#and like sure i hate them in my house too

[cameronsprincess]

i understand that reqs r closed and u completely don’t have to fulfill this but i thought you’d do a BANGER job at this prompt: u and rafe r married but are getting divorced and u threw a divorce party… only to end the night going home with him… a little bit of angst with some smut?? idk make it ur own 💗

zyaaaa<3 i love you for this, and thank you for trusting ME with your request!!!

CW: 18+ only! slight angst, more fluff than i intended, divorce, smut, male receiving oral, piv sex.

note: yeah yeah reader went out w her friends but left w rafe and none of them tried to stop her. in my head none of them noticed their interaction/her leaving with him. let’s pretend they’re blowing up her phone while she’s gettin’ the best dick down of her lifeee. also, i suck at endings, its my biggest flaw so yeah sorry if the ending is bad.

“here’s to finally being free of the most toxic marriage to the most toxic man!” you say joyfully, clinking your glass with three of your closest friends.

your friends all giggle, bringing the champagne flutes to their lips and taking small sips. you glance around your house, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders as you take in how freeing it feels to finally have your divorce finalized. you’d been married for three years, and while it was good at first, somewhere during the marriage your— now ex— husband had become cold and indifferent toward you. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, nor could you give a reason why, but all you knew was enough was enough. you were too young and too beautiful to spend the rest of your life in a loveless marriage to a man who treated you like shit.

your friends voice rips you from your thoughts. “earth to y/n.. you okay babe?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, giving your friend a big smile before nodding your head. “yeah i’m fine,” pausing, you down the rest of your champagne, setting the glass onto your coffee table and rising from your spot on the couch. “let’s go out tonight.”

your friends all share slightly concerned looks with one another before their attention lands on you. nicole clears her throat, awkwardly shifting before she finally speaks, “i mean.. yeah sure, but are you sure you wanna put yourself out there like that right now?”

you roll your eyes, sighing. “yes i’m sure. i just spent the last year of my life going through a messy divorce process, so i’d like to go out with my girls, have some drinks, dance a little, and maybe, just maybe, find some hot guy to bring home. i’m not going out to find my next husband, jesus.”

and that’s exactly what you did, but little did you know… the man you’d go home with was your ex husband.

—

“another shot of patrón please? thank you!” you shout to the bartender, giving him a flirty half-drunken smile.

the bartender nods, moving to pour your drink before sliding it across the bar to you. you smile, grabbing the glass and downing it before setting it back on the bars top.

“a pretty woman like you shouldn’t be buying her own drinks.” a low, raspy voice says from behind you.

you bite at your bottom lip, smiling to yourself before turning to face the mystery man. your eyes widen in shock when you see rafe, standing so close to you that you could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“rafe.. what the fuck are you doing here?”

he smiles down at you, taking a step closer, backing you into the bar. “i could ask you the same question. the divorce only finalized today, trying to forget me so soon, sweetheart?”

“i’m not your fucking sweetheart, rafe. now leave me alo-”

rafe grips at your hips, pulling your body into his. he dips his head down, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, groaning as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “i miss you. do you miss me?”

your pussy pulses from his words, the smell of him so intoxicating it had your head spinning more than it already was. you did love him, and you hated that he pushed you to file for divorce, but it’s how things were. you couldn’t mess up everything you’d fought for, not now, not ever.

you try and shove him back, but his hands tighten on your waist, not allowing you to move. “baby, stop. m’sorry, for everything. i know the divorce finalized today, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still fuck.. maybe try and just be friends, date, see where life takes us, right?”

he was trying to manipulate your drunk mind, and you couldn’t let him win. you refused to let him win. it was done. you were free of him, so why was he here and trying to reel you back in? he didn’t miss you, he missed the comfort you brought him, he missed how you’d always try and calm his mind, how you’d forgive him every time he fucked up. he didn’t miss you.

“rafe please, stop. i’m too drunk for this argument. you don’t fucking miss me, you miss the way i was for you,” you pause, your half-lidded eyes looking up and finding rafe’s beautiful blue eyes. “i can’t do this, please.”

you tear your eyes off his, knowing if you looked into them for too long, you’d be a goner. you’d go home with him, let him have his way with you, and wake up regretting it in the morning, because you and rafe could never work out. not as friends, not as a couple, not as anything.

rafe slides his left hand up your sides, reaching your face and cupping your cheek in his hand. his thumb slowly strokes the skin before he hooks his thumb and index finger under your chin, forcing your head up.

“baby.. i do miss you. please, just— just let me prove to you how much i fucking miss you.”

his words tug at your heartstrings, your body melting into his touch like it always did. tears well in your eyes, your chin wobbling as you look into his eyes, eyes that used to make your heart stop and made you feel safe and at home.

sighing, you nod your head once. “okay.. okay fine. just one night, we can look at it as… goodbye sex. right?”

a smile takes over rafe’s lips, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart. let’s go.”

he quickly grabs your hand, pulling you across the dance floor and out the doors of the club you were in. the warm, mid-summer air hits your skin, the light breeze sending goosebumps up your arms. rafe drags you across the parking lot, eagerly reaching his truck and unlocking it, opening the passenger door for you. you raise a brow at him, “someone’s really trying tonight, isn’t he? you stopped opening my door for me years ago.”

rafe chuckles. “i’m sorry for that… truly.”

you roll your eyes, giving him a small smile before lifting yourself into his truck, pulling on your seatbelt as he shuts the door for you. he rounds the front of his truck, hopping into the driver seat and starting the truck, putting it into reverse and speeding out of the clubs parking lot.

the ride back to rafe’s house is comfortably silent, and the second you two arrive, rafe is killing the engine and hopping out to help you out and into his house.

you barely make it through the front door before rafe’s lips are on yours. he grips your hips in his hands, squeezing tightly as his lips devour yours. he bites at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it softly. he rests his forehead against yours, the sound of both your heavy breathing filling the small entryway of his house.

“fuck i missed you, i missed you so fucking much sweetheart.” rafe breathes out, his hands slowly running up and down your sides.

he runs his hands down to your ass, squeezing at it softly before running them down further, his fingers playing with the hem of your dress. he begins slowly pulling the dress up your body, exposing your black lace thong, sucking in a sharp breath, “fuck.”

your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze, “rafe.. please? ‘m so horny, just need to feel you tonight, okay? just make me forget why we split up.”

rafe bites his bottom lip hard, nodding his head furiously. he pulls your dress off completely, tossing it behind you. he dips his head down again, his lips attacking the length of your neck with sloppy, open mouthed kisses. your knees grow weak, slightly shaking when he sucks softly at the skin of your neck, pulling back and groaning as he admires the deep purple bruise he’d marked you with.

“so beautiful,”

you drop to your knees, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt, finally pulling it free from the loops of his khakis and tossing it to the floor before working his button and zipper. rafe is quick to shove his khakis and boxers down, letting his hard cock spring free. you moan at the sight of him, hands reaching out hesitantly to grip at his thick shaft.

a low groan spills from rafe’s lips the second your hands wrap around him, giving slow and deliberate strokes. “always looked so pretty on your knees f’me, never wanna lose this, baby.”

you dart out your tongue, licking up the precum that had leaked from his tip. you moan at the taste of him on your tongue. you missed him, and this is definitely a huge step backward, but you’d deal with the consequences later. tonight, you wanted to soak up having him be attentive and loving with you again, he hadn’t been this way in so long.

“c’mon baby, suck my cock, need to feel those pretty lips wrapped ‘round me.”

you obey, wrapping your lips around his swollen tip and sucking at it lightly, your hands still slowly stroking at his shaft. rafe groans, his head thrown back in pleasure as his cock twitches in your hands. you slowly push more of him into your mouth, sucking him down your throat until he’s buried deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you hold him there, breathing in deep through your nose, while your tongue works at the vein on the underside of his cock.

you pull your head back, leaving only the tip in your mouth. you tease him, sucking at his head before pulling him out completely, giving quick strokes with your hands, your lips leaving soft kisses up and down his length.

rafe wraps his hand in your hair, tugging harshly at your messy locks as he groans in frustration. “baby, please? you wanna hear me beg? i’m not beneath begging, not with you at least.”

you shift on your knees, your clit pulsing at how desperate he was for you. this is what you wanted, for rafe to be desperate for your touch and attention. not wasting another second, you push him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you begin bobbing your head up and down, taking him all the way down your throat before slowly sliding him back out. rafe’s grip on your hair loosens, but he quickly tightens it back, yanking at your hair harshly as he holds you in place. he begins thrusting his hip, fucking himself down your throat at a quick pace, taking away your air with each push of his hips.

tears roll down your face, your throat already sore from how hard he was fucking it. you gag and moan around him, feeling him twitch in your mouth, the vein on the bottom of his shaft throbbing. you work your tongue against him, helping push him toward his release. rafe’s cock swells, low curses falling from his lips. he yanks your head back by your hair, his cock slipping from your lips, “goddamn… forgot how good you take a throat fucking, baby.. but i wanna cum somewhere else tonight.”

your tear-filled, bloodshot eyes meet his and he extends his hand out for you to grab. you hesitantly place your smaller hand in his, letting him pull you up off your knees. his lips are on yours in seconds, tongue slipping into your mouth, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. rafe listen you off the ground, pulling you into his arms as your legs wrap around his waist. he walks you into the large living room, his lips never leaving yours. he finally breaks the kiss, gently dropping you onto his couch, the cool leather chilling your hot skin.

rafe drops to his knees, his fingers digging into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs and tossing them onto the coffee table behind him. his eyes flit down to your dripping pussy, the bright blue of his eyes drowned out by his blown pupils. he grips your thighs in his hands, roughly spreading them further apart, “you’re soaked, sweetheart. i knew you fuckin’ missed me.”

