#I feel like we’re constantly going backwards

[cherrysnax]

ik tumblr is a safe space for many people but I feel like the most vunerable ppl on this website are the only ones getting ran off and punished for the simple crime of existing. you can’t get away from the bigotry of real life anywhere, and it’s not just on here, there’s fucking ads basically calling all nonwhite people the devil getting spread on YouTube and Twitter, real life hate groups crowdfunding and making thousands on thousands it’s so fucked it’s so fucked

[boneblushed]

And, boy, you got her

synopsis Rafe’s in charge of the pledges during Rush Week. Hazing isn’t a thing. Making you feel so high school is.

wc 3.6K

a/n omgggg Euro Trip Rafe <3333 I was living on pledgetok last week and just couldn’t not write something about it

“Holy shit,” Noah mutters, surveying the crowd over his red cup, “I swear they get scrawnier every single year.”

Rafe nods gravely, taking a pull of his beer. “It’s fucking grim.”

“Like — fuck, look at those two.” Noah gestures toward the shaded veranda, a fresh coat of gloss making its balustrades shine. Huddled in one corner, attempting to take up as little space as possible, two boys donning UNC merch survey the crowd in tandem. “We weren’t that fucking scraggy as freshman, were we?”

“You two weren’t,” Kelce snorts, coming up behind them. Topper brings up his rear, mid-bite of his loaded hotdog. “Thornton definitely was though.”

“Oi!” Topper protests, his words garbled by half chewed sausage. “S’wasn’t that bad. C’mon.” He turns to Rafe then, swallowing his mouthful. “But seriously, you locked in any potentials?”

Rafe furrows his brow thoughtfully, looking back over Delta Chi’s yard. Unsurprisingly, it’s far too early to say. Though the barbecue that they’re hosting is a good way for pledges to mingle, it isn’t exactly hazing material; they’re going to have to get creative.

“Maybe,” he replies finally, shrugging. “We’ll just have to see I guess.”

He tips back his red cup again, swallowing the last dregs of beer before acquiescing. As he’s about to announce his need for a refill, a few pledges sidle up to their group, looking hopeful.

Not overtly, of course. Painstakingly hiding their eagerness behind an armour of insouciance.

“Rafe,” the tallest of the three greets, handing him another red cup. The golden liquid inside it brims to the surface, its white foam dissolving in mocking. “Hey, bro. You need another?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, hiding a grin. “Shit. Table service already?”

The boy grins in tandem, looking a little sheepish. “Big fan, man. I’m Dylan.” He motions at the two guys on either side of him, wearing matching squints and backwards caps. “This is Rahul and Xav, we’re all here from Trinity.”

“Durham and Chapel Hill?” Noah enquires, whistling approvingly when they nod. “Fuck, we used to love having away games there. Those Trin cheerleaders…”

“Haha, shit, what was that chic’s name again?” Rafe asks then, a pull of mirth as he turns to Noah. “The one you messed around with in junior year?”

“Blake,” Noah answers, groaning in a mock-wistful sort of way. “They didn’t make ‘em like her at the Academy.”

Rafe snorts, sending the pledges a sage glance. “Nah. They made ‘em better.”

Noah raises his eyebrows, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, so we are allowed to objectify your girl then, Cameron?”

“Damn, so you’re tied down?” Xavier pipes up, his voice gravelly and low on purpose. Overtly masculine, like he’s trying hard to be red-blooded. “Your girl doesn’t mind you partying?”

Rafe frowns. “Why would she mind?”

“Uh,” Xavier balks, pulling at the bill of his backwards cap, “shit. I don’t know… like, doesn’t she get pissed that you’re constantly around sorority girls?”

“HA —” Topper laughs, and then he falters, thwarted by Rafe’s warning glower. “Uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just say Cameron doesn’t give her any reasons to be suspicious.”

“Because he’s obsessed with her,” Noah adds, unperturbed by Rafe’s expression. He pauses then, an amusing idea popping into his head. “Which means…” he continues, returning Rafe’s glare with a trust me one of his own, “you guys should be too.”

Rafe doesn’t trust him. Like, at all. He sends him a bewildered look, unsure where he’s going with this. “White — what?”

Noah ignores him. He downs his beer and crushes the red cup in his hand, deftly aiming it at the nearest bag of trash. “So,” he says, eyeing the three pledges with interest. “How serious are you guys about rushing Delt?”

“Pretty serious, bro,” Rahul answers, looking to his friends for support. “Think we got a shot?”

Noah throws his arm around Rafe’s neck, his strong bicep taut as he shoots them a grin. “Depends, man, I might know how we could figure that out though.” He begins to steer Rafe away from them, sending one last, faux-somber look over his shoulder. “Be right back, yeah?”

Rafe, whose bewilderment is quickly giving way curiosity, allows himself to be marshalled out of earshot without complaints.

He shrugs Noah off of him once they’re on the verandah, his features ever-bemused as he turns toward him. “The fuck was that about?”

“Bro, I know exactly how we’re going to haze these motherfuckers,” Noah replies, his voice lilted with mirth. “You know… without breaking any rules.”

The bewildered expression on Rafe’s face doesn’t acquiesce. “Okay… how?”

“Instead of getting them to be our bitches,” he answers, a mischievous grin making home on his features. “We’re going to get them to be our girlfriends’ bitches.”

Rafe frowns. “Bro. What?”

“Cameron, it’s perfect.” He swipes Rafe’s beer from his hand and takes a generous pull. “What do frat guys hate more than being called scrawny as fuck?”

“Uh. Doing assignments?” Rafe answers blankly, still frowning. He doesn’t have it in him to think too hard about Noah’s profferance. He’s on hour two of manning this boring event, hour four since he bid you farewell, and all Rafe can bear to think about right now is the imminent taste of your peach-scented lips.

Noah shakes his head. “No, dumbass. Being called a simp.”

“Wrong,” Rafe answers, “I don’t mind that shit at all.”

“You’re the exception,” Noah replies matter-of-factly. “You and Y/N have always been the exception. C’mon, I’m talking about us,” he places his palm over his breastbone solemnly, “mere mortals.”

Rafe narrows his eyes. “Fuck off. How would that even work?”

“We…” Noah pauses to think, a slightly furrow to his brow, “alright, I got it. We assign the pledges to our girlfriends, one by one. Give them a week to make a good impression — you know, carry their bags, buy them flowers, all that sentimental crap you love.”

“You really think the guys’ll agree to this?” Rafe asks, sounding reluctant. “I mean… I don’t know if I’m alright with a bunch of idiots holding doors for my girl.”

“But you’re an idiot that holds a door for your girl,” Noah answers, not missing a beat.

“Fuck off, White.”

“I’m serious. It’ll be funny. And look… if you’re worried about Y/N, I know she’ll find it adorable as fuck.”

Rafe shakes his head. “No way. She didn’t find high-school me adorable.”

Noah raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You’d be surprised, man. Besides, these guys aren’t going to be like high-school you. High-school you was a douchebag.”

“A douchebag who got the girl.”

“A douchebag who got the girl after he stopped acting like a douchebag.” Noah smirks then. “A douchebag who’d give all these fuckers a run for their money if he was pledging Delt this year.”

Rafe grins in tandem, stealing his beer back to take a big swig. “Alright, shit, alright. Harmless shit though, right? Chivalry and all that?”

“Harmless as hell,” Noah agrees. “C’mon. You really think any of these guys has the balls to make a pass at one of our girls?”

“Easy for you to say, White. You don’t fucking have a girl.”

Noah frowns. “What d’you mean? Aren’t we going halves on Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Noah,” Rafe groans, almost spitting out his mouthful of beer. “If Y/N heard the shit you said when she wasn’t around, she’d probably kill you.”

“Nah,” Noah replies, seemingly unperturbed. “She loves me.”

“Well,” Rafe says grimly, crushing his own empty cup in his head. “She might do now, but she sure as hell won’t by the end of this week.”

—

The first time it happens, you’re understandably perplexed.

You’re en-route to your 9AM, bag strap denting your left shoulder, when a stranger falls into your step and swipes it from your figure. It’s a motion so quick and deft you initially think you’re getting mugged.

As you double back in bewilderment, he proffers, “you alright with this?”

“Uh.” You balk. “What?”

“Your bag,” he answers, readjusting it on his own shoulder. He seems earnest. Nervous, even. “It looked heavy. I can carry it to class for you, if you want?”

You allow a pause to take him in.

“No, I’m…” another pause, more of his demeanour on display. Backwards cap, crisp white polo shirt, smile lines exposing the ghost of a grin on his face. A familiar grin, the kind that pulls a soft, maudlin feeling from your ribcage. “Look, if you’re trying to hit on me —”

“No, no,” he interrupts quickly, his eyes widening in a panic. “Shit — no, don’t tell Cameron I’m hitting on you. I’m just…”

“Wait a minute,” your eyes narrow accusatorially, because of course he’s behind this chivalrous display, “you know my boyfriend?”

The stranger grimaces sheepishly. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Explain.”

“It’s… uh… well — basically, I’m pledging Delt,” he answers haltingly, self effacement juxtaposing his frat boy exterior. “Rafe’s asked us to be all gentlemanly and shit for pledge week, I don’t know. To you guys, I mean. Like… the current frat member’s girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “No he hasn’t.”

“Shit.” He looks far more nervous now that he did five minutes ago. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumble, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “No he did not.”

Rafe’s on speed dial. He picks up on the first ring, the way he always does for you.

“Hey baby,” his gravelly timbre crackles through the phone, the low hum of frat house chatter audible in the background. “What’s up?”

“Don’t even. You know what’s up Rafael.”

A pause. When Rafe speaks again, his voice is quick and placating. “It was Noah’s idea.”

“Of course it was.”

“Dylan’s not playing up, is he?”

You raise your eyebrows at the stranger then, assessing him faux-suspiciously. “No way. He’s doing a better job than you ever did in high school.”

“Woah woah woah,” Rafe replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “That fucker’s not calling you dream girl or something, is he?”

“Worse. He’s being respectful of my boundaries.”

“Oh shit. I fucking knew this was a bad idea.”

You shake your head in exasperation, trying not to laugh. The poor stranger’s still standing there at attention, your leather bag looking ridiculous on his arm. “Rafe. Tell me he’s the only one.”

“He’s one…” Rafe starts slowly, sounding sheepish, “of three. Four, counting me.” In the background, you hear Noah pipe up and add, “five, Cameron. How could you forget me?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, Noah White,” you shout through the phone.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Noah sings, and then he groans, no doubt shoved to the side by his indignant best friend. It’s Rafe on the phone again, voice sweet and thick as molasses as he says, “they’ll behave, baby, and make your life easier in the process. I promise.”

“What?” You accuse, fighting back a smile. “Like you did in high school?”

“Fuck no,” he replies, the grin on his face audible. “They’ll be nothing like I was, sweetheart.”

“What?” You tease. “Absolutely insufferable?”

“And absolutely in love with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “How can you be so sure?”

“They’re under strict instruction. Have a shiner waiting for them if they pull something funny.”

Another exasperated laugh bubbles out of you, and you begin walking forward again, motioning at the boy named Dylan to follow in your step. “Right. So the boundaries are on purpose, are they?”

“The respect, too. No being inappropriate and charming at the same time.”

“And why not?” You ask faux-indignantly. “What if I like being objectified?”

“Can’t have you falling in love with them, can I?”

“Hey,” you argue, frowning stubbornly. “That is not what made me fall in love with you.”

“It isn’t?”

“Well,” you balk, “not solely that.”

“You’re fucking sexy,” he recites devotedly, almost yells, and you can hear the collective groan of his frat brothers in the background. “Are you wearing those Lululemon pants right now? Point is, I’m thinking about your ass in those Lululemon pants right now.”

“Rafe, I was fucking kidding. Stop.”

“No you weren’t.” You know he’s right; you can picture that stupid smirk on his face. It makes your cheeks warm. Asshole. “You’re blushing now, aren’t you?”

“Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Rafe agrees. “No funny business, alright? Just lots of good deeds.”

Good deeds. You suppose you could get used to good deeds, the embarrassment of attention notwithstanding.

You let out a defeated sigh, halting in front of your 9AM class. “You so, so owe me.”

“I so, so love you,” Rafe replies, and it makes your pulse leap; you’ll never get used to this feeling. “See you later, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Love you.”

Dylan waits until you’ve ended the call before saying farewell, dutifully handing your leather bag back to you and giving you a mock salute. The way he does it, all sheepish and genuine with a charming smile on his face, makes your heart twinge in a junior year of high-school sort of way. You’re feeling sentimental. It’s sweet.

You’re reminded of Rafe before he was yours, stumbling over himself to win your favour. Confusing chivalry with courting, objectifying you in the name of flirting.

