#I will never get the hate on either of them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brittle-doughie · 3 days ago

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Orchestrated Arrival (Pure Vanilla Cookie)

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[Main Story]

Therapy Progress Note

Y/N Cookie has improved drastically since the last visit with me, being more lively and engaged with my questions and conversations. Their previous symptoms have since cleared up and appear to be back to normal condition. There was one particular thing of note was the incense they carry with them, but they’ve told me that it was just for personal reasons.

I ask that Y/N Cookie returns to me in a week to see if their progress continues to improve. Seeing their smile reminds me of why I chose this line of work.

- Chamomile Cookie.

———————————————————————

You looked up at your drawer mirror, that light in your eyes that wasn’t there before, giving you confidence that you were back. Back in control.

You look over to the incense that was in the burner, giving off that fragrance that you’ve welcomed into your life. You kept counting your stars that Golden Osmanthus Cookie was able to help with your…problem.

You kept inspecting yourself when you noticed that the smoke from the burner had stopped, looks like it ran out of incense. No matter, you open your drawer to get out the next one..until you kept reaching around in there and noticed there wasn’t any.

Well..that was okay, the other drawer also had more, you’ll just open that and get some mo-there wasn’t any in there either.

Now you really started to worry as you go through the drawers to try and look for where you placed the incense, unable to locate any as your searching grew more frantic. You were practically opening any cabinet or drawer and flipping them upside down to look for something, anything!

That hazy feeling in your head was slowing returning and along with it, came their voices again…

…

You: “Oh no…”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Yoohoooo~! If it isn’t my dearest little Cookie!”

You: “What?! You’re here already?!”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Aw, that’s no way to greet a close friend of yours~!”

You: “We’re not friends. I only allowed you to help that one time and you still had to go overboard with it!”

You sigh to yourself. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a crazy Cookie talking to thin air from an outside perspective.

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Tsk tsk tsk. I did as you asked, you never said HOW I should do it. Or did that not matter to you in the heat of the moment~?”

You: “Yeah, because I’m not as nuts as you are.”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Oh, Y/N Cookie! I’m so hurt~ There’s no need to get mad with little ol’ me~ Those three are still alive, right~?”

You only grumbled as you get up to head out the door, only for your hand to freeze up right as it was about to touch the doorknob, confusing you.

You: “What the…”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Believe me when I say that I hate doing this, but it seems you leave me with no choice!”

Your hand leaves the doorknob as you grabbed your arm with the other one.

You: “No way, it hasn’t been that long yet!”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Oh no, you see, I’m different compared to my…friends. Nothing you can do will deter me from you…”

You: “Get out of my head!”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Oh, but it’s just so snug in here! All of these feelings! All of these memories…you’ve been quite the busy Cookie longer than I expected!”

You: “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “If you don’t want to take a trip down memory lane, then listen to what I have to say, cutie~”

You: “……*sigh*..What is it?”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Surprise! You’re going to Beast-Yeast again! This time, to see the greatest show master across the land, me!”

You: “Of course it’d be that, as if your friends weren’t enough…”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Aw, don’t be like that. My acquaintances may be a little..intense, but I promise to you that they do care!”

You: “One of them tried to mess with my mind and the other gave me these invisible scars of sort. Is that caring to you? Not to mention that you tried to mess with my head too!”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Things might have gone a little off script, but I promise it will be different this time!”

You: “And if I say no-“

Shadow Milk Cookie: “THEN YOUR KINGDOM WILL SUFFER FROM YOUR CHOICE!”

You: “What?! You can’t do that! They have nothing to do with this!”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “You’ve forced my hand, Y/N~ I’d hate to hurt you much more, but I will have your little pals on strings if you say no~ I don’t need my puppets alive to toy with them~”

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A brief flash of an image coursed in your head. Your kingdom on fire. Houses in ruin. The grass was wilted as Cookies fled from the chaos.

There in the sky were Crowned Cupcake, Salsa, and Dumpling Cookie. Their limbs twisted and broken on blue strings, their necks…necks don’t bend that way…

The flash goes away as quickly as it came, making you gasp.

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You: “No, you can’t…”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Oh, but I will! So, what will it be? No pressure~”

You: “I….I…”

*KNOCK KNOCK*

???: “Y/N Cookie? Is everything alright in there?”

You snapped your head to the door to the voice on the other side of it.

You: “Dumpling Cookie?”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Tick tock, honey~”

———————————————————————

Dumpling Cookie: “Y/N Cookie? Are you..”

The door to your chambers opens as you step out, as you adjust your outfit with a determined look.

You: “I’m fine. But I have to go and attend to something. I’ll be back when I can.”

Dumpling Cookie: “What? This is abrupt of you, I can come along to assess the situation-“

You: “No need, I can handle myself.”

Dumpling Cookie: “Y/N Cookie, do you not remember what I said earlier? If anything is a problem, you can tell me…”

You: “Don’t you trust me that I can handle things on my own?”

Dumpling Cookie: “I’m not doubting you, but..I just wanted to know if you were okay…”

You: “I am, don’t you worry. I’ll see you around…”

You go and head off down the hallway. Dumpling Cookie wanted to reach out and go to you…but stopped herself.

You made your choice clear…

…

???: “Are they gone?”

Dumpling Cookie sighs as she looked to the side solemnly.

Dumpling Cookie: “Yes…”

Salsa Cookie and Crowned Cupcake Cookie step out of the darkness of the hallway behind her.

Salsa Cookie: “Good. We’re getting to the bottom of this.”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “It hurts me to see my dearest shun us out, we need an explanation from them!”

Salsa Cookie: “Don’t be too sad, Dumpling Cookie. Y/N Cookie is clearly hiding something from us and we’re going to figure out what.”

Dumpling Cookie: “I just feel like we could have waited for them to tell us on their own terms…”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “The more we wait, the more they could get hurt!”

Salsa Cookie: “Remember, this is for their own good…”

Dumpling Cookie still had conflicted feelings, right as she headed into your chambers alongside the two.

———————————————————————

Pure Vanilla Cookie: “Y/N Cookie, you’re here!”

You: “Y-yeah, here I am.”

Pure Vanilla goes to hug you close as the others head over, glad to see you return to the Faerie Kingdom after many months.

Pure Vanilla Cookie: “Are you okay? Are you well?”

You: “Yes, I am…well….”

Your eyes twinkle a certain blue.

You already regret coming here…

———————————————————————

“What do you mean you won’t hand over control of them?!”

“This wasn’t what we agreed on…”

“Oh please, my friends! You two had your chance with my dearest! Now it’s my time to shine with my special reunion with them~”

“And what if you fail?! We’ll be losing them again from the palm of our hands!”

“It will be a pity if it happens…”

“I’ve got this under control. It’s either us or their kingdom falling under ruin~! They’ll be in our grasp when I’m done with them~”

“You have better be right….”

“Yes, I can’t lose them again….”

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#cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #pure vanilla cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie

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loafysainz · 2 days ago

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The Royal Game | LN 4

lando norris!polo athlete x princess!reader

warn: mdni, lil bit smut, obsession

minor do not read it!

Royal Windsor Cup Final – one of the most prestigious polo tournaments in England, attended by royals and high society.

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have come. She had every excuse in the world to skip, but skipping wasn’t an option when you were literally required to show up. Royals didn’t do last-minute cancellations unless they wanted to end up on some scandalous newspaper cover.

Y/N hated this event. Well, not the event itself, but the fact that he was there.

But, here she was. Sitting front row, watching Lando Norris—golden boy of polo, the center of attention, and the one person she had been desperately avoiding for the past three months.

She hated him. Well—not hate-hate, but hate in the way where she couldn’t stand the way he looked at her. Like he owned her. Like he had every right to.

All because of that one night. One reckless night, a night she should’ve never let happen, he had become... obsessed. Not in the cute, romantic way.

He wasn’t obsessed-obsessed—okay, maybe he was. Threatening her every time she ignored him, showing up where she least expected, sending flowers, notes, even slipping past security once.

And now, here she was, sitting in the royal box, pretending to be invested in the match while Y/N sucked in a breath, keeping her focus locked on the field. Lando was good. Annoyingly good. He rode like he was born in the saddle, his mallet connecting with the ball effortlessly, scoring point after point while the crowd roared. His confidence was unbearable.