you whimper, rolling your hips in a silent plea for him to touch you. rafe chuckles, his right hand releasing your thigh and moving to cup your pussy. he slides two fingers through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before bringing them to his lips, “mmm.. still so sweet.” he rasps.

rafe stands to his full height, lifting you off the couch and turning, sitting himself down with you in his lap. you grind yourself against his hard cock, moaning at the delicious pressure on your clit as you did. rafe lets his head fall back, his hands tightly gripping at your ass as he helped you slide yourself against his throbbing cock. you lift yourself onto your feet, hovering over him as you grasp his shaft in one hand, lining him with your entrance. rafe’s eyes find yours, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he waited to finally feel your pussy wrapped around him.

you slowly sink yourself down on his cock, the two of you moaning in unison. you sit yourself all the way down, burying him to the hilt, both of your hands flying to his shoulders, your nails digging into the soft skin. rafe hisses in a breath, his cock pulsing inside you, “can i move? please baby? wanna fuck this perfect fucking pussy.”

you whimper when he bucks his hips, the swollen head of his cock hitting at your sweet spot. “yes. please, rafe. please fuck me.”

that’s all rafe needed to hear. his hands make purchase on your hips, lifting you up off his cock, leaving only the tip inside before he slams himself back in. you cry out his name, leaning forward and burying your face in his neck. rafe lifts your hips slightly, allowing himself just enough room to quickly pound himself into you. your walls clench around him, tears rolling down your cheeks from the pleasure he was giving you but also because you knew, you couldn’t let him go again after this.

you lift your face from his neck, resting your forehead against his, the two of you staring into each others eyes as rafe continues to fuck himself inside you. rafe pulls his right hand off your hip, his thrusts slowing as he reaches up and swipes a tear from your cheek. “don’t cry, baby.”

you sniffle, “just feels so… fuck— so good, rafe.”

rafe slowly moves his hips, his thrusts slow and sensual. you cup his face in your hands, your eyes scanning his perfect face before falling to his lips. rafe leans forward, capturing your lips with his as the two of you move your hips in sync. you moan against his lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, “rafe.. ‘m so close… please..”

“i know baby… i know,” rafe lets out his out pleasure filled moan, his voice cracking as the next words leave his mouth, “i love you… fuck i love you, this is all about you, let it out, be my good girl and cum f’me, yeah?”

you let out a choked sob, the three small words that left his mouth pulling your heart in more ways than one. your mind is reeling, does he mean it? was losing you what he needed to realize he truly loves you and needs you? do you forgive him? your pussy clenches around rafe’s dick, your lower belly tightening as rafe’s slow strokes push you toward the edge. you sink your teeth into rafe’s shoulder, muffling your cries as you come undone around him, tears uncontrollably rolling down your face.

rafe groans, his thrusts slow and sloppy. his dick twitches inside you, a choked “i love you,” escaping him as he pushes in deep one final time, holding himself inside you as he fills your pussy with his cum.

the two of you are holding onto one another, coming down from your shared highs. heavy breathing fills the room, and when you fully come down from your bliss, you’re pulling yourself off of him, scrambling to find your panties, ignoring the wetness between your thighs and his cum seeping out of you. you’re quick to throw your panties on, turning to rush and find your dress, but rafe grabs your wrist, pulling you back into him.

you can’t look at him, “hey.. baby, look at me, please.”

a tear falls down your face, but you force yourself to look into his eyes, noticing that his are filled with his own unshed tears.

“this was a mistake.” you whisper, but rafe heard you anyways.

his brows furrow, “how can you say that?”

you try and push off of him, but he tightens his arms around you.

“rafe, please. we got a divorce. you made your bed, you chose to treat me like shit and lose me. we can’t work. we don’t work.”

rafe sighs, “listen. i meant everything i said, i’m fucking sorry. i love you, i just… goddamnit, i just suck at showing my emotions. i suck at letting people in, and because of that, i pushed you away and lost the best fucking thing that ever happened to me,” you laugh, rolling your eyes but rafe’s face never falters. “i’m not fucking joking. i fucking love you, okay? okay, y/n? i fucking love you, and i need you.”

you don’t know what to think. your divorce was just finalized, you can’t possibly go back… can you? you do love him, and never wanted this in the first place. what if you take him back and things go back to shit? you’ll look like an idiot.

rafe cups your face in his hands, his blue eyes shining as he stares back at you. “i see you overthinking this, and i understand. i do. but hear me out, please?”

“o—okay..”

rafe blows out a breath. “thank you. i know how i feel. i fucked up, and i want to prove to you that i can be better… for you. please, just, stay with me tonight, let me try and get a start on proving to you how much i need you back,” he pauses, swallowing harshly before he continues, “and if after tonight, you still feel the same.. you can leave and i’ll never bother you again.”

you think over his words, knowing that you would do anything to receive the love you once did from him again. you squeeze your eyes shut, running a hand through your hair as you let out a shaky breath. “rafe, i— fuck.. okay. fine. but if i do choose to take you back, you cannot go back to how things were. i can’t go through this again, i can’t look like the idiot who went running back just because her ex husband spewed a few sweet words after sex..”

rafe smiles hopefully, “i understand, i promise, i mean everything. i will prove to you how much i fucking love you,” he leaves a soft kiss to your lips, standing from the couch with you in his arms bridal style. “now, let’s get your upstairs and cleaned up, then we’ll lay in bed and we can talk about anything, whatever you want, tonight’s all about you, and i’m here to listen and do whatever i can to fix us.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @sarahsangelicdoll @nemesyaaa @cherryobx @httpsdrewstarkey @rafeyscurtainbangs @oceandriveab

[puckinghischier]

Hiiii happy new year! I absolutely adore your quinnxreader fics! I loved the one about his brothers asking her questions and calling her all the time because they love her so much! Would you consider writing more about that?

Maybe about their dynamic in person, meeting over Christmas or summer or something!??

Have a great day!

oh listen when the four of you are together for long periods of time? you’re convinced you and quinn will never have to have kids, because you’re gonna be parenting jack and luke for the rest of your lives.

like meeting at the lake house over the summer. even if ellen and jim are there with everyone, luke and jack still bug you with any and every question they have.

“y/n! what should i eat for lunch?”

“y/n! where’s the remote?”

“y/n! have you seen my swimming trunks?”

every time you take a breath, one of them is yelling for you for help, or advice, or nothing at all. jack is a regular at shouting your name from wherever he is in the house just to show you some video on his phone, or ask you how to spell a word for a text he’s sending.

quinn and ellen have both scolded them numerous times to leave you alone and quit treating you like a maid, but you don’t tell them you secretly love it. you hate that they’re acting like toddlers that can’t fend for themselves, but you love the comfort level they have with you to do it all.

and it’s not like they don’t return the favor.

you always manage to get a summer cold when you come to the lake house. you don’t know if it’s the water mixed with the chilly nights or the fact you’re always on the go and never resting, but you somehow always get a case of the sniffles for a few days each summer.

whenever it happens, jack and luke dote on you like you’re bedridden. constantly bringing you snacks and meds and juice. asking if you need anything, watching movies with you and quinn while all four of you cuddle on the couch.

ellen never fails to snap a picture of the occasion, all of her kids (you included) safe and sound under one roof, a rare occurrence in her world.

now, you have your own moments visiting the two youngest brothers, missing them just as badly as they miss you sometimes. when quinn is away on a particularly long road trip and jack and luke have a few home games, you’re booking a flight and off to see them.

you can always see how excited they are to have you at their games, making sure you have the best seats and even buying you a custom split hughes sweater, so you never have to choose one over the other.

they tell all of their teammates you’re coming and gesture to you throughout the whole game, making sure you saw that save, or watched them score a goal.

you go out with them after games and send quinn lots of pictures of his drunk, idiot brothers singing karaoke and displaying terrible dance moves.

quinn loves seeing you have the friendship with his brothers that you do, but he always reminds them to keep you safe, his protective side coming out, even though he knows they would never let anything happen.

still, it doesn’t keep them from finding sunglasses from god knows where, drunkenly waltzing you out of bar on either side of you, gesturing for people to move out of the way like they’re your bodyguards. every move you make, they’re sending (blurry) pictures of you safely outside the bar, getting into the uber, getting out of the uber, walking into their apartment building, in the elevator, unlocking their door, walking through their door, walking to the guest room, and one final shot of you in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin, to the groupchat you’re in with them and your boyfriend.

and once the apartment is quiet and their voices are reduced to light snores, you sneak into their rooms and take pictures of them, too, feeling just as much of a responsibility to keep them safe and cared for.

christmases? now those are an event, truly.

luke and jack are on you for months to help them pick out the perfect gift for quinn and ellen, claiming you know gifts way better than they do. you even fly out to jersey for a couple days in the middle of december, finding a stretch where they have a couple home games.

you take them out shopping, coaching and making sure they don’t pick out some random scarf for their mom or striped tie for quinn and jim. they take you to do all the touristy christmas things around the city (even if you’ve done it a million times before) and make fun of how you still can’t skate, even after all the years of being with quinn.

when you all finally make it back to michigan for the big family christmas, quinn steals you away for some one on one time, of course, but it’s never long lived. one of the two man-children, as quinn so affectionately calls them, comes barging in your room eventually, flopping down onto the bed right in-between you and quinn. and once one is in there, the other gets jealous and fights his way into the dog pile happening.

“can you two go annoy mom and dad or something? you just had her for four days, it’s my turn,” quinn huffs, your quiet bubble now burst.