Insufferable, but sweet nonetheless. You digress.

—

The next time it happens, you’re ambushed at your favourite cafe.

A dutiful Delta Phi pledge has already queued up and purchased you coffee, handing it over to you with a blushing bouquet of tulips.

You raise your eyebrows at him questioningly. “Is that…?”

“Uh, an oat iced coffee with vanilla?” He asks, sounding nervous. “I asked Cameron for your order.”

“Didn’t ask me about pastries, though,” a voice behind you adds, rough and familiar with a sweetness around the edges. Rafe circles your waist with ease and pulls you into his chest, sponging a soft kiss to your temple before handing you a brown bag.

A glossy, Daily Bread sticker shines on its exterior proudly.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look up at him expectantly. “Tell me you didn’t drive back home for a single croissant.”

“I didn’t drive back home for a single croissant,” Rafe replies. He grins then, looking that same, sheepish genuine that pulls a maudlin feeling. “I drove back home for twenty.”

“Rafe. Why?”

“Because you like Daily Bread,” he replies matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious.

You shake your head in exasperation, tip-toeing up to press a quick kiss to his lips. It becomes less quick against better judgement. He tastes like spearmint gum and cold brew, the hand he has held to your waist tightening ever so slightly. Slipping under your shirt, massaging the soft skin he finds there expertly, discreetly. Too much for 8am on a Wednesday morning, sans coffee. Your face feels on fire. You pull away in a hurry.

Meanwhile, the freshman pledge balks at the exchange, looking out of place.

Rafe frowns bemusedly at your diffidence, only clocking the reason when you nod over at him.

“I’ll walk her over Ben,” he says, dismissing him. “You’re off the hook, bro.”

“Shit.” The boy named Ben grimaces; he needs to get his hours in, and doesn’t deem this a fair ambush. He scrambles for an excuse. “Right. Can I still give her the flowers?”

“Of course you can,” you beam, accepting them gratefully. You look up at Rafe then, asking, “And if I want to walk with Benjamin?”

Rafe grins down at you, disbelieving. “Do you, baby?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you say, wriggling out of his grasp. “He got me flowers.”

Rafe falters, his eyes widening in surprise. “Sweetheart, I got you a croissant.”

“Ben got me a coffee,” you hedge. “And flowers.”

“Y/N,” he placates.

“Rafael,” you echo, unperturbed by his exasperation. You take a sip your coffee. “I’ll see you later, okay? Ben’s ticking off a good deed this morning.”

Poor Ben looks helpless, taking the brunt of Rafe’s glare as you motion for him to hold the door for you.

“C’mon Ben, we’re going to be late.”

“But…” Ben pauses, his eyes flitting to Rafe nervously. “This is fine, right?”

Rafe sighs, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth in defeat. “Yeah, bro. You’re good.” He looks to you, then. “You’re unbelievable.”

You smile sweetly. “I’m wearing the Lulu leggings.”

“Oh I noticed,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes falling down your figure in slow, reverent paces. “It’s why I want to be the one holding the door for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Men only want one thing.”

Rafe grins. “Yeah. You.”

—

By the end of the week, you’re more used to the chivalry than you’re willing to admit.

You’ve enjoyed free iced lattes and filled your dorm with gorgeous bouquets, no door left unopened and no walk to class left unescorted. And really, every pledge you’ve come across has been pleasant and unassuming, albeit absolutely terrified of Rafe and therefore extra obliging on instinct.

They’ve even offered to do favours for you, got you into sought after Pilates classes and done last minute grocery runs on your behalf. It’s put you in this constant state of mild exasperation, like you can’t believe you’re worthy of this much love and chivalry.

It’s exactly the way you felt back in high-school with Rafe, and this revelation pulls lots of funny feelings from your stomach, from your chest. Feelings you’ve forgotten that are all yours and all his. Because it’s strange, having someone other than Rafe taking care of you. (Or Noah.) It’s strange because it makes you realise just how much he adored you back in the day.

These emotions come to a head at the pledge week closing bash, Delta Phi lit up with fluorescent lights in technicolour. Inebriation ensues, beer pong follows, and an impromptu DJ deck plays endless songs with heavy bass.

Rafe Cameron has you pulled close, as always, the taut muscle of his forearm pressing heat to your exposed waist. You’re a few drinks down and hyperaware of his proximity, ankles touching, thighs too, torsos close with your head resting on his shoulder.

“I think I like Dylan the best,” you announce suddenly.

“Yeah?” Rafe asks, kneading your skin absentmindedly.

You nod. “He’s sweet. Told me all about his girl back home.”

Rafe grins then, shaking his head bemusedly. “You’re such a sucker for love, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” You glare up at him faux-incensed, looking accusatory. “So are you!”

“Shhhh,” Rafe murmurs playfully. “Not so loud, you’ll fuck up my street cred.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care about street cred?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Rafe agrees easily, leaning down to draw your lips in for a kiss. He’s all patchouli and musk, beer on his tongue and unchaste intentions in his touch. When he pulls away, his lips are still an inch from yours, his voice rougher than it was a second ago, “I don’t care. Like, at fucking all.”

“Good,” Noah snorts from behind him. “‘Cause you never had any to begin with, bro.”

“There you are,” you say then, eyeing Noah over Rafe’s shoulder. There’s a mock accusatory expression on your face, softened by mirth and the alcohol on your lips. “Have you been hiding from me, White?”

Noah grins sheepishly, taking a pull of his beer. “Maybe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me. When did you become worse than Rafael?”

“I didn’t become worse!” Noah insists. “He just became better. You know, after he got the girl.”

You make a face. “Smooth.”

“Hey,” Noah raises his arms in surrender, looking faux-somber, “someone’s gotta teach the next generation, don’t they? I’m committed to their education.” He raises his eyebrows then, a mischievous glint in his eye. “C’mon, don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

Rafe grins. “She totally fucking loved it.”

You aim a glare at the pair of them, failing miserably at hiding your amusement. “So maybe I didn’t mind it. Sue me.”

“Of course you loved it,” Noah says, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side. “You love Cameron, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Opinions vary.”

“You love me?” Noah tries.

“You fucking wish.”

“Everyone fucking wishes,” Rafe says then, throwing his arm around you too, your figure wedged between the pair of them. Frat boy sandwich, you think tiredly. If high-school you could see you now, you’re pretty sure she’d have an aneurysm. “Especially when you’re in Lululemon.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding. Not really. They all love you, you know that, yeah?”

You look up at him questioningly. “The pledges?”

“Uh huh,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows at you. “This is what I was afraid of, you know.”

“What?” You ask, lifting yours in tandem.

“Everyone falling in love with you, like I did in high school.”

You scrunch up your nose at him, your cheeks warming in diffidence. “No one’s fallen in love with me, don’t be silly.”

“I have,” Noah pipes up unhelpfully.

“Shut up, Noah. I saw you talking to Georgia just before.”

Noah grins, pulling away and offering you a mock salute. “Guilty as charged.” He turns to survey the crowd, spotting her figure on the fairy-light lit porch. “Speaking of…”

And he’s gone before you’re able to tease him any further, leaving Rafe to guide you out of his side and into his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands exerting a warm, steady pressure into the curve of your waist.

“As I was saying,” you continue, frowning up at him playfully. “No one’s fallen in love with me.”

Rafe’s unconvinced. His gaze skates down your figure again, a tortured groan falling from his throat. “Have you seen you, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, face hot and self conscious. “And even if they have,” you add, “it doesn’t matter.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

“No way. Because I’m in love with you, not any of them.”

Rafe grins then, a devastatingly handsome look on his face. “I’ll never get used to hearing that.”

“I’ll never get used to saying it.”

[mapis-putellas]

𝑺𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

~ Famous!Reader ~

The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the radio playing in the background. You were lounged on the couch, scrolling absently through your phone whilst Alexia sat at the dining table, laptop open, papers scattered around her. She was reviewing match footage, if the sound escaping the speakers was anything to go by. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun, a few stands framing her face. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and it was moments like this that reminded you how deeply you loved her.

You’d been together for a year, and the secrecy of your relationship had become both a comfort and a frustration. On one hand, it gave you both a private escape from the chaos of your respected lives -yours as a singer constantly in the spotlight, hers as the captain of one of the most famous football teams in the world. On the other hand, it meant stolen glances and careful movements whenever you were out in public.

Tonight, though, you felt the weight of it. Maybe it was the countless messages and comments from fans speculating about your relationship, or the paparazzi photos of Alexia leaving a restaurant last week and the relentless questioning about who she’d been with whilst you’d escaped through the back entrance. You sighed as you locked your phone and dropped it onto the coffee table, the device landing with a slightly louder than necessary clatter.

Alexia glanced up at the sound. Catching the expression on your face, she closed the lid of her laptop and stood up before making her way over, her socked feet silent on the carpeted floor. She sank down on the couch next to you before holding out her hand. You take it, allowing her to haul you back into a sitting position. You heave a great sigh before falling forward against her chest, curling your legs up and throwing them over her lap.

“¿Qué pasa?” She murmured, pressing a kiss to your head as you shifted to get a little more comfortable against her. She wraps an arm around your shoulder, her other hand squeezing your thigh softly where it rests on her lap.

“It’s getting harder to keep this quiet.” you admit, voice slightly muffled by her shirt. You feel her stiffen against you for just a second, her fingers halting their gentle movements against your arm.

“Sí,” Alexia murmured after a moment.

You waited, giving her the time she needed to gather her thoughts. Conversation like this weren’t as easy for Alexia as they were for you. She wasn’t the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, and you’d learned early on that if you wanted to get anywhere, patience was key.

Eventually, you feel her look down at you, and you crane your head backwards to rest against her shoulder. Her eyes meet your own with a flicker of uncertainty, and you can’t help but reach up and cup her cheek, the pad of your thumb gently tracing over her skin.

“¿Quieres que lo digamos?” She asked quietly, leaning into your touch just slightly so she could press a kiss to your palm.

You smile a little at the sight before you shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit honestly. “I’m not saying we need to go shouting it from the rooftops, but…maybe it’s time to stop hiding.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. She shifted a little beneath you as she ran a hand through her hair. “Es complicado.” She said finally, the faintest edge of frustration in her voice.

“I know,” you nod, grasping her hand in your own and intertwining your fingers. The difference in size has your lips quirking up into a small smile. “But we can’t keep sneaking around forever, ale. People are speculating and if we’re not careful, they’ll figure it out before we have chance to tell them.”

She exhaled softly, her head tipping back against the couch as she stared up at the ceiling. You watched her, heart aching at the clear conflict on her face. She’d always been intensely private, guarding her personal life with the same tenacity she shows on the pitch. You loved that about her, but you also knew how much of a toll it was taking on the both of you.

“What if…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked back at you, her expression unreadable. “What if it changes things?”

You sighed softly as you adjusted yourself on her lap, one leg either side of her hips. You scoot yourself as close as you could before reaching up to cup her cheeks. “It won’t,” you said firmly. “Not between us, I won’t let it.”

Her gaze softened as she rested her hands in the creases of your hips before sliding them up so they sat at the small of your back. You feel her play absentmindedly with the material of your shirt as she pressed her forehead against your own.

“Our lives are…complicado,” she whispered, her voice barely filling the silence between you. “I don’t want..more pressure for you.”

“You’re not pressuring me, and I hope to god I’m not pressuring you either,” your voice was just as quiet as you slide your hands round to rest on the back of her neck, fingers tangling through the baby hairs there. You smile when her eyes flutter shut briefly at the sensation. “This is a decision we make together. If you’re not ready, then we don’t do it. Simple as that.”

Alexia’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles as the tension in her shoulders ease. “You are not pressuring me, amor. I have been thinking about it too. I just…did not know how to bring it up.” She admitted.

You hum slightly as you peck the corner of her lips. “Well, in that case, you’re welcome.”

Alexia rolled her eyes affectionately as she poked you in the side, and with a quiet yelp, you bat her hands away, a playful glare on your face. She smirked as she looped her arms back around your waist, her hands sliding up a little further to pull you closer. You end up sat flush together. Stomach to stomach, and chest to chest.

After a few quiet moments, her voice once again fills the silence.

“Maybe… una manera pequeña.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Like a soft launch?”

Her brows knitted together in confusion, and you can’t help but smile as you gently kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s like…teasing the idea without actually confirming anything. A photo that makes people wonder but doesn’t give away an actual answers.”

Alexia considered this, her fingers tracing gentle circles over the small of your back. “That could work.” She said slowly, though her tone was still uncertain.

“It’s not a big announcement,” you lift a shoulder into a small shrug. “Just a way to take control back. If people are going to speculate, let’s give them something harmless to speculate about.”