And he knew she was watching.

Because every time he scored, he’d look up—straight at her.

Fuck.

When the match ended, Y/N wasted no time. Get up, smile, clap, and leave. That was the plan. Except—Lando had other ideas.

Avoid. Avoid. Avoid. She repeated in her head, dodging past the after-party crowd, sliding into the powder room like her life depended on it.

She took a deep breath, staring at her reflection. Five minutes. Just five minutes and he’ll be gone.

The door creaked open.

She stiffened. Another guest, probably.

Except—wrong.

Because when she turned around, Lando fucking Norris was standing there, blocking the door, his face completely unreadable.

“Lando—”

He stepped forward. She stepped back.

“This is the ladies’ room,” she said, voice smaller than she wanted it to be.

Lando tilted his head. “And you think I give a fuck?”

Shit. His voice was low. Dangerous.

She swallowed. “You can’t be in here—”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He took another step, eyes dark. Not playful. Not teasing. Just pissed. “Ignoring me like that? Pretending I don’t exist?”

Y/N’s heart dropped.

“You’re insane,” she whispered.

Lando chuckled, dark and humorless. “And you’re fucking delusional if you think I’ll let you keep running from me.”

He was in front of her now, hands braced on either side of her against the sink, caging her in.

Too close. Too much.

Y/N exhaled sharply. “You need to back off.”

Lando smirked. “Make me.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “I mean it, Lando. Whatever this is—it’s not happening.”

Silence.

And then, he laughed.

A slow, amused chuckle, like she’d just told him the funniest joke in the world.

Y/N’s breath hitched when his fingers suddenly tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

“I told you,” he murmured, way too close. “I don’t like to be ignored.”

Then he kissed her.

No warning. No hesitation. Just his lips crashing against hers like he had every fucking right to.

And maybe—just maybe—she let him. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel it.

The desperation. The frustration. The fucking obsession.

His hands were gripping her waist now, tighter than they should. The heat between them was suffocating, electric.

She gasped against his lips, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, like he needed to prove something. Like he needed to remind her exactly who she was dealing with.

Y/N pushed at his chest. He didn’t move.

“Lando—”

“I don’t care,” he growled. “I don’t care how long you avoid me. You’re mine.”

I will add the explicit scene later, and the warning will also be updated. Happy reading hope u like it!! 🤍

#lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x reader

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crazy-pages · 20 hours ago

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Speaking of which, the longer I've been around on this Earth the more I have started to notice what I like to call "motivated worrying". This is when somebody has legitimate seeming worries that an intervention might actually make things worse, but there's secretly a pattern to the things they're worried about.

With healthcare, you will find a lot of centrists who are worried that universal healthcare will be too expensive and the taxes involved will actually make people worse off on average. Similarly, you will find centrists who are worried about harm reduction drug programs increasing the number of addicts. Who are worried that if you give money to homeless people, they will use it on drugs and actually end up being worse off. They will be worried that increasing the corporate tax rate will grind the economy to halt.

And the thing is, even the more obviously incorrect worries will appear to come from a sincere place. They might actually come from a sincere place. Now if they bothered to look up any of this stuff, whether that means taking a detailed look at iniversal healthcare programs around the world or looking up the data on homeless aid interventions, but even that can be justified. Most people don't look up this stuff all the time.

But the key thing which makes motivated worrying disingenuous is what gets worried about.

It doesn't take long to notice when talking to a centrist, if you are paying attention, that this worrying never gets applied to the existing status quo, or to actions which might help marginalize people either. Centrists will worry until the cows come home about whether it's "safe" for trans students to participate in sports ... but not about if it's safe to pass exclusionary laws targeting people who frequently experience hate crimes. They will worry about if a left-wing party pandering to progressives might lose them conservative votes, but rarely about if pandering to conservatives will lose them progressive votes. And when it comes to things they don't want to do anyway, the worrying never gets resolved. It never becomes something which is worth looking into.

This can be very subtle because these worries often concern legitimate possibilities, or at least things which could understandably be seen as legitimate possibilities. And most people at some point go through a phase where they are worrying for a problem but haven't yet sunk their teeth into understanding it. The trick with centrism that this phase of worrying about something without having resolved that worry gets stretched out forever, and applied to every positive intervention under the sun.

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ms-demeanor · 17 hours ago

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Regarding the last ask you answered: personally, my main problem with osteopathy is that, bc it can sometimes relieve some pain short term, it might delay actual treatment of it. While there is more of a medical training compared to chiropractors, they're not doctors either. Pain relief is important, of course, but it could lead to patients not seeking further care, and delays in diagnosis/treatment can have a significant negative impact in the long term. In my country at least, I've heard many people regularly go to an osteopath to relieve a pain that would come back after a few weeks, and it genuinely angers me so much, bc osteopathy can never actually help them get better. But osteopaths here are cheaper than specialised doctors, which is part of the reason why people go to them probably.

A lot of this is going to vary by country because of the different regulations that different countries have - I don't think that sort of thing is as likely to happen in the US because in the US osteopaths are very very very much not supposed to treat symptoms without treating underlying causes - but I can't speak to other places.

It kind of reminds me of how in Germany homeopathy is essentially considered mainstream medicine and is treated as such - different places, different attitudes.

But yes, if someone is not getting care because their provider is using their alternative specialty to gloss over a serious issue, that's extremely shitty and I hate it.

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xoxochb · 24 hours ago

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( how does one begin a request? If I could have your attention madam, please take my request into consideration)

Outdoor sex with Percy. Beaches. Lagoons. Sand banks. No where is sacred

he’s so silly hello

nsfw below the cut!

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“what’re you doing?”

you squint your eyes in suspicion. percy’s gaze meets yours. his finger stops in its motions looping around the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

“nothing, sweet girl, keeping reading your book.”

you place your bookmark between the pages and put the book down beside you with a sigh. “you’re distracting me.”

you lay your back down against the towel and make yourself comfortable. the scalding heat from the sun shines along your skin. thankfully you had put sunscreen on. unfortunately, you hate the smell of it.

percy tugs at your bottoms. “can I take these off?”

your brows furrow. “we’re out in the open. anyone could walk by and see my without bottoms.”

“I’ll take mine off too then.”

“no. go ahead.” frankly, nobody came to this portion of the beach anyways. and it was far too hot outside for you to care if anyone were to anyways.

percy begins to slide your bottoms down your legs. suddenly it had become unbearably hot outside and you regret saying yes. then again, you’d never regret saying yes to having his fingers inside of you.

you take a large inhale before they do. though as your boyfriend was half god you’re sure you’d never get used to just how heavenly he could treat to you.

or maybe it was just because percy was percy.

but either way, the moment he had inserted two calloused fingers inside of you, you were at his complete mercy.

from the moment his fingers would touch you anywhere you would have given up your life for him. he always touched you with delicacy and never anything but that.

they do the same while deep in you, diligently giving you the pleasure you need whilst assuring that you are comfortable.

his entire presence felt like that.

while his digits elicit moans, you attempt to stifle them. at any given moment there was the slightest chance that there could be someone lurking nearby.

you wish to scold percy for getting you into this but you’ve lost your capacity to comprehend full sentences, let along speak them yourself.

but you will retaliate for this, that’s for sure.

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse #riordan universe

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anticipatedexhale · 2 days ago

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Can you do the arcane characters with a s/o who is obsessed with their looks and how they’re perceived to others?

Hellooo <3 ofc I can!!

Just a disclaimer u are absolutely gorgeous and wonderful just the way you are! Inside and out! Don't let fake standards and false words put by society get to you please, love yourself just the way u are because although it's the hardest type of love to achieve it's also the most fulfilling<33

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Wish I could be like you, but I’m not that cool.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, sevika

☆ ◞ summary: when you care too much it starts to backfire on you, when you think you lost everything they are right beside you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, tons of bad talk about ones body and self, insecurities that may be triggering you some so please be careful while reading.

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been confident—he knew who he was, what he stood for, and never really cared much about what others thought of him. So when he started noticing how much you worried about your looks and how people perceived you, it caught him off guard.

At first, he thought it was just normal self-care. Everyone liked to look good, right? But then he started picking up on the little things.

