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a Second Chance | Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader

Summary: After being in a secret relationship with Rafe and becoming pregnant, he denied the entire relationship, making it known your son wasn’t his. However, he can’t deny it for much longer - your son is the spitting image of Rafe. 

Part 1 

A/N: This is a continuation of the fic above. This can be read as stand alone or you can read the other first for a bit of background on how things played out and telling Rafe you were expecting. 

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Your son's giggles were music to your ears. You smiled in adoration at his uncle JJ chasing him through the yard, his little toddler legs moving as fast as they could. He loved his uncle JJ. And his other aunts and uncles too. After all the drama with Rafe, he and the other Pogues stepped in, becoming your village and boy are you glad you had them. You wouldn’t have been able to do it without them. 

Rafe continued the story, the baby wasn’t his and you were never in a relationship. However, as time has passed, people are starting to get suspicious, especially as your son grows because he’s the spitting image of Rafe. It is getting to the point, Rafe truly can’t deny him. 

“Come on boys, let's get to the beach before it gets crowded,” You call out to JJ and Jackson; the other Pogues loading up in the Twinkie. You and JJ worked hard, going in half on a car that JJ rebuilt to make it drivable. JJ knew the Twinkie wouldn’t be a safe vehicle to transport his tiny nephew and made it his mission to find you something sustainable and reliable. 

“Mama!” Jackson squeals as he nears, jumping into your arms. 

You laugh and kiss his head before placing him in his carseat and securing him. “Ready to go to the beach?” 

He nods with a big grin; Rafe’s smile. The smile you’d fell in love with. You can’t deny it doesn’t hurt a little when you look at your son, because staring back is Rafe and all the hurt that came with him. But you wouldn’t trade Jackson for anything in the world. He’d brought light into your life and filled your broken heart. Jackson is so smart and intelligent, even at only 3 years old. He’s got a sweet and loving personality and he loves when he can make you laugh. And Rafe is missing it all, time he will never get back.

~

After settling at a spot on the beach, you all unpacked, setting the chairs and umbrella up. Pope dropping the cooler under the umbrella with a grunt, “jeez what the hell did you guys pack in that thing.” 

Jackson started tugging you toward the water, “come mama!” 

“No baby hold on, let's put sunscreen on first. Then you can get in the water.” 

He pouts but stops tugging, letting you lather him in the sunscreen. 

“Once mama is finished me and you can go check out those waves!”  JJ holds his fist to Jackson, who returns with a fist bump. 

“Alright you’re finished!” You kiss him on the head and he takes off toward the water with JJ. JJ picks him up and wades into the water with him. Jackson laughing hysterically as the waves crash against them. 

“beer?” Kie asks, as you take a seat in the beach chair next to her. 

"Yes thank you,” you sigh, taking a sip, “I love that the beach is nearly empty-” 

Loud music catches you and the other Pogues attention, watching as a couple trucks and a jeep drive thru the sand behind you. You recognized Topper’s jeep and groaned. 

“Please keep driving..” Sarah pleads. 

“Anywhere but here.” Kie adds. 

“Of course.” John B says as they stop a little ways down the beach, “This entire beach and they pick that spot?” 

You take a sip of your beer, nearly choking on it as you see someone hop out of the dark blue truck. Rafe. 

“Shit.” Kie mumbles. 

He rounds the truck and opens the passenger side, another person gets out of the truck and it’s Sofia. 

Sarah places a gentle hand on your arm, “you gonna be ok?” 

You give her a reassuring smile and nod, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.” You gaze out at the ocean, JJ has noticed the kooks and he looks over at you, a look of concern on his face. You nod at him, letting him know you’re okay. He continues to play with Jackson, holding his hand as he stands with his toes in the sand, jumping over the waves as they break against the beach. 

“We’re both adults here. Maybe me more than him but it’s ok.” You glance between Sarah and Kie, “He’s living his best life - while I raise our son that he denies is his.” 

John B squeezes your shoulders, “And you’re doing a damn good job at it too.” 

The rest of the Pogues pipe in, “Hell ya you are,” “You’re killing it.” 

“Thanks you guys,” Your eyes dance between the Pogues, “I couldn’t have done it without you guys,” Your eyes grow teary, “Ok okay stop you guys are gonna make me cry,” You shake your hands out, wiping your face, “enough sappy talk. Let’s enjoy our beach day!” 

~ 

Rafe watches you and the Pogues playing with Jackson by the water, taking a sip of his beer. 

Sofia comes up beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist, “Her son is cute,” She says with a smile, looking up at him. 

He hums in response, not pulling his eyes from you and Jackson. He knew now, there was no denying Jackson. He looked just like him. Topper flat out asked the other day if Jackson was his. 

“He looks just like you man.” 

Rafe shrugged, “I don’t see it. He’s not mine though. She was screwing everyone on the island. There’s no telling who the father is.” He tried to keep up with the lie, but Topper wasn’t stupid. Topper knew you weren’t sleeping around, you’d never been like that. But he let him continue the lie, dropping the topic completely. 

“I bet our kids will be cute.” 

Now that caught his attention. He snaps his head toward her, “What?�� 

Sofia smiles, “When we have kids, I bet they will be cute.” She’s in dreamland, wondering what life with Rafe Cameron would be like. Getting married, having a big house on the island, having kids etc etc. Little did she know, Rafe wasn’t planning a future with her. 

He nod and takes another sip of his beer, deciding not to say anything. 

“Jackson wait-” 

Rafe turns in time to see a ball rolling his way and Jackson chasing it. You weren’t too far behind. 

Rafe bends down and picks up the ball, staying at Jackson’s level as he approaches. Jackson is hesitant to take it. 

“Jackson, you can’t just run off-” 

Rafe feels like he’s staring at a mirror. Topper’s right, he looks just like him. The little boys eyes are innocent and he’s overcome with a feeling he can’t describe. He feels protective of the small boy in front of him, like a father would. A surge of love flowing through him. How could anyone leave this boy without a dad? How could he have abandoned his son? Something changed the moment he looked into Jackson’s eyes.

“Here you go, buddy,” Rafe holds the ball out to him with a smile. 

Jackson hesitantly takes it, looking up at you, with a small pout on his lips, “Sorry mama, my ball.” 

Rafe slowly stands, the two of you coming face to face for the first time since you told him you were pregnant. 

“It’s ok baby, you just can’t run off like that.” You run your fingers through his hair. You will yourself to meet Rafe’s eyes, “Sorry about that, we’ll get out of your way.” 

“It’s ok.” Rafe can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. Is it possible to be more beautiful? Motherhood treated you well and he’s overwhelmed with pride to know you did it all on your own because of his stupid decision. His stupid immature decision. 

Your eyes glance to Sofia, who steps up next to Rafe, pulling him from his trance, “your son.. he’s adorable.” 

You give her a small smile, “Thank you.” 

Rafe is mesmerized by you. He doesn’t know what’s over come him but the feelings that he buried deep inside have started bubbling to the surface. 

“Jackson, you know you’re not suppose to talk to strangers.” JJ takes a dig at Rafe as he approaches, scooping up Jackson in his arms. 

Rafe’s jaw clenches at JJ’s comment. Stranger. He’s no stranger. He’s his father- but he catches himself. JJ’s right. He truly is a stranger to him and he has no right to call himself his father. 

Jackson wraps his tiny arms around JJ’s neck, snuggling into his shoulder. That stirs some jealousy within Rafe. He should be the one hugging his son and playing ball with him on the beach. He should be the one there, the three of you as a family. 

“We better get back. Sorry for bothering you guys.” You apologized, following JJ back to the rest of the pogues. 

Rafe watches you walk away, his heart aching. He should have told you the truth. And he shouldn’t have lied all these years about Jackson. 

 ~ 

JJ holds Jackson with one arm and wraps his other around your shoulders, “you ok?” 

You nod, “I’m good. You shouldn’t have made the comment you did” 

JJ rolls his eyes, “it’s not like it wasn’t true. He’s a stranger.” 

You shrug, “I know but-“ 

“No buts. He’s a stranger to Jackson. Even if he shares DNA with him.” He snaps back. 

It was a touchy subject with JJ and you knew the conversation was over. JJ was protective over you and he held a huge grudge against Rafe for abandoning the two of you. Especially Jackson. He wanted Jackson to have a dad, something you and him didn’t have growing up. 

~ 

Rafe laid in bed that night with you and Jackson on his mind. He couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning the entire night. Sofia is sound asleep next to him. He squints, peering to check the time on the clock, 6:37 am. He sighs running a hand over his face before quietly getting out of bed and toward the shower. He wanted to see you again and talk. He needed to talk to you. 

“Rafe?” Sofia’s sleepy voice calls out to him, hands feeling his spot on the bed. 

Rafe comes to her side, showered and dressed, kisses her forehead. “Early meeting. Be back later.” 

She hums and turns back over, falling back asleep. 

~ 

He pulls up to the Maybank house a little while later. Glancing over in the passenger seat, coffee for you and him. He hopes you still liked your coffee with 2 creams and 2 sugars. He also picked up some muffins and donuts, unsure what Jackson would like. 

He was nervous, gripping the steering wheel. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. He can still turn around and go home. You don’t even know he’s here yet. 

He shakes his head, no there’s no talking him out of this. He needs to have this talk. He’s 2 years two late. Technically almost 3 years. 

Well shit there’s no turning around now cause here you come walking toward his truck. He takes a deep breath, now or never. 

He steps out of the truck, “morning.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask tightening your robe around you, “it’s nearly 7:30 in the morning.” 

“Brought coffee and breakfast.” He says, reaching inside to grab the coffee and bag. “I was hoping we could talk?” 

“Now you want to talk? You’re a couple years too late Rafe.” You’re eyeing the coffee, yearning for your boost of caffeine. 

He sighs, “I know, I have no right to show up here unannounced either but, after seeing you guys yesterday I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He offers the coffee, “two cream and two sugar?” 

You nod, slowly reaching to take the coffee, “you still remember?” You ask, surprised. Even after all these years he remembered? You felt a soft tug on your heart. No y/n. You tell yourself, smooshing those feelings back down. It was not the time to go soft. 

He shrugs, also handing you the bag of muffins and donuts, “It’s not the hardest coffee order, but yes I still remember. There’s muffins and donuts in there, I wasn’t sure-” He scratches the back of his neck, growing uncomfortable, “I wasn’t sure what Jackson liked.” 

“He’s a fan of both. He pretty much will eat anything,” You turn and head for the porch, “Everyone is still asleep, let me put this inside and we can go to the dock.” 

Rafe nods and takes the time to check out what all you two have done with the place. It was different than when he was here last, new dock and boathouse, the landscaping had been cleaned up and the house actually looked livable. Jackson’s toys were strewed around the grass. 

“ready?” You ask, heading down toward the dock, Rafe following. You two take a seat on the bench at the end of the dock. 

“So, now that Jackson is older, people are starting to notice how much he looks just like you. You can’t keep up with whatever lie you’ve been spreading. Are you here to try and make me come up with an excuse for where his father is? So, you can go about your life?” You ask, bitterly. 

“No, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to step up and apologize. And explain my immature behavior.” He stands back up, pacing the dock in front of you. His nerves are getting the best of him. He had this speech all planned out but sitting in front of you, he’s forgot what to say. “I wasn’t in the right head space. And I for sure wasn’t ready to be a father. You saw what I was like. I was drinking, partying. Hell, I was even doing coke at that point.” 

You sit quietly, sipping your coffee as you listen to him. It wasn’t anything you didn't know, to tell you the truth. You also were doing all those things at the time, minus the coke, but as soon as you found out you were pregnant, you’d stepped up and knew all of that had to come to an end. You were going to be a mother. 

“I was doing the same things, Rafe. I don’t see that being an excuse. I stepped up when I needed to because I had too. It was something you needed to do as well, but you weren’t ready to give up that life yet. You weren’t ready to give up your lifestyle to become a father.” 

“I know. and that’s the truth, I didn’t want to give up my partying lifestyle for a kid. I was also scared what people would think of me, getting a girl from the cut pregnant. No one even knew we were dating-” 

“So you were ashamed of me? You’re really not doing yourself any favors right now-” You scoffed, standing, “I get it, Rafe. It would have been the worst thing for a kook to get a pogue pregnant. People would have judged you and never looked at you the same-” You turn to head back toward the house. “I’m so tired of this kook vs pogue bullshit.” 

“Baby-” He gently grabs your arm to stop you, letting the pet name slip, “I mean y/n- That’s not what I was trying to say. Fuck, this is not how I wanted this to go. Please, I’m trying to apologize. I was an immature kid back then and I’m here now to apologize, make things right and take responsibility.” 

“Rafe,” you sigh, “we’re doing fine right now. Without having you in our lives. We’ve made it work. It’s been 3 years, just let it go. I’ll keep on with the lie, you can continue to live your life how you want. Get married, have other kids. Whatever you want to do.” 

“I don’t want to do that, y/n. That’s what I’m here for. I want to be apart of Jackson’s life. A part of your life.” His hand has slipped down from your arm to your hand, his thumb subconsciously caressing your skin. “Please give me another chance. I’ve changed. I promise I’m not the man I was before. My dad has made me a manager at his company. I have a steady job, a house of my own. I’m not the immature teenager I was before.” His eyes are pleading for another chance to do the right thing.

You don’t know how to describe it as you stare into Rafe’s eyes, that they look the same as they did when you fell in love with him, but have a different softness to them. He’s genuine. But you don’t know if you can trust him. He broke you and you weren’t ready to open those doors again. You weren’t ready to open yourself back to him. You had Jackson to think about now and had to take his feeling into account. Could you trust Rafe? 

“What about Sofia? What does she think of all this?” You remove your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest. “She seems like a great girl.” 

“If I’m honest with you, I haven’t talked to her about it. Me and her aren’t serious.” 

“Maybe you should go home and talk things over with her. I can’t make a decision now. I need time to think it over.” 

His shoulders sag in defeat, but he ultimately nods, “Take all the time you need.. I’ll be here waiting.” 

~ 

Rafe left your house and immediately went to Tannyhill, hoping he could catch his dad before leaving for his meeting at 11. “Morning Rose,” He greets as he enters the kitchen, Rose is drinking coffee at the island, Wheezie next to her. He kisses Wheezie on the head, “Wheezie,” 

“Morning,” They say in unison. 

“Is Dad still here?” 

“In his office,” Rose nods, “He had a couple things to finish before the meeting.” 

“Thanks,” Rafe heads toward his office, knocking, “Dad?” 

“Come in,” Ward calls out, “Morning Rafe, you ready for the big meeting this morning?” 

“Ready. But I was hoping to talk to you about something.” He takes a seat across from Ward’s desk. Ward can tell there is something on his son’s mind and closes his laptop to give his full attention. 

“What’s going on?” 

Rafe takes a deep breath, clasping his hands together to stop them from shaking, “You know y/n Maybank?” 

“Yes-” Ward says, leaning forward a little, “What about her?” 

“Me and her dated a few years ago.”

“Mmhmm.” ward nods, “What about it?” 

Rafe takes another deep shaky breath. Ward begins to think about it, remembering she had a son. Who was about 3- 

“The boy- Jackson. He’s yours?” Ward asks in disbelief. 

Rafe gives a short nod, “I fucked up.” 

Ward slowly sits back in his chair, taking it all in. Old Ward would have blown up, told Rafe how stupid could he have been. “How long have you known?” He asks. 

“Since she told me she was pregnant.” He can’t help but get teary eyed, still on edge as he waits for his dad to blow up on him. “I told you I fucked up.” 

Ward mulls over this new and shocking information. “Why wouldn’t you say anything?” Ward asks. 

“I was terrified. Immature. I didn’t want to be a dad. I was partying all the time and wasn’t ready to give it up and be a dad.” He tells him honestly, “It was a shitty decision and I regret it.” 

“You should have took responsibility son.” He sighs, “But I know you weren’t in the right head space.” He stands and rounds his large desk, taking the seat next to his son, “Rehab changed you for the better.” 

Rafe nods, “I’m trying to fix things. I want to be in his life. I went to her this morning and we talked. She’s hesitant to give me a chance.” 

“She has every right to be hesitant.” Ward defends, you, “That’s her son.” 