Alexia nodded slowly, expression thoughtful. She lifted one of her hands away from your back and used it to gently coax your face closer to hers. With her fingers tucked beneath your chin, she used the pad of her thumb to trace lightly over your jawline.

“Okay. Lo hacemos.” She murmured, her lips now just centimetres away from yours. She was so close you could feel every gentle exhale, and you can’t help but grin as you close the gap between you to finally connect your lips.

Her agreement sent a wave of relief crashing over you, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you feel her deepen the kiss, her hands slipping beneath your shirt and sliding up towards your shoulder blades.

“We’ll do it our way.” You breathe as she finally pulled away.

“Juntas.”

**

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[sexlapis]

- house decor

꩜ nanami x reader

synopsis: you & nanami go home decor shopping and your methods for choosing furniture are…interesting to say the least.

suggestive, heavy sex implications, crack fic, fluff, gender neutral!reader, nanami & reader are married, reader embarrassing nanami

a/n: inspired by this tiktok video ^_^

masterlists

*

you do not enjoy shopping.

the bustling crowd, the loud, busy atmosphere, the blinding strain of artificial light and constantly moving around on your feet for hours on end when you desired the comfort of your home.

you do not enjoy shopping.

unfortunately for you, your newly wedded husband nanami did and being the good partner you are, you willingly put aside your mild discomfort to make him happy.

it’s so difficult being a good, loving and caring partner for your husband, really.

after shoving all of your previous shopping in the trunk of the car, relief floods you. finally, this day is over. it’s only 4pm and a long, cosy afternoon nap awaits at home.

instead, nanami waits beside the car, holding his hand out for you to hold. “come on. we still have one more place left.”

“what!” you groan. “i thought that was the last one!”

“nu-uh. just this one and we’re all done for the day.”

grumbling, you place your hand in his. nanami smiles softly at you and your frustrations ease just a little.

he drags you along the buzzing car park all the way to a large, furniture store.

furniture, huh?

“oh! furniture shopping!” you gleam, a mischievous glint in your eyes that nanami fails to notice. “i’m okay with this.”

“i think that is the happiest you’ve looked since we left the house.”

“yeah, i can tolerate shopping for furniture. not your five billion candles! also, i get to sit down.

“ah, _____,” nanami sighs fondly, pecking your temple quickly, “you are so lazy…”

you huff, but your attention is grabbed by a two-seater, emerald coloured sofa of velvet material. it looked comfortable and seemed like a good deal.

you glide your hand along the rim of the furniture. “what’d you think of this one, kento?”

“hm..it’s alright.” he replies, walking around the sofa and inspecting it like it needs a good fix. “it’s a little small, though.”

“yeah. yeah, that true,” you say, standing behind the lovely, exquisitely made piece of furniture.

you then place both hands onto the outside back of the sofa, and lean forward, effectively bending over. you shift around, seeing how it feels.

glancing back, you see nanami tilt his head and squint his eyes at you.

“…what are you doing?”

you smirk. “you know, jus’…seeing how it feels,” you grunt, standing back up and dusting your hands off like you did a job well done, “it’s too short for me anyway, it would hurt my hips when we..y’know…”

nanami lifts a brow on his perfect face, waiting for you to elaborate.

but you just turn to the kitchen section, skipping away to see what other pieces of furniture and house decorations you can terrorise.

“this one is nice.” you say to nanami, who followed you all the way even in his confusion, of course.

the kitchen setup was modern and sleek, taking on neutral tones like beige, white and brown.

“yes, i do like this one. i can see myself cooking on here.” nanami replies, referring to the electric oven.

“yeah, yeah..” you speak, opening and closing the kitchen cupboards. “hm.”

“what is it?”

“i dunno,” and then, you’re bending over again, this time over the kitchen counter display. “this area is a bit small too,” you jerk your body exaggeratedly, repeatedly moving forwards and backwards like you were being fucked, almost hitting your head on the cupboard above, “yeah, i don’t-”

“_____!” nanami hisses, face morphing into a incredulous expression as he marches over to you, quickly putting a stop to you act, “what are you doing?”

you look up at him from where you’re bent over. “wh-i’m testing it out. seeing if it’s what we need and whatnot,” you turn back around, still in the same position, “okay, now do a few practice thrusts on me, i need to see if-”

“_____!”

“okay, okay.” you huff, laughing a little. you stand up straight, taking a good look at nanami.

a pink tinge coats his cheeks and nose while he frowns at you, almost pouting.

how cute.

you grin and latch onto his fingers, pulling him along with you. “let’s see the bed section now.”

nanami sighs. this day will be longer than he thought.

*

you plonk yourself down on the alaskan sized mattress, body bouncing with the bed itself. sprawling out like a starfish, you hum, letting yourself sink into the comfort of the bed.

nanami stands, seemingly unimpressed. “_____, that’s the sixth time you’ve done that.”

“yeah, kento, i need to see if it’s good to lie on after a long day of work or something..” an idea springs to mind and you sit up quickly, “okay, try throwing me on the bed, but not too hard.”

“_____, no-”

“come on! nobody’s around. look.” you were correct, there was hardly anyone in the store at this time, considering it was a thursday and nearing late afternoon. “just indulge me. just this once,” you beam up at him, “please?”

nanami stared down at you. he and you both know that he will give in. he can’t say no to you, really.

nanami rolls his eyes at himself, holding his hands out and beckoning you over. “come here then..”

you spring up, practically running to him and throwing yourself in his arms. “throw me!”

he shakes his head at you, looking around before throwing you onto the bed. you bounce, cackling and smiling widely as you lay on the bed. nanami shakes his head fondly, looking down at your delighted face. “how is it?”

you breathe heavily, making a face. “eh,” you jump off the bed, “too bouncy and too loud.”

“really?” nanami blanks. “you’ve been jumping on this bed for ten minutes and you don’t-”

“ooo, come look at this armchair, kento!” but you’re already off to your next piece of furniture. you kneel down a little, “this one looks comfy.”

“yeah,” huffing, nanami strolls over, “yeah, it’s nice.”

your hand finds nanami’s back and you prompt him forward. “sit on it.”

he gives you a look. “and you won’t do anything ridiculous?”

“nanami.” you look at him pointedly. “sit on it, i wanna see what you think.”

nanami stared at you for second and obeys, walking to the couch and sitting, legs spread and arms resting.

“what’d you think?” you ask, admiring his thick legs and arms as you stalk closer to him.

“yes, it’s comfortable,” nanami stated and shifts a little. he feels the leather material of the armrest, “and good quality i’d say.”

“hmmm.” that’s all that is said before you’re plopping yourself onto his lap.

nanami sputters. “_____, wh-”

“shh, shush, i’m not gonna do anything this time. just wanna see how i feel sitting on your lap in this chair,” you look back at him from where you’re seated, smiling innocently, “yeah?”

nanami’s eyes thin, clearly not believing you and not a fan of displaying such intimate affection so publicly, but he sighs, “alright….”

you nod joyfully, rubbing his knee and turning to look at the layout of this particular living room. a large, black, smart television that nanami would definitely deem unnecessary, a cream, ruffled rug laid out across the floor, a mahogany, oval-shaped coffee table.

“this one’s pretty boring, right?”

nanami runs a hand down his stubble covered jaw. he forgot to shave, but you can’t say you don’t like it. “yeah, the only thing i like is the armchair.”

before he even finishes his sentence, you’re momentarily bouncing on his lap like a pogo stick, not even giving nanami time to process what just happened before you stand up, placing your hands on your hips. “yeah, yeah we should definitely get this one. comfy, quiet, nice looking. will fit perfectly into our living room, don’t you think?”

nanami stares at you, still planted on the armchair, unmoving. “i have nothing to say to you. you’re unbelievable.”

you cackle. “do you even know me?”

he mumbles, rising from the seat, adjusting his jeans slightly. you smirk, biting your lip and go to say something teasing, but he stops you, “not. a. word.”

*

a brand new, comfortable and most importantly, durable, leather armchair sits in your living room by the end of next week.

a/n: i luv when reader is a little tease 🤭🤭🤭

[princessbrunette]

the rafe/bunny reader discussion made me remember my obsession with jj/kitten reader

scratched back, kitten licking, cuddles, high energy for adventures, napping on him, sitting on his face...

having him pulling you around/manhandling you despite ur fierce attitude like ur the lightest thing ever

constantly bitting him and pushing his limits until hes had enough and needs to reprimand you!

₊🐈‍⬛˚ʚ 🥛₊˚🎀°˖ 🤍｡˚

being at a party with jj, and he can feel that little catty attitude of yours setting in simply because you were tired. all the telltale signs are there, squinting in a glare what you think is intimidatingly at anyone who talks to your boyfriend, digging your claws— sorry, nails beneath jj’s muscle tee when he’s not giving you enough attention, and now— you were resulting in biting his bicep that was wrapped around your neck, the blonde stood pressed up behind you around the bonfire in a group. he leans down to your ear.

“you know if you’re hungry i’d rather you not eat me. can’t you eat like, john b instead? he looks like he has tasty meat.” he teases, trying to keep things lighthearted despite him knowing you’re developing a little attitude. he wasn’t bothered though, he had enough beer in his system and you weren’t ever anything he couldn’t handle.

“no. trying to leave a bite mark so that girl that keeps looking at you gets the message.” you practically growl, sinking your teeth into his forearm again making him wince.

“ah, jesus— you got fangs or what? how does that little mouth produce such a dangerous bite?” he accuses, slipping his fingers between your mouth and his skin to stop you from doing it again.

“shush. let me.” you frown grumpily and he tsks, manhandling you a little by the waist to stand back from him and starts to walk you backwards away from the group, sensing that you need some special attention.

“dont get feisty with me kittycat, you know who’s boss i don’t gotta tell you.” he reprimands gently, squeezing your hips.

“i wanna go home.” you pout and he grins.

“see? look at you using your words. knew you had it in you.” he waves a finger with a grin before spinning back to the group, jogging towards them.

“hate to be the bearer of bad news but we’re gonna bounce. gotta get this one home and in bed before she scratches my eyes out. peace, dudes.” he announces making you roll your eyes.

“dumbie.” you mutter as he approaches you with an amused smile, patting your butt as he passes you to get you to follow.

“reowwww!” he mocks, swiping the air with an angry cat claw, taking your hand and helping you into his truck.

₊🐈‍⬛˚ʚ 🥛₊˚🎀°˖ 🤍｡˚

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

When Harry came running into his study one bright October day, the first thing Voldemort thought was, Didn’t I lock that door? Years of living with the boy – well, man now – hadn’t yet inured Voldemort to him constantly being underfoot and getting into places where he shouldn’t be.

His second thought was that the flush of exertion colouring Harry’s cheeks was rather fetching. Even if his hair was more of a windswept bird’s nest than usual and the knees of his jeans were dirty.

“Vee, you gotta come with me,” Harry said. His breathing was just a little heavy, likely from running about like an excitable child.

“Oh, I ‘gotta,’ do I?” Voldemort teased in a deadpan tone, arching his brows as he watched Harry shift in place in the doorway.

“C’mon, don’t be pedantic; follow me,” Harry insisted. When he began walking over with a determined light in his eyes, Voldemort accepted his fate with a sigh, setting down his book and rising from his seat. Capitulation was better for his pride than losing, after all.

“Very well, lead the way.”

He pretended not to see Harry’s victorious fist-pump.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

When they reached their apparent destination, as indicated by Harry throwing his arms wide to present… something, Voldemort said, “What am I meant to be looking at?”

He couldn’t help but feel that Harry’s exasperated sigh was undeserved. “Leaves!” the man exclaimed, gesturing in front of them again.

“Yes, there are a lot of leaves,” Voldemort agreed slowly, wondering if the other man may have been caught with a stray confundus in the past hour.

“No, you–” Harry said, huffing out a laugh. “I raked some of the leaves into a pile. We’re going to jump into it.”

“We are not.”

“Uh, yeah, we definitely are.”

“Correction: I am not. You can do whatever foolish thing you like.”

“Vee, don’t be a spoilsport. Didn’t you ever want to play in the leaves when you were a kid?”

Tilting his head to the side, Voldemort gave it a moment of thought. “Not particularly, no. There weren’t enough trees around Wool’s to create an adequate pile, and the ground was too full of stones. I’ve never been fond of being dirty, either.”

“That is both sad and far too practical,” Harry said. “C’mon, a little dirt won’t hurt you, Mr. Big, Bad Dark Lord.”

“I’m going to remember you said that,” Voldemort threatened absently, glancing away from the leaf pile to watch the other man. “Is there a particular reason why you’re goading me?” 