The way you’d constantly check your reflection in any shiny surface you passed. The way you’d subtly adjust your outfit over and over, as if trying to perfect it. How you’d bite your lip and glance around nervously when someone so much as whispered near you, convinced it was about you.

And when you two were out together? Forget about it. You agonized over every detail—your hair, your posture, your expressions. Always making sure you were just right.

Jayce hated seeing you stress over it.

One evening, you were getting ready for an event, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the fiftieth time, inspecting yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

"Does this look okay?" you asked for the third time in ten minutes. "Maybe I should change. Do you think people will—"

Jayce sighed and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you away from the mirror.

“Babe,” he said softly, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why does it matter so much what other people think?”

You hesitated, looking down. “I just… I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. People talk, Jayce.”

His expression softened. “I don’t give a damn what people say. And you shouldn’t either.”

You sighed, but he wasn’t done. He cupped your face, tilting it up so you had to look at him.

“You’re already perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, how your hair looks, or what people think. They don’t see what I see.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “…And what do you see?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Someone incredible. Someone who makes me laugh, who makes me proud every damn day. Someone I’d still be crazy about even if you walked into that party wearing mismatched shoes and a potato sack.”

You let out a startled laugh, rolling your eyes. “A potato sack?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Yep. You’d still be the best-looking person in the room.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “…You really don’t care?”

“Not one bit,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. Not stressing over what a bunch of nobodies think.”

His words hit deep. And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed them.

Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t need everyone else’s approval.

Maybe Jayce’s was enough.

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Mel Medarda.

Mel had always been surrounded by high society, where appearances were more than just about beauty—they were about power, influence, and command. She’d been taught from a young age how to control the room with a well-placed smile, a confident stance, and the right attire. But while she had mastered the art of fitting into the expectations of others, she’d never let them control her.

When she first noticed your obsession with your appearance—how you would fret over the smallest detail, constantly worry about what others thought, and always seek validation from the people around you—she didn’t rush to correct you. Instead, she observed, trying to understand why it mattered so much to you.

One evening, you were preparing for another event, this time a gala held by Piltover’s elite. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes darting between your reflection and the wardrobe full of options, your fingers pulling at your hair, your expression one of deep dissatisfaction.

“Mel,” you said, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m just not—”

She stepped into the room with the effortless grace she was known for, her gaze soft yet intense as she approached you. “You’re just not what?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know… I feel like I don’t belong here,” you confessed, your hands wringing together. “I keep thinking about what people will say when they see me. What if they don’t think I’m… enough?”

Mel’s brow furrowed as she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, turning you to face her fully. “Let me ask you something,” she began, her tone serious but tender. “Why do you care so much about what they think?”

You looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because if I don’t look a certain way, if I’m not perfect, I feel like I won’t matter.”

Mel took a deep breath, stepping closer to you, her hands gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze softened as she studied you for a moment, her fingers brushing the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “You are already more than enough. I’ve seen you, not just with your looks, but with your heart, your intelligence, your strength.” She smiled softly. “You think people are only judging you based on how you look, but the truth is, they want to see you. They want to know you—the person who carries themselves with such grace and confidence, the one who makes them wonder how they missed such brilliance.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to fit into others' expectations. To be what people wanted me to be,” Mel continued, her eyes locking with yours, unwavering. “But I realized that I will never be happy that way. And neither will you. So stop letting your worth be defined by others. You have everything you need inside of you already.”

You blinked, the warmth of her words washing over you. “But… I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

Mel gently cupped your face, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Then let me remind you every day how much you mean to me. You’re perfect just as you are.”

You swallowed, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

With a soft chuckle, Mel pulled back slightly. “Good. Now let’s go out there, and when they look at you, let them see the amazing person I see.”

And as she helped you get dressed, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Mel never pressured you to be anyone else, but she also knew how to help you realize that you had more power than you gave yourself credit for.

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Viktor.

Viktor’s perspective on beauty had always been one of deep pragmatism. His entire life had been about improving, evolving, and focusing on the mind’s capacity to achieve, while the world outside often seemed obsessed with superficial qualities. He’d never cared much for what others thought of him or how he looked. But when it came to you, it was different.

He’d noticed, more and more, how often you seemed preoccupied with your appearance. You would spend hours before a mirror, adjusting your clothes or making sure every strand of hair was in place, always worried about what others might think. Sometimes, even after all the effort, there was a quiet dissatisfaction in your expression, and it made him wonder how much you truly believed in yourself.

One evening, after a long day of work, Viktor arrived home to find you sitting on the couch, still in your outfit from earlier. Your gaze was fixed on your phone screen, scrolling through images of other people’s lives, comparing your appearance to theirs. Your posture was tense, your brows furrowed in frustration.

Viktor quietly approached, his voice soft yet steady as he spoke your name. “You’re still awake? What’s going on, love?”

You glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just thinking. About how everyone seems to have it all figured out. How they look perfect, and I’m… well, I don’t know.” You trailed off, your gaze dropping back to your phone.

Viktor, noticing the sharp contrast between your usual confident self and the person sitting before him, knelt beside the couch, taking your hand gently in his. His tone was patient, understanding, but there was a certain firmness that made you look up at him.

“Your worth has never been determined by someone else’s perception of you,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’ve spent so much time trying to please others, trying to fit a mold you never asked for. But I need you to understand something, love…”

You looked at him, unsure, waiting for him to continue.

“You are far more than just the sum of your physical appearance or the validation of others,” Viktor continued, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are a person of substance, of intellect, of heart. And that’s what I fell in love with. Not the way you look, but who you are.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. Viktor’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “And you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone.”

There was silence between you, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. His words settled in your chest, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

“I just feel like I’m constantly chasing something I can never achieve,” you admitted quietly. “Trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone else expects.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with concern, but he smiled gently. “What if I told you that the most perfect version of yourself is already here? Right now, in this moment? That you are more than enough, as you are?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of wisdom, of someone who had seen the world through a lens of endless improvement. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace and the security of his steady presence.

“I’m still learning, Viktor,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. “Learning to accept myself.”

“And I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice warm and unwavering. “Every step of the way. To remind you that you’re perfect, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your soul. In that moment, with Viktor by your side, you realized that the person you needed to please the most was yourself. And with him, you finally understood that your worth was never tied to anyone’s expectations—but rather, to the person you were, inside and out.

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Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn was never one to place much value on appearances. Sure, she knew the importance of looking presentable, especially in her position, but she also understood that true beauty went beyond what the eye could see. For Caitlyn, what truly mattered were values, intellect, and integrity. But when she noticed you often fretting over your appearance, constantly adjusting your outfit, and seeking validation from others, it tugged at her heart. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, but didn’t know how to reach you—until one quiet evening.

After a long day at work, Caitlyn came home to find you in front of the mirror once again, changing clothes, adjusting your makeup, and constantly re-evaluating your reflection. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching you with a concerned expression.

You didn’t even notice her at first, your mind lost in the whirlwind of doubts that always seemed to surface when you weren’t in her company. “I don’t know, Cait. What if I’m not enough?” you muttered under your breath, pulling at the collar of your shirt as if it could make you feel better. “What if they don’t think I’m… beautiful enough?”

Caitlyn stepped into the room quietly, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you think that?”

You jumped, not expecting her to be standing so close. “Oh… I didn’t hear you.” You gave a weak smile, clearly still upset.

“Babe, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. She stepped closer and reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “What are you looking for?”

You hesitated, glancing at your reflection before turning to face her. “I just… I feel like people judge me all the time. What if they don’t like how I look? What if I’m too much for them? Or not enough?”

Caitlyn’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and concern. She could feel how deeply you were struggling, and though she didn’t share your worries about appearances, she understood the burden of those feelings. She gently cupped your face in her hands, tilting your chin so your eyes met hers.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low but confident. “You are enough. Right now, in this moment, you’re more than enough.”

You blinked, her words striking a chord deep inside. “But what if people think I’m…”

She cut you off gently. “You are beautiful, but more than that, you’re incredible. You make a difference. You’re kind, intelligent, and strong. No outfit or hairstyle is going to change that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words began to sink in. “But what if I’m not… what people expect?”

Caitlyn smiled, her hands gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own. I fell in love with you for who you are, not because of how you look. And I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now, just by being yourself.”

Her sincerity made your heart swell, and despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Caitlyn didn’t care about the opinions of others; she cared about you—and that was all that mattered.

