#and I don’t really know how to explore an idea without it being a face value

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Money in massive amounts is never clean.

To amass a certain level of wealth, there’s inevitably a little blood on your hands. That's why I prefer the Wayne family with a touch of moral ambiguity—keeps things interesting.

Sure, we can say Thomas Wayne was a good guy (I mean, "good billionaire" sounds like an oxymoron, but I’ll let it slide since he's fictional). He’s a surgeon, sometimes a co-CEO, and in some versions, he even takes a shot at being mayor. But let's be real—his wealth didn’t come from rainbows and fairy dust.

No, the Wayne fortune wasn’t built on saving puppies and planting trees. Somewhere in the family history, there’s probably a dark corner filled with skeletons, or you know, a handful of emerald mines for exemple. I wouldn't be shocked if Thomas's great-great-grandfather named a labor camp after his wife—romantic, right? Sweet sentiment aside, you don’t just wake up one day swimming in billions without a few questionable "business decisions" sprinkled in.

Yeah, the Waynes are old money, but we’re talking about billions—like "richer-than-Queen-Elizabeth" money. Battinson alone is worth what, 9.2 billion? And in the comics? Bruce is probably a trillionaire, and that fortune didn’t just materialize from charitable bake sales.

You can’t convince me that all of the Wayne money is squeaky clean. Even if Bruce himself isn’t aware of it, some of that fortune likely came from, oh I don’t know, oil deals that were less "above board" and more "we took it from the Middle East." Because, like I said, you don’t build an empire like the Waynes’ without some shady dealings. Let’s face it, billionaires don't get to that level of wealth by being saints.

Now with the new Penguin series, we’re about to see how wealth is really made—without the rose-tinted glasses. Sure, Oswald Cobblepot is a mobster and criminal, but money is money. You can work hard, play by the rules, and become a millionaire—that’s fair, that’s normal. But billionaires? I guarantee you they’ve done worse than Penguin to reach their fortune.

Fictional or not, it makes for a more grounded and realistic Gotham and I do hope Reeves will explore this idea.

In Nolan’s trilogy, we had the shiny, perfect Thomas Wayne and his oh-so-virtuous family, but we never really dug into how the Waynes probably weren’t doing great things for, you know, the rest of the world.

In the Snyderverse, we got that backstory about the Waynes being hunters and building their fortune by selling furs to the French, if I remember right—but still. You don’t become that filthy rich by just selling that.

We always pin the morally questionable label on the Kanes or the Arkhams (Martha Wayne's family), but the Waynes? They’re consistently portrayed as Gotham’s golden dynasty.

Anyway, that’s my ramble for the day.

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ UNSEE ! - satoru gojo / 10.15 / kinktober

CW: usage of a bullet vibrator, y/n is blindfolded, female anatomy, she/her, tiny bit of cunnilingus, petnames, gojo is smitten, body worship ig u can say as well.

Word Count: 3.3k

Author's Note: made it on time and posted on the correct day lmao. i got writers block at the WORST moment possible so yeah. i hope you enjoy. leave a like or reblog to show support!

“c’mon, angel, just trust me on this,” gojo said, holding out a black silk blindfold with a mischievous glint in his eyes. y/n eyed him skeptically, crossing her arms. “satoru, i’m exhausted. it’s been a long day, and i’m not in the mood for whatever you’re planning.”

he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush his thumb over her cheek. “that’s exactly why i want to do this. you deserve a little break. you’ve been running yourself ragged.”

she sighed, torn between the desire to sink into the nearest pillow and the undeniable pull of those playful blue eyes. “and the blindfold?” she questioned. “it’s part of the surprise. trust me, you won’t have to lift a finger. i’ll take care of everything.”

“satoru, i’m really not in the mood for one of your games right now…”

his expression softened, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. “it’s not a game, i promise. i just want to show you how much i appreciate you. let me do that?”

y/n hesitated, feeling the warmth of his hand on her face. as much as she wanted to argue, the sincerity in his eyes made her waver. “fine. but if this gets too ridiculous, i’m stopping.”

he chuckled, clearly pleased with himself as he tied the blindfold over her eyes. “you won’t regret this, i promise.”

she felt him guide her, his hands gentle but firm as he led her backward. the familiar softness of her bed brushed against her legs, and he eased her down, guiding her to lie back. he was uncharacteristically quiet, his touch slower and more deliberate than usual.

“satoru… what exactly are you planning?” she asked, unable to hide the nervous edge in her voice.

“just relax, angel,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “i told you, tonight is about you. you don’t have to do anything. just feel.”

y/n took a breath, her body instinctively tensing as she tried to adjust to the darkness behind the blindfold. she couldn’t see anything, but she felt every movement, every brush of his hand over her skin, more intensely than usual. it was disarming, almost unsettling, but there was a strange thrill in the uncertainty.

he trailed his fingers down her arm, his touch light and teasing. “you’re always so busy taking care of everything. tonight, let me take care of you.”

she shivered as his hands moved to her shoulders, gently massaging away the day’s tension. his lips followed, pressing feather-light kisses down her neck, and she found herself relaxing despite her earlier annoyance, melting into the warmth of his touch.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tender.

“yeah… it’s just…” she hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. “it’s different, not being able to see you.”

“that’s the point,” he said, his tone playful again. “just focus on what you feel.”

she hummed, surrendering to the sensation as his hands roamed over her body, exploring in ways that made her skin tingle. the darkness heightened everything—the warmth of his breath against her collarbone, the slow, deliberate way his hands traced over her curves.

he shifted, his weight pressing down beside her, his mouth brushing against hers. the kiss was slow, almost reverent, as if he were savoring every second. without the distraction of sight, she was hyper-aware of every detail—the softness of his lips, the way he tasted, the subtle hint of mint on his breath.

“you have no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. y/n swallowed, feeling her cheeks heat. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“maybe,” he said, pressing another kiss to her lips, deeper this time, filled with an intensity that left her breathless. “but i’m also crazy about you.”

he moved slowly, taking his time as he undressed her, his hands gliding over her skin in ways that made her shiver. he had never been this gentle, this attentive, and it was almost overwhelming, the way he worshipped every inch of her.

he was right there, surrounding her, and yet the blindfold made it feel like he was everywhere at once, his touch lingering on her skin long after he had moved on. each movement, each whisper, each press of his lips against her body built the tension between them, until she was aching for him in a way that had nothing to do with sight.

“satoru…” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “shh,” he said, his voice a soft command. “let me take care of you. let me show you how much i love you.”

and with that, he moved over her, his hands and mouth tracing a path that left her trembling beneath him. she was lost in him, surrounded by the darkness and the warmth of his touch, completely surrendered to the man who somehow always knew exactly how to unravel her.

gojo’s lips grazed the sensitive skin of y/n’s neck, sending shivers down her spine. he started with soft, teasing kisses, exploring the contours of her collarbone with an almost reverent touch. each kiss was deliberate, filled with warmth and affection. he paused to suck gently at the spot just beneath her ear, a playful bite that made her let out a long sigh, the sensation igniting a fire within her.

“you’re so responsive, angel,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and sultry. “i love how you react to me.”

y/n couldn't even respond, breathless as he continued his exploration, trailing kisses down the delicate line of her neck, each one lingering longer than the last. he took his time, savoring every inch of her, as if he were committing the feeling of her skin against his lips to memory. she leaned into him instinctively, feeling the pull of his warmth, every kiss stoking the flames of desire within her.

with each kiss, gojo moved lower, his hands sliding to her waist, fingers dancing along the hem of her top before he slipped it off, revealing her bare skin. he pressed soft kisses to her waist, tracing the curves of her body with his lips.

as he kissed along her waist, he made his way to her inner thighs, taking his time to explore the sensitive skin there. his kisses were feather-light at first, teasing her, making her squirm. y/n bit her lip, trying to suppress a whimper as he pressed a kiss just above her thigh, a deliberate tease that left her wanting more.

“satoru,” she breathed, her voice thick with need, but he simply smiled against her skin, enjoying the power he had over her.

he planted kisses along her inner thighs, each one deeper than the last, building the anticipation. his lips danced around the sensitive area, driving her wild with longing. he could feel her body responding, the way she instinctively opened up for him, urging him closer.

“please…” y/n gasped, her heart racing as he continued to tease her with his kisses, refusing to give in just yet. the sensation of his warm breath against her inner thighs sent waves of pleasure coursing through her.

“just a little longer, angel,” he said, his voice a playful whisper, as he lavished attention on her skin, making sure she felt every kiss. “i want to hear you.”

his kisses became bolder, more deliberate, as he explored every inch of her, leaving trails of fire wherever he touched. y/n could hardly think, lost in the sensations, the way his lips moved against her. he knew exactly how to take her to the edge, to make her crave him even more, and she was helpless to resist, completely surrendered to the pleasure he was giving her.

“you’re driving me crazy,” y/n confessed, breathless and wanting. “good,” he replied, a smirk evident in his voice. “i want you to feel everything. let me take care of you, angel.”

and with that, he pressed his lips to her inner thighs once more, drawing out every gasp and sigh, as he skillfully navigated the thin line between teasing and tantalizing, completely focused on her pleasure.

gojo’s fingers traced along y/n’s body, moving slowly, until he reached for something from the bedside table. she could hear him fiddling with something, a soft whirring sound catching her attention.

“satoru?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

“shh, angel,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “trust me, you’re going to like this.”

she felt the subtle vibration against her thigh first, the sensation both foreign and thrilling. gojo’s hand guided the small bullet-shaped toy, moving it in slow, teasing circles. he brought it to the sensitive skin along her inner thighs, just barely brushing it over the places where she ached for him most.

the soft hum of the toy mixed with the sound of her quickening breaths, each gentle press making her toes curl. he dragged the toy along her bud, letting it hover over the most sensitive spot, drawing out a soft gasp from her lips.

“h-holy…” she whispered, her voice trembling as he continued to move the toy in deliberate patterns, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. she couldn’t see him, but she could feel his eyes on her, savoring every reaction.

“that’s it, angel,” he murmured, pressing the toy against her bud in slow, rhythmic pulses, the vibrations building steadily. “just feel. let go.”

she squirmed under his touch, the sensation of the toy mixed with the warmth of his hands as he held her steady, keeping her close. his lips brushed against her neck, trailing kisses as he gradually increased the intensity, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“satoru, please…” she gasped, completely lost in the sensations as he continued his gentle assault, driving her wild with need.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing one final kiss to her lips as she surrendered to him, the vibrations and his tender touch overwhelming her, pulling her under until all she could feel was him.

gojo kept the toy moving in slow, teasing circles, letting her feel every pulse, every vibration, each one building on the last. his hand pressed against her hip, holding her steady as she began to squirm under his touch, unable to stay still with the heat pooling low in her stomach.

“you feel that, angel?” he whispered, his voice thick with barely restrained desire. “just let it happen. let yourself go.”

he pressed the toy closer, increasing the intensity, letting the vibrations thrum through her most sensitive spots. every time she tried to catch her breath, he shifted, brushing the toy against her abused bud in a way that made her gasp, the sound filling the room. her hands instinctively gripped the sheets, knuckles white as she tried to hold on.

“satoru… it’s… it’s so much��” she managed to breathe, her voice trembling as he continued his relentless teasing.

“that’s it,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her neck, savoring every shiver, every soft whimper that escaped her lips. “i want you to feel every second, angel. just let me take you there.”

he adjusted the toy, moving it with a bit more pressure, finding the perfect spot and holding it steady, his lips pressing softly to her collarbone. he could feel her body tense beneath him, the way her breathing quickened, each pulse of the toy pushing her closer to the edge.

“don’t hold back,” he whispered, his fingers grazing her side, grounding her in the warmth of his touch. “i want to hear you, want to feel you let go.”

she could barely hold on, her body wound so tightly that every tiny movement sent shockwaves through her. the way he was watching her, the way he seemed so focused on her pleasure, only heightened the sensations coursing through her.

“satoru… please…” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper as she teetered on the brink, the pleasure building so intensely that she felt like she might break apart.

“i’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips just as he pushed the toy a little harder, the vibrations intensifying in a way that made her cry out, her body finally surrendering to the overwhelming sensation. her grip on the sheets tightened as the waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless and trembling beneath him.

as she rode out the last of it, gojo held her close, his hand gently tracing circles on her skin, soothing her as she slowly came back down. “beautiful,” he whispered, a soft smile playing on his lips as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “you did so well, angel.” he smiled, a look of unpurity in his eyes from his next actions.

gojo didn’t give her a moment to recover; instead, he kept the toy pressed against her sensetive bud, turning the intensity up just slightly, enough to send another surge of sensation through her already sensitive body. she let out a soft whimper, her head falling back, overwhelmed by the sudden return of the vibrations.

“you thought i was done?” he asked, a playful edge in his voice as he brushed a thumb over her cheek. “i want to see you fall apart for me again.”

her breathing was shallow, chest rising and falling as the sensations built quickly, even more intense this time. her body, still sensitive, responded immediately, each movement of the toy drawing out soft, helpless noises from her lips. she couldn’t form words, couldn’t think, only react as the pleasure mounted, her body instinctively arching into his touch.

“that’s it, angel,” he murmured, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. “don’t hold back… let me hear you.”

all she could do was let out a broken moan, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to anchor herself. he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her temple, never letting up on the toy as he adjusted it, finding that perfect spot once again and holding it steady.

her breathing hitched, eyes squeezing shut behind the blindfold as she felt herself spiraling, her mind hazy, body trembling as he continued his slow, unrelenting movements. every nerve was on fire, her entire world narrowed down to the sensation he was creating, and she was powerless to resist it.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his tone gentle but with a hint of mischief. “completely mine.”

she let out another soft, breathless whine, her body instinctively moving against him as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, the intensity almost too much to handle. her lips parted, but no words came—only a broken cry as she fell apart again, the sensations crashing over her like a wave, leaving her trembling and breathless in his arms.

as she came down, he held her close, brushing gentle fingers through her hair, pressing soft kisses to her forehead. “i’m right here,” he whispered, his voice a soothing comfort as she tried to catch her breath. “i’ve got you, angel. you did so well.”

as her breathing slowed, gojo shifted, his hands gentle as he moved lower, trailing soft kisses down her stomach, each touch igniting sparks along her already sensitive skin. she shivered, barely able to process what he was doing before he was there, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh, teasing her with the warmth of his breath.

he paused, glancing up at her with that familiar playful glint in his eyes, his fingers brushing over her skin. “you’re still so responsive, angel,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

before she could catch her breath, she felt the warmth of his tongue, a slow, deliberate motion that made her body tense with the renewed sensation. a soft, breathless sound escaped her lips, her hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, her nails pressing into his skin as he continued, each motion gentle but maddeningly precise.

she couldn’t form words, her voice reduced to a series of quiet gasps and whimpers as he moved with a steady, unhurried pace, savoring every reaction. his hands held her firmly, keeping her close, grounding her as he worked, the intensity building once more, each soft flick of his tongue sending a fresh wave of pleasure through her.

he took his time, his mouth exploring, tasting, drawing out sounds from her that were barely more than whispers, her head falling back as he continued, pushing her further than she thought possible. the sensations were overwhelming, her body responding instinctively, lost in the warmth of his touch, the gentleness of his lips, the way he seemed to know exactly where to linger, where to press.

her breathing came in quick, shallow gasps, the pleasure building until she could barely think, her world narrowed down to the feeling of his mouth on her, his hands holding her steady, his soft, reverent murmurs between each movement. she felt herself tipping over the edge again, her body surrendering completely, her voice reduced to a single, trembling cry as he took her over once more, leaving her breathless and spent in his embrace.

when she finally came down, he pressed a final kiss to her thigh, looking up at her with a soft smile. “you’re amazing, angel,” he whispered, his hand gently brushing over her side as he pulled her close.

gojo lingered beside her, his hands tracing soothing patterns on her skin as she caught her breath. after a moment, he reached up, fingers gently sliding under the edge of the blindfold. slowly, he pulled it down, revealing her half-lidded, teary eyes, still hazy from the intensity of what she’d just felt.

he paused, taking in the sight of her, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he brushed a stray tear from her cheek. “there you are,” he murmured, his voice tender as he looked into her eyes. “you’re even more beautiful than i imagined.”

her gaze met his, her eyes filled with a mixture of warmth, vulnerability, and the remnants of pleasure that left her breathless. she tried to find her voice, but all that came out was a soft, shaky sigh as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“you did so well, angel,” he whispered, his fingers brushing back a few strands of her hair. “thank you for trusting me.”

she managed a small, contented smile, her hands finding their way to his, squeezing gently. he stayed close, his eyes never leaving hers, a look of absolute adoration on his face as he held her, grounding her in the warmth of his embrace.