Harry ducked his head, kicking one foot back and forth through the leaves and scattering them, though there were enough that it barely made a difference. “I dunno,” he said quietly. “When I was younger, I’d see some of the neighbourhood kids playing with each other in the leaves. I always had to rake them up and bin them immediately at the Dursleys'. It seemed like such a waste.”

And Voldemort was more than capable of filling in the bits that Harry wasn’t saying by this point. Sighing his defeat yet again, he turned away from the leaf pile, ignoring Harry’s disappointed sound. Then he let himself fall backwards, landing with a flump and sending leaves fluttering into the air around him.

Harry’s joyous shout preceded his flop into the leaf pile next to Voldemort by mere moments. Rolling back and forth and flailing his arms about with a smile practically splitting his face in half, Harry looked ecstatic. 

Reaching over, Voldemort plucked a leaf from Harry’s hair, letting it fall between them. Harry’s surprised eyes peered back at him, before they crinkled into happy half-moons behind his ridiculous glasses.

“Thanks, Vee,” he said far too sincerely for something so simple.

So Voldemort sat up, grabbed a handful of leaves and pitched it into Harry’s face, eliciting an indignant squawk. Before he could fully extricate himself, Voldemort was tackled back into the leaf pile, spitting out fallen foliage and rolling a cackling Harry off of him to pin the giddy man to the ground and stuff fistfuls of leaves down his shirt.

They both ended up flushed and dirty, but Voldemort couldn’t find it in him to complain.

[maxdibert]

It shouldn’t surprise me that the Arcane fandom has a hefty dose of internalized misogyny, but honestly, it’s exhausting to constantly see how female characters are judged, condemned, and demonized for the simple "sin" of being complex, layered, and morally questionable, while the fandom favorite is a drug lord who used a populist, nationalist rhetoric to justify child exploitation and drug trafficking that poisoned the very people he claimed to defend. Yes, I’m talking about Silco. The same Silco who threw a little girl in prison and took her younger sister, making her believe her older sister didn’t care about her anymore. The same Silco who projected his traumas onto a kid and manipulated her into being his weapon. The same Silco who posed as the "people’s champion" while being one of the main reasons the people were dying in the first place.

And don’t get me wrong—I love Silco. He’s a fantastic villain, and his relationship with Jinx is as fascinating as it is deeply uncomfortable at times. But it feels incredibly cynical to see people excuse all the atrocities he committed, or at least try to understand them, while they spent all of season one attacking characters like Mel for being ambitious and power-hungry, doing morally questionable things. Sorry, but none of Mel’s actions in season one even come close to Silco’s level of ethical depravity with the whole shimmer situation, yet Mel got dragged.

Vi—perhaps the series’ ultimate punching bag of suffering—who lost her parents, stepped up to take care of her sister, carried the responsibility of being the eldest (as tasked by Vander to protect the group), lost her "siblings" and "father" in one night, got wrongfully imprisoned as a kid, spent years in jail for nothing, only to come out and see that her sister had turned into a monster and that the man responsible for their adoptive father’s death was now the kingpin of the Undercity—was treated like absolute crap by the fandom. Why? Because she didn’t understand or accept that her younger sister was suddenly cool with a man who was poisoning the city? The same man who killed their father figure? I remember people calling Silco the "Father of the Year" and Vi the "Worst Sister of the Decade," and I was genuinely floored. Like, as a meme, sure, it’s funny. But as an actual take? The level of cognitive dissonance is wild.

And now, in this season, of course, the hate is all directed at Caitlyn. Why? Because instead of being the idealistic nepo baby who dreams of coexistence like in season one, she’s dealing with severe PTSD after being kidnapped and witnessing a missile nearly obliterate her mother. And people just can’t seem to grasp that. They can understand a man going from revolutionary to drug lord, using the idea of freedom and the people’s anger to expand his shady business and exploit children, but they can’t understand a young woman becoming incredibly violent out of a thirst for revenge.

What these reactions tell me is that men can be the absolute worst scum narrative writing has ever birthed, and it’s fine because everyone will bend over backwards to understand their motivations or at least where they’re coming from. But if we’re talking about women who aren’t compliant, who overreact, who struggle to manage their emotions or trauma, or who don’t behave the way women are "supposed" to behave, there’s no room for understanding. No excuses, no empathy. They’re just bitches, villains, or—like people are now saying about Caitlyn—"fascists."

Look, the fact that people are calling Caitlyn a fascist while never using that term for Silco—who was literally a despot—isn’t just cognitive dissonance; it’s hypocrisy at its finest.

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 16. Rescue

Prev - Masterlist

Content: giant/tiny, cages, pet trope, power dynamic, home invasion, guns, death threat, fear of heights, being mocked

Pov: Soap Scrub

Poll Winner: Pet liberation rescue

Note: The last chapter ended up being over 7000 words so I decided to split it into two parts so there will be another chapter after this one :)

Special thanks to @alittlewhump for helping me edit <3 thank you

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!

—

The weeks blur together with no chances to escape. You’ve almost stopped trying. Ashley doesn’t leave any cracks or openings to even think about slipping past her. You’ve stopped looking for them, too tired to keep up with being constantly alert. 

The days are mostly the same. Ashley spends a lot of her time at work, and when she gets home she usually coddles Hamster and leaves you alone. Thankfully. Maybe she’s gotten bored of you, only using you for her photoshoots. You’re just another prop to her.

Sometimes she brings friends over who all coo over Hamster, and often torment you. None of them will help you either. They don’t seem to like your bitter attitude. That’s not how pets are supposed to act apparently. 

You can’t tell if you’re successfully talking Hamster into freeing you, or if she enjoys keeping you locked up as much as Ashley does. Every time you mention anything Hamster shakes her head and stares at you with that stupid love struck smile on her face. You would think you could use her crush to your advantage, but so far it just makes her more reluctant to let you go. Being mean to her doesn’t work either because it puts you on Ashley’s bad side, and you end up being isolated. So you opt with trying to get Hamster to side with you. 

You’re afraid the plan is a lost cause, but all you can do is keep working on getting Hamster to help you. She’s interested in meeting more people your size, so that's what you usually tell her about in hopes she’ll get curious enough to go with you someday. 

Tonight is like any other. Ashley has Hamster cuddled up to her on the couch while they watch a sappy romance movie. You’re as hidden as you can be inside the cage, but admittedly you’re also watching the screen from an angle since the t.v. is in view from the kitchen counter. 

The movie is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door. Ashley gets up to put Hamster away in her cage, walking over to answer it.

The door flies open, almost hitting her as she springs backwards. Three masked strangers rush into the house, surrounding her. One of them grabs her from behind with a gun pointed to her head, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Scream and we’ll shoot,” they hiss into her ear. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! 

You nestle down further into the bedding, but you have nowhere to go if they want to grab you. It's hot and suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe under the weight of it smothering you. 

Looking through the haze of the fluff you see Hamster staring openly with no cover. Making herself an easy target with her mouth gaped open in shock. She doesn’t move. She makes no attempt to hide herself at all. 

Stupid girl! 

She takes a breath to scream and your whole body clenches, trying to ready yourself to be noticed.

When Hamster shrieks, Ashley struggles and begs them to leave Hamster alone. Ashley is immediately shoved out of sight by two of the humans while the third looks to see where the source of the shrill scream came from. 

The intruder walks up to Hamster’s cage, and when they see her they pull their mask down to reveal a pale freckled face. Concern written all over it. “Hey. Shh, it's okay. We’re not here to hurt you. I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”

Hamster scrambles back, tripping over fluff. She reaches her arm out towards the room Ashley was forced into, and looks back to the human while bawling. The message is as clear as usual, that Hamster wants Ashley. 

“She’ll be okay. I’m sorry you can’t see her, but they won’t hurt her. I need to know where the other boy your size is.” The human makes no moves to give Hamster what she wants. 

Hamster’s wide eyes flick towards your cage, and she shakes her head. It’s too late, the human already knows that’s where you’re hidden and peers through the bars to try to find you. Their brown eyes search every corner of the cage as their voice overwhelms you. “Hey. I’m here to help you. Are you in there?”

They must see you shaking because their gaze is concerningly close to where you’re hiding underneath the bedding. You don’t believe them for a second and refuse to move from the spot to let them know where you are. 

One of the other humans pokes their head out from the hallway, and says, “They’re in the cages. Just the two.” 

You’re a fool to think you could go unnoticed at this point. Dread trickles throughout your body, and you have nothing to grab onto to steady yourself. Nothing but white fluff between your fists. 

The human next to you nods once, just a flick of their chin, then picks up both of your cages by the handles at the top. Your stomach churns from the sudden shift of gravity. You cover your mouth with your hands to stay quiet, but Hamster has other ideas. She’s wailing pitifully and the human’s words of reassurance do nothing to stop her. 

You’re both royally fucked. 

Ashley scares you, sure, but you know how much worse it could be. So, so, so much worse. Ashley can be cruel, but she’s not sadistic. Horror stories flash through your mind of humans who inflict pain for fun, and a rush of dizziness has you seeing stars. Suddenly the thought of staying with Ashley doesn’t seem so bad compared to what could be. 

The human takes both of you into the back of a van and places the cages down gently onto one of the leather side seats. They sit on the floor with their legs crossed, eye level with you and Hamster. They take their toque off, and underneath they have a curly blonde mohawk. ”My name is Ratty. I’m here to take you somewhere safe,” they repeat those words: Safe. 

It’s grounding in a way, being promised safety, but your skepticism has your heart pounding. There’s no way what this human is saying is true.

The van starts rumbling, and you’re being driven away that moment. The other two people are in the front seats behind protective glass, so its just Ratty in the back with you. 

The human in front of you already knows you’re in the cage, so you decide to face your fears and show yourself. You throw fluff away from you, and come out with the most defiant glare you can muster while your heart hammers against your chest painfully. “Let us go!” You growl, “You have to let us go, let me out of this cage!” 

“I promise I will. Hold on. Let me take a look at this.” To your surprise, they grab the lock that's on the cage door, looking at it lazily. “Are either of you hurt anywhere?” 

You shake your head instantly, in fear that this human might want to touch you with prodding fingers. You look over to Hamster to see if she answers the same, but she doesn’t answer at all. Instead she just stares in horror, stuck in place by fear. It’s that same look that made you protect her from that mouse. The same look that got you into this mess in the first place. 

You’re trembling, but seeing her even more terrified face prompts the next question. You ask it for her, to ease some of that panic, but you’re curious enough yourself to want to know. “W-what did you do to Ashley? Is she uh… Okay?” 

“She’ll be fine. No one hurt her,” Ratty says, almost sounding bored. 

“Why did you do that?! Are you the pet liberation?” You draw your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, “How did you find us?”

Ratty stops fidgeting with the lock and sits back to talk. “Yeah, we’re basically pet lib. Something like that. I saw your picture on her blog. It was hard to miss.” 

“Are you actually going to let us go?” A lump forms in your throat and you find it hard to swallow. 

“If that’s what you want, I promise I will. We can drop you off somewhere if you have a place to go. Or we can take you to a shelter if you don’t, but you can’t go back to Ashley, or you shouldn't anyway.” 

You frown slightly, testing. “What if we did go back?” 

Ratty shrugs, staying frustratingly vague. “I wouldn’t suggest it. Why? Do you want to?” 

“No,” you say flatly, “but she might.” 

Ratty looks to Hamster who’s now curled up weeping in the corner. “I understand,” Ratty says, “Are you two close? You and Hamster?”

Hamster nods just as you’re about to say no, and you realize there's a possibility of the two of you being separated. You don’t trust this human enough to take Hamster anywhere by herself, and you have no idea what they would do with her. “Yeah, she’s with me. So you can let us go together and I’ll take care of her. We’re not going back to Ashley.”

“Alright. Is there a place you want to go?” 

You think of a known landmark that's close enough to some people you know, and request that. An apartment building in town that you know the name of. 

“That sounds great,” Ratty says, distractedly, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I want to get you some supplies first, maybe some clothes. You’re both half naked, and from what I'm guessing she’s never been outside before…” 

You ask again with a frown, “How do you know all this?” 

Ratty shrugs. “Ashley posts a lot on her blog. Look, I really don’t feel comfortable dropping you two off on the side of the road with no supplies. I’m sorry, you’ll have to hang tight for a bit while I get you some from the store. We’ll be quick. Anything you want?” 

You glare at Ratty, but they’re right. Especially if Hamster decides to be difficult during the commute to your group of people. “I want a knife,” you start off with, testing. 

“Sure.” Ratty types that into their phone and looks at you expectantly, waiting for the rest of the list. 