“He’s mine too,” Rafe says, but sighs, “But you’re right. It is her son. I’ve given her no reason to trust me.” 

Ward nods, “Time will give her that. You’ve done the hardest part. Admitted you were wrong and apologized.” He squeezes Rafe’s shoulder, “It’s time for you to take responsibility.” 

Rafe nods in response, “I’m sorry dad. I should have told you the truth.” 

Ward agrees. He gives Rafe a small smile, “So I have a grandson, huh?” 

~ 

Rafe was in agony. It had been a week since he talked to you. You hadn’t tried reaching out yet and he was starting to get worried that you weren’t going to give him a second chance. He’d called it quits with Sofia, who didn’t take it easily, but she admitted she knew she’d seen a change in him after the beach day. And had admitted she’d wondered about Jackson. She saw the resemblance and the way Rafe had looked at you. He was still in love with you. 

You’d told the Pogues that morning over breakfast, JJ had flipped. 

“Like hell he deserves another chance!” 

“JJ, you don’t get to make the decision, I do.” 

JJ had left with a slam of the front door. He come back a couple hours later, calm and agreed. It wasn’t his place, but he still didn’t trust him. He didn’t want to see you hurt again. 

JJ had left with a slam of the front door. He come back a couple hours later, calm and agreed that it wasn’t his place, but he still didn’t trust him. He didn’t want to see you hurt again. 

~

Your heart is pounding against your chest as you take the stairs up to Rafe’s front door. You looked around the outside of the house. It was a nice, expensive house on the water. Two story on stilts as most houses near water are built. 

His truck was parked under the house so you knew he was home. 

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

Rafe was surprised to see you at his front door. It had been a week and he was beginning to wonder if you were even gonna make a decision. The longer it took the more he felt he wasn’t going to get his second chance. 

“Hey,” 

“Hey,” you point inside, “can I come in so we can talk?” 

“Yeah yeah of course.” He opens the door wider for you to enter, closing it behind you. 

The place was clean and sleek. It looked like a bachelor pad. 

“You want anything to drink? I’ve got water, juice, a beer..” he chuckles softly, motioning to the kitchen. 

You follow him into the kitchen, “Water is fine,” You lay your purse in the chair at the island. “I’m gonna be honest, I’m nervous.”

He fixes you a glass of water and you take a chance to look around the room. 

“no need to be nervous,”

You see in the corner of the living room there’s a small kids battery powered jeep and a couple other shopping bags around it. 

He sees you have noticed the stuff and slides the water to you, “my dad.. he uh he bought it for Jackson and Rose picked up a few things for him too.” 

“Thats’s very sweet of them. But wait, you told your dad?” You’re surprised and look to him, “I thought you hated him.. you guys didn’t have a great relationship.” 

“We patched things up after I got back from rehab.” 

“Rehab?” You ask shocked, “I didn’t know, when did you go to rehab?” 

He clears his throat, “few months after we broke up. Or I broke things off. Ward found me half dead on some laced coke I bought and when I woke up he made me go to rehab. Best decision I could have made.” 

“That’s awesome, Rafe. Im happy for you. I know having a better relationship with your dad was what you always talked about wanting.” You give him a soft smile. 

“Yeah yeah it’s good now.” He heads toward the back deck overlooking the water and you follow taking in the view but Rafe, he’s watching you, taking you in. 

You catch him watching you and can’t help but blush, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

Now he blushes, embarrassed he’d been caught, “sorry, we can sit here to talk.” He takes a seat on the couch and you take a seat on the other side. 

You take a deep breath, “I’ve done a lot of thinking over this.” 

He nods, hands clasped together he places his elbows on his thighs leaning closer, “yeah?” 

You look at him, “We’ll start out easy and slow. He’s not to know you’re his dad yet. I want him to be comfortable with you. He doesn’t truly understand the whole dad thing either, so I don’t want to confuse him. We call all hang out together first and then if I feel comfortable enough maybe you can take him on your own for a couple hours. I don’t trust you yet, Rafe. You broke that trust and I need time. But I believe everyone deserves a second chance. And I want Jackson to grow up with a dad who loves him. Something JJ and I didn’t have growing up.” 

He resists every muscle in his body not to hug you. “I can be that. I will be that.” 

He reaches over and you let him take your hand, “thank you for this.” He gives it a gentle squeeze, “you don’t know how much this chance means to me.”

~ 

A couple days later you and Jackson meet Rafe at his house, planning to spend the day there. Rafe had asked you a million questions about Jackson; his likes, dislikes, what toys he liked to play with, what he liked to do. He wanted to know as much as he could so he could be prepared for today. 

“Hey!” Rafe greets at the door, “What’s up little man?” 

Jackson’s shy at first and he peeks out from your shoulder at Rafe, muttering a quiet, “Hi.” 

“He’s a little shy. And he just woke up from a nap.” you follow Rafe inside and he helps to take the bag off your shoulders. 

“It’s all good. I understand.” He nervously wipes his hands on his shorts, “I got his favorite foods. The kitchen is stocked and-” 

“Toys!” Jackson gasps, wiggling out of your arms and immediately taking off toward the pile of toys. The jeep Ward bought him was there and a couple other new toys Rafe picked up.  

“Can I play?” Jackson asks, his eyes lighting up. 

“They’re yours! You can play with them all. After lunch we can take that jeep outside and you can ride around the yard.” Rafe says, taking a seat on the couch to watch him. 

“You didn’t have to get all these...” You sit next to Rafe. 

Rafe shrugs, “I know but he didn’t have anything here. I want him to be comfortable.” He slips off the couch and sits in the floor next to Jackson, helping him open the toys. Rafe teaches him how to play with a couple of them, showing him how they work. 

You couldn’t believe the change in Rafe. It was like a different man sitting in the floor. And the resemblance between the two was uncanny. Both had the same look of concentration on their face and you laughed softly to yourself after snapping a picture. Sarah had asked how it was going, so you sent her the picture. She was happy to know her brother was stepping up and also made a comment about their same look of concentration. 

As you stared at Rafe, a new feeling was starting to take form. A longing for something more and hope that maybe you could get your happy ever after and your dream of a family to become a reality.

Comments, likes, & reblogs are always greatly appreciated! I love to read your thoughts on it. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I love writing toxic people.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

��Mr. Hansen--” You begin, choking on your error, “Lloyd, my flight--” 

“Christ, I told you, cancel it. I’ll add the difference to your next check,” he grits under his breath. 

You plant your feet, shifting despite your effort as he keeps his grip on your hand. He turns back with a grunt. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks. 

“No, what are you doing?” You throw back. “What the hell is going on?” 

“First, watch that sweet mouth of yours. Second, we’ve been through this, Pixie pie. You just need to play along,” he keeps his voice low and peeks over his shoulder. “Loosen up a bit.” He loosens his hold on you and runs his hand up your sleeve. “Hm, I guess I shoulda told you to dress up a bit.” 

“What?” You look down at your black cotton tea-length dress. You chose it for comfort but it’s not entirely frumpy. The ribbed stockings might not add much to the attire however. 

“Just...” He grabs your shoulders and nudges them back, “push the chest out a bit.” 

“Ugh,” you clasp onto his wrists, “stop. Okay. I’ll stay for dinner but I can’t miss my flight--” 

“You have to,” he argues. 

“You realise this is wildly inappropriate,” you say. 

“Do you really expect anything different?” He tweaks a brow. “You’re staying. I’m not doing this alone. I put it off for a decade already--” 

“Jesus--” 

“No blasphemy either,” he lets go of you and presses his finger to your lips. You growl and shove his hand away. 

“I want a bonus, a big bonus--” 

He hushes you and waves his hands. He leans back and once more looks over his shoulders. “Later. We’ll deal with numbers in private. Right now, you need to come meet your in-laws.” 

You squint at him. It’s an act, you remind yourself, but something about his commitment to it makes you uneasy. You know better than to believe a word that comes out of his mouth but there’s a degree of earnestness in him that’s unsettling. 

“Baby, please, don’t look at me like that,” he steps closer, “I need you to look at me like I’m the second coming, okay? We’re madly in love, you and I.” Your eyes widen and he sighs, “okay, you’re not scared of me.” 

You neutralise your expression and blow out a long breath. You shake away the tension and shrug. It’s as good as you can do. 

“Here,” he grabs your wrist and turns, guiding your arm through his, “just smile pretty for me.” 

He hooks your elbow with his and urges you onward. You steel yourself for the room of strangers as their voices drift through the archway.  

You enter the front room and quickly scan the space; there’s a large-mouthed hearth, lit and draped in evergreen and berries; a long cream sectional, a matching duo of armchairs, and a chaise in the same shade; a low glass coffee table with a golden perch and a console table in a similar style along the wall crowded with bottles and crystal; an area rug in a smooth white with patterns in dulcet beige and rich butterscotch; and the low din is cast by tea lights daintily set around the space in glass holders and candelabra. 

More pressing than the decor are the bodies that fill the room. You recognise Ransom as he speaks with an older woman with short white hair and thick-framed glasses. She wears a red pantsuit with a gold blouse. Very festive. 

You glance over at Lloyd and take him in fully. You hadn’t paid much attention for the whirlwind all around. He wears a pair of evergreen slacks and a sweater with a reindeer's face on the front. He wouldn’t even let you put tinsel on your desk but now he’s dressed like a kid in a holiday parade. 

“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo,” a tall blonde woman approaches with a glass of pale wine in hand. You try not to look with concern at her rounded middle; it sticks out starkly as her long limbs are thin and lithe. “A very grim Christmas indeed.” 

“Lillian,” Lloyd faces the woman about his own height. She has his eyes and his lips. You assume their relation before he declares it. “My sister, Pixie,” he gestures to her carelessly. 

“Older sister,” she preens and rests her hand on her swollen stomach. Your eyes flick away from the crystal in her hand. 

“By about thirty-one seconds,” Lloyd scoffs. 

“Oh, sweetie, it’s non-alcoholic,” she swirls the wine in her glass, “she’s so tiny and quiet.” 

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

She laughs, “oh, so polite. Entirely not his type.” 

You try not to react. You agree. You know the women that Lloyd really likes. You’ve screened their calls until they just give up on getting a second date. 

“Believe it or not, Lil, you’re not everyone’s type,” Lloyd retorts. “I think your ex-husband would agree. The second one too.” Lloyd lifts his chin and looks around, “is the third here or are we on number four?” 

“Lovely,” she spits. “Love you too, brother.” 

He shakes his head and draws you away from her. She raises her brows and her glass and sips. You let him take you away. You already despise most of these people. The room radiates with derision. Your family might have some grudges but there’s a general air of good will. 

“I need a drink,” he mutters. 

You gladly follow him to the table. He pours himself a tumbler from the boxy decanter. He sighs as he picks it up but stops himself from drinking. 

“Well, help yourself,” he says. 

You hesitate but not for long. You need something if you’re going to get through this. You pour yourself some chardonnay and sidle away from the table. You check your watch as you raise your glass. 

“Don’t fucking worry about your flight,” he hisses under his breath. “If I’m not getting out of this, you aren’t either.” 

“But why?” You ask behind the glass. 

“Not right now,” he warns and nods at another figure as they approach. “Uncle Benson.” 

“Junior,” the man returns. You drink your wine and don’t comment on the epithet. “Where’s the old man?” 

“Where he always is,” Lloyd replies. 

“Mm, and this is...” the older man looks at you pointedly, dipping his chin to do so. 

“Pixie. My fiancee,” Lloyd answers dully, almost deflating. 

“Benson,” the man offers his hand, “but a pretty girl like you can call me Benny.” 

“Benny,” Lloyd repeats to himself in confusion. 

You shake Benson’s hand, “um, thanks, nice to meet you.” 

“Mm, very nice to meet you,” he lifts your hand and smushes his lips to your knuckles. He clings to you, petting your hand. “You’re gorgeous, what’re you doing with this lump?” 

“Uncle,” Lloyd drones. 

“Adorable,” Benson inches closer, “my inheritance is bigger than his, among other things.” 

“Alright,” Lloyd snatches your hand away from him, “go have some water, Benson,” he growls, “think you’ve been into the brandy.” 

“I’d like to get into something else,” Benson snickers. 

You almost laugh, despite your disgust. You’ve heard that line before. Lloyd puts himself between you and the older man. “I think that’s why Carolyn filed the papers, huh.” 

“Oh, you little twat,” Benson snarls. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to disappoint her on your own.” 

Lloyd tuts and shakes his head as the man lumbers off. He turns around and drains his glass. It’s strange, seeing him in his natural habitat; he’s not so ‘alpha’ here. 

“Let’s get the rounds over with.” He grumbles. 

Your wine lasts you through the introductions. Two more uncles; Carter and Linus, along with their wives, Andrea and Angela. Then the full-blooded aunts; four of them, Raquel, Shanna, Beatrice, and Lana. All of them tall, blonde, and bold in their own way. Then a batch of cousins you can’t keep sorted; Ransom and his mother Linda, among them, with no explanation as to the rest of their tribe. 

Lloyd pours himself more whiskey. You abstain from a refill and stand near the wall, observing the wilderness of entitled trust-funders. It explains so much yet inspires so many more questions. You never expected Lloyd to be the dark horse. 

“Lonely?” The timbre startles you along with the twisting pinch on your ass.  

You yipe and snag the attention of several sets of eyes around the room, not least of all Benson, drooling over another snifter of dark alcohol. You swat Ransom’s hand away and face him amid the row of laughter. Despite the airs they put on, your audience is more amused than appalled. 

“Where’s your prince, huh?” Ransom asks. “All that whiskey and...” He holds up his index then lets it go limp, “don’t think it’ll be a very peppy after party, sweetheart.” 

You sniff and cross your arms. These people are at least consistent, grossly so. It makes you wonder why Lloyd was so insistent that you watch your mouth, especially when you’ve never stooped to his level before. 

“Is it much of a party if there’s only one attendee?” You counter. 

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “what?” 

“Nothing,” you shake our head. You don’t need to explain the joke. Besides, this is all fake. Don’t let it get to you. 

“So, how long did he wait to put that ugly thing on your finger?” Ransom asks. 

You shrug, “long enough.” 

“Did he do the whole schtick? Get down on one knee? Put the ring in your wine glass?” He prods. 

“I’ll let him tell the story,” you say. 

“Hm, never knew a woman so unexcited about a wedding,” he snorts. 

“Maybe I’m just unexcited by my company,” you back away as his hand jiggles at his side. You eye his fingers, wary of another pinch. 

“Fine, marriage is boring anyways. What’s his favourite position? I always figured he lets the ladies do all the work,” he snickers. 

You stare at him. Not quite as offended as annoyed. You could ask him which hand he uses but you are not letting Lloyd drag you that low. Why are you even letting him put your through this? 

“Hugh,” Lloyd appears and slides his arm over your shoulders. 

“Little L,” Ransom retorts dryly. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd sneers as you resist the urge to shrug him off of you. 

“Where were you then? Leaving your woman all on her lonesome,” Ransom rubs his fingers together subtly and you scowl at him. 

“Broke the seal,” Lloyd deflects. “What do you care? You wanna hold it next time? 

“Hands are too big,” Ransom cackles. 

“Speaking of,” you pipe up. “The bathroom, where would that be?” 

Lloyd clucks and looks down at you, “down the hall, opposite the kitchen.” 

“Thanks,” you carefully slip away from him, “I’ll be back.” 

“Wait,” Lloyd catches your arm and pulls you back. “Not without this.” 

He leans in before you can react. He bends to press his lips to yours and you can’t repress a surprised squeak. He purrs and the vibration makes your skin crawl. What on earth?! 

You part and ignore the stares you can feel all around. Not just from Ransom but the rest of the room. What is he doing? That’s so embarrassing. 

You force a smile, “uh, be back.” 

You spin and scurry away. That room, those people, are suffocating, and Lloyd, not least of all. You hide in the bathroom, locking the door, and you take the moment of stillness to think. Big mistake as it all starts to set in. 

You drove all the way here under false pretenses. It’s believable that Lloyd would forget to bring the gifts. That tracks but this? The whole pretending to be engaged? What is his game? Is he really trying to impress anyone or is he torturing you? Why? 