“i’ll always take care of you,” he said softly, leaning in to press another kiss to her lips, slow and tender, as if savoring every second. he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, letting her rest against him as the aftershocks faded, leaving only the quiet, shared warmth between them.

as she regained her breath, y/n looked up at gojo with a feigned scowl, brushing her fingers over her still flushed face. “you’re absolutely ruthless, satoru,” she muttered, mock annoyance lacing her words. “not even a shred of mercy… you couldn’t have taken it a little easier?”

he chuckled, a smirk spreading across his face as he leaned down, his hand resting lightly on her waist. “oh, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” he replied, his tone full of playful confidence. “i know you did. i can still taste it.”

her cheeks flushed deeper at his words, and she swatted at his shoulder with a huff, though her lips betrayed her with a small smile. he caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“admit it,” he said, his voice softening as he looked at her with a mixture of mischief and affection. “you loved every second.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that broke through. “you’re impossible,” she sighed, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close once more.

“maybe,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “but you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

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[hidden-ember]

simon says

🗯 pairing: captain john price x fem!reader | simon ghost riley x fem!reader

🗯 tags: nsfw - mdni, cucking, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected pinv, established relationship, praise, ooc as fuck i'm sure

a/n: this one was incredibly self indulgent, so i got a little carried away with it. i fully intend to do a pt. 2 if you all want that!

You couldn’t believe the situation you found yourself in: your husband of several years just confessed to you he had always had a fantasy of watching you with another man. You expressed that you weren’t opposed to the idea; as long as it was something he truly wanted then you’d do your best to please him. 

When he threw out some names of people you may be interested in he never expected to see a spark of desire in your eyes as he mentioned his former boss.

“Oh really?” Ghost asked with a raise of his eyebrow, his tone laced with amusement. 

“Y-yeah,” you said shyly, not wanting to go into detail about how attractive you found Captain Price. 

The older man led Simon in a specialized task force for a few years, both having since moved on to different military ventures and then retirement. 

Price had always caught your eye at any get-together he and the rest of Ghost’s former team would attend, and you had never imagined revealing this attraction to your husband. Until now. 

Any time he would tower over you while making small talk, cerulean eyes subtly trailing down to your lips and chest before meeting your gaze you had to fight to keep your face from flushing. 

Your dreams the nights after these gatherings would be filled with visions of the Captain buried between your legs, his facial hair prickling your skin as he worked you with his mouth until your legs were trembling. 

Ghost cleared his throat, sensing you were deep in thought. “I’ll text him now?”

Once you gave him the go ahead he reached for his phone. His fingers trembled slightly as he tapped out a message, inviting Price over Friday evening for some ‘fun’. 

He tossed his phone down and leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to enjoy watching you with him.” 

“I hope so, Simon, because I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise,” you responded, pulling back to look at him. You wanted him to know even though you were indulging him in this fantasy, you would never imagine being unfaithful to him without his knowledge and without him being involved.

Ghost met your gaze, his eyes filled with appreciation and desire for you. “I know, love.” 

You left it at that, both carrying on with the rest of your week without mentioning it again until shortly before Price’s arrival.

“You’re still okay with this, yeah?” Ghost wrapped his arms around you from behind as you did your makeup in the mirror. 

“More than okay,” you reassured him as he tugged at your earlobe with his teeth. 

“Easy now,” he chuckled, a hint of warning in his tone. 

That was the best thing about this arrangement. You had always been attracted to Price and were eager to explore that, but you were most looking forward to what came after.

You knew that once he watched Price fuck you, Ghost would be ravenous. You had a long night ahead of him proving to you that while he may allow another man to touch you, they’d never be able to touch you better than he could. 

“I don’t know what to wear.” Your face grew hot as you began wondering what Price would think when he saw you again. 

“Anything,” Ghost replied firmly. “You look great in anything.”

“Well I have that dress from-,” you paused when he began shaking his head. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he murmured against your neck, trailing soft kisses down it as his hands settled on your stomach. “You’ll be waiting for us in the bedroom, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whispered, realization dawning on you that he was suggesting you wear lingerie. 

"Hmmm. Price seems like the type to enjoy white." You thought out loud, a lace baby doll you had in your dresser coming to mind. "Something about corrupting a good girl."

“S’that what you are?” Ghost smirked while making eye contact with you in the mirror. 

You laughed away his teasing, knowing he was only attempting to get you riled up. “Oh, please. If anyone’s corrupted me it’s you, but let me have my fun.”

"That's perfect," he agreed, his eyes roaming over the reflection of your body, envisioning the delicate white lace. "He's going to love seeing you like that." He leaned in close and whispered into your ear, his voice low and husky, “And so will I.”

His stiffening cock was now pressing firmly into the small of your back and you grinned at him in the mirror. “I can see you’re very excited about this.”

Ghost's eyes darted downward before meeting yours again, a mix of embarrassment and desire flushing his cheeks. "Not every day my wife offers up herself and her body for another man," he confessed with a shrug that did little to hide his arousal.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love.” You squeezed his hands reassuringly. “It’s hot you’re so into this.”

"Thank you," Ghost whispered as he wrapped his arms around you tighter. "I just want to make sure everything is perfect for Price tonight. He deserves it."

“Yeah? Deserves to fuck your wife?” You teased, knowing it would only make the hardness poking into your back ache even more. 

Ghost chuckled darkly at your words. "Yeah, he does," he growled while pressing his hips forward slightly into you with a noticeable amount of possession in his movement. "And I plan to enjoy every filthy second of it."

You spun around to face him, and he immediately stepped forward, pushing you into the edge of the vanity. Ghost groaned as he felt your hands slip beneath his shirt to stroke his stomach, a thick layer of fat having formed over his abs since retirement that drove you crazy in all the right ways. 

"Don't tease me like that," he warned when your fingers moved higher up his chest.

"Fine,” you conceded with a soft sigh, sliding out from under his shirt. “I’ll keep my hands to myself until he arrives.”

"That’s a good girl," he praised, loving how aroused you were getting. He pulled back slightly but kept his hands on your waist. "Now, why don't you get dressed and wait for us on the bed, hmm?”

As you moved to put on the white lace number and matching silk thong you knew both men would adore you in, Ghost left for the living room, leaving your bedroom door slightly ajar. You bit down on your lip nervously when you heard the doorbell buzz not even a few minutes later. 

Ghost’s heart raced with anticipation as he approached the front door and saw Price’s silhouette against the dim street light shining through the glass. He knew you were waiting for them in the bedroom, dressed in the lingerie that he had helped pick out and he had to make an effort to appear nonchalant as he opened the door for Price.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart rate quickening as you heard the Captain’s commanding voice fill your home. Their conversation was muffled, but the distinct sound of ice and alcohol being poured made you smirk to yourself.

The pair catching up over a drink like former colleagues while you were waiting in the bedroom like a piece of meat to be devoured only added to your arousal, the wetness gathering between your legs becoming more prominent the longer they left you alone. Ghost seemed to be carrying most of the conversation for once, probably out of sheer excitement.  

Price appeared to be enjoying himself as well, laughing at something Ghost said before they made their way to the bedroom together.

As they entered the room your eyes darted between your husband and his friend, unsure who to look at. The click of the door closing echoed through your mind as you pictured what was about to happen. 

Ghost took a step towards you, his eyes fixed on your body as he admired the sexy lingerie that clung to your curves. He couldn't help but feel a surge of possessiveness as he turned to look at Price, who was now standing close behind him.

He swallowed hard, the bob of his Adam's apple betraying his nervousness, before stepping to the side and sitting in the armchair at the corner of your room.

Price looked you up and down slowly, taking in every inch of your exposed body. His eyes lingered on your full breasts before traveling back up to meet yours. 

"You look bloody incredible, Mrs. Riley," he smirked, knowing it would drive Ghost mad to hear you being referred to with his last name. You were his after all and Price would do well to remember that. You glanced at Simon briefly, surprised to see his face beaming with pride rather than annoyance as he watched Price approach you. 

“Thank you, John,” you blushed, having to crane your neck to look at him the closer he got to the bed. The lamp in the corner illuminated his face as he stood before you and you noticed even more gray hair dusting his temples and beard than the last time you saw him. 

He wasted no time before kneeling down, his calloused hands running up and down your thighs lightly before stopping at your knees. You were sure your face was completely bright red now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“Oh, sweet thing,” Price let out a breath as he spread your legs. “You’re soaked already.”

He placed a kiss to your core through your panties, holding eye contact with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Ghost sat up a little straighter in his seat at the sight.

The silk fabric clung to your folds now, saturated with your arousal. You felt yourself throbbing now, cunt desperate for attention. Many nights you had dreamed of being in this exact position, his handsome face staring up at you from between your legs.

Disappointment must have been evident on your face as Price pulled back and shifted on his feet, moving to lean over you. Your pouting drew a raspy chuckle out of your husband.

“Needy girl you have, Simon,” Price observed with a small smile, turning to look at him. He gave a single nod in response, eager for Price to continue.

With gentle hands he brushed your hair behind your shoulders as his gaze roamed your chest, his hum of satisfaction reverberating through the room. He unfastened the clasp on the front of the baby doll, letting it fall off of you and onto the bed. 

Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit your skin. Price’s hands found their way to your breasts immediately, beginning to roll his thumbs over your nipples in tight circles. He studied your face closely as it contorted in pleasure, admired the way your breath caught in your throat audibly at the sensation. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck you,” Price whispered into your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps on your skin. His lips brushed against your earlobe and your eyes widened, finding Ghost’s. He watched you with a hunger and possessiveness you had never seen from him before, clearly having heard what the other man said to you. 

You gasped in surprise when Price’s lips latched onto your nipple, too distracted by Simon to realize he had wandered lower once more. You moaned softly as his tongue circled the hardened bud, back arching as he squeezed your other breast roughly. 

Ghost watched attentively from his corner seat, a mix of arousal and pride coursing through him. He could tell by the way that you were responding that Price was taking good care of you, making sure you were enjoying every moment. 

Price’s mouth left your tit and he captured your lips in a kiss. It felt strange at first but you softened, losing yourself to the feeling of him. The kiss deepend as Price’s tongue slid past your lips, tasting you for the first time. His hands wandered down your body, teasingly grazing the hem of your panties before finally slipping beneath to run along your slick folds.

“All this for me, hm?” Price murmured against your lips.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. A half truth. It was for him, yes. But it was just as much for Simon, who was now palming himself through his jeans.

Seeing how excited you were already, he didn’t hesitate to part your folds, circling your entrance once before pumping two fingers inside of you. You let out an exasperated gasp and squirmed as he did.

“Oh, c’mon, angel. I know you can take it.” He winked at you before continuing. “This is nothing compared to your husband’s cock,” he said playfully before curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting faster now.

"That's a good girl," he praised you as he felt your relax around his fingers, rewarding you by pressing circles into your swollen clit in a steady rhythm with his thumb.   

Ghost could tell by the sounds you were making that you were getting close already, the thought only serving to fuel his arousal. His chest tightened as he watched Price work you open. You faintly made out the sound of a zipper as your senses started to be overloaded, vision blurry and ears ringing.

“Fuck, John. I’m close,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his free one to steady yourself as your climax rapidly approached. His muscles tensed under your grip; he was every bit as strong as you had imagined. 

Price tutted at you, shaking his head. “Ask your husband for permission, dear.”

“Simon,” you pleaded. “Simon, please, I-” your breath was coming in ragged gasps, leaving you incapable of forming a full sentence.

“Let go, love,” you heard him from the corner of the room. The way his voice strained told you that he was stroking his cock as he listened to you begging for release. Begging him despite another man being the one to drive you to orgasm.

Price grabbed you by the chin, angling it upwards and pressing his lips to yours, stifling your cries of pleasure as you came undone. As if he could keep your release all to himself like this, swallowing it down so Ghost couldn’t have it.

Ghost watched intently as Price took control of the situation, his body tense with anticipation for what was about to happen. He could feel his own climax building inside him, mirroring your pleasure as he listened to your cries of ecstasy being muffled by the other man’s kiss.

As Price continued to milk your orgasm, he leaned down and whispered into your ear, this time low enough that Ghost couldn’t hear, “You were never quite this pretty all the times I’ve imagined you coming.” 

He pulled away slowly, leaving you panting and covered in sweat. His eyes met Ghost’s once more before he finally released you from his grasp. You sat at the edge of the bed, legs trembling as you tried to catch your breath. He pulled your panties off, eyes glued to your glistening cunt.

“Lie back for me, sweetheart,” John ordered as he moved for his zipper, desperate to free his throbbing cock. You did as he said, gaze locked on his crotch as he tugged down his pants and boxers. 

As his cock sprang free, you hated the way you instantly noticed it wasn’t as big as Ghost’s. It wasn’t small by any means, maybe even a bit longer, but not as thick. You had gotten so used to feeling stuffed full by Ghost that now a part of you was anxious to have another man for the first time in years. What if you were spoiled? What if your husband had ruined you for all other cocks?

You glanced in his direction, noting the small smirk tugging at his lips and you knew he was aware of exactly what was on your mind. Smug bastard, you thought to yourself before returning your attention to Price, opening your legs wider for him.

Ghost’s expression remained impassive as he watched Price line himself up and penetrate you. His hand twitched unconsciously, the urge to reach out and claim what was rightfully his burning within him. But he held back, remaining silent and still, his hand freezing on his cock.

You moaned as Price buried himself to the hilt, having quickly forgotten any anxiety you were feeling a moment before. He let you adjust to his length before pulling out completely and slamming his hips forward, causing you to yelp. Ghost began pumping himself again as he saw how rough his friend was with you, how well you were taking him. 

“Fuck,” he hissed as he pounded into you. “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

His arms fell to either side of your head as he leaned in to nibble at your neck. From this angle his gut pushed into your stomach - the only distinction between the sensation of his and your husband’s was John’s more pronounced happy trail. 

He reached down between the two of you and began roughly rubbing at your sensitive clit again. His tempo didn't falter and he was hitting your g-spot with each stroke, white-hot pleasure clouding your mind and turning you into a mumbling mess beneath him.

“Yeah? Like that?” Price cooed at you and your toes curled. He kept up his pace, relentlessly pummeling you.

“Yes. God, yes,” you whined. The sounds of skin on skin and moaning filled the room from all three of you now. 

Your walls contracted around Price and your back arched, pressing your bodies flush together as you surrendered yourself to him completely.

“Come for me,” he encouraged with a hint of ownership. Not of you, but of this orgasm. The last one may have been for Ghost, but this one would be for him. 

He thrust into you more deliberately now, bottoming out each time. You let out a strangled moan as you climaxed again. Ghost came with you, spurting into his hand as he squeezed his cock tightly, his own sounds of pleasure drowned out by yours.

You whimpered as John suddenly pulled out of you and moved to stand at the edge of the bed. “C’mere,” he croaked, quickly sitting you up and bringing your head down towards his cock.

“You didn’t think I’d let anyone else finish inside that pretty little pussy of yours, did you?” Ghost murmured from the corner, voice hoarse as he was spent from his own release.

You shifted your gaze to Simon before parting your lips for Price. “Mm, see how you taste on another man’s cock?” He taunted as you wrapped your mouth around the head.