You’re stunned at how seemingly compliant this human is, still feeling skeptical. You throw out a few more suggestions, wondering if there would be a catch to the request. “Hair ties, this size.” You hold out your hands to demonstrate. “Fabric, thread, plastic wrap, matches.” You list a few things from the top of your head, then add, “doll clothes.” 

“Gotcha.” Ratty types the rest up, and knocks on the safety glass to the front seat, asking them to stop at a store.

“Can you let me out already?” You ask impatiently. Ratty hadn’t made a move to take the lock off, and you are still trapped in the cage. 

“Uhh… I’m gonna be real with you, champ. If I let you out now I don’t trust that you won’t take off right away and get yourself killed somewhere in this van. I don’t want that on my conscience.”  

Your face grows hot, and you retort, “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

Ratty chuckles, which just adds to your anger. “No. I think you’re scared. Which is worse. I’ll be right back.” They change their shirt and put on a pair of glasses, altering their appearance well enough to not be recognized as the home invader from earlier. 

Light floods the room of the van as the human exits, then the door closes again leaving you still trapped with nothing but Hamster’s blubbering cries. 

You scoff loudly, “Well aren’t they a fucking delight.” You crawl over to Hamster. Her cage is right beside you, but you don’t know what to say. Your nerves are shot, and comforting people makes your skin itch. “You’re not alone, Hamster. Ashley didn’t get shot, she’s fine. So… Take a deep breath. I’m not gonna ditch you.” 

Staring into her cage, you wonder if you can get her busy. “You see that hammock? Take it down and roll it up with some food in it. We’ll need it if that human is telling the truth.” 

When Hamster doesn’t move you start snapping your fingers to get her attention. She startles, then moves sluggishly as if both your lives aren’t at stake right now. You sigh. This is going to be a long week of travel, especially if she slows you down.

Ratty’s back before long with a small bag of goods. “Anything I can help you do?” They ask as they show you everything. The clothes are a cheap brand- a little flashy for trying to hide in- but good enough for now. 

“Give me my knife,” you demand. 

Ratty slips a needle in the cage for you. It will have to do… They also break an exacto blade into manageable pieces for you to use.

The human helps you get all of your supplies ready, and you help Hamster with her clothes through the bars, wrapping her arms and legs in floral tape to keep them protected. You tie her hair back into a fluffy ponytail, and wrap fabric and plastic around her feet for makeshift shoes. The hammock is tied around her like a sash. 

You do the same for yourself and wrap as many of the supplies as you can fit into your own sash to bring with you. Ratty also gives you a tiny glass jar with water in it that you tie around your hip. It's heavy, but needed. 

You’re as ready as you can be and look for the human’s approval to let you go. With the way the human is smugly staring down at you with a soft smile you’d say they were pretty pleased with the way you both look. 

The van stops at your destination, and Ratty asks one more time, “You sure you’ll be okay?” 

“If you let me out of this cage, yes,” you huff. 

“Okay… Hold on. I’ll stand watch for a minute to make sure you’re safe too,” they assure you, and lift the cages out of the van. You have seconds to find your bearings, and watch to see what side of the building you’re on when Ratty sets the cages down next to some bushes. 

Ratty then flips the latches on the bottom of the cages to remove the whole top part of them. “I didn’t need to break the lock after all,” they chuckle. You were so caught up with the lock you forgot how these stupid cages even work. Fear really did cloud your judgement. 

It makes you uneasy how the human is treating this like a joke, but that doesn’t matter. You can practically taste the freedom. Ratty lifts the bars off the cage and you’re free.

You’re free!

You make a break for it. The wind hitting your face like cold water. You Sprint as fast as possible to Hamster, grabbing her by the wrist, running for the first cover in sight. 

Turning the corner you dive under some rubbish. Pulling Hamster against you. Covering her mouth to stop her from screaming. “Shh, don’t make a sound. Stay still,” you whisper, breathing quickly.

The human has their back to you as promised, and you only pray that this isn’t all a plan to use you as bait to find more tinies.

After an agonizing minute, the human leaves, taking both of the cages with them. You warn Hamster again not to make a sound as you take your hand off of her mouth.

She’s shaken but you don’t give her time to recover. You tell her to hold a leaf over her head so you two can run for further cover without being seen by anything that might see you as prey. 

You do the same, grabbing a leaf, and check if the coast is clear before running against the hard concrete along the side of the building. Your thoughts are racing but there’s no time to reflect on them. Right now you can only focus on getting somewhere safer. Your energy is being used to survive this trek. 

It's not long before Hamster starts to slow, and at this point you’re practically dragging her. She’s not used to physical labour, and admittedly you’re quite out of shape yourself from being locked up. You both end up kneeling over panting for breath behind a garbage can. You feel as if you’re about to throw up. “Fuck!” You swear under your breath. “We have to make it inside. It’s too dangerous out here.” 

There are still tears in Hamster’s eyes, which you don’t have time for. You assume this is going to be a constant with her. You wait for her to catch her breath, and continue running until you find a vent that leads to the inside of the building. You pull her in, and find a hole that’s been made to lead into the walls. 

Once you’re inside you collapse against the wall, sliding down against it until you’re on the ground. Your leg is throbbing, and your lungs are on fire, but you’re free. Hamster’s hand is still in yours, and she’s panting beside you. It's a good reminder that you’re both alive. 

Your nerves catch up to you, and you start to laugh. You can’t believe you made it out of that cage. You made it out finally. It’s unbelievably exhilarating.

You give yourself and Hamster a minute to calm down. Catch your breath. Let the shock wear off from everything that just happened before getting up again to continue on inside the building. 

There's pink fluffy insulation along the walls that has been pushed to the side to make an open hallway when you turn the corner. “Don’t touch that stuff,” you tell Hamster without an explanation. 

Hamster leans away from it and keeps holding onto your hand while you take her down the hallway. Eventually you reach a makeshift ladder that goes to the second floor of the building, with little ramps along the way to take breaks on. You never thought you would miss such a shoddily made structure. It's made out of various things: nails, wood, string. “We have to climb up this,” you tell her.

As soon as Hamster looks up to see how high it is she shakes her head and slowly backs away from it. Your jaw clenches in frustration. “I know you’re scared of falling but you have to.” Hamster doesn’t move, and her face crumples while she shakes her head harder. You can’t believe this is where she draws the line. 

Pinching your nose, you take a deep breath. You’ll have to wait this out until she’s ready. It’s probably the best time to take a break anyway- a proper break that is- now that you’ve at least made it inside. You sit down and do an inventory check while talking to her. “We can’t stay here all day, got it? You’ll be fine, just don’t look down and keep one hand on the bars at all times. Get ready to do that soon.”

Hamster curls up and begins crying again. Deep heartbroken sobs that wrack her whole body into uncontrollable tremors. 

If she really won’t do it, you’ll have to leave her for a night or two, and go get help. You would rather not though, it still isn’t entirely safe here. Especially with someone as naive to this world as she is.

When her sobbing doesn’t clear up you squeeze your eyes shut, really not wanting to be in this position. You’re not left with a lot of options, so eventually you sit down beside her and put an arm around her. “It’s okay Hamster. Really.” You hate this. 

Hamster looks at you, glasses fogged up on her tear stained face, then she grabs you into a hug. She pulls you against her and cries into your shoulder. You freeze, then slowly hug her back, tighter than you expected. You’re still shaken up from the whole experience, but you would never admit that you’re glad she’s with you. 

If you can calm her down, then you can convince her to follow you up that height. You wait for as long as you can, then get up. “Are you coming with me? At least try. If you really can’t do it you’ll have to wait here. Alone. If a rat comes by you’ll be screwed, so make your choice,” you tell her and give her one of the needles to defend herself with.

You don’t wait for her to hum and haw on a decision, and instead start to climb the ladder by yourself. Halfway up you look down to see her standing at the bottom, jumping from foot to foot as if trying to convince herself to follow you. 

To your astonishment, she slowly- one step at a time- starts to climb up the ladder after you. Thank god. 

It does take a lot longer than you had hoped. There's a lot of crying and freezing up, but she eventually climbs up with some coaxing. Once she’s at the top, you pull her onto the platform that leads to the second floor of the building. She hugs you tightly, trembling like a leaf, but you can tell she’s relieved to have made it. 

After a few more hours of slow travel you finally make it to a fenced in area that has a door with a latch to keep it closed. The area is large enough for a few people your size to camp out in with a roof over it. 

“We can sleep here tonight. It’s built to keep rats and stuff out of it so we’ll be safe,” you explain and drop your sash, grateful to have the extra weight off your leg. “Let’s see your hammock.” You help Hamster untie it and roll it out, collecting the food from it to put in a pile for dinner.

You feel uneasy being in a cage for the night after finally escaping one, but realistically you know the difference. Maybe it’ll calm Hamster down by being familiar to her. You’re both exhausted and don’t make much conversation while chewing on some dried seeds. Both of you are thankful to be sitting down, and done travelling for the night. 

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @voraciousvore

[mostlyghostlyy]

just watched longlegs. could u write a lil something abt longlegs being creepy and weird towards someone hes got a lil crush on. unwanted touches and incorrect social cues. just talking to him makes u feel violated.

Oh, he would be the WORST! 

I would imagine his crush would be fast acting. Like idk, you work at the hardware store, or local market where he does his shopping. He would interact with you once, then immediately develop an obsession with you overnight, if not that very moment. You’d start seeing him more. What turned into a once a week visit has become often an everyday occurrence.

I think he would immediately seek you out whenever possible. At first it wasn't uncomfortable, you could make small talk with him, even if he was a little unsettling. Although he seemed to be getting worse with every interaction. I'm not even sure if it's the inability to read social cues, or the complete apathy he holds towards them, but they would be scattered to the winds whenever he is talking with you.

Communicating with him would be hell. Tell him “Well, I really should get back to work.” or “have a good rest of your day” or subtle hints that you want him gone don't work. Turn away or start walking and he is following right beside you. Cross your arms and look disinterested and he will keep talking.  He is also a very touchy person, he will just grab you where he wants when he wants. Then pout if you slap his hand and yell at him. Multiple times he has reached to pet your hair. Sifting his fingers through and cooing about how soft and nice it was. He tries touching you whenever he can, grazing your arms, or occasionally touching your hips and sides.

He has started to stand close to you, way too close. Close enough to smell your shampoo. Which you can audibly hear him do. Long awkward pauses carry many of your conversations, this is unfortunate because you can hear everything he does. His heavy breathing, mainly through his mouth when he is not inhaling your scent. Huffs coming out in raspy blows, you notice that he starts breathing more and more heavily around you. 

The way he looks at you, you can tell he is fucking you with his eyes. His cold blue eyes roaming over your body, not caring if you knew. He is constantly staring at your tits, licking his lips before going back to smiling at you. If you were wearing anything other than a crew neck shirt, anything that even hinted at possible cleavage, or godforbid a plunging v-neck and he wouldn't be able to peel his eyes away.

He would make weird ass comments too. “You’re so pretty, you should come work for me instead.” or “You have such a nice voice, Angel. You should show me what else that mouth does.” Or just something that he blurts out and you don't know if he meant to say it aloud like “What color are your nipples”  or something of that nature. It is becoming harder for him to control his arousal with you, getting a boner multiple times throughout your conversations. I don't even think he would try to hide it because he's just that degenerate.

Kobble stalks around the store. Practically looming over you until you’re alone. And once you are, he's pretty much on top of you. Shuffling up to you and asking about your day, you keep moving away from him, walking backwards until your ass hits the corner wall. He's putting his hands on your waist now, pushing you further into the wall. “Please, dont. There are other people in this building, I-” He swiftly mocks your cries “We’re all alone in this corner, Angel. And besides-” You try pushing past him. He grunts, grinding his teeth. Shoving you back into the wall, he gives you a cautionary glare. “I’ll make you feel good.”

He slides his hands up to grope at your breasts. Pawing at them and playing with them through the fabric. You turn your face away from his sour breath as he chuckles. Soon he trails his hands under your shirt, under your bra. No barrier protecting your tits from his adventurous touch. You’re still squirming. “Do you like that? What's the matter? Don't want to talk to your old friend Dale? Oh but we are friends right?” He hums, mouth right against your ear. 

You feel something wet and warm pressed against the side of your face. It doesn't take you long to think “Oh god that's his tongue” You let out a little sob, which seems to encourage him. He's dragging his tongue from the corner of your mouth up to your ear. Then you feel the wet muscle probe your ear. He's lapping at your ear for minutes. Moaning into it, pushing his tongue as far down your ear canal as he possibly can.  Swirling around the lobe and biting. He’s biting so hard, trying to make your earlobe bleed. All the while still groping at your tits, squeezing them and running his thumb over your nipples. 