“I guess I’ve been so focused on trying to be perfect that I forgot how to just be me,” you admitted softly.

Caitlyn chuckled, her thumbs gently rubbing circles on your cheeks. “And I’ll remind you every day that you don’t need to be perfect for anyone. You’re perfect for me.”

You leaned into her touch, a sense of comfort settling in your chest. “Thank you, Cait. I really needed to hear that.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. You don’t have to change a thing.”

In that moment, you realized that your true beauty didn’t lie in how others saw you, but in how Caitlyn saw you—and how you saw yourself when you let go of the expectations that had once held you back.

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

Vi.

Vi had always been more about strength and character than appearances. She had a no-nonsense attitude and didn’t care much for superficial things. Whether in a fight or just hanging out, she preferred to focus on what truly mattered—what was inside a person. So when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, constantly tweaking your outfit or worrying about how others perceived you, it threw her off. She couldn’t quite understand why you’d feel like you weren’t enough when to her, you were already perfect just as you were.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, Vi returned home to find you sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, flipping through social media. You’d been quiet all evening, and she could tell something was bothering you. As she approached, she noticed you adjusting your outfit for the fourth time, pulling at the hem of your shirt, checking the mirror again.

Vi raised an eyebrow, concern flashing across her face. “You good, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You didn’t look up, still preoccupied with your reflection. “I don’t know. I just feel like people always judge me. I mean, look at them, Vi,” you said, showing her your phone screen, where a bunch of influencers and well-dressed people filled the screen. “Why can’t I look like that? I don’t know… I just feel like I’m never enough, no matter what I do.”

Vi looked at the screen for a moment before setting it down gently, stepping closer to you. “Hey, look at me,” she said, her voice a little more serious now. “I don’t get it. You’ve got all this beauty inside and out, and you’re worried about some picture on a screen?”

You gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. “It’s not just a picture, Vi. People always notice what I wear, what I look like. I feel like I’m always trying to fit into something I’m not.”

Vi tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with that intense, protective gaze of hers. “You don’t need to fit into any mold, babe. You’re not some... trend to follow. You’re you. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

You looked away, unsure. "But people don't see that. They only care about the surface."

Vi sighed, her expression softening as she sat next to you. She took your hand in hers, her grip strong but comforting. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see a person who's been through a lot, someone who doesn't need to put on a mask to be loved. Someone who's real. And that's what makes you so amazing. I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks. And I know you don't need to change for anyone."

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the feelings bubbling up inside. Vi, with her blunt honesty and genuine affection, had a way of cutting through the noise, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you weren’t as lost as you thought.

Vi leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “You know I love you for exactly who you are, right? And if you’re worried about how others see you, then maybe you should let them see the real you. Because that’s who I love. The real you. Not some version of you trying to impress everyone else.”

You could feel her words sinking in, easing the pressure you hadn’t even realized had been building. You felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you as Vi’s embrace tightened, holding you close.

"I know I'm tough and rough around the edges," she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "but you don’t need to be anything other than what makes you happy. And if that means wearing your favorite old shirt or going makeup-free, I’m still gonna think you’re the best thing in the world."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you found yourself relaxing into her warmth. “Thanks, Vi. I needed that.”

Vi grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, babe. Just remember: you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

In that moment, surrounded by her love and honesty, you realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was the one that came from within—and with Vi, you were finally starting to believe it.

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

Jinx.

Jinx was many things—chaotic, unpredictable, and loud—but when it came to you, she was surprisingly sensitive. Her world had always been in a constant state of madness, but there was something calming about being with you. You were her rock, her one constant in the storm. That’s why it bothered her so much when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, always fidgeting with your clothes, your hair, or your makeup, constantly worried about how others saw you.

One evening, after a particularly wild day of mayhem (courtesy of Jinx, of course), you sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. Your brows were furrowed, your thumb scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others. Jinx had been watching you for a while, and it was starting to get under her skin.

"Hey, you!" she suddenly called out, practically throwing herself onto the couch next to you, her usual enthusiasm filling the room.

You jumped a little, distracted. “Oh, hey, Jinx. What’s up?” You didn’t look up from your phone, still fixated on the images that seemed to be making you feel worse with every swipe.

Jinx tilted her head, studying your face closely. Her blue hair bounced as she moved, and her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice. “Why do you keep looking at that stuff?”

You sighed, showing her your phone. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always trying to keep up with everyone else, you know? They always look so… perfect. I feel like I don’t measure up.”

Jinx blinked, her usual manic energy quieting for a moment as she processed your words. "What do you mean, perfect?" she asked, her voice almost childlike in its confusion. “Perfect’s boring, though! I mean, sure, it’s fun to be perfectly insane, but... you’re way cooler than perfect! Who needs to be that?”

You looked at her, a little unsure. “I just… I don’t know, Jinx. I feel like I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, trying to look like everyone else. But nothing ever feels good enough.”

Jinx leaned back dramatically, her arms spread wide. “You wanna know something? I don’t think you need to look like anyone else, ever!” she said, her eyes wide and full of her usual chaotic energy. “You’re already amazing the way you are, and I don’t get why you keep looking at that stuff. I mean, look at me—no one can look like me and that’s what makes me awesome! So you just need to be you, okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her randomness, even as a weight still sat heavy in your chest. Jinx smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the way her words were beginning to work their magic. “I know you think you gotta be something you’re not, but I love you just as you are. You’re like… the best thing ever! You don’t need to change anything to impress anyone, especially not me.”

She leaned forward then, her hands clasping yours tightly. Her wild eyes softened as she looked at you with an intensity that was rare for her. “I love you, okay? You—with all the stuff you think isn’t perfect. I don’t need a perfect you. I need you, the one with all the quirks and the weird little things that make you you!”

You blinked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Jinx had a way of making things seem so much lighter, her chaotic nature always breaking through the heaviness of your own doubts. Her laugh was like music, and the more she spoke, the more you felt the pressure you had been putting on yourself start to lift.

“Jinx,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Thank you. I think I just needed to hear it from you. I’ve been so focused on trying to change, I forgot what made me… me.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just made the greatest revelation in the world. “Just be you, and if anyone else doesn’t get it, then they’re the ones who are messed up! You’re freaking awesome, and I’m lucky to have you.��

She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. "Don’t ever try to be anything other than you again, okay?" she whispered into your ear. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in the chaos that only Jinx could provide. With her by your side, maybe, just maybe, you could start to let go of the expectations that others had placed on you—and just embrace the person you were.

And with that, Jinx’s chaotic energy became the balm you didn’t know you needed, reminding you that in this world of uncertainty, the most important thing was being true to yourself.

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

Ekko.

Ekko had always been a little different. The way he saw the world wasn’t about appearances or surface-level stuff—it was about people, their hearts, and their actions. It wasn’t lost on him that you seemed to care a lot about how others perceived you, constantly stressing over what to wear, how to look, or whether you were keeping up with the trends. At first, he didn’t really understand it. Why would you care what other people thought when you were already so incredible in his eyes?

One evening, after working on his latest invention in the workshop, Ekko was looking forward to spending some quiet time with you. He’d been busy with the repairs and inventions for the underground, but when he finally entered the room, he immediately noticed something different about you. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, occasionally staring at the mirror, then back at the pages. The quiet tension in the air told him something was off.

He walked up to you and gently sat down next to you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "You seem… distracted."

You looked up, surprised to see him. You hadn’t realized you were being so obvious about your self-doubt. "Oh, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile. "Just… you know, trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. Something that’ll make me look good enough for the crowd, y’know?"

Ekko frowned slightly. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your fingers were nervously flipping through pages. He didn’t need to be a genius to see that something was bothering you.

He leaned back against the couch, giving you a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “What crowd? I thought you were more about being yourself, not some image you’ve got to keep up with.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard. I mean, look at everyone else, Ekko. They’re all perfect—well-dressed, confident, always looking like they’ve got it all figured out. I just… I don’t know. I want to feel good about myself, but it feels like I’m always falling short.”

Ekko let out a small sigh. He had seen you struggle with this before, but hearing it out loud always tugged at his heart. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t measure up, especially in a world that made it easy to compare yourself to everyone around you. But to him, you were already more than enough.