Though your eyes stayed glued to Ghost’s, you attempted a nod in response. Tears pricked your eyes as you slowly took more of his shaft into your mouth. 

“Simon says you’re good with your mouth. I intend to take full advantage of that,” he said, grunting as he pushed himself deep into your throat, your eyes returning to him.

As you moaned around his cock he smirked down at you. "Oh, you like it rough, do you?" He quickly lost control, hips meeting your face as he thrust in rhythm with your mouth.

You had mixture of saliva and pre-cum running down your chin now, mascara staining your cheeks. Ghost had you in a similar state countless times before while fucking your face, but seeing you like this wrapped around someone else's cock was turning him on in an entirely new way.

In an attempt to prolong his release, Price tangled his fingers into your hair, holding you in place at the base of his cock. When you gagged he loosened his grip, allowing you to back off a bit before you started bobbing your head on his length again. "That feels incredible," he said, admiring the way you milked his cock.

His balls were already tight, and you pushed him over the edge once you began to caress them with feather-light touches. He threw his head back with a low groan, frame tensing as he shot thick ropes of cum down your throat. His hips jerked forward as you hollowed out your cheeks. You swallowed most of his spend and pulled off of his cock with a satisfied moan.

He brushed the hair away from your face, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. His thumb trailed over your bottom lip, collecting the bit of cum that had dribbled out. He held it there for you, waiting for you to clean it off. You took it into your mouth, taking your time cleaning him, savoring the taste as you swirling your tongue around his finger. He pulled it out with a loud pop once he caught his breath.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, referring to your performance just as much as your disheveled appearance.

“That she is,” Ghost said, rising from his seat, looking at you with a predatory gaze. He tucked his still semi-hard cock into his pants and your stomach tightened at the sight.

Price zipped himself up as well and turned to Ghost. You were surprised he wouldn’t be staying, but it was clear the two men had discussed all the details beforehand. 

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t want anyone here for the depraved things I’m gonna do to you,” Ghost threatened in a low tone that had you clenching around nothing. Price let out a hearty laugh before turning back to you.

“Thank you for being so good for me,” he murmured and cupped your face in his hands. When Ghost cleared his throat behind him, he corrected himself with a sheepish grin. “Good for us.”

He gave you a genuine smile and a soft kiss on the forehead before leaving for the front door with Ghost. They exchanged goodbyes and the last you heard from Price as you walked to the doorway was, “Don’t be a stranger now, Simon.”

Shortly after you heard the door swing shut your husband was on you. “Alright, back to bed with you,” Simon grinned, smacking your ass playfully. You giggled, walking backwards, eyes never leaving him as he stripped. 

“You’re mine,” he reminded you with a growl before his lips crashed into yours, the two of you falling onto the bed.

[lowaltitude]

Dial Tone 2 | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 PART ONE HERE. 3.6k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I could barely contain my excitement as I sat in the bustling airport with my classmates, waiting for our flight to New York. My leg bounced with nervous energy, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I had been looking forward to this day for weeks, but now that it was finally here, the anticipation was almost too much to handle.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” my friend Lauren teased, nudging me with her elbow as she sipped on her overpriced airport coffee.

“I can’t help it,” I said, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going to New York!”

“Yeah, but you look like you’ve just won the lottery or something,” she laughed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s got you so giddy?”

I bit my lip, trying to tone down my excitement. I couldn’t exactly tell her about Manhattan, about how I was going to surprise him by being in his city. The thought alone made me feel like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush.

“I guess I’m just excited to finally see the city,” I said, half-truthfully. “I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Well, it’s going to be amazing,” Lauren agreed, leaning back in her seat. “I can’t wait to explore. Have you got any plans for when we’re not at the conference?”

“Not really,” I lied. “I figured I’d just wander around, see where the city takes me.”

In reality, I had been meticulously planning out my free time, making sure I’d have the chance to visit some of the places Manhattan had mentioned in our conversations. Central Park, the Brooklyn Bridge, and maybe even that bagel place he’d raved about. But I wasn’t going to tell Lauren all of that. Not yet.

As we waited to board, my phone buzzed with a message from Manhattan. I glanced at the screen, my heart doing a little flip as I saw his name pop up.

Wednesday, May 29, 2024Today, 10:17 AM MANHATTAN: What are you up to today, San Diego?

I couldn’t help but smile as I typed out my response, the excitement of the trip making it hard to keep the secret.

ME: Just hanging out, nothing too crazy. How about you? :) MANHATTAN: Same here, just getting ready for another big game. A little exciting. What’s got you in such a good mood today?

He knew me too well. I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to drop a hint or keep the surprise going.

ME: Let’s just say I’ve got something fun planned. I’ll tell you all about it later. MANHATTAN: You’re killing me with suspense here, San Diego. Now I’m curious.

I chuckled, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as I imagined his reaction when I finally told him—or when I maybe even bumped into him in his own city.

ME: Patience, Manhattan. You’ll find out soon enough. MANHATTAN: I guess I don’t have a choice. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.

I tucked my phone back into my bag, my smile refusing to fade. This trip was going to be unforgettable, and not just because of the conference. I could hardly wait to step off the plane and onto New York soil, knowing that Manhattan had no idea what was coming.

“Alright, they’re boarding our flight,” Lauren said, standing up and grabbing her bag. “You ready?”

“More than ready,” I said, grabbing my own bag and following her to the gate, my heart racing with anticipation. New York, here I come.

As the plane descended into New York, my excitement was at an all-time high. I couldn’t wait to explore the city, but more than that, I couldn’t wait to surprise Manhattan. The plan was simple: I’d head to his college, catch one of his hockey games, and finally meet him in person. I could already picture the look on his face when he saw me there.

After dropping my bags off at the hotel and freshening up, I decided to send him a quick message. I needed to get some information without giving away my plan.

ME: Hey, how’s hockey going? My friend is heading to New York soon, and I was thinking maybe she could grab me a hoodie from your college. ME: Which college do you go to again?

I stared at my phone, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as I watched the typing bubble appear. I wondered if he’d catch on to what I was trying to do, but he probably thought I was just being curious.

The typing bubble kept appearing and disappearing, and I felt my anticipation build. What was taking him so long?

Finally, his message came through.

MANHATTAN: Long Island University. Let’s go Sharks! 🦈

I smiled to myself, mentally filing away the information. LIU. Perfect. Now I just needed to find out when their next game was and how to get there. The idea of seeing him in action, playing the sport he was so passionate about, made me even more excited.

ME: Cool! I’ll definitely ask her to grab me one. LIU sounds like a great school. MANHATTAN: It is. I’m really enjoying it here. Hockey’s been great too.

I leaned back in my seat, feeling a rush of excitement. Everything was falling into place. In just a few days, I’d be at LIU, watching him play, and he had no idea what was coming.

ME: Glad to hear it! Maybe one day I’ll get to see you play in person. MANHATTAN: I’d like that. But for now, you’ll just have to settle for the hoodie 😉

I laughed, feeling a surge of anticipation. He had no idea that “one day” was much sooner than he thought.

ME: I guess I will. But who knows what the future holds? MANHATTAN: True. The future’s full of surprises.

I couldn’t agree more. Little did he know, the biggest surprise was about to come his way. I tucked my phone away, feeling more determined than ever. Tomorrow, I’d make my way to LIU, ready to see Manhattan in his element. This trip was turning out to be more thrilling than I’d ever imagined.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I woke up early, my heart racing with anticipation. Today was the day I’d finally see Manhattan play hockey. After a quick breakfast with my classmates, I made up an excuse about needing some time alone to explore the city. They didn’t ask too many questions, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure how I’d explain that I was sneaking off to surprise a guy I’d never actually met in person.

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I set off toward Long Island University. The city buzzed with energy as I navigated the subway system, and I could hardly keep still as I imagined what the game would be like. What would he look like on the ice? Would I recognize him immediately?

When I finally arrived at LIU’s campus, I felt a rush of excitement. The rink was larger than I expected, and the atmosphere was alive with the buzz of college sports. I spotted a few people in Sharks gear and made a mental note to grab a hoodie later—something to remember this day by.

Just as I was about to head inside, my phone buzzed with a message from Manhattan.

Thursday, May 30, 2024Today, 9:00 AM MANHATTAN: What are you up to today?

I hesitated for a moment, torn between keeping the surprise and telling him something closer to the truth.

ME: Just wandering around, checking out some new places. You? MANHATTAN: Nothing too exciting, just got some practice. Gotta stay sharp for the game tomorrow.

My heart skipped a beat. If he was heading to practice, that meant he’d be at the rink soon. I grinned, feeling like everything was falling perfectly into place.

ME: Busy day for you then. Good luck with practice!

I tucked my phone away and stepped into the rink. The cool air hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the warm, bustling city outside. I found a seat near the middle, close enough to see the action but far enough to stay somewhat hidden. The rink was buzzing with the energy of casual practice, but I didn’t see anyone who looked like Manhattan.

Confused, I glanced at my phone again, but decided to focus on enjoying the moment. Maybe everything would still work out.

As the few players on the ice began to pack up, I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. With a mix of nerves and excitement, I made my way down to the edge of the rink where the three boys were gathering their gear. They looked friendly enough, chatting and laughing as they peeled off their jerseys.

"Hi there," I greeted them tentatively, hoping not to intrude.

"Hey," one of them replied with a smile, while another gave a nod in acknowledgment.

Feeling a bit bolder, I held up the picture of Manhattan that I had saved on my phone. "Do you guys happen to know him?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

The boy closest to me glanced at the picture and furrowed his brow. "Is this a test, or a bad joke?" he replied, a hint of confusion in his voice.

I blinked, taken aback by his reaction. "No, not at all," I said quickly. "He's a hockey player, right?"

The boy let out a chuckle, exchanging a glance with his teammate who rolled his eyes. "Yeah, he's a hockey player," he replied, his tone slightly mocking. With that, he skated off towards the locker rooms, his friend following close behind.

Left standing there, I turned to the last boy who was gathering his equipment. "Do you know where I can find him?" I asked, my voice tinged with disappointment.

He shrugged apologetically. "I don't know, maybe try MSG or something," he suggested, referring to Madison Square Garden. With that, he picked up his stick and followed his teammates off the ice, leaving me feeling confused and unsure of what to do next.

I stared after them for a moment, my heart sinking. Maybe this was a mistake after all.

Feeling disheartened and unsure of what had just transpired at the rink, I made my way back to the hotel. My mind was still spinning with confusion and disappointment over not finding any trace of Manhattan. As I walked through the lobby, Lauren immediately noticed something was off.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

I forced a smile, trying to brush off my disappointment. "Nothing, just tired," I replied vaguely.

To cheer me up, she leaned in conspiratorially. "Hey, you like hockey, right? There's some playoffs happening tomorrow, and apparently they're really shitty seats, but Professor Tenner says we can all go since it's included in the expo."

Her attempt to lift my spirits caught my attention. Playoffs sounded exciting, and even though I was still reeling from the day's events, the prospect of attending a hockey game in New York City was enticing, even if it wasn't one of Manhattan's games like I'd hoped.

"Really?" I perked up, feeling a glimmer of excitement return. "That sounds like fun. I could use a distraction."

She nodded eagerly. "Exactly! We'll forget about everything and just enjoy the game."

I nodded in agreement, grateful for her effort to turn things around. Perhaps the disappointment of today would fade with the thrill of tomorrow's game.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

As we rode the subway towards Madison Square Garden, the excitement of the upcoming hockey playoffs managed to distract me momentarily from the strange encounter at LIU's rink earlier. The subway car was filled with fans dressed in jerseys, hats, and scarves, all buzzing with anticipation for the game. It was contagious, and I couldn't help but smile as I saw the neon signs outside the arena proclaiming, "NEW YORK RANGERS VS FLORIDA PANTHERS, 2-2 TIED SERIES."

Glancing at my phone, I noticed several unread messages from Manhattan. They started off flirty, but the last few were increasingly concerned:

Friday, May 31, 2024Today, 7:00 PM MANHATTAN: Made my sister take this so you can see how hard it is being so tall and attractive

MANHATTAN: Hey, haven't heard from you all day. Everything okay? ❤️ MANHATTAN: Did something happen? You're acting weird. MANHATTAN: Seriously, just let me know you're okay. MANHATTAN: San Diego??? MANHATTAN: I'm starting to get worried now. Please, just tell me what's going on.

Each message tugged at my conscience, but right now, with the game looming ahead and the vibrant energy of the city around me, I couldn't bring myself to reply. Turning off my phone, I focused on the lively scene outside as we emerged from the subway. Madison Square Garden towered above us, its exterior adorned with banners and flags of the Rangers. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the chatter of excited fans and vendors selling snacks and memorabilia.

My friend nudged me excitedly. "This is going to be awesome," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

I nodded, a surge of anticipation building within me. Stepping into the bustling concourse of the arena, I marveled at the sea of blue and red jerseys, each person radiating their team pride. It was infectious, and I found myself caught up in the excitement of being part of such a passionate crowd.

Finding our seats, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not responding to Manhattan's messages. I promised myself I would explain everything later, after the game. Right now, I needed to immerse myself in the thrill of playoff hockey and enjoy this unforgettable experience in the heart of New York City.

Just before the game began, one last text came in from Manhattan. The notification popped up on my screen, and I couldn't ignore it any longer:

MANHATTAN: Starting to think I messed things up. Please talk to me. I have to go, but PLEASE tell me you're okay.

The urgency in his message was palpable, and it weighed heavily on my mind. I knew I owed him an explanation, but right now, surrounded by the anticipation of the playoff game at Madison Square Garden, I couldn't find the words to reply.

My friend noticed my troubled expression and gently asked, "Everything okay?"

I hesitated for a moment, torn between the excitement of the moment and the guilt of leaving Manhattan hanging. "Yeah, just some stuff going on," I replied vaguely, hoping she wouldn't press further.

She nodded understandingly, sensing my reluctance to talk about it. "Well, let's focus on the game. It's going to be amazing!"

I managed a small smile, grateful for her distraction. As the national anthem played and the teams took the ice, the crowd erupted into cheers. The energy of the arena was infectious, and I found myself swept up in the excitement despite my lingering worries about Manhattan.

As the players came out and the game began, the atmosphere inside Madison Square Garden was electric. The puck dropped, and the game progressed smoothly until midway through the second period. Number 73, newly on the ice, was skating hard when suddenly, number 91 from the opposing team delivered a hard hit. The crowd erupted into shouts and boos as the large screen replayed the hit, the referees finally calling a penalty.

In the midst of the chaos, the camera panned back to the live action, focusing on New York Rangers' number 73 as he removed his helmet. And there he was—Manhattan.

My heart skipped a beat as I watched him on the screen, his presence confirming that the mystery friend who had been texting me was indeed using a picture of Matt Rempe. Confusion and disbelief flooded my mind. Had I been lied to this whole time? Was this some elaborate prank or misunderstanding?

As Manhattan skated off the ice, I felt a mix of emotions—surprise, disappointment, and a tinge of betrayal. The crowd's cheers and the game's intensity became distant background noise as I tried to process everything. The realization that Manhattan was real and here, playing hockey in front of me, collided with the unsettling feeling that someone had deceived me.

I glanced at my friend beside me, who was still cheering enthusiastically for the Rangers. She turned to me with a bright smile. "This is amazing, right?"

"Yeah," I managed to reply, forcing a smile while my mind raced with unanswered questions.

As the game continued, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Manhattan on the ice. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, one thing was clear—there was much more to this story than I had ever imagined.

On the way out of the game, the crowd slowly dispersing around us, I couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and confusion. I pulled out my phone and hesitated for a moment before typing out a message to Manhattan.

ME: So, was this all just a joke? Using someone else's photos to pretend to be someone you're not?

The message hung in the air, my thumb hovering over the send button. I felt a mix of anger and hurt, wanting desperately for there to be some explanation that would make sense of everything. But as the seconds ticked by, doubts crept in. What if I had been naive to believe in this connection all along?