He pulls away, a string of spit connects him to your ear. your ear is damp with saliva and probably blood too. Kobble wipes his chin, and lewd smile on his face. He promises to come back tomorrow for round two.

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣’

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. truth or dare doesn’t go according to plan with friends, now you’re forced to humilate yourself infront of your dream guy.

wc . around 1,133

tags fluff. suguru geto x reader. populargeto! x reader. alternative au. non-curse au. highschool au.

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡･::･ﾟ

Squealing and giggling erupts from behind you as you peer past the lockers to look at… him.

In your school, there were the two clear hottest guys, no questions asked, no doubts raised. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru being the hottest guys in school was a straight up fact. Gojo is notorious for his swarm of fangirls who practically bend over backwards for his attention. On the other hand, Geto's admirers are more reserved, content with hushed whispers and longing glances at his undeniable beauty.

Sure some eye candy is nice to look at here and there in the corridors after a long depressing school day, but Geto isn’t just a piece of candy to you. He’s a beautifully sculpted man with luscious raven locks, gracefully tied up into his sexy man bun. Geto stands at a staggering height of six foot three; his presence you could practically feel, his presence lingers even after he's gone—a mature, grown aura that captivates. And it doesn’t stop there because his voice is something else. Dreamy, gentle, manly, deep, silky. Simply eargasmic.

You’ve grown up to be somewhat decent. You’ve finally got that hair thing down and your shape is finally pulling through. It’s not that you were hideous. Heavens no. It was just slightly hard for you to feel confident in yourself when you’re crush was that and you were well, you.

But the real kicker, the thought that nags at you constantly is the fact that you’re a year younger than him. It was well known that Geto Suguru would only go for older girls and settle for those in the same year as him. And here you are, a year below, hopelessly smitten.

Every time you see him you’re melting and you can't help it. You’ve tried picking yourself up from this “crush” because it was written in the stars for the both of you to be apart. But according to fate, it was destiny for you to meet.

Fast forward to last week, getting drunk at your friend's house, the day rolling into the obscure night and the drunken giggles rolling past your lips, sobriety now far gone between you and your friends. The night seems to come to an end, that is until one of your friends gains the clever idea to play the game of truth or dare. At first, all is smooth sailing until your turn and your foolish decision to pick a dare.

“I dare you to go up to Geto tomorrow and tell him a total of three pick-up lines.”

Back then it seemed like a piece of cake, confidence was surging through you, ebbing and flowing through your veins. “Just walk up to him? I do that in my dreams, how much harder could this be?”

So much harder. It’s almost as if you’re going to throw your heart up with how much leaping it’s doing. You switch from balling your hands into fists and stretching them out again, relieving them of their tension. Thickly, you swallow once more, your friend Hanna growing impatient.

“Listen, if this dare doesn’t get done I will be posting that picture of you .” The issue with what Hanna has just said is that she does have quite a few followers and th possibility of most of the school laying eyes on that picture of you. You shudder.

“Okay. I’m going in,” you state, gathering all your courage and taking a prideful step forward to the boy standing near the window in the hallway. With a step forward you immediately scurry back into your hiding place. Your friends collectively groan at your cowardice.

“It’s okay girl, we’re your friends.” Hana says, holding you in a hug, “which is why we need to give you a push.” Suddenly you’re being shoved halfway into the hallway, there’s no escaping now. You don’t even have time to scowl at Hana, especially now that your body has switched into fight for flight, moving on its own accord.

You never thought the day would come when you would be so close to your upperclassman, all up in his glory, it was truly a moment to cherish. The sun shines down on his relaxed face, a strand of his jet-black hair swiftly falling in front of his deep eyes. He seems even more charming up close.

“Can I, help you?” he asks and you’re snapped back into reality. Great way to start by looking like a lost puppy.

“Geto right?” your question comes out broken and unsure. The guy doesn’t even verbally respond, he just nods slowly.

“You look so familiar like the man of my dreams? Oh, wait u are. ” That didn’t even sound like a pick-up line, sounded as if you were genuinely wondering. Pure terror fills your body upon noticing Geto’s frozen and perplexed expression. Again, your body just seems to be working on its own, “I think there is something wrong with my eyes. I can’t seem to take them off you.” This is followed by another treacherous and painstaking silence for a response. With a deep breath, you shamefully utter the last one. “Are u a fireman because you came in hot and left me-“

“WOAH. Let’s pause on that.” the guy shifts from his stance from leaning against the wall to standing more upright. You’ve shocked this man to his core. Pure dread fills your body and you seem to sink into yourself in shame. This was utterly humiliating.

“I’m sorry.” you squeak, keeping your head down and spinning on your heels ready to sprint yourself out of the country, but a strong force stops you from going any further. I hadn’t taken long for the boy to realise you had been sent by your friends from behind the lockers. He felt remorse for you. Spinning you around on your heel, with just his hand on your wrist, you’re pulled closer. Only slightly; you still notice.

Precariously and teasingly he looks behind you at your friends, before redirecting his attention to you. “How do you spell me?”

This surprising question snaps you out of your trance.

“Wait what? M-E.”

“Wrong.” his lips pull into a playful smirk, yet your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“M-E-D.”

“M-E-D? but there isn’t a D is Me.”

He pulls closer, leaning towards your ears and savouring the moments of emptiness and silence “Yea not yet.” he chuckles lightly and pulls away. It's embarrassing how long it takes for you to understand the joke, but once it clicks, well the realisation is evident on your face as it flushes in embarrassment. The languid boy winks and walks away, “Loved meeting you pretty girl,” he calls out as he walks away, his voice carrying down the corridor, “hope to see you soon.”

Oh. Well, that was unexpected.

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡

not my best work icl.

[beachbabe000]

How Did This Happen // Chris Sturniolo One Shot

Summary: It's y/n's birthday, which they never celebrate. They finally go out for their birthday one night, and things take a turn in a way that wasn't expected

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

My heels clicked on the floor beneath me as I looked around the club trying to find my friend. Matt was supposed to meet me here an hour ago. This club is so busy though he probably got lost. I pull at my tight black halter dress that has been riding up since I left the house. By the time I left I didn’t want to change. I don’t usually wear things like this, but tonight was a special occasion, my birthday. Yeah, yeah, the cliché go out on your birthday. I know. But I also never go out either. This is the first birthday I’ve ever really done anything for myself or celebrated. Matt insisted we do something fun this year after he heard that I never do.

I met Matt a year ago now. We’ve been good friends since, the friendship just kind of happened and flowed into what it is now. His brother Nick is cool, though we never really had a close relationship blossom. His other brother Chris on the other hand, we never really got along. We both just annoy the hell out of each other. It is what it is.

I finally see Matt sitting at the bar, looking around constantly, no doubt trying to find me. As I walk up to him waving, he breaks a smile and walks towards me. He embraces me in a hug, “Hey, Happy Birthday. How does it feel going out for once?” I smiled sheepishly. “Weird. Not sure how I feel about it yet.” I look behind him spotting Chris at the bar. His arms are spread behind him leaning on the bar as he sits on the stool. “What the hell is he doing here?” Matt looks back, “Oh. I’m not sure, he just wanted to come. No doubt he was bored and wanted to talk his head off to people.” He looks back towards me, “Want a drink? I’m buying.” His wallet was waving in front of my face. I smirked at him “Let’s do it boo.”

We get to the bar and I order a margarita. My smile huge as the bartender hands it to me. Someone leans up next to me, “You look good.” I could tell by the voice it was Chris. I look over with an annoyed look on my face. “Thanks. So do you I guess?” He’s wearing a red backwards cap, black jeans and his grey hoodie with a white t-shirt peeking out. Not much to it but I’d feel bad if I didn’t return the compliment. He smirks at me. “Happy birthday. Next ones on me.” He told the bartender looking from me to him. “Why? Don’t you hate me?” sipping on my straw. He looked me up and down. “Kind of hard to hate you when you look like that.” Smirking again. “Nauseating” I rolled my eyes. “You love it.” His tone cocky.

I start to get a little tipsy and head out onto the dance floor. Matt is with me and we’re dancing around to Cyclone by Baby Bash. My arms are above my head as my hips sway back and forth, my hair sweeping my shoulders as my head moves with my hips. All of a suddenl I feel two hands on my hips guiding me to the music with them. I naturally lean my head back on their shoulder as I grind with them. Just tipsy enough to not think about who it was and more so lost in the music and my buzz. “You’re a good little dancer.” I could feel the warmth of the mystery persons breath tickle my ear. My eyes instantly shot open, I pull away and turn around coming face to face with Chris. “What are you doing? Can’t you find someone else to pester?” He smiled at me, “I’m not pestering you. I’m dancing with you. Let loose for once y/n.” He raised his hands halfway from his sides and dropped them back down. Looking me up and down again a smirk still plastered to his face, he walks to me slowly and places his hands on my waist. “Come on, sway those hips again.” He pulls me closer into him as we dance front to front. I can feel his breath on my face as he’s looking down at me, eyes hooded. I start to go with the music again letting my front glide with his.

His hands begin to move down to my hips, pulling me closer to him. One of my legs are between his as I grind into him. My head leans back slightly and I feel his breath start to move its way down to my neck and a small kiss placed. “Chris” My hands find his shoulders to grip on as he dips me down a little for better access to my neck. He places a rougher kiss there before pulling me back up to face me again. “Yes?” He asks looking intensely into my eyes. “What are you doing?” He chuckles “Dancing.” I shake my head. “You’re not just dancing yapper.” The nickname I gave him out of annoyance a long time ago. “heh, I’m not yapping much right now am I?” His tone is becoming more husky. His leg between my thighs moves up more to grind into me. I groan and my breath hitches. I look around trying to find Matt. He’s sitting back at the bar talking to some girl, looks like he’s been there a while. Not paying any attention to what’s happening. He must have left once he saw Chris move in to dance, letting him off the hook. Surprisingly not weirded out that he would want to dance with me in the first place.

“He’s busy.” Chris nips at my neck pulling a small moan from me. The song switches to Peaches and Cream by 112. One of my arms is now around his neck as my other hand is on his arm that’s wrapped around me. We’re fully grinding into each other now. Another moan escapes my mouth as I feel a wetness form above his leg. “hmm am I turning you on?” He chuckles into my ear. I struggle to get out the words, “Shut up.” Before he pulls my hips closer, if even possible. This movement brings my warmth completely against the top of his leg and he moves my hips down to grind more into it. “Fuck, Chris, stop.” My hand squeezes his arm as he continues this motion. “Do you really want me to though?” To the outsiders eye it just looks like we’re dancing normally. To my eyes, I can’t even see right now. He then pulls away from me completely causing me to lose my footing from the sudden loss of contact. He catches me with his arms before I fall. “What the fuck Chris!” He stands me up as he chuckles to himself. “Come with me” He tilts his head towards a direction and grabs my hand.

I have no idea where we’re going as he pulls me in a random direction, but at this point I don’t care. I just want to feel him against me again. We come in front of a random door and Chris pushes it open. He locks the door behind him. It looks like we’re in some kind of supply closet. There’s no light and I have idea where a light switch is. Luckily a light randomly comes on and I see Chris moving his hand from a string hanging from the ceiling. “Hey.” He says as he moves towards me again. Before I know it his hands were under my thighs and I was straddling him against the wall behind me. “You never answered me, do you want me to stop?” His face was centimeters away from mine. I can feel the warmth coming from his mouth blowing against mine as he breathes his words. He looks from my lips to my eyes. “Ma?” He whispers against my lips, our eyes not moving from each other’s. After a few seconds of contemplation, which at this point, what am I even contemplating? “No” and with that one whimper from my mouth he dived in.

His lips were against mine in a heated hard kiss and his groin pushed into mine roughly. I moan loudly while sinking my fingers into his shoulders. He’s grinding into me over and over the stimulation enough to make me moan out “Chris if you keep going I’m gunna lose it” He bites my neck before letting me go and yanking up my dress. “Not yet ma.” He pulls down my red thong slipping my feet through the holes. Grabbing my thighs again he set my legs over his shoulders and held my hips keeping me against the wall. I can feel his breath on my pussy as he looks up to catch my eyes with his. Keeping eye contact he licks a trail up my lips bringing a long moan out of me. I close my eyes and lay my head against the wall. He brings his hand up to my folds and presses his thumb to my clit to rub circles. “Fuuuck Chris” He then sticks his tongue in my hole and tongue fucks me while keeping his thumb going on my clit. I moan nonstop at this point as he abuses my pussy. “I’m cumming I’m cumming!” I lock my hand on his curls and push him closer to my warmth. Finally, I feel my walls clench and my juices flow out into Chris’s mouth.