You can’t figure any of it out. You gave up trying to understand your boss ages ago, you suppose you should do the same with these people and just get through this. For all your trouble, the food better be fucking delicious. 

You let yourself out of the bathroom and flatten against the door as you nearly collide with another person. Lillian nearly stomps right over you as she holds her stomach and rushes down the hallway. She lets out a sigh. 

“Oh, are you done in there? I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills. 

“Um, yeah, all done,” you sidle away from the door. 

“Could I trouble you for some help?” She asks. “This thing,” she pats her stomach, “I can get down but I can’t get up.” 

“Hm?” You furrow your brow in confusion, “help?” 

“We’re both girls,” she giggles. “And we’ll be sisters soon enough, won’t we?” 

“Um.” 

“You know, a pregnancy at my age, I really can’t strain myself,” she explains. 

“Oh, er, I guess--” 

“Thanks, sweetie,” she nudges you back into the bathroom. You have no choice as she heard you through. 

You stare at the wall as she slams the door and hustles over to the toilet. She pulls up her white dress and turns to sit, her silhouette a blur in your peripheral. You flick your eyes to the ceiling and bounce on your heels. 

Her stream flows out and fills the tense silence. She sighs. 

“Thank the lord,” she groans. “I swear, the little twerp is right on my bladder right now.” 

“Mm,” you nod and glance at the door. 

“I knew we should’ve gone with a surrogate,” she sniffs. “A piece of advice, when he puts one in you, make him suffer.” 

“Puts one...” you blink. “Um, I don’t...” 

“I mean, he’ll have to start trying as soon as the wedding night,” she laughs. “He’s getting up there. His swimmers won’t be as fast, will they? And the way he drinks, they’ll be too groggy to know which way is which.” 

“Um, we’ll worry about the wedding first--” 

“Enjoy it. Once you’re tied down, it’s not very much fun,” she says as she tears of tissue. “Alright then, darling, I need you.” 

You do your best not to see all of her. She reaches for you and you get close. You pull her up to her feet and she squeezes past you to the sink. You look at the toilet and shut the lid, flushing it with a push of the button. She washes her hands with a hum. 

“You’ll be so adorable when you’re big. Like an overstuffed teddy bear,” she chimes. “He’ll love that. He always did hate feeling small.” She twists off the faucet and dries her hands. “You must make him feel like the man he wishes he was.” 

You just look at her. You have no true reason to defend Lloyd, but because she’s so smug it irks you. You look her in the face, even if you feel ridiculous having to look up. 

“Well, he can piss on his own, so I think he’s just fine,” you step around her and swing open the door. The silence that follows you is the only satisfying thing about that night. 

[therapyandprozac]

Title: Daddy

Rating: Explicit Smut

Warnings: Daddy kink ofc, Edging, Teasing, Praise kink, Toys, Light BDSM

Words: 1.2k

I didn’t add a name so this is for any fandom or character you wish! (is there a word for this?)

Posted before I could think too much about it 🙈 enjoy ☺️

“Can we talk about something?”

“Yes, love!” He smiles and focuses his attention on you. You blush, you’ve been practicing this conversation in your head for days but you still instantly turn bright red. Doing everything to avoid eye contact you cover your face with your hands. “Wow baby, look at that blush!” He says pulling your arms away from your face, you pull them back to you. However, he’s substantially stronger than you are and easily exposes your face. “What is it?” A huge smile crosses his face.

“I umm,” you start. He guides you to taking a few breaths and staring at the couch. “Well, we’ve been together for a while. We’ve talked about and have done…stuff…” You feel yourself turn into a tomato again as he smirks.

“We have indeed done ‘stuff.’” He laughs.

“What do you want me to call you?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut.

“What do you mean love?” He asks, trying to understand your vague question.

“Like umm, like daddy or sir or something.” You pause and he stays quiet. Your heart races and you jump into a mini rant. “I just the last time we-, you were very…I don’t know...in character and I wanted to call you a title but I didn’t know which of them, if any, you wanted.” You rattle off incredibly fast before being abruptly stopped by the softest lips you’ve ever felt. A familiar feeling of the anxiety of finishing the question, waves away like a rolling tide, the only thing you needed was for him to respond.

“That,” His voice is deep in an almost growl as he continues. “Is an excellent question. No need for blushes or hiding, you can ask me anything without worry, my love.” He cups your cheek. “Which do you prefer?” He asks, his voice coated in velvet. You blush even deeper and look back at the couch quickly. He raises an eyebrow and repeats the question. You don’t answer, way too embarrassed. He waits a few beats before continuing “Would it help if I told you my favorite?” He whispers against your mouth.

You nod rubbing your nose against his. His pupils flutter as he leans forward and bites your ear gently. “Daddy.” He growls. His voice has a that sultry gravel that he only gets when he’s about to fuck you until you can’t walk. You moan and grind against nothing. He takes that as a sign and grabs you so you’re straddling him.

“You’re so hot when you’re too embarrassed to talk. You talk to people for a living, doll.” He nuzzles and kisses your neck as a blush covers your chest and cheeks. “But when you’re here…with me. You can barely put two words together.” You reach your hand down and palm him through his jeans, his breath quickens and he groans.

“Bed?” You whimper. He nods and follows you up the stairs to your room. Stripping along the way, once you get to the room you’re both completely naked. He pushes you against the door, he puts his thigh between your legs for you to grind against. You moan and whisper “Please…daddy,”

“Yes?” He says as if you aren’t coming undone on his leg.

“Please fuck me, god I need you.”

“As you wish.” He says and tosses you on the bed before he kneels in front of your glistening pussy. He gently runs his tongue up the entirety of your cunt. He toys with your clit making you squirm and beg for more. Quick flicks and slow licks, you love how he takes his time and savors every gasp and whine. He slowly puts two long, thick fingers inside, you groan and roll your hips. He plays your body perfectly massaging your g spot and clit with his thumb. All the while taking each of your hands and cuffing them to the bed. He brings you so close with rhythmic, well practiced precision before rapidly pulling his fingers out of you.

“Nope not yet,” he stands up, licking his fingers and smirking. “I am quite proud of you.” He opens a box with a ribbon on it and pulls out a big pink…something. He’s far away but all questions resolve when you hear the vibrations. He turns around delicately playing with the shaking, not so delicate object in his hands as he continues.

“I’m sure that question was burning in your brain for a while, wasn’t it.” You nod. “I can’t hear you, my sweet thing.” He says in a gentle sing-songy voice (think moriarty) as he walks slowly toward you.

“Way too long.” You whimper, already a desperate mess.

“I can hear you pacing, in the elevator at work…” He steps closer and massages the rumbling toy in his hand.

“You mumble under your breath, rehearsing it in the tub, the car…maybe even our last few times.” You instantly blush so deeply. “Hmm that looks like a yes.” You go to cover your eyes but you're stopped by the cuffs.

“Was daddy your favorite too?” You nod frantically with needy groans. Watching his hands get closer to your cunt, he stops and turns the vibratior off.

“Why?” You whine.

“There’s your beautiful voice!” He exclaims. “When I ask you questions,” he runs his fingers gently up from your legs, across your stomach, between your tits and up your neck, placing it finally and firmly to the side of your head to balance himself steadily above you.

“It’s because I want to hear your answers, doll.” He leans in and rests just above your lips, you feel his breath on your lips. “So I ask again, what was your favorite one?” He whispers, the faint minty and familiar feeling of him talking into your mouth washes over you. You smile under his lips and gather all of the brat and (something)) energy you’ve pent up, sass laced tongue and with direct eye contact.

“Daddy.” The smugness falls from your face when you hear the vibratior turn on. A dark and twisted semi sadistic smile covers his face. He breathes in the moment time feels stopped while he looks you over. Light perspiration and pleading eyes, he loves teasing and gentle mind games with his desperate little plaything.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” His voice runs across gravel as he pins the toy to your clit. You cry out and immediately hold your breath to silence yourself. “Breathe baby!” You gasp and when you catch your breath you muffle yourself again and groan under your voice.

“For the love of,” he pulls the toy away and you whine. He taps your clit with the device making a rhythm of whines and groans spill from you. He goes on too long just teasing and taunting…edging you. He hasn’t edged you in so long.

“Oh god yes please, more daddy please please!!”

“Yes, beautiful sweetheart,” he whispers and bites your ear lobe, continuing his tormenting of your clit. You moan and pant heavily, after one deep breath and turning the vibrator to its max setting, you’re so so close, teetering on the edge until he groans against your ear. “Cum for me, my sweet girl.” Your brain snaps and you cum loudly with your nails digging into his skin a little of his blood runs under your nails. You nearly wail as the first orgasam of a very long night rips through your body.

[themintman]

My opinions on some ships and characters 😼😼😼

Ill explain some stuff in the tags if yall are curious hehe ALSO IN THE REBLOGS. TUMBLR SILENCED ME 😔💔

Template by @stervil !!!

[beabnormal24]

I don’t like to hate on people because this world is already bad enough without hate in it, so I want to specify that this is not hate against Charles but against the absurd and unbelievable and completely illogical takes people are sharing here.

1) Carlos’ Mexico win was gifted by Charles.

I’m sorry but WHAT? Pole position, leading almost EVERY lap was a gift from Charles?

This is such a creative way to disrespect your own favourite driver because you really think he would stoop so low to gift a win? Wow, interesting.

“Carlos started crying on the radio.” He said there was a problem with the lift and coast, which was much more needed than he had expected, and rightly communicated it to the engineers, the same lift and coast that Charles refused to do properly for a few laps until the gradient of temperature was too large to be easily recovered and ended up with him falling behind in times until Lando reached him and overtook him.

(Thermodynamical parenthesis: keeping the mass and the coefficients of exchange fairly constant, which we can approximate in the case of a race car that goes at the same speed and only loses a few kilos because of graining, the greater is the gradient, the greater is the driving force and therefore the corresponding force to oppose in order to overcome it, which means the greater the time to do it)

2) Carlos’ Australia win was gifted by Charles.

Wait a second, you mean that the team has the possibility to have the first 1-2 in years, the first win after Singapore, the first great success of Ferrari after a whole 2023 season where there had been a clear lack of it, and them saying to Charles “please don’t fight [and fuck everything up]” means that Charles gifted the win?

Again, how much do you respect your favourite driver?

(Racing parenthesis: Charles ended with a gap of +2.366s, I won’t add anything to this)

3) Carlos doesn’t care about the WCC

With his pit-stop call (that was not even followed by the team) there was a high probability he would’ve ended up in front of Lewis, or at the very least he would’ve had the possibility to fight for the second place, which would’ve meant at least +3 points than the ones they actually obtained, so a gap to McLaren in the Constructor Championship narrowing to 21 points and considerably more chances to actually win it in the last two races.

But, you know, it’s just mathematics, what do I know?

Edit:

4) if Ferrari wins WCC they have to thank Leclerc

Yes because Carlos did *not* win two races and he did *not* have 8 podiums, absolutely not, all the points were given by Charles what are you saying?

(Oh, and let’s also remember that Carlos could not attend one (1) of the races because he had appendicitis and then he went and won the race right after a surgical operation…)

[multiverse-sparkles]

Belonging — S. Rogers

summary: steve had left you for a time that had forgotten him, with only a letter as an explanation. you were given another him, in another universe.

pairings: steve rogers x reader

warnings: angst, very lazy summary, read for a sexy steve! alternate earth, stark reader, eventual soft!dark themes.

“please state your name and where you came from,” the agent utters, tone void of any humane emotion as he gestures to the camera silently mocking you, as it blinked rapidly.

still rubbing your sore wrist, you kept your lips pressed together hoping to make this as unpleasant as you could. you'd been rudely transported into this warped timeline as you were being tossed into the air by a combat robot you used for training; you doubted the pile of metal and wires had the capability nor the powers to hurl you in another dimension, but you were still tossed, rather roughly on your ass.

yet before you even had the chance to process anything, or launch a defensive attack; several high powered guns were pointed at your person, and you were knocked out cold and brought to this interrogating facility.

SHIELD, you bitterly came to the conclusion. you were familiar with their protocols, their interrogation tactics, and their structure of their facility. you'd trained and worked several missions and recon assignments with some of the agents you've seen decorating their halls; even being ushered by colleagues you've shared stale coffee with, but they didn't know you here.

and you've simply reached the desired conclusion; this was an unfamiliar world.

though you have been leading a somewhat destructive life after losing nearly everything after the battle with the mad titan, there was still some self preservation left in you, and you didn't want to totally be obliterated in this foreign world with no body for pepper to mourn with.

what did taylor swift say? play stupid games, win stupid prices.

until you could communicate with friday, or be sure that you're totally safe here, you were going to be the most silent and unhlepful captive these walls have ever seen.

“state your name and where you came from.” the agent bellows firmly.

“what year is it?” you tilt your head, he purses his lips in thought, looking at you as if you're something foreign; then uttering the year.

“huh. so thanos was three years ago?” you breathe, “you guys beat him too?”

the agent looked at you with a suddenly, surprised expression.

“take my blood; run your tests. when you get the result, bring me your highest ranking officer.” you demand.

"tony has a daughter." sam balks in disbelief, his mouth gaping in scandal at the mere prospect of tony's many exploits coming into fruiton. "an adult daughter."

"old news, small head big body." bucky snorts, putting the weights down. sam bristles, a snarky reply tethering on his tongue, yet steve interrupts.

"it's the worst kept secret around the compound." steve remarks amusedly, somehow finding the fact that covert special agents become loose lipped when it came to gossip. "the lesser known fact however, is where she came from." he grabs his flask, and sat upright from the bench, and rehydrated.

the other savory details of your appearance had been limited to a few people; mostly the avengers and the key personnel involved. they hadn't yet realized the reason as to why you'd be in another dimension entirely unprompted. and while they knew time travel was possible, being in an alternate universe was a topic they have yet to dabble in.

so while they try to identify which earth you were originally from, it was better to keep very few people about your origins.

"she just appeared." bucky nods conspiratorially, "an alien, basically."

"basically fit right in." steve shrugs, making light of how many otherwordly being they've encountered over the years. "tony adores her, though." he adds.

"she has everyone eating off her palm, let's be fucking honest." bucky chortles, "kind. endearing. smart. witty—"

"breathtaking actually." sam adds, recalling when he passed by you in the hallways.

"breathtaking." bucky agrees, smirking. "she's every bit of a stark. so much so, she hates steve's guts."

steve huffs, "hate is a strong word."

"you're right. she's incredibly polite, it's almost rude." bucky grins, making no effort to hide the fact that he enjoyed your interactions with steve.

you wouldn't be rude— no, you were the furthest thing from it. you would use honorifics even, call him captain or simply mr. rogers. your hostility with steve would be pronnounced every way that mattered, and bucky could tell it was starting to make steve flustered.

being captain america came with both adoration and hostility— the public either loved him or hated him, and he was used to such instances. steve couldn't please everyone afterall.

the way you looked at him though; it was more than animosity. it felt almost like.. like a scorned lover.

"oh fuck. i knew i shouldn't have been in that mission." sam chortles, while steve grumbles in annoyance. "went out of town once and i miss all these juice." he giggles, and bucky mirrors his grin. perhaps the only time they could maintain a conversation without hurling insults, and jabs at eachother; at steve's expense.

bucky gestures, "wanna know the worst part?" sam nods vigorously, "he's hot for her."

steve abruptly drops the weights he'd been using, making sam and bucky pause at the abrupt noise.

"are the both of you in elementary?" he chides, trying to keep his tone even.

"steve and y/n sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—"

"fuck off!"

your nerves settled as soon as the caffeine hits your tongue. your shoulders slumped, tension leaving you altogether, and you sighed a silent prayer.

you were plenty similar to tony when it came down to it; your pet projects had been less important where you came from, but so long as your objective was necessary, you won't sleep unless you achieve it.

now, going home was your primary goal... one you'd worked together with tony. or a moniker of him.

it felt strange to address him that way.

you knew their tony stark was different— their avengers stayed intact for one. but to see him again, his excellent goatie and hear his sharp wit, you'd tackled him in a frantic hug and sobbed so hard, he must have thought you to be lunatic.

tony was briefly informed of your identity, and while it wasn't an instantaneous paternal spark, he had felt for you. he had let you cry all you wanted. he consoled you, if a bit awkwardly. unpracticed, just like he had been when you wound up in his care at thirteen leaving him with primary custody.

just like then, he grew to become fascinated with you. you shared his love for engineering and technology. like the first time, he had spent every free moment he had with you; talking to you, getting you situated, making sure you were well taken care of... it felt like deja vu. and you would, eventually, lose him again.

you didn't exist here, just like he didn't exist back in your earth.