“well, mom and dad told us to come annoy you guys, they have to wrap presents,” luke pouts to quinn, causing him to roll his eyes and accept his fate.

christmas morning with them is always your favorite, though.

jack and luke are always so high energy, wanting everyone to open their presents from them first so they can see the reactions.

they’re just like little kids, almost blurting out what it is as the person is opening it. they always tell ellen and quinn and jim you helped them, not wanting to take all the credit for themselves. but when it comes to their gifts to you? you start to think their claims that they’re terrible at gift giving is just a rouse to get you to visit them each year, because they never fail to give you the most heartfelt gifts.

like this christmas, they had gone in together on paying an artist to paint a collage of your favorite pictures of you and quinn together, the canvasses each in the shape of yours and quinn’s initials. you had noticed the canvas shaped like a plus sign in-between the two letters is blank, not knowing why they would leave such a large section bare.

when you look up to ask them, you notice they’re standing on either side of you, gesturing you to stand up. quinn is nowhere to be found, looking around for him as you stand and follow their lead to the back door of the large house.

when they open the door you’re met with the michigan snow, falling perfectly onto a beautifully decorated archway that you hadn’t noticed the night before. you noticed the poinsettias forming a walkway to the arch, finding quinn standing there under the perfectly hung mistletoe, waiting for you.

jack and luke walk push you on, staying behind in the warmth of the house.

you walk down the snow covered path, focusing on not falling the whole way.

once you reach the end of the path, quinn grabs your hand and plants you right in front of him.

he launches into a speech about how much he loves you, and how much he loves watching you with his family, how easily you’ve become a part of it, intertwined so deeply into his soul he couldn’t let you go, even if he wanted to, before dropping down on one knee, asking you to spend the rest of your life trusting him and loving him.

you immediately tell him yes, launching your body to his once he stands, tears streaming down your frozen face. right as you go to share a kiss to seal the intimate moment, you’re broken apart by the woops and hollers of none other than jack and luke, turning your head to see them barreling down the walkway towards you two.

“oh my god! we’re getting a sister! she’s actually gonna be ours now!” jack screams, crushing you two in a bear hug that would give quinn a run for his money.

“now quinn can’t use the excuse she’s his anymore, because now she’s ours. she’s gonna be a hughes! no more stingy quinn!” luke follows up, another weight added onto the already crushing hug.

“oh god, i didn’t think this through,” quinn groans, not enjoying his brothers’ newfound claim on you.

you giggle, encased in all the hughes love.

“also, we helped plan this, don’t let him hog all the credit, here. we planned our gift so it’d be the perfect segway into the proposal!” luke rushes out, too excited to keep it in any longer.

“the blank canvas is for engagement pictures!” jack confirms, beaming from ear to ear.

they finally release you and quinn from their clutches.

“okay, you guys have had your moment, now go back inside. she might getting ready to be your sister-in-law,” quinn emphasizes the last two words, “but she’s my fiancé, so we’ve earned some alone time.”

the two brothers huff and pout as they walk off, grumbling about how they can’t wait until you’re a hughes so he can’t claim you’re just his.

before you allow yourself the time with quinn, you run after your two best friends, tackling them in their own bear hug, despite how much larger they are than you.

“thank you guys. for this, for accepting me into your family, for sharing quinn with me,” you giggle at their scoff and luke’s mumble of ‘more like we share you with him’ before continuing. “i love you two. i’ll always be your big sister, yeah? as long as you’re always my two obnoxious little brothers.”

they squeeze you back so tightly you can’t breathe, telling you again how much they can’t wait for you to officially be part of their family.

quinn watches you with them, his own heart warmed despite the snow falling, wondering how in the world he got so lucky with such an amazing family, and now an even more amazing woman to bring into it.

[dmitriene]

may i pretty please req for low honor arthur with his cutesygf like he's so ew but he's so fine,,, maybe he gives her all his love after he's been gone for agees???

dolly i loove writing your requests you always feed into my arthur delusions because i barely think about writing for him on daily basis, and then there's you ‹𝟹 hope you would love this writing!

cw: really small glimpses of smut, flowers language.

arthur morgan goes missing for months, you realize, and this is a completely ordinary lifestyle for him, being in a gang, at the same time on the run from law enforcement, because of which they constantly have to change the once serene location of their camp and travel all over the wild west in endless circles, unlike your comfortable, carefree life, a small house in a clearing near the nearest city, without the need to plunge into the dirt, blood and wildness of the cruel world around.

but you miss him, oh, you do, this roughened, silly man that ripped out your heart from your very chest with soiled, calloused hands and kept it to himself, and you could hate him if he did it against your will, yet you love him so immensely, so willingly, his crooked smiles, his scarred fingers and their shaky gentleness when they trace over graceful lines of your face, the smoky taste that lingers over his chapped lips when he kisses you ever so sweetly, all molten, crusting sugar that sticks between your teeth's to remind of him after.

to remind, because he always leaves, calls you his doll, his pretty, lilac rose, love at a first sight, his girlfriend, pronounces all these words so lightly, gravelly and without hesitation, pressing you so close that you begin to melt from the searing warmth and fondness of his touch, he takes you apart carefully and in fragile pieces, when you find yourself pressed against your soft sheets by his heavy, cloaking body, breathing into his kiss swollen lips scalding and erratic, parting your pliable, dampened thighs for the swollen weight of him to settle between, your fingers tangling up his mussed, hazel brown hair.

and then, gone again, took away with the cool wind and clacking sound of hooves, arthur is not pressed against your naked, curled body with tightening hands wrapped around you, doesn't kisses your temple with feathery brushes to wake you up, there's not a single note, only rumpled sheets that hold the last sparks of his warmth, blooms of love bruises on your body, and even through not for the first time, your eyes flutter and sting wet, clumping at your quivering eyelashes, as you can only whisper brittle hopes for his return.

this fateful day, it's bright outside, sunny and warm with light breeze and barely pickable scent of flowers that surround your crouching form, fingers ruffling in the soil, handling some thin stems with utter carefulness as you place them in the dug hole and sprinkle with ground in a circle, making sure they stay tall and proudly standing, as the howling wind that dances along ruffled hems of your dress, brings with it rustling, cautious steps, closer and closer to your side, pulsing through your heart with something so nervous, but familiar.

arthur is back when it's starts to get warm, when the blinding, yellowish rays of sun lay over the tip of his hat, shielding your wide open, glimmering gaze, he got older, rougher, with tired, purple lines beneath his squinting, bluish green eyes that flutter at you with something fond and apologetic, laid out so raw and unguarded, like a gaze of a beaten dog, with his now bearded cheeks burning red, accenting the deepened wrinkles and numerous moles that are so easily confused with small, blooming freckles, and you fly to your feet, along soil and falling seedlings, throwing yourself into his spreaded arms.

cruel, cruel man, laughing at your beading tears and weak, trembling slaps you give to his expanding, muscular chest, he's loud, hoarse, almost too joyful for someone who abandoned his girlfriend, but he'd kiss it better, wrap his scarred, rough fingers around your wrists to still your hands and cradle you close, with a warm palm against the back of your head, thumbing over your hair, with a whispered, cooing apologies right to your ear, rubbing his deformed knuckles down your rippling spine, promising in answer to your pleas that he'd never leave like that ever again.

arthur's bounty bigger, more dangerous people at his tail, and he got a new mark at his shoulder that healed with uneven, webbing flesh in a nasty scar, gleaming silver along many cuts slicing through his skin, each one a new story you learn under the warm gleam of the lamp in your room, tracing the full lines of his body with unsteady fingers, memorizing him back, pressed over the curve of your naked body as the day he left, but now, he's going to linger, he swore.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[mattysketchup]

bf!matt streaming with influencer!reader

warnings… swearing, mentions of the doggy position (no actual smut), making out, unhinged twitch chat, use of y/n, slightly suggestive towards the end, use of y/n, matt gets a little jealous

(masterlist)

blessings and riches, tessa

“we’re streaming chris” nick spoke, warning chris before he said something stupid on live.

“oh hey guys” chris said with a goofy smile. “we decided to stream because it’s been so long since the last one”

“yeah, also matt is here i just think he’s just getting us some food” nick says to clear the air.

about fifteen minutes pass and the boys have been, well, chaotic.

“ ‘cause you can keep a trophy that you don’t deserve-”

“chris actually shut the fuck up please” nick begged. chris hadn’t stopped talking the entire stream, which led to nick snapping at him.

chris rolls his eyes at the comment, and looks at his phone.

“matt texted and said he was going to in n out, what do you want to eat” chris reads.

“just some fries and a dr pepper” nick says.

chris texts the orders to matt and begins to read the chat.

“people want matt up in here now” chris says, after reading a couple comments from the chat.

“everybody keeps asking if we’re gonna film with y/n again soon” nick says, squinting at the screen.

“yeah, we probably will” chris says. “she might be here right now or she left to get food with matt”

the second chris even mentions your presence, the chat goes wild.

the chat is filled with questions; when is your new video coming out? will you collab with the triplets again? are you dating anyone?

“yeah she’s out with matt but we can ask if she wants to hop on the stream later” nick says as chris offers to text you and ask.

| chris

hey when u and matt r back do u wanna hop on the stream

| me

yk what sureee

“she said sure” chris repeats your text, causing the chat to go crazier. (if possible)

around ten minutes pass, and the sound of you and matt walking in the house is noticeable by the boys.

“what up pussy gang” chris says as matt places the food on his bed, where the boys had been streaming

you follow behind him, awkwardly waving to the camera and sitting on matt’s bed.

the chat, once again, goes wild.

