of his.

tags: fluff! fem!reader, mmm pining, cuddling, totally platonic activities going on here, r is muggle-born hence the vet and dog anatomy knowledge, sirius is a puppy agenda, pretty women from the 70s mentioned (dont pay much attention to it), flirting.

a/n: staying true to my username with more sirius black. wanna play with his hair for days tbh. happy reading!

wc: 1.7k

“you don't know when to give up, do you?”

you raise your chin indignantly, “i'm stubborn.”

sirius fixes you with a withering glare, it doesn't pack much of a punch but you can tell he's stalling. he finally relents with a long sigh, ever the dramatic. you squeal, walking over to his bed with a little pouch that jingled as you moved. you nudge at his shoulders to lean against the headboard and set yourself down beside him. he grumbles, muttering something along the lines of waste of time and how your neck is gonna hurt. you bite back a smile at his cause for concern: you. 

“complain all you want, but you know this is gonna look good,” you muse, with an air of smugness. “you’ll be singing my praises.”

he lets his head hang to the side, looking at you, up those pretty eyelashes of his. his eyes are indifferent, yet they crinkle at the corners, trying to not prove you right. pools of grey and blue, you could drown in them. 

your elbow is wedged between a pillow and the headboard, propping you up, knees curled, poking into his thigh. his legs are sprawled out in an obnoxious man spread, effectively making you move closer so you don't fall off the bed–that's small enough regardless of the space he's taking up. 

he's avoided you all day since you proposed the idea at breakfast: putting charms in his hair. what's strange is that you’ve done his hair plenty of times before sans protest. you ponder it quietly, simultaneously willing him to concede with squinted eyes, as he deadpans you.

if he could, he would've told you that he’s afraid to be alone with you. not that he hasn't been before, he has and he's been this close to you too (he constantly is). but something is different now, something about your hands in his hair that he can’t deal with. especially recently, you've taken to scratching behind his ear and it drives him a little crazy. he won't stop you though, on account of it feeling so good. usually, you're around the others so he can shift his focus elsewhere rather than think about how softly your fingers pad over his scalp, but now you’re alone and he's cursing lily for dragging his friends to some stupid baking endeavour that he stealthily got out of. 

you watch as annoyance passes over his features (directed to lily but you don't know that) and it instantly worries you. maybe he was serious about not wanting this, were you pushing him?

“sirius, if you really don't want me to do this,” you start, a nervous edge to your fast rush of words, “please tell me. i don't want to force you into doing anything-”

“hey,” he stops you with a hand over your arm and a small reassuring smile. “i'm sorry, i do. i just think you’re hot when you're irritated.”

“you must think i'm farah fawcett all the time then,” you mutter, rooting around in your pouch for the gold cuffs you thought would suit him. “and i'm not irritated, i have a surprising amount of patience for you,” you correct, inspecting the cuffs in your palm.

sirius sits up a bit to peer at them, chewing his lip in thought. “mmm not her. barbara carrera maybe,” he adds, looking back at you, his resistance fading away.

your eyebrows shoot up slightly, in mild shock. “she's pretty,” you remark to his comparison and the seemingly honest delivery.

“yeah,” he says, incredibly earnest, “so are you.”

curious and curiouser. “you think flirting with me is gonna get you out of this?”

“i don't know, is it working?”

“nope,” you say curtly, bring your hand back up to his face, this time with a few charms as well. “pick.”

he does, and sets them in your other hand held out. you begin parting his hair for the braids, you settle for placing them under the top of his hair, since his layers are short they'll peek through nicely. you tie a sloppy half bun to the unused portion of his hair so it's out of the way and section out a piece to braid. 

sirius dutifully holds the gold adornments in his hand as you work, suddenly quiet. he always gets like this, you've noticed. all quip remarks are silenced when your hands are in his hair. you make note to tease him about it later but for now you're content to stay quiet. 

he's humming something quietly, a tune you're unfamiliar with, it's ok he’ll tell you later. it fills the silence nicely. you pick the first charm, looping it into a strand of hair and continuing the braid to secure it. his hair is unbelievably soft, it's probably why you like touching it so much. you both know it gets greasier faster because of your constant contact but sirius makes no move to stop you, ever, simply muttering a spell to revive it. 

it goes on like this for about ten minutes, mostly because the charms were a bit more difficult to work with than you thought and also because you were extremely wary of trying not to tangle his hair. he stares at you diligently out of his periphery and you try not to meet his gaze. 

when you're done you lift the handheld mirror to his face. fuck, he looks beautiful. you have to look away, allowing him to assess everything on his own. 

he shoots you a blinding grin, looking exceedingly pleased with how it turned out, “thanks, dove!”

“you’re welcome,” you respond. “it looks good, right?”

he nods, looking into the mirror again. “really good. you did an amazing job.”

your heart flutters at the praise but you don't let it show, accepting his words with a smug smile. it doesn't last long though as he jumps you with a hug, winding you. arms wrapped around your middle, his head rests on your chest, just below your chin, squeezing you in appreciation. you wrap your arms around him in tandem and lean back against the headboard and the pillows, practically pulling half of him on top of you.

it's rough and tumble for a moment before he settles with a low hum, arms still circled around your torso. he knows they’ll go numb the longer he stays like this but he doesn't care. 

you trail one hand into his hair instinctively, like it's second nature. your nails lightly graze over that spot behind his ear and he’s done for. when you begin scratching, he melts, like truly melts against your body, letting out a long, pleased sigh. he makes note to kick himself later for acting like this. beneath his cheek, he feels you shake. are you laughing?

he lifts his head, a little incredulous. “what?”

you chuckle, seeing how he blinks away the blissful air to his expression. “nothing, it’s just-”

he looks at you expectantly as you contemplate your words.

you let out an amused snort before speaking again, “i don't know if it's, like, a subconscious response to your animagus form but dogs really like being scratched behind their ears.”

he gapes at you, affronted. “are you calling me a dog?”

“you are, padfoot.”

he whines petulantly before dropping back to your chest. he noses at your sternum, his own wordless way of getting you to continue. so you do. 

“dogs have a very concentrated area of nerve endings here,” you explain quietly, scratching his scalp again, just behind his ear. “when stimulated, it causes the brain to release endorphins, making them feel relaxed.”

he hums in thought though it sounds more pleased and it scarcely proves your point. 

“how’d you know that?” he asks, voice muffled by your shirt.

“my friend had to take her cat to the vet and i read one of those pet magazines to pass the time,” you murmur, your voice still quiet as you begin to feel sirius growing heavier over you.

“y’so smart,” he slurs, words trailing off in the beginning of sleep.

“don't fall asleep,” you whisper, though you make no effort to wake him up.

he mumbles something incoherent, nuzzling further into your neck but giving you a little grace by shuffling off of your body. one leg is still tangled with yours and his arms are still tightly wrapped around you but at least he's not crushing you. 

“tell me more,” he requests, words trailing up at the end in question.

you think for a moment, reaching to the depths of your brain to retrieve the dog facts you read about that day, perking up when you do.

“hmmm dogs have incredibly sensitive noses. they have up to, like, 300 million scent receptors, where humans have about 5 million and the part of their brain that processes smells is 40 times larger than ours,” you mumble, tapping a light finger to the tip of his nose. 

“cool,” he exclaims, though it's anything but. his eyes slowly flutter shut as you coil a piece of his hair, sealing your fate for the rest of the evening. that is until, much to sirius’ dismay, his roommates come bursting in.

flour scattered over their clothes and hair alike, they’re boisterous as they enter, chatting something along the lines of baking is actually kinda fun. he groans against your body, sleep stretching far and wide from his grasp. you stifle a laugh as he glares at them annoyedly. they pay no attention to the boy, instead making plans on playing quidditch. to this, he brightens. jumping from the bed at a speed you can't quite justify, not being overly fond of the sport yourself. you were more inclined to flying for fun, rather than competition. 

he glances back at you, tentatively, asking for your permission almost. you shrug indifferently, you were going to make your way down to the field anyway. he grins and leans down, pressing a quick firm kiss to your cheek before rushing after the dwindling voices down the stairs, his own broom in tow. 

you bite your lip to push down the giggle that bubbles up in your throat, maybe there are some innate canine tendencies.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P13

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: Hey my Angel Babies! It's been a while since I've written this series and in all honesty I needed a few days to really decide on the next bits of the plot. Any who, here we are. Poor Y/n is dealing with the aftermath of the case, we get some of the group back together which is so cute, and then we have an unexpected crashout.... AND a little moment between two people whatever could that mean hmmm???

warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of s/a, vomiting, mentions of community service, crying, emotional turmoil, violent behaviour, injuries, blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The country club buzzed softly with the muted sounds of conversation and clinking glasses, but for Y/N, the world felt oddly distant. She sat with Topper at a small table on the patio, nursing a drink she didn’t particularly want but felt compelled to hold. The ice had melted, condensation pooling around the base of the glass, but she hadn’t taken more than a few sips. Topper, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully as though she might snap at any moment.

“I just can’t believe he won” 

Y/N muttered, her voice low but sharp. She traced the rim of her glass with a trembling finger, her frustration palpable. 

“It doesn’t make sense, Topper. I told the truth- I did everything right.”

Topper leaned forward slightly closer to the table. He studied her, his chest tightening at the sight before him. There was something different about Y/N these days, like the light she carried- the spark that used to make her shine in every room- had been dimmed. He’d seen it start to slip away even now, months later, it was like it was draining out of her completely. He knew what had happened was something impossible to just “get over,” but a part of him had hoped time would start to heal her wounds, that she’d slowly begin to rebuild herself. Instead, he’d watched her retreat inward, her laughter growing quieter, her eyes a little emptier. And it killed him to see someone so full of life now struggling under the weight of something so cruel. Still, he forced a calmness into his voice, 

“I know you did, Y/N,”

Topper exhaled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You can’t keep going over it like this, it’s not good for you.” 

She shot him a glare, “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m not trying to be helpful,” he shot back as he took a swing of his drink, “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking okay?”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she leant forward speaking to him pointing to herself,  “Oh, so now you’re all thinking I should just get over it? Move on like nothing happe-”

“-that’s not what I’m saying-” Topper began firmly shooting her a stern look, but she cut him off, her voice rising as she crossed her arms, head tilting slightly.

“Then what are you saying, Topper? Because it sure sounds like you’re all tired of me talking about it!”

He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a groan. “No one’s tired of you, Y/N. That’s not what this is about. We’re just—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. 

“We’re worried about you.”

Y/N shook her head, as she lifted her glass to her lips, swallowing some of the cold liquid in the glass, her grip on the glass tight, sitting in silence for a moment, looking at the mint flattened against the side of her glass. 

“Well I’m sorry that I don't know how to sit here and pretend I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Topper said gently. “You’re allowed to be angry, Y/N.”

You have no idea how I feel

“I am angry.” she said, her voice bitter, her fingers running over the arch of her brow as she spoke.

“I’m so fucking angry I don’t know what to do with it...”

As if on cue, the sound of soft laughter drifted over from a nearby table. Y/N glanced to her left and caught sight of where it came from; a trio seated a few metres away, two girls and a guy. They were whispering to each other, their eyes darting towards her every few seconds. One of the girls leaned in to say something, and the guy snickered, not even bothering to hide his glance in her direction. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Topper’s brow furrowed as he noticed the sudden change in her body language. His gaze shifted to where hers had been moments earlier, landing on the trio and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. She turned back to Topper, but her mind was already elsewhere. The whispers, the glances- they crawled under her skin like insects, itching and burning until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?”

She called out suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the patio where they sat. The trio froze, their laughter dying instantly as the girl’s voice rang out. 

“You’ve got something to say? Then say it.”

“Y/N…” Topper spoke out to her, but she ignored him, turning in her seat to face them completely, the group now looking at her in surprise. Her gaze locked on the three of them, and she raised her voice again.

 “No? Nothing? Just gonna sit there and whisper like cunts?”

The two girls exchanged a glance, their cheeks flushing red eyes wide. One of them grabbed her bag, and the other quickly followed suit, not looking back. The guy hesitated, taking a sip of his whiskey, looking like he wanted to say something, but a single glare from Y/N sent him scrambling to his feet. Within moments, the three of them had disappeared inside the club, their table left empty. Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with a huff.

Get the fuck out of here

Topper sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “You know they’re probably just bored, right? Gossip’s their only hobby.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N sighed out, “I’m not going to sit here and let them stare at me like I’m some kind of freak show.”

“You kind of just gave them one,” 

He pointed out, grinning slightly. Her lips twitched, a small smile tugging on her lips as her hand came over the table to playfully shove his shoulder. Topper was mid-rant about the absurd price of Malibu boats when Kelce appeared at their table, holding another drink for Y/N. He set it down in front of her on the table, eyeing the girl with a teasing grin. 

“You haven’t even finished that one yet,” he said, nodding toward the mostly untouched glass at her elbow. Y/N barely glanced at it, pushing it to the side with a small smile. 

“I’m not that thirsty Kels.”

Kelce raised a brow, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated groan. “Not thirsty? What happened to you? You used to throw back five of these in, like, an hour.”

Her lips twitched in an almost-smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she forced a shrug. 

“Okay well maybe I used to be an alcoholic-”

Kelce cut her off with a loud laugh tumbling past his lips, Topper snorted at her statement, shaking his head. “Right.”

“Uhuh, laugh it up,” 

She muttered, not meeting their eyes. Her gaze flickered briefly to the untouched drink Kelce had brought, but the sight of it sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. She hadn’t been drunk since that night. Not once. Even the thought of losing control, of putting herself in a vulnerable state again, made her skin crawl. She’d never let herself feel that powerless again; but she didn’t say any of this to the guys. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest like it might hold her swirling thoughts at bay. Kelce rolled his eyes, 

“Whatever you say”

Y/N ignored him, pulling out her phone and unlocking the screen. She swiped idly through a few notifications, but her thoughts were elsewhere, caught on the gnawing disappointment she didn’t want to admit to herself. Topper noticed the shift immediately, once again; he seemed to have become awfully observant with the girl. He tilted his head slightly, watching her with a knowing look, 

“He’s not coming.”

“Huh?”

“Rafe,” Topper said, placing his bottle down onto the table, “He’s not coming, he messaged me earlier.”

Oh

Her stomach dropped, but she forced her expression to stay neutral, brushing it off with a shrug, “That's fine- I didn’t expect him to come.”

Topper’s gaze softened, his voice dipping lower. “He didn’t want to upset you, Y/N. That’s why he didn't tel-.”

“I said it’s fine seriously” 

She said again, this time a little sharper. She flicked her eyes back to her phone, scrolling aimlessly as though she had better things to focus on. But the truth was, she did care. She cared more than she wanted to admit. She hadn’t seen much of Rafe recently, not since everything had gone down in court. He’d been tied up with his community service, his probation, and God knows what else. And she… she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go out as much. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the whispers, the stares, or the fact that there was a possibility she might bump into Cooper, the world outside felt heavier now.

And Rafe not being there- it made it worse.

Kelce and Topper were talking again, their voices buzzing around her like background noise, but Y/N barely registered it. She stared at the drink Kelce had brought her, her reflection rippling faintly on the surface of the amber liquid. It wasn’t just about the alcohol. As Y/N took a sip from her drink, trying to get some semblance of normalcy back, Kelce’s phone buzzed yet again. He glanced at it, his lips curling into a knowing grin. Topper raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Seriously? Another message?”

Kelce rolled his eyes, tapping a quick reply. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want me to do?”

Y/N smirked and bumped her shoulder into the boys sitting next to her playfully. “You want that cookie so bad Kels- you’re whipped.”

“Whipped?!”

 Kelce scoffed, looking up from his phone. “I’m not whipped. I’m... dedicated. You guys wouldn’t understand.”

Topper chuckled, crossing his arms. “Dedicated? You're in deep, man.”

“Oh, come on,” Kelce shot back, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation laughing at the two. “What, you two jealous because I’ve got a steady girl?”

Topper leaned in, grinning. “Jealous? Me? Nah. I’m just shocked you’re getting tied down. I’m living my best life.”

“Best life?” Kelce raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling. “Yeah, right Topper, it’s called avoiding commitment.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “You’re both hopeless if I’m being honest.” As if on cue, both Kelce and Topper turned to her with identical looks of mock offence, and the girl looked momentarily surprised at their unplanned co-ordination.

“Right, because you’re such a relationship guru.” 

Kelce quipped, narrowing his eyes playfully. Topper smirked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the arm rests of his chair, “Okay Ms. Expert, you’ve been dodging relationships like it’s a full-time job.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself, “Please, I’m just selective. There’s a difference.”

“Selective, huh?” 

Kelce teased, leaning closer. “Is that what we’re calling it?” He exchanged a look with Topper before adding, “because if we’re being honest, you’re not all that selective when it comes to a certain someone.”

Y/N froze for a fraction of a second, her lip pressing together to avoid a smile from breaking out on her lips. She asked, feigning innocence, but her tone lacked conviction,

“I have no idea what you’re you talking about-”

“-Oh, come on, Y/N. We’re not blind, we see the way he looks at you.” Topper grinned at her as he teased her.

“And the way you look at him-” 

Kelce added, smirking as he wiggled his eyes, he cut off his words with a wolf whistle directed at the girl. Y/N groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. 

“You’re both ridiculous. There’s nothing going on. Besides, it's- ... complicated…”

“Complicated?” Kelce raised an eyebrow as he mimed air quotes around the word, shooting her an exaggeratedly sceptical look, “Sounds a lot like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Rafe practically worships the ground you walk on, and you’re out here calling it ‘complicated.’ ”

Topper agreed, he couldn't stop himself from pressing the subject further, his grin softening into something more genuine.

 “Come on, Y/N. You’ve known each other for years. What are you so afraid of?”