"careful."

"sorry!" your exclamation is abrupt as the paper cup crumbles in your hand, body jerking quickly as you avoid spilling coffee to the stranger. you had been so absentminded, you ran into a person's chest— cool baby blues, and the heroic perfect blonde hair paired with the most annoyingly perfect set of teeth welcomed you as you lifted your gaze.

steve rogers held you by your elbow, keeping you from tripping over yourself, "you alright?"

you felt as if something was lodged in your throat, being this close with him. he smelt unfairly delectable, despite being drenched in sweat.

this cannot be happening.

you squirmed out of his hold, and he politely took back his hand, keeping them to himself. just like you were, he was caught off guard. both by your reaction and his.

steve... steve was another complication. you couldn't get too close to him— there were many things left unsaid between the two of you, and you were terrified you would not be able to treat him fairly.

you were still angry with the choice he made.

when steve never returned from returning the stones; you'd assumed the worst. you would have exhausted every means to bring him back, if not for the letter bucky had given you.

he told you he couldn't stay; he told you he wanted to reclaim everything he's lost. he left you for a time long forgotten, and you never saw him again.

you liked to think you would understand him, if only he had told you. you liked to think you'd understand why he made the choice. it was what he wanted for himself.

yet you wonder, not unselfishly, if steve had loved you the way he had promised he did; if steve had known it would be possible to go back, will he still choose you? had he merely settled... were you just there; available, attached, and so starry eyed, you stoked his ego enough for him to forget momentarily.

for the past few months, all you did was agonize over the very fact; had every moment you spent with him been tainted with pretense and lies?

you entertained the very real prospect that he did not love you— maybe then the ache in your chest would not be replaced with anger.

because if he had loved you, the way he uttered in your skin; in a soft whisper, like a sigh of breath first thing in the morning. in a giddy exclamation, with his lips pressing upon yours. or in a dazed, soft coo as he bats away the exhaustion of the day. in a certain, so sure of a declaration, as he wraps you in a warm embrace... why was it not enough?

if he had loved you so assuredly and devotedly, he did not love you enough to choose you.

seeing another version of steve— adoring, with the same gentle cheer about him, so dreamy and bright, you stumbled.

he was steve... and yet he stayed. he had the same choice, yet he never took it. he didn't have someone like you though; so maybe, you were the offending factor in your version of steve. that made you ache.

"i apologize, captain." you purse your lips.

"nothin' to be sorry for," his tone was with a gentle lilt, "you uh.. liking the caffeine choices so far?" steve inwardly cringes at his attempt for conversation. he hadn't known how to talk to you, or how to make conversation with you— especially when you get that dazed look in your eyes, immedieately followed by a guarded expression as if afraid he would probe into your thoughts.

"it's excellent." you affirm, avoiding his gaze as if scalded. you hid your expression with your cup, and finally, steve reluctantly pries his gaze away from you.

steve walked towards the pantry, if to have something to do with himself, "yeah? half the team lives on the stuff, it's pretty good chunk of the budget." he pulls out a cup from the shelf, "once things get busy, it's not strange to find splatters of blood and torn pieces of clothing lying about. it gets primitive."

you fought off a smile. it was an appropriate retelling of how the team functioned— they were like siblings in a way. they have no problem taking a bullet for eachother, but once the coffee pot runs dry, they're throwing hands. the thought of your closest friends made you relax.

"that sounded wrong, did it?" steve winces, turning around with his own brew in hand. you looked at him with some amusement, hiding half your face in your cup, "no harm in a team bonding activity."

pink tinged his cheeks, "i didn't mean it like that." he flusters easily. the captain reminded you why you were fond of toying with steve. "i don't- i'm not.. i— i hope you don't think i'm inappropriate." his broad shoulders sag, looking at you like a kicked puppy, worried as can be of offending you.

steve was watchful of his language, especially when it came to dames; something about his upbringing being wired into his very psyche.

"i'm a stark, captain. would take a lot more to faze me." your eyes twinkled with mischief, and steve softens, almost awes at the genuine emotion he sees in you.

steve seemed to be the only one you were guarded against, and he'd been inappropriately envious of his teammates. they all talked about you in an excited flurry of retelling, like bucky had said, you had everyone eating off your palm. and he always wondered if he'd get to know you the same.

you caught his expression.. and it was as if a cold bucket of water drenched you.

"uh, i guess.. i have something to do." you gripped your cup, and steve stood straighter, opening his mouth to say something. anything. yet his limbs were faster than his... words. you look at him again, with little to no emotion in your face as he ponders how to make sense of his sneaking intuition as he grips your arm.

"did i do something to you?" steve asks, unable to stop himself.

"you haven't." you murmur, "i'm trying to keep it that way. i know from experience how that worked."

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 14

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

“Kegs have been secured, so we should be good for tonight,” John B announces from where he’s sitting on the steps of the pool, phone in hand as he shoots off some texts.

“Hallelujah,” Isla sounds blandly yet playfully, as she remains laying with her eyes closed on the floaty, enjoying the warmth of the sun against her skin.

“You’re not enthusiastic enough for my liking,” JJ’s voice comes from next to her and, before Isla can even open her eyes, the floaty she’s laying on is suddenly jerked and a shriek escapes Isla, which is silenced when she’s underwater.

She instantly closes her mouth so she doesn’t swallow any water, which roars in her ears and muffles the sound of her friends’ laughter as Isla pushes herself back up before breaking through the surface. “JJ! I’m going to fucking kill you!” she yells, pushing her hair back and wiping the water out of her eyes before she opens her eyes to glare at her best friend roaring with laughter. Kie is pressing her lips together at the other side of the pool, clearly trying to side with her sister but struggling to stifle her laugh.

“I was trying to keep my hair from getting wet, you ass!” Isla growls, tugging at the hair tie that had been keeping her hair up, but now the wet strands were making it hard until she was able to yank it out. No point in keeping it up now.

Now she’s going to have to wash her hair before the party tonight, and her scowl remains on her face while JJ remains grinning widely. “Just making sure you’re wide awake for tonight.”

Isla throws a few more colorful curses at him, but of course he only laughs in return until she splashes him. She swims towards the steps, walking when her feet can touch the ground and walks out of the pool. “Where are you going?” Kie asks.

“Getting something to eat. You want anything?” Isla asks, grabbing her pink towel and drying herself off as much as she can before wrapping the towel around her hips and securing it there. The metal of her necklaces feel cold against her skin, hair wet against the bare skin of her back thanks to the red bikini.

“Diet Coke, please,” her sister calls back.

“Oh, me too, girl!” Cleo adds on from where she’s laying on one of the poolside chairs. 

Isla gives them a two fingered salute, slipping her feet into her flip flops and heads inside the Cameron house through the back French doors. Sarah’s parents are out at work and Wheezie is up in her room, Isla thinks, as she walks into the kitchen and heads towards the fridge.

She opens the fridge door, whistling a tune to herself as she digs through the various items to grab two cans of Diet Coke and puts them on the counter next to the fridge. Isla reaches back inside and grabs one of the chocolate pudding cups, her sweet tooth acting up.

She straightens, peeling off the top cover and dipping her finger into the pudding, scooping some up and putting it in her mouth, licking it clean and humming appreciatively at the chocolaty taste. And then a pair of large, warm, and familiar hands grip her bare waist right above the hem of the towel, and Isla instantly melts when she feels lips on her neck, a blonde hair ducking into view.

Isla’s pulse quickens, pulling her finger out of her mouth as she smiles and whispers, “My friends are right outside, Rafe.”

“We’ll hear anyone if they walk in,” he murmurs, his voice deep and low as he kisses her neck. Isla’s stomach clenches as she sighs contently and leans her head back against him, eyelashes fluttering when he nips gently with his teeth and soothes with his tongue. “I missed you.”

The breath shudders out of her, cheeks warming as she tries not to tighten her grip on the pudding cup lest she squeezes the pudding out of it in response to what Rafe is doing. “You saw me yesterday,” she reminds him through a breathless smile.

“Truth time? It’s getting increasingly impossible to get you out of my mind, Isla,” Rafe says, the heavy honesty in his words making her heartbeat seize for a moment.

He has the fascinating ability to render her speechless. Biting her lower lip, Isla turns in Rafe’s arms to face him, tipping her head back to look up into those pretty blue eyes with that gentle smirk dancing on his lips. “Who would’ve thought Rafe Cameron could be so romantic?” Isla teases, well aware her friends are right outside, but craving the warmth of his body as his arms loop around her waist once more. He scoffs out a laugh, his cheeks slightly pink, and it makes her grin as she places her free hand on his chest. “I think about you all the time, too, you know. It’s very distracting.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs quietly, smiling down as his gaze dips to her lips, the desire evident in his eyes. “Hope you’re not expecting an apology.”

Isla laughs and rises on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, sinking back to her feet when he leans into her, his hands at the small of her back to keep her close. Despite her friends being just outside, the kiss is slow, dragging, tasting each other and reveling in it.

“Okay, okay,” Isla breathes out, reluctantly pulling away from him and slowly opening her eyes. “Very risky. We’re gonna get caught.”

“Scandalous,” Rafe smirks, their moment at the beach flashing through her mind as she laughs breathlessly. As they pull away, both obviously hesitant as the space between them grows, the mischief remains in his eyes as they dip to the pudding cup. “You’re gonna keep that all to yourself, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. She likes that as much as when he calls her baby. Giving an amused, close mouthed smile, she holds the cup out to him. But then he raises an eyebrow at her when their gazes meet, the expectancy obvious in his eyes, and Isla’s stomach dips as she instantly realizes what he’s—silently—asking of her.

Throat drying, Isla dips her finger into the cup, scooping the cold pudding, taking a step closer to him again and raising her chocolate pudding drenched finger, careful not to let any of it drip to the floor. A quiet, almost thrilled laugh escapes her as she rushes out, “Hurry, before—”

Rafe is swift. His larger hand wraps around her wrist, bringing her hand closer to him. His gaze is locked on hers and Isla’s thighs clench when Rafe wraps his lips around her finger. 

Electricity explodes throughout Isla’s body, the breath stalling in her lungs as Rafe’s tongue slides around the digit, cleaning up the pudding that she scooped for him. When she becomes aware of her breathing, it comes out in labored pants, lips parting slightly as Rafe licks her finger clean in the warmth of his mouth. She feels the tightness travel between her legs, pulsing, breathing shallowing out as the smirk is reflected in those wicked blue eyes.

It’s over too quickly, though Rafe takes his sweet time in pulling his mouth off her finger, now clean yet shining with the sleek sheen of Rafe’s saliva. He slowly straightens, rising to his full height, looking down at her with heat darkening his eyes while Isla struggles to get her racing pulse to calm down.

She can’t process a single coherent thought, though she’s vaguely aware she’s probably standing there like an idiot, slightly open mouthed as she tries to get the world to stop spinning so wildly. 

He’s totally going to be the death of her. And judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it—and is proud of it.

“You should get back to your friends,” Rafe quips, leaning back and taking a step away, much to Isla’s dismay. But he’s right, even if she pouts and scrunches her nose in response, which only makes Rafe break out into a devastating grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Isla shakes her head, snatching up the soda cans and tucking them into the crook of her arm against her body while the other hand holds onto the pudding cup she won’t be able to eat now without picturing him. “Asshole,” she hisses, trying to bite back a smile as she moves around him and out of the kitchen, throwing him a grin over her shoulder at the last second before disappearing from his view. She swears she hears him chuckle.

*****

Five hours later, when the sun is gone and the moon has made her appearance, Isla is surrounded by drunk peers at the Boneyard. A few bonfires are scattered around, music playing and drinks being poured. Some take advantage of the kegs, while others brought their own drinks. Isla sits with her sister around one of the fires, her beer cup between her legs but the two of them more so enjoying the joint they pass back and forth.

The party started a while ago and Isla’s only one drink and half a joint in, but it doesn’t stop her gaze from wandering, looking for Rafe. She doesn’t risk trying to be sneaky by pulling out her phone and texting him, not with Kie sitting right next to her. So she just tries to enjoy the party, watching people play games or dance. Her immunity, so to speak, to weed keeps her from losing all of her faculties—unlike Sarah, who takes a few hits and gets lost in her own world filled with giggles.

The summer night chill is drawn away by the warmth of the fire, and Isla enjoys the sound of people talking and music playing mixing with the crash of waves on the shore. The salty breeze dances through Isla’s hair, tickling her cheeks as she passes the joint to her sister, slowly blowing out a puff of smoke as her gaze wanders.

Unsurprisingly, her gaze glances over faces familiar and not, smiling when she spots Pope and Cleo dancing as he twirls her around. Isla’s tongue pokes the inside of her cheek as she searches and is disappointed when she doesn’t spot Rafe. He had said he would be coming tonight, but Isla hasn’t seen him yet. She lets out a quiet breath, gazing wandering up to the sky as she distracts herself by counting the stars she can see. It’s not as though she and Rafe could even hang out closely whenever he comes, just admire each other from a distance and let their eyes do the talking without letting anyone in on their secret.

It’s a fucking pain to be in his vicinity and not being able to do anything about it. Her body craves being near his, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solidness of his body, the electricity of his touch and the flutter in her chest when she sees him smile. To feel all of that, so much, and not being able to do anything about it publicly yet. But soon. Someday. She just needs to figure out how the hell to break the news to her friends and when. Either way, she’s not sure she’ll be prepared for the fall out.

Straightening her head from being tilted back, she tilts it to the side and eyes her sister. The fire glows against Kie’s warm brown skin, the light reflecting in her eyes as she lazily eyes the joint between her fingers. As Isla welcomes the warmth in her own chest—from both the joint and thoughts of Rafe—she finds herself asking, “What’s stopping you from telling JJ how you feel?”

She watches as her sudden question registers on Kie’s face, but Isla couldn’t stop from asking. As she swims in her own feelings for Rafe, how this short time with him has thrilled her, made her happy, in ways she hadn’t seen coming, Isla finds herself wondering about her sister and the boy Kie so obviously likes. Kie and JJ are perfect for each other, balancing each other out when necessary, and it’s frustrating that they’re still dancing around the edge of everything. 

Kie lets out a long sigh, head tilting back and as she uses her free hand to brush back strands of hair that escape the bandeau wrapped around her head. “I don’t know if the time is right,” she says lazily. “Don’t know if he’s ready for something like that yet. He’s dealing with some shit with his dad.”

Isla huffs. “He’s always gonna have shit to deal with when it comes to Luke. You might be waiting forever if you’re waiting on that,” she points out with an arch of her eyebrow.

Kie bumps her shoulder with Isla’s. “Why’s it so important to you, anyway?”

Isla pauses for a brief second, reveling in the haze of the weed that lightens her head, before she decides to be honest. “I want you to be happy. I see the way you two look at each other. Everyone sees it, Kie,” she adds pointedly, though with a gentle smile. “It’s only a matter of time, you know.”

Her sister throws her a look, one that is a mix between wary and bemused as she takes another hit. “What about you, huh?” Kiara counters, raising an eyebrow. “You’re so obsessed with my love life, what’s going on in yours? Anyone keeping you busy?”

Isla pushes aside the way her heart skips a beat, Rafe’s face flashing through her head upon hearing Kie’s question. Somehow, though, she manages to keep her cool, her smile at ease as she gives a single shoulder shrug. “Nope. I’m just enjoying the summer with you guys before college starts.”

It’s a lie—a big one. It tastes a little bitter, but right now, it’s necessary.

Kie groans, face scrunching and throwing her head back before she shakes it. “God, please, summer only just started. Don’t talk about college.” Huffing out a breath, she says, “But I mean, come on—there’s a lot of potential out here, no?” She spreads her arm out, gesturing around them. “You could find someone.”

Except Isla already has, but Kie can’t know that. “I’m good,” Isla snorts out a laugh, pulse quickening for a moment. “You know me and my very particular tastes,” she adds jokingly.