“so introduce yourself, give us a fun fact or two” nick says sarcastically, motioning to you.

“uhm hey, i’m y/n l/n, and i do youtube” you chuckle softly, the awkward silence speaking for you.

you and the boys talk some more while eating, until boredom starts to get the best of nick.

“should we play dress to impress?” nick suggests.

matt looks at the chat with his eyebrows raised. “chat should we play dress to impress?”

everybody in the chat starts saying yes, which ultimately led to the group playing the game.

“ok wait, y/n you start” nick says, moving out of the main seat so you could sit.

“okay the theme is…” you begin, waiting for the theme to be known. “famous youtuber. oh i’m about to fucking cook”

“wait how do i like move my screen?” you ask, turning to matt.

“you jus’ gotta…here” he brings his hand over yours, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he adjust your screen.

“ah thanks” you say, hoping no one notices the way you were hardcore blushing.

you put on the exact outfit you’re wearing; blue jeans, cropped shirt, grey jacket, the outfit is sort of basic but nonetheless a good choice.

you finish your outfit and it’s time for the runway. it’s your turn, and you start doing poses.

“wait i’m gonna put y/n l/n in the chat so people know who i am” you say as you do that.

“oh my f- you ate down” nick compliments you as you thank him.

“yeah y’look great” matt says, smiling. “aw thank you” you swoon.

you hit the pose where you are on your hands and knees, leading to matt’s disapproval.

“i hate that fucking doggy position” he says, and everyone goes wild.

you begin to laugh at the joke, looking at matt with a slightly alarmed face.

the audience didn’t know you were dating matt, and you didn’t need them too. however matt saying this was ironic, seeing as, well, you and matt have tried that position before.

the people vote, and that leaves you to see what you got. the results are in, and you won first place.

you start cheering and laughing, moving out of the way for matt to do his turn.

a while passes, the boys do their rounds and get a couple victories, which leads to boredom.

“should we answer some questions from the chat?” chris suggests in an attempt to cure the bored haze in the room.

you all agree and the chat gets filled with questions.

“ooh okay this one is for y/n” nick begins. “when is your next collab with carrington coming out?”

“i don’t know actually but we should definitely collab again” you smile. “i had a blast last time we did”

the moment another guys name is mentioned, matts head turns. he’s now very invested in the conversation.

although he knows that you’re his girlfriend who wouldn’t leave him, he couldn’t help but feel jealous that another man made you so happy.

the group reads a couple more questions and statements from the chat.

“someone said they got their back blown out in fresh love…” nick reads. “what the fuck.”

everyone laughs in pure shock and disbelief at why someone would randomly say that.

“can i have a sip?” you ask matt, motioning to the drink sitting in front of him.

“yeah, ‘course” he says, handing you the drink. “chat we’re probably gonna hop off soon”

another fifteen minutes pass and matt was being touchy, touchier than normal.

you knew matt wasn’t all about pda, especially on stream, so you knew it was something rather urgent.

“okay guys that is all for todays stream, thank you so much for tuning in and there will be a new video out on friday, bye!” chris says, ending the stream.

the moment chris closed out of that stream matt was quick to rush his brothers out of his room, wanting to be alone with you.

once the boys were gone, matt cupped your face into a passionate and hungry kiss.

a little bit passes and you pull away to catch your breath.

“matt hun what’s up?” you giggle from the sudden embrace.

he pushes you down on the bed, planting soft kisses on your neck and jaw.

“please sweetheart” matt whispers. “i jus’ need y’so fuckin’ bad”

your heart starts pounding harder than normal and you feel a familiar heat growing between your legs.

let’s just say, matt got what he needed.

tessa’s notes… i am so sorry for being inactive ! thank u all for reading, this is rlly long yet so rushed lol. thought i would bring this au back, lmk if i should make a proper introduction !!

more bf!matt x influencer!reader

comment 👾 to be added to the taglist !

[syverse]

i depend on you // ft. katsuki bakugou

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

bakugou can't bring himself to hate you, even after you left

warnings&a/n: if this is bad LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!!! got suddenly verrrry inspired by that one drawing on tiktok and maybe i misinterpreted it in the writing but shoot me who cares. this is like my first time writing something and actually finishing it i get so discouraged and give up. if you hate this i will never do this again.

In his life, there's a lot of things that Bakugou hates. He hates simple and unavoidable things like the rain, and he hates specific things like people who rely on everybody around them. He hates weak people, hates getting up too early in the morning, hates being too involved in other people's lives if he doesn’t necessarily have to be. But, as he sits alone at his desk, forced to listen to the obnoxious and overbearing sounds of society in Tokyo despite how late it is, Bakugo can’t think of anything he hates more than you. 

He spent a lot of his life loving you. He loved things like your unwavering conviction to do the right thing, he loved the look in your eyes when you stole glances from each other during class dinner back when you were both in highschool, and loved the way you whispered his name like a prayer when it was just the two of you under the covers of your shared bed. It was hard at first, but as the two of you grew together, so did his love. He learned to love through the sound of your laughter and the feeling of your gentle hands intertwining with his. Nimble fingers pressing into the palms of his hands before flipping them over and placing feather-like kisses on his fingerprints, he tries to swallow the bile that claws its path up his throat.  

Along with the symphony of nightlife outside of his agency, he can also pick out the faint sound of a news reporter being broadcasted on a billboard next to his building. Pictures of your face are shown on the large screen, along with the headline “PRO HERO TURNED VILLAIN” and Bakugou holds his breath for as long as he can. His phone lay flat on his desk in front of him, buzzing every few seconds from concerned friends and family members, but the blonde doesn’t dare to touch it. It had been at least a week since your departure from his agency, and the news had spread to all of Japan at this point, but the news and media were still eating it alive as if they were starving. 

Bakugou’s eyes glue shut as he wishes for memories of you to disappear, and for the heavy dread in his gut to fizz up and die out. He curses himself for not picking up on it sooner, the fact that you would leave. Looking back on it, he’s pretty sure he could put his finger on the exact moment when you started to fade away. When the universe in your eyes started to blur each time you looked at him, when the sense behind your touch became hesitant instead of gentle, and when your cheeks no longer touched your eyes when you smiled. He should’ve said something. Should’ve done a lot of things to at least delay your disappearance, but Bakugo was familiar with the fact that he was never good with words, and the fact that his heart was bottomless with fear of him making it worse. 

Bakugou absolutely hates you for leaving him here. He hates that he can’t throw every single I love you that came out of his mouth into a little box and set it to ashes, hates that he has to go back to home and still smell you on his bedsheets, hates that even though you’ve made it clear that you’re never coming back, he still patiently waits with bated breath to hear you whisper his name again.  So, as Katsuki picks himself off of his desk and drags himself to the elevator to return back his house, his house where you don't live anymore, he tries to convince himself to forget you, and ignores the way his tongue instinctively traces the letters of your name on the roof of his mouth.

[artdcnaldson]

hey <3 so i have been thinking about patrick’s sister au a lot and reread it and if by any chance its on your mind i just think it would be like crazy if mr.art is around for the holidays with your fam and being extra careful with the sneaking around even tho like seeing you like dressed up and enjoying the holiday season makes him like so down bad 🙏🏻🙏🏻 she gets him a present and he actually has a nice one for her too 🕯️🕯️ (i’ve been talking to this guy irl for sometime and im a little impatient so im trying to distract by rereading challengers stuff)

pat's SISTER 💜

this is still my absolute favorite au of all time i just feel like rahhhhh like i want to write it but i always want it to be perfect yk??

Anyways, yeah <3 <3 <3 <3

With Art's grandma in the retirement home, he doesn't really have a big reason to go home for Holiday break from Stanford. He goes home with you to your big, pretty house in the North East, and says it's bc he wants to see Patrick and make sure that you don't run your big mouth and tell him everything.

But you know he's really just eager to spend the holidays with you... because he loves you... you're his sweet girl, his pretty little plaything. He can't go a few weeks without slipping inside that perfect slice of heaven between your legs <3 And he loves you, obviously. <3

That's why he tries to ignore you at first <3 He loves you so much he doesn't want Patrick to get mad at you for fucking his best friend!

But it's hard to stay away when your mom has decided that this is the year you'll all go out and celebrate the holidays (which has nothing to do with your father's upcoming election, of course). You're out ice skating, and Art and Patrick can barely manage more than a wobble on their skates, but you're skating circles around them, doing little spins and trick because you took a figure skating class when you were twelve. And, god, he hates how cute you look. He hates that he even thought of you as cute and not something more degrading and in line with how he wants to think about you.

You go to the nearest botanical gardens to look at the decorations, sipping at hot chocolate, breath puffing out in front of your face. He wants to kiss you so badly, or maybe he wants to pull you in the nearest bathroom and fuck you over the sink. Both? It's all so confusing.

It's that night that Art finally goes to your room, and you're awake like you knew that he was going to be there. Not like you had been staying up until the middle of the night since your first night there, or anything. He pins you against your sheets, murmurs in your ear about how goddamn crazy you're driving him. And it all sounds like a confession of love in your ears.

But then his tongue is in your mouth and his fingers are rubbing over your clit and he's spitting into his hand so he can fuck you in your childhood bed. It's all so perfect, it's all so right. His hand clapped over your mouth, his hot breath panting into your neck.

You feel weird, when you knock on the door to his guest room for once. His hair is shaggy and messy from his shower, and he's wearing a stanford tennis crewneck. He looks so cozy, if not a little concerned that you're there.

"Are you insane? Patrick's gonna see y—" His gaze drops to your hands, to the carefully wrapped box in them. "Oh."