Stop

Y/N froze, his words hitting her like a freight train. For once, she didn’t have a quick comeback or a sarcastic quip. Instead, she sat there, fingers lightly drumming against the table as her mind wandered. In this moment she realised he'd never told them- not Topper, not Kelce. They didn’t know about what happened in the hut. About the way he’d pulled away at the last second, leaving her reeling, confused, and- if she were being honest- extremely hurt. She assumed he would’ve told the boys, they were his best friends after all, yet now she was wondering if maybe he didn't tell them because he felt bad for her… did he not want to embarrass her poor judgement? The memory lingered, an ache she couldn’t quite shake. She realised she’d been silent too long when Topper raised an eyebrow at her.

“Y/N?” 

He prompted, his tone softer now, curious. She forced a shrug, reaching for her drink to busy herself. 

“I don’t know, Top,” she said finally, her voice quieter than she intended. “It’s just... complicated.”

Kelce groaned dramatically, throwing his hands down onto the table. “There it is again!” Topper’s eyes stayed on Y/N as he spoke. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

 “I mean, Y/N, Rafe’s not some random guy. It’s Rafe. He’d never hurt you-”

“Okay, enough,” 

Y/N said quickly, waving her hand at them. Her cheeks felt hot, burning, she swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Topper’s words were meant to reassure her, but they only made her chest tighten.

“This conversation is over.”

Well there goes keeping your cool

The two boys quietened down at the girl’s sudden change in mood, realising thwy may have pushed her too far, but the tension was suddenly cut by Kelce’s phone intensely buzzing against the table again. Kelce laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Phoebe’s coming to join us”

Y/N grabbed her drink, muttering under her breath, “You two are not real.”

The two boys just laughed, as Topper spoke up,“if you start bringing her every time we meet, we’re going to have to start charging a fee.”

Y/N smiled, placing her glass down, “If she can keep you in line, that’s a service I’d pay for.”

Kelce shot her a wink. “Well, don’t worry, Y/N. You’ll always be my number one girl- even if Phoebe’s around.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N teased. “You keep telling yourself that, Kelce.”

The banter continued, easing the tension that had built up over the past few days. It wasn’t a fix-all, but it was a damn good distraction. Kelce cleared his throat, all their glasses now standing empty, his playful grin slipping away as the tone in the air shifted. He leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on the table. Topper and Y/N exchanged a quick glance, both sensing the change in his demeanor.

"Alright, jokes aside," Kelce began, his voice quieter now. "We need to talk."

Topper snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t tell me you’re cheating on her, man."

Kelce shot him a sharp glare. “Shut the fuck up, Topper.”

Y/N raised her brows, her curiosity piqued. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, Kelce hesitated. He sighed, his eyes drifting over the tables around them, before focusing back on Y/N. His usual easygoing nature had completely vanished, replaced by something more solemn, more deliberate.

“I was talking to some guys down at the beach yesterday,” he started slowly, his voice lowering as if he was about to share something important. Y/N leaned in instinctively, feeling the weight of the moment.

“They were saying things… I mean I didn’t believe it at first, but you need to know.” 

He continued, looking down at the table for a second before lifting his gaze to meet hers. Y/N frowned, sensing the heaviness in his words. She could tell it was something serious, “Okay, and what does this have to do with me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, though her insides churned. Kelce bit the inside of his cheek, clearly uncomfortable, but he pushed on. 

“They were talking about why Cooper left New York last year…”

Y/N’s brow furrowed, her instincts screaming for him to stop, to not go down this road, to just leave it and go home, not to ruin a good night. But she couldn’t stop now. Not when he’d already begun, 

“What do you mean? He said it was family business, didn’t he?”

“Well," Kelce hesitated, his voice lowering further. "Apparently, there were two other girls—different ones, from New York—who accused him of… well, you know.” He paused, searching for the right words. 

“Sexual assault.”

What?

The words hit her like a brick to the chest, knocking the air from her lungs. Y/N’s breath caught, her mind struggling to process what she’d just heard. 

“...what?” 

She questioned, her voice a little shaky as she sucked a breath in, sharper than she intended.Kelce took a deep breath as he continued in a hushed voice. 

“People are saying he left because of it, that he tried to cover it up. His family... they got involved, trying to make it all go away. They left for a while, layed low, and let the whole thing blow over.” He looked at Y/N, gauging her reaction carefully, 

“...I’m just telling you what I heard.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if to steady herself. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel her mind reeling. She didn’t want to hear any of this- especially not now, not after everything Cooper had already done. She felt queasy but she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the new found uneasiness. She sat in stunned silence, the words Kelce had just said still reverberating in her mind. How was she supposed to react- what was she supposed to say? The room felt like it was closing in on her, the quiet pressing in on her chest.

“Is it true?”

She finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with disbelief. She met Kelce’s eyes, waiting for an answer she wasn’t sure she could even handle. Kelce didn’t look away. He simply nodded, his expression grim, heavy with the weight of what he was about to confirm. 

“Yeah. I think it is- but I'm not sure.”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart racing as she tried to digest the words, but they didn’t sit right with her. It didn’t make sense, yet it did. Everything was starting to fall into place, the way he avoided talking about New York, how he never introduced her to any of his old friends. Her mind was whirling, but there were no words for the storm inside her.

“Look,” Kelce began again, his voice softer now, “I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else. You deserve to know.”

. . .

“Yeah, um, thanks,” 

Y/N shook her head, trying to dispel the swirling thoughts that were clouding her mind,  she muttered, the words coming out stiff. She wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for the information, or for simply being the one to say it instead of randomly overhearing it, which would have made her feel even worse. She pushed back her chair, the scrape of it against the floor startling her in the sudden stillness of the moment. 

“I think I’m going to head back-” she said, her voice faltering slightly as she fumbled for an excuse, “-I just remembered I promised my mom I’d help her with the flower arrangements for her charity event this Sunday,” she added, half to herself.

Topper and Kelce exchanged a look, both of them knowing full well she was lying, but neither of them called her out on it. They could see she wasn’t okay-  she wasn’t even close to being okay, not for a while- but this wasn’t something they could push her on.

“Come on, I’ll drop you home,” 

Topper said gently, standing up and offering her a small, understanding smile. Y/N shook her head, though the invitation was warm. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Nah, c’mon. I don’t want to be the third wheel with Kelce and Phoebe anyways.”

He was already moving toward her, a playful grin now taking over his features as he cut her off teasingly. Y/N gave him a half-smile, nodding her head as she stood up. 

“Thanks, Top.” 

She turned toward Kelce, who was watching her quietly, his expression serious. She walked over and pulled him into a brief hug, trying to convey something unspoken through the gesture. When she pulled away, he looked at her, his expression softening with concern. He spoke, his voice much quieter now.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you-” 

“-No, no, you didn’t upset me. I’m glad you told me.”

Y/N shook her head quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Kelce nodded, but he still looked worried. She nodded, back at him as she continued,

 “Don’t worry about me, Kels. Enjoy the evening with your girl. Tell her I said hi.”

He gave her a small, understanding smile, then shot a glance at Topper. “Alright. Well, if you need anything.”

Y/N managed a faint smile before turning to Topper, who had his arm outstretched for her, a silent offer of support. She slipped her arm through his, feeling the weight of the evening starting to take its toll. Topper wrapped a friendly arm around her waist, giving her a gentle pat on the back. 

“Let’s get you home.”

She gave him a faint nod, her heart heavy with everything she had just learned, everything she had yet to process. The thought of Cooper, of what he’d done not only to her- but to other women? It made the world around her feel dizzy. As they left the country club, Y/N’s mind was miles away, Topper’s soft rambling blurring in her ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N sat on the cold bathroom floor, her back pressed against the wall, her head buried in her hands. She hadn’t even realised how fast the tears had started to fall until they were dripping down her face, mixing with the bitter taste of the vomit she had just expelled. Her stomach twisted in knots, the disgust still gnawing at her insides, even after everything had settled.

Fuck

She knew it was stupid to let a rumour, a whisper in the wind, make her feel so fucking broken. She wasn’t even sure if it was true. Yet somehow, it amplified everything that had been building up in her since the trial. The emptiness. The uncertainty. Cooper’s smirk still etched into her mind after the verdict was announced, and the weight of his actions felt like a suffocating fog that wouldn’t lift, no matter how many breaths she took.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to scrub away the aftertaste of bile and despair. Her phone buzzed on the floor beside her, sending a shiver through her. The sound was piercing in the stillness of the bathroom, and for a moment, she just stared at it, willing it to stop. It buzzed again, the screen lighting up with a name she hadn't expected to see,

Rafey

Her stomach tightened at the thought of him. She hadn’t seen him in days, not properly- only in fleeting moments between his community service shifts, or anger management classes. He’d been keeping his distance, but she couldn’t deny how much she missed him. It was... complicated. Everything was so fucking complicated.

She eyed the phone cautiously, her thumb hovering over the screen as she debated whether or not to open the message. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear from him. She did. But with everything that had happened, with the weight of what she was processing, she wasn’t sure she could handle one more thing on her plate right now.

Rafey  :  You okay? 

Rafey  :  You haven't replied to my texts.

The message was simple enough, but the way he asked, so direct and concerned, sent a ripple of warmth through her chest. But she hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to drag him further into this mess. What would he even say if he knew what was really going on in her head? She almost didn’t respond. But something about his message kept her glued to the screen.The phone buzzed again, snapping her from her thoughts.

Rafey  :  Just want to know you’re okay?

Y/N stared at her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen, unsure of what to type next. It felt like everything had been so difficult lately, and Rafe's message was the first real connection she'd had in days.

Angel  :  I’m good. 

Angel  :  Helping mom organise some stuff

She read the message, pressing her lips together as she waited for him to reply. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a small bridge between them.

Rafey  :  That’s good

Angel  :  How was your service?

Rafey  :  Don’t wanna talk about it 

Rafey  :  Tired of that shit.

Y/N sat back against the toilet seat, her heart heavy with guilt. If he’d never gotten involved in what happened between her and Cooper, he wouldn’t be stuck with this sentence. He wouldn’t have to endure the endless hours of community service, the stress, the constant reminders of his worthlessness from his father. The mess she'd dragged him into. She felt a sting in her chest.

Angel  :  I’m sorry

Rafey  :  Don’t be

Y/N sat there, her chest tight, as the seconds ticked by. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard again, and without thinking, her fingers moved on their own, typing out the words she’d been holding back for so long.

Angel  : I miss you

Angel  :  I miss you so much

She stared at the message after sending it, her heart pounding in panic after she hit the send button. The little dots showed he was typing something.

Then they stopped.

She frowned, feeling the conversation slip back into that tense silence again, her eyes were stuck to the lit up screen of her phone, begging him to respond but nothing came. She could feel the lump slowly rising in her throat again.

No, no, no, no-

But a beat passed, and then suddenly his reply came.

Rafey  :  I miss you too angel

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She smiled, a small, sad smile, as she read his words. There was something so simple and yet so meaningful in them. Her fingers hovered again, wanting to say something else but unsure.

Then the phone buzzed again.

Rafey  :  Miss you every day

Y/N stared at the screen, she could feel the weight of the unspoken between them. She wanted to respond, to keep the conversation going, but for now, all she could do was sit there and stare at the screen, her smile turning sad as her mind drew her back to what Kelce had told her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was starting to set, casting a soft golden hue over the apartment as Y/N moved around the kitchen. The scent of garlic and herbs filled the air as she arranged plates and silverware on the table, her hands moving with a kind of routine that helped calm her racing thoughts. She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to invite the guys over. Maybe it was the tension of the past week- maybe she just wanted something normal, something that felt like a distraction from the storm in her head.

She placed the last glass on the table and stepped back to survey the scene. The table was set simply- nothing extravagant, just a warm and inviting arrangement. Y/N ran a hand through her hair, sighing lightly as she wiped her hands on her pink apron. She could hear the faint hum of the oven in the background, the dinner nearly ready. 

As she adjusted the napkins, her phone buzzed from the counter. She glanced over at it, catching the name flashing across the screen. 

Young Rich & Sexy 

T-man  :  You’re not gonna believe it Y/N

Kels  :  We’re already on our way

T-man  :  Left 10 minutes ago

Angel  :  What? 

Angel  :  You guys are early???

Angel  :  Now that’s a miracle

T-man  :  We decided to give you a surprise

 Rafey  :  I'm 10 minutes away too

Angel  :  Rafe don’t text and drive, please

Rafey  :  I’m a professional

Kels  :  and me

Angel  :  …

Kels  :  fr?

Angel  :  boy idgaf

Kels  :  right 

T-man  :  he’s literally swerving as we speak 

Kels  :  anyway

Kels  :  HELL YEAH GIMME SOME FOOD

Angel  :  FATTYYYY

T-man  :  You two need to stop spending all your time on TikTok

T-man  : You’re losing brain cells

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She set the phone down, looking at the table once more. There was something almost surreal about it—this dinner, this small moment of peace amid the chaos. She hadn’t seen Rafe much lately with his community service, and there were still so many unspoken things between them, but having him here tonight felt like a small step forward. She checked the oven one more time and then hurried to tidy up a bit more- just a few stray dishes, a stray fork here and there. She didn’t want to be caught off-guard when the guys arrived.

Y/N heard the doorbell ring and quickly wiped her hands on her apron, making her way to the front door with a small smile. She hadn’t realised how much she needed the company until now. The sound of laughter and chatter from the group of friends outside was already enough to ease some of the tension that had been lingering in her chest for days. When she swung open the door, there was Kelce, grinning like an idiot. He immediately leaned in with a playful wink and said, his voice smooth as ever,

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her head tilting back slightly as she placed her hands on her hips, giving him an unimpressed look. Before she could respond, Topper walked in right behind him, his smirk matching the playful tone in the room. 

“He’s been practicing that for the past ten minutes.”

Kelce playfully punched Topper in the arm, “Not cool, man, that was supposed to stay between us!”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling, as she stepped aside to let them in. They all trooped inside, Kelce and Topper bickering lightheartedly, but Y/N’s attention flickered past them to Rafe, who had been trailing behind the others. He was standing in the doorway now, his eyes meeting hers in that brief, still moment.

. . .

. . .

The space between them felt charged, like everything was suddenly up in the air, neither of them sure how to step back into this dynamic they’d shared before everything had gone wrong. But Rafe was the first to break the silence, his voice quiet but warm.

“Hey.”

“Hey” Y/N replied, her voice soft, a little unsure. She stepped aside to let him in, the faintest flutter in her chest at the sight of him.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Rafe’s gaze softened, and he nodded, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand as they stood close together. “Yeah. Just... been a long week. Glad to be here.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten at the sight of him. She didn’t know why but without thinking, she stepped forward, and before either of them could second-guess it, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

Oh-

Rafe hesitated for a second before his arms enveloped her, pulling her in close.

For a long, quiet moment, neither of them said anything. It was just the two of them, standing there in the doorway, holding each other. She could feel his breath on her hair, his arms a little tighter around her than usual. Neither of them was in a rush to let go, neither wanted to break this simple connection they’d been craving for so long.

“Cmon Y/n, a man's gotta eat!” 

Seriously?

Kelces voice rang out with an exasperated sigh. Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away slightly, looking up at Rafe with a smile as they walked through the house to the guys in the kitchen . Y/N rolled her eyes, smirking at Kelce. 

“I’m not making anyone wait. Go sit down your ungrateful ass down and I’ll bring everything out in a sec.”

Kelce immediately walked off from the kitchen into the connected dining room causing the girl to let out an amused scoff as he dropped into one of the chairs, his movements as if he’d just arrived at the world’s greatest feast. Topper spoke,

“Alright well, I’m ready to eat my weight in whatever you’ve got cooking.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his words, the boy carrying off some plates with him as he left. She headed to the stove to check on the food one last time, feeling a little lighter with each passing moment. As she adjusted the heat, she heard Rafe’s footsteps behind her. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter, watching her.

“You did all this yourself?” 

He asked, his voice almost low, as if the question was both casual and somehow loaded at the same time. Y/N shrugged, trying to play it off cool. 

“It’s no big deal. I like cooking.”

Rafe smiled, his eyes scanning the spread she’d prepared. There was something about the way he looked at her—an appreciation, a recognition that she was doing this for them, for him. She wasn’t sure if it was the tiredness from the day or the sheer comfort of their usual rapport, but her heart seemed to settle a little.

“Well, it smells amazing…” 

He said, his voice steady. Y/N caught the way his gaze lingered on the dishes, eyes narrowing slightly. It wasn’t just the usual appreciation. No, this was different. Rafe’s eyes flicked from one pan to the other and then back to the food with a subtle sense of recognition, like he was trying to place the scent.

“Wait-”

Is that. . . ?

 He trailed off, unsure whether to finish the question. Y/N gave a small nod of her head, trying to remain casual, though she could see the look of disbelief creeping into his expression. 

“Um, yeah... I thought you could use some right now.” 

She shrugged. Rafe stared at her for a moment, lips slightly parted, as though he couldn’t quite understand how she’d known. The dish- a comforting, aromatic smell with a richness that he hadn’t realised he missed- was something his mom used to make all the time. Something familiar and warm, a little taste of home he hadn’t realised he'd been longing for. It had always been the kind of meal she’d cook when he needed grounding, when everything else in his life felt too unpredictable.

“How- how did you remember that?” 

I remember everything you've ever told me about you

He asked, his voice almost incredulous, his gaze locking onto hers as though she’d just hung the stars in the sky.

Y/N smiled softly, a touch of warmth spreading through her chest. “When you’d talk about your mum sometimes, you mentioned it. I don't know... it felt like the right thing to do.”

Rafe blinked, clearly moved by the simplicity of her gesture. It wasn’t just the food- it was the thought behind it. The fact that she’d listened, that she’d paid attention, and remembered the small things about him, things he hadn’t even realised he still held dear. They brushed against each other lightly, his hand grazing hers where it rested on the counter, the contact innocent enough, but it lingered in a way that made her pulse quicken. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Their shoulders brushed again, a small touch that felt intimate  Before she could think too much about it, Y/N gestured towards the table. 

“Let’s get them fed before Kelce blows up.”

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he gave her a nod, “Lead the way.”