He stands me back on the floor, coming back up and wiping his mouth. “You good ma? Ready to go again?” I looked at him in disbelief. “Again?” He smirked at me. “Yeah again.” He unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down to his knees. I have no time to speak before he lifts me up around his waist again. “I’m not done with you yet.” His tip grazed my entrance. The feeling causing me to go lightheaded. “Well what are you waiting for then.” As soon as the sentence left my mouth, he slammed into me. “Oh fuck” I let out in a long moan. We sat there like that for a second, both getting used to each other. We looked at each other, finally realizing what was happening. Giving in he started moving. His thrusts were slow at first. “Chris, come on. Fuck me.” That seemed to send him over. His thrusts became faster. “You’re driving me crazy y/n” He whimpered out. “How has this not happened sooner.” He was struggling to speak now. “Just shut up and keep going.. Oh shit!” He hit a spot that really got me. With that response he knew where to go and kept hitting it. My moans were so loud, but no one could hear with the music and commotion happening outside the closet, so I wasn’t worried. My hand found the wall behind me as I grasped his shoulder for support. “Chris, I’m so close. Don’t stop oh god right there.” The thrusts he was giving me was pushing me so hard against the wall I was sure I’d have marks on my back after this. I felt my release come upon me, “I’m cumming, oh fuck Chris!” With that sentence my walls clenched around his dick. The feeling of my walls clenching sent him over the edge as well. We came together not parting. After a minute of sitting there and basking in each other’s juices he sat me back down and pulled out of me. His hand next to my head and the other on my hip, we caught our breaths. He looked up at me, my eyes soon meeting his. “We’re doing that again in the future right?”

I chuckled in response. “Hell yeah.” He smiled. “Don’t call me yapper anymore and I might let you cum again.” I smirked, “No promises.” His smirk met mine, “Then no promises on my end either. I’ll just edge you and not finish the job.”

[poraphia]

"Lead Singers Love The Attention."

clingy!wilbur x singer!reader pronouns: not specified! 998 words || 8.8.23 My first ever request from @ax-y10 ! I am currently taking requests, so don't be shy to drop some for me :))

He just can't get enough of you, even when you're about to go on stage.

♡♡♡

Picture this.

Your boyfriend, after months of touring the world with his up-and-coming band, has finally come home, but without even a week of quiet time together, you have to pack your things and kiss him goodbye because guess what? now you have to go on tour!

So, what’s the best solution to this predicament?

Well, bringing him along with you of course!

At first, I was reluctant. Throughout the late night facetimes and after-concert texts, he complained time and time again that he missed home and our friends. So, imagine my surprise as I looked up from my phone after some time scrolling away on the couch to see the tall man with a freshly packed suitcase and a determined look on his face.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Will–”

“I want to come with you!” He whined.

Admittedly, what he missed the most was spending time together.

We didn’t make any sort of public announcement that Will would be coming with me to perform besides an ominous tweet Wilbur decided to post on his private account. 

While we were waiting for our plane to be called, I was making phone calls to dismiss the hired guitarist and to let my tour manager know that Wilbur would be taking the role. My eyes happened to drift onto Wilbur’s screen, which read the simple text of “lol plane go brr” before posting it for his thousands of fans to see. With ecstatic eyes, he looked up at me. Eyes that read, “We’re going to have so much fun. I’m happy to be with you again.” It took a couple of times calling my name through the speaker before I snapped back from what spell he put on me. 

Fast forward, we were now in Brooklyn, New York, performing my first concert of the tour. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being back on stage in front of thousands of people or the double-shot espresso in Will’s morning coffee, but he was exhilarated.

Immediately after soundcheck, I found his arms constantly around me. Whether it would be his grip slithering around my waist and pulling me in like a snake lovingly squeezing its prey, to towering behind me with limbs draped over my shoulders and his steady heartbeat pressed against my back. It didn’t matter if I was by myself, talking to my manager, or on stage directing the crew on some small adjustments.

With the charming man that he is, I found nothing but comfort in his warm embrace. Every time I tensed up from stress or anxiety, he would bury himself in my hair as if he was quietly telling me, “I’m here, don’t worry.” And soon enough I would lean back in his touch, feeling his hands moving me closer and his heartbeat’s pace picking up. 

But now, it was time for my, or rather, our, first performance of the tour.

I stood on the side of the stage. The curtains were still closed to prevent anyone from getting a sneak peek of the set. Wilbur stood next to me, letting me use his hand as stress relief as I open and closed my grip on his fingers. My manager, looking at me from the other side of the stage, gave me a thumbs up, letting me know that the curtains will be drawing back soon.

“You ready, darling?” He asked, rubbing my knuckles with his thumb. With a deep sigh, I looked at him and smiled.

“More than ever.” 

His excitement pulled on the corners of his lips as he leaned down, holding a kiss right onto mine. I cupped his face with both of my hands, fluttering my eyes closed as anxious moths turned into fluttering butterflies in my stomach. Wilbur’s hand held tightly onto his guitar’s neck, careful to not let it bump into me, while his other hand rested on my shoulder.

Soon enough the stage countdown started playing in my ear monitor, meaning that the curtains were being drawn back. In an act of confidence, I slowly began walking backward onto the stage, but Wilbur was determined to keep his lips on mine.

Soon enough the sound of screaming fans flooded both of our ears as I felt the smile on Will’s face widen. I could feel thousands of eyes on us, but he was firm in his position. We were under beaming stage lights with my name shining in LED behind us, but even if there was an ecstatic crowd of thousands in front of us, only his loving touch can make me feel like we were in our own world. Like we were out past midnight on the sidewalk with only the streetlight putting us in the spotlight.

I pulled away to finally greet my crowd, but Will trailed after me, sneaking little pecks on the lips as I giggled. After what felt like a hundred more kisses for a six-foot walk, I grabbed the microphone off of the stand.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Brooklyn.” I chuckled. Wilbur leaned over my shoulder, almost dividing half of his height to get his mouth near the microphone.

“You know how a lead singer loves the attention, (y/n).” He said charmingly, causing another abrupt cheer from the crowd. Wilbur turned to look at me now. “Now let’s get this thing started, shall we?” He pressed one final kiss on my temple before placing himself in his designated stage spot. The other musicians I hired followed suit, and once it looked like everything was ready, I placed the mic back onto the stand while still keeping both hands wrapped around the handle.

“Welcome to the tour, Brooklyn!” I exclaimed. “I want to see you singing along, jumping, and most of all, having fun!” With one deep inhale I took in that concert energy that all these people embodied to cheer me on. There was nothing going to be in my way to give it all back to them.

“ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!”

♡♡♡

love my writing? more wilbur soot here!!

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[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astro pt 3.

Credit: @venuscnjunctpluto

(I’m on spring break and literally have 50 other things I should be doing but we’re back at it again folks😝)

Venus conjunct saturn women 🤝 men w mommy issues

The worst moon square moon beef I’ve seen is Taurus and Aquarius. Both won’t let it go like the Taurus moon thinks they’re making sense while the Aquarius moon wants to seem unbothered it’s a mess.

Taurus Venus people are so beautiful (ex: Victoria Monet, Ariana Grande, Leighton Meester, Cillian Murphy, Matthew Gray Gubler, plus my mom💕)

There are three types of Aquarius risings: one who walks around in pajamas and chokers, one who is legit a model, and the one who wears graphic t shirts and multiple finger rings)

Also I notice a lot of aqua rising women love dressing masculine (ex: Zendaya, Nicki Minaj, and Aaliyah) if you see a girl w her pants sagging with her hat turned backwards w every color of the rainbow on. just know she’s a aqua rising.

Sag Venus women are bisexual ex: Erica Mena, Nicki Minaj, and me lol

Most kpop stans have libra placements and this is coming from a libra moon

Underdeveloped Men w Fixed sign placements are such incel. Leo esp mars when their ego gets hurt they cannot take it. Aquarius thinks they’re too good and smart for women so they can’t understand why no one wants to be around them. Do I even need to explain Taurus and Scorpio?😭

Pieces Venuses are down bad ex: the men crave a manic pixie dream partner and when they can’t live up to the natives fantasy; they cheat. The women are usually loyal but they are blind asf and will neglect and abandon their relationships w others just for their partner who may or may not be trash. On a good note; they are very very very giving in relationships and so sweet but just because y’all can give doesn’t mean you have to constantly.

Brent faiyaz and Jungkook have Scorpio Mars😮‍💨 I don’t know what it is but I wanna date one so bad. What’s y’all experiences?

Certain signs and placements date people w similar charts. Like I notice Taurus suns usually date eachother bc who else is about to put up w them (just kidding…no I’m not🙂) also Scorpio placements (ex: future and Ciara, Megan fox and machine gun Kelly, Karruche and Chris brown…these are terrible examples😭)

As far as Venus conjunct ascendant synastry…I honestly only feel the tension when I’m the ascendant. Whenever my Venus conjuncts someone’s asc it doesn’t really move me like I don’t think they’re unattractive I just don’t really gaf. Their personalities are fun because my sag Venus and mars knows they can take a joke. I think Scorpio/8th house doesn’t really care too much about looks and appearances. In fact I notice Scorpio Venus men view the people they date as beneath them in some way and they do that to feel comfortable as if that person can’t get better and leave or cheat.

I always tell people I don’t have a type which I kinda don’t aesthetically but: Virgo rising, moon-Pluto or Scorpio moons, Virgo mars, Taurus suns w aqua moons, air venuses or mars, libra risings, Scorpio mars😚

Blueface and Chrisean have Venus square pluto synastry. When I say they are the most exaggerated example of this synastry it’s crazy. She clearly seems trauma bonded and believes she’s truly in love with this man (Venus). While he’s using her for money (pluto) and maintaining control over her at all times. That’s another thing w Venus Pluto synastry the venus person looks worse in the public eye because we’re always outwardly vulnerable (the good and bad) while Pluto doesn’t show just how insane they are overtly. But he’s the jealous one because peep how mad and aggressive he gets when she gets any sort of attention outside of him (ex: when Drake followed her and he twisted it to be related to him) Pluto really thinks they OWN the Venus person like that Brent lyric “they only wanna fuck with you cause they know I fuck with you” that’s their mentality. (They’re both physically abusive to eachother and need to breakup asap)

Also everyone talks about how much she’s changed for the worst since she got w him. Her missing tooth and getting multiple tattoos of that man. I’ve seen this guy w his Venus square his ex’s Pluto and he looked terrible while w her and when they broke up he got hisself together. My conjunction synastry took me from wearing bold colors to black for months😭

Sag placements esp Venus or mars men are bow legged asf

Lana Del Rey’s catalog is the epitome of 8th house stellium. Constant changes, a certain loneliness that doesn’t go away, learning and growing, but also never giving up hope.🦋

Cancer mars men and their pregnancy fetish…lil durk has like 5,000 kids and his ex India said that she wanted another baby because of how affectionate he was when she was pregnant.

A lot of football/soccer player have air mars. (Ex: mason mount, kylian mbappe, phil foden)

Women w sun-Neptune, Uranus, pluto may have terrible relationships w men bc of their relationship w their father

Aqua, sag, and cap placements are funny asf😭 I’m one of them and I don’t even try but people are always dying laughing around me

I’ve been in two “lust” triangles and both pairs had one Taurus placement friend and one Scorpio placement friend. The Taurus friend (literally both of them had birthday two days apart) liked me and had their Scorpio friend (one was a Scorpio Venus and the other was a Scorpio mars) spy on me or maybe they just offered😭 long story short the Scorpio friend ended up liking me in both situations I just✨felt✨ it. Taurus and Scorpio are both sneaky and possessive they have opposite energy and it’s very likely they could like the same people. It gets complicated because Scorpio is more likely to keep their crush a secret which can cause unintended overlap.

Capricorn mars: I don’t get mad like I rarely get upset😐

Us all hearing them yell behind closed doors and come out like nothing happened:

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building. I only own the characters Lola, Layla, and Reylynne , who are featured in this chapter.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: some violence, swearing, mentions of night terrors and death, parental neglect, mild angst, confusing feelings, crying, mentions of puberty

A/N: doing martial arts not only made me stronger, it made it WAY easier to write fight scenes lmao

also, this whole chapter takes place while reader and Luke are both seventeen

Angel.

Who knew one simple word could turn your world upside-down?

According to Luke, he’d said it because you resembled one. Though you made it clear you disagreed, he firmly stood by it. 

How could he see the offspring of death itself as an angel? He was truly a mystery at times.

Nevertheless, the nickname stuck.

.

.

.

“Hey.” 

Luke’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was walking up to where you were resting on a worn-down stone bench. 

You were both participating in sparring practice with the rest of the older campers. Unlike the basic sword-fighting classes that Luke hosted for demigods new to camp, these practices were cutthroat. Everyone wanted to prove themselves, and would do almost anything for glory.