You sit on his bed, eyes frustratingly hopeful as you look up at him. He unwraps it carefully his brows knitting as he opens the box. Jesus fucking Christ.

"It's a watch!" You say, like it's that simple. Like it's not a really fucking nice one. "You're always wearing your digital one that beeps for no reason at 3am, and I know you'll never fix it, so I thought a future famous tennis player needs a big, fancy watch."

Big fancy watch indeed. He sighs, runs his hands through his hair. He thought he'd make it through the trip without having to be sappy, but, unfortunately, he was. He goes into the closet and grabs a little gift bag he'd brought. Just in case.

When he hands it to you, you look at him like he'd just proposed marriage or something. You open it to find something a little simpler than an expensive watch. It's a crewneck, just like the one he'd been wearing. Actually... it's a little more worn, not brand new at all. And when you pull it from the bag, you can smell his cologne on it.

"You're always stealing it anyway, so I just thought... y'know. I upgraded mine, so I figured you can just have it." He says. "It's not a big deal. And just don't wear it around Pat."

You don't say anything for a while. You just tug him to sit on the bed, then shift to your knees in front of him. "Can you stay quiet?" You whisper, lips brushing the hem of his boxers.

He nods, brushing your hair back with a surprisingly tender touch. You kiss the soft skin of his thighs, and he nearly shivers. You're quick to undress him, desperate to have access to the part of him that you love so much. You mouth at his balls as he steadily hardens above you, getting lost in the pulse of him on your tongue, the way he moans softly, just for you to hear.

When you finally take him into your mouth, he thinks he could probably love you, if he let himself. But wouldn't that be kind of cruel? To give you everything you want, when he knows that you love him so much more than he can love you? It almost makes him feel guilty when he cums down your throat, when you swallow his spend like it's a gift in and of itself.

You kiss his thigh twice, practically nuzzling against him before you get up and go back to bed.

[knivestothroats]

The Professionals - Tommy and Fletcher go to White Castle

the fast food place in question is not necessarily white castle i am just using the same naming convention as "buck and fletcher's excellent adventure" co-written with @victimeyez The Professionals || In The Woods Somewhere || Professional//Victim CW: long term captivity, panic attack, the realization that you got old and sold out

Tommy hated going in the basement.

It was dark and cold and too reminiscent of his old room. His old prison, more like. Especially after the last time he pissed Caius off. 

Your room is upstairs, he kept telling himself. Your room is upstairs. They’re not keeping you down here. 

But Tommy knew Fletcher could change that on a whim. He just had to be good and not give them a reason to. And that meant not protesting when Fletcher said he had to help look for something in the basement.

“I’m pretty sure the people I trade with are keeping more of my jars than they’re giving back,” Fletcher said. “I don’t know why else they’d be disappearing. Fuckers.”

Tommy was pretty sure the last part was said as a joke, but he wasn’t positive.

Fletcher still had shelves full of preserves, but they had said something ominous about making it through the winter. So, the two of them were digging through boxes to look for more jars. 

Fletcher made sure Tommy steered clear of certain boxes. He didn’t ask what was in them. 

Tommy pushed aside a box filled with clothes to check the next. But behind it was not a storage tote. It was long and rectangular - a hard case for an instrument. 

Tommy flipped open the latches and lifted the lid. Inside lay a bass guitar. It was a deep, sparkling blue with a strap patterned with lightning bolts. He gingerly picked it up and held it, positioning it over his knee like he was going to play.

“Put. That. Down.” Fletcher snarled from behind him. 

Tommy quickly returned the instrument to its case and shut the lid. 

“Sorry!”

He turned to apologize to Fletcher, but was taken aback by just how angry they looked. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t touch your stuff,” Tommy went on.

Fletcher said nothing. Their hands were clenched into fists at their side.

“Do you… play?” Tommy asked. He wasn’t sure if he should push it, but he felt the need to claw his way out of the furious silence.

“No,” Fletcher said shortly.

“Oh. Um…” Tommy tried to think of a better way to ask, then why do you have it? “Did you… want to learn?”

“It’s my friend’s.”

“Oh! Okay. They don’t, um…”

Fletcher folded their arms and looked up at the ceiling. “He doesn’t play these days.”

“I see.” Tommy drummed his fingers on the top of the case. “Did you… want to learn? Because I can - I can only play bass a little, but I can, like, follow along to tab, um, if…”

Fletcher looked down at him. Their expression had eased up, and they looked interested now.

“You play?”

“I used to play drums in my band,” Tommy said. “My friends showed me a little bit of their instruments.”

Tommy could swear he saw Fletcher’s eye twitch.

“Drums, huh?” they said flatly.

Tommy swallowed and nodded.

Fletcher sighed, closing their eyes for a brief moment. They slowly raised their arm and pointed.

“My guitar is over there.”

Tommy’s face lit up. “You play guitar!”

“Not in years,” Fletcher said.

“Were you in a band?” Tommy asked.

“...No.” Fletcher’s eyes were wandering, lost in thought. Hands still in fists folded over their arms. They wanted to say something but wouldn’t.

“You and your friend played together?” Tommy prompted.

“Yeah…” Fletcher took a breath like they were going to say something else, then shut their mouth. “Let’s keep looking”

~~

“I have to go into town, and I don’t want to leave you here alone,” Fletcher said. They had pulled up a chair to talk to Tommy as he sat on the edge of his bed. “Do you think you can handle coming along?”

“Um,” Tommy blinked a few times. The thought of getting out of the house should be exciting, but he had barely been out in public in years. Closest he got was the conventions he was taken to as a product demo, and the aquarium trip, where he’d had a panic attack. He ran his hands over his legs. “Like, where are we… going?”

“I have to do a supply run every month or so,” Fletcher said. “At least while there’s a group in the house. We need groceries. Sometimes I have to pick up ammo, medical supplies, things like that. But I don’t want to leave you here unsupervised, and I don’t trust the trainees to… well, you can ask Buck what happened when I left him behind to go on a run.”

It was odd to think of Buck being trapped here at the whims of violent tormentors. Tommy knew it had happened, of course, but seeing Buck come and go of his own volition made it difficult for those perceptions of him to coexist in his mind. 

“So… not really a choice, right?” Tommy forced a half-smile.

“Hm, no,” Fletcher said. “Just getting a vibe. Do you think you’re going to panic?”

“Um. I don’t know,” Tommy picked at the sheets.

“Well, look, we’ll see how it goes, maybe you can wait in the car for some stuff.” Fletcher shrugged. “But, we have to talk security measures. Can’t have you running off or running your mouth. It would just be a big mess for me to clean up, in the end. You understand that, right?”

Tommy nodded. 

“If anyone finds out about you or this place, I’d have to kill them,” Fletcher emphasized.

Tommy dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded again. 

“So, to be safe…” 

Fletcher pulled something out of their pocket that sent a shiver up Tommy’s spine.

It was his old collar. The one Caius had made him wear, with the electrified barbs that dug into the tender skin of his throat. He felt sick just looking at it.

He was grateful for the new, painless collar. Buck had still looked put off when he saw it, and it had made Tommy somewhat embarrassed, but to be honest, he didn’t know how he would feel not wearing a collar after all this time.

And now the old one was back.

What if they weren’t going on a supply run at all? What if Fletcher was taking him back to Caius?

“If you’re good,” Fletcher said, watching his pale expression. “Next time it can be a normal shock collar. No barbs. Okay?”

Tommy nodded, eyes never leaving the collar.

“Alright, c’mere.” Fletcher gestured for Tommy to lean forward. He obeyed in a stiff, robotic motion, forcing himself through the fear. They reached behind his neck and unbuckled the collar. Freed for a moment, but now his throat was rendered vulnerable to his old collar’s teeth. Tommy sat deathly still as Fletcher replaced his old collar, even when the barbs bit into his skin. He white-knuckled the sheets.

Tommy’s chest felt too tight for his heart, too tight for his lungs. Tears stung as his eyes. He couldn’t move. With a blink, the tears breached and spilled down his face.

“Woah, you good?” Fletcher sounded surprised.

Tommy tried to say “I’m okay,” but all that came out was a tight lipped “Mrmm.”

Fletcher observed him carefully. Hands twisted tight in the fabric, chest rising and falling rapidly, crying silently. 

They didn’t want to walk it back - relent and let him wear a different collar immediately after declaring he needed to wear this one. But they didn’t know how to comfort someone having a panic attack. They only knew how to instill fear, not subside it. 

Fletcher put their hands on Tommy’s arms.  

“Can you do this for me?” They gave him a gentle squeeze. “Can you keep it together?”

Tommy gave a slow, unconvincing nod.

“I won’t use it if you’re good,” Fletcher assured him. “And all you have to do to be good is do nothing.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and nodded again.

“Okay. Look at me. Deep breath, okay?”

Fletcher took a big, slow breath. Tommy followed along. Fletcher held it a few seconds, then slowly blew it out. Tommy’s breath came out shaky as he copied their actions. 

“In for five, hold for five, out for five. Okay? Do it again.”

In, two, three, four, five. Hold, two, three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five.

Despite the exercise, Tommy made an involuntary noise of distress - a muffled moan from behind his clenched jaw. He began to shake, nervous energy overflowing in his body.

“Okay, hey,” Fletcher moved their hands to his shoulders. “Watch me, watch.” They held up a hand. “Touch your thumb to your pinky, ring, index. Skip the middle. Pinky, ring, index.”

Tommy watched, unsure, before looking down at his own hand to mimic the movements. Pinky, ring, skip the middle, index.

“Okay, good. Now, pinky, middle, index. Pinky, middle, index.”

Pinky, middle, index. 