"You don’t need to be like anyone else, you know that, right?" Ekko said, his voice calm yet serious. "I get it, everyone around here seems to care about appearances or ‘keeping up with the Joneses,’ but that’s not what makes someone special. You’re already incredible. The real you—not some idealized version of yourself—is what I love."

He took your hand, gently guiding you to face him. "It’s not about looking like someone else. It’s about being you. And when you’re you, that’s when you shine the brightest. You’re unique, and that’s what makes you stand out. Not some perfect look or what other people think."

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words piercing through the insecurities that had been building inside. Ekko was always so patient with you, always grounding you when the chaos of the world started to feel too heavy. His belief in you, in who you were as a person, was unwavering.

"Ekko, I’m just so used to trying to fit in," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everyone expects me to be perfect, to look a certain way."

Ekko shook his head, his hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "You don’t need to fit into anyone’s box. You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters. You’ve got something they don’t—your heart, your mind, your creativity. You’ve always had it, and I see it every single day."

He stood up, giving you a playful grin. "You know what’s really cool about you? You can pull off anything—whether it’s a fancy outfit or a worn-out hoodie. You make it look good because it’s you. And honestly, that’s way more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little of the weight lifting off your shoulders as you finally met his eyes. “You really think that?”

Ekko nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. "More than anything. I’m proud of you, just the way you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, especially not when you’ve already got mine."

You stood up to face him, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. There was no need to change for the world. You had Ekko, and that was more than enough to make you feel seen and loved.

"I love you, you know that?" you whispered.

Ekko grinned, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug. "I love you too, more than you’ll ever know."

In his arms, you felt safe—safe to be yourself, flaws and all. Maybe it wasn’t about perfection after all. Maybe it was about finding the people who truly saw you, the real you, and loving you for exactly who you were.

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

Sevika.

The quiet buzz of the dimly lit workshop was disrupted by a small, sudden sigh. Sevika paused, her fingers lightly gripping the wrench she was working with as she looked over at you. You were at the far corner of the room, your attention focused on the full-length mirror. Your gaze was distant, eyes scanning every inch of yourself, your expression more tense than usual.

She could see the way your shoulders tensed, the slight frown on your lips, and she knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone caught in the trap of self-doubt, obsessing over things that didn't truly matter. Sevika, who always carried herself with quiet confidence, couldn't help but notice how much you seemed to care about things that didn’t define your worth—things like appearance, status, and the opinions of others.

Without saying a word, Sevika set her tools down and walked toward you, her large frame cutting through the space with the same assured steps she always had. There was something about your current mood that tugged at her, an instinct to take care of you when she saw you struggling.

She came up behind you, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her arms, just watching. There was no rush to intervene. Sevika had learned that sometimes, you needed time to process things on your own before anyone could help.

After a moment, you spoke without turning to face her. "Do you think they’d like me more if I looked different? I mean… everyone seems to have something special about them. What if I’m just… not good enough?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. Sevika stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hey," she said, her hand resting on your shoulder, urging you to meet her eyes. "You’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re not here to be ‘liked’ by anyone else but yourself."

You swallowed, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "I don’t know, Sevika. I just—sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t live up to… to what they expect, to what everyone else has. I don’t know how to be comfortable with myself."

Sevika’s eyes softened, her hand gently turning your chin so that you finally faced her. "You don’t need to worry about them. You don’t need to worry about being perfect, because there’s no such thing. No one is perfect—not even the ones who pretend they are."

Her voice was steady, filled with that unwavering confidence that made her so impossible to ignore. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s not something that comes from looking a certain way. It comes from what you’ve been through, how you keep going despite everything. That’s what I admire about you. Not how you look, but the person you are."

Your breath caught, the frustration in your chest softening with her words. For a moment, you let yourself believe her, feeling the weight of your insecurities ease just a little.

"I think you forget sometimes that people who truly care about you… the ones who matter, don’t give a damn about your looks," Sevika continued, her thumb lightly tracing your cheek, her touch gentle yet powerful. "You think I’m here because you’ve got the perfect image? Nah. I’m here because you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it."

A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "And you think I’d let someone like you get away with being anything less than amazing?"

You chuckled softly, the tension melting away at the sincerity in her words. Sevika’s tough exterior had always been there, but in moments like this, she allowed her softer side to show, especially when it came to you. You could see in her eyes that she didn’t just mean what she was saying—she believed it wholeheartedly.

"Sevika, I—"

She cut you off, her finger lightly tapping your lips. "No more self-doubt. No more comparisons. You’re incredible. Just as you are."

For once, the mirror didn’t seem so important. It wasn’t about how others saw you, but how you saw yourself through her eyes. Sevika may not always say a lot, but in moments like this, her actions spoke volumes. You let yourself lean into her touch, the assurance in her presence becoming your anchor.

She leaned in close, her voice softer now, just for you. "Now, let’s forget about everyone else for a while, yeah? Tonight’s about you, about us. You don’t need to impress anyone but yourself."

And as you let her embrace you, a weight lifted, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

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

Authors note: I really do apologize if this isn't to ur liking my darling or it feels repetitive I just really could not come up with different scenarios dear God I was about to crash out..

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rafesslxt · 2 days ago

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unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.”

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.”

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter.

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe camaron fluff #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #outer banks oneshots #outer banks drabble

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laylaysdelusions · 3 days ago

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Innocent bliss

Pazzi x reader

A/n: here’s that shy reader x pazzi after 4 months cuz I saw them yesterday for the first time and I almost nutted

Summary: pazzi are your roommates and you overhear her something you shouldn’t..

You let out a deep sigh as you rub your temples. The essay you’re working on had consumed your brain as well as your time. Your two roommates Paige and Azzi are gone to practice for the evening and that means you will finally be productive. Your body and mind don’t know how to act normally around the two girls and it drives you insane. Your fingers type another few words before you decide you need a snack break.

You walk to the kitchen seeking a bowl of cereal. As you stand in front of the cabinets you hear the door knob twist open. The sound of Azzi whispering and Paige giggling moves closer. “Hey we’ll just be in our room if you need us” you nod and they don’t even look you in the eyes, which stings a little. “Bye-“ you say right before they shut the door. You go to your bedroom with your head down. You really do have a problem.

You assume that it’s just couple behavior not that you would know since you’ve never been in a relationship before. You knew you hated men from an early age and you grew up in too much of a small town to find a decent girls to date. Now, you’re just too busy to be out looking. Your shy demeanor doesn’t help either.

Since you met Paige and Azzi things have been changing for you. It started with just Paige. Not only was her physical appearance alluring, her attitude and talent added much to her. It wasn’t long after you developed feelings for Paige that you noticed Azzi in the same light. The two of them were deadly and they are very much aware. The world doesn’t know they are dating but there is speculation amongst fans. You know more than what’s good for you.

It’s only been a short few months since you’ve been rooming with the pair and it’s gotten progressively harder to not let a hint of your affection slip. In the mornings when they’re up making their protein shakes in the kitchen you secretly peek at how Paige’s muscles move and how Azzi’s hands twitch. Everything they do comes so naturally sexy, it’s an impossible situation for you. You’re not a perv but I mean you are a lesbian seeing two of the hottest women on the planet in sports bras and sweatpants all the time.

When you sit on your bed you sink into the sheets wanting to cry. This crush is a road block, there is no chance. As soon as you feel a cold tear run your cheek you hear a sound from the other side of the wall. It sounds like a whine? ‘I hope they’re not in pain !” You immediately think. You don’t have much time to worry about it before you hear what sounds to be a breathy moan.

It suddenly clicks into your head what your roommates must be doing, covering your body in a flustered blush. You cover your face in embarrassment. Something in you,however, doesn’t want them to stop anytime soon. You start to hear sheets rustling and a wet sound on top of the already present whimpering. If it’s even possible your body gets warmer.

You start to wonder, wonder about how it feels, what their facial expressions look like and everything else dirty you could think of in your shy mind. What you consider dirty is probably light compared to others but that’s just how you are, innocent. “Paige please” you hear azzi’s voice whine. Your eyes grow bigger than sand dollars and you pull your blanket over your face. Don’t they know that the walls are this thin?

Although you masterbate from time to time you usually don’t orgasm because of how low your stamina is and you also are quite the overthinking when it comes to making yourself feel good. The current pool of heated wetness in your panties right now is quite difficult to ignore. Your core aches for attention. ‘This is dirty’ you think, to my roommates? really?