As the others settled into the dining room, the atmosphere lightened, the earlier tension of the week drifting away. Yet, for Y/N and Rafe, there was something more, something unspoken. It was the way they looked at each other when no one else was paying attention, the way their hands nearly brushed again, but neither of them reached out.

The plates were empty now, save for a few crumbs and remnants of sauce, the table was littered with empty glasses that had once held wine and water. The soft clink of ice in glasses and the occasional burst of laughter filled the room, creating an atmosphere that felt warm and easy, like the kind of evening that could stretch on forever. Y/N leaned back in her chair, a satisfied hum slipping from her lips as she glanced around the table. The food had been a success, and the company even more so. Rafe sat across from her, his usual intense, guarded expression softened by the easy chatter that had flowed between them throughout the night. He was laughing now, his head tipped back, eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. Topper, ever the troublemaker, had just finished cracking a joke, and they all burst into laughter. Once the laughter died down, Rafe, grinning, sat back with his drink, his eyes on Y/N, a playful glint in his eyes.

"You know, I still remember when you tried to make that lasagna when we were kids," Rafe said, a smirk forming on his lips. Y/N furrowed her brows, not sure where he was going with this. She blinked at him, 

“What are you talking about?"

"Come on, you were like... what, 11? And you insisted you could cook for everyone," Rafe teased, leaning forward slightly. "You were so proud of it. You said you were going to make a ‘real’ lasagna like the ones your mom made."

Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation. "Oh my god, don’t remind me. That thing was so bad" she laughed, rubbing her forehead at the memory. "It was burnt on the edges and gooey in the middle, and I made everyone eat it anyway."

"I can’t believe made us eat it" 

Topper chimed in, grinning wickedly. "And I’m pretty sure you cried when I said it was... well... an acquired taste." He burst into laughter, and Y/N shot him a playful glare. Kelce spoke up placing his glass back down onto the table, 

“Man you said it was shit” The guys laughed at Y/n as she shook her head at them, a wide smile on her lips. She protested, her voice light-hearted,

"I was trying to impress you guys!" 

Well you impressed me

Rafe spoke up, tone softening. "And I’ve never seen you so determined about anything in my life. Even if it did end up looking like-."

"-Hey! I was 11," she said, throwing her hands up in mock defence as she rolled her eyes. "Give me a break."

"Honestly, I don’t know how you thought that burnt mess was a ‘proper’ lasagna," Topper said, still chuckling. "But you were all in so, points for effort."

Rafe grinned, then added, "But the funniest part was that we all ate it because you asked so nicely. Even when we were pretty sure we’d end up with food poisoning."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment of the memory, but there was something comforting about the way they reminisced, as though they were all back in that childhood space, where nothing mattered more than getting through the day with each other.

"You guys are lucky I never tried cooking again after that," she said with a smirk, crossing her arms. "It was years before I attempted to make anything again."

"Well, thank God," Kelce teased, "or we’d be stuck with another shitty lasagna."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face didn’t fade. "Yeah, yeah," she said, her voice warm, almost fond. She looked at the empty plates on the table and started thinking about how she should start clearing the table when Rafe suddenly stood up, grabbing his empty plate.

"No, no, leave it," 

Y/N called out, quickly protesting against his actions. "I’ll do them later. Seriously, you’re my guest, Rafe. Let me do it."

But Rafe wasn’t having it. He grabbed another plate, shaking his head as he stacked them up, lifting them in his hands. "I’m not letting you do it by yourself" he said, voice firm.

"Rafael Alexander Cameron, sit down right now." 

That was hot...

Shut up

Y/N’s words were sharp, and she stood up from where she sat opposite him, hands on her hips as she stared at him with a small frown on her brow. For a second, Rafe just stared at her, clearly amused. But before he could argue back, Topper and Kelce burst out laughing from the living room.

"Oooohhh, full government name, man!" 

Topper cackled, leaning back in her chair. Rafe shot him a glare, his mouth twitching into a grin despite himself. "Seriously?" he muttered, but he was clearly trying not to laugh too. Kelce, still snickering, raised his glass and chimed in, 

"She’s not messing around Rafe."

Y/N shot a playful smile over to Kelce, before turning back to Rafe, arms folded. "Sit. Down. You’re my guest, and I’m doing the dishes. End of story."

Rafe rolled his eyes, but there was no arguing with her. He slowly sank back down into his seat with a small sigh, his eyes never leaving hers. "Fine," he muttered. 

"But next time, I’m taking the plates."

Y/N grinned, victorious. "Next time, I’ll make sure we have pizza, just so you can put the boxes in the trash."

Topper and Kelce both groaned. "That’s cheating!" Kelce said with a laugh, dramatically throwing his hands up.

"I don’t care," Y/N shrugged, grinning at them. Rafe leaned back in his chair, watching her as she turned back to the sink. "You’re lucky I like you," he said quietly, though there was a teasing edge to his voice. Y/N glanced over her shoulder at him, shaking her head.

"Don’t make me regret letting you eat my food."

"Too late for that," Rafe teased, catching her eye with a smile that made her heart skip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time had slipped by in comfortable conversation, the laughter still lingering in the air as Topper and Kelce made their way to the front door, grabbing their jackets. Y/N lingered in the hallway, watching them, feeling contentment. The night had been easy, almost like old times, but now that it was winding down, there was a small sense of unease creeping in.

Did I shut the window in my room. . . ?

"Thanks again for dinner, Y/N," Kelce said with a grin, his hand already on the door handle. 

"You’ve been promoted to best cook I know- well, next to my mom, of course."

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. "Uh-huh, sure. It was pretty simple, but I’ll take the compliment."

"Don’t be modest," Topper added, giving her a playful wink. "That was a five-star meal, seriously if you ever invest in a restaurant, let me know. I’ll be your first customer."

Y/N laughed again, but she felt something tugging in her chest. The house was starting to feel a bit quieter, emptier now that her parents had gone on a business trip and the boys were getting ready to leave. She shifted on her feet, eyes flicking to Rafe, who was standing by the couch, casually leaning against the wall, arms folded. As Kelce and Topper said their goodbyes, Y/N hesitated for a moment, then turned to Rafe. She could feel her pulse quicken, though she wasn’t sure why.

Ask him-

"Hey, uh…" she started, trying to sound casual. "D’you wanna stay a little longer? It’s just I- don’t really like being home alone…"

Rafe’s expression softened immediately, his eyes flicking from her face to the door, then back to her. "Yeah, if you want me to, Angel." He sent her a small smile, Y/N’s chest warmed at the words. She offered him a small, grateful smile. 

"Yes please."

Kelce and Topper exchanged a quick look as they made their way to the door, and then they both turned back to her with their signature playful energy.

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yeah?" Topper grinned, giving Rafe a wink before he turned over to Y/n. 

Dick

"Catch you later, Y/N."

Kelce followed suit, pulling her into a quick, friendly hug patting Rafe on the back with a suggestive look, flashing him a teasing grin as he pulled away. As the door closed behind them, the silence settled in. The atmosphere shifted a little, the weight of the quiet filling the space, but it felt different with Rafe still there. She turned to him, her voice softer now. 

"Thanks for staying Rafey."

Rafe just gave her a warm, easy smile, the house felt quieter now, but not in a bad way. She glanced over at Rafe, who was already heading towards the kitchen, his casual stance making him look right at home.

"Come on," she said, "Let’s get these dishes out of the way before I lose my motivation."

Rafe smirked, following her into the kitchen, his hands already moving to gather up the empty plates. "You’re just trying to avoid doing the hard part by getting me to do it,. Is that why you asked me to stay hmm?"

Y/N chuckled as she began rinsing the plates, the sound of water running filling the space. "Maybe. I’ve never been great with dishes. But you know what? I think I deserve a break after cooking for you guys."

"Fair point." 

He set to work drying the plates with a towel, his movements efficient but relaxed. It was strange- this kind of peaceful, mundane domesticity- something she hadn’t realised she missed. They were just two people, doing something as simple as washing dishes, but in a way it felt comforting, grounding.

"So, how’s your week been?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him as she wiped down a plate. "Any trouble with the um... community service?"

Rafe sighed, lifting a plate to dry it with exaggerated care. "It’s shit," he muttered, half-smiling. "I’d rather be anywhere else."

"... it’s better than sitting in jail?"

That was the worse thing you could've said

She smiled softly at that, her gaze lingering on him. There was something about his frustration, the way it came out in small bursts like this, that made her realise how much he had to give up—how much he was changing, just to make things right. Rafe looked up from his work, his eyes meeting hers for a moment, softening. 

"Yeah. I guess. I mean, you know, it helps that I have a good... um, a good reason to push through."

Why did you say that!?

Y/N’s stomach fluttered slightly at his words, her scrubbing at the dishes slowing down. She wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from the night but there was something about the way he looked at her, like maybe they were on the same page for the first time in a while.

The quiet continued, comfortable, with the soft sounds of clinking dishes and the low hum of the kitchen light. She was focusing on the task at hand, but she couldn’t help stealing glances at Rafe. He was standing so close, just in his own element, drying plates and listening to her talk. 

"Thanks for sticking around," she said suddenly, her voice quieter now. "I know this is probably the last thing you wanted to do… stay at my place and help me with dishes."

Rafe met her gaze, his smile softening, and he shook his head. "No- it’s... nice. I like being here, with you. You make it... feel normal again, you know?"

I wish it was normal again

I wish it was normal again

Y/N paused, his words settling between them. She wasn’t sure why, but the simplicity of them hit her harder than she expected and she turned her back to him for a moment, pretending to scrub a dish a little harder than necessary.

"Yeah," she murmured, "I get that."

The rhythm of washing and drying dishes continued, the sounds of water running and plates clinking blending into the background. But Y/N couldn’t shake the thought that had been swirling in her mind for hours now. She couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine, like Rafe was just... okay with all of this. 

With her.

She placed the plate in her hands down a little harder than necessary, her breath catching for a second before she spoke up, her voice small.

“Rafe, I... I’m sorry I pulled you into all of this.” 

She glanced over at him, her chest tight as she tried to gather the right words. 

“I mean, this whole thing with Cooper and then taking him to court. And now you’re stuck doing this shitty community service because of me. I—" She shook her head, feeling that familiar weight of guilt press on her shoulders. "If I could go back, I wouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t have made you a part of any of this.”

There was a beat of silence, and her heart hammered in her chest. It felt like she had to say it, though. To get it out there, to finally apologise for everything she felt responsible for. But before she could continue, Rafe cut her off, his voice firm, but full of that comfort he always seemed to give her without even trying.

“Hey, c'mon- don’t do this” 

He said, looking at her with a soft but serious expression. He set the plate he was drying back down and stepped a little closer to her, reaching out gently to touch her arm. 

“It’s not your fault Y/n. None of this is on you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her voice catching as she looked up at him, feeling the weight of the emotions she couldn’t quite keep in check. 

“But-”

“-No” 

Rafe interrupted, his eyes steady as he held her gaze. “Listen to me. This? It’s not on you. I’m doing this because I have to, yeah, it's a little shitty but I’m not doing it because of you, or because of some mess you dragged me into. I’m doing it because I want to make things right.”

She could feel her throat tighten, the words she had wanted to say now trapped. “I just feel like-"

“Y/N,” Rafe said her name softly, stepping even closer now, his voice lower and more intense. 

“Stop blaming yourself. I don’t want you to carry this weight. It’s not yours to carry.”

I know

She felt a lump form in her throat, the reassurance she’d been needing finally coming from him. She wanted to protest, but she knew, deep down, that he was right. “I’m sorry,” she whispered after a pause, trying to blink away the tears that had gathered at the edges of her eyes. 

“I just... I don’t want you to hate me for this.”

Hate you- ?

Rafe shook his head, his hand coming up to her face, thumb brushing lightly over the tear that had dropped down her cheek. 

"I could never hate you." 

His voice was low, steady, and certain, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Y/N allowed herself to let go of that constant worry gnawing at her.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything, okay? I’m here for you. And I always will be.”

The sincerity in his voice hit her harder than she expected, and for a moment, she just stood there, letting his words sink in. The quiet between them was heavy with emotion, and all Y/N could do was nod, fighting the urge to bury her face in his chest, but holding herself back for fear of overwhelming him. Rafe took a slow step back, giving her a little space, but his eyes never left hers. 

“I’m serious, you don’t owe me an apology. We’re in this together, yeah?”

Y/N managed a small smile, her chest loosening just a fraction. “Yeah... together.”

“Good,” Rafe said, offering her that same soft smile. “Now cut out the distractions and finish those dishes”

She rolled her eyes, smile tugging at her lips. The last of the dishes were finally put away, and Y/N let out a small sigh of relief, wiping her hands on the dish towel. She turned to the table, where the remnants of their meal still sat- half-empty glasses, scattered napkins, a few crumbs left behind from the bread.

"Okay," she said, glancing at Rafe. "I'm going to move onto the table now."

Rafe, who had already started wiping his hands on a towel, nodded, shooting her a small, knowing smile. "Alright. I’ll be back in a minute. I need to use the bathroom."

Y/N gave him a quick nod, watching him as he turned to head out of the kitchen. She heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, the sound of the bathroom door closing gently behind him. For a moment, she stood there, looking at the table, unsure of where to start. It was always the little tasks that seemed the most mundane but were oddly soothing to her.

She grabbed the dishes one by one, stacking them up on the table, looking around at the surface deciding what to do next. The quiet of the house wrapped around her, but it didn’t feel heavy this time. Rafe’s presence lingered like a quiet warmth, and she found herself smiling softly, letting her thoughts drift. Y/N’s fingers paused in their movements as her phone buzzed from the edge of the table. She glanced over at it, instinctively reaching for it, her eyes immediately narrowing at the name flashing across the screen. 

Hale. 

Huh?

The lawyer who had represented her in the case against Cooper. She picked up the phone, her heart already starting to race as she unlocked it and opened the message. Her thumb hovered over the screen, reading the text in the dim light.

Y/N,  

I hope this message finds you well, though I wish I were writing under better circumstances. After careful consideration and discussions with your parents, they’ve expressed that it’s best I’m the one to share this news with you directly.  

Following a thorough review of the case and new information that has recently come to light, it’s become clear there were significant irregularities during the trial. Most notably, we’ve discovered that a considerable number of the jurors were brought in from New York- where the Miller family has influence. This raises serious concerns about the impartiality of the verdict, as it suggests the process may have been compromised.  

Additionally, two individuals from New York have come forward with allegations against Cooper, detailing experiences eerily similar to what you endured. Their testimony, along with authenticating evidence, suggests a pattern of behaviour that casts further doubt on the fairness of the original trial.  

With this in mind, we are formally requesting the reopening of your case. While this decision is not one I take lightly, I strongly believe that these new developments deserve the full weight of legal examination.  

I understand how overwhelming and painful this must be to hear, and I want to assure you that I will do everything I can to assure we get a verdict that is right. I will be in touch with updates as soon as I have them. In the meantime, please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything, whether it’s clarity on the process or just someone to talk to.  

You’ve already shown so much strength, Y/N, and I deeply regret that you’re being asked to find it once more.  

Warm regards,  

Charlotte Hale

Her heart pounded in her chest, a bitter mix of confusion and a deep-seated frustration swirling together. Y/N’s fingers trembled as she placed the phone back on the table, her gaze lingering on the screen as if she couldn’t fully process what she had just read. The words felt like a slap, a reminder of everything that had been taken from her. The case that she had fought so hard for, the justice she had convinced herself was possible, was now wrapped up in layers of corruption and bias she couldn’t ignore.

The case reopened? 

Her heart hammered in her chest as the anger began to rise. It wasn’t just disbelief now. It was fury- sharp and biting, gnawing at her insides. She had poured everything into this, had trusted the system, trusted the people she thought wanted to do right. And now this.

The verdict wasn’t fair?

She had been so close. So close to getting the closure she needed. And now… now, she didn’t even know if she could trust anything anymore.

This isn’t fair 

Her mind kept replaying the way Cooper had walked out of that courtroom, free, smug, like it had all been a game to him. And now, this. The truth. It felt like a cruel joke- one that she had been too naïve to see through. The weight of the phone on the table seemed to mock her now, a symbol of how little control she had in this whole mess. Y/N’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, her mind a storm of thoughts she couldn’t process fast enough. Anger burned through her veins, a fire that had been simmering for so long, and now it was finally exploding. She could feel it- hot, blistering rage, every part of her body trembling with it.

She stared at the phone, her vision blurring, anger twisting in her chest like a fist. It was all a setup. All of it. She had been the fool, who thought she would win the case because he was being truthful. Without thinking, her hand shot out, grabbing the glass in front of her. The crystal was cold and smooth in her grip. She squeezed it so hard her fingers burned, knuckles white. 

In one furious motion, she hurled it across the room.

The glass shattered against the wall with a sickening crack, fragments scattering like sharp confetti. The sound of it felt almost like a release. 

But it wasn’t enough.

Her breath hitched as she turned, her gaze wild, she grabbed the next thing within reach- a plate, its ceramic cold and fragile under her fingertips. With a force she didn’t know she had, she threw it, sending it hurtling toward the floor where it shattered in a loud, jarring explosion. The sound echoed through the room like the breaking of everything she had worked for, everything she had trusted.

The anger surged again, unstoppable. Her hand shot out once more, knocking over her wine glass, sending the red liquid splashing across the table, staining the cloth beneath. She didn’t care. She was shaking, tears hot and angry as they rolled down her face, mixing with the fury that refused to dissipate. She knocked over another plate, hearing it shatter on impact. She felt no relief. She was beyond that now. 

More glass. 

More plates. 

Her hands were raw from the force with which she threw each object, but it didn’t matter. She could hear the cracks and shattering as the world she thought she knew disintegrated in front of her, and the only thing she could do was rage against it.

“WHAT THE FUCK-” 

She screamed out as she sent another glass flying, this one hitting the wall with such force it burst into tiny, jagged pieces, some of the hitting against her clothing.