My friend glanced over at me, sensing my unease. "You okay?" she asked gently.

I forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside. "Yeah, just… something came up," I replied vaguely, my voice betraying my uncertainty.

Finally, I pressed send, the message disappearing into the digital abyss. As we made our way through the bustling streets of New York City, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that the person I thought I knew as Manhattan might not be who he claimed to be after all.

The crowd outside Madison Square Garden buzzed with post-game energy, but my focus was solely on my phone, waiting for Manhattan’s reply. The seconds dragged on before my screen lit up with his response.

MANHATTAN: What? A joke? What are you talking about?

I clenched my jaw, frustrated by his confusion. How could he not understand?

ME: I saw you. Or, I guess I saw the real you. You’ve been sending me photos of a hockey player this whole time, pretending it was you. Matt Rempe. Ring a bell?

I hit send, my emotions swirling between hurt and anger. Was this his way of getting a laugh? Why string me along like this?

His response came quickly this time.

MANHATTAN: Wait, what? I didn’t lie to you, I swear. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.

I scoffed at my phone. Was he really going to keep this act up?

ME: You sent me his photo. Matt Rempe. Number 73 for the Rangers. I saw him on the ice tonight.

My hands were shaking slightly as I typed, overwhelmed by everything. How could he keep denying it when I’d literally just seen Matt?

There was a longer pause before his next message.

MANHATTAN: I didn’t lie. I never pretended to be someone else. I’m really confused right now. How did you… how did you see me?

My breath caught. Why did he sound so genuine? My mind scrambled to piece it together. How could he not know that I’d seen the very guy whose pictures he’d been sending? It didn’t make sense.

I typed again, my heart pounding.

ME: I saw him play. I was at the Rangers game tonight. You’ve been using his pictures this whole time, and now I feel like an idiot for believing you.

There was another long pause, and I could imagine him, wherever he was, sitting there trying to figure out what had just happened.

The longer I waited, the more the knot in my stomach tightened. Finally, my phone buzzed again with his reply.

MANHATTAN: I’m so confused. How did you end up at a Rangers game? I never sent you anyone else’s photos. I swear. I don’t even know what’s going on right now. ME: I came here for a school trip. I wanted to surprise you, so I went to what you told me was your University yesterday to see you play hockey. I thought it’d be this cute moment, but you weren’t there. Some guys at the rink acted weird when I asked about you, and I couldn’t figure it out. Then today, at the game, I saw Matt Rempe... The guy in the photos you’ve been sending me. MANHATTAN: Wait. You’re in New York? You went looking for me??? MANHATTAN: Okay, this is all a big misunderstanding, and I need you to believe me. I’m not lying. I am Matt Rempe. ME: No, you're not. Stop it. If this is your way of messing with me, just admit it. Why would you pretend to be someone like him? You think I wouldn’t find out? MANHATTAN: I’m not pretending. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I also didn’t want to throw all that stuff at you so fast. I’m sorry if it feels like I’ve been hiding things, but I wasn’t trying to trick you. I swear. ME: So what, you’re just Matt Rempe all of a sudden? I’m supposed to believe that you’re the guy I watched get slammed on the ice tonight? MANHATTAN: Yes. I wanted to tell you but we became friends and never stopped the little nickname thing, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.

I stared at the message, my head spinning. How could this be true? I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued... hehehe

[star-nett]

──⃝─⃝⃝⃝⃝─

˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦˚ . ★⋆.

☆ Prioritize and Learn your DR-self ☆

˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦˚ . ★⋆.

{Where focus goes, energy flows. Take what resonates, leave what does not 🖤}

- note: I use Harry Potter and the MCU realities as examples through this! A majority of us know basics of those places— it makes it easier for me to make examples in this b word.

Summary: Going over the importance of your DR-self and how to truly connect to yourself. Includes deep questions to think about <3

Key Terms: DR (Desired Reality), CR (Current Reality)

˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦˚ . ★⋆.

Nothing is more important than you <3

*I say with a smirk, twirling my hair.*

Focus on yourself/DR SELF more than ANYTHING ELSE!! I STAND ON THIS ONE!! TEN TOES DOWN RIGHT HERE. RIGHT NOWWWW.

Your DR Isn’t Your DR Without Who?? YOU!

This is your time to have main character syndrome—hell, you ARE the most important character in your story! Why focus on you? It’s way easier to connect with yourself than trying to visualize every detail of your DR. You know yourself better than anyone. Use that to your advantage! Raw dog yourself dude

But lemme clock something ‼️ Truly connecting to your DR self is a lot more than just reading over a script and answering brain-dead questions like "What's my name? My age?" Like wowww, we get it.. we know. Wowwwwww— Instead, the goal is to embody and align. To close the gap. To truly become your DR self through thought, emotion, and perspective.

Deep Dive: Exploring Your DR Self ☆

Traits:

What are your core personality traits in your DR?

Are you brave, compassionate, witty, analytical?

Example: If you’re brave, is it “I can kill a spider with a shoe” brave, or “I’ll face down a Death Eater/alien army” brave? How Brave are you really? Can people rely on your bravery?

Thoughts and Reactions:

How do you react in your DR? What Level do you operate at?

Example: You're making Amortentia (love potion) in class, everyone wants to know what it smells like. They are bothering you. Pestering you. How do you react? Are you Calmer in your DR? Hot-headed? Do you laugh it off?

Growth:

Who are you in your DR, and how have you grown?

What challenges have shaped you? How do you handle conflict differently in your DR?

Your DR Self is an Extension of You

If your DR self feels a lot like "you" (CR self) with subtle difference that fit the narrative of your DR, that's okay! Think of your DR self not as someone new, but as you in a different context. It’s still you—just shaped by the events, experiences, and circumstances of your DR. So for the sake of example, some Marvel context. {Focus on Emotional immersion, shifting isn't just about forcing yourself to think differently-- its about feeling differently. Immerse in the emotions of your DR life.}

Example time:

What does it feel like to walking into the Avengers compound and know you belong?

Feel the Pride after using abilities to save someone, or the adrenaline of a mission. Speaking of abilities, if you use magic.. Do your hands move like Wanda? Agatha?

How does being an Avenger or Hero challenge or inspire you? How does your comfort character help you grow? Or do they help show a new side of yourself?

˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦˚ . ★⋆.

Don’t Overthink—Seriously.

I know, i just told you not to overthink, and then dumped LIKE A BILLION THINGS to OVERTHINK about— BUT BABY WAIT— here’s the thing: you don’t have to focus on everything I mentioned.

All of these points are just different tastes—little prompts to help you connect with your DR self. You don’t need to answer every question or dive into every example. Even picking just one of these ideas can lead you down the right path. That’s the whole point.

The goal is to delve deep and feel your DR self. Get into their mindset, match their energy, and align with their frequency. One thought, one emotion, or one detail is enough to bridge that gap. Keep it simple, and let it flow naturally.

☆ I’ll Leave You With This ☆

If you were to sit down with your CR self (my worst nightmare), you could probably talk for hours about the things that make you, you. Maybe you eat yogurt with forks (I do), your favorite color is pink, you can’t stand loud noises, you’re afraid of the ocean, or you secretly love pop music but hate certain smells. And let’s be real—your quirks, your traumas, your little joys? Those are what make you human.

You’re doing the exact same thing with your DR self. You’re getting to know their quirks, fears, loves, and unique traits. Because at the end of the day, you’re not just creating some untouchable fantasy version of yourself—you’re real. Your DR self is real. They’ve had real experiences, just like you’ve had in your CR.

So, when you’re exploring who they are, think about their humanly unique quirks. What makes them smile? What challenges them? What weird little habits or traits do they have that make them you?

You’re not creating a stranger or a perfect ideal. You’re reconnecting with a version of yourself who’s already out there living in the DR. They’re not some far-off, unreachable dream. They’re you.

Ho did you just focus on yourself? Yk what? Hell yeah

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦˚ . ★⋆.

{Another post down!! I hope this was somewhat helpful?? I struggle to organize my thoughts sometimes! I’m all over the place when I write 😭}

Next post teaser: Making shifting easier to understand 🫶🏻

[soulofapatrick]

The Beauty and the Brawn - Emmett Cullen x Reader

Summary: You try to prove to Emmett that he won’t hurt you with his enhanced strengths

Words: 2k

Warnings: Oral (F!recieving) 

Notes: idk what this is really, just had the idea for a few days 

Y/N’s POV

Emmett is strong, stronger than most vampires having gotten enhanced strength when he was changed. He’s always seen it as an added perk as it’s not something drastic like Alice’s future telling or Benjamin’s elemental manipulations, it was just that he was a little stronger than the others. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Then he met me and now, as much as I tell him otherwise, he sees his strength as a curse. He gets scared he’ll get too carried away with me, forget I’m still human and accidentally hurt me or kill me. As much as I reassure Emmett that he could never hurt me he will still try and avoid the topic, kissing me the most he trust himself to do. Every time we get hot and heavy and I guide things on a little he backs up with that pained look in his eyes. Everything about him screams that he wants me back but the pain in his eyes tells me he’s scared which always catches me off guard as this is Emmett Cullen. Outgoing, loud and loving Emmett… too scared to even touch me at times despite how much his feelings were mutual. 

Today is no different and I decide to take a different approach, even if it doesn’t mean sex. I just want Emmett to see that he can trust himself with me and that I’m not as fragile as he thinks. We’re sat on his bed, a bed he got Carlisle to get without specifying why. The Cullen’s don’t know me yet except maybe Alice and Edward because of their gifts but they apparently haven’t said anything to the others. Emmett doesn’t want them to all bombard me and he’s also worried about how Rosalie will take it that he’s moved on already which I understand and I agreed to take it as slow as he wants with meeting them.

Emmett’s hand is on my thighs as we sit shoulder to shoulder, watching a movie on the TV he also had installed. I’m barely paying attention to it though, focusing on his icy touch on my bare skin, being in only shorts as it’s just us here for another day to two. Emmett said the others had gone on a hunting trip and he elected to say home. I say fuck it, it’s now or never so I’m turning my body to face him, reaching over to cup his cheek and I ask, “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course I do, why-“ He’s frowning until I begin shifting, moving onto my knees and turning my body towards him, “Y/N, I-“

“Just trust me baby,” I stroke his cheek reassuringly, watching him lean into my palm and those beautiful golden eyes flutter shut for a moment. With Emmett’s eyes still closed I shift my body further until I’m straddling him, legs either side of his thick thighs. His muscles tense as he realises I’m seated, arms resisting ever so slightly when I guide his hands to my hips, holding them there to show him that he won’t hurt me. The heat seems to rise between us as I lean in, lips almost touching his as I whisper, “Emmett, I trust you. I trust you with everything.” 

His eyes fly open at this, the confusion and fear in them until he sees I’m not lying to him, keeping my face open and honestly so he can see the trust and love and it works as his expression softens, “Y/N.” He’s whispering, voice filled with emotions that I can’t quite decipher so I just lean forwards again and capture his lips in a gentle and pliant kiss. The kiss is tender and slow, as if we’re exploring each other for the first time. My heart is racing as I feel the softness of his lips against mine, the taste of him sweet and familiar, the tension in Emmett’s body slowly melting away as he gets lost in the kiss so I take another risk and deep it. Emmett’s hands are moving up and down my sides and back, testing the waters cautiously and the feel of his hands on my skin sends shivers down my spine, knowing I want more. 

Too soon am I having to break the kiss as unlike Emmett I still need to consume oxygen. His golden eyes have darkened a little with love and desire, a soft sound leaving him when I caress his cheek gently, “Emmett,” My voice is a barely above a whisper, as if scared to break the moment, “I need you. Need all of you.” 

Emmett’s eyes widen in surprise at the bluntness of my words, looking at me intently as if trying to decipher if I’m really serious about what I said. I can see the mixture of emotions playing across his face - desire; love; fear and protectiveness. I stay seated in his lap as I wait for his response, letting him work through his emotions and letting him decide. He wants me but he’s afraid of hurting me, his hands retreating again so I catch them in mine and squeeze reassuringly. His eyes flick down to our interlocked hands before back to my face before he’s swallowing and mumbling out, “Start with a shower first?” 

“Whatever you want Pretty Boy.” I’m nodding, guiding one of his large hands to my cheek and pressing a kiss to his open palm before he’s surprising me and drawing me into another kiss. This one’s different, he’s not holding back as much, it’s hungrier almost. There’s an urgency to the kiss, his lips moving with more purpose as his moves to the back of my head, deepening the kiss. His other hand finds it’s way back to my waist, pulling me flush against him. It’s like he’s been holding back for so long and how he’s finally allowing himself to let go and now he can’t seem to get enough. I respond with equal fervour, my hands tangling in his hair as we explore each other’s mouths. 

Emmett’s breaking the kiss before me, standing up effortlessly and cradling me in his arms as if I weight nothing which I guess I really don’t for him. I’m wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, holding on tight as he carries me to the bathroom, feeling his muscles tense and flex under his shirt with each step. He’s setting me on the counter, a playful smile on his face and a rumble in his chest when I squeal at how cold the counter is. He’s stealing another kiss from me before moving to turn on the shower, letting it heat up and moving back over to me, standing between my legs. He’s looking at me with a soft expression, making sure this is what I really want, his hands running over my waist and pulling back slightly to ask, “You sure about this, honey?” His eyes are filled with concern and love, making me feel even more secure in my decision. 

To prove my point I pull my shirt over my head and letting it fall to the floor, watching Emmett’s lips part slightly in a hitched breath at the sight of me now bare except for a pair of shorts. Emmett’s eyes are skimming over my body, taking in every dip and curve and scar on display to him. His hands coming up to gently trace along my arms and down my sides, as if savouring the feeling of my skin against his fingertips. Despite his obvious desire he still checks with me if this is okay, eyes flicking back up to mine every few seconds until I’m guiding his hands up to my breasts, watching his reaction. He surprises me by dragging me into such a tender and loving kiss as he explores this new territory. 

Our bodies press together, Emmett’s hands now tracing circles on my back as he deepens the kiss, his very obvious arousal pressing into my thigh but he’s taking it slow as if he’ll spook me. His lips move down my neck as he murmurs against the skin, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His large hands grip my hips and I’m soon standing again, feeling cold fingers dip into the waistband of my shorts. 

“Please.” I’m practically begging and Emmett’s groaning into the crook of my neck, surprising me again as he sinks to his knees as he slides the shorts down my legs, throwing them aside before his gaze finds mine and I’m having to bite my lip at the sight of Emmett on his knees for me. His strong hands grip my hips as he begins nosing at my thighs, lips ghosting over them and teeth grazing until he’s nudging my legs apart enough blow cold air over my slickness, making me gasp and squirm. Before I can say or do anything those skilled lips are kissing my folds, nose bumping my clit before he licks a confident stripe up, gauging my reaction. His tongue flutters against my clit before he’s eating me like a starved man, hands gripping my hips tight enough that I can’t wriggle away from the pleasure. 

My hand is gripping his hair, the other bracing myself against the counter as he moans, sending vibrations through that oversensitive bundle of nerves. He’s dipping his tongue in and out of my core with precision and sloppiness before he moves back to my clit, my body trying to jerk away but his grip is tight enough to promise bruises and fuck that just makes everything more intense. All too soon I can feel myself starting to pulse around his tongue that hasn’t stopped fucking into me and my hands tugs almost painfully at his hair while my head falls back with a whine, my thighs trying to clamp around Emmett’s head as my vision partially whites out and all I hear is white noise, unsure if I’m crying out Emmett’s name. 

“Emm, fuck Emmett, too much.” I’m begging and he finally pulls back, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and he looks fucking dirty, his mouth and chin shiny with my juices and his golden eyes have darkened even more. His thumbs caress my hips as he pulls himself to his feet moving to kiss me with a cheeky grin when I lightly push his face away saying, “No, clean your face first.” 