“Alternate those. Pinky, ring, index. Pinky, middle, index. You’ll have to think about it.”

Tommy tapped his thumb to the tip of each finger. When he changed the pattern he hesitated, making sure not to touch the finger he needed to skip. Fletcher was right, it required his focus. His breathing began to calm down on its own. 

“There you go!” Fletcher ruffled his hair. Tommy leaned into it, but the touch lasted only a moment. 

~~

There was a chill bite in the air. Fletcher had wrapped a scarf around Tommy’s neck to hide the collar, and given him a coat to wear - a heavy denim work jacket, lined with well-worn flannel. It dwarfed his thin frame, but kept him cozy.

Tommy pulled himself up into the truck, settling into the bench seat in the back.

Fletcher turned around in the driver’s seat to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

Tommy stiffened, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. “Uh…”

“Am I your chauffeur? Get up here.”

Tommy hesitated only a moment before clambering out of the back and moving up to ride shotgun. He tucked his hands between his thighs, both to keep them warm and to maintain his distance.

“What kind of music do you like?” Fletcher asked. They plugged an aux cord into an ipod and began to scroll.

“Oh, um, whatever you want to listen to is fine,” Tommy assured them.

“Not what I asked.”

“I, uh… I like punk music,” Tommy admitted.

Fletcher looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Um, like… Billy Talent, The Offspring, Destroy Boys, uh…”

“Green Day?”

“Yeah.”

“Against me!?”

“Yes, some.”

“Bouncing Souls?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I’m just going to put it on shuffle, you can tell me what you recognize.”

Fletcher drove carefully through the woods, following a path through the trees marked only by previous tire tread. The truck bumped along steadily until they emerged onto an empty country road. 

“We’re just going into town to go to the grocery store,” Fletcher explained. “There’s a farm I have a barter system with, and I normally like to go there for my produce, at least, but… I took Buck there one time. And having one guy with visible scarring who has to wait in the car is explainable enough. But a second guy with visible scarring who has to wait in the car, that starts to get suspicious. So, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t want to stop going there, but I also don’t want to have to stage a death cult situation if they catch on that something is up. They’re nice people.”

“...Sure.”

“I don’t… love going out in public, either,” Fletcher admitted. “But I’m good at lying. You… maybe just hang back a bit and try to stay calm. In fact, it’s best if you don’t talk to anyone. We can get you some headphones or something if it’s overstimulating. I don’t know how bad off you are.”

“I… I think I can hold it together,” Tommy mumbled. He watched the scenery go by out the window. Everything was frosted in snow – the trees, fields, the occasional home or warehouse set back from the road. It was all a reminder that a normal world still existed, even though he hadn't been part of it for years. 

Caius usually cuffed his hands to the inside door handle. Without being tethered in place, he wasn’t sure what to do with them, so he kept them tucked away. 

Tommy gasped suddenly and turned his head away from the window.

“What?” Fletcher asked, eyebrows raised.

“Just… dead cat. On the side of the road.”

“Aw, that’s awful.” Fletcher shook their head. “I don’t know why people still think it’s okay to have outdoor cats. They think their pets are somehow immune to the dangers of the world, and then they get hit by cars or eaten by coyotes or whatever. Or come home with fleas. Diseases.” They took their eyes off the road for a moment to look at Tommy, their gaze heavy on him. “It’s just not safe out there.”

Tommy swallowed and nodded, letting his eyes drift back outside. 

When they got to the grocery store, Tommy trailed close behind Fletcher, hands tucked into the pockets of the coat. Fletcher would ask for Tommy’s input occasionally, but mostly moved through swiftly, stocking up in bulk. His role was as their shadow, collecting items here and there at Fletcher’s direction.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else how on edge Fletcher was, but Tommy could see it. A tightness in their features, tension in their shoulders. The way their eyes moved around like they were scanning for threats. 

Tommy was feeling the anxiety as well. It had been so long since he had been around so many people that were just… normal. Going about their days. Didn’t know who he was, or what he was. The aquarium visit felt distant, faded like far more time had passed than actually had. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as the grocery store was, bustling with people. He caught some eyes lingering on the pale patches of his skin, on the long scar that ran down beside his eye. He shook his hair down in front of his face to cover him as much as it could, hiding a grimace when the motion tugged painfully on the collar.

It crossed his mind - what if he tried to get help? Even if he ran up to a stranger and begged them to help him, would they? Did it make a difference if he found the store manager, asked them to call the police? What if he made a scene, screaming that he was being held against his will?

He would probably just look crazy. People would turn away, more uncomfortable than concerned. He’d seen the shocking amount of apathy people had when he was sleeping rough. Even if someone cared, Fletcher would talk their way out of it. Or, if they fled the scene, they would find him later, and take him back. And then he’d really be in for it.

He couldn’t imagine it working. Nothing had worked out for him in years. All it would accomplish would be to ruin any good graces he had with Fletcher. They would never take him out of the lodge again. He could lose privileges to food, to outdoor access, to any small luxuries Fletcher allowed him. They would hurt him for sure. Worse - they might send him back.

So Tommy behaved. He only spoke when Fletcher asked him a question. He avoided eye contact with the other people in the store. He didn’t ask for anything. 

The cart was filled to the brim by the time they were done. Fletcher climbed into the bed of their truck and had Tommy pass them the bags so they could load them into coolers against the cab. 

“We need to leave room,” Fletcher said. “We have more pickups.”

Tommy didn’t ask where they were going. The next stop was a house in a residential neighborhood. He waited in the car while Fletcher went up and rang the doorbell. A woman answered and welcomed them inside. They emerged a few minutes later carrying a grocery bag, which they put in the back seat before driving off again.

 “You hungry?” Fletcher asked. 

They took Tommy to a fast food drive through. Tommy was overwhelmed by the amount of options on the menu, and picked a simple staple - cheeseburger, fries, chocolate shake. 

Tommy took a bite of the cheeseburger. It was… underwhelming. He really was spoiled by Fletcher’s cooking. Next, the fries. Now, those scratched an itch he didn’t know he had. He took a few more and dragged them through his milkshake, reveling in the complimentary flavors of salty and sweet. 

Tommy had scarfed down his food by the time they made their next stop. The truck pulled up along the curb outside of a music supply store. He looked at Fletcher in surprise, but didn’t say anything.

Fletcher said nothing either, just got out of the truck. Tommy followed them inside and up to the desk.

“Hey, I’m picking up an order for Fletcher.” They rapped their knuckles lightly against the counter. 

The employee tapped away at the computer. “Mkay… Fletcher? Yep, got it right here. That your truck? We’ll start bringing it out to ya.”

Fletcher nodded and headed back outside. Tommy lagged slightly as he followed, looking around wide eyed at the vast array of shiny new instruments. He badly wanted to stay and check some out, but he had to stay at Fletcher’s heel.

He still didn’t ask.

The employee wheeled out a u-cart. Most of it was in boxes. But the boxes had labels - images of what was inside. And the bass drum was in its own distinct travel case. 

Fletcher lowered the tailgate and began to load in the new drum set with the employee. Tommy jumped in as well, hands shaking. He remembered packing up Avi’s van to play shows. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Fletcher thanked the employee. They turned back to Tommy.

He was on the verge of hyperventilating. He had told Fletcher that he used to play drums, and now they were buying a whole drum set. A new drum set. But yet he couldn’t bring himself to say, is it for me? It felt too presumptuous, too fragile. If he didn’t ask, then Fletcher couldn’t hurt him with their answer. Instead he stood there and waited, wide eyed and trembling.

“Yes, they’re for you,” Fletcher said.

Tommy couldn’t contain himself. He brought his arms up, nearly squealing with excitement, before rushing forward and embracing Fletcher in a hug.

“Woah! Okay.” Fletcher recoiled at first, but Tommy held fast. They patted him awkwardly on the back. “Alright.”

“Thank you so much!” Tommy pulled back to talk face to face, but was still clinging to their coat, his eyes shining with emotion. “Thank you, thank you, what do I have to do?”

Fletcher half smiled. “Uh, not judge me for being out of practice.”

Tommy’s eyes widened again. “We’re going to play together?!”

“Yeah, I’m not going to let you have all the fun.”

Tommy stepped back, hands on his cheeks, beaming at the drums in the back of the truck.

“I can’t believe you bought a whole new kit,” he said in wonderment.

Fletcher chuckled. “I know. The employees probably think you’re my sugar baby.” They closed the tailgate and headed back to the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.”

Tommy was still buzzing with excitement, nearly bouncing in his seat.

“I can’t thank you enough, Fletcher,” he said. “Really, whatever I need to do-“”

“Relax,” Fletcher smirked at him. “I’m, uh, trying out this thing where I’m… a little nicer. I have my reasons. I’m trying to make your stay with me better.”

“I really, really appreciate it, Fletcher.”

“Yeah. I’m still gonna, you know, be mean sometimes. So.” They drummed their fingers on the steering wheel. “When I played with my friend, we could never find a drummer.”

Tommy sensed that this was sensitive information Fletcher was revealing. “Yeah, not enough of us to go around,” he offered a small laugh. “Maybe, if you want to call up your friend, we could all play together?”

Fletcher shook their head once. “He’s dead.”

“Oh.” Fuck. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” Fletcher cut him off. 

There was silence for a bit, other than the hum of the motor and the rumble of rough road. Tommy wracked his brain for how to recover the conversation, not wanting to end on such a sharp turn from positive to negative, but it was Fletcher who spoke up first.

“Me and him were partners in crime. There was another guy we ran with. We tried to get him to learn drums but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t exactly audition for a drummer and not let on that two-thirds of the band were murderers for hire. So it was just us.”