She could hardly breathe anymore. Her heart pounded, a wild drumbeat in her chest, she wiped at the tears blurring her vision, angry that she was even crying. But the weight of it, the crushing feeling of being tricked, being lied to, was too much.

The table and the floor surrounding it was now a mess of broken glass and scattered debris. Her hands trembled, her pulse racing, but she was still moving- throwing, smashing, letting it all spill out in the only way she knew how.

Her breathing was frantic, her chest tightening as her body shook with the force of the emotions that had been building up. This wasn’t just about Cooper. This wasn’t just about the case. It was about feeling small, helpless, like nothing she did could ever change the outcome. She was drowning in it.

The sound of crashing glass echoed through the house, a juxtaposition to the tranquility that lingered moments before. Rafe’s head snapped up from the bathroom doorway as the sharp noises rang in his ears. His heartbeat quickened, and before he could even process it, his feet were carrying him down the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The sight that greeted him when he reached the dining room made him stop dead in his tracks.

Shit

Y/N stood in the middle near the table, surrounded by the wreckage of shattered glass, ceramic and scattered debris. Her breathing was ragged, each intake of air coming in harsh, shallow bursts. She was shaking, her hands trembling at her sides, the furious anger that had consumed her only moments before now replaced with a hollow, devastated kind of exhaustion.

For a long moment, Rafe stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing. He had never seen her like this- there was nothing left of the composed girl he’d seen all night. He stepped forward cautiously, his footsteps tentative as he moved through the mess of broken glass and spilled wine. 

“Y/N…” 

Talk to me please

He called softly, but she didn’t react, her gaze fixed on the floor as she stood amidst the destruction, the room echoing with the remnants of her rage. She didn’t even seem to register him at first, her body trembling uncontrollably, her face a mask of anger and pain. Rafe’s stomach clenched at the sight, his instincts kicking in. He didn’t even think about it as he moved forward to her. Slowly, her gaze lifted to meet his, her tear-filled eyes searching his face as if she were seeing him for the first time. 

“Everything was a set up” 

She choked out, the words broken and uneven as she sobbed. Rafe’s breath caught,

 “What do you mean… what’s going on?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she took a shaky step forward, stumbling slightly before she collapsed into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest, and she melted against him, the sobs wracking her frame.

“Y/N, talk to me” 

Rafe urged, his voice tight with confusion and concern. He could feel the shaking in her body, the way her entire being seemed to tremble with everything she was holding in. 

“What do you mean it was a set up angel?”

“The case… The jury… It was all rigged, Rafe… They knew Cooper’s family… It wasn’t fair…” 

She tried to speak but could barely get the words out. Her voice cracked, and her tears soaked into the fabric of his clothing, her body trembling violently as if the weight of it all was too much to hold. As Y/N continued to cling to him, Rafe’s gaze dropped to her hands. The sight made his stomach turn- her palms were covered in small, jagged cuts, blood trickling from the shards of glass that had embedded themselves in her skin.

“Shit” 

He muttered, his voice low with urgency but he didn’t react to his words. Rafe didn’t hesitate. Slowly, carefully, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her body against his chest, her shaky form against him. She didn’t fight it; she just let him move her, her head resting against his shoulder, her sniffles filling the otherwise quiet air.

“C’mon” 

He mumbled, gently guiding them to the kitchen. He sat her down on the counter, his hands on her waist as he steadied her. She looked at him, eyes still red and puffy, but she didn’t say anything. There were no words left in her, just the quiet sound of her sobs and the air between them. Rafe turned on the tap, running water over his hands, the cool stream contrasting sharply with the heat in the room. He grabbed a rag, wringing it out before gently dabbing it against her hands. The wet cloth was soothing against the cuts, and he could tell by the way she flinched slightly that it hurt, but she didn’t protest.

The silence between them was heavy, only broken by the soft sound of her sniffling as he carefully wiped the blood from her skin. He worked in silence, his focus entirely on her, on making sure she was okay, even though he didn’t have the answers to the mess she was feeling.

He stood between her open legs, his body close enough that he could hear every hitch in her breath, every tremble that ran through her limbs. His hands were gentle but firm as he continued to clean the cuts on her palms, brushing away the remaining chips of glass with careful fingers.

“I’m sorry” 

Why are you sorry?

She whispered suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was raw, cracked, and her eyes were glazed over, lost in something he couldn’t reach, and they were locked on his hands, orking against her sore palms. Rafe shook his head, not looking up at her. 

“It’s okay.”

No its not there's something wrong with me

She didn’t respond, just continued to sniffle quietly, the tears still slipping down her cheeks. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the unease swirling in his chest. He focused on her hands, on the delicate, small movements of his fingers as he finished cleaning them, his thumb gently brushing against the skin of her wrist. Y/N’s eyes met his gaze filled with so many emotions- grief, anger, exhaustion.

When he finished, he put the rag down, his hands resting lightly on her knees, his fingers gently brushing over her skin. For a moment, they just stayed like that- silent, still- before he lifted his eyes to hers, his expression soft. 

“Better?”

She nodded slowly, her gaze shifting away from him, though her hands were still in her lap, the cuts visible, but the bleeding stopped for now.

“Thank you.”

She said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Rafe gave her a small nod, he wanted to say more, wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but he knew those words wouldn’t be enough, it wasn’t a promise he could make. Instead, he let the silence hang between them, letting her breathe, letting her process everything that had happened.

Yet deep down, he promised himself that no matter what, he’d be there for her- just like before. 

Rafe set the damp cloth down on the counter, his fingers brushing against her knee as he took a step back. He looked at her, still perched on the counter, her hands now bandaged but trembling slightly in her lap. Her eyes were downcast, the weight of the evening still pulling her shoulders down like she was carrying it all alone.

“Let’s get you upstairs- you need to rest…”

He said gently, his voice soft but firm. Y/N shook her head weakly, her gaze flickering toward the mess in the dining room. 

“I need to… to clean up. I can’t—”

I can't believe I did that. . .

“-hey,” Rafe cut her off, stepping closer again, his voice low but steady.

“No, you don’t. I’ll take care of it, but you need to stop Y/N. Let me take care of you.”

Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue, but nothing came out. She was too tired, too drained to fight him, even if the guilt of leaving the mess weighed on her. She barely had time to process before his hands were under her thighs, effortlessly lifting her off the counter. A small, surprised breath escaped her, but she didn’t resist, her body instinctively curling into his, her legs subconsciously wrapping around his hips. Her head rested against his shoulder, tucked into the crook of his neck, and she felt the soft scratch of his shirt against her cheek. One arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders while the other rested against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric for support.

“I’ve got you” 

Rafe murmured, his voice steady and reassuring as he adjusted his grip on her. The warmth of his voice and the solidness of his hold made something in her chest ease, just a fraction. She pushed her face slightly further against his neck, her breath warm and shallow against his skin. Rafe carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing, each step slow and measured, his arms secure around her. The house was quiet, save for the soft creak of the stairs beneath his feet and the faint rustle of her hair against his shoulder.

When they reached her bedroom, Rafe pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside, careful not to jostle her. He gently set her down onto the bed, her head sinking into the plush pillow as she let out a small hum. He moved carefully, as though afraid he might shatter the fragile calm that had settled over the room. Leaning down, he grabbed the edge of the duvet and pulled it over her, tucking it around her slightly with care.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes flickering over her face. She looked worn out, her cheeks flushed from the tears she’d shed, but there was something softer about her now. Her gaze lifted to meet his, and he felt himself freeze under the weight of it.

“You okay?” 

No

He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. She hummed softly in response, her eyelids heavy but still watching him. Rafe swallowed hard, forcing himself to straighten. His hand, which had been resting on her arm over the covers, lingered for a second too long before he pulled it back.

“Alright, I’ll, uh…” He stepped back, clearing his throat as he tried to give her space. “I’ll let you rest. Just—” Before he could move further, her fingers reached out, gently wrapping around his hand. Her voice was soft, hesitant, but it stopped him in his tracks.

“Can you stay…?”

Please don't say no

Rafe blinked, caught off guard by her request. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice tentative, 

“Yeah… yeah, I can sit here.”

He gestured toward the floor next to the bed, already moving to lower himself, but her voice stopped him again.

“No, can you…” She trailed off, her gaze darting away briefly before returning to his. 

“Can you sit on the bed?”

On the bed?

Rafe stilled, unsure for a moment. He hesitated, his mind racing- he didn’t want to overstep, didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. But the look in her eyes was enough to convince him.

“Okay” 

He responded softly, nodding again. He moved around to the other side of the bed and sat down cautiously on the edge, leaving space between them. His weight shifted the mattress slightly as, but he kept his distance, his back pressed against the headboard, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

She nestled deeper into the pillow, her breathing evening out just a little as the tension began to drain from her frame. Y/n was on her side, her back to him, her figure curled slightly beneath the duvet. Her breathing was slow and even now, and for a moment, he thought she might’ve fallen asleep. He let himself relax just a little, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. But then her soft voice broke the silence.

“Rafe?”

His head tilted forward immediately, his focus snapping back to her. 

“Yeah?” 

His voice was quiet, laced with concern. There was a pause, and he watched the subtle rise and fall of her back as she inhaled shakily. 

“Can you come a little closer?” 

She asked, her voice quiet. Rafe froze. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right.  He blinked, his heart picking up speed in his chest.

Move closer?

“Are you sure?” 

He asked softly, cautious. He didn’t want to move if she wasn’t completely comfortable. She nodded, her head shifting slightly against the pillow. 

“Please…” 

She whispered, her voice cracking just a little. That single word unraveled him. Swallowing hard, he shifted carefully, inching closer to her, he slid fully onto the bed now, sitting up with his back against the headboard, a few inches away from her.

She didn’t move right away, her back still turned to him. But he could see her shoulders rising and falling, her breaths uneven, like she was fighting to hold herself together. He hesitated, staying on top of the covers. His eyes lingered on her back, on the way her figure seemed so small, so fragile in the dim light of the room. 

He cared for her so deeply it almost hurt.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, save for her soft breaths and the occasional rustle of fabric as she shuffled slightly. He didn’t move any closer, didn’t touch her, but his presence was steady, grounding. And even with her back to him, he didn’t look away, his heart aching for her in ways he couldn’t quite put into words. Y/N lay still, her back to Rafe, but her mind raced. She wanted to say something- needed to- but the words felt caught in her throat, tangled with her fears and doubts. She shifted slightly, her fingers clutching the edge of the duvet, and took a shallow breath. 

“Rafe” 

She mumbled again. He frowned slightly, leaning his head toward her. 

“What is it, Angel?” 

His voice was soft, concerned at the sudden sound of her voice again. She hesitated, her chest tightening as her thoughts swirled. 

What if it is too much? 

What if I scare him away? 

But the ache for comfort, for safety, outweighed her fears. She tried again, her voice trembling. “Can you—” She stopped, clamping her lips shut.

“Can I what?” 

Rafe prompted gently, his brow furrowing as he tried to meet her eyes, even though her back was still turned. Her heart pounded in her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath, she forced the words out, barely audible. 

“Could you… can you hold me - please?”

Oh

Rafe stiffened, his chest tightening as her words hung in the air. He looked down at her, the tension in her voice cutting straight through him. “Y/N…” he started, his voice trailing off as his mind churned.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…I don’t want to-”

“I trust you.” 

She responded to his cautious response, her voice breaking slightly as she cut him off. 

“Please. I just… I just really need this right now.”

The crack in her voice, the vulnerability in her words; it caused his jaw to clench as he wrestled with his thoughts. He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to risk pushing her too far, what if he triggered a bad memory, what if he reminded her of what had happened. But then again, how could he say no to her when she needed him like this? Finally, he exhaled, shifting slightly on the bed. 

“Alright. . .” 

He moved slowly, deliberately, as though afraid to startle her. Sliding down beside her, he positioned himself carefully, his chest lightly brushing her back. His arm hovered above her for a moment, his heart thudding loudly in his chest, before he gently draped it around her waist.

“Is this okay?” 

He asked, his voice barely audible. She nodded against the pillow, her breaths still shaky but steadying slightly as his warmth enveloped her. She whispered back to him,

“It’s perfect.”

Please don't let go

His heart panged in his chest as he felt her relax ever so slightly in his hold. He adjusted his arm, pulling her just a little closer, his hand resting lightly on her side. The curve of her back pressed into him, and he could feel the tension in her frame begin to ease. They stayed like that in silence, the soft rhythm of their breathing syncing. Rafe pressed his cheek against the pillow, his eyes fixed on the back of her head, her hair brushing his face slightly, the scent of her shampoo familiar, comforting.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t dare move, afraid to disrupt this newfound sense of intimacy between them. All he could do was hold her and hope that it was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[itsnesss]

hi! i read your other works and i LOVE your junho stories! could you write one where reader comes back from the games (maybe everyone voted to leave) and junho has been trying to find them? i love angst but please with a happy ending 🙏🏽

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | angst, emotional turmoil, implied trauma, mentions of running away, themes of guilt and forgiveness, hurt/comfort, fluff ending

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You stand in front of your apartment door, breathing heavily. The key trembles slightly between your fingers, and a gust of cold air runs through your body. You've been out longer than you wanted, though the truth is, you still don’t know what to say to him. You don’t know if the words you’ve prepared will be enough. All you have is fear, uncertainty, and a growing sense that you can’t delay this moment any longer.

With one last deep breath, you turn the key and open the door. The familiar smell of the place envelops you, but there’s something different. Something you hadn’t noticed before. A trace of anxiety seems to linger in every corner. The silence of the place surrounds you, and in that instant, everything feels heavier. And there he is. Asleep on the couch. His jacket is wrinkled, his face tired, his hair disheveled, but still as beautiful as ever.

You let out a sigh as you take in the scene. He’s been waiting for you. He’s been looking for you relentlessly. For days, he’s been following your trail, calling your phone, sending messages. But you never answered. You never told him anything. You had left, but you couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t know what had really happened.

You approach slowly, trying not to make a sound. Each step is a small reminder of what you’ve lived through. You sit next to him on the couch, and for a second, you just watch him, his calm breathing and relaxed face. You’d like to think that, in some way, all of this is real, but you know it isn’t. The shadows of what you’ve been through follow you, and the scars of everything you’ve endured are still too fresh.

The sound of your breathing is the only thing you can hear, and that sound seems to make the outside world fade away. The world you once believed in, where everything seemed simple. But now, nothing is as it seems. Everything has changed. Everything inside you has changed.

"Junho..." you whisper softly, not wanting to wake him. But you do. He opens his eyes slowly, confused by the change in the air. His gaze is slightly clouded with sleep, but when he sees you, something in him ignites. Concern begins to settle into his face, displacing the exhaustion.

"Are you... are you okay?" His voice, though raspy, is filled with worry. He immediately sits up, taking your hands in his. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he’s afraid to let you go, as if he fears you might disappear again.

Your eyes drift to the floor for a moment, unable to meet his. It hurts so much to see him like this. You’ve missed him, but the fear of what he might think if he knew the truth about what you experienced in that cursed game is greater than anything else. You don’t want to see him suffer because of you. You can’t.

"I’m sorry..." The anguish is palpable in your tone, but you don’t want to tell him the truth. Not immediately. Not now. The last thing you want is to drag him into your torment.

"I was looking for you everywhere. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I thought... I thought something terrible had happened," he says, his expression a mix of pain and frustration. The worry shines in his eyes. His breathing is uneven, and you realize how much he’s suffered during these days without hearing from you.

The guilt consumes you. Leaving him, making him suffer while you... you were living through an endless nightmare. But the worst part is that you can’t tell him.

"I had... I had some things to take care of," you reply, trying to make your voice sound steady, though inside you’re falling apart. "I didn’t mean to worry you."

A bitter laugh escapes your mouth, as if those words could justify everything you’ve done. He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

"But I was so scared... why didn’t you tell me anything?" His voice trembles with restrained emotion, a small thread of anguish in his tone. "I looked for you everywhere, sent messages, called you, but... nothing. I didn’t know if I should come find you, if I should keep waiting, or if something terrible had happened—"

You feel like you’re trapped, trapped in a deep pit you don’t know how to climb out of. The truth weighs on you, consumes you, but you can’t tell him.

"I... I’m sorry," you say, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Your hands tremble as they touch his, but somehow, the warmth of his touch comforts you. It’s not enough. It isn’t. But for a second, you feel safe.

Junho stays silent for a moment, watching you. You don’t know what’s going through his mind, but you can see how deeply every word affects him. His face is marked by a mix of frustration, desperation, and pain. But instead of pulling away, he moves even closer, his fingers gently brushing your face. The softness of his touch burns you, and your eyes fill with tears. You sink a little further into that pit. But now, it’s different. You’re not alone anymore.

"Don’t leave me," he whispers, his voice deep, laden with emotion. "No matter what you’ve done, I don’t want to lose you."

And those words pierce your heart like an arrow. Those words are the purest truth you’ve ever heard. But you still feel the weight of what you’ve done, of what you’ve lived through. Of what you’ll never be able to tell him.

"You can’t..." you murmur, your eyes fixed on the floor. "I don’t deserve to be near you..."

Junho takes a step closer to you, his forehead touching yours, the warmth of his body almost merging with yours. He makes you feel a little lighter, as if, for a moment, everything is okay.

"Don’t talk like that," he says softly, but his eyes are filled with pain. "What happened? Why are you so tired? What have you been doing?"

Your eyes fill with tears. In your heart, you know you can never tell him everything that happened. But you also don’t want him to keep suffering because of your absence. Because of what wasn’t. Because of everything you couldn’t avoid.

"It was just... just a rough time, Junho. I don’t want to talk about it now," you say, trembling slightly. You feel his breath near yours, his warmth surrounding you. But inside, you feel broken. What will you tell him? How do you explain everything that happened?

He takes a deep breath, but instead of pressing you, he simply hugs you. His body envelops yours, and he holds you tightly, as if he wants to merge with you, as if he can’t bear the thought of you leaving without a trace. The hug becomes a refuge, a safe place where words don’t matter, where all that’s left is the moment.