You grab the pillow lying next to your head, pulling it underneath you. You gently move your panties to the side and mount the pillow. You hold in a soft sound that’s threatening to escape your lips. The moans and whimpers from the one and only Azzi Fudd in the next room grow more intense. Paige must’ve hit a good spot with her fingers.

“You’re doing great princess” you hear Paige’s voice echo. You can’t help but imagine you’re just right on the other side watching them. You throw your pussy harder into the pillow as you listen to Paige’s praises accompanied by Azzi’s cries. Azzi gets even breathier and Paige speaks softly. “Just a little bit longer ok sweet girl?”. “Oh gosh..” you mutter when you hear the pet name. That’s one of your dream pet names.

Your hips grind against the surface making you let a whimpered plea. You know they can’t hear you, they are too focused on coming at the moment. Azzi starts hiccuping on her moans and that’s when you assume she’s close. “Good girl, you wanna come for me?” The blonde says in a cocky tone. “Mhm! Yeah” Azzi answers, clearly about to burst. “Go ahead, cum for me” when Paige says that Azzi lets out a yelp.

Your hips continue rutting against the firm pillow while you almost sob in desperation. You hear a few whispers but you don’t care to make them out. Tears run down your face as you hear them moving spots. You hear a clapping noise now and you’re not sure what it is. Azzi sounds overwhelmed with desire for more of her girlfriend.

Paige chuckles and Azzi giggles while out of breath but they don’t stop. You wonder what they thought was funny but quickly move on. You come to the conclusion it must be a strap that they’re using. You daydream about what it looks like while soaking the area underneath you. The unusual coil in your stomach builds up.

You’re close and you’re unaware of how loud you’re being even with the hand over your mouth. You push just a little bit more and you gasping for air and collapsing against your sheets. You lay there still hearing them and extremely exhausted. Your eyes close and you fall into a deep sleep.

The sun bleeds into your room and you are rudely awakened by it. You quickly realize you desperately need a shower so you head to the bathroom. As you head down the hallway with your head hanging low in shame you bump into a body. It’s Azzi, standing tall as usual. “Sorry-“ you say about to proceed but she grabs your arm.

“Me and Paige have some questions for you” she says, her voice low laced with something different than normal. ‘Think of something!’ Your brain yells at you but you don’t listen to it. “Y-yeah what’s the matter?” Azzi leads you to the couch where Paige is already sitting, well, manspreading. You have to force yourself to hold a shaky breath in.

“So, how was your night last night?” Paige smirks and that’s when you realize what you got yourself into. Your skin turns hot and you drop your head. Azzi grabs your chin, pulling your eyes to meet hers. “We just asking you about your night sweetheart” “it was good..can I go shower now?” You say softly, scared of being any louder. “One more question” Paige stands up behind you and leans down to your ear. “How did you enjoy the show?” The blonde asks making a shiver go down your spine.

#wlw post #fanfic #paige bueckers #lay lay speaks #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconn wbb #i need both of them #pazzi x reader #pazzi fics

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suzukiblu · 2 days ago

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Fifth ( and final! ) 1k of the thank-you 5k I promised y'all behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon hurls his barely-off jacket out of the Super-Cycle and across the garage to hit the wall without even looking, without even making any actual decision to, and then nearly bursts into tears again like a fucking idiot. Idiot. Stupid, stupid, stu–

He doesn’t know if the others would care about him borrowing their scents for his nest, but he already–he already knows–

Superman told him to go be with his pack.

Told him to go.

And “El” isn’t Superman’s pack name. So–so Superman definitely, definitely doesn’t wanna be in his nest. Not even as just as a blocker-muddled trace of scent.

Kon doesn’t–doesn’t need another stupid pillow anyway. Even if it’s his stupid jacket.

He grabs Red Tornado’s cape again and unrolls it, then drapes it over the side of the Super-Cycle’ nesting pit, and then wants to cry even worse because he hates how it looks like that. Folds it up square instead, and then doesn’t like how that looks either and shakes it back out and then rolls it up again but that’s not good enough either so he shakes it out and–

He wishes he could put his jacket in his nest. He–he likes his jacket.

Superman wouldn’t want him to, though. Not as long as it smells even a little bit like him, anyway.

Kon just–just buries himself against the pillows he’s already folded and curls down in on himself and drags Red Tornado’s cape halfway over his head and wraps his arms over it and makes himself as small as he can in against them and–and–

He thinks he’s gonna sob, but what actually happens is–is–

He keens, is what actually happens. Not on purpose. Definitely not on purpose. Definitely not.

Keens an omega call. An omega call for . . . for their pack.

So–no, it’s not on purpose. Kon’s fucking stupid, yeah, but not–not stupid enough to have done any shit like that on purpose.

But once he’s done it, it feels like he can’t stop doing it.

Kon shoves his own fist in-between his teeth and digs them in hard through his glove and against the bones of his knuckles and tries desperately to just sob, to just cry, to–to–to at least muffle the stupid–the stupid keening, the stupid calling, to–to–he doesn’t want anyone to hear that, that’s so pathetic and stupid and pathetic, a stupid useless stray calling for a pack he’s never even had like he–like he’s stupid enough to think–think that–and he doesn’t want anyone to ever, ever know he’s that pathetic, that stupid, that–

The Super-Cycle’s engine rumbles in a purr so loud it drowns out Kon’s stifled keening completely, and he buries himself in tighter against the folded pillows that smell like the team and tightens his grip on Red Tornado’s cape that smells like him and hides under–hides under it, and tries not to cry too hard.

And doesn’t wish he had his fucking jacket.

“Th-thanks,” he chokes, his voice cracking. He doesn’t even know if the Super-Cycle did that on purpose or not, but . . . “Thanks. Sorry, I–I just–thank you.”

The Super-Cycle keeps purring away, and without having to freak out about the chances of anybody hearing him doing something so fucking embarrassing, Kon manages to calm down enough to stop–stop the fucking calling, at least, and then stop the sobbing, and then even stop the crying. It takes a little bit, but . . . but he manages it. Red Tornado hasn’t come back yet, so that’s . . . some fucking mercy, anyway.

A lot of fucking mercy, honestly.

He feels really stupid, still, but the Super-Cycle’s being . . . being really nice to him. Like–way nicer than it has to be. Especially since it likes Robin and Bart both way better than him and probably all the girls too. But like, especially Robin and Bart. Which, sure, way to be grateful for a guy breaking you out of the dig site with his badass custom-designed TTK, but–

Well. If the Super-Cycle’s doing this for him, maybe it likes him more than he thought it did.

Kon sniffles a couple more times, then scrubs the last of the tears off with the heel of his glove and sits back up to roll up Red Tornado’s cape again. The rolled-up pillow really was the best option, he thinks. Like–most cushioning and all to it. So like–best option, yeah.

So he rolls it up again, tucks in the ends again, and puts it back against the side of the nesting pit opposite all his other makeshift pillows. The roll and the tuck are both a little neater-looking now, actually, so . . . that’s good, he thinks. Maybe he’s gettin’ the hang of nesting, a little bit.

Maybe he won’t suck at it, if he practices a little more. Even if he didn’t, like–get to do it before he presented or anything. Like, maybe he could be . . . okay at it, he thinks.

Kon watches the video again for a refresher on the tips in it and for ideas for what to do with whatever else Red Tornado’s gonna bring. He figures it’ll just be, like, a couple blankets or maybe a stack of towels or something, so probably he’ll just fold ‘em up the same ways he did with either Cissie’s towel or Red Tornado’s cape, ‘cuz he already knows how to do those folds and it’s, like–it’s good practice, right? Because . . . because he’ll be doing this again. Like . . . a lot.

He’ll be doing this the whole friggin’ rest of his life, and nobody can tell him he’s not allowed to even if they do think he’s, like, a bad omega or a slut or whatever. He’s still an omega either way. He’s still allowed, either way.

Even if he’s not in anyone’s pack, at least he doesn’t have to smell anything like Westfield. Doesn’t have to be anything like Westfield.

Doesn’t even have to be an alpha, which . . . he really hadn’t thought he was gonna get out of having to be an alpha. Really hadn’t thought . . .