“It’s still fun to jam with friends,” Tommy encouraged, his voice soft. 

Fletcher nodded. They pulled out their ipod and turned the music back on. 

I am a patient boy

I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait

My time is like water down a drain 

~~

The two of them cleared out a section of the basement and set up the drums. Fletcher laid down an area rug so they wouldn’t be on the cold cement floor.

Tommy felt a little twist in his stomach and the prospect of having to spend time down there in order to play, but he wasn’t going to argue. 

“This thing is so out of tune,” Fletcher muttered to themself, strumming each string of the guitar over their knee. It was red, a little scuffed, and the strap was covered in pins and buttons which Fletcher had stopped a moment to sentimentally ruminate over. They adjusted the knobs as they plucked away. “Okay, let me see if I can remember…”

They played a few chords haltingly, cursing under their breath and trying different placements of their fingers. The chords came together. It was below tempo, but still recognizable as the intro to Blink-182’s “Dammit.” Fletcher giggled in accomplishment. 

Tommy hesitated with his sticks above the drums. It was going to be loud. He couldn’t imagine being allowed to be loud. And he hadn’t played in more than five years. What if he couldn’t do it anymore? What if he lost the skill he had spent so long honing? He made constant micro adjustments to the over-the-ear noise canceling earmuffs Fletcher had given him. 

“Just do some practice stuff,” Fletcher said, watching Tommy’s hesitance. “Like, uh… what do they call the, like, building block stuff, when you’re learning?”

“Rudiments?”

“Yeah, do some of that shit,” Fletcher said. “Just ease back into it.

Tommy ghosted the sticks above the skins a couple more times before finally bringing one down gently on the snare. It rattled back at him. He tried again, with more snap in his wrist. 

One… two… three… four… One… two… three… four… one, and, two, and, three, and, four, and…

The grip felt natural. The movements were a little stiff, but he could tell they would come back with a little exercise. He smiled, biting his lip as he moved from eighths to sixteenths.

Tommy tried a roll next. It was clunky, but not far off enough to discourage him. He looked up at Fletcher, expecting to share an excited smile - a bonding moment as they both returned to their instruments after years - but Fletcher was looking suddenly morose. Their eyes were on the ground, but their vision was distant. They plucked a single string with their thumb repeatedly, barely enough to make noise.

Tommy stopped playing. 

Fletcher looked up at him, saw his concerned expression, and huffed. They covered their eyes, then pinched their nose. 

“Don’t fucking look at me, man,” they groaned. “Turn your fucking stool around.”

Tommy shuffled around in his seat. He faced the wall awkwardly, drumsticks in his lap.

A pause, a sniff, a throat clearing cough. Foot tapping against the ground.

“Okay. I’m good. You can turn back around.”

Tommy turned back slowly. He tried to study Fletcher’s face without looking at them straight on.

“It’s fine,” Fletcher stated firmly. “I haven’t played… since.” They scratched their head. “It’s been like six years.”

Fletcher fell to silence again, eyes again dropping into the distance. Tommy didn’t dare interrupt.

“Were you like a full punk kid?” Fletcher asked, changing the subject. Their tone was light and conversational once more. “Or just like a pop punk suburbanite?”

“Mm… I mean, I grew up in a trailer park with my mom. It was a pretty safe neighborhood, honestly. But I got kicked out, and no one wanted to hire a seventeen year old, and then it was just one bad job to another…” Tommy looked down at his lap, swinging his feet absentmindedly. 

There was a long pause, and he realized he hadn’t answered the question.

“I did protests, put together some charity shows, whenever I wasn’t working. I was knicking some things to make ends meet, but I got caught, and no one paying anything would hire me. Then it was just whatever I could make off of shows and DIY shit, odd jobs, cleaning houses for friends, bottle returns. I couldn’t afford rent anywhere, so as soon as another sketchy roommate dipped, I’d be back sleeping in my car again. But when you’re in the scene, people don’t judge you so much for being poor, for sleeping rough. They’re a lot more accepting, willing to help out.”

Fletcher nodded, thinking for a moment before they spoke.

“I was never like, broke or homeless, but my family was, you know, working class. Both my parents worked and they had three kids, so I had to get a job when I was… 16 or 17 at a local diner. I was waiting tables but I was so bad at customer service they stuck me in back of house. That’s why I like to cook. But right after high school I started doing crime professionally. It took a minute to figure out how to get connected and get a name for yourself and start making money, but once you do, it’s good money. So by the time I was in my 20s I could pretty much buy whatever I wanted. But I never wanted to live the lifestyle of the rich and famous. For one, I didn’t want to flash blood money, but also, I grew up working for chump change and wearing hand-me-down and thrift store clothes, you know? Some people are desperate to ditch that lifestyle but I never felt like I should be a wealthy elite type. I always felt more comfortable in dive bars. Now, I am rich, but I try to be mostly self-sustaining, so I’m just sitting on the money.

“But - punk, right. I was into, well, all of it. Punk, emo, metal, hardcore. My parents didn’t really care if I was downtown at some DIY show until midnight, and mosh pits were the best outlet I had for my…” they gestured vaguely at themself. “You know, whatever is wrong with me. Violent aggression. And people would pick me up when I got knocked down. I always loved that about the scene. You knock each other down and pick each other up. It was violent but everyone had each other’s backs.” 

They both sat in silence for a few moments, remembering those days. 

“It’s funny how you end up sometimes,” Tommy mused aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, uh… never mind, I didn’t…”

“No, really, what did you mean?”

Fletcher didn’t seem angry. Yet. 

“Just that, you know, we were both punks, and uh, it’s like. Anarchy and rule breaking and f-freedom and stuff.”

He paused, hoping the implication would be enough without having to elaborate, but Fletcher still waited. Their eyes had narrowed.

“And now I’m like, an object. A possession. I just do whatever anyone tells me, which isn’t very punk rock. And you… you know.”

Fletcher remained silent. They just wanted him to say it. 

“You’re, like, an authority figure.”

Fletcher stood abruptly, lifting the guitar strap off their neck.

“I’m done for today.”

“Wait, no, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“”

“Just…” Fletcher put up their hand to silence Tommy. They picked up a practice pad and passed it to him. “Take this. Go to your room. Practice your fucking paradiddles.” 

Tommy took the pad, clutching it close along with his sticks. Fletcher returned their guitar to its case and snapped it closed. Tommy scurried up the stairs, eager to get out of Fletcher’s sight and retreat to his room. It was disappointing not to get time on the set yet, but he could feel he had touched on something very precarious in Fletcher. With no way of knowing what it was, he had to tread carefully, and then some. 

He closed the room to his door behind him, dropped the pad onto his bedside table, and flopped face-first onto his bed. Every time he thought things were going well with Fletcher, they’d suddenly get pissed off, and he would suffer for it. 

Years of learning to be a people-pleaser, learning to read people and what they wanted from him like his life depended on it - because it did. The one thing he thought he was truly good at, yet his time with Fletcher had shaken his confidence to the core. Nothing that Caius wanted worked - offering himself as a sex doll drove Fletcher to put a gun in his mouth. Attempted flattery was punished as mockery, asking permission was met with annoyance. The apologetic nature Caius had beaten into him for years was now treated like a nuisance. Fletcher could have moments of such startling kindness, like buying Tommy a whole new drumset just today - and then turn around and deliver such cruelty. Whatever this mood was, at least he wasn’t really being punished - for now - but he could stay up all night wondering what exactly he did wrong and still be no closer to understanding by morning. It was emotional whiplash, how fast their mood could change. Tommy was used to walking on eggshells, yet he constantly misstepped with Fletcher. 

He burrowed his face into his pillow and groaned, shaken by the interaction. Tommy felt frustrated and helpless. If he told Fletcher that, they might smile. Or - fuck, who knows. 

He sighed and reluctantly got back up, repositioning himself to work on his practice pad. He didn’t want to know what would happen if Fletcher caught him eschewing the practice they’d ordered. Tommy started to tap out his old fundamentals, obedient. 

Par-a-did-dle Par-a-did-dle Par-a-did-dle-

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @pretty-face-breaker @thesuffererrrr

[nijigasakilove]

Ahhhh I’ve missed my messy family drama so much. It’s been far too long. I see I have a new object of my hate this season, Kiyoka’s mom. Absolute bitch for NO reason. No wonder he’s so emotionally scarred if he grew up in a home with her. The absolute audacity of this bitch to insult Miyo’s appearance and background when she’s a guest in her house. I wanted to come thru the tv and wring her neck so bad. Kiyoka showed way more restraint than I.

Idek how his parents are together considering they’re total opposites. I mean I’m sure it was an arranged thing, but the fact Kiyoka dad seems happy with her makes me feel like there’s more to her than meets the eye. Still, no excuse for her behavior.

On the bright side, Kiyoka’s sister continues to be the best sister-in-law in animanga history! I love how she encourages Miyo to get outside her comfort zone and grow, yet remains patient and understanding of Miyo’s trauma. Genuinely great person.

Missed the way Miyo and Kiyoka look at each other so bad. So many cute scenes in this ep, handholding and Kiyoka looks at her with the softest, most understanding gaze now. That misunderstanding with them sharing the same bed and Miyo turning red as a beet was so damn cute.

I’m worried about this calamity the prince is talking about. It must have something to do with the shadowy figure stalking Miyo.. but who and what? This season is gonna be really interesting. Seems like way higher stakes than the last. Can’t wait. Great start.