“I do believe a shower was suggested.” He agrees and I’m nodding, tugging at his shirt to which he complies, pulling it over his head and I can’t help wet my lips at how good he looks. Sure, I’ve seen Emmett change but this is different, he’s baring himself for me and me alone. His shirt reveals his chiseled abs and braid chest, my eyes roaming over his muscular physique with appreciation. His defined biceps and broad shoulders are evidence of the immense physical strength he possesses and the way his tone torso tapers down to his waist makes me want to run my hands over his hard body. As he undresses further, my gaze is drawn to his thick thighs, my heart racing against as he’s straining against his boxers and fuck, he is in no way small. The boxers barely able to contain him, the angry red head slipped past the waistband, precum wetting his v-line a little, “Come on lovely, eyes up here.” 

I tear my eyes away from his enticing bulge, feeling heat rising to my cheeks at being caught. But I can't help the desire that courses through me as I watch him step out of his boxers, completely naked before me. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel the anticipation building between us as we move towards the shower. As we step under the warm water, Emmett pulls me close, his hands roaming over my wet skin as we continue to explore each other's bodies. I know this is only the beginning, and I can't wait to see what other surprises Emmett has in store for me.

-----------

Twilight Masterlist

[gotham--fc]

Désolée - A Marie-Philip Poulin and Laura Stacey Imagine

Part two of my previous Pou and Stacey fic which you can find here

Y/N comes to visit Pou and Stacey in Montreal and tempers flare

Y/N had never been so relieved for summer break.

She, like every teenager, counts the days until school is out, naturally, but this summer is different. From dealing with normal school stuff, to her hometown team who keep moving her up age groups and coaches not so subtly trying to poach her for their teams, to being in the national team rotation and suddenly being one of the most popular people in her town, she’s ready for a break.

Of course, hockey doesn’t stop, hockey never stops, but hockey takes a break. Or rather, she takes a break since she doesn’t have to attend tryouts and recruitment camps anymore. She feels bad, feels like she’s getting special treatment over some of the girls who have been on the team longer than her, but there’s nothing she can do about it. And she has plans, so there’s that.

She steps off the plane in the Montreal airport, carry on dragging behind her. She didn’t want to check a bag, so she shoved everything into her carry on and now it feels heavier than anything. She finds her way through the airport and out past security. She pauses for a moment, looking around at all the people gathered there, trying to find a familiar face. Her eyes land on a brightly coloured sign with “Mon Petite Lapinou” written on it. She shakes her head fondly, a blush rising on her cheeks and a warmth filling her chest.

“Salut!” Pou wraps her up in a big hug and rocks her side to side. “How are you? Was the flight okay? How did your exams go?”

“Marie, please, let the girl breathe,” Laura says. Pou lets go and Y/N hugs Laura. “She was a little too excited for your visit,” Laura whispers to Y/N.

“Have you ever been to Montreal?” Pou asks as they walk to the car. Pou took Y/N’s carry on from her as soon as they started walking and carries it easily.

“No, I mean, I’ve been to Quebec for tournaments and stuff but I never had any in Montreal. We were mostly in Gatineau and Sherbrooke.”

“You’ll love it, it’s a beautiful city,” Pou says, “Maybe you’ll love it so much you’ll want to come here after you graduate college.”

“Marie,” Laura scolds, “She’s not even done high school.”

“Okay okay,” Pou says, “But I’ll still make you like Montreal more than Boston. I don’t want you playing for my rival team in a few years.”

Y/N smiles at that. She has no doubt that Pou will convince her Montreal is a better city than Boston, but she has no idea what the future will hold. She doesn’t even know if she’ll do well in college, let alone get drafted and actually make a team in the PWHL.

“Are you hungry?” Laura places her hand on Y/N’s shoulder as Pou puts her bag in the trunk of the car. “We can stop somewhere for food on the way back if you want.”

“I’m alright,” Y/N says, subconsciously leaning into Laura’s touch. “I think I’m just tired.”

“Alright,” Laura says, “Let us know if you change your mind, okay?” Y/N nods.

They all pile in the car, Laura in the front seat while Pou drives and Y/N in the back. Pou talks the whole time, telling Y/N all the things they’ll do while she’s here, pointing out landmarks and buildings and telling stories. Y/N does her best to listen, but the flight and the rocking of the car pulls her to sleep.

“Marie,” Laura says quietly, “Look.”

Marie glances in the rearview mirror and sees Y/N asleep. She smiles fondly at her.

“It’s hard to believe she’ll be going to college in a year, she looks so young,” Marie says.

“Don’t say that when she’s awake,” Laura says, “She might kill you.”

***

Y/N really likes being with Pou and Laura. It’s fun, exploring Montreal, and getting to see the two of them outside of the camp environment. It’s not like they hide their relationship, since everyone knows about them, but they still keep things professional during camps. It’s fun seeing them without the pressure of camp and performing.

Pou wakes up every day at 5am to walk Arlo. They return at 6am and make the most noise possible and Y/N smiles as she hears Laura yell for them to keep it down and then the clamber of footsteps as Pou and Arlo run up the stairs and jump in bed with Laura. Y/N then usually pulls her pillow over her head and goes back to sleep until 8am.

Pou and Laura love going to farmers markets and Y/N tags along as Pou speaks in rapid fire French to all the vendors. Y/N tries to keep up, but her grade nine French isn’t enough.

“You’ll pick it up the longer you’re here,” Laura tells her, “If you even end up in Montreal. You won’t need much French in Boston, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Y/N says.

She doesn’t know how to explain the pit in her chest that opens every time one of them mentions Boston, or where she’s going to end up once she graduates. She knows she has to think about it, she’s going to Boston in a year, she can’t avoid it, but she just wishes everyone would let her spend the summer just being a regular teenager on summer vacation.

“I’ll have to send you a list of restaurants to try when you’re in Boston,” Pou says that night when they’re having dinner. “And me and Laura can come visit you and–”

“Can’t you spend one day not talking about Boston?” Y/N snaps, “I might not even go to Boston! And I might not get drafted to Montreal in five years if I even get drafted at all! I’m sorry that you only care about me because you think I’m your protégé or something but I’m not like you and I never will be!”

Y/N shoves her chair back and storms out of the room, frustrated tears in her eyes.

“Wh – Y/N! Come back here! Arrêt! Reviens à table!”

Y/N ignores her and slams the door of the guest bedroom.

***

Laura isn’t going to say she say this coming. She saw signs, the way Y/N got quiet and seemed to shrink whenever someone brought up college or the pros, the way Marie never seemed to notice. She won’t say she’s better at reading Y/N than Marie, or that Marie is unobservant, or anything like that. Laura only noticed because she’s been through this with Marie already.

Back when they first started dating, Laura wasn’t settled in her career. She still felt like an outsider, like a fringe player, and she spent years expecting the national team coaches to call her and tell her she didn’t make the team. Marie never understood that, because she never had to. Ever since her debut, she was a mainstay on the national team. She’s the captain, there was no question she would be on every team she was healthy enough to be on. She never dealt with the uncertainty.

Marie also never understood why Laura doubted herself. She never understood why Laura would plan for what happens when she gets cut. For Marie, Laura was a phenomenal player who made the team better, so why wouldn’t she be on every roster? For Laura, she was a good player in a sea of good players who all deserved a spot.

They had arguments, and times when they were both too stubborn and didn’t talk for days or weeks. There were times when Laura felt less than, and felt small standing next to the Marie-Philip Poulin. Of course, Marie never understood that either.

Things are better now, Laura is settled and confident in her skills. She doesn’t expect to get cut after every bad practice, and she doesn’t feel overshadowed by Marie. Yes, there’s still people who think she only got where she is because of Marie. People who think Montreal only signed her because they signed Marie first. But Laura knows what she brings to a team and she knows she deserves her spot. When Marie defends her, praises her, Laura doesn’t feel patronized. She knows Marie isn’t saying those things because she feels like she has to, or because she feels like she needs to appease Laura. Laura knows she says what she does because she loves Laura so much that she can’t stand to hear people criticizing her unfairly and she can’t stand people talking about her when they know nothing about her or her play.

Laura knows Marie sees a lot of herself in Y/N, but Laura thinks Y/N is a lot more like she is than Marie.

“Let her go,” Laura says, tugging Marie back down when Marie tries to storm after Y/N.

“But–”

“Give her space, you’re only going to yell at each other if you chase after her now.”

“She… She yelled at us! That’s… She’s… It was rude!”

“I know, love,” Laura gently rubs the space between Marie’s shoulder blades.

Laura knows it’s not the fact that Y/N yelled, it’s what she said that’s upsetting Marie.

“Let’s give her some time to calm down, and then I’ll go talk to her, see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

***

Y/N doesn’t emerge at all that night. Marie gets more and more sullen as the night goes on. Laura knows there’s nothing she can do when Marie is like this. They both can get in their heads and neither can let things go that easily, so Laura knows she just needs to let Marie sulk until she’s done sulking.

The next morning, Marie is still sulking. While Marie is out walking Arlo, Laura (even though she hates it normally) gets out of bed and prepares breakfast. She leaves two servings for herself and Marie and brings one serving up to Y/N’s room. She knocks lightly on the door.

“It’s just me, I’m leaving some breakfast here for you,” Laura says, “You can come down if you want, but you can stay in there for as long as you want.”

Y/N doesn’t come down, but Laura hears her open the door and take the plate. A little bit later, Marie comes home. Arlo gets halfway up the stairs before he realizes Laura is still downstairs. He leaps onto the couch and Laura laughs as he licks her face. Marie laughs too, but Laura can hear its strained.

“Is she still acting like a morveuse?” Marie says. Laura sighs.

“She is still upstairs, but she is not a brat,” Laura shushes Marie before she can start talking again, “She’s a 17-year-old girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. All you ever talk to her about is hockey or Boston, it’s no surprise she thinks that’s all you care about.”

“That’s not true!” Marie says, “I’m trying to help–”

“Marie, I love you, but sometimes your help doesn’t help,” Laura puts her arm around Marie’s shoulder and pulls her closer. “I know you think you’re helping prepare her for the future, and I love that about you, you know that.” Laura pauses. “Can you see that Y/N is stressed about college and her future in hockey and sometimes having that be all you talk about doesn’t help her be less stressed.”

“All I wanted when I was her age was for someone to tell me what to do,” Marie says quietly, her voice thick.

“I know, baby, I know.”

***

Later in the afternoon, Marie takes Arlo on another walk. Laura has told her not to spoil him during the offseason so he doesn’t expect this treatment all the time, but Marie doesn’t listen, and Laura doesn’t push it today. While Marie is out, Laura goes up to Y/N’s room.

“It’s just me,” Laura says after she knocks, “Marie isn’t home, can I come in?”

After a moment, Y/N answers quietly: “Okay.”

Y/N is laying on the bed. Laura sits beside her.

“How are you doing?” Laura asks. Y/N shrugs.

“Is she really mad at me?” Y/N whispers.

“She was,” Laura answers, “She’s not mad at you anymore. She was only trying to help and she didn’t mean to upset you. Look,” Laura sighs, “When she was your age, she was so scared. She had no idea what to expect. All she wanted was for someone to tell her what she was supposed to do and she assumed you would be the same way. She just wants to make things easier for you. She really does feel bad that she upset you so much.”

“I don’t feel like I deserve it all,” Y/N says, “Like, it’s different for her, or you. I’m not that good and I just… I don’t think I’ll make it.” Y/N rolls over so her back is to Laura. “I don’t want to lose you both when you realize I’m not as good as you think.”

“When I first started seeing Marie, I felt the same way,” Laura says. Y/N’s head jerks towards Laura and she looks up at Laura with a confused expression. “I stopped talking to her, actually, because I didn’t feel good enough compared to her. I thought it would easier to break it off than wait for her to do it later on.”

“What happened?”

“Marie is more stubborn than anyone I’ve ever met,” Laura smiles as she thinks about her fiancée. Y/N huffs out a laugh at Laura’s statement. “She wouldn’t let me go without a reason, so I told her. And she told me I was being an idiot and she was right. Marie loves hockey, but hockey is the last thing on her mind when it comes to the people she loves.”

“I chose BU because that’s where she went,” Y/N says quietly, “I just want her to be proud of me.”

“She is, she is so proud of you. We both are.”

***

Later, when Marie comes home, Y/N sits nervously on the couch. She and Laura practiced this whole speech that Y/N would say to explain how she was feeling and why she was feeling that way and Y/N was determined to say it. She was still running it over in her head when she hears Marie come in, when she hears Marie let Arlo off the leash, when she hears Marie greet Laura and walk towards the living room. Y/N takes a deep breath to center herself and stands. Marie pauses when she sees Y/N. Y/N opens her mouth to begin, but what comes out of her mouth is this:

“Mama.”

And then Y/N is crying and she throws herself into Marie’s arms. Marie freezes for a second, then she’s wrapping Y/N up in a tight hug.

“Oh, mon petite lapinou,” Marie says, “It’s alright, I got you, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Non, non,” Marie says firmly, “You have nothing to be sorry about, I am the one who needs to apologize. I’m sorry I pushed you and I’m sorry I upset you and I’m sorry you felt like I didn’t care.”

When Y/N finally stops crying, Marie pulls back and takes Y/N’s face in her hands.

“Are you okay now, mon petite lapinou?” Marie asks.

“Yeah,” Y/N wipes at her eyes, but Marie swats her hands away and wipes the tears away herself, much gentler than Y/N would’ve. Marie gives Y/N a kiss on the forehead.

“From now on, we won’t talk about hockey at all unless you bring it up first, okay?” Marie says.

“You don’t have to do that,” Y/N says, “It’s okay–”

“There are lots of things that we can talk about that aren’t hockey,” Marie says, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now that that’s over,” Laura says, “Can we go back to enjoying Y/N’s visit?”

Marie and Y/N look at each other, and Y/N can see the same idea pop up in Marie’s head. They grin at each other then both turn to Laura. Laura realizes a moment too late and Marie and Y/N grab her and pull her down on the couch. Laura shrieks as Marie and Y/N wrestle her down. Almost immediately Arlo jumps on them and Y/N laughs so hard her sides hurt as Arlo alternates between licking Laura and Marie’s faces.

As Y/N watches Laura and Marie and Arlo wrestle on the couch, she’s really happy she took this trip, and she’s really happy she chose to play hockey and that it’s brought her to this moment right here.

[utilitycaster]

So something you’ve mentioned in a previous ask about how some of the players have decided to play characters that are more go-with-the-flow or designed to specifically take a step back, and I’m curious if you think that the fact that those players (Travis, Marisha, Liam) taking on a sort of sideline role, has also sort of affected the party’s decisiveness and by extension of the campaign because of it? Not to say that they shouldn’t try that different kinds of characters because they should and they have the liberty to try it out for themselves, but with no one else to really step up, it leaves the party in kind of a mess.

From previous campaigns, Travis and Liam have always been hard drivers of decisions and direction, in part of the characters they play having clear goals or strong personalities in knowing what they want (Marisha I think this applies to more for c2 since it was something Keyleth had to grow into as a leader over the course of c1). In contrast, Laura and Ashley tend to be players who tends to be indecisive in the face of a decision because they don’t want to make the wrong one. This has been a through line since Laura as far back as c1 because I distinctly remember a Talks Machina episode where Laura talked about how for a moment she thought she made the “wrong” choice with Saundor, but then later on came to the conclusion that she made the “right” one.

With Laura and Ashley playing characters that are spotlighted so heavily in the plot of this campaign, this indecision weighs as heavily because they play characters are the hard drivers while the others (outside of Ashton) are reactive rather than proactive or for Oyrm’s case, specifically and deliberately by Orym’s own choice, more quiet snd sidelined. I think Travis has had Chetney to try and take center stage to push a couple times throughout the campaign, and I think Travis did it with Grog too in c1 when the party took too long to come to a conclusion and he would decide something to get the party moving, but there’s a lot of empty time and space on that stage in c3 where in previous campaigns someone would pretty consistently take that spotlight.