And as if by some answer from the universe, Isla’s gaze catches sight of Rafe through the crowd of partygoers. She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth, watching from a distance as he smiles while greeting his friends. The sea breeze dances through his hair and he, too, is by another bonfire that makes him glow in an orange-golden light. And there it is—the fluttering in her heart that comes wherever Rafe is concerned. She has to admit, it’s a new development in her life that she’s not at all upset by.

Taking the joint from Kie, Isla takes another long hit that she knows won’t do much, but it’s enough to keep her from launching off the log she sits on and go kiss her boyfriend. Her very hot, very secret boyfriend.

Isla’s neck tenses, physically stopping herself, and only reaching down to grab her cup of beer and taking a swig. She needs a distraction. She had been eager for Rafe to get here, but for what? They can’t be together, can’t dance, without her friends looking at her like she’s crazy. 

If only it were easier.

But it’s not, so Isla looks at her sister and asks, “Wanna grab the others and dance?”

A lazy grin spreads across Kie’s face as she nods. “Hell yeah.”

Minutes later, they have found Sarah and Cleo, joining the groups of people in a mutually decided area that’s designated as the dancing area. Isla’s free hand is locked with Sarah’s, the two of them dancing to the beat of a Rihanna remix with Kie and Cleo, drinks in their other hands. The music makes a lovely cacophony with the rush of waves against the shore, people’s chatter joining in but slightly muted.

Isla’s not sure where the guys are—she wouldn’t be surprised if John B and JJ were caught up in a keg stand somewhere with Pope supervising. But as she twirls Sarah around, laughing, her gaze catches something through the crowd of people. Absently moving to the music, Isla brings her cup up to her mouth, eyebrows furrowing slightly over the rim of the cup as she sips while watching some girl get a little too close to Rafe.

An obvious Kook, by the looks of it. Rafe stands with his usual group of friends, and Isla recognizes the girl as Danielle Greggs, a girl who is closer to Rafe’s age. . . With very little space between the two of them. Isla narrows her eyes, somehow still absently moving to the music with her friends, and watches as Danielle laughs at something Rafe says, clearly swaying closer to him, and suddenly Isla’s chest burns. But then—

She watches as Rafe’s gaze flickers down to Danielle and, without drawing too much attention, takes a step away from her to add some space as he takes a sip of his drink. Isla takes a deep breath, warm satisfaction coursing through her when Danielle notices Rafe’s step back and a quick look of embarrassment flashes across her face as she looks away and brightens her smile while engaging in the group’s conversation. 

Isla finds herself smirking, relieved at Rafe’s obvious display of loyalty, even if her own jealousy still brims. This—this part of a secret relationship is what severely sucks. Watching other people flirt with her boyfriend because they think he’s single, and not being able to step in and show her own possessive side. Isla tries to relax her tensed muscles, subtly rolling her neck as she forces her gaze away from Rafe. Even the sea breeze isn’t enough to cool down her heated skin that erupted at the sight of another girl flirting with her guy.

She’s yanked out of her thoughts when Sarah bumps into her with a giggle, and Isla’s eyes widen slightly in amusement as she keeps her friend upright. “I need another drink,” Sarah grins, looking at Isla and squeezing their joined hands. “Come with?” 

Isla laughs, nodding. “Let’s go, babe.”

She lets go of Sarah’s hand only to throw her arm around Sarah’s shoulders, Sarah’s own arm winding around Isla’s waist as they weave around people to where the kegs are kept. Isla’s face scrunches when they pass by someone throwing up a few feet away, a friend holding the girl’s hair back, but they’ve all been there. 

“Let it out, Stacy! Puke and rally!” Isla calls out to the vomiting girl, earning a chuckle from Emma, the girl who’s holding Stacy’s hair back as Stacy waves feebly before going back to puking. 

“Oh-ho, that’s gonna be me by the end of the night,” Sarah laughs, her brown eyes glazed over and cheeks flushed. Isla has a feeling she resembles more or less the same as Sarah.

“Not if you pace yourself,” Isla tells her through a laugh of her own. “Drink some wa—”

“Sarah, hey.”

Simultaneously, both Isla and Sarah roll their eyes in exasperation, though Isla doesn’t stifle her groan before muttering, “Here we fucking go again.”

They don’t stop, but are forced to when Topper appears in front of them. Isla presses her lips together when she feels Sarah’s arm squeeze around her waist. The wind tousles Topper’s blonde hair as he gives Sarah that half smile that Isla thinks he probably considers charming, but to her it’s just an indicator that he’s about to make a fool out of himself again in front of Sarah.

“Hi, Topper,” Sarah returns, considerably less enthused, as she brushes her hair behind her ear with the hand still holding the empty cup.

Isla’s lips twist to the side, her patience immediately wearing thin. How does Topper not notice how Sarah would rather eat sand than have a conversation with him? Is he truly that oblivious—or does he just not care? Never mind the fact that she’s been with John B for a year now. It’s about time Topper lets the candle he’s still holding for Sarah blow out.

“How’re you doing?” Topper asks her, not even glancing towards Isla, as if she’s not there. Which is fine by her because she could give a shit about being acknowledged by Topper Thornton, but his obsession with Sarah doesn’t just piss off Sarah and John B—it annoys their friends, too. Come to think of it, how is Rafe even friends with him?

“Good, good,” Sarah answers, always polite, offering a close-mouthed smile that doesn’t at all meet her eyes. Isla wonders if Topper notices or cares. It’s just embarrassing at this point. “Isla and I were just getting another drink.”

“Oh, cool, I’ll walk with—”

“Jesus Christ, Topper,” Isla cuts in, groaning as she throws her head back before straightening to glare at him. This time, he finally looks at her, that idiotic expression on his face. Isla gives him a look of her own, as though he just drooled on himself. “She’s not fucking interested—hasn’t been since she dumped you. When the hell are you gonna move on?”

From her peripheral vision, she sees Sarah pressing her lips together, no doubt trying to stifle a laugh. Meanwhile, Topper’s expression quickly transforms into an annoyed glare. “I don’t think this conversation involved you, Isla,” he says evenly with a lift of his chin.

Isla scoffs, her mouth curving up in a sardonic smile. “Thank God for that, because I don’t think Sarah wants to be involved in that conversation, either,” she counters. A glance at her friend tells Isla that Sarah is definitely trying to smother a smile. With a shake of her head, Isla says to Topper, “Dude, just let it go. She’s not into you. She’s moved onto bigger and better things—”

“What’s happening here?” John B suddenly appears out of nowhere on Sarah’s other side. But his gaze, hardened, is fixed on Topper, who immediately straightens, like he’s trying to puff out his chest.

Isla glances at Sarah, who suddenly looks like she has sobered up now that John B has made an appearance. Isla can’t blame her for that, because whenever John B and Topper are in the same space, people need to be on their toes because no doubt a fight may break out.

Gaze darting, Isla tries to see if JJ or Pope are nearby—preferably the latter, because while JJ is more liable to join in on the fight, Pope would try to pull John B away. Isla watches as John Be steps in front of them, staring down Topper, whose chin lifts as he says, “Nothing, man. Just chatting.”

“Okay.” John B gives a single dip of his chin. Isla, standing behind him, can’t exactly see his expression, but she knows there’s that special glare on his face that he reserves just for Topper. “Find someone else to chat with. Not my girlfriend.”

Oh, Isla sees the flash of anger in Topper’s eyes when John B utters the g word. No doubt rubbing salt in the wound that Sarah left Topper for John B, but who could blame her? Then again, Isla may be biased since John B is one of her best friends, but whatever. 

But that anger that Topper shows has him switching gears, Isla realizes, when he scoffs and spits, “You know, it’s only a matter of time she leaves you the way she left me.” Isla feels Sarah stiffen, while her own eyebrows slant down in a glare as Topper steps up to John B. The air is immediately tense with the anticipation—or dread—of something about to happen.

Over the sound of the party, Isla hears John B scoff. “When are you gonna let that go, man? It’s embarrassing at this point,” he says, giving voice to Isla’s own thoughts from seconds ago. “Move on—and back the fuck up.”

Those last few words are harshly spoken because Topper had, indeed, stepped up to John B. Around them, Isla can see others taking note of what’s brewing; everyone knows fire is bound to erupt when John B and Topper get into it. “Oh, God,” Sarah mutters next to Isla, her grip around Isla’s waist loosening as she takes a step towards John B, her hand reaching out to gently fist the back of his shirt. “John B—”

“Why’re you getting so defensive?” Topper asks John B, arrogantly tilting his head to the side. At this rate, more and more people are gathering, watching the scene unfold. When Isla glances past Sarah to her right, she sees JJ and Pope shoving their way to the front, Kie and Cleo right behind them. The girls look unsurprised about this confrontation, though wary, and while Pope looks like he’s trying to calculate the fastest way he can pull John B away, JJ looks like he’s ready to jump in and join. 

Topper’s mouth curves up into an almost cruel grin. “Is it ’cause you know it’s true?” Isla’s jaw clenches, and then Topper goes for the killing blow with a scoff. “Once a whore, always a whore, am I right?”

That does it.

Isla has a split second to pull Sarah back from John B, the blonde yelping in surprise as Isla yanks her away from her boyfriend, right when John B lunges forward and cracks his knuckles against Topper’s jaw. Gasps sound from the surrounding crowd, Isla’s eyes widening and holding Sarah’s hand as she tries to go after John B, but Isla doesn’t want her friend to get caught in the crossfire as Topper recovers and goes after John B.

“Shit,” Sarah curses as Isla moves her to the side, watching as John B and Topper crash onto the sand, fists flying viciously. “Topper, get off of him!”

“You son of a fucking bitch.” John B’s words are spoken through gritted teeth, in between punches thrown at Topper. He’s on top of Topper, one hand gripping the front of Topper’s shirt while the other throws another punch. “Keep her name out of your mouth, you fuck.”

“Oi, stop them!” Isla hears Cleo say, glancing over to see her talking to Pope. “They’re gonna kill each other!”

“My money’s on John B,” JJ says from the other side of the crowd from where Isla and Sarah are, looking far too entertained to put a stop to what’s going on. By the sight of his lazy yet excited grin, he’s not too worried about stopping the fight.

Somehow, through the struggle, Topper ends up on top of John B, and Isla’s heart drops to her stomach when she sees with widened eyes that Topper has his hands around John B’s neck, right on top of his bandana. And Topper’s grip is tight, judging by the way John B struggles, his face turning a dangerous shade of red to purple.

“Oh, my God,” Sarah panics, fear stricken.

“Topper, let him go!” Isla yells, muscles tight as she stops herself from launching at the blonde to pull him off. “You’re gonna fucking kill him!”

Her heart is racing, pounding in her ears, but it’s as though those words trigger JJ, because suddenly he’s there, too. He grabs fistfuls of Topper’s shirt and yanks him back, JJ’s teeth obviously gritted as he uses all of his strength to shove Topper off and onto the ground. He falls on his ass with a heavy thud, but isn’t down for long.

“Oh, you want some too, Maybank?” Topper taunts, getting to his feet. 

John B is gasping for breath, Sarah racing to him after she breaks out of Isla’s grip and crashing to her knees next to her boyfriend, fussing over him. Isla’s gaze is wide and darting, going from John B and Sarah to JJ, who shouts at Topper, “Think you’re forgetting this is our side of the island, Top! You can fuck right off back to Figure Eight.”

Isla crouches on the other side of John B, wincing when she sees the bleeding cut on his lip and the discoloration already starting on his jaw. Sarah, meanwhile, goes back and forth from worrying about him and admonishing him for getting into a fight, her panic still evident as John B calms her down while trying to catch his breath at the same time.

“Oh, God,” Isla mutters, catching Sarah and John B’s attention. They follow her gaze ahead, to where now it’s a confrontation between JJ and Toppers. People surrounding them are either egging one or the other on, or recording on their phones. 

Isla bites the inside of her cheek when she sees Rafe and Kelce break through the crowd to get to the front, behind Topper. She watches as Rafe’s narrowed eyes find Sarah, looking as though he’s searching her for any sign of injury, before his gaze locks with Isla’s. She widens her eyes at him, gaze flickering to Topper, a silent plea for Rafe to pull his friend back. 

In the past, Rafe has always been eager to jump into a fight against Isla’s friends; it’s one of the reasons why JJ, John B, and Pope hate him, and it’s as good of a reason as any. But it’s been months since her friends and Rafe physically got into it, since before she and Rafe started seeing each other. And Isla hopes that tonight that streak isn’t broken. It’s not as though she doesn’t have faith in Rafe, because she does. But as much as she loves her friends, Isla is fairly certain that they won’t have an issue picking a fight with him.

She sees Rafe’s jaw clench, his chin subtly dipping once, and a semblance of relief pours through Isla to know that Rafe is on her side on this. But the situation needs to be deescalated fast, because Topper sneers at JJ after hearing his words. “Yeah, your side of the island,” Topper scoffs with a shake of his head, that sardonic smile back on his now bruising face, since John B had gotten some good hits in, too. “But you freaks took our girls, didn’t you? First Isla and Kie—” Isla stiffens when she hears her name, noticeably catching sight of Rafe’s eyes narrowing even further, this time at his own best friend. “—and now Sarah. What, the girls here aren’t good enough for you Pogues? You gotta take what’s ours and screw them, too?”

Isla’s face scrunches up at his gross words, exchanging a look of disgust with Sarah, who looks like she’s wondering, for the hundredth time, how she dated Topper in the first place. 

“Take what’s ours?” Oh, no. Isla freezes, watching wide eyed as Kiara steps away from the crowd and storms up to Topper, shrugging off Pope’s attempt of trying to pull her back as a look of indignation fires up her dark eyes. Even JJ is suddenly not very interested in Topper, looking at Kie and putting an arm out to keep her from getting too close to Topper. “Could you be more arrogant? That is some disgusting patriarchal bullshit, Topper.”

Isla rises to her feet, watching raptly to see if she needs to step in and pull her sister back, despite the truth of Kie’s words.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, here we fucking go,” Topper groans with a roll of his eyes before shooting Kie an irritated look. “This has nothing to do with you, Kie.”

“Um, you mentioned my name, so it kind of does,” Kie snaps back, taking another step forward, JJ right next to her as Isla’s heart thumps. She’s hoping that as shitty as Topper is, he wouldn’t lay a hand on a girl, but tension still tightens Isla’s muscles. Her alarmed gaze flickers to Rafe, who is watching with that same look of concentration furrowing his eyebrows—but he’s also slowly approaching where Topper stands. Kie, however, isn’t done. “Just because you haven’t moved on from being dumped, doesn’t mean you can come here and pick fights just because your pathetic ego is hurt.”

As much as part of Isla wants to cheer at Kie’s words, her heart jumps to her throat when that previous anger flashes across Topper’s face and, to Isla’s horror, he narrows his eyes and takes a step towards her sister. Isla finds herself instantly moving forward, too, JJ growling a low and warning, “Hey,” at Topper and the threatening step he takes towards Kie.

But then before anyone else can do anything, by the time Isla has reached Kie’s other side, Rafe is right behind Topper, his hands gripping Topper’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, man,” Rafe says to Topper, his voice calm yet Isla detects the thread of edge creeping into his tone. Topper stops in place under Rafe’s grip, and Isla inhales sharply yet quietly as Rafe forces Topper to take a step back, his gaze on his friend. But Rafe’s eyes—she’s seen that look in his eyes, previously directed towards her friends. Rafe is pissed. “Forget about it, alright? Let’s get out of here.”

Isla’s narrowed eyes watch Topper’s jaw work, her heart thumping wildly and having practically forgotten about the audience around them. But they’re all silent, watching, as Topper finally raises his hands up and takes a step back, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. “Fine, whatever,” Topper scoffs, shaking his head as he shrugs Rafe’s hands off of him and turns. But not before muttering, “Fucking Pogues, man.”

Isla watches as Rafe watches Topper go and join Kelce, before Rafe glances back at Sarah for a split second, who has helped John B up to his feet. Rafe’s gaze then flickers to Isla and she presses her lips together, offering the slightest bit of a grateful smile. She wishes she could hug him for pulling Topper away, from putting a stop to this before Topper went after JJ and, worse, Kie.