He just–hadn’t thought he was gonna get out of having to be an alpha, he guesses.

But he did.

Kon sniffles one more time; scrubs the cuff of his glove across his face one more time. Lets himself just feel–just feel all the weird, giddy relief, one more time. Then he focuses again and starts rearranging all his makeshift pillows, because if Suzie actually does come, he really, really has to have a nice nest ready for, like . . .

He just–Kon really needs to have a nice nest ready, he knows, though he’s not really sure . . . why, exactly? Like, now that he’s thinking about it. Like . . . he doesn’t know why he feels so much like he just really needs to have it.

He definitely does, though. Like–definitely feels like he needs it, and definitely also does need it.

. . . he hopes Suzie’ll like it, if he actually does manage to do an okay job. He hopes if she likes it enough, she’ll stick around for a little while and, like . . . watch some of those videos with him or something, or just stream something on his phone with him, or just hang out or talk or . . .

He hopes if she likes it enough, she’ll get in it with him. Which–it feels kind of dumb, Kon thinks, how much he hopes that, but . . . yeah. He hopes she will, at least for a little bit. Maybe she’d feel safe in it too.

He just . . . he thinks he’d really like it if she would, is all.

#kon el #conner kent #superboy #young just us #young justice #wip: yj packs up and gets pupped #omegaverse

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youngsadlesbian · 21 hours ago

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hi! i’ve been reading your works and they are so brilliant! one of ny fav authors in here! 🥹

i would like to request popular!wanda x popular!reader wherein they are known to be rivals when it comes to both academics and just, popularity and general. their parents are well-known and everyone assumes they despise eachother, because they feign to be so.

but they’re actually dating eachother. it’s just nice to see everyone worked up about them. and then one day, when wanda hears someone talking bad about reader, she reveals their relationship in the most affectionate way! 😆

thank you!

— 🍂

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: for years, you and wanda maximoff have been rivals—battling for the top spot in academics, popularity, and everything in between. the entire school believes you despise each other, fueling the most talked-about feud in westview high history. but here’s the twist: you’re actually dating. and it's definitely fun keeping up with this lie.

a/n: thanks for the request and i'm sorry for any mistakes <3

word count: 956

warnings: fluff and kinda enemies to lovers.

Westview High had two reigning queens.

There was you—a household name, thanks to your influential parents and undeniable charm. Top of the class, president of multiple clubs, effortlessly cool. People either wanted to be you, date you, or just stay out of your way.

And then there was Wanda Maximoff.

Equally brilliant, equally popular, equally untouchable. Her mother was a renowned politician, her father a high-profile businessman. She dominated academics, ruled the social scene, and had a fan club that rivaled yours.

And the two of you?

You hated each other.

Or at least, that’s what everyone thought.

It was a feud so legendary that teachers sighed at the mention of your names. You were always neck and neck—fighting for valedictorian, student government president, even the coveted title of Homecoming Queen.

Students thrived off the drama.

Every eye-roll. Every sarcastic remark. Every competitive smirk in the hallways.

People ate it up.

Little did they know…

You were very much in love with Wanda Maximoff.

And had been for a while.

It started a year ago.

An accidental run-in at a party led to an argument that led to… well… a heated moment alone in an empty hallway.

One stolen kiss turned into another.

And another.

And suddenly, hating Wanda became loving her.

But the drama of your rivalry was too good to let go.

So, naturally, you both pretended to still hate each other.

It was perfect.

No one suspected a thing.

You’d exchange insults in class but secretly text each other under the table.

You’d have intense debates during school meetings and then make out in Wanda’s car afterward.

You were the ultimate power couple in disguise.

And you loved watching the school lose its mind over your “feud.”

\*/

Everything was going great—until one day, Wanda overheard something she did not like.

You had just walked into the school library, carrying your usual confidence. The rivalry was still going strong, and as per tradition, the minute you stepped inside, people started whispering.

Wanda sat at a table near the back, pretending to study, but her ears perked up when she heard two girls from the cheerleading squad whispering nearby.

"I don’t get why people like her so much," one of them muttered. "She’s so fake."

"Right?" the other scoffed. "Like, she just acts all perfect, but she’s probably super insecure. I bet she just uses her parents’ money to stay relevant."

Wanda’s blood boiled.

Excuse me?

Sure, she and you acted like enemies, but there was a big difference between playful rivalry and people actually talking down on you.

Wanda Maximoff had zero tolerance for anyone disrespecting her girlfriend.

And so, for the first time in a long time, she dropped the act.

"Excuse me," Wanda said, standing up.

The entire library froze.

Because Wanda never started public drama. That was your thing.

The cheerleaders looked startled. "Uh… hi, Wanda?"

Wanda’s voice was deadly calm. "I just wanted to make sure I heard you correctly."

The girls exchanged a look. "What—?"

"You think Y/N is fake?" Wanda raised an eyebrow. "That she only stays relevant because of her parents?"

You, still by the entrance, had no idea what was happening—until you noticed the way everyone suddenly turned to look at Wanda.

Oh no.

Wanda was doing something.

And that something was not planned.

You started walking toward her. "Wanda—"

She cut you off. "You know what’s funny?" Her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. "You sit here, talking about Y/N, when you don’t even know her. Do you know how hard she works? How late she stays up studying? How much pressure she’s under?"

The girls gawked at her.

You?

You froze.

Because—

Was she—?

Wanda turned toward you, eyes burning with fury and something else entirely.

Affection.

Possession.

Love.

"You know what?" she continued, stepping toward you. "I’m tired of pretending."

And then—

In front of everyone—

She kissed you.

If you thought the school lost its mind over your rivalry—

This?

This was nuclear.

The library exploded.

People gasped.

Someone screamed.

A freshman fainted.

Your brain short-circuited.

And Wanda?

Wanda looked smug as hell.

She smirked against your lips before pulling back slightly, her voice teasing. "You gonna say something, baby?"

The whole school malfunctioned.

"Baby???"

Your enemies-to-lovers fantasy had just become the biggest scandal in Westview High history.

And honestly?

It was amazing.

\*/

The news spread like wildfire.

By lunchtime, your phones were blowing up.

"Is this a PR stunt???"

"HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN HAPPENING?"

"ARE WE IN A FANFICTION?"

Even your teachers looked shook.

But the best part?

The absolute best part?

You and Wanda just sat at your usual separate lunch tables—grinning at each other from across the cafeteria.

You took a sip of your drink.

She blew you a kiss.

Someone dropped their tray.

This was so much better than the rivalry.

Because now?

You were the school’s power couple.

And you loved every second of it.

By the end of the week, people adjusted.

The rivalry turned into an iconic romance.

Teachers sighed but secretly rooted for you.

The school paper ran a dramatic headline: "THE GREATEST LOVE STORY EVER TOLD?"

And you?

You walked down the halls hand-in-hand with Wanda Maximoff—owning it.

"You know," Wanda teased one day, leaning against your locker, "we could’ve just told people normally."

You smirked. "Where’s the fun in that?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "We are so dramatic."

"That’s why we work, babe."

And with that, you kissed her again—in front of everyone.

Because at the end of the day?

You and Wanda Maximoff weren’t just rivals.

You were legendary.

And now?

You were legendary together.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

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sokkastyles · 2 days ago

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Do you think some parts of the world would have been unhappy in Aang's decision to spare Ozai? That people would be so bitter - this madman gets to live, while their friends and loved ones died? Why is that? Oh - because the Avatar didn't want to compromise his own morals, to kill someone? Tough, it's a war. People die.

The thing I don't like about the way the show frames it is that the narrative doesn't really give Aang a choice, either.

I think people who frame this as Aang respecting Air Nomad culture are trying to give the show too much credit, because the show doesn't act like Aang gets to choose a moral high ground, they act like he has no choice. Aang seems to believe that the only way he can honor his Air Nomad heritage is by not killing, and...what about all the Air Nomads who didn't have that luxury? What about Gyatso, who was faced with the choice of kill or die, and killed, and died?

I think a lot of people would see Aang's choice as a slap in the face. Every person who had to do things they considered against their personal morals to survive. People like Jet who sincerely wished to stop leading a violent life, but couldn't, because that life was chosen for him the moment his parents were murdered. People like Hakoda who felt deeply ashamed of having to leave his own children to go to war. Are these people just inherently less moral or more bloodthirsty than Aang? No, they simply didn't have the power Aang had at his disposal that allowed him to avoid the kind of violent lives that many people, children included, were forced to lead during the war.