I think some players are generally more inclined than others to lead or be in the driver’s seat and some players who don’t want that position majority of the time, and that’s perfectly okay. It’s just a matter of experimenting with what works and what doesn’t, and I think for BH, it doesn’t. And I don’t think it should be a requirement from some players to play a specific role all the time, but I think it’s important to at least acknowledge it and comprise, allowing players to play to their stengths and cover others’ weaknesses to make the table and story flow and work

oh definitely. I think you said this well, and I think Keyleth actually did do a lot of pushing the plot in C1 specifically because she was in game terrified of doing the wrong thing and explored that. Keyleth was, even before they officially began dating, someone whose calls Vax trusted, and she in turn supported him, and that led to (for example) Vox Machina choosing not to ally with the Clasp (which a number of party members supported or were neutral towards) and going after Raishan immediately following Thordak, despite the risk. Keyleth was terrified of making the wrong decision, but crucially, she had a very clear idea of what she wanted to do - she just didn't always believe what she wanted was good, and that conflict is what tripped her up. She was extremely willing to go to the mat over such topics as, for example, pragmatic alliances with dubious people (Raishan); it's just that sometimes this resulted in her being overruled and having to put up with said alliance, and struggling with that.

I don't think it's bad to be a player who wants to go with the flow and explore personal relationships without being a major decision maker. I tend towards being a decisive player, but I do not think it's the only way to be. But this does become an issue when the DM assigns you the role of Decider, and it becomes more of an issue when other players, quite reasonably, had chosen to step back. And I will personally admit - I've repeatedly tried to play laid-back/chaotic characters in D&D and it simply fucking fails. I lack the patience to fuck around endlessly. This is also, frankly, why I don't personally dump intelligence: playing as a character who is not curious and constantly trying to learn about the world simply isn't fun for me. If I were at a table that was going through endless debates with zero progress or resolution like Bells Hells, I have to admit I'd have long since said "hey. Is this...fun for anyone? Because I hate it." and I do not presume to know what the CR Cast thinks of it, and I really believe that "it's our game" means "don't make that presumption" but I can say it's been pretty widely panned among viewers, and it is valid to say "you can do what makes you happy in your game but wow this sucks as a story." And so yes the fact that the people who usually cut that kind of discussion short have stepped back, and the people who are reluctant to cut that type of discussion short are the ones who ultimately must make the decisions is, undeniably, a factor here.

Honestly, I and others have called this the third character dip or similar things and I think it's fair to say that a lot of cast members are, or were, in this campaign, either playing to their weak spot or avoiding a party-carrying personal strength. Players like Liam, Travis, or Marisha (or, to give a few other well-known examples, Emily Axford, Aabria Iyengar, and Lou Wilson) are in my experience less common in the same way that DMs are less common than players. It's more work, more responsibility, and people are more likely to blame you if something goes wrong. And I get that it can feel like you are steamrolling quieter players, and I do think talk away from the game table is important to ensure you aren't, but much of the time, when I've talked to people, they've been like "no, I would like to play someone who is a huge dumbass who can go off and goof around [paraphrased, and I mean this affectionately; I am thinking specifically of my brother's sweet summer INT 8 half-orc monk-barbarian] and I appreciate that you are filling a role that I would not pesonally find fun" (I also specifically like playing healers/support and DON'T like playing burst damage).

I do want to note, and I did this elsewhere: this hesitancy is nowhere to be found when I've seen Ashley and Laura (and various other players who are at times less bold - Sam being an obvious example) play in shorter form works. Arlo Black is a standout in Candela; both Tris and Emhira were fantastic. This is part of why I think an extended short-form only break would be good after this campaign ends. I do think it is ultimately a flaw of the campaign for forcing Fearne and Imogen into these positions when I do not think it's what the players really wanted for the characters (again, speculative); but like, they are in those positions, and the time to have said something was a while ago. I mean if that's the theme - that it's unfair and unkind you shouldn't have to be the one who makes the choice - that's fine, but the thematically apt thing to do is to make the choice anyway, with intent.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 5

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: You wake after succumbing to the mating bond.

Word count: 5.1k

<<&lt; Part 4

Strands of hair tickled your cheeks, a warm, gentle breeze kissing your face as you groggily blinked awake. 

 A spring breeze. 

You jolted upright, urgently scanning around you. It was a lavash guest room, soft white sheets settled over your body, lush pillows piled to have cradled your head. You had no idea who's clothes you wore, but you knew you were at the Spring Manor. 

As if on queue, a house maid opened the doors to your room, behind her a healer. It was the same perky house maid that had greeted you when you first visited Tamlin. 

“Oh good, you’re awake, she pepped. The healer wordlessly approached you, pressing her thumb to your wrist. She gave the maid a quick nod before leaving the room, without having spoken a word. 

“She’s mute,” the maid explained. 

Oh. You stared back at her. So were you, it seemed.

“The High Lord will be eager to hear you are awake. Will you take his visit?”

You nodded silently, unable to form the thousands of questions as your brain came to wake. 

Tamlin was in your room in no less than a few minutes. 

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about that. Looking within yourself, you felt it there, a swollen heart, alive and beating and thriving, but also aching from a deep wound. You were nautious and weak and so gods damned angry. How could the Mother be so cruel?

“How long was I asleep?”

“Just a day.”

You nodded, running your hand through your hair. “And we’re in Spring?”

Tamlin nodded. “Feyre and Rhys winnowed us here.”

You were too tired to gawk, so you blinked instead. “Pardon me?”

“And your… Azriel and Cassian are still here, waiting for you to wake.”

You must still be dreaming. “You opened your home to them?” you croaked.

Tamlin shrugged. “We wanted to bring you to your Uncle’s, but you could see to a healer faster here. Besides, there was no fitting five fae in that cabin, especially two Illyrians.”

“They could have slept outside,” you ground out, and Tamlin chuckled. 

“You do… remember what unfolded at the wedding, don’t you? That Azriel and Cassian are your mates?”

“Do not call them that.” Taming the bite in your tone was beyond you, even for your friend. You had to clench your eyes shut to stop the reel in your vision, your whole body clenching as you remembered that awful, fated moment.

Tamlin didn't falter. Instead he dropped his eyes before reaching for your hand and squeezing it sympathetically. “Are you in any pain?”

“Yes. No. I don't know,” you said plainly, pinching at your nose. It did hurt, this unwanted binding to the two beings you resented most in this world. It hurt to resist them, to resist it. As if there was a home, beckoning you inside to warmth and food and comfort, and instead you stood outside in the hail and cold, despising it for ever being built.

Tamlin’s eyes were soft as he watched you shift uncomfortably. You hated that look too, as if he was sad for you, as if this bond was your fate and you had no say in the matter. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he blinked. 

“As if I’m some mindless female destined to forget and forgive and go running back with a kiss to each of their cheeks.”

“I don’t think that–”

“Because I’m not, and I won’t. I still have my head, and my senses, and some gods-damned self respect.” 

Tamlin sighed then. “No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to Y/N. I won't allow it.”

You cast your eyes to the roof then, blinking away the sting of tears. “And what of us, Tamlin? Suppose I was free to explore a future with you?”

Tamlin moved to hold your one hands in his, running a thumb in your palm. “You are free, sweetheart.”

“And you would court me, knowing I’m cauldron-bound to not just one, but two others?”

His thumb stopped rubbing then, and his lips pressed to a thin line. 

You stared hard at Tamlin, eyes piercing. Don’t lie - that look said - we do not lie to each other. 

And as Tamlin raised green eyes to yours, in their softness you had your answer. 

“Your silence is answer enough,” you bit, letting out a sharp breath as tears slid down your cheeks, snatching your hand from his. 

It had started – your choices, your freedom – fading away already. Curse the Mother.

“Come now Y/N, I will always love you, and we will always have each other, however our relationship might change.”

“Lies, Tamlin. Fucking lies,” your voice broke as tears streamed down your cheeks. You were flushed with anger then, kicking off the sheets that were now too hot, your skin beginning to tingle. Gods, not now you begged, holding your breath to stifle the sting at your fingertips.

“I do not lie to you, Y/N.” Tamlin said sternly. 

You swung your legs from your bed, standing in a hurry as blood rushed to your head. “You’re just another disappointment,” you said coldly, pacing as you shook your hands to rid of your power. 

Pain flashed in his eyes, and he recoiled slightly before straightening, his eyes hardening. “You’re being unfair.” 

“You males are all the same! You treat females as if they are objects, owned by one male and therefore not to be touched by another. An unspoken exchange, as if I were cattle and not an actual fucking being.” 

Tamlin pinched his nose then, his jaw tightening. “That is not what is happening here. You cannot punish me for not wanting to entangle myself in your mateship, not when I’m doing it out of respect for you.”

You were being unfair, and quite unforgiving, but your words were as unstoppable as your power in this moment, zapping and dancing at your skin. 

“Is that what you define as respect, High Lord? Because despite a year of friendship, all it took was one gods-foresaken moment for you to side with what they want, and start dismissing me. You believe in the bond, and you respect Azriel and Cassian enough to house them, and agree that you won't so much as look at me again. You have chosen them over me, plain and simple.”

Tamlin’s face was grave, and you knew you were twisting an old wound of his. And perhaps you were being rash, but you didn't care. You would shut him out, or anyone who thought they knew what was best for you. 

“I thought I was helping you by allowing them here,” he said defensively. “I thought perhaps you’d feel safe here, but would still want them close, to be able to talk to them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re gods-damned right I want to talk to them! I’ll tell them exactly what I think of this couldren-made-shackle, of what I think of the Mother if they think for one second they can–” You swayed on the spot as you spat a string of curses, vision blurring slightly.

Despite the cruel words you had cast his way, Tamlin approached, steadying you by your shoulder’s, biting down on the pain that stung him at his touch. 

“I understand your anger, Y/N, I do. But you’re still unwell, you should rest now and–”

Tamlin should have know better than to test your stubbornness. 

So you marched for the door, flinging it open as you stormed through the manor, using that tether you so loathed to cast out your mates. Tamlin was on your tail, trying to reason to take a moment or calm yourself before doing anything rash. But you didn't turn once as you found the room that beheld your mates, ripping the doors open without so much as a knock. 

They knew you were coming of course. Azriel stood near the bed, and Cassian had just risen from the armchair he sat on in the opposite corner – their faces grave, worried, with a sickening kind of longing. 

It was as if the flesh between your bones went soft, your body begging to give out or give in and relish in the proximity of being close to your mates. But you forced yourself to stay stiff, holding a glare that could cut glass.

“Wipe those looks off your faces,” you bit, stalking into the room.

Azriel cast his eyes to Tamlin who held a look that said I tried to stop her. He knew better than to linger, pulling the doors closed behind you.

“How are you fee–?” Cassian tried, but you raised a hand to silence him. 

They waited in silence, and you darted your eyes between them. 

“You think this means I forgive you?”

They knew better than to answer that. 

“You think this means you can have me, because the Mother wishes to see us mated?” you continued, your voice laced with ice. “Well it doesn’t. I will not head to fate and forsake myself, not even for the cauldron.”

Azriel sighed then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “Of course you won’t,” he said plainly. 

You scowled. “Is that sarcasm?” you bit, even though you felt his sincerity creeping through the tether. 

“No. It’s knowing.”

You blinked.

“We know you doll,” Cassian said as he too sat back in the chair, running a strong hand through his hair – a tell sign of stress. “Not because of the bond. But because we’ve loved you for almost a decade now. We know there is not a thing that can set you apart from your principles.”

“And we would never ask that of you,” Azriel added.

You shuffled, your arms crossing defensively. “You won't try to convince me to go back with you?” you asked stiffly.

Cassian shook his head. “No, it was wrong for us to ask that of you in the first place.”

Azriel stood then, moving closer to a settee in the centre of the room. “We do ask that you might let us explain. We have so much we've wanted to tell you, even before you left Velaris. And there is a lot of truth we’ve withheld, things you deserve to know.” He slid his hands behind his back, waiting at the seats – a silent offering to join them, to hear them out. 

It was a temptation you couldn't deny yourself. You moved swiftly, sitting on one side, a low reading table separating you as Cassian took a place next to Azriel. 

“We had suspicions of the bond from when we first began to court you.” Azriel began. “It was so rare for us to long for the same female, but the true hint was in the lack of jealousy we felt between each other.”

Cassian nodded. “We agreed to court you as, well, as partners. It wasn't anything we had explored in our 500 years, but with you, it felt so natural.”

“And your ease too, that was a big sign,” Azriel added. “We half expected you to flee, or never speak to us again.”

“But you were so comfortable, you made it feel… right.”

You were frowning slightly. You didn't remember feeling natural or at ease at all, in fact you were sick to your stomach with nerves when you first began dating. But perhaps they had a point, exploring your first relationship with two males hadn’t added any more challenge than regular dating for you. You had put that down to your friendship of many years. 

“Over the period we dated, and as we fell in love with you, we learned to love each other too. We were brothers, but you showed us how to be more than that, igniting something not even they Cauldron dared show us.”

“We wanted to tell you of our suspicions, but it didn’t feel like the right time. You were so focused on your work, so determined to do well. And I suppose we thought it was a hopeless dream – it didn't feel right to distract you with that.” Cassian explained, leaning into his elbows that rested on his knees.

You weighed up their words, eyes darting between the males. It had never occurred to you that a mating bond was at play. You would have never believed yourself to be cauldron-blessed if they had suggested it – or cauldron-cursed rather.

Azriel cleared his throat, cutting through the silence. “It wasn't until the moment that I killed Alvar, that I felt the bond snap,” he breathed out, his voice husky and his hazel eyes cast downward, grimacing as he recalled the difficult memory. “I watched the life leave his body, and then I heard a snap, a force so strong it made me falter. I was reborn in that moment, my new purpose to solely fill your needs, to care for you, protect you. I could feel your desires overriding mine, and in that your determination and hunger to avenge your sister. And I knew then, that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.”

There was a downward tug of your lips, your face muscles jerking involuntarily as you tried not to cry, imagining that moment that changed everything for the worse. 

“I have dreams of Alvar, still alive and at the mercy of Trutheller. I dream that I sheath my sword and step away, returning to a world where you are waiting for me at our home. And your embrace is warm and true, because you love us, and we never did a thing to ruin it.” Azriel’s voice broke as he flashed those hazel eyes, lined with tears. 

Two silent tears slid down your cheeks, your chest tight with the shallows breaths you kept to keep yourself from crumbling. You didn't respond – what could you say? Instead, you cleared your throat, grasping the arms of your chair even tighter. “And what of you?” you asked Cassian. 

“It snapped for me in that same moment. But I was journeying home from the northern training camps in Illyria.” 

You blinked in shock. The bond had snapped for the both of them, with that greater distance between them while Azriel was across the sea?

“As I was flying back to Velaris, and I heard the snap in my ears before I felt it course through my veins and wounding my heart. That realisation, that same pain that Azriel described, the devastation at what we had done… it sent me crashing into the thick of forest.”

You closed your eyes as you imagined the great War General, bought to his knees by such a thing. 

“It seems none of us have been welcomed to this mateship gently,” you said tightly. Why had the Mother forsaken so much pain?

“I could hear Az then, speak to him through the bond in the same way Rhys and Feyre speak in  our minds. I could feel his panic too, his fear of having to tell you, to break you in such a way. I calmed him down as best I could, and reassured him that we would do it together, as soon as he returned.”

Your eyes turned cold again. “But that isn’t what happened.”

“It was a cowards choice to ask Rhys to be the one tell you, we know,” Azriel said with dismay. “But the concept of hurting you, of wounding our mate so deeply? It was unfathomable.”

“Its not an excuse,” Cassian added. “But we hope you can understand, there is an instinct there that twists our concept of what is wrong and right. Rhys understood that, it was the same instinct that kept him from telling Feyre about the risk of birthing Nyx. I think that’s why he volunteered to tell you, to protect us from something that would wound us so deeply.”