“Getting tired already, Castellan?” you teased, scooting over so he could sit next to you.

Luke playfully rolled his eyes. “Not at all. You know I have an incredible amount of stamina.” 

You laughed. “Sure, sure.” You tightened your fingerless leather gloves, and picked up your beloved weapon. “I think I’m done resting for now. Who are you going to spar next?”

“You,” Luke said, as if it was obvious. “It’s been awhile since we’ve faced each other in combat, because we’re always on the same side.” 

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

The two of you walked to the center of the arena, and positioned yourselves about ten feet from each other. Luke raised his sword, his eyes burning with intensity. Even though he was your best friend, you couldn’t deny that it was terrifying to fight against him. He had incredibly fast reflexes, impressive strength, and an intimidating presence. 

You gripped your dual-ended sword so tightly that your knuckles turned white. At least your weapon of choice was almost as tall as you, which allowed you to stay far away from your opponent while still being able to attack. If you were desperate enough, you could throw it like a spear to catch him off-guard and disarm him while he was distracted. 

“Ready, angel?” Luke asked. 

Almost immediately after you nodded in agreement, Luke charged towards you, raising his blade and bringing it down in a deadly arc.

You deflected the blow with the right side of your weapon, and jabbed at his chest with the opposite end. He easily avoided it, and backed up a few feet, waiting for you to make the next move. 

“Come on, don’t go easy on me now,” Luke said, a teasing smile on his face. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, lunging forward and sending a stab to his abdomen. 

It became a constantly changing game of cat-and-mouse. When one of you became more aggressive and offensive, the other would play defense until they tired out their opponent. 

Many of the other demigods had already called it quits and left the arena, allowing you both to expand your range of motion. Eventually, it was just you and your best friend, alone in the ancient-looking arena. 

You were beyond tired. Your arms felt like they were made of solid Celestial Bronze, and your legs shook from soreness. You were drenched in sweat, which was not a fun feeling. But you refused to surrender, no matter how miserable you felt.

You brought your weapon down like a club, trying to hit Luke’s shoulder. He blocked it, but his sword flew out of his hands. Instead of retrieving it, he sent a swift kick to your sternum, sending you stumbling backwards. Before you could regain your composure, Luke had you pinned to the ground, one hand on your left shoulder and the other holding your wrists together. 

You silently thanked the Fates for the fact that the arena was empty. Otherwise, you’d never hear the end of it from the other campers. 

“I surrender,” you said quietly, your eyes closing as fatigue overtook you. “I’m too fucking tired to keep going.” 

Luke let go of your wrists and shoulder, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. He still hovered over you, but his expression was much gentler. 

“You alright?“ he asked, setting his sword down to help you sit up. 

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” you said breathlessly, trying to ignore the dizziness swarming your head. “I’m just fucking exhausted. You’re the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced, and I’ve fought a horde of young Cyclopes.” 

He laughed, “You flatter me, angel.” As soon as you were on your feet again, he wrapped a toned arm around your waist, surprising you. This was perhaps the most intimate touch he’d ever given you. Not that you were complaining though. It felt nice. “Now, let’s go get some food.“ 

“Best idea you’ve had all day.” 

________________________________________________

“Hey, you!” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Lola, a daughter of Aphrodite, looking at you pointedly. She was surrounded by her sisters and a couple daughters of Demeter. 

“I have a name, you know,” you said, standing up and putting a hand on your weapon’s condensed form instinctively. 

“Relax, I promise I’m not trying to hurt you,” Lola said. “Come on, sit with us.” 

You mentally weighed your options. The worst they could do was mock and belittle you, charmspeak you into doing something stupid, or curse you with a bad makeover. And if they did, they’d definitely be caught. Chiron would give them kitchen duty or stable cleaning duty, which would undoubtedly mortify them.

So instead of choosing the stereotypical “I’m-edgy-and-introverted-so-I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-anyone” option, you walked over to where your fellow demigods were congregated.

“Hi,” said a girl you recognized as a member of Cabin 4 (Demeter’s cabin). “I’m Katie Gardner.”

“Nice to formally meet you,” you said, smiling slightly. “I’ve seen you around, you’re in charge of the strawberry-picking, right?”

She nodded. “Yep. And you’re…Thanatos’s child, right?” 

You winced. “Yeah…yeah, that’s me.”

Her expression held no judgement, which made you relax considerably. Lola cleared her throat, diverting your attention to her.

“So, you know Luke Castellan, don’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine. Why do you ask?”

You didn’t really need to add the last part; you already had a good guess as to why she was asking. 

You and Luke were now seventeen. No longer were you awkward young teenagers who’s proportions never seemed to match up properly. You felt well-adjusted to your more mature body, glad to be rid of the abomination that was puberty. 

Luke looked quite different than when you’d first met him. He’d been a slightly scrawny, cute teen with a sweet smile and wavy brown hair. His hair had become curlier, his figure was more muscular thanks to his rigorous training schedule, and he’d become much more confident in himself. Though his ego was a bit irritating at times, it did add to his charismatic personality.

It was no surprise that people had begun taking romantic interest in him. 

Lola smiled, showing off her pearly white teeth. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

You shrugged. Honestly, you hadn’t really spent much time analyzing his appearance. “I guess so.”

“So then why haven’t you started going out with him?” 

“Excuse me?”

One of Lola’s sisters spoke up. “Hon, you and Castellan are like two peas in a pod. I rarely see you apart.“

You bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the grass. This was perhaps the most awkward conversation you’d ever had. Well, besides that one time you had to explain to Luke why you felt like your stomach was being stabbed by invisible knives for days on end.

“That’s because he’s my best friend,” you say quietly, hoping that nobody else was listening in. If this conversation got around, it would cause a lot of unnecessary gossip. “He’s the only person who I trust with my life, and he trusts me with his.”

Another daughter of Aphrodite scoffed, playing with her perfectly straightened hair. “That’s ironic, considering that you’re literally the spawn of death itself.” 

“Reylynne!” Katie said disapprovingly. 

“It’s fine,” you said nonchalantly. “It’s true, I am death’s child. Anyways, my point is that Luke and I…we’re just…you know, really good friends. I don’t know how else to explain it.” 

“We just think you two would be super cute together, that’s all,” another of Aphrodite’s daughters chimed in. “Oh, I’m Layla, by the way.” She held out her hand, and you shook it gently. 

“I understand where you all are coming from,” you said as politely as possible. “But I don’t  like Luke that way. I don’t think I ever will.”

Reylynne smirked, which made you inexplicably nauseous. “Fine by me. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

“Reylynne!” Lola chastised, swatting her upside the head. 

You stood up, brushing the grass off of your leggings. “I better go. I have to help my cabin-mates clean up before the inspection later tonight.” 

“Alright,” Lola said, giving you a friendly smile. “Feel free to hang out with us whenever you want, ok?”

You nodded, hiding your shock. Giving them an awkward wave, you ran towards Cabin 11, glad to have finally escaped that extremely personal discussion. 

Even worse, it wasn’t really the topic of conversation that bothered you. 

It was the fact that it had planted a thought inside of your head:

you and Luke really would be a great couple.

________________________________________________

It was another sleepless night. 

You’d tossed and turned for hours before giving up. You simply couldn’t get your body to relax. There was far too much on your mind.

Even worse, the main subject of your thoughts was sleeping just a few feet away from you. 

You rolled over on your mattress to face Luke’s bunk, which was right next to yours. He was partially covered by his blankets, but you could still make out the old, torn camp t-shirt he slept in. His eyelashes fluttered sporadically, and his breathing was slow and steady. 

He looked calm, at ease. The sight made you smile.

If anyone deserved peace of mind, it was Luke.

You moved back into your back, closing your eyes once more. Maybe, if you tried really hard to clear your mind of any Luke-related thoughts, you could achieve a few decent hours of rest. 

Sure enough, drowsiness began to set in. Pulling your dark grey fleece blanket tighter around you, you prepared to enter Hypnos’s realm. 

But just as you felt yourself begin to drift off, someone whimpered beside you. 

Your eyes snapping open, you turned to face Luke, squinting in order to see him in the dim moonlight. 

He was clutching his sheets, his breathing had become heavy and frantic, and he was murmuring in an obviously panicked tone.

“Thalia, no! No, please don’t go, I can’t lose you again, let me die instead!” 

He was having a nightmare about the fateful night that he, Thalia, and Annabeth had arrived at camp. 

You knew how much he had cared for Thalia. They’d spent quite a bit of time on the run together, and developed a fiercely tight bond. He’d confessed that he’d started crushing on her at some point, but that never went anywhere because of her unfortunate demise. 

You felt like Khione herself had frozen you to your mattress. You wanted to wake him up and free him from his night terrors, but you also weren’t sure if you could properly comfort him. 

Still, you had to at least try. He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

As quietly as possible, you got out of bed and crept over to his mattress. You gently pulled the covers off of Luke, and gently shook him by the shoulders a few times.

Luke jolted awake, grasping his sheets tightly. Your heart tightened painfully when you saw the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Oh, Luke…��� you trailed off, not knowing what to say. 

“Angel,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “You okay?”

“You were having a nightmare. About the night you arrived at camp.”

Luke sat up slowly, hastily wiping away the tears that had begun to run down his cheeks. “Yeah…yeah, I remember now. Gods, it was horrible. I saw her get overpowered and injured by the monsters all over again. It was like everything was in slow-motion just to torture me.” 

You placed a hand on his forearm, rubbing soothing circles on his clammy skin with your thumb. “You’re okay, Luke. It was just a dream.”

“About a very real thing,” he added. “Thalia died because of me. I didn’t do enough to protect her.” 

Instinctively, you pulled Luke into a hug when he began to cry again. You ran a hand through his curls softly, hoping it would calm him down somehow. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” you said. “Blame the Fates. Blame Hades for sending the monsters. Blame all of the fucking gods. They have failed at properly protecting their children. You did everything you could’ve done. You got Annabeth to safety, and Thalia met a hero’s fate. Her memory will live on, as her presence strengthens the border that shields us from the mortal world.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. You sat there for what seemed like millennia, letting him cry against your shoulder.

Finally, he stopped trembling, and pulled away slightly. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I know it isn’t my fault, it’s the gods’ fault. I just…I just miss her. She was so funny, such a good fighter, and an incredibly loyal friend. She deserved so much better. You would’ve really liked her, I know it.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I’m sure.” 

“Thanks for waking me up,” he said, taking your hands in his. “I really appreciate it. Gods, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Me neither,” you admitted.

Luke yawned, removing his hands from yours to rub his eyes. “I think I’m gonna try to go back to sleep. You should get some rest, too. We have archery practice in the morning.” 

You smirked, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I know that look. You’re planning something.”

You can’t help but smile. “You know me so well. I’m thinking that we should sneak out of camp tomorrow. We can take a day trip, just the two or us.”

Luke grinned. “That sounds amazing.” 

“Great, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.” You pivoted to climb off of the bed, but stopped when he said,

“Wait…please, stay.”

And that was how you ended up sharing a bed with Luke Castellan for the first time. 

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!!

Also, I was scrolling thru the Luke Castellan tag and noticed someone requested a fic with daughter of thanatos!reader who also had wings. It’s probably a coincidence so it’s not a big deal, I just wanted to say pls don’t plagiarize or take ideas without giving credit (only if it isn’t an original idea ofc)

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[chaifootsteps]

I still can’t believe Solas let’s you live in his house rent free for the second game in a row, fights an Archdemon single-handedly for you, has the self restraint not to just vaporize literally anyone in his way despite absolutely having the power to, is constantly owning up to/trying to fix his mistakes, actively endangers himself for you regardless of how shitty you’ve been to him in both DAI and DATV, repeatedly bends over backwards to avoid unnecessary casualties, and we’re still somehow meant to think he’s an irredeemable bad guy.

He could literally just have gone all Big Bad Wolf and torn Rook’s throat out at the first opportunity and yet some damn how he chooses non-violent action/using his words when violence would unquestionably be the easiest solution. It’s bonkers that DATV expects you to hate him by default when he’s one of the only characters in game who appears to put any thought towards the consequences of his actions and clearly isn’t cool with pointless cruelty.

Even when he ‘betrays you’ he basically puts you in time out instead of just putting the dagger right between your eyes and calling it a day. Why am I meant to hate this guy again?

And he feels bad for betraying you! He feels bad every step of the way, he doesn't want to be doing this either, but he feels like he has to do this and he's absolutely right -- the Veil was a mistake, the world is a mess, and it's inevitable that it's going to come down one way or another, and all he can do is try to minimize the damage.

Solas could have killed Rook a dozen times over, but he didn't. Because he's a good guy.