But he gives her the tiniest of smiles before he turns and goes, and Isla feels stuck either way, between him and her friends, with one foot in both worlds and wishing they’d collide sooner rather than later.

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing Homicipher Characters to Your Plushies - Pt. 3 !

The Homicipher Characters come to you in hopes for whatever insanity they plan to drag you into, you instead have a different plan! Showing them your plushies!

Notes: Gender Neutral Reader! This Part includes: Ms. Bride, Ms. Nurse, Ms. Blue-Clad, Hairdresser, & Adami ! Girls Round 🫶

Previous Parts: One & Two

Ms. Bride

So cute !!!!!! Oh my gosh !!!! She loves your plushies so much !!!

She immediately wants to put them in cute little outfits! Please let her do so she'll love you even more than she does now!

You both have so much fun with your plushies, she loves them as equally as you do.

She memorizes all the names and any lore you may have and also their importance to you.

If you so desire she'd love to see up little tea parties or something with them. It'd be a lot of fun! You could put together your own wedding with them as the guests as well!!!

She did not know how much she adored plushies until she met you and she's so happy that she did. Please get her some plushies of her own. She'll got absolutely insane dressing them up and will never let them go.

Ms. Nurse

She loves you and your plushies a lot !!! You're so adorable when you talk about them and she loves when you do !!

As a nurse she completely understands how plushies and other small gifts can help comfort a person. So she knows just how important they are to you and will never judge you for that ever.

If she ever sees you remotely upset she will bring over the plushies she knows that brings you the most comfort and place them on you.

She finds some comfort in the plushies as well, and she would be over the moon if you got matching ones for you and her.

I'm not sure how much she knows how to sew, but if she sees a hole or anything on one she'll wrap it up in bandages to make sure the stuffing doesn't fall out!

It's hurt after all! She's gotta take care of it and help it and you feel better in any way that she is capable of.

Overall, she's a huge lover of plushies, and loves that you love them too! 10000% memorized all their names after that day you told her about them.

Ms. Blue-Clad

She seems like the type to like plushies a lot. Though I think she prefers when they're smaller plushies rather than the bigger ones.

She'll listen to you talk about them but I'm not sure how much she's actually memorizing about them. If anything she's just looking at the different colors and creatures they are.

Any blue plushies you have she immediately adores. Those are her favorites.

Bonus points if you get her one later on.

That being said! She thinks you're adorable when you're talking about them!!!

She wants to smother you in kisses so badly!!! And she probably will.

Honestly so long as you are happy and smiling, I think she is as well.

Hairdresser

... Do any of them need haircuts?

If you say no she'll totally understand. But if you allow her to give one or two a haircut she'll still make sure they look super cute!!

I don't think she had deep thoughts on the plushies, but she will listen to you talk about them. Especially if you let her do your hair while you talk.

Might occasionally bring you one or two she comes across while looking for her scissors if she loses them.

I don't know if she'll memorize all their names but she definitely remembers the ones you talk about the most.

Decorate her little salon with plushies!

She will allow it only because it's you. Plus, she does really like the fact it adds some character.

Adami Adashino

Staring blankly. This girl walked into her partner's house covered in blood said partner just starts rambling on about plushies.

Honestly, she can't deny she's endeared.

10000% the type to get cuteness aggression.

Can and will start squeezing and pinching your cheeks and such. But she can't help it!!! Look at how adorable you are!!

She will learn their names for you but she doesn't always remember them very well.

But like. You still think she's cuter than your plushies right? Right?

If you don't say yes prepare for her to be jealous. Good luck!

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 1. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

Part 2. Part 3. Warnings: Profanities, sexual tension, alcohol and cigarette use.

Author's note: I'm not exactly staying on top of the timeline of rivals, bare this in mind as you read. Of course with any self inserts, it's an AU with a bit of tweaking. No smut involved in this chapter, just fluff until I post more parts. AGE GAP (22!Reader). Thanks for reading.

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

It was your first week at the Corinium. You were a fresh-faced journalist straight out of Washington State University who had accepted an internship at the independent commercial television station in the county of Rutshire, England. Far from home and comfort, you strived to be the best at what you were asked to do. The pay was good, and the idea of being in another continent where anything was possible kept your drive at an all-time high. You were practicing your decorum quietly to yourself at your desk, fiddling with your pen.

"Already going mad, are you?" Your co-worker and new friend Seb asks, grinning as he puts down his homework on your desk.

You laugh awkwardly, crossing your leg over the other as you lean back to look up at the ginger. "If I have to hear Tony Baddingham cuss out another person because Declan O'Hara is too stubborn to take his lead," You quip, closing your own folder of paperwork. "I think I'll start drinking more." You exasperate, recalling the sudden outburst from Tony's office a mere five minutes ago. Seeing Declan O'Hara riled up was never a great sign, but you couldn't help but run your eyes over his sculpted arms when he took off his blazer in frustration.

"I think you need to start drinking more in general, y/n. You're in England now. We all have a problem." Seb comments, half-sitting on your desk. "You should come with us to Bar Sinister. It's owned by Basil, Tony's brother." He says, crossing his arms.

You raise a brow. "I thought we were assigned to get dirt on the next guest on Declan's and have it in by Monday. Wouldn't that cut into our research time?" You query.

Seb laughs. "You Americans are such workaholics." He shakes his head. "Come get a drink with us!" He pleas, hitting your arm lightly. "Those reputations aren't going anywhere. Besides, we're all going, you'll be the odd one out if you don't."

"All of you?" You say, looking across the room at Declan O'Hara. He's speaking to someone on the phone in his office, the blinds open enough to allow you for a peek. God, what a man he was.

"Yes, all of us. I can't speak for Tony or Declan, though." Seb hums, the feeling of disappointment washing over you. "I'd like to see you there, though." He adds, the both of you sharing a lingering gaze before he gets up and walks away.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think your colleague was flirting with you. You didn't mind it, really. Seb was attractive, and only a year younger than you. Unfortunately, you just had a taste something a little more aged. Everyone seemed to want to fuck each other in this office. You barely managed to avoid the claws of some of the older men yourself, not that you were complaining-- besides the fact none of them were Declan O'Hara.

You decide to stand up, grabbing ahold of your folder before boldly heading over to Mr. O'Hara's office. You slowly knock on the ajar door to get his attention before you step in.

"-We'll discuss this later. Goodbye." Declan says into his phone, hanging it up when he notices you. "Y/n, hello. What can I do for you?" He asks, putting his hands behind his back as he leans back in his chair.

Many things. You think to yourself, trying to look away from his stretched out torso before speaking. "I was just wondering if I could help you with anything else before I leave today Mister O'Hara? I just noticed you seem a bit stressed, maybe I could take something off of your plate if possible." You say, smoothing out your skirt.

He chuckles lightly, leaning forward to take a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. "Call me Declan, love. No need for so much professionalism." He sighs, your heart skipping a beat at his words of endearment as he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm 'fraid not. Tony's up my arse, and my wife's trying to throw this ridiculously expensive party for my son's birthday which also happens to be New Year's and..." He notices your glimmer of concern in your eyes, staring into them as if he got distracted. "I uh," He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it." He says, waving it off.

"I'm sorry, that does seem like an awful lot." You say, your cheeks reddening from his stare. "You don't deserve that, you know. The way Mister Baddingham treats you." You mutter, toying with the folder in your arms.

Declan chuckles, pulling out a cigarette and popping it into his mouth. "Try telling him that." He says wryly, lighting up the smoke.

"Well Declan, there's a group of us going to Bar Sinister later, if you'd like to unwind. God knows we both need it." You try to joke, laughing awkwardly as Declan gives you a look. You clear your throat, straighten your spine. "Sorry, just a suggestion." You mumble.

He laughs genuinely this time, inhaling his cigarette again. "You're funny, y/n. I thought it would be intolerable hiring an American journalist-"

"Hey!" You interject, gasping playfully.

"But!" Declan holds a hand up, stopping you from speaking further. "You're quite lovely to have around. I enjoy your presence." He says, smiling at you. "I hope you consider a permanent placement in the future."

Your face lights up, a big smile on your face now. "Thank you Mister- Declan." You correct yourself. He laughs again. "But I would have to become apart of your personal board to get approved for anything like that." You add.

"Well," Declan says, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray. "I hope you don't mind if I consider that possibility y/n. You have a lot of potential, and I admire your drive." He admits, clasping his hands together and putting them on his desk.

"I am very flattered, Declan. Thank you." You say, looking down before meeting his gaze again. "It's been a pleasure working for you." The undertone of your words hint at something beyond, causing Declan to tilt his chin up a bit to analyze you.

There was something about you that had caught his attention since you first set foot in Corinium, and he couldn't seem to shake his mind from it. It was like a guilty pleasure he could never acknowledge out loud.

The phone rings. Declan nods towards it, signaling for the conversation to end. "See you tonight, y/n." He finishes, taking the phone off it's mantle as you feel heat beginning to simmer in your abdomen, nodding before leaving his office and closing the door behind you.

You have a wide grin on your face as you make your way back to your desk, hastily returning to your work in order to keep the evening free.

-

Much to your surprise, it was karaoke night at the bar. There was a good mix of random patrons and recognizable faces taking turns singing out ballads.

You and Seb were sat at the bar, him sipping on a Guinness as you had a vodka soda. Classic American, he commented when you ordered it.

“You gonna go up there?” You ask Seb, gesturing towards Freddie Jones who was pouring his heart out on the mic.

“Mm, possibly. What’d you reckon I sing? I’m tone deaf but maybe if everyone gets drunk enough no one will notice.” He jokes, earning a fit of laughter from you both.

“I love The Cure if that’s any help.” You suggest, finishing your vodka soda.

Seb quickly gestures for the bartender to bring over a bottle of wine. He notices your curious expression, shrugging his shoulders. “Company’s paying for this shite, not me." He explains. "Also, The Cure? I like 'em, but they’re not gonna translate with these guys.” He says, drinking his pint. He pours you a glass of wine as you glance around the space, trying to spot Declan anywhere.

“What about Last Christmas? You know, by Wham? It’s almost Christmas after all.” You say, already pouncing on your glass of wine.

“I do like that one, maybe I’ll do it yeah.” Seb says nonchalantly, finishing his Guinness. “I’ll go right now, actually.” He suddenly gets up, walking through the crowd.

You grab the wine bottle itself and take a swig from it, feeling the alcohol flush out your face. You hated how it made your cheeks red like you were ashamed to be plastered.

You finally see the man you were waiting for enter the place, scanning the room before his eyes landed on yours. You give Declan a timid wave, causing him to walk over as Seb began singing on stage. “You made it!” You exclaim, returning to pouring the wine into your glass so you seemed classy in front of your inappropriate work crush.

“Yes, sorry. Had to stay later at the office to do more flawed research.” He jests, nodding towards the bartender who already knew his regular. Declan referred to finding dirt on his guests as flawed research, mainly so it didn’t seem so inane in conversation.

"You're very dedicated to your work, I'm surprised you have time for any of this." You say, allowing yourself to speak more freely now that you were definitely tipsy.

"My wife would say the same." He sighs, taking a sip of his glass of whiskey.

You take another sip of your glass, trying to conceal your distaste at the mention of his wife. "Is she not very pleased with you, Declan?" You ask, causing your boss's face to harden. "I'm sorry," You quickly add. "That's personal I shouldn't have said that, that's so stupid of me-"

"Y/n." Declan says, putting a hand on your arm. You feel your body burn up at his touch. "It's okay, really. It's actually relieving to know you don't know anything about my martial problems. Everyone does." He says dryly, taking another sip of his whiskey. "She's not too keen on me being obsessed with my job. She compares it to cheating on her, which I find rather hypocritical considering..." He trails off, smiling at you. "Forget it." He raises his glass, clinking yours. "To you, for being an amazing intern." He slams back his glass, putting it down and grabbing ahold of the aged bottle of whiskey to pour himself.

You smile awkwardly, raising your glass before taking another sip of your wine. You piece it together in your head, realizing that his wife must've committed adultery; just like almost every other married person you've worked alongside so far. "Jesus, Declan. I'm sorry." You mumble, hearing Seb's singing end in the distance.

"Please, don't apologize. It wasn't your fault." Declan says, a look of yearning in his eyes.

"If I were her, I'd never do anything of the sort. If I was with someone like you I'd cherish it everyday." You say, finishing your glass of wine.

Declan raises a brow, chuckling heartily. "And someone would be very, very lucky to have you y/n." He replies, the two of you locked in a stare.

You were definitely drunk by now, and wine always gave you an edge to flirt with whomever you found most attractive in the room. You place a hand on his arm, finally knowing what it was like to feel his muscles through the thin material of his button up. "You deserve better, Declan." You say, rubbing your thumb along his bicep. You watch as the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile, placing his hand over yours on his arm.

"How'd you think I did?" Seb asks, returning the bar and interrupting the moment between you and Mr. O'Hara. You pull back, turning yourself to face Seb.

"You did great, Seb." You say, pressing a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to go as red as his hair. "I think I'm gonna give it a shot, show the English what talents an American has." You grin, unable to make eye contact with Declan out of embarrassment for trying to flirt with a married man. However, the commonality of cheating on spouses here still gave you a sliver of hope as you walked towards the stage, a mask of confidence due to alcohol consumption.

"What song are you gonna do?" Seb asks, following in suit.

"You'll see." You say. You walk up to the host, whispering a song in their ear. They nod, giving you a thumbs up as you get on the stage.

Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears starts to play, causing the entire place to riot with excitement. You grin madly, grabbing ahold of the microphone as the lyrics begin to play. You watch as Declan makes his way through the crowd, standing between Freddie and Seb to watch you perform.

"I wanted to be with you alone And talk about the weather But traditions I can trace against the child in your face Won't escape my attention."

You dance along to the music, singing freely like no one was watching.

"You keep your distance via the system of touch And gentle persuasion I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much? Oh, you're wasting my time You're just, just, just wasting time..."

You now make eye contact with Declan O'Hara, singing the chorus. Everyone's dancing around, paying no mind to where your attention was.

"Something happens and I'm head over heels I never find out until I'm head over heels Something happens and I'm head over heels Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart Don't, don't, don't throw it away..."

Declan watches you in admiration, realizing you're singing directly at him. You look away for the rest of the song, only returning your gaze when the chorus comes up again. When the song ends, you give a little curtesy, putting the mic back on the stand as everyone cheers madly.

"That was brilliant, y/n!" Seb exclaims, holding you in an embrace. You laugh, hugging him back. "Thanks, Seb."

"Seb, can you do one with me?" Daysee asks, causing Seb to pull away from you. "Course, what're you thinking?" The two of them walk away, leaving you be to earn compliments from the rest of your colleagues.

"You have a great voice." Declan says, causing you to turn and face him. "Great song, too." He adds.

"Thanks, it was a personal choice." You say, the next song starting up. Dreams by Fleetwood Mac starts playing, Seb and Daysee's choice. "Fuck, I love this song." You exclaim, looking over at the stage as your friends begin to sing along.

"As do I," Declan says. "Care to dance?" He asks, causing your gaze to return to his outstretched hand.

You smile. "I'd love to." You place one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand as he places a hand on the small of your back. Your breathing becomes more shallow as the two of you rock to the music, staring into each other's eyes.

You didn't know if you were simply too drunk to acknowledge the reality of the situation, but you couldn't help but wonder if Declan was starting to like you a little more than just an intern that was great at her job.

The space between the two of you becomes insignificant, your head slowly leaning onto his chest as his hand moves down to your lower back, staying at the top of your skirt. You close your eyes as the two of you rock in sync, hearing his heart beat rather triumphally. Your stomach is full of butterflies, and the heat between your legs is almost unbearable as he rubs small circles on your lower back.

He smelled like Tom Ford cologne and Marlboro Golds with an undertone of whiskey, the scent of him nearly more intoxicating than the alcohol itself. You feel his chest vibrate as he quietly sings along to the song, causing you to pull your head back to look at him. You both start singing along, your faces merely inches away from each other.

"When the rain washes you clean, you'll know You'll know You will know Oh, you'll know.."

The song ends, everyone erupting into applause as you register the proximity of you and Declan, taking a step back as you notice the stares of your colleagues.