“We are learning, Y/N, and we are so sorry that we hurt you,” Azriel said, hazel eyes pinning you with their intensity. “But we are trying, and we will do better by you.”

You looked between the two of them, pulling your hands to your lap as your fingers trembled. It was just all so much. 

Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to say those words – I forgive you. 

You could see it, relief flooding the bond and breaking those solemn gazes, their embrace and warmth and scent surrounding you, fulfilling your primal desire. Their lips on yours, their hands on your body, yours on theirs, puling each other in and never letting go. There was a thrumming in your heart, a pulsing through your veins. It felt so right. 

But then you thought of the life you had made, the path you were forced to walk by yourself after what they had done. They had broken you completely, and you had put yourself back together, now stronger than ever. Your mission work, your life in Spring, the pain you endured and the scars that remained from doing it alone – it was a part of you now, and you could never let that go. 

You were at a cross roads – one path leading to the overwhelming promise of unconditional love that tempted your heart, the other promising freedom and choice and sense, tempting your head.

“What are you thinking?” Cassian asked, his voice soft from where he still sat, anxiously fidgeting with his hands. 

You took a deep breath. “That I am overwhelmed.”

Cassian nodded, and Azriel watched you before speaking softly. “That is understandable.”

You didn't have an answer for them, not even for yourself. 

“I don't know what to do,” you whispered. 

Cassian continued to nod, casting his eyes down sadly. “Whatever you decide, Y/N, we will do right by you.”

“Of course we dream of you accepting the bond, of becoming our mate, we won't deny that. But we want you to want it,” Azriel added. 

You gulped, anticipating the pain that would come from your next words. “And what if I decide to break the bond?”

Cassian’s head dropped as he let out a wrangled sob. Azriel’s shadows recoiled so fast they disappeared entirely. The latter gripped the chair, his knuckles white as he slipped into that place he so often had to as the Spy Master – a place where nothing could hurt him. “The choice is yours.”

“Please,” Cassian breathed out, tears streaming down his face. It was a plea, even the thought of the bond breaking unbearable to him. 

It unbearable for you too, and fresh tears slid down your face as your arms coiled tighter around the ache in your stomach. It would sicken you, perhaps almost kill the three of you. But it was what they deserved. 

You were exhausted, and keeping that wall up through the bond, stopping their emotions from tampering with your own – that alone had you begging for your bed. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said with a broken voice, guilt slipping through at the sight of the General sobbing before you.

Azriel put an arm around his brother, comforting him as best he could. “We know that, sweetheart. Of course we know that.”

You cast your eyes sideways as you blinked through more tears. “But I don't have an answer for you.”

Cassian nodded, running his hands over his face as he tried to collect himself. “Take your time,” he said after a few moments, his voice shaky and breaths forced. “We will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“And you don't need any more bargains from Rhys or Feyre,” Azriel added. “We will respect your privacy Y/N, any and all distance you might need. Let us prove that to you.”

You nodded then, forcing yourself to your knees despite the scream of protests in all of your muscles and joints. Gods, is this how the rest of your life would be, forever fighting a higher cause? Perhaps you’d go mad before you could ever hope to forgive them.

“I will…,” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Good bye, Cassian and Azriel,” you forced out, your voice thick from the cry that begged at your throat. 

Cassian’s lip wobbled, and Azriel’s brow broke upwards as he spoke. “Take good care of yourself, Y/N.” 

Cassian’s head felt to his hands, and you forced yourself to close the doors behind you, quieting the sound of his cries. 

————

You spent three weeks at your Uncle’s cabin – mostly in bed and unspeaking, even to Finbark. He dotted over you, trying to pry you from your room to spend some time outside or eat a full meal. But that familiar pain had returned, that same weight that kept you bed bound for days in your old apartment. It was grief, in all shapes and kinds.

You hadn't broken the bond, but it was rejected good and proper for now. And it hurt so gods damned much. Your waking moments were consumed with the tug and pull of what was right, a constant reeling battle that exhausted you to every extent. 

The mission aid work carried on without you – you had a competent team of friends that you trusted to continue to provide care across Spring Court. You were grateful for their passion and dedication – while your desire to help others was unreachable in those moments, and you felt completely numb to what you once had thought was your life’s calling. You despised the bond for changing you so.

You wondered of the wild Geranium, if it had been harvested yet and if Tamlin or your team had made any progress on bottling its healing pigment. 

And there was pain and guilt when you thought of Tamlin too. You had hurt him – you were malicious in your anger and said so many things you hadn't meant. You weren't angry at him, not really. Your anger lied with the Mother and your mates, and you could not fault him for not wanting to complicate relations and involve himself where he knew he shouldn’t. He was true to his word – he was open and honest with you – and you had punished him for it. 

Tamlin hadn’t sent word, and you knew he was respecting the distance you sought, perhaps even licking his own wounds. So you would start there, apologise to him, and help just one person hurt less from the recoil of your poisonous mating bond. 

You sent word to his Manor, asking him to meet you in three days time. 

————

Tamlin was at the stables, brushing down his steed when you trotted up on Podie. 

He wore his riding pants again, boots to his knees, a shirt tucked in at his tight abdomen, strong forearms moving the brush gently across the horses back. You cursed the Mother that the sight of him didn't have the same effect on you as it had a few months prior – the bond chipping away at what you had once known to desire. 

Your heart did clench at the sight of him in a sorry way, his blond hair pulled back as he worked humbly. You had missed your friend dearly, and even the Mother could not stop you from feeling that.

Tamlin turned, his face neutral as he watched you approach, neither of you speaking. Green eyes followed your dismount, and you lingered for a moment before you rushed at him, wrapping your arms at his waist and burying your face into his chest. The scent of mountain dew and fresh cut grass filled your nose – gods you had missed that.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked before sobs overtook, muffled by his clothing. 

Tamlins arms were still in the air, shocked by your approach. But he loosed a breath, bringing them to hug you, rubbing soft circles on your back. 

Relief found you then, and you melted further into his touch. A sign of truce. “I’m so so sorry Tamlin.”

“Shhh, it’s alright Y/N. It’s alright.”

You shook your head, pulling away and looking up at him. “You were only trying to help, and I was so cruel. The things I said, I–”

Tamlin shook his head gently, hushing you. “I don't understand the instincts of a mating bond, but I do know what it is to say things out of anger.”

“I didn't mean them,” you swallowed with guilt.

He smiled softly. “I know.”

You took a deep breath. “Please forgive me.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes playfully then, a smirk now on his lips. “I already had.”��

You tried to smile back, but it came out all wobbly, so Tamlin pulled you in again, swaying in a hug as he kissed the top of your head. 

After some lunch and a stroll through the gardens, he watched your carefully as you fingered the roses. 

“Do you know what you’ll do of the bond?”

You stiffened, your eyes not leaving the row of flowers before you. “No, I really don’t,” you said sadly. It was true, you hadn't a clue what to do next. 

Tamlin nodded.

After a deep sigh, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “But I do know what I want for my life. I want to continue my mission work, expand my horizons and work across Prythian. I suppose I need to approach the other High Lords, and harvest the Geranium if you’re still willing?”

Tamlin smiled, his eyes warm as he seemed to find relief. “It’s all yours.”

You nodded, smiling back. There was relief for you too – you recognised your old self in those words. Your passion to help others was still alive and strong – and that meant the cauldron hadn’t changed you beyond recognition, and if you fought hard enough, it couldn't if it tried.

“I’m so grateful to have you in my life, Tam,” you confessed, your chest swelling with sincerity.

Tamlin raised his brows in question. 

You gave a half smile. “You make me feel… like myself. No matter the circumstance.”

Tamlin’s face softened in a way that made you wonder how long it was since he was shown a genuine kind of love – especially after what happened with Hybern.

“You are wonderfully you, Y/N, with or without my help.”

“Always the humble High Lord,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “But I would not have made it this far without you. You’re my dearest friend.”

Tamlin reached and squeezed your hand. “You’re dear to me too, Y/N.”

You squeezed back, and you swore to yourself that the bond would not interfere in this friendship ever again. 

————

6 months later

The High Lords meeting was held in Dawn, in an impressive wide cast room, marble sprawled from floor to ceiling, glassless windows arched at every wall. All seven High lords and one High Lady seated at a wide-spanning table, a cartographic map of Prythian etched within the wood. 

Fingers tingling as you shook them out, and skirts kicking at your feet, you paced anxiously on the other side of the double doors to the meeting hall.

Today was the day you would propose your mission to expand refuge aid across the whole of Prythian, asking the High Lords to consider opening their borders and contributing resources and volunteers of their own. 

Your team had worked tirelessly to get to this point – the wild Geranium was now harvested and a new batch was already seeding, and you had worked for months on your proposal, researching natural resources, writing guidance sheets on how to train volunteers, identifying what each court had to contribute and when. 

The challenge that lay ahead of you now was to appeal to spectrum of powerful leaders waiting on the other side of those doors. You knew of their egos, of the rivalry and sensitivities between courts – this was no easy task.  

“Tamlin must certainly be a terrible lover if this is how wound up he leaves you.”

You threw a scowl over your shoulder, knowing that voice and whitewood scent. 

“And what of you, Eris? Waiting for daddy to finish his meeting like the good dog you are?”

Eris gave a half grin, one that didn't reach his eyes. He strolled over, leaning against the wall as he watched you try to calm yourself, delighting in your nerves. “Speaking of dogs, I heard your mates are cooped up at Night Court, the both of them suffering from wounded hearts.”

Your bared your teeth before you could think twice. Eris knowing that both Cassian and Azriel were your mates was dangerous, but the primal snarl had escaped you for that insult alone.

Eris’s eyes danced with satisfaction. “Oh, don't go feral on me now, Y/N. From what I hear, you haven't so much a secured the bond with a fuck.”

“I will–“ your hands curled into fists as you stalked up to the male, overcome with a shaking rage. 

But Eris stayed leaning, cleaning his nails with arrogant nonchalance as he cut you off. “I suppose they’ll have to satisfy each other instead, how sad.”

Your hand was raised, ready to strike, and fire glowed in Eris’s eyes. 

“Try that, girl, and your pathetic mission turns to dust. You can forget any allegiance from Autumn, and it’s likely others will back out too.”

You faltered, your arm swaying slightly. He was right – the prick. A sounding slap was not the way to heed your proposal.

He grinned with smug satisfaction as you lowered your arm and turned away. “Such a violent response from someone who preaches to only want to help others. Perhaps you’re not the peaceful messiah you claim to be, Y/N.”

“I’ve never had a problem defending what is mine,” you threw over your shoulder. “And my aid is offered to those in need, not to arrogant princelings, or lapdogs and the likes.”

A snarl tickled at Eris’s lips, and you were glad to have landed at least one blow, be it verbal. 

“You consider those overgrown bats yours?” he asked with distaste. “So it’s true then, about the bond?”

Blinking, you played back the words that had found you so naturally. Was that how you felt? 

Chewing on your lip, you decided to ignore Eris’s question. You would think of that later – you had a meeting to focus on, and you’d be damned if either the mating bond or Eris distracted you from it. 

You didn’t have time to throw a final insult his way before Thesan pulled the double doors open, eight pairs of eyes now set on you, and Eris no where in sight. 

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile. 

You gulped before straightening yourself, stepping into the room and facing the most important moment of your entire existence, whether you were ready or not.

--------

Part 6>>>

AN: SURPRISE guest appearance by Eris ;) ;) ;) Hello hello lovelies, thank you so much for your patience on this part, I know it took a while ❤️  I am so so excited to finally explore a bit of Cazriel's perspective, and get their side to the story. I hope I've done all the characters justice so far! And there's still so much to explore – I am very keen to share the next part and see how this High Lords meeting goes down (let's face it, there will be TEA). As always, I LOVE hearing your thoughts and opinions on the fic, so pretty please drop me a comment or ask anytime! Hope you're all well and are taking care of yourselves too. MWAH!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️ 

[signanothername]

What do u think of the trope where Blue/Swap joins the bad guy???

I have complicated feelings about it?

I love the trope in of itself, I think it would be a really interesting trope to explore

The problem tho? I never once saw it executed in a way that grabbed my attention or made me actually love the story it was used in

It immediately goes to the “asshole” Dream and Ink and “kind found family” Nightmare gang trope

Which again, if you don’t know, I hate the trope of Dream being somehow an asshole or somehow treating Swap as tho he’s less than him

Ink is a whole different story where the fandom simply villainize him just cause he’s soulless

And the kind found family Nightmare gang is a trope I love, but just like the trope of Blue joining the Nightmare gang, it’s poorly executed most of the time (and I mean, how can you call it a “Blue joins the bad guys” when the “bad guys” are shown to be good guys????)

Like, I opened so many different fics only to be hit with the same execution of this trope over and over, eventually just losing interest bxhxhdhdh

The idea of Swap not being able to “keep up” with Ink and Dream or is somehow neglecting himself to take care of Dream just doesn’t really intrigue me (or even make sense to me)

Like don’t get me me wrong, I’m an absolute sucker for the “Swap is literally the only anchor Dream has left in his life otherwise he’d fucking break down” but I dare say Swap is more than capable of handling it without it weighing him down to a significant degree

This is Swap for god’s sake, he’s literally Papyrus’ personality but in a Sans body, if anything, he’s the one who has his shit together the most and is able to go on with a genuine happy and determined smile on his face, no matter the shit that happens to him, it would make a lot more sense for Dream to be the one to try and catch up with Swap than the other way around

I get that the trope tries to show the limitations of Swap as a mortal compared to Dream and Ink who are both pretty much immortal, but what people tend to do is that they completely twist Swap to be absolutely pathetic just for this trope to work

Which *shakes the fandom* I promise you don’t have to completely change a character up to make a trope work

Like I saw stories that made Blue to be somehow a weak depressed anxious guy trying so hard and is failing and whatnot and I question myself whether that’s even Swap anymore hchcchcjvj

I think the problem I usually see when people try and write different tropes for different characters, is that they try to make the trope make sense, and so they twist the character around to fit around the trope

Which, imho, is ineffective, you should understand the character, and then think of how the character would deal with a certain situation and how that leads to the trope you’re trying to write, one step at a time without having to ignore/erase important personality traits of the character

Of course, that doesn’t mean the trope you’re trying to write can’t fundamentally change the perception, personality, or behavior of a character, but you have to show how it affects the character to such a fundamental degree, show how can the character be heavily influenced and affected in a way that makes sense for said character

For example, I’ve seen people write Swap neglecting to eat cause he’s trying to “keep up” or sometimes Dream and Ink don’t give him the chance to cause they pressure him to go on another mission or push him too hard

Here are some problems I see with this:

- why is the Nightmare gang even somehow attacking every single day? Have they got nothing better to do? Especially with the fact they’re a found family now?

- why is Dream and Ink going out for “missions” every day if the Nightmares aren’t attacking, like damn what are they even doing?? What are these “important missions”?? Since when was Ink so obsessed with “missions”?

- Swap would absolutely not let that shit stand, if anything, he’d be very vocal about it and tell Dream and Ink to sit down and eat his great delicious tacos (Swap’s voice always has power behind it, and his actions are a direct reflection of his beliefs not what others push him to do)

- Ink has a home in the doodlesphere, he wouldn’t even be around enough to push Blue, while Swap has an AU and a brother, there is pretty much no way he’d be with Dream and Ink 24/7, and if he was somehow, you think Swap Paps would let it slide? And even if we go with the idea of Swap not being part of an AU anymore, you think Swap himself would neglect himself just to please others even when it doesn’t align with his own beliefs?