"What hurts me the most isn’t not knowing what you did, but how I felt when I thought I’d lost you," he says, his voice breaking. "All I want is for you to be here, with me."

The sound of his voice, filled with such pure emotion, makes you feel something you hadn’t felt in days: peace. Peace amidst chaos.

"I’m here, Junho," you finally say, looking up at him. "I don’t know what else to do, but I want you to forgive me."

He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes so soft they seem to hold everything he feels for you. And in that moment, you know. You don’t need to tell him anything else. It doesn’t matter what happened, what you lived through, what you endured. What matters is what you both have now. And that’s enough.

"I forgive you," he says softly, before moving even closer. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, full of promises. He holds you as if he’s grateful to have you back, and you do the same, giving him everything you have in that moment.

Love isn’t always easy. It’s not always what we expect. But here, in this small corner of his apartment, under the dim light of the lamps, you know that together, you can face whatever comes.

"Promise me we’ll never be apart again," he murmurs against your lips, smiling softly.

"Promise," you reply, letting the tears fall freely now, unafraid.

And in that instant, all the pain, all the suffering, disappears. It’s just you, Junho, and the warmth of his embrace that makes you feel safe again.

[lou-struck]

Made With Love Part 5

Made with Love  pt 5

OM Brothers & Datables x reader

Featuring: Simeon and a bonus character

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: yandere Simeon, mentions of kidnapping, passing out, overexertion. Slightly suggestive behavior.  Love Potion based personality changes, obsessive behaviors, mention of suggestive behavior, lots of teasing, kissing, touching, etc.

A/n: Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this process, I know it took awhile to finish this mini series but I hope that it’s worth it.

As the Sorcerer's words echo through the dark, a disbelieving shiver trails down your spine. "Can you please repeat that, Solomon," you ask, hoping that your fatigue has made you auditorily hallucinate and everything will be fine.

His hand comes to rest on your arm, the comforting gesture does little to calm your nerves when the worry in his eyes shines as bright as the human world sun. "Depending on many factors, potions can affect individuals differently. As an angel, this twisted love potion may be much more potent on Simeon than it was on any of the Demons. I advise you to be on your guard when confronting him."

"So the kiss may not work at all?" you ask, trying your best to remain calm, but the slight tremor in your voice betrays you.

He shakes his head, "I'm afraid that's the case." His eyes fill with concern as they flick to the window. "I wonder if I should head back to the lab to try and create an antidote, in case you were to, to."

"In case I fail," you say dryly, understanding the severity of the situation. "But there still is a chance that I can help him, so I'm gonna take it. You should go back to Purgatory Hall; Luke should be…~"

Crap

For the first time in hours, you remember that you did not start this quest on your own. Poor Luke must be freaking out all by himself. You were supposed to check in with the angel, but after your DDD was waterlogged, thanks to Levi, you haven't been able to contact him at all. 

"What's the matter Mc?" Solomon asks gently, grabbing ahold of your arm. The warmth radiating from his fingertips brings you back down to earth. "You look like you've seen a ghost. 

"It's Luke," you answer, guilt flooding your features at just the mention of the little helper's name. "I was supposed to call him and check in while he has been working on the antidote but I couldn't. Do you have your DDD on you by chance?"

"Do I?" He furrows his brows and pats his pockets. Finding nothing, he frowns. "Sorry, I must've left it in the Banquet Hall. I recall having it when I arrived, but after everything that happened, I must've forgotten to pick it up."

You frown. Just standing around is wasting precious time, but you dread the words that are about to leave your lips. "You should head back. Get the others up to speed and check up on Luke for me, okay?"

"I don't want to leave you," he says; the fire in his eyes tells you that he means it with every fiber of his being. "Not when things are the way they are. 

"Technically, I should be the safest out of everyone." you mention, "At least we know what Simeon wants with me; if one of you guys ran into him, it could be a different story."

The determination on your features draws a long sigh from Solomon, one that really reveals his age. "Are you really okay with trying to find him on your own?"

You nod, giving him what you believe to be a convincing smile. "There is still a possibility that I can break the spell on my own. But if I can't, I promise I will call for help. 

"If that's what you think is best," he sighs, "But I can't say I'm happy with this arrangement."

"I know you aren't," you say quickly.  "But thank you for going along with my plan."

Before he turns to go, he grabs your hand and looks deep into your eyes. "Please be careful, Mc. He may look the same, but that is not the Simeon you know. If things get dicey, just call for me. Please, Mc, promise me you won't try to be a hero and do this on your own. None of us would be able to handle it if something were to happen to you. I wouldn't be able to handle it if you got hurt."

"I promise. I'll be careful," you say solemnly and he shoots you one last glance, begging for you to change your mind before he turns and leaves through a door. 

The feeling of loneliness comes quickly; all of your senses feel as if they have been heightened by your current fear. Every shadow that passes you resembles a hand ready to pull you into the darkness, and now you really want to go home. 

Where could Simeon be?

The Library?

The Botanical gardens?

The Bathroom?

With the thousands of hiding spots in front of you, you can't help but feel a tad overwhelmed. Your heart rate rises and the stone pattern on the tiles blur under your overwhelmed gaze. You stumble slightly over a divot in the hall and reach out to a long end table to steady yourself. 

The porcelain vase rattles but, thankfully, doesn't come crashing down. 

Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, a low laughter reaches your ears, and you turn your end to the wall of shadows at the end of the hallway.

Ah, alone at last Mc," Simeon coo's stepping out from behind a pillar, brilliant white wings out on display as he takes you in with dark eyes. "You have no idea what kinds of fun I have planned for the two of us now that I have you all to myself. His usual angelic aura is replaced with one that is dark and menacing; against your better judgment, you are hit with an incapacitating wave of fear. 

All it takes is one single step toward you for your courage to falter as one thought races through your mind on loop.

This isn't Simeon…

You turn and run.

~

At long last, Luke has done it…he thinks. 

The Lab smells of black licorice and garlic as the angel's slightly elongated reflection stares back at him as he gazes into the Deep lavender concoction that is supposed to solve everything. This cure should make everyone stop acting so scary, and you can still have the Valentine's Day party you deserve. 

But something feels wrong. 

You haven't messaged him once through this whole process. Every time Luke stares at his empty inbox, his heart breaks a bit more as he imagines those obsessive demons taking you away forever. 

Simeon'

What is going on over there?

Unable to wait any longer for the potion to cool, Luke takes it off its burner. The vial is painfully hot in his hands, but he doesn't let go as he puts a cork in it and runs out of the Lab in a flash. 

The sudden burst of cold air in his lungs makes the little angel struggle to breathe, but he keeps running. The taller demons he passes on the street give him odd looks as he passes, but he doesn't have time to care. 

Keeping his eyes trained on the wet ground below, he doesn't see the large man-shark demon stepping into his path until he makes contact with his slick, gray skin. Being much lighter than that massive demon, Luke bounces off of him and hits the ground hard. 

His knees sting as they scrape the ground and turn an angry red color, but as he struggles to regain his breath, all he can think of is the potion. 

Did he break it?

"Hey, little guy?" the demon he had crashed into earlier says, holding out a fin. "Are you okay? That was quite the spill."

Luke takes the fin and gets to his feet. He holds the antidote a bit closer to his chest. "I'm fine, I'm really sorry for running into you, but I have to go."

"It's cool, I get it." the demon says, smiling with his rows and rows and rows of jagged teeth. "Have a good one."

Luke nods and starts to run once more. His stomach twists and turns as he thinks of Simeon, of Barbatos, of you. 

While his tired, little mind may be making him think the worst, he has this strange feeling that you are in trouble. 

Simeon~

You're in trouble. 

Out of breath, you find yourself in the middle of the empty ballroom. The crystal chandelier gleams in the moonlight as a few white feathers float gently to the ground, each one casting a new shadow in Simeon's image. 

He's toying with you. 

"Are you done running?" His voice echoes through the darkness. "You must be tired, poor thing, won't you come here?" his tone is soft, angelic, and it brings tears to your eyes as you fight your natural instinct to run into his arms. 

Although you cannot see him, you can feel his presence, he isn't just watching you at this point, he's hunting you. The intense power radiating from the darkness causes your knees to tremble as you stumble over to the wall. Your body feels far weaker than normal, but your mind is still sharp. 

The potion is clearly still effective on him, so it could be entirely possible that he truly is as possessive as the others claimed he was. Meaning, you can use it to your advantage. 

"Simeon, c-could you please come out here?" you call, forcing your voice to waver a bit more than necessary to lure him out.  "Please, I got rid of the others, so It's just us. I-i want to spend my Valentine's Day with you."

You pause, awaiting his response, but get nothing. If your angel heard you, he doesn't seem to be taking the bait. Squinting through the room, you search for any sign of motion finding nothing. 

Walking over to the partially drawn curtains, your fingers close around the thick woven cord and give it a light tug. A bit more moonlight would make your search for Simeon a bit easier, but you find it doesn't budge. 

Gritting your teeth, you pull at it again and again, until the velvet drapery slides, revealing a disheveled Simeon who greets you with a manic grin. 

"You've done well my darling." he coo's those bright, beautiful blue eyes of his practically concealed by those enlarged hearts. "You found what was behind curtain number one."

His skin feels like it's on fire as his hand latches around your wrist. You gasp at the sensation and instinctively try to step away, but he doesn't let you. 

You are enveloped in his steaming embrace as he nuzzles his face into your hair. The faint glow of his wings illuminates the room as his feathers cocoon you. Despite the circumstances, you relax under his familiar touch. "Please don't be afraid of me." he murmurs, his voice soft and genuine as he tries to comfort you.

"I'm not afraid of you Simeon," you answer truthfully, "I could never be afraid of you. Today has just been difficult."

"I know My Love," he says, smiling into your hair. There is something eerie in his tone that puts you on edge. "It must've been difficult playing this little game of hide and seek all by yourself, but you did it. You found everyone, Just like I thought you would."

As his words wash over you, your stomach sinks and you twist around to face him. "What are you talking about?"

He smiles as he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he eyes you with predatory hunger. "Did you have fun getting your special little moment with everyone else? Did you enjoy their pathetic displays of infatuation, picking off each lovesick fool one by one and sending them off with just a little kiss?"

The Venom in his words causes you to squirm in his hold. "You were watching me?"

"Since you stepped foot in this castle," he grins his nails gently tracing the side of your face. "But unlike those demons, I showed restraint and waited for them to get out of the way. Like always, they were too greedy to focus on the big picture."

Perhaps it's the unusual bout of exhaustion you are feeling, but you're having trouble seeing what Simeon is referring to as the 'big picture' as well. "And what would that be?" You ask carefully.

"Before now, I was always the one to make sacrifices when it came to spending time with you. Whenever I try, you always get taken away from me to either play peacemaker to those selfish demons when they cause problems they lack the mental fortitude to fix themselves, get treated like one of Solomon's little lab rats, or play babysitter to Luke, who is afraid of his own shadow." He is so vexed at the words spewing out of his mouth that his body temperature increases even higher than before, making this smothering contact stiflingly warm. 

There is real pain behind his harsh words, the kind that definitely could be exploited by a personality-altering Love Potion; your heart breaks for the neglected angel. "Simeon…"

"So you can see it too?"  I am done taking a backseat and watching everyone sweep you off your feet while I am obligated to give up my heart's desire." White feathers twitch as their owner stares down at you darkly. "So I will take you away and dedicate every waking moment of my life to keeping your content."

With wings like those, Simeon could easily carry you away from the Devildom, and judging from the look of desperation on his face, he is planning on doing just that. 

"Please listen to me," you plead, placing your hand on his chest; his heart is beating out of control, "It's the Love Potion talking; you don't really want to do this. Let me help you."

He looks as if you had just slapped him across the face. His emotions are going from one extreme to the other. "How can you say that, Mc? How can you say that I wouldn't want to be near you at all times?"

"I'm sorry, I just never saw things that way until now." you apologize softly. "I never realized how little time we get to spend together. But I would like to fix it if you would allow me to."

The hearts shrink in size as you gently cup his overheating face, his blush looks painfully deep as you press your lips to his, softly at first, but the kiss quickly turns desperate as you think of all the times Simeon has had to play the good sport. 

Although kindness is one of his best traits, you fell in Love with Simeon, not the worn doormat he perceives himself to be at the moment. You love his wit, his creativity, his warmth. 

You pour your affections into the kiss, but something feels off. 

Your body tingles as you feel your energy being drained from you at a rapid pace. Your arm becomes slack as it falls from Simeon's face and hangs limply.

Your eyes widen as you stare up at Simeon helplessly. A look of Victory on his face as he boops your nose. "Oh come on Darling; You're going to have to give me much more than that."

~

The doors to the banquet hall part for Solomon as he approaches, but as he sees the nine pairs of eyes on him, he wishes he could be anywhere else at the moment. When the awaiting demons realize it is just him, their eager, hopeful looks turn mostly cold and disinterested.

It stings. 

"Diavolo is the first to greet him with a warm smile as the Prince strides over and pats him on the back. "Solomon, I am relieved to see that you have come back to us in one piece~."

"Where's Mc?" Mammon says interrupting his monarch, earring a murderous glare from Barbatos and a thwack to the back of the head from Lucifer.

Exhaling, his thoughts return to you, "Mc…Stayed behind to find Simeon on their own. I offered to help but they felt it was best if they faced him alone. Given the circumstances."

Satan sits up straighter in his chair, "That appears to be the best course of action," he relents. "We all saw Simeon; I fear if he were to run into one of us, he might become violent. But he would never hurt Mc, potion or no potion."

Asmodeus, the only one of the Avatars of Sin Solomon has a pact with, narrows his eyes, and sends the Sorcerer an accusatory glare. "There's something you're not telling us Hon; what is it?"

Signing deeper, he internally curses the demon for seeing through him so quickly. "There is a chance Mc will not be able to break the spell on Simeon with just a kiss. I heard Luke is back at Purgatory Hall working on an antidote as we speak in case they were to fail."

The room goes deathly quiet as everyone recalls Simeon's deranged promises from earlier. If you are at his mercy with no way of breaking the spell, he may have the upperhand and escape the Devildom with you. 

"That is serious," Diavolo frowns, addressing the room, "We must find them and restrain Simeon before he does anything he'll regret. Mc's safety takes priority right now."

"Something's wrong," Lucifer says from his seat. "I'm having trouble detecting Mc's presence."

"Has the Dark Angel made his move already?" Levi shudders. 

"Did you really give Simeon a nickname at a time like this?" Belphie asks, looking rather irritated. "I'm tired of waiting around while Mc is in danger."

Tired

That one little word causes Solomon's eye to widen as the passage of potion side effects flashes through his mind. 

"I know that look," Barbatos says wearily. "What are you thinking about?"

"I think," he says, his mouth bone dry as he speaks. "We need to go find Mc, right now."

Simeon II ~

"Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Mc? Did you really think that I would just throw away the chance to keep you all to myself because of a little kiss?" He asks, his hand rising to gently stroke your cheek, forcing you to stare into his unnerving heart-shaped pupils. The hearts are dilating and constricting so rapidly they look as if they are beating. "I want more…"

"What's going on?" you breathe as Simeon holds your numb body like you're a porcelain doll. "Simeon, why can't I move?"

"Don't worry My Darling. It's not permanent, but this does make our dramatic escape a bit easier for me." He smiles, pressing another kiss onto your forehead as if he is mocking your earlier attempt of breaking the spell. Upon seeing your frightened features, he gently bushes a few strands of hair from your face. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Mc; my heart won't be able to take it."

"What did you do?"

His smile grows wider, "I didn't do anything. The one responsible for the little state of exhaustion you find yourself in, is you."

"Wha~"

"My selfless little love, did you not realize that with each kiss you gave to break the spell, you have been draining your energy?" he asks amusedly. "Or did you believe you were tired from walking all this time?"

"You're right," you say after a moment of contemplation. You have felt the tug of exhaustion but never even considered that breaking the spell would have an effect on you. You really thought you were feeling the effects of stress or not drinking enough water. "But how did you know?"

"Because I see you, Mc," he coos, "The others, time and time again, take advantage of that big, beautiful heart of yours. Let me help you. Let me take you away from all of this so I can worship you the way you deserve to be. Every day will feel like heaven; I will dedicate every waking moment to your rapture; you will be so content, you will never long for anyone else, only me."

He steps closer to the balcony doors as you scream at your tired limbs to move. Your Fingertips twitch slightly, but it's not enough. You need to buy yourself some more time. "Simeon, we can't do this. We can't just leave behind everyone else."

He stops in his tracks, "You don't love me?" he asks, his voice tender with emotion as hurt fills his bewitched eyes. The hearts have stopped beating, but yours aches at the accusation. 

"Of course I love you Simeon," you say quickly, the wide, lovesick grin returning to his face at your words. "But I am happy here, and I know you are too. The other~"

"Will never stop using you," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off of you. "Aren't you tired Mc? Every day, you get thrown into the path of danger. And have to be the one to fix it. I saw what Leviathan did to you. I was this close to stepping in and striking him down, but then you broke the spell, And he was back to his pathetic self."

"That was an accident, he wasn't in control of his own actions." You say, coming to the thirdborn's defense. "But I still care about him."

"The others are not different, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Solomon. Their Love does not even compare to what I feel for you." Tears well in Simeon's eyes as he shakes. These words coming out of his mouth are so unkind; there is no way Simeon would say these things about his friends, his former brothers, and Luke, the one who looks up to him like an older brother.

"What about the Love you have for them? These are your friends, your family. How can you turn on them so easily?" 

"Because you are~" he pauses, furrowing his brow as he tries to remain focused on his words, on his obsession. It seems that the real Simeon is fighting below the surface, trying to break out of the enchantment. "You are everything to me, the only Love I need. And I will do whatever I can to keep you safe."

He starts to walk out the balcony doors. The cold air makes you shiver as your stomach sinks in despair. You can't fail, not now. 