"Thanks for the dance." You mumble, looking down at the ground. "I uh, need to find Seb he's my ride." You say abruptly, leaving Declan stunned on the dancefloor as you hurriedly approach your ginger colleague. "Can you drive me home now?" You ask, putting a hand on his arm.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Do you need a ride too Daysee?" He asks, the blonde shaking her head.

"'M alright. I'll see you lads on Monday." She says, grinning as the two of you grab your coats from the bar stools.

"Goodbye, Declan." You say, making eye contact with the brooding man who simply looks at you.

"Goodnight, y/n." He responds, inhaling his cigarette before looking away.

You feel a pang in your chest as you look at Declan for another moment, expecting more. He says nothing else. Seb leads you away from the bar, allowing you to let go of any longing between you and Mr. O'Hara.

Declan knew it was wrong to think of you in any other light outside of work. Even if Maud had cheated on him before, with the tendency to keep going at it, he still couldn't shake the guilt away just yet. He retreated to disregarding you as a means to hopefully make you both forget about the whole ordeal, as if he wasn't thinking about what it would be like to have his hands underneath that tight pencil skirt of yours.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, lighting another cigarette. The holiday season was about to be a real hassle, and he was afraid of asking Santa for what he really wished for this time around.

-

guys... i finally did it... declan o'hara i want you so bad. i think im just gonna write a part two to this maybe three, and leave it at that. if you have any requests pweaseee leave them for meeee this show has me in a CHOKEHOLD.

much love as always, isabel

[bsdecember]

BSDecember is approaching !!

Similar to Inktober, BSDecember takes place in the month of December, all prompts being centered around the Bungou Stray Dogs anime!

Any rules?

Just don't make weird stuff that would get you arrested (please. i do not want to be linked to you in any way if you draw kids weird or something. pls.)

Any form of creativity is accepted! Art, writing, cosplay--Anything you can think of, go for it!

Make sure to tag the official account with your posts, as well as add the #BSDecember tag!

Have a fun time! Can't wait to see what everyone makes! :)

[idolomantises]

I’ve seen people make excuses for the writing by mentioning it’s all just set up for spin offs and sequels but… I don’t want that? Why on earth would I want to wait 3 years for a show to say “oh by the way these characters will get proper conclusions in the spin offs”.

Just tl:dr I’m over this series and don’t plan on watching any of the sequels or spin offs. Maybe if they introduce a hot robot character I’ll check it out.

There’s not even a promise that every single character that has an inconclusive ending (which is all of them btw) will have spin offs and sequel shows. I’m pretty sure they’re likely going to just use a completely different cast since League has a lot of characters.

I’ve seen arguments that the season is bad because it has very few episodes and wasn’t spaced out, and while I do agree the pacing is terrible I also… don’t even think this show could have been salvaged if they gave it a full 4 seasons. Because either way, it was going to end with a lot of characters being badly written, sideline and having arcs unfinished so it can be explored in sequels and spin offs (if that even happen).

One thing I liked about arcane is that it avoided a lot of really bad tropes that I’ve seen modern queer media weirdly struggle with. Arcane avoided the pitfalls written female characters, female characters used to push male relationships and very clearly abusive couples that are dismissed just because they’re gay.

Then season 2 happens and Mel becomes a disposable black woman trope, Sky only existed for male angst, Maddie is literally there for shock value and adds nothing to the narrative, Vi just… turned into that and Caitvi is toxic yuri in a way that’s very unfun and frustrating. These two are seriously so incompatible for each other, but they make out and have sex a lot so I’m sure this destructive relationship with warring idealogies will be fine. Please queer shows for the love of god stop assuming gay characters kissing and fucking makes up for their lack of communication and horrible behavior to each other.

Honestly I’m really disappointed that all these things happened to Sky, Mel and Maddie because watching fans tear apart female characters for 4 years just for existing and getting in the way of ships only for them to be exactly that and for fans to cheer about their suffering pisses me off so bad like girl… what the hell happened did the writers have amnesia. How do you write this show right after season one and fuck up this bad.

Maybe we should stop making videos about how tv shows write female/queer characters well until they’re actually done because this is getting ridiculous.

And yes I want to come back to the issue with how black characters were treated because I do find it pretty gross for Mel and Ekko to be absent for most of the show but then come back to basically save the day so fans don’t complain about how they were obviously sidelined for the sake of other characters. I dont really care for Ekko/Jinx but I did enjoy their time together in the AU.

And another annoyance is that this show did such an incredible job at introducing moral greyness to the show but then got scared to really commit to giving these characters any consequences. And I don’t mean like death or going to jail, but I mean holding grudges. I think Jinx is a very interesting and tragic character but she’s also… a terrorist? She caused the death of their friends and father? Like she’s a grown woman making these decisions. Having characters run around and risk their lives to save her felt a bit frustrating because yeah circumstances lead to this but half of these circumstances are also her fault. I really wish the entire season was about Vi choosing whether or not she was ready to forgive Jinx instead of basically accepting her back because Vander is back.

And VANDER…. Actually I won’t say anything because the more I mention him the more it pisses me off.

I have more thoughts but I gotta draw some comics so I’ll just leave at that. Disappointing season that I think is a lot worse than fans insist it is. It’s not one or two issues, it’s just compounding problems that won’t improve.

Thoughts on Arcane season 2

I didn’t like this season

It’s not bad, but I found it incredibly rushed, cramped and deeply unsatisfying

While season 1 had several protagonists it was also pretty obvious that Vi and Jinx were the emotional core of the entire show so why on earth was their dynamic barely explored here

Vi went from being my favorite character to a character I found deeply frustrating and annoying. What the hell is her personality of getting her sister back and fucking the hot lesbian. She has no consistency whatsoever and it’s something I don’t think the show realizes how batshit the constant flip flopping in. What do you mean you sister tells you she’s going to kill herself and then you start fucking your messy situationship

I don’t really care for Jayvik but I found Jayce’s confession very sweet.

Mel my beautiful queen they’re gonna call you a Mary Sue

What the fuck was with all that Witch shit and Ambessa’s death was incredibly unsatisfying

Victor fans who kept begging the team to not make him a hot buff robot so he can still be a skinny twink pisses me off so bad because now we have an inferior twink robot design. I know fans probably didn’t influence this but I also need to complain about their lack of taste like what do you mean you didn’t want to see a hot buff robot man.

Ekko feels like an incredibly unimportant character and I’m pretty sure fans only like him because of what he can do for Jinx. A part of me wished he actually did hold a grudge just to see how fans reacted.

Season 1 was all about setting up emotional complexities and how nobody was truly evil and the show made it seem like there was no way for anyone to fully recovery from this but everyone is holding hands and singing kumbaya’s so alright nevermind then

This show was honestly a little too in love with Jinx. I did not enjoy her writing in acts 1 and 2.

The jokes were really bad this season

The songs oh my god the SONGS. I didn’t mind them in season 1 but in season 2 it started to remind me of love is blind and anyone who has watched that show would know what a massive insult that is.

Caitvi lesbian sex scene and I couldn’t even enjoy it because the writing was pissing me off

Caitlyn should’ve continued her little fascist arc.

Mel’s arc this season felt like weird fanfiction.

A bunch of random side characters die off unceremoniously after the show gave them so much unnecessary screen time

I hated Isha sorry. I’ve never seen a character more clearly made to die.

Jinx death means nothing to me because I know she isn’t dead so why even do all that lol

I will never call this show sexist but it has done a massive disservice to its female characters.

[neege]

Had kind of a long, shitty day so I'm writing up cute Remus/Sirius hcs because it'll cheer me up!

Please add to this, doesn't even have to be about r/s, just any cute hcs about any characters/ships ❤️

One of the most common ways r shows affection is by rubbing his nose against s

S will often have r lay on his stomach and will give him a full body massage when he's having a bad day

I think s would run hot at night, and r would get overstimulated by skin to skin touch at times, so when sharing a bed they don't cuddle often, but they do link pinkies or hold hands or lock their ankles together, snuggling is for the morning

S wouldn't really do anything to his hair when it's long, but I think r would French braid his hair over and over as a way to help him relax (he loves having his hair played with)

Love notes!! I think r & s would write each other love notes that they'd leave for the other to find <3

Rs notes are always very sweet and show appreciation/praise to s in some way: "You're so important to me, I don't know who I would be without you. I love you" "thank you for being the best partner anyone could ask for, you never cease to amaze me"

Ss notes are surprisingly very romantic, he knows that it makes R swoon even if it is a little cheesy: "You're so beautiful. I want to swim in the depths of your eyes until I drown." (Idk I'm not a poet pls don't judge)

[the-one-and-only-taffie]

Back with more White Diamond x Sentinel Prime crackship nonsense baby!!!

Ever since I first thought about these goobers, I haven't known a single day of peace (mostly cause the ideas are just racking around in my brain)

So here's a list of headcanons I came up with for Prime Diamond! If you have any questions regarding this ship, my ask box is open. Double if you have any thoughts or anything to add, go on ahead! I hope y'all enjoy!

I may make a part 2 when I come up with more lol

For this relationship to even be possible (as possible as a crackship between two characters from completely different franchises can be), it will have to take place Post-Steven Universe Finale/Future when White Diamond is in her therapy, self-help guru era. And when Sentinel Prime is... alive.

Also, I have been trying to do research regarding this but since the results are so inconsistent, I'm gonna assume White Diamond is around 80 to 90 ft tall and Sentinel is around 60 (based on how he's double Orion Pax's height and apparently TF One Orion is around 33 ft tall). If you know their actual canonical heights or anything close to that, please lemme know!

As mentioned in a reblog, White Diamond would take an interest in Sentinel Prime as a sort of little DIY project. Though he tries to hide it, White with her supernatural intuitiveness can tell there's more to him than meets the eye (he's an asshole). Having been inspired by Steven to see the worth and beauty in imperfections, she wants to give someone like Sentinel a chance like Steven did for her. Though she is making genuine strides to improve upon her previous controlling and obsessive behavior regarding perfection, this aspect of her will resurface in her attempts "fix" Sentinel while in a relationship with him. She adores and finds much interest in his "positive imperfections," but helping him improve on his more negative ones wouldn't hurt, right?

Other reasons she developed an attraction to him is for the same reason all the Sentinel fangirls did: he's just so... pathetic. When he tries to impress her with stories of battles he's never fought in and gives her a tour of his treasure room full of artifacts he didn't discover, she can tell he's trying way too hard to impress her. She finds this cute and charming rather than douchey and desperate.

Sentinel Prime pursued her because, as stated in a previous reblog, "his diva ass was always going to try and seek out a gem fit for a king." He laid his eyes on an 80-90 ft giant alien rock woman and thought,"I need her." As any sane person would. She was supposed to be nothing more than another symbol of wealth for him to show off to the other elites and officials of Iacon City to further cement the royal image he works so hard to maintain. He definitely underestimated how overwhelming White Diamond can be, and I am not just referring to her height.

Sentinel would rather have his spark be extinguished than admit to this, but his stabilizing servos get wobbly at the idea of his alien girlfriend being so much taller than he is. His pride would never admit to this, nor would it accept someone taller than him accompanying him. He believes that as a "Prime," he is supposed to be much taller, bigger, and more imposing than those around him.

Whenever they make a public appearance, Sentinel insists that White shrink herself to a height more tolerable for his fragile ego. He bullshits an excuse about their buildings not being designed for a being as tall as she is. White obliges, but given how Iacon was built when the previous actual Primes were all gigantic and alive, she quickly figures his lie and confronts him about it. He'd just lie again and say he didn't want the other Cybertronians to be intimidated... by her beauty. Clearly, it's not because of some Napolean complex or something. Still, White is in her patience era, so she takes the compliment for what it is.

The "guy who doesn't like speeches" vs. "professional yapper" isn't a joke. Sentinel can't stand how much White Diamond loves to yap. She's the kind of person to have thoughts and opinions about anything and everything. Given that she doesn't breathe, she doesn't even need to catch her breath in the middle of speaking, so she can go on and on and on, much to Sentinel's annoyance.

He tries to get her to quiet down at times, but as White tends to do, she either doesn't hear him or straight up ignores him. Her monologuing, along with her height and just how shiny she is, is very overwhelming for Sentinel at times. The only good thing he finds about this aspect of his sweetspark is when she dotes on him and showers him with compliments and attention. As if an attention hungry fame whore needed any more of it.

Sentinel even allows White to indulge in her psychoanalysis, playing up the whole "tragic hero whose brothers and sisters perished in battle and now has to face the pain and weight of protecting his people alone" angle that she eats up. White does sometimes hit dangerously close to home, so Sentinel shuts her down before she could dig straight to bedrock and uncover the more unfavorable parts of himself he wants to stay hidden.

Speaking of staying hidden, the way White carries herself in public makes Sentinel was to keep her locked away in a jewelry box. White is excellent when it comes to using her words to inflict psychic damage or to build someone up. When it comes to social situations where charisma, relatability, and poise are needed, this is when White is at her most alien. She is not the most socially adjusted given that prior to the finale, she spent thousands of years hidden away in a world of her own delusions. She doesn't have much of a filter, something she has been working on to avoid upsetting others.

She has the habit of pointing out any interesting thing that catches her eye, especially about people, whether or not it's positive or negative. This has led to her unsettling the bots at best or offending them at worst. Sentinel then has to come in and use his charisma to difuse the situation and paint her behavior in a more positive light. Only for White to turn around and ask everyone if they ever noticed how Sentinel's wings move in accordance to his mood and how adorable it is. Everyone laughs. Sentinel is thoroughly pissed.

Sentinel definitely has more relationship experience than White Diamond. All of her knowledge comes from what she's heard from the gems that come to her for advice or from that human show the little green Crystal Gem recommended (she can't remember her name). In her attempts to emulate the behavior she's heard of and observed, she ends up coming off as cringe or detached from reality. At certain points of the relationship, she even imposes certain "deadlines" on courtship behaviors she expects from Sentinel. All his previous relationships were private, casual flings. He only made this one public because bagging a bad bitch like White Diamond is an accomplishment he felt he had to show off.

This may come to bite him in the aft when her radiance catches the attention of other bots. On these occasions, he acts possessive and showers her with attention, gifts, and affection. He tells himself and Airachnid it's because he doesn't want her to outshine him in the eyes of the public. In reality, he gets jealous and doesn't want to lose her interest and, most importantly, her attention. As overwhelming and embarrassing as she can be, a twisted part of him really craves her attention.

In private, Sentinel can flip flop greatly in how he treats White. On some days he leans on her for support and wants her to pet his wings while he vents about all the dumb, annoying bots he has to fraternize with and all the boring meetings he has to attend. White occasionally interrupts him with advice or her own views on the situation, which frustrates Sentinel. On other days, he's completely detached, not even bothering to give her the time of day. He is at his most consistently sweet and romantic when they're both in the public eye, performing grand gestures of love. This intensifies when they're on camera.

They present themselves as THE Iacon couple, but Sentinel and White argue a lot about pretty much anything. More often than not, White is trying to advise him on how to improve himself and his city, and Sentinel kindly tells her to shut up and mind her own business.

They are both very prideful people who can't accept when they are wrong. White is more willing than Sentinel to admit to it and compromise. If she believes she is 100% in the right, she won't go down without a verbal fight. She has yet to figure out how to properly counter Sentinel's "NUH UH!" though. She believes this is normal and healthy as she hears time and time again how arguments are a sign of a functional relationship. White knows how in the past she never allowed anyone to express their grievances or criticize her. If they did, she'd twist their words to further force her own viewpoint or take control over their mind and body. Seeing Sentinel passionately argue back while White practices her listening skills and only sometimes speaks over him gives her hope that she isn't regressing back to her previous toxicity. No one has told her that disagreements are healthy and normal, but frequent fights and arguments are not. And the kind of hellish circles these two go in just ain't it

[meli-writes]

Bitch-Princess of Toronto

“Cute, right?” Tamsin grins. She gestures to the small, pale mess curled up on the sidewalk couch with her — into her — the 6-foot, mullet-topped werewolf draping her own leather jacket over it to keep it warm. “Got the Bitch-Princess of Toronto purring in my lap.”

“I don’t purr,” the mess purrs back, echoing off the motor-repair shop’s walls, with an idle flash of fang catching Ezra’s eye.