[ii-evil-confessions]

ooc: [the yaouri allegations have literally taken over my brain i cannot goe ONE MINUTE without thinking "what if they kissed" im going to lose it im actually going to lose it. anyways heres more trivia because i love you guys]

because electrons usually hate their leg nubs, touching an electron's leg nub (and them letting you do so) is a sign of deep trust and affection!!!

electrons love to hoard things. especially shiny things that conduct electricity. electrical wire? gone. metal pipe? gone. your money in coins? gone.

speaking of money - atoms don't really have their own currency. sure, they DO have dollars and coins, but protons prefer to pay with favors and ious, neutrons don't care about how they have to pay, and electrons will mostly use money because paying with favors usually gets them into trouble.

electrons spark depending on their mood!!! happy? little zippy zaps! sad? barely any sparks! angry? you could power a small house for however long they stay angry! coughs in dont look at some of the very unethical power supplies some really nasty protons use

so yknow those thingies that those doctors rub together and they make electricity and they shock patients with it? yeah electrons can do that too

cats love boxesWHAT!!! WHO SAID THAT??

an electron's tail can pick up all sorts of stuff in the electromagnetic spectrum!!! they can send secret messages!!!! listen to music!!!! ECHOLOCATION!!!! i think (i am probably wrong)

an electron giving some one something from their hoard is like a big big sign of trust because its like "i trust you with this buddy pal this thingamabob is gonna be in good hands" *discreetly looks at ao3* cough cough umm i didnt do anything

electron tails are soooo bad at hiding emotions hahhah hahha haha hahahah hahahaaha

theyre FAST!!!!! ELECTRONS ARE FAST THEY ARE SPEEDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! VROOM VROOM OR SOMETHING

yknow that thing where in wall-e him and eva shared a spark and its like "omg they loooove each other" giggles. yeah electrons can do that too. do you see what im getting at

im losing it

haha omg dude once electron starts purring it will have so much trouble stopping dude. like its gonna be like "oh fuck fuck shit" and i will laugh at it

when electrons sneeze they give off a little burst of electricity. sneeze? kaboom.

they can flashbang people because i thought that was funny

when electron and positron meet expect more lore to be revealed

cats love boxe-gets shot omg was that a ghost omggg

electron would totally read fanfiction. it would never admit it. but zap would absolutely read fanfiction

[im literally dying im melting im dying im dead. waaah]

[theatrevelyan]

Oh! First time I see this is a thing but I’m hopping on board!

Sooo my Crow Rook is my main and she’s a city elf who found herself orphaned when her parents got killed as collaterals when the noble family they worked for got massacred Cousland style by another noble house. She got adopted into the de Riva because her dad had a bit of a shady past (just a bit of a thief, poor elf in a big city has to eat) and had connections within the crows and a family friend found her and took her in.

Her full name is Ashara and it’s in honor of queen Asha of Antiva. Her mom, who’s part Dalish and didn’t have the easiest time fitting in when growing up because of it, wanted to make sure her child didn’t have the same problems as her so she picked a mostly human name for her. She likes her name enough but mostly goes by Ash though and it’s quite fitting because of her ashen blond hair. Her best friend, Aurora is the daughter of the noble family her parents worked for and the only other survivor of the main family, she also joined the crows with her when they escaped and she is the only one that calls her Asha. It’s like a inner joke between them, the noble lady calling the maid’s daughter by the name of possibly the most famous queen Antiva ever had.

I know that technically Varric is the one that give Rook their nickname but I headcanon that she actually got it on a job where a mark mocked her calling her a rook instead of a crow to taunt her and she decided to take it as a mantle because she’s a little menace like that. Viago would never admit it but he was actually amused by her new nickname.

She generally prefers Ash to Rook because it feels more personal and it’s what Lucanis calls her when they are alone. Occasionally the rest of the party uses her full name, more rarely Ash.

So basically: Rook is for general use, Ashara for friends, Ash for close friends or family and Lucanis (yes he has special privileges lol) and Asha only by her bff and she hates it tbh lol.

Viago and Teia who sometimes affectionately call her Little Rook/Little Ash between themselves are outliers and should not be counted.

Hope that wasn’t too long! Sorry I just love talking about my OCs for this series.

It’s Monday Morning 👎👎👎🚫🚫

It’s the Rook Introduction Hour ! 🥳🥳🎊🎊🙌

For new people, it works like this: I ask you about your Rook, and if you want you can rb and answer, and then I’ll rb it back here and comment a bit !

I really made you all work last week, so let’s do something easier: What is the significance of your Rook’s (first) name? Who gave it to them— did they pick it themselves? Do they have any nicknames (besides Rook)? Who gave those to them? Do they like their name?

Feel free to answer as much/little as you like!

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

Why do you think the tides have slightly turned from "Elia deserves better than Rhaegar" to shipping her and Rhaegar together? Like what is the psychology behind these people because I've seen some of them like/reblog anti Rhaegar posts while also shipping Rhaegar x Elia at the same time.

hey anon! my thoughts are a bit messy, but i’ve done my best to explain them coherently :)

so, rhaegar was the best man anyone could have when elia was alive, and most people want the best for their favs. he was considered the most handsome, didn’t have a bad personality, and he was crown prince—meaning elia was almost queen, which is often seen as the greatest role a woman can have. the narrative also treats rhaegar as a beautiful, tragic, haunting figure, and elia actually had this very aesthetically pleasing man all to herself at one point! she was married to him, had children with him, and her life was so close to perfect! but rhaegar just had to go and ruin it. 😠

for many elia stans, if rhaegar hadn’t fallen in love with another woman (they want him to have been a completely different character), then everything would’ve been perfect, and elia would’ve had the best, most desirable life. however, that’s not what happened—elia met a very tragic end, and as a result, these stans feel double the bitterness. because of this bitterness, they blame rhaegar for everything (even though it’s not logical to do so), but he’s just too ‘perfect’ to let go of. so, for years these stans have made rhaegar revolve around elia, filling his tag with posts about her out of bitterness. so, i do believe that this obsession with rhaegar x elia has always been there, but i think it’s become a more favorable stance on the elia stan side of the fandom because of a mix of reasons.

plus, rhaegar is one of the few canon relationships we know elia had, since she’s not much of a character. because of this, and the fact that most people don’t like to stray too far from canon, most elia stans are forced to focus on rhaegar, which has created an echo chamber. basically, if a sentiment about elia and rhaegar’s relationship becomes popular, then the whole elia stan side of the fandom will likely regurgitate the sentiment. (also, this desire to stick close to canon is likely why the elia x arthur ship was so popular. while it’s a total crack ship, it had good aesthetics, and since elia and arthur at least knew each other, it allowed the stans to create their perfect fanfiction whilst sticking it to rhaegar. but remember, elia was actually married to rhaegar and had children with him, so while arthur is cool, rhaegar was always ‘top dog,’ meaning arthur would never be able to match up to rhaegar to most elia stans. also, the arthur x elia crack ship is likely her second most popular ship, which just shows how little elia stans have to work with, so they’re always forced to eventually return back to rhaegar for a lot of things.)

however, even if the elia x rhaegar ship gains more popularity, these stans will never stop hating rhaegar because he wasn’t ‘perfect’—and he wasn’t perfect because he didn’t love elia. plus, rhaegar loving another woman and supposedly kidnapping her is what began the war that led to elia’s tragic death. that’s bitterness times 1000. and while i don’t actually blame rhaegar for the war, i do think that this is how an elia stan sees it. i also don’t view rhaegar’s complex relationship with elia as a bad thing—it’s actually a very realistic take on an arranged marriage between two decent people. but most elia stans will never be able to get over the fact that they almost had everything, which is why many have it out for lyanna, as they consider her a thief who ruined their ‘perfection.’

tbh, that might be why so many elia stans are so obsessed with the idea that rhaegar only got with lyanna because of the prophecy—they don’t want to believe that rhaegar actually loved a different woman and not their perfect self insert elia. that’s a bit mean of me… but i don’t know what else one would call the ‘elia’ elia stans have created.

now that i’ve laid all those thoughts out, i’ll try to explain why the tides seem to be turning… i think it may have something to do with the ‘targaryens are all evil and bad’ sentiment losing popularity. i think this shift has occurred due to a mix of factors, such as years of fandom fights and fandom cycles leading to the targs being more liked now than before. it helps that canon doesn’t actually condemn the targs/favors them quite a bit, and the influx of new targ fans from HOTD has also contributed. this combination of reasons seems to have shifted the way the mainstream fandom discusses all the targaryen characters, including rhaegar. so, with this shift, it’s only natural that some elia stans/elia x rhaegar shippers—who’ve always been there—are using this opportunity to push their agenda. while these stans still hate rhaegar and see him as the bad guy, they just can’t let go of him. and as the mainstream fandom moves away from the anti targaryen sentiment, these smaller corners of the fandom, which tend to be echo chambers, are also affected, which has therefore led to a rise in rhaegar x elia shippers and the ‘shifting tide’ that you’ve also noticed.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Man if Marcy keeps ending up with like child protection services in all these fics over her parents being slightly distant then my parents should be in JAIL

[stabbyfoxandrew]

:(

[willowfey]

starting to think maybe waking up with an anxiety stomachache every single morning and then needing to spend the entire day trying to get rid of said anxiety just to maybe have a few minutes in the evening of feeling relaxed before going to bed is perhaps not normal

[chibishortdeath]

Great googley moogley it’s all going to shit! Every day becomes exponentially more terrifying!

And all perfectly timed to just right at the start of what’s supposed to be my adult life where I get my shit together and be useful and productive!

[timewizard-oldman]

i will never hate any bird. i love you geese i love you seagulls i love you pigeons i love you sparrows i love you vultures etc etc. all of them are special 2 me.