"Simeon, I can't let you do this." 

With your remaining energy you reach up to grab his face, kissing him once more, pouring not just your Love into the action, but everything else you possess. With Simeon fighting the battle on the inside, the two of your souls meet at the impact point.

Your muscles go slack as you and Simeon drop to the floor, exhausted. Your lids are heavy as you watch him blink away the hearts in his eyes. 

With the fog cleared, he stares down at your weakened form with fear. "Mc? What happened? What did I do?"

"You're back. I'm so relieved." you murmur before you lose consciousness. 

~

Simeon holds you gently, real tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobs out quiet apologies for only you to hear. Although the details come back to him slowly, he knows that he is the one to blame for the state you are in. Alive, but completely drained of energy.

He had brought you back inside from the chilly balcony, allowing his wings to disappear. He does not feel very much like an Angel right now.

A stampede of footsteps approaches and he tenses up, waiting for the consequences of his actions to tear him apart. 

~

Being completely drained of energy is a weird sensation. 

You aren't unconscious, but you aren't quite with everyone. Many concerned voices come through your ears, muffled, as if your ears have been stuffed with cotton. 

Mammon, as the fastest of the bunch, was the first to come to your side. You recall him sliding across the marble floor, stealing you away from Simeon's trembling arms, trying desperately to shake you awake. 

"Why aren't they waking up?" he mumbles, his tone worried, yet angry, and you know he is looking at Simeon.

"They used all their energy," another voice, Solomon, says plainly. "It was a side effect from breaking the spell we were under. I didn't put two and two together at the time, but Mc gave us each a bit of their energy with their kiss."

"I see," Barbatos muses "So that was what was bothering you Solomon."

You feel your body taken carefully from Mammon's arms as you are cradled against a broad chest. Diavolo's voice is comforting in your ear as he whispers. "You did well, Mc; once again, the Devildom is in your debt." his warm power courses through you as you begin to recover a part of your strength. 

"But when will they wake up?" Beel asks worriedly. "They need to eat if they want to restore their strength."

"Maybe we should let them sleep," Belphie hums. "That always makes me feel better."

"Yer always sleeping," Mammon sighs. 

"I'm awake." You mutter weakly, opening your eyes. You are completely surrounded by your loved ones, the nine demons and the Sorcerer look weary but relieved to see you awake.

"You did it, Hon." Asmo smiles, smoothing your messed up hair. "You saved us all."

"And I'm sure I've never looked better," you quip, earning a warm chuckle from Diavolo and the others, but you notice something just out of the corner of your eye. "Oh Simeon.."

Simeon watches you from afar, still on the floor. When he notices you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze, ashamed of his actions under the spell.

Seeing him like this breaks your heart. Sensing your distress, Lucifer breaks away from the group. You watch as he walks over to Simeon and extends a hand to his former brother. "Come on," he says, "Mc should spend the rest of the day with everyone they care about." 

You nod encouragingly to Diavolo to set you down as Simeon takes Lucifer's hand, getting slowly to his feet. His steps are small as he approaches. "How are you feeling?" he asks softly. 

You wrap your arms around him, and he relaxes under your gentle touch. "A little tired, but I'm glad that everything is back to normal."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that. But words cannot express how sorry I am for putting you through all that." he begins, this time looking around at everyone. "The potion seemed to feed on my inner insecurities, twisting my desires and taking control of my body, please believe me that the words I was saying were not entirely my own."

"I am sure we all said things we didn't mean," Diavolo shudders, recalling his earlier behavior, "But I promise you that no one here is at liberty to pass judgment.

"Even so, you were an amazing Final Boss Simeon." Levi gushes, the respect he has for his idol not diminished in the slightest.

"Oh, well thank you Leviatan." Simeon replies. "Perhaps this will make for an entertaining plot in my next novel. Perhaps you could assist me with the details."

Levi looks so overjoyed he is about to faint, so you step in, taking Simeon's hand and giving it a squeeze, "I'm just glad we are all together now."

"Does that mean we can get back to the feast?" Beel asks hopefully. "I'm starving."

"What else is new?" Satan sighs, turning his attention to you. "You had us worried, you have to stop doing that."

"Speaking of worried." Barbatos adds with a frown. "Where is Luke?"

"Oh my," Solomon pales. "In the excitement, I forgot to contact him when I arrived at the banquet hall. Should I go find him and tell him that the spell has broken?"

"Poor Chihuahua, he must be freakin out right now." Mammon sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

"Perhaps you should go get him, Mammon," Lucifer says. 

"I'm here," a small voice calls, pushing through the doors. 

Luke pants hunched over, holding a small glass vial close to his chest. "I got the antidote."

"You created an antidote all by yourself?" Simeon asks, coming over to crouch next to his out-of-breath companion. "I am so proud of you, Luke."

"Me too," you hum, coming to the other side of him. 

He preens under your praise but looks around the room, counting each individual with a frown. "Wait… Is everyone back to normal? What did I miss?"

The room falls silent as everyone glances at each other awkwardly, not wanting to discuss the more intimate details of your afternoon with the Little Angel. 

"Mc was able to break the spell," Babatos answers simply. "But your alchemic success will not go unnoticed, I'll see to it that you receive extra credit in your chemistry class."

Luke's cheeks burn crimson at Barbatos' compliment. "R-really?"

"Absolutely, you did well Luke," you say kindly. "But I am sorry for not contacting you, I fell into the pool and my DDD was ruined."

"My bad," Levi mutters, his face turning redder than Lukes. 

Diavolo, being the diplomat he is, claps his hands together. "Since we are all together now, I saw we all return to the banquet hall and enjoy the rest of the party. I believe Mc would enjoy some rest and refreshments."

"No more cookies though," Asmodues chuckles, sending you a playful wink. "I don't think Mc could handle any more excitement today."

"I'll dispose of them personally when we get back to the banquet hall," Lucifer promises you, placing his hand on your lower back, "But I will make sure to reward you for your efforts when you regain your strength."

"Hey, stop flirtin' with 'em, Lucifer," Mammon grumbles, yanking you away from the firstborn. "They've had enough of that today."

Mephisto (Bonus) ~

Although the President of the RAD Newspaper Club heard that today, Lord Diavolo had thrown together a private celebration in your honor and canceled his many appointments, he still decided to stop by the castle.

There is a large, elegantly wrapped present in his hands as he walks eagerly toward the banquet hall. Imagining the look of surprise on your face when you see that he has brought you some of your favorite gifts. 

Presenting you with such a gift would surely make the Noble Demon look better in the eyes of his Prince. 

It certainly isn't because he has feelings for you or anything like that. 

It's just politics… or so he tells himself. 

Checking his reflection in the hallway mirror just outside of the banquet hall. He readjusts his tie and smoothes out his hair, making it look just so.

With no attendants on duty, the doors open for him, magically revealing, much to his disappointment, an empty room. 

'Where is everyone?' he murmurs, scanning the room. The tables are filled with food, and there is a large, unopened pile of gifts by the fireplace, but none of the attendees are around to enjoy them. 

The dark hum of magic fills the room causing the demon to turn to the end table, where a small plate of heart-shaped cookies sits innocently seeingly appeared out of thin air. 

"Strange," he says to himself observing the platter. The warm smell tantalizes his nose, and he is reminded of the sweet vanilla fragrance you wore to the ball the other night. "I wonder…"

He looks around sheepishly, hoping no one observes his little lapse in self-control. He had been taught by his governess from a young age that it is rude to take food from a gathering he wasn't invited to. 

But he can't help it. 

Raising the cookie to his lips, he takes a bite.

Tagging; @pixelcafe-network

[rubykgrant]

The big-jacket looks so cute on her!

I had to draw-over the original image and do a re-design real quick, because when I first saw her new look, there was a few things I liked, but it also felt like it wasn't quite ENOUGH, and also reminded me of stuff I wish had been going with Rose and Juleka's designs from the beginning (I don't have the energy to draw Juleka right now... also, I'm not drawing-over the new Pigella pose, I did the one for Rose, so that's gonna be both of them). I used to imagine that it would be really fun if Rose and Juleka both sort of had an opposite/matching theme going on, with different combinations of pretty/punk styles (Juleka has longer hair, and darker clothing. Rose has short hair, and wears brighter colors). Also, together they make the lesbian flag, with Rose having more summer/warm tones in her outfit, switching to a cooler/vibrant pink as a hero. Juleka has more of the purples, and as a hero, her colors are a warmer-magenta. For the actual season 6 look, I loved that her hair is a shorter pixie, and the little hair-tie is so cute, but it just made me wish it was part of her hero costume (like piggy ears, instead literal pigtails/animal ears poking out). I decided to spike her hair up a bit, and it comes down in a curl as Pigella. I do like the rose-petal skirt, but I thought maybe making it really frilly will match with her hero form a little TOO, so I gave her a long sailor-style shirt with stripped sleeves (and a front pocket like a hoodie), a pleated skirt (she can be a little Sailor Moon, as a treat), dark tights, and sneakers. I know the Pig Miraculous is an anklet, but I liked the idea of it being hidden on her wrist with lots of other bracelets in her regular outfit. She also has a rose hairclip on one side. The Pigella outfit is just full-throttle princess girly-girl. I don't usually lean into that, but what the heck, she can have fun with it. I also decided she should have glasses, for the "rose colored glasses" pun, and then as Pigella, they turn to heart-shapes with a dark spot to match Daizzy. The new official Pigella has curly ribbons to be like a curly pig's tail, and that works fine. I could have maybe added more/adjusted certain things, but I didn't want it to be crazy complicated

Please fix her! Redesign her look! I love your designs for the MLB characters then in the show!

(I assume you meant Rose) I think my problem is that your reaction will differ depending on how close to the screen she is - her super light blonde eyebrows, near disappearing nose (in the opening's lighting), and stark makeup make for this wide eyed stare down that makes me feel like prey.

Also I had a problem with the mixing of warm and cool pinks from Season 1-5 so I hate that it's prominent in the new skirt. And is she wearing silver leggings with knee high socks?!

Personally, I don't hate her hair getting even shorter and I even agree with the bow to balance her out so she's not bottom heavy in the design. IMO if you're gonna mix feminine with sporty, go full out - combining a Varsity Jacket and "athletic" socks with a super feminine, sparkly dress is right out of Rainbow High's book and I love it for Rose.

I know the animation has it's own limits and maybe that's why the clothing choices are so close to the body, so I'm not trying to make shots at that. But I have no such limits, so I'm putting the tiny girl in a massive jacket. For fun.

[yanderes-galore]

Venom won the fic poll so here's my attempt at writing him... them...? Sorry the second half is rushed... I honestly didn't have a plot in mind and just... let my mind wander.

I want to write Loki, Moon Knight, and Doctor Strange at some point for Marvel Rivals... but I'll be spacing out any other personal fics I do between requests. Like a little treat for my brain rot.

Lethal Protector

Yandere! Venom (Marvel Rivals) Oneshot

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Kidnapping, Restraints, Clingy behavior, Dubious turned forced companionship/relationship.

No matter the universe, it's hard to get used to Venom. Symbiotes have always been seen as monsters, especially in this timeline displacement event. However... this version of Venom, is one of the only ones where he's become a hero.

Eddie and Venom are one being now. They are Venom and have pushed aside their desire to consume others. For the most part, at least....

They claim they're a hero now, a protector trying to fix the crumbling multiverse that threatens to harm you all. You have even gotten involved due to your timeline merging with all the others. Encountering Venom was a concerning meeting at first...

But you'll take any help you can get.

You already have enough to deal with. You're meeting people you thought you knew only to find out they're from a different universe at a completely different time. There's two Dr. Dooms fighting, Hydra's in contact with eldritch beings, Knull is waking up, Bast is corrupted, Loki's taken over, Dracula...

You had your hands full enough as is.

When you met Venom, like many of the other familiar faces you witnessed, you were tired. Like everyone you're struggling to find a way to stop all this warring. Dealing with a symbiote was the last thing on your list....

Yet... Venom wasn't your typical ball of alien goop. They have a host and are in sync with them relatively well. You had first encountered the beast on Klyntar in an attempt to help the Guardians get Knull under control.

Like most of the wildlife on this planet, you expected Venom to attack you.

They never did, in fact...

You caught the symbiote defending you from another of its kind.

Since then you accepted the symbiote around you. As long as the beast doesn't try to eat your face, you'll accept teaming up. Speaking with the beast even allowed you to learn more about them.

The host was named Eddie. Together with the symbiote they were Venom. While once a beast that tormented Spider-Man in their universe... their connection with Knull was severed then. This lead to some... individuality.

Venom was now considered a lethal protector. Lethal you could see from just looking at them. Although, protector...?

That was a new sight to you.

You had partnered with Venom across various new locations with many different faces. You never bothered considering them a threat. After all, there were worse things to consider.

It also meant you never quite had enough time to process the changes in Venom's behavior around you.

It was hard to tell when the beast was extra ruthless. While intelligent, Venom acted like a towering guard dog around you. Many other faces you've met tended to comment on how insistent Venom is around you.

Even Spider-Man, someone who's used to Venom chasing him down, asked how you managed to 'tame the beast'.

You don't really know how yourself. You simply fought alongside the beast at Klyntar. Ever since then, the beast has followed you around.

Downtime is something you cherish in times like this. It doesn't even seem like you can get that alone anymore. Not that you really want to be alone in the places you find yourself in....

You quietly sit down in a place so familiar to your own world... yet altered. It's all uncanny to you as you try to remember what home was. Before you can, a large presence slams beside you, startling your thoughts before it comes crawling over.

"We wish to know why you are so quiet?" The beast hisses, settling behind you. You feel the protoplasm of the beast shift beside you as Venom looks down at you. You sigh, calming the tension in your body.

"I just... miss home. I see so many traces of it yet it's never the same." You admit, glancing at Venom. "I'm tired of being in danger all the time... I don't want to be alone."

"You don't wish to be alone?" The beast echoes as though trying to understand your conflict. You nod quietly, exhausted.

"I never know who's friend and who's foe. Everything's all messed up and I don't know who I can trust!" You admit, barely picking up the subtle way the beast shifts closer to you.

"Do you trust us?" The creature hisses, studying you. "We wish to trust you."

"I..." You hesitate, having trouble looking into the milky white eyes of the symbiote. "Yes, Venom. I trust you. You... haven't eaten my brain yet, at least."

"We do not plan to eat your brain." Venom growls as if offended by the idea. "You are much too..."

A brief pause is heard and you tilt your head. You weren't expecting them to hesitate as they look at you.

"... You are... inedible. We cannot eat you. We do not wish to." Venom manages to respond. You can't tell if you're offended or not until the beast shifts closer, black body sticking to your clothes.

"We only wish to protect you. Won't you let us? We are friend... You may trust us." Venom hisses, tongue lashing as they press closer.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, you can protect me... Just... stop touching me?" You ask, pressing against Venom's chest with a hand. You immediately grimace as the black goop nearly envelops you. The beast the chuckles a growl, nodding before pulling back.

"Fine... We will give you space." The beast grins, "For now."

Protection. Trust. You didn't expect that to be a slippery slope. With how Venom stuck around you, you didn't think he'd do anything... wrong.

You underestimated Venom's words, it seems...

After all... You said you couldn't trust ANYONE, right?

....

A slimy appendage swipes across your face as you wake from your temporary slumber. The smell of something wet and metallic tingles in your nostrils as you sit up. At least... You try.

Yet the beast's black tendrils tighten on your body, large white eyes staring down at you.

You struggle to remember what happened. Your head hurts and you keep feeling something wet hit your face. After that... It doesn't take long for you to realize a tongue is hitting your face.

You struggle immediately, the beast above you growling as it tightens its hold. You can now see it's Venom who is holding you hostage once your vision returns. You struggle... but the sticky symbiote won't let you go.

"Venom, What the hell—?" You freeze when you look around yourself. The area around you stunk of blood. Traces of the red substance covered the area as you pull at Venom's hold.

You smell it on them too, the stench making you freeze on the spot.

"Scared? We took care of it. You were in danger. Danger's gone now." Venom answers in a matter of fact tone.

"Danger...? What danger? Danger where?" You try to ask, Venom choosing to nuzzle your head instead of answering.

"Gone. Danger is gone. We said we will keep you safe." Venom answers, licking their teeth as they hold you in their claws and tendrils.

You look around to see where Venom brought you. It's an alternate version of your home, you can tell that much. It looks so different... especially with the amount of blood splashed across the ground.

"... Who did you hurt, Venom...?" You force yourself to ask, heart racing.

"Who does not matter. We got rid of the danger." Venom responds simply. "We brought you home, too."

"Venom—!"

"You said no one is trustworthy but us." Venom growls, "Why do you care? We are the only ones worthy of working with you."

"Let me go, now, I can't—!" You plead, only for Venom to roar and pin you. You feel yourself stuck on the bloodied floor, four sets of claws pinned beside you while symbiote tendrils coil around your midsection.

"We will not be letting you go just to see you nearly get killed again!" The beast roars on top of you, tightening their hold. "We plan to keep our promise. You said you miss your friends... You said you miss home. We're meant to be your friend, we took you home!"

The hold is tighter, suffocating, yet oddly comforting despite the gooey texture and uncanny environment.

"We shall be your friend. We shall be your home. We... shall be yours." Venom growls, tongue dripping with saliva as they stare you down.

"You... shall be ours."

Venom was not the threat you expected to be your downfall in this multiversal problem. Many who were dragged into this may very well die. Naively... You wished Venom would've focused more on the big picture.

Instead, to Venom, there was only one goal that mattered to them now more than home...

That goal was keeping you all for themselves, for protection... at least, you can only hope that's why.