“You want me to use the word ‘snore?’” Tamsin asks, irritatingly casual about it all.

Because Ezra, well they have been watching those fangs every day this week, waiting to see if the little caught vampire is gonna try anything; keeping her leashed in silver chains, some regular mechanic’s ones too, to one of the steel columns while the pack-elder fucks off to debate what to do with her. Ezra’s been looking into things themself — the usual rumours of vampires prodding into their territory, making sure it’s no-one who belongs to the Prince — because this one hasn’t been much in the way of forthcoming.

And in the two days they've left Tamsin in charge, she's got the bitch on a dog leash.

Ezra exhales, pulling at their septum ring and breathing the stress back in. “That’s the part you take issue with.” Not looking at Tamsin — but the vampire. The silent perfection with which she seems to not even notice Ezra is a screeching brake rotor in their head.

“Still only responds to what she wants to,” Tamsin uselessly informs them, flat-toned with a barely hidden smile that also says, but i’m what she wants.

And what does her owner want? The Prince, Ezra doesn’t say aloud.

“Why is she in your lap?” they manage to ask.

“I don’t know,” Tamsin says. “We were chattin’ and I felt bad about leaving her chained to the post.” She rolls her shoulders back, stretching, and pulls a massive, thrice-bitten arm up to ruffle at the vampire’s ruby-red hair. “She’s so warm after feeding.”

“You did what!?” Ezra shouts, their hands convulsing in an electric gesture of sheer-fucking-disbelief before managing to clamp them into fists on their temples. “Tam! If Lucerne comes back from the Eldermoot and sees this-leashed-bitch and that-shit-on-your-arm she’ll fucking kill us both!”

“I don’t know,” Tamsin offers in a smug-salted, doubtful smile, “seemed a whole lot less messy than feeding out of the bowl — and she’s been so good. Two taps when she needs me to pull her off, ‘cos she struggles to herself. Very polite.”

Just to annoy Ezra even worse, she gestures it out — Tap! Tap! — on her arm.

“You think she's imprinted on me?”

“So she’s a stray cat now?” Ezra says, knowing in an instant that Tam is going to—

“Ohh, she’s such a good kitten. Ain’t that right, Red?”

Not much more escapes the pile of leather and frizzy, red hair than low, pleased grumble and the soft scrape of blood-full cheeks rubbing into Tamsin’s half-dressed chest.

Ezra’s hands run from temple-sides down their cheeks, like a squished bagpipe dragging out the last few thimblefuls of air, “I guess. If it helps.”

They’re not able to think of what else could even keep ‘Red’ on her leash, nothing short of the brute-strength that seems futile on a now barely-restrained, blood-full vampire. Marde. She’s one of the Prince’s fledglings too.

But if it is, at this point, all about what ‘Red’ is choosing to do, maybe Ezra can—

“Can I— pet her?”

Tamsin’s eyes lock to her, face still for a few contemplate moments, and then— well, she kind of nod-shrugs.

It’s when Ezra has reached a wrench’s length away that ‘Red’ finally does ‘notice’ them, stirring from her wretched repose to swipe at them; Ezra has to stumble back, falling ass-backward onto the stacked-tire coffee table.

Nothing got scratched, but Ezra can definitely feel their ego bleeding; looking at Tamsin who should be pinning the bitch to the floor, snarling, fur sprouting from claw-to-delt, and is instead pissing herself laughing.

“Don’t think she’s imprinted on you,” she adds, and Ezra is sure the vicious fang-bitch is smiling herself. Probably didn’t scratch me ‘cos she didn’t need to — with Tam playing pet-mom to her. “Gotta let her feed on your first.”

“Oh-ho-ho! Ha! Ha-ha! No chance,” Ezra mutters, twisting their swiped-at wrist in the other hand to soothe the emotional agony of it. “Tam — what if she tries draining you and uses that strength to escape?” 

It’s a perfectly sensible question; one that should point out what a bad idea this is; one that not even Himbo Tamsin should be able to—

“Don’t want to,” interrupts ‘Red,’ boredom effusing into Tamsin’s tits.

“What?” Ezra asks.

…

“Ugh!” they squeal, throwing their arms up in the air. “Tamsin, can you ask her—”

Tamsin merely coos at the fucking beast, rubs one of its dumb cheeks and, “you like it when I keep you, don’t you kitty?”

“Mhmm,” she replies, like once-again Tamsin is the only other person in the room. Ridicule! 

But it crawls into them then, why doesn’t she want to.

“Also,” the vampire adds, as if listening to Ezra’s thoughts more than their words, “the Prince’s current truce is a lie. Doubtless I’m no longer his favourite too, if he’s not bothered to take me back from you guys.”

There’s a roll of Ezra’s eyes that hurts more than an unplanned, full-moon turning, “Oh my god! Then we’ve been hiding a worthless hostage this entire time.”

“I don’t know,” ‘Red’ tells them. “Seemed obvious to me.”

“And you never told us!” Ezra moans, glancing up to Tamsin who’s pathetically infatuated with the attention-whore clamped around her like a bench vice. “So what, nowhere to run now? We would’ve let you off leash at least. The silver one, not this shit.”

“Seems kinda hot to be honest,” ‘Red’ says, and Tamsin hums in satisfied, deferential agreement.

When Ezra stares her down she shrugs, “What? I was comfortable,” and seems to want to send a message back, “Scared a little, okay. And I’m patient. Wanted to see what happened, because again, if he wanted me, a truce — fake-or-not — wouldn’t stop him; and he knows I’m here, for sure.”

There’s a wince now, but she doesn’t stop, “I don’t feel him but— ugh, I’m sure he feels me. Even this far from his ivory tower. Wasn’t really my choice to be there y’know, or any of his ‘princesses.’”

Ezra wishes they were the one borrowing Tam’s jacket, just to hide in it.

Silver chains and a bowl. Next to a mattress you needed Tamsin to find a blanket for. What an asshole, a wonder she doesn’t listen.

Practical feels the best way forward, “So what now? You gonna tell us about some secret attack or plan or whatever it is?”

After a moment they realise, and look to— “Tamsin?”

Tamsin’s got a hand under the girl’s borrowed shirt; fingers nipping at the trim fat, forehead rocking into the top of her head. “You know this sounds awfully dangerous, kitten,” she chimes. “You don’t want the Prince to hurt me, do you? There’d be way less cuddles then.”

‘Red’ takes a moment to weigh the bargain.“Mmm, sure. But I want dinner first.”

---

(Masterpost)

[whumpbby]

Very unfortunately, Huanguahg Jun possesses acute literary flair. Nothing he writes can be taken as anything else than heartfelt and honest, and emotionally charged.

WWX: I don't want to accuse you, Lan Zhan, but I've read porn that made me blush less than this?

LWJ: Wei Ying...

WWX: I'm not kidding, you should have a word with Huaisang. I know it's a bit tens between him and your brother, but he will be able to do justice to these descriptions and paint you a perfect...

LWJ: Wei Ying!

WWX: ... illustrations! Jiang Cheng is very pretty, so you don't want some subpar artist...

LWJ: Jiang Wanyin isn't...

WWX: Not what the entry from three years ago says! "The regretful beauty of Jiang Wnayin's face is such that the Sect Leader Huang couldn't focus on the words spewed by his shapely mouth, and the trade agreement favouring Yunmeng Jiang over Gusu Lan was accepted." You even drew a flower here!

LWJ: It's a dagger!

WWX: *turns the page around* Wow, Lan Zhan, for all the pretty writing you really cannot draw. Even more reason to employ an artist!

LWJ: Wei Ying, please, give the diary notebllok back. It was never meant to be seen.

WWX: Huh, you could sell it, you know? Just change the names a bit and add some pictures, and I bet that you could make a lot of money with this:)

And this, half a year later, the "Regret of Yunmeng" became a flash hit in every bookstore from Lanling to Gusu.

Lan Zhan instantly regretted publishing it - until he noticed how it annoyed Jiang Wanyin. That made him double down - and Regret of Yunmeng series turned filthy.

Wei Wuxian was happy he was bringing his two favourite people together:D I'm no time they will confess their love!

zhancheng to me is like this:

imagine a scenario in which jiang cheng actually does know quite a lot about lan wangji's tastes: his favorite and least favorite tea flavors, snacks, food, books, music, authors and artists, and so on.....except jiang cheng specifically sought out this information during the 13 year timeskip to make lan wangji miserable.

maybe lan wangji is just publicly A Bitch to him one too many times and jiang cheng finally decides he's had enough. so, for the next few months, jiang cheng spends an inordinate amount of time gradually sussing out everything he can learn about lan wangji's tastes. what kind of tea does he like? what kind of tea does he despise? which authors does he always read? what temperature does he prefer his room to be? what new trends in music does he find completely unbearable? when he passes through a region whose cuisine he hates, which restaurants does he find slightly less intolerable?

and then, the next time there's a discussion conference at lotus pier, jiang cheng weaponizes this knowledge. actually, the next time there's a public event anywhere wherein both jiang cheng and lan wangji are in attendance, jiang cheng weaponizes the fuck out of this knowledge. he makes sure that the tea lan wangji hates the most is served to everyone. he has his disciples buy all the local snacks he knows lan wangji has a preference for, just so lan wangji can't have any. he makes sure lan wangji's room and bed are heated to the exact temperature lan wangji finds just too hot to be comfortable. whenever lan wangji's favorite obscure author releases a new work that gusu lan doesn't think is cultivation-related enough to include in their library, jiang cheng has a bunch of his disciples swoop in and buy as many copies as possible, just so that it takes lan wangji a bit longer to get his hands on a volume. jiang cheng "leaks" to a few minor sect leaders the idea that lan wangji actually does like spicy food, and said minor sect leaders actually believe that information for a full year of hosted visits and public events.

this continues for all 13 years of the timeskip. of course, jiang cheng isn't outstandingly successful in actually making lan wangji miserable, because there are limits to what jiang cheng can actually achieve and what he's actually willing to spend enough time on; realistically, all he's accomplishing is causing lan wangji some minor irritations once in a while. but it's enough for jiang cheng to know that, every time lan wangji has to pass through yunmeng, he's absolutely miserable because jiang cheng has persuaded/paid every musician in the area to play the one song lan wangji hates the most.

jin guangyao, of course, figures out what's going on immediately. but even loyalty to lan xichen isn't going to make him sacrifice potentially useful dirt by putting a stop to jiang cheng's asshole behavior himself, so instead he just decides to watch and wait. he also just finds it really funny. meanwhile, lan wangji, for all 13 of these years, never figures out what's going on. he never figures out why he can't ever find the lanling-style osmanthus cakes he hates slightly less than the rest of lanling cuisine whenever he passes through the area and runs into disciples from yunmeng jiang. when his favorite obscure author releases a new book, he gets in line at the indie bookstore in qinghe he went out of his way to visit, and just doesn't question why everyone in front of him is wearing purple.

postcanon, though....now lan wangji has one hell of a source of insider information (wei wuxian), so the turns are about to get fucking tabled.

[taebaelee]

Posted this on a small subreddit, but wanted to post here as well. For the new game, while part of me enjoyed playing some of it, I do really think it's such a disservice to be able to really call it a Dragon Age game when the writers stripped away any nuances by trying to make everything black or white; everything feels very basic and borderline cartoonish at points.

Anything morally gray is non-existent and you have no real influence in the game. No matter what you do, you are forced as the player to play a super friendly (or chaotic-good) at best protagonist with no opinions on the world of Thedas. This is what makes this not feel like a Dragon Age game to me.

This isn't super long, but there are spoilers under the cut as to why I feel this way. I do speak very critically about the new game, so please do not read if you think it may offend you as that is not my intention; this is more of a therapeutic rant for me and fellow DA lovers who feel disappointed about the writing.

While people can argue on how the previous games handle the situations involving anti/pro mages, templars, elves, the chantry, etc-- you can't even talk/argue about literally ANYTHING in the world with anyone as these ideas simply do not exist in the game OR are introduced but with a narrative already framed around it by the writers ideals.

- Factions/groups you work with are too virtuous. We could have had such deep and complex dynamics with the factions and how their backgrounds change your relationship with the characters in the world, or how the party members interacted with each other. Instead, none of it really matters as the game sanitizes the world around the groups to make the party members and factions palatable to the masses. A literal criminal organization, the Threads, is shown in a more positive light because while they commit other crimes, they don't deal in slavery? The Lords of Fortune (who are mainly mercenaries) would return cultural artifacts to the ethnic group they belong to-- they loot and steal, but are morally conscious enough to not steal from other cultures? The Antivan Crows who canonly bought and enslaved children, who made said children prove themselves through gruesome tests that sometimes included killing their own peers, are now played out like they're justice fighters. The the closet the game gets to showing any of the truth is small party banter you may miss with Lucanis saying his training was like torture, but it is to never be discussed again.

- The characters all get along way too well. Rook can't ask a character's opinion on the other factions, races, classes, religions, etc-- let alone reply back with their own thoughts that may go against the members views as we don’t really even get to see their opinions on them. Whenever the disapproval bubble pops up, which it rarely does, it does not change anything and it is not brought up again. There seems to be no consequences with your party members based on your choices, which makes the characters likeness towards you feel unearned as they seem to have no agency of their own. In DAI, if Cassandra has low approval then you can get a scene where you call her pathetic as she's stumbling over drunk and yells at you for ‘coddling mages’ or in high approval she can have a scene where she says something along the line 'while she doesn’t agree with everything you have done, she admires you.’ or in DAO Zevran can either betray you and go back with Taliesen/Crows or he can tell Taliesen he is not going back. Even something as small as the characters greetings change based on approval status when you visit them at skyhold. There are tons of examples I could give from previous games, but not a single cut scene seems to change with your companions outside of the final decision you make for them at the end of their companion quests. And to add on top of this, the party members all get along perfectly. If they disagree it is quickly resolved and moved on. Where are my Fenris and Anders fights or Vivienne and Solas sassy quips towards one another?

- No religious themes in the new game feels so out of place as this game literally changes the fundamentals of religious beliefs in the world of Thedas and could cause for a complete uproar with those that believe in the Maker and Chantry. The first game opens with an excerpt from the Chant of Light explaining the origins of the Blight and the Chantrys version of the truth and the whole mage/templar battle which is such a major theme (especially in DA2) in this series is due to the Chantry and this new info shows that the Chantry is wrong (or partially) and this can actually be completely missed behind a side-quest? Also, are we supposed to believe that all the Dalish just know Solas is better than Elgar'nan now? Strife say something along the lines that while Solas may be a bastard he is better than the other Evunaris" WHEN WAS THIS ESTABLISHED? Solas directly talks about how when he tried to tell the Dalish his identity they either didn't believe him or attacked him for being the God of Lies and Trickery. Yes, it has been a few years, and more may know the truth now... but how many as according to the old games the Dalish WORSHIPPED the ground Elgar'nan walked. If so many like Solas now from knowing the truth suddenly, where are all the followers for the Dreadwolf? Not only do we not have any missions regarding the agents of Fen'harel, we don't run into any at all.

- This sounds bad out of context, but where is the slavery/racism? I know a lot of people wanted them to tone some of it down, but for it to be completely removed just does no feel right when Tevinter is canonly known to be the worst place for slavery when it is openly practiced and legal... Also, playing as an elf feels very out of place during an undercover quest with the Venatori, but they already had them working for Elgar'nan which doesn't really add up either; so I guess they are just fine with Evles now after thousands of years...

- None of the previous games matter. While fundamentally, each game has their own story, I liked seeing the cameos of characters reflect past choices. One, of many examples, would be that we got to see Alistair either become a drunk in DA2 and forgotten by the narrative; or have him become a King or Grey Warden in DAI where you can even ask him about the Hero of Ferelden and his answers are different depending on how you played the game! Now we have some characters return but as a blank slate as the writers did not want to invalidate previous choices, but essentially let the characters' cameos fall flat because of this. What is the point of a character returning if they don’t reflect the character I know and helped them become what they are today through my choices?

I know I have a lot of negatives even when I said I liked part of the game, but it is a huge disappointment as the reasons above are what made me LOVE the series with it being so enriched with its environment and now it feels like a hollow shell of itself.