That's also why the "Aang reminds Katara/Zuko that they are kids" thing annoys me. What Aang does is remind them that HE has the luxury of thinking of himself as a kid while they don't. The reason Katara hadn't been penguin sledding in so long isn't because she's a buzzkill who hates fun or she "forgot" that she's a kid, it's because she was forced into a role where she had to take care of her family in her mother's absence, and that doesn't go away with the introduction of another kid she has to parent. As for Zuko, that "well you're just a teenager" line is funny and it's easy to think of Zuko as someone who takes himself too seriously (and part of why it's funny is that teenagers in general do view themselves as so much older than younger children), but Zuko was kicked out of his home at thirteen and expected to be fighting a fully-realized adult Avatar. Even when he was Aang's age, he never had the luxury of thinking of himself that way. You can see this also in the way Zuko interacts with adults early in the series, notably Zhao and his crew. He is desperate to be seen as a hardened adult because he has had to act like one to survive.

These people don't act this way because they've lost their morals or sense of fun or because they don't value peace enough. They act this way because this is what they were forced to do to survive. I think people would rightly be offended by the idea that wanting to see Ozai dead for his crimes makes them just as violent as a genocidal tyrant, and they would be right to feel resentful that Ozai gets to live when he was responsible for so much violence. This is also why Zuko tells Ozai that he's lucky that Aang spared his life. Because in the end, Aang has NO moral obligation to spare Ozai whatsoever, not because of his culture or any reason. Pacifism has never meant that you aren't allowed to use necessary force to stop violence from happening. And anyone who uses the argument that Aang has to spare Ozai because of his culture or that this is his only way to honor his people is LYING.

#atla cricitical #zuko #katara #antikataang #only slightly but tagging because i'm not interested in arguing about this

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lovethyauthors · 2 days ago

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AHH OK well now you’ve got me thinking, what if there is no one Reason, what if they’re just stressed and distracted from the day to day of their jobs and just don’t notice how she’s feeling? Or if they do notice they think she needs space to work it out herself? OR WORSE what if they are actually annoyed with how often she checks in on them? Not enough to not want to be with her but just needing some space?

She’d eventually drop the whole break the bond request, though not after some arguing / begging I’m sure, and pretend like it’s ok but would walk away from the conversation CONVINCED she needs to change to keep her team happy. So she sets out to be more like Johnny, minimizing her needs, trying to get by on the bare minimum.

OR she accepts that Price won’t break the bond now so she decides to distance herself to save herself the heartbreak, to make their bond weaker so next time she asks, they’ll be as ready to get rid of her as she thinks they already are.

Either way it’s not a fun time for anyone as the team starts to notice how she’s slipping away, how she’s not their sweet, comforting girl anymore.

Price is confused when days go by and she doesn’t pop into his office once, doesn’t come check on him, doesn’t remind him to take a break and eat if he hasn’t. When he gives in and just calls her to his office, he’s hurt by how she stands by the door, shuffling her feet like she can’t wait to leave, and avoids eye contact at any cost. He wants his warm and bubbly girl back who would walk into his office and plop herself down on his lap like it was her rightful place, who would steal kisses and snuggles while he was filling out paperwork and he doesn’t know what he needs to do to get her back.

Simon has never been chatty, content to always let her drone on about the little things while he listens and chimes in when needed. He doesn’t realize how much he misses her sweet voice and giggles, how much they make him feel normal instead of the monster everyone else assumes he is, until she stops seeking him out. Now, everything she says to him is monotone and soulless, and only ever related to work. She never sticks around for long after she’s said what she needed too, never rewards him with the beaming smile at the end of her words like she used to and he hates it!! He hates that she seems like she’s been turned into a shell of her former self!! He tried to remember what she used to like to talk about, tries to follow up on those conversations, asks her about the things she could’ve ranted about for hours, only to receive a shrug and short answer. Simon doesn’t remember being this anxious trying to have a conversation since he was a child, and after the third time being shut down, he decides he’s had enough and storms in to Price’s office because they need to fix this! It’s tearing their little family apart, even Soap and Gaz are feeling the effects, and he’s had enough!!

Soap and Gaz who’ve tried to be much more gentle only to have her recoil at their smallest touch, always slipping out of their fingers, always having an excuse for why she needed to leave. Soap and Gaz who are torn between watching her leave and following her, not knowing what the right thing to do is in this new world they’ve found themselves in. They look to Ghost and Price for guidance, for leadership, but they’re just as lost, only knowing that they’re loosing her piece by piece.

Mmmmmm I can’t decide if they confront her about her new behaviour and the clear effects it’s having on her (because surprise surprise sacrificing your needs to keep others happy isn’t healthy if her weak and tired state and constantly sad smell is anything to go off of). If they do, I can see her finally being angry, yelling at them that they need to make up their minds about what they want from her, and as much as it hurts them to think that she’s been acting this way because she thinks it’s what they want, they’re relieved that at least she’s talking to them again, at least she has her spark back.

Or maybe they’re too cautious, maybe they avoid saying anything for fear of making it worse, of upsetting her more so they just don’t. And then they’re sent on a mission, gone for two months as they try to save the world from certain doom, at least content in knowing their entire world is home, safe, even if she’s upset. Does distance make the heart grow fonder? Or is it a trial run for separation? Because as hard as it is, as much as each day away from them hurts her, it makes it even more clear what she has to do.

Finally they’re back home, all safe, all alive, minor injuries that don’t really mean much anymore, not in their field of work. And they’ll take her comforting presence over anything, no matter how distant, no matter how cold. What they can’t take however is her request for Price to break the bond again. Four elite soldiers, used to death and blood and war, reduced to tears because for the first time they feel hopeless. Simon secretly wonders if it would’ve been less painful to bleed out on the battlefield than come back home to this.

Hey friend. I've put off this ask a little while, because I'm sure you're tired of getting it by now, but... are there any updates on the neglected! reader (a/b/o)? I really liked that one, and though I have no issues with the second part not being done yet, a little progress update (if you want to add one) would be very cool! Thanks for writing :)

ugh i know i've been putting it off for a long time but i haven't abandoned it guys! just feeling very stuck with where the narrative is sitting rn 🥲 however, here's a little tease of the beginning of part two, keep in mind it may not be written exactly like this when i post it:

"what?" kyle mumbles, rising from john's lap to grapple with the sudden coldness that overcomes him. no one else says anything, but you can see how your words affect the rest of them: john stiffens in his seat, simon's dismissive glance has turned into a burning glare, and johnny's hand has slipped from where it was resting on his captain's shoulder, a look of confusion and panic twisting on his face.

your anxiety may have dissipated, but that doesn't make this any easier. the air feels too tense, too uncomfortable. you don't like how agitated everyone's scents became the moment you walked in, and it hurts even more knowing they didn't even try to hide it. you don't like seeing them all together here like this. you don't like that you're believing that spiteful little voice in the back of your mind jeering at you that they've been planning your departure, planning how to break the news to you that you're not worth the hassle anymore.

it only makes sense why they're all cooped up in john's office, whispering amongst themselves.

"darling, what are you talking about?" john's voice cuts through your thoughts, but you try not to find comfort in it. he stands from his seat, and you try not to reveal how much you've missed his scent despite how thick it is with stress. your omega has been quiet for a while, but now that you're gathered in one place like this, she's getting restless, simultaneously wanting to hiss at them and cling to anyone who will spare a scrap of affection.

"please, captain, just do it. i don't want to be a burden any longer." you'll beg if that's what it takes; you'll get on your knees and clasp your hands together if it means saving them from unnecessary stress and annoyance and you from further heartbreak.

the earnestness in your voice is so strong it bites at them because how could you even suggest something like that? how could they even consider their pack whole if you're not there?

but hearing his rank fall from your lips leaves a bitter taste in john's mouth and a knot forming in his stomach. it's unnatural to hear you call him that while sounding so defeated and miserable. it's scary to feel so out of control when he's supposed to be your captain, your head alpha.

to know he's let you down so much makes his alpha growl pathetically in shame; how can he even consider himself a leader?

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