[yv0nn1e]

"we were born to a world with dead ends."

gravity — rafayel

summary: to be betrayed in one timeline, to find out the truth in another, and now, to seek revenge in the current.

pairing: rafayel x non!mc fem!reader

cw/tw: angst? mean reader, some twists from the myths and the actual lore itself.

note: an alternate version of my backburner rafayel fic where instead of falling in love with rafayel, reader gets angry when she realizes lemuria's fall is actually because of rafayel.

word count: 2k+

non!mc reader who remembers the excruciating pain of losing her life in every single timeline where rafayel was involved.

non!mc reader who, in the current timeline and at eleven years old, starts to get flashbacks of her past lives, not knowing what they were until the memories fill each other in as she matures. the older she gets, the more refined those visions become, until she reaches the age of fifteen where a rough vision of rafayel, her beloved, gives up his heart, and lemuria for this strange yet certainly unforgettable girl. non!mc reader who, realizes that she might have died at rafayel's hands— that lemuria fell under rafayel's sacrifice and love.

non!mc reader who, at fifteen, decides to walk away from the sea and from her dearest friend who, she now knows, had betrayed their people in their past lives. she goes to land with her aunt, finding solace in her passion for acting and the dramatics. rafayel had tried to stop her, or at least, get him to accompany her yet he could never forget the underlying anger that had filtered her eyes.

"you're really leaving? but why?" rafayel asked. he wasn't sad, not exactly. perhaps just a tad bit melancholy at the thought of his truest friend walking away, leaving him all alone to face the pressure of the sands and seas all by himself.

"i can't achieve anything here." she replies, the duality of the meaning behind her words floating above rafayel's head. she can't achieve anything if she stays right where she had always been after all these years, after all these lives: right next to rafayel. she will be bound to the same ending if she stayed any longer.

they bid each other goodbye, and non!mc reader was more than ready to start a new life. perhaps, if she stayed away from rafayel, if she had stayed away from lemuria, then she cannot befall the same painful fate that she would during her previous lives.

non!mc reader who physically and internally experiences the actual pain of the lemurians' sufferings in her past lives whenever she would get a vision despite the fact that she had already stirred far far away from the sea.

her aunt talia looks at her worryingly as non!mc reader sits on the plush of the luxurious couch, her hand in her chest as she took in deep breathes— each and every inhale activating that painful tightening in her chest, the same sensation of internal stabbing.

"did you get another vision?" talia asks, her soft and delicate fingers rubbing non!mc reader's back. the girl could only nod as she takes one last deep breath before slumping her back towards the headboard of the couch.

"how much longer will i have to endure this? do you even get visions like mine too?" non!mc reader chokes out as she takes a glass of water. her aunt talia visited her on set today. it had been long since non!mc reader had decided to live above water and join the humans. she's an adult now, in her twenties, and a successful young actress at that.

"dearest, you know i don't. we've spoken about this. you're— you're different." talia says in a hesitant tone. these two have tried to figure out the root of non!mc reader's visions, how do they happen, and why they're happening in the first place. but nothing. they have nothing. the only thing they were certain about was the fact that the visions are highly implied to be true. the tales and myths about lemuria align with the visons and flashes.

"perhaps, there is a reason that you, out of everyone, has been bestowed such gift." talia comforts, a gentle pat glides over non!mc reader's shoulder blades.

she could only scoff. "this is no gift. this is a curse."

non!mc reader who falls into shock as she stumbles upon a familiar purple set of hair on a tall figure during a banquet. could it really be— "yn!" her name rolls off his tongue so softly, gently. all so familiar and nostalgic that for a second, non!mc reader forgets that the man whom her love transcended one life over another for had been the cause of her impending doom.

"rafayel?" she minds his presence. he looked a lot older than she'd last seen him. he was a lot taller, his lean figure built stronger with grown muscles, his aura being more elegant and confident. and yet, she questions whether or not he had changed. "what are you— why are you here?"

he tells her that he's settling in linkon for a while. he says that he's got a lot of business advocates and opportunities to stumble upon the city as he pursues his artist career. he then reveals to her that he too had left the sea not long after she had gone, saying something about how the sea's weight felt a little too heavy under ground.

"does it really get easier up above the water?" she throws the question out rhetorically as they find themselves in a secluded seating area of the banquet.

rafayel wasn't dumb. surely, he felt the venomous tone in her voice or the unwelcoming glare from her gaze. he wishes it would be his mind playing tricks on him but the more he stares deeply into her eyes, the more he feels as though something was not right between him and his dearest friend.

"i don't really think so." he replies to her rhetorical question.

one thing about non!mc reader is that she isn't entirely certain that her snarky remark wasn't applicable to her. over the years, she often doubts whether or not trying to escape her home was better for her.

the both of them stare at each other. one pair of eyes gazing at the other's figure filled with confusion and nostalgia. wondering where he went wrong or if he had done something wrong. the other set of eyes staring in regret, unsure of whether or not joy or anger should control her thinking as of the moment.

the silence was louder than ever, until it was interrupted with that even louder ringing in non!mc reader's ears, that stabbing pain becoming stronger— probably the strongest she's ever felt as every fiber of her being was aching.

and yet she was too stubborn to let a slither of her vulnerability and truth slip past the cracks of her facade.

"i have to go." she tries to say confidently or rather, in a more composed way as she stood up, grabbing her purse and clenching her chest with her free hand which earned her a concerned and confused gaze in rafayel's face.

"are you okay? i can take you—"

"im fine, rafayel." she insists, pushing past him as he stood up to reach her.

"it was certainly something to see you again." she coughs out a fake scoff as she takes one step forward, only for a gasp to slip past her lips when her ankles bend, cause her whole body to not only pulse in excruciating pain, but to fall.

she feels the pain take her away from consciousness, a flash of white turning into a silhouette of a younger boy, his hair the same shade of violet as rafayel's, his voice more playful, as the image of her childhood in the prosperous kingdom of lemuria in a previous life takes place in her mind for a while, but the realization did not go unnoticed.

no, it does not get easier above water. as long as gravity exists, the weight of the world will always pull you down to the ground where one must acknowledge the truth.

non!mc reader who realizes that the pain she feels whenever she gets visions started when she left the sea.

she finds herself waking up in a bed of soft silk and fluffy pillows. this wasn't her home, the ambiance was rather softer and cleaner as the sun's rays painted dawn against the windows.

"you're finally awake." she gets taken out of her trance as she turns her head to the doorway, a smiling rafayel leans against the frame of the door. "you good now? maybe next time, don't insist that you're fine when you're not."

"what?" she's confused. she's never passed out from a vision before. sure, at first the pain was unbearable, but years of endurance has built her some kind of immunity or rather, suppressants that makes the ache less painful.

"you had a really high fever last night. what's worse is that, the tides weren't even low. we don't usually get that sick but i guess you're just a bit helpless without me, yeah?" rafayel teases as he brings her a tray of food and medicine. she stares at him in awe, that buried affection for him attempting to break past the cracks, but she does not let it go.

non!mc reader starts to see clearer visions now that rafayel is back in her life. with the added age and maturity, the flashes are longer and less vague. so when the moment a full vision of what happened during the sea god's ceremony played, anger resurfaces her mind.

non!mc reader who swore to avenger herself and lemuria, her beloved land. which is why, when rafayel introduces his new bodyguard, she immediately knew that she was the sea god's bride. that rafayel's miss bodyguard had his heart. literally.

and if it was what's needed to restore lemuria, she would stop at nothing to have it in her hands.

non!mc reader who is staring as the main lead in a new linkon tv series that depicts a tale about an ancient underwater civilization called lemuria. she could only laugh hysterically at her role. was she really playing the role of the sea god's bride? the sole thing she could never be in whatever universe or timeline she was in? oh how destiny loved to mock her.

non!mc reader who asks rafayel for help, feigning vulnerability and saying that she needed his bodyguard too, saying something about her old bodyguard going away for a while, even offering to pay double what rafayel was paying her.

non!mc reader who takes this chance to let her suppressed anger over the centuries and lifetimes that have passed out. it started with complicated coffee orders to fetch then upgraded to delivering her wardrobe, only to accuse miss bodyguard of practically sullying the dress with her reckless actions. in general, just treating her like the worst. miss bodyguard could quit whenever she wanted but rafayel had asked her so persuasively to induldge in non!mc reader's request since she was one of his closest friends.

non!mc reader who gets attacked by one of her visions, the pain stronger than what she assumed was the strongest attack when she met rafayel in that banquet before. what's more severe was that she could practically feel and hear the screams in her more recent visions.

non!mc reader who is sick and tired of suffering the regrets of the past, tired of carrying the weight of a future that is clearly telling her to take responsibility. so, one day, she flat out says to rafayel to do something about lemuria. to take his heart back, to end his people's sufferings. and yet, rafayel, like in all those visions she would see and remember, only replied with the same thing: that there would be other ways.

non!mc reader who damns it all, never stopping at one ask to convince rafayel to take his heart back. every chance she could, she would try to bring it up with rafayel which results into the man questioning his bestfriend's eagerness. she wasn't usually like this. she was never this insistent. despite the rejections, non!mc reader is thankful that rafayel was asked to be an illustrator in her new project because it makes it easier for her to bother him to own up to his responsibilities.

yn lets out an exhausted sigh as she looks at herself in the mirror. this costume was ridiculous, she thinks, as she analyzes the decor of the dress— the director said it would be a close-to-accurate replica of lemurian bridal attires. her top, a delicate yet structured piece, bared her midriff, emphasizing her poise, while bands of gilded accents traced the contours of her shoulders and arms. a flowing sash, transparent like morning mist, hung from her waist, its shimmering fabric embellished with ornate patterns that mirrored ancient symbols of wisdom.

fuck, they were right. it was close to accurate. so much so that non!mc reader starts to pity herself, thinking that the only moment she would have gotten to dress up like a true lemurian bride would be in a show, a fictional, unrealistic series that depicts the story of her beloved and the other woman he had chosen and would choose in every other life.

she steps out of the dressing room, the staffs getting the scene ready as the director yelled out orders. rafayel was with his bodyguard in a corner, discussing with the other illustrators what to do or add into the scene to make it more vibrant.

"it's a wedding scene, it's supposed to be colorful." he rolls his eyes, his bodyguard chuckling in amusement at his sulking. non!mc reader wonders how the producers even got the rafayel to agree to being part of the project. initially, she would've thought that rafayel thinks they would sully the lemurian culture and tale itself and yet, here he was, ever so passionate in the intricate coloring of the set.

"honestly, these people look like they're trying to disrespect the lemurian legacy—" rafayel stops speaking as he turns around, only to be met with non!mc reader in that traditional wedding gown. she looked certainly beautiful in it, he could not deny that. in fact, it looked rather fitting on her, as if she was meant to wear it.

she was currently distracted, practicing her lines with her partner in the show so rafayel's gaze goes unnoticed.

non!mc reader who has to poorly go through a physical and actual demonstration of how the end of lemuria was met because of this stupid show that somehow, got every detail accurately correct.

the way her limbs trembled at the set, the lines, and the impending remembrance of what was to happen after the ceremonial scene in the story. her terror was so obvious that her stutter and shaking figure immediately warned the director and everyone else that something was wrong.

the recreating of the scene in a different perspective terrified her so much, the trauma of reliving that kind of pain and watching it replaying in her mind. the fear was strong enough to trigger another vision, clearer than ever.

"excuse me. i'll be back." she manages to speak, immediately running back to her dressing room to handle the pain all by herself.

non!mc reader who has never told rafayel about the visions. the only person who knew about them were talia and herself. so one could only imagine the feeling brewing in rafayel's guts when rushes to open the door of her dressing room, only to see the actual pain his yn has to go through. all alone. all by herself.

it only then hits him. this must be why she had been so insistent on taking his heart back. this must be why she had left. why she had been so distant— why she acted the way she did.

she was angry at him. albeit, she was literally hurting because of the actions, the bond, the devotion he had sacrificed and given away.

his beloved yn was suffering because of him.

in every universe, he would give his heart to his love, causing him the loss of his kingdom and his entire being. in every universe, non!mc reader has to endure the physical manifestation of the regressing feeling of neglect and abandonment from the one true person that holds her protection in his hands.

in every universe, they were always bound to be met with dead ends.

[justhereforsubsevika]

Sevika x Male reader

Just read it, I promise :)

You've been married a good long while. It was mainly an agreement made between your parents when you were little, a political arrangement deride of romance or attraction. That's not to say you weren't intensely attracted to your beautiful, albeit completely incidental, wife. She was a statue, a true creation of beauty. Those legs, thick with muscle, arms that flexed when ever she cooked you dinner.

She was the perfect little housewife, coming home from long days in Silco's office, or out in the streets, and immediately getting to cleaning and cooking. Humming little tunes under her breath, singing you to sleep when the day was done.

The one issue was your sex life.

She was perfectly pliant on your wedding night, smiling politely as you did what you wanted to her. She didn't seem to enjoy herself all that much but hey, it was your first time and women are difficult to please. When you asked her if she wanted you to try going down on her she had laughed, a twinge of nervousness behind her hearty chuckle, insisting it was okay, that she didn't need to cum.

Every time after that, you could tell sex was a chore for her. She'd even taken to responding to emails and editing documents on her phone when you fucked her, asking if you were done once you finished, rolling over and going to sleep.

You were glad when her behaviour shifted, when she realised she could watch certain things on her phone while you had your way with her. She even started toying with herself as she watched, making her all the more wet, so you didn't complain about her new habit.

One day you were sitting with her, pawing at her breasts over her top. She sighed before turning to you, small smile on her face. "Do what you want, just let me get my phone."

"Sev?" You called as she retrieved the device from her study.

"Yes, dear?"

"What do you watch? You know, when we-"

"Threesomes." Her eyes flicker with desire, something you've never had the privilege of seeing before. You feel yourself grow hard at the thought, having two girls for your pleasure.

"Would you want to try that out?" You say hopefully, growing bashful when Sevika chuckles and shakes her head.

"Yeah, I really really would."

*****

Sevika lets a beautiful girl into your home, introducing her to you as a name you swear feels familiar. She smiles as Sevika tends to, politely, smally. She has an air about her, like she's different from other women. You notice how she clings to Sevika's waist, scratching gently at the intents of her abs.

"This is the girl I was telling you about!" Sevika damn near cheers it, lifting the woman off the ground like she's some trophy. You nod. To be fair, she is stunning. You don't complain when Sevika confesses her eagerness to get started, you can't wait to have two girls at your mercy.

The women scurry into the bedroom, leaving you to catch up to them.

When you enter the bedroom you're shocked at the scene before you. Sevika's wearing a set you've never even seen in your shared wardrobe, shoving her tongue down this girl's throat like she's dying of thirst and the only solution is to drain her saliva. She's making noises you've never heard pass her lips, moaning like crazy, from a kiss.

You're even more surprised when Sevika pushes the girl down, hungrily sucking on her nipples, her fingers shoving their way down her panties. "Oh, fuck," the woman whispers, fluttering her eyes open.

She eyes you and you feel excitement wash over you. That is, until you see how she's looking at you. Like she's taunting you, like she knows some sick secret and she'll never let you in on it.

Sevika moves so rapidly, eyes flickering all over the other woman's body, breath ragged as she pulls down her thong. "Oh, baby," she cries, whines clawing out of her throat as she stares at the string of mess that clings from the girl's pussy to the fabric pulled around her thighs.

Sevika dives head-first into her pussy, crying out, bucking her hips into the bed. You feel embarrassed to watch your wife like this, knowing she's never, not once, been this enthused when you two had sex.

They're screaming, both of them, Sevika seemingly getting just as much pleasure as the girl she's desperately tonguing into.

You decide for yourself that this is ridiculous, that you guys agreed on a threesome, so fuck you if you weren't getting involved.

You clamber, quite clumsily may I add, onto the bed. You look at the way Sevika's ass is thrumming rhythmically into the mattress, accompanied by a throaty moan each time. You place a hand onto the curve of her ass, groaning a little at the feeling of twitching muscle under your palm but-

"GET OFF!" She roars, slamming her ass back so hard that the force sends you flying into the wall behind you.

You black out for fuck knows how long. It looks like a new day, and yeah... they're still going at it.

LMFAO yes this is inspired by that friends ep where ross and carol invite susan for a threesome and they end up fucking because its so funny

[dimmadoome]

To all my American friends,

What should you do if you find yourself in a rut thinking, how do I fix this?

You read.

Pick up a copy of 'The US Constitution and Other Writings' first and read through them. Make sure you know our bill of rights backwards, forwards and sideways. Make sure you understand how our system works. When new bills are proposed, read them. Read every single one of Trumps new executive orders. You have to know what they want to do so you can put together the pieces of the puzzle as to what is going to actually happen to you. The reason yall can get fear mongered so easily is because you don't know what they can and can not do to you. It seems like such a small thing to do. You might think you are a fighter, not an intellectual. You might believe that your talents are better suited somewhere else.

They aren't.

You can not take on the largest military in the world. Not head on and not even banded together. Even with every single gun toting redneck at your back, you can not and will not win.

What you do to fix the situation we are in is you learn how they are taking things from you and you work to combat that. Get out and vote. As proven by your unwillingness to vote in the last election, Voting does matter. It really, really does. Anyone who tells you any different is a russian spy and a maga shill. Your vote matters. Emd of story.

Our government isnt air tight, but it is so tied up in beurocracy that everything these fucks are planning to do WILL NOT HAPPEN QUICKLY. It will take them years to implement anything. Especially constitutional changes. If we can swing the house and senate blue the next two years, they will be blocked from doing the worst of the damage entirely. Remember the first Trump presidency? How we combated his bilullshit then? Our representatives and Congress people were somewhat democratic. Maybe, if yall actually tried, you could do it again.

I know, I know, the dems are shit, the dems are definitely in the oligarchs pocket. But they are to goddamned lazy and ineffectual to actually pull the trigger on fascism. And that is what you need. You need these people to be a place holder until you go out there, boots on the fucking ground, and get involved in your local politics. You get your people elected, then you keep moving them up until they become your representatives and congresspeople. YOU do the work.

A good place to start on that. Get to know the disabled folk in your community. They are forgotten but they ARENT stupid and they certainlyare worth the time and effort to bring to your side. They are the ones that need to have their voices heard. Imani, or Crutches and Spice as she is known, has already said this. That the right have been out there, talking to disabled folk. Making them feel seen and heard because the dems arent fucking doing it. And its working.

You guys know that we have to wrestle the government away from these fucks to actually win back our rights, right? You do realize that a fucking revolution is STILL not going to happen, right?

As a foray into my personal thoughts to end this one out. I think we need to abolish the Electoral college. We need to put term limits on supreme court justices, we need to make sure that We The People and not the presiden gets to elect them if they are making laws and we need to get rid of lobbying all together. If we can get just those four things gone within the next ten years, we might be able to swing our shit back around and have a good governmental basis to make the changes we need.

If yall are gonna be waffling around, asking for solutions. There. There are your solutions. I've given you solutions. Fucking take em.

TLDR: your first order of business is to stop expecting footnotes and start reading everything ya lazy fucks.

To my Asian, European, African, and Canadian friends...do y'all wanna know how the United States found itself under a fascist, Hitler-loving dictator named Donald Trump?

In another post, I started my timeline in 1980. The year I was born. But, it was also a turning point in US politics.

First, let me share my credentials.

- Bachelors of Arts - History

- Juris Doctor - Public Interest Law (Critical Race Theory)

- Masters of Philosophy (research degree) - Sociology (Race, Ethnicity, Conflict)

Just recently, we buried President Jimmy Carter, who was the president, when I was born. Jimmy was from Georgia, like my grandmother, and he came from a Southern Baptist background. Southern Baptists are known for being very conservative Christians who did not support abortion.

Jimmy, despite that background, actually supported LGBTQ rights by lifting a federal ban. He supported Roe v. Wade which protected access to abortion. And, he established the federal Department of Education.

However, Jimmy had an antagonistic relationship with Congress, and that alienated several Democrats, including Ted Kennedy, who was the brother of John F. Kennedy, a president who was assassinated.

The Kennedy family has an established name brand due to JFK and Robert F Kennedy (another brother and JFK's attorney general who was also assassinated). Ted was the younger, drunken brother who caused the accidental death of a college friend.

In 1980, Ted challenged Jimmy for the presidency even though they were both Democrats. Jimmy has the incumbent shouldn't have faced a challenge from his own party, but he had just been that bad.

So, this internal strife weakened the Democratic Party entering the 1980 election. In that same year, Jimmy boycotted the 1980 Olympics in Russia due to Russia's invasion of Afghanistan. Furthermore, there was a recession.

The Republican Party nominee was a former Hollywood actor turned politician named Ronald Reagan. Ronald was the governor of California and was trailing Jimmy in the polls until a presidential debate in which Ronald used his acting skills to make Jimmy seem incompetent.

Ronald believed in "trickle down economics." He believed that if the wealthiest people were taxed less, then they would spend more, thus boosting the economy and allowing prosperity to "trickle down" to the working & Middle class.

He also believed in increased military spending as this was the height of the Cold War with Russia. My own parents voted for Reagan because my dad was in the military.

Instead of trickling down, the wealthy just grew wealthier. Republicans continued to lower taxes for these individuals and businesses, so the money never trickled down. Social services were underfunded & unemployment increased. Reagan's response was to blame Black "welfare mothers" for abusing the system.

Republicans latch onto this. They implement work requirements for government assistance and make it harder for folks to pull out of poverty. As a result, a wealth gap separated white folk from the rest. White folk felt their hard earned money was supporting lazy white & Black folk, so they continued to constrict welfare programs.

[Section added] During Reagan's term, an unknown illness is killing young, gay Black & Latino men. It's AIDs. Reagan deemed it a gay disease that only affects gay people, so no funding is allocated to study this disease. It's viewed as retribution for their homosexua lifestyle. However, overtime, they learn about HIV once non-gay men were infected. Children die from the disease because blood is not tested for it, so some are born from it through their mothers while others were given transfusions.

Under Reagan, the Fairness Doctrine ends. Under this doctrine, news agencies had to report both sides of an issue. Because of this, television stations can now present one side. Fox News opens as a conservative network.

Ronald is well-loved by white folk. He gets elected to two terms. By the end of his term, the economy has recovered, and white folk are prospering. Then, his VP, George H.W. Bush, is elected.

Under George I, the Cold War ends, but we have the Gulf War in Kuwait. He signs trade agreements that result in several American companies, namely the auto industry, to shutter their doors and build factories overseas. This is due to a change in tariffs!

Millions of Americans lose their jobs as factories close. Detroit, as the leading auto manufacturer city, is devastated. Back in the 90s, Detroit was the 4th largest US city after Chicago. These factory closures hit the Midwest, especially hard.

This makes Bush unpopular. He is challenged by a young, charismatic Democrat named Bill Clinton.

Bill was a southerner like Jimmy, but Bill was a very well-known ladies' man. Bill appeals to Black Americans, though, and that allows him to defeat George.

Bill continues expanding trade agreements. He's a fiscal conservative despite being a Democrat, and under Bill, military spending is reduced.

[Section added] The rise of AIDs leads to further hate directed at the LGBTQ. During the 90s, several queer people are murdered. One such kid was Matthew Shepard. A college kid in Wyoming, he is beaten by a gang of white men. His family was terrorized so much, that they couldn't bury him because of fears his grave would be desecrated.

[A white woman Bishop in DC invites Shepard's parents to bury him in their graveyard. That Bishop is Marian Edgar Budde, the same Bishop who gave Trump his inaugural sermon this past week. She pleaded for Trump to have mercy on the queer community because she was the Bishop who buried Shepard!]

Bill is a popular president. The economy is booming, but he's still a lady's man, and he gets in trouble with a college intern.

This scandal adversely impacts the last few years in office so much so that his VP, Al Gore, loses the presidency to George W. Bush.

George Bush won the Electoral College while Al Gore won the popular vote. There was such a tiny margin that there were numerous recounts because of faulty ballots (hanging chads). Eventually, the Supreme Court intervenes and tells them to stop the count and certify George as president.

George II is the son of George I.

George II is a popular Texan with swagger. He wants to build up the military once again.

Clinton left a surplus of money, so what did George II do? He implemented tax cuts for the wealthy. That damned "trickle down economics" again. The wealthy get wealthier, increasing the wealth gap between white folks and everybody else.

They cut taxes while cutting social services. One of his biggest "achievements" was a restructuring of our educational system called "No Child Left Behind."

NCLB emphasizes test scores. School administrations are penalized if they don't meet these standards. They lost funding, so electives such as home economics, art, Music, etc are trimmed to make room for these test standards. By this time, my dad has retired from the military and is a school principal, and I remember the stress of trying to meet these standards.

These standards emphasize STEM at the expense of liberal arts. This is happening just as the internet becomes available to all.

Amazon opens as an online used book store. Facebook is started as a college message board. There's a tech boom, so everyone is being pushed into tech fields. Liberal arts education was devalued.

During his term, 9-11 happens. We declare war on Afghanistan. Islamophobia spikes. Fox News helps drive this narrative. Christianity is now being pushed into schools, whereas schools were previously secular.

[Section added] In 2004, the assault rifle ban was lifted. Now we are seeing a dramatic spike in school shootings. The Far Right embraces the expansion of the 2nd Amendment.

Then, we go to war in Iraq.

We aren't quite sure why we're at war with Iraq. We overthrow Suddam Hussein (from the Gulf War). George declares victory, then terminates the Iraqi Army.

This triggers an insurrection. Massive casualties are coming out of Iraq. The war in Afghanistan is overshadowed.

George serves two terms, but his VP is so unpopular that he doesn't run for president. Instead, the Republican nominee is John McCain.

Two Democrats fight for the nomination. Hillary Clinton, the wife of Bill, and Barack Obama.

Barack was a young, biracial Senator from Illinois. I attended law school in Illinois, and one of my classmates had been his legislative aide. I met Barack twice while a student. The first time, he had come to campus to propose a college-savings account. After his press conference, I latched onto his arm and refused to let go until he heard me, and I explained that his proposal was unrealistic because it assumed that a single mother would have the resources to save for an education when it was more likely her money would go towards groceries & rent or other immediate needs. (Fast forward two-three years, and the dude is repeating my line during the State of the Union! I had changed his mind!)

Barack beats Hillary for the nomination. He defeats McCain and is sworn in as the 1st black (not Black) president.

Obama is popular and well-loved by most Americans. Under his tenure, gay marriage is legalized.

Fox News triples down on their hatred.

Their network booms. They push Islamophobia 24/7. Highlight the fact that Obama's father was Muslim and that his middle name was Hussein.

Older Americans are watching program after program of this negativity. A movement starts called the Tea Party movement, which positions itself as a fiscally conservative movement. A bankrupt slumlord with a reality TV show gains popularity with these folks.

I wrote my master's dissertation on the Tea Party movement. It's called "Jesus and the White Man."

Donald Trump

Donald latches onto the Islamaphobia. He calls Barack by his middle name and questions his birth certificate. Donald grows popular with older Americans.

At the end of Obama's term, the son of VP Biden dies. This devastated Biden. He had lost his infant daughter & first wife in a car accident. He decides not to run for president.

Obama supports Hillary.

It is now Hillary v. Trump.

Trump pushes misogyny and Islamaphobia. Hillary is Bill's wife and a woman. She is the most qualified presidential candidate to ever run (at that time).

During Obama's last year in office, Justice Antonin Scalia* dies. Obama has the privilege to nominate that next Justice, but Mitch McConnell stalls through the election.

But older white Americans were barely okay with a black president. They were not about to let a woman serve as President. At the same time, an organization called Cambridge Analytica began to fine-tune an ultra conservative agenda.

With the help of Russian intelligence, they use Facebook ads to try to persuade voters to support Trump. They succeeded with white folk, but they did not succeed with the Black vote.

Russians used African bot farms in order to try to persuade Black Americans to support Trump. We rejected him at 90%.

Donald wins the Electoral College but not the popular vote.

Donald is a corrupt and ineffectual president. He tried to bribe foreign leaders and shared US intelligence with Russia.

However, as a populist, he latches onto the Christian Right. He nominates 3 Supreme Court Justices who lie during their confirmation hearings. These Justices will ultimately vote to overturn Roe v. Wade.

The Christian Right love this. But then COVID hits and the incompetence of Donald leads to millions of deaths. These Christian folk refuse to get vaccinated or wear masks.

Donald is an unpopular president and ranks as the worst president of all time.

Biden challenges him and wins.

Donald refuses to accept that he lost, so he organized an attempted coup. January 6th.

He's impeached. Twice.

McConnell refuses to take the step to have him permanently barred from office.

Biden takes office when COVID is still rampant. The Christian Right continue to push their agenda, seeking to remove protections for the LGBTQI.

Right wing media generates a lot of money. Podcasters jump on the bandwagon. Red pill content spills into the mainstream.

Kids who were isolated during COVID are now at home watching Joe Rogan & Theo Von. They spend hours upon hours on TikTok.

But unbeknownst to these kids is the history of Russian interference.

Schools emphasize STEM. They don't emphasize liberal arts or social sciences such as history or literature. The literacy rate plummeted to an all-time low. The average white American's reading level is at the 4th grade. They aren't able to engage in critical thinking.

They don't know the history of the Spanish Influenza. They don't know the history of a trade war that triggered the Great Depression. They don't know that our government has imprisoned citizens in internment camps. They don't know Hitler's rise to power.

In fact, Fox News frequently features individuals who deny the Holocaust.

Russia move their troll farms from Facebook to TikTok, where the algorithm serves as an echo chamber. Uneducated, illiterate folks gobble up 30-second videos but can't be arsed to watch anything over 5 minutes so complex issues are stripped down to sound bites.

The algorithm pushed right-wing fascist talking points. They rehabbed Donald while shifting Gen Z to the far right. They do not know how to verify information for themselves, so they gobble up misinformation and disinformation.

If a TikTok creator has millions of followers with thousands of views and likes, these kids assume that that info is factual. They do not vet shit for themselves.

Russia pushed anti-American propaganda that posed as pro-American talking points. Pushed isolationism. Pushed anti-democratic rhetoric. In fact, one of their greatest accomplishments is convincing Gen Z and uneducated, white Millennials into thinking we aren't a democracy.

We are a fucking Democratic Republic. Our constitution begins with: "We the people".

So, because of TikTok, Trump won.

That's why Biden was pushing for it to be banned before the election. The algorithm was being corrupted. But folks couldn't part from their addiction.

Folks who had been anti-Trump just 5 years ago are suddenly Trump supporters. They were brainwashed.

So, how did we get here?

We got here because most Americans are fucking STUPID.

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

The interior of Ed and Stede's relationship is well-tread both in analysis and the show itself. We know why they fall for each other, how they fall for each other, when they fall for each other. We've been inside their heads. We could, if we wanted to, probably compile a rough timeline of events from Point A (Ed hearing of Stede's existence) to Point Z (Ed and Stede retiring from piracy to open an inn). Has anyone done that? Someone should do that. I might do that.

But a thread the show keeps pulling on from their first meeting all the way to the end of Season 2 is the persistent showing that no one else seems to fully understand what Ed and Stede have going on.

There are exceptions to this. Lucius with his emotional intelligence and arguably the whole crew of The Revenge understand that Ed and Stede feel something for each other that is somewhat outside the framework. The Revenge is a safe space where they are allowed to explore and hold feelings like that and their influence (Stede's, but really the whole crew's) outgrows the ship and spills out into the wider culture of piracy. They don't fundamentally change the whole culture of piracy, but their influence forces characters who would otherwise be immovable and rigid in their personal philosophies (Anne and Mary Read, Zheng Yi Sao, Auntie, Ned Low's crew, etc.) to rethink their relationships with each other.

I already made a post about Jack and how he seems to think Stede is just a passing fascination, so I won't repeat myself. But this is not the first nor will it be the last time a character fundamentally misunderstands how much Ed cares about Stede. Izzy in Season 1 legitimately believes that Stede's death will force Ed back to normal, to the extent that he does not even try to comfort or console Ed during Stede's almost-execution. And he is caught totally caught off guard when Ed gives up his life to save Stede's.

Ned Low demonstrates an awareness of something being there, but he dismisses it the same way Jack did: Ed only cares about Stede because he's new and interesting. Ed will move on once that shiny new pirate smell wears off. "Ed only cares because you're interesting" and "Ed only cares because you're inexperienced".

These are easy assumptions to make when you only have one half of the picture. And when you don't understand that Ed exists as a multi-faceted whole thinking person outside of his Blackbeard persona and piracy. The distinction between "Blackbeard" and "Ed" was made very early on (Ed introducing himself as "Ed") and reinforced later with "His name is Ed". When other characters refer to Ed, it's useful to ask: are they talking about Ed or Blackbeard? Ed and Blackbeard are not fundamentally distinct personalities, but Blackbeard is a performance and a mask Ed puts on. His arc at the end of Season 2 deals with reconciling his past, Blackbeard, The Kraken, and all these other facets of himself into one cohesive person who is just called Ed.

Yeah, Ed is fascinated by Stede's things. His fabrics, his wardrobe, the model ship, the secret passages, the books. But even from their first meeting, Ed and Stede are not just connecting over Stede's clothes and his books. Ed is sharing his love of soft things with someone for probably the first time in his life, he's being vulnerable and truthful. He remains guarded through their first interactions, but he's being more open and candid than Blackbeard would be. "Do you fancy a fine fabric?" is not a question Blackbeard would answer honestly. And when Ed casually makes the reveal ("I'm Blackbeard") in the auxiliary wardrobe, Stede does not treat him any differently after the fact. Everyone else is like "big scary pirate Blackbeard!!" but Stede is like "That's Ed :) He's my friend :) He's very cool and he likes fabrics and did I mention he is my friend?? :)"

Ned Low, Izzy Hands, and Jack all ask the question Why does Blackbeard care so much about this fucking muppet? and collectively decide it must be because Stede clearly does not know what he's doing and/or he has a lot of cool stuff and Ed is into that shit. And there is a part of Ed who probably did at one point think it was just Stede's stuff he was into, that he just wanted what Stede had and then realized it was not about the fancy stuff it was about Stede as a person. That is why Ed starts to really fall for Stede at the end of "The Best Revenge is Dressing Well". They have their intimate moment and Ed is like oh fuck I might be in love with this guy for real oh fuccccck I want to kiss him so baddddd oh shit oh fuck. I've always been of the (maybe controversial? idk) opinion that Ed was flirting during their first meeting and making it obvious as possible he was DTF if Stede was into that, which is the maximum amount of physical intimacy and wanting Ed could allow himself to express without getting scared. He wasn't full bright lights in love with Stede at first sight, but he was infatuated at first conversation.

Interestingly, we never see this on the other side. It is always assumed that Stede just doesn't understand Ed, that he doesn't understand how Ed really feels about him and if he only knew The Real Ed (Blackbeard) he wouldn't have so many soft feelings. In Season 2, Stede is continuously confused when people suggest Ed might try to kill him. Because Stede alone knows that the last time Ed tried that, he ended up having a panic attack and hiding in Stede's bathtub. Izzy tries to pull the whole "you don't know him like I do" and Stede rebukes that fucking instantly by describing Ed's entire mindset in a single sentence while Izzy was just last season struggling to understand Ed's sudden shift in behavior. Izzy sees a change in Ed's behavior and is at a loss to understand, while Stede sees a change in Ed's behavior and instantly clocks what is going on.

"You don't actually know him" is how outsiders rationalize Stede's feelings about Ed and "he's just a momentary bit of fun" is how outsiders rationalize Ed's feelings for Stede.

The key to these intimate moments between Ed and Stede is that they really are between Ed and Stede. Ed never shares these memories with anyone. Even when he's talking with Mary Read in "Fun and Games", he brings up the stabbing because it's relevant and then tries to brush it off a little by saying he had to force Stede to do it and calling Stede "fragile". He does not even allude to the intimacy of that moment and his own being vulnerable. Stede and Lucius are the only people Ed reveals those parts of himself to.