And those are only few of the top of my head, I’m pretty sure if I sat down and thought about this for a few hours, I’d be able to write you a whole other set of problems

Not saying you can never write Swap neglecting to eat, you absolutely can, it’s just needs to make sense for Swap as a character, what would it take for Swap to start neglecting his health? It’s not others pressuring him or pushing him I can tell you that much

So yeah, good trope, not so good execution (for me at least)

I guess I’m way too focused on the logic of it to truly enjoy it for what it is, but then again I always love to complicate things way more than I need to

Not every trope or story has to make sense completely, but I guess seeing Swap be completely made into a pathetic mess with no actual grounds to support it beyond “he’s mortal and his friends aren’t“ just ruins it for me dhdhhdhd

[gatitties]

HEY HEYYY! I got a request for u if u don’t mind!! Also before I ask, I literally jus found out that ur the one writing Freshwater on wattpad and I was FLABBERGASTED CUZ I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS U I WAS SO HAPPY CUZ I LOVE UR WRITING SM. Ight anywayy-

Can I please have a Strawhats x teen! Reader who’s like Link from The Legend of Zelda?? The reader is silent because they feel its necessary to stay strong and silently bear any burdens(like Link) and so their really skilled with a sword and a bow for their age!! Their also really fun and even if their really strong their still being silly and they get into any sorts of trouble out of recklessness and adventure. Their adorable, and u can still hear their giggles and chuckles but just no words. I jus find this idea so cute😭 but ofc their still gonna be serious when the situation calls for it!

Take your time with this!!! Please and thank you. Have a good life!!!❤️

─ Strawhats x teen!reader (platonic)

─ Summary: You are a faithful and reliable companion, with few words beyond a few shouts or phrases, as well as a genius at solving puzzles.

─ Warnings: none

ohhh were you reading freshwater?! 😳 I'm sorry to have the story so abandoned but right now I don't really feel like writing it, but I promise to update one day and I totally understood the Link description, I love botw and totk <33

─ The entire crew adores you for one reason or another, as you are really reliable enough to find money efficiently (no vase has been broken, so far…) and silly enough to play along with Luffy and Chopper.

─ Not to mention your fighting skills, although you were not the strongest, you were cunning enough to easily win a battle in different ways.

─ You practice sword combat alongside Zoro, although you don't necessarily use swords, you usually make do with anything that can hit your enemies, even if it's a tree twig.

─ You will also sharpen your aim with the bow with Usopp.

─ You spend hours in the kitchen with Sanji because you love to see how the dishes are prepared, also because you will receive a little more food on your plate because of that, you have a great appetite, not comparable to Luffy's but you could compete with him.

─ You spend some of your free time doing some puzzles with Robin.

─ Usopp always hugs you when there is a threat, since you always put on that brave face in the face of problems, without a doubt you are a good shield for this scared boy.

─ Once you almost blew up half the ship because you were playing with your bombs, Jimbe was able to stop it in time and they forbade you from playing with them on the ship.

─ It's okay, Franky will make you new bombs that are not so easy to explode, he will give you a remote control and a timer without anyone finding out.

─ You are a persistent and stubborn person, Chopper will have to bandage your hands more than once because you preferred to climb an entire mountain instead of going around the predetermined path.

─ Nami always goes with you when you are exploring, she doesn't know how, but you always find chests everywhere with valuable rewards, you are a gold mine.

─ Sometimes when you stop to rest in a village you find yourself involved in other people's problems (like your captain but on a smaller scale) and solving their problems, receiving rewards in return.

─ You are so stoic and at the same time so expressive, the crew would not be able to describe your personality exactly, but without a doubt you were more than reliable for all kinds of situations despite being only a teenager.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

The Chapter 4 Essay Part 1: Kokichi Ouma

A metapost on my thoughts on Kokichi’s overall motivations and Gonta’s actions during ch4. Split into two parts. You can find the Gonta half here: (LINK)

I think the way Kokichi acts when he’s telling the truth says something crucial about his personality. When he’s telling the genuine truth, his expression becomes carefully neutral.

(post trial, chapter 1)

To me, it feels like he’s trying very hard to keep this face of neutrality. Normally, he’s able to expertly express any emotion that he wants to. In these moments, its almost like the emotion he’s feeling is so overpowering that he’s trying to repress it in order to maintain control over the face he presents to everyone else, but isn’t quite able to do so.

Kokichi is very careful about keeping people from seeing the parts of himself that he doesn’t choose to show. His villain persona and constant lying is part of this- He wants to keep people away from him. During the events of the killing game, he uses the distance that he creates in many ways. Part of it was that not having many close alliances allowed him to go off and do whatever he wanted during daily life. This let him explore the school and investigate the truth of the killing game without interruption or much attention. Lying also gave him distance between the game and himself. Pretending that the killing game was fun might’ve been his way to cope with everything that was happening. I think Kokichi is really damn good at separating himself from his emotions, lying to himself to do what he thinks needs to be done. This line from Chapter 1 is pretty telling…

(post trial, chapter 1)

This was also something he says himself to Kaito in the exisal hanger during chapter 5.

(post trial, chapter 5)

I’m inclined to believe everything that Kokichi says to Kaito in the exisal hanger. As Kiibo says when Kaito questions it, “I think his dying words may have been the honest truth.” Knowing he was about the die, and that he absolutely needed Kaito’s help to get his plan to break the killing game to work- to achieve his genuine, true goal- I don’t see any reason for him to lie.

This emotional distance extends past just the killing game. I think it's a key part of how he interacts with others around him.

Kokichi is an ultimate leader. I think he uses his talent throughout the game in an attempt to “lead” everyone from the shadows. He wanted to stop the killing game and escape with as many people as possible. However, his methods are very ends-justify-the-means. I believe that he did genuinely care about everyone at the ultimate academy, but in the detached way a distant king might care about his subjects. On the other hand, if he had to use or sacrifice a few as pawns for the greater good, that is what had to be done. It’s not like it didn’t emotionally affect him, but I think he was deliberately trying to keep his distance so that it would not impact him as much, and so that he could continue trying to tear the killing game apart with as many tools in his arsenal as possible.

(post trial, chapter 5)

With this core motivation in mind, this brings us to Chapter 4.

In my opinion, the Killing Game Busters was never a plan that was meant to succeed. From an in-game perspective, the idea that he was originally going to follow this mercy kill plan doesn’t make sense to me. Firstly, Kokichi already had suspicions that they were being watched as early as chapter 3.

(post trial, chapter 3)

…and he later confirms that he was fully convinced of this fact when Monokuma agreed to reuse the chapter 4 motive in the virtual world.

(post trial, chapter 5)

He knew that this killing game was for somebody else’s entertainment. I’ll go a bit into the secret of the outside world in a moment, but considering this, I don’t think he ever fully believed in it. Choosing to mercy kill everyone, in the name of a “truth” that was incompatible with what he had discovered… just doesn’t make sense to me.

Not to mention, from a narrative standpoint, I think the idea that he was completely for this mercy kill plan, decided to throw out the plan mid-trial, and then start an entirely different plan to end the killing game in chapter 5, isn’t very compelling. It weakens Kokichi’s overall character by making his motivation less cohesive and making him seem less organized over all, which I think is one of his strengths as a character. A Kokichi that is this fickle with what he’s trying to do would not have been able to write the script for chapter 5.

I think he always had different goals in mind with the Killing Game Busters. The first was something that is made very clear in chapter 5, but started here in chapter 4: He wanted to stop the killing to give himself room to break the game while minimizing deaths. The second was to further villainize himself, for all the reasons I talked about above, and some more I will get into in a little bit.

Seeing the secret of the outside world was undoubtably disturbing, regardless of whether he believed it or not; there is a noticeable shift in how Kokichi acts before and after he swipes that card key. Combined with discovering that Miu, someone he’d been working with closely, was planning on murdering him, I believe that seeing the destruction of the outside world pushed him towards more drastic measures than what he had been doing in previous chapters. He decided that in order for his plan in chapter 5 to work (which he had almost certainly already been planning at this point, considering how elaborate it was), he needed to make everyone question if pursuing the truth was the right thing to do at all.

After Miu’s body discovery, nobody was really worried about losing this class trial. Everyone had seen how Shuichi had guided them all to the truth and caught the blackened three times in a row, despite the unique difficulties in each case. They had full confidence in his abilities.

(investigation, chapter 4)

Shuichi is also not really doubting his abilities as a detective anymore. One of Shuichi’s core internal conflicts is his fear of the consequences of revealing the truth. Up to this point, it seems like he’s been moving past it. Especially after catching Korekiyo “Actual Serial Killer” Shinguji, who had no regrets or grey motivation for his killings. Shuichi’s morale, and subsequently everyone else’s, was at an all time high. (Of course, he was starting to feel a lot of pressure to solve these cases and save everyone on his own�� but that’s another issue. ily Shuichi)

If Kokichi could take the wind out of Shuichi’s sails, really destroy the confidence he had built up so far, he could set up his impossible trial in chapter 5 to be more likely to work as intended. Everyone will be less motivated to try and figure out what happened if they are uncertain that finding the truth would actually result in anything good.

And I do believe he was trying to knock Shuichi off balance specifically. Damaging his confidence is one thing, but he was also deliberately trying to drive a wedge between him and Kaito. He antagonizes Kaito all chapter 4 investigation, including making up a nickname for Shuichi (“Shumai”) that directly riffs off Kaito’s closeness with Maki. He insists into the trial that he and Shuichi are partners now.

(class trial, chapter 4)

(Sidenote: Kokichi’s behaviour during trial 4 is genuinely really interesting to me. On top of the direct digs like this, he says a lot more subtle things to get under Kaito’s skin during trial 4 that I think are super neat to pay attention to.)

Theoretically, pushing Kaito away from Shuichi, combined with the powerlessness he’ll feel in the wake of the truth of both trial 4 and the outside world, could make him easier to convince to join Kokichi’s “side”. He even directly asks Shuichi to team up with him before leaving the virtual world:

(daily life, Chapter 4)

This leads me to believe that Shuichi was originally the one that Kokichi intended to use to build his impossible trial. I mean, if Shuichi was the one in the exisal hanger and presumed dead instead of Kaito, the chances of everyone else solving that mystery drops Significantly. Everyone else, aside from maybe Kiibo, was 100% convinced that Kokichi was the mastermind at that point. No one except Shuichi would’ve tried to dig as deep as he did, for better or for worse. I think this idea is supported by the note that Kokichi wrote next to Shuichi’s face on the whiteboard in his room (“trustworthy?”). He was clearly considering Shuichi as a person for one reason or another, and I believe this is it.

By condemning Gonta, who everyone else perceived as a kind soul who would never hurt anybody, someone who was struggling to understand what the virtual world even was with his amnesia, would be perceived by the others as kicking someone when they were down. Gonta has an absolutely miserable time through the accusations and wholly blames himself for how things turned out in the end. That, and Gonta’s actions were even well-intentioned. The secret of the outside world was apparently so horrible, Gonta thought it would be kinder to mercy kill everyone rather than force them to face it. This result would make everyone question if the truth was really as undoubtably good as they had come to think so far; Not only did Gonta suffer because they had to find the truth, but seeking the secret of the outside world would apparently also only lead to suffering. This would make them hesitate during Kokichi’s impossible trial.

(class trial, chapter 4)

As I said before, Kokichi’s second goal for trial 4 was villainizing himself even further. He says that this was a goal himself to Kaito in chapter 5.

(post trial, chapter 5)

Part of this villainization was just adding to the persona he had already created for himself and that I already talked about his motivations for before. The other part was what he says here. He specifically wanted everyone to think that he was the mastermind. This gave him leverage in two main ways. First, making himself appear to be the mastermind with an actual mastermind as hands off as Tsumugi genuinely gave him power over everyone else. He used this in chapter 5 to put a pause to the killings and give himself more room to enact his plan to break the killing game from the inside.

(daily life, chapter 5)

Although he then says “You guys can commit suicide together or kill each other… / Or, you can change your mind and stay here! You’re welcome to do that too!”, having experienced the secret of the outside world already, I think he’s pretty confident in what they will be feeling in this moment. No one is going to kill each other, and he knows that. He wants them to take that second option for the time being while he sets up his plot.

Making himself appear like the mastermind also benefited his impossible trial plan directly. Everyone would be much more likely to vote for someone they were convinced was the mastermind rather than one of their friends. No one would suspect that it was really him that was the victim.

“Using Gonta and making him into a murderer” was a significant part of how he villainized himself, but the way he treated Gonta during this whole experience was also a major factor. Starting as early as just after Miu was killed, he begins to be really aggressively mean to Gonta. He just straight up bullies him throughout the second half of the trial.

(daily life, chapter 4)

(class trial, chapter 4)

And then, after all this, he acts remorseful and sides himself with Gonta at the very end. It isn't genuine emotion like he felt before Kaede's execution, shown by his neutral expression. To me, this uncharacteristically open expression of grief feels like it was just set up to exacerbate the impact of his cruelty after Gonta’s execution. At this point, everybody’s little faith in Kokichi has been shaken significantly. With the shock of the trial, maybe you Could start to believe they were on the same side, as a team. Then, at the reveal of the extent of Kokichi’s manipulation, that is all ripped painfully away again.

(post trial, chapter 4)

(post trial, chapter 4)

Even if these parts of trial 4 make my stomach turn, I don’t want to imply that Kokichi is completely cold-hearted and unfeeling. Actually, I think there were multiple moments in chapter 4 that show him struggling to regulate his emotions and keep face around everyone else while he enacted this plan.

1: I don’t think Kokichi initially planned to make the reveal that Gonta was the killer as dramatic (or frankly, a bit traumatic) as it ended up being. He had been carrying himself a certain way during the first half of the trial, and I think Shuichi lying to his face in front of everyone about Kokichi’s own alibi dramatically changed his attitude. I mean, Shuichi lied (as he had done almost every trial and gotten 0 flack for) and Tsumugi even called him out on it, but everyone believed him over Kokichi anyways. So when Kokichi lies, it’s completely inexcusable, even though he’s been working tirelessly on his own trying to save everyone?* But when SHUICHI lies, and gets caught in it, people go along with him? They don’t doubt their trust in him for even a second? This double standard infuriated him. It’s at this point that he completely shifts in energy. If Shuichi, no, everyone, is going to disrespect him like this, he was going to make them suffer for it.

(class trial, chapter 4)

2: Kokichi only goes full villain after Kaito says “Kokichi, If you really cared for Gonta, explain yourself to everyone” in the post trial. I think that even though he was always going to paint himself as the villain, he was legitimately affected by the things that had just happened (Gonta’s death, Miu’s attempted murder, the secret of the outside world, even if he knew it wasn’t real) and what he’d just done. Even if he was trying hard not to be. The sudden shift he has from not saying anything to cackling about how little he cared about Gonta feels to me like he was kicking himself back into gear after trying to process some genuinely difficult emotions. 3: After Kokichi punches Kaito down, and everyone completely ignores him in favour of helping Kaito up, Shuichi says these iconic words to Kokichi: “Kaito always has us by his side, see? But no one wants to be around you. / You’re alone, Kokichi. And you always will be.” Kokichi responds like this:

(Post-trial, chapter 4)

There’s something about the way he cuts himself off, pauses, and then his mask falls. I think Shuichi’s words got to him more than he wanted them to. Honestly, Kokichi’s attitude towards cooperation, keeping everyone at arm’s length, and insisting (to himself) that he (as a leader) must fix the killing game completely on his own just seems so lonely to me. Even if he is intentionally trying to alienate himself and get everyone to hate him, being so viscerally cut into like this must have hurt. Especially from someone he was trying to work to get onto his side. It’s no wonder he quickly left after this moment.

This is what I think drove Kokichi in chapter 4. He’s a leader who wants to “lead” his classmates into safety, but he isn’t afraid to use underhanded, cruel tactics if he thinks it will get him ahead in the game for the greater good. He viscerally represses his emotions in order to keep himself going and keep everyone else away from him. He tried to destroy Shuichi’s confidence and drive a wedge between him and Kaito to get him on his side for his plan. He used and made Gonta into a murderer to villainize himself and discourage everyone else from seeking the truth.

Whenever I imagine Kokichi on his own, out of the spotlight of the Audience or the eyes of his castmates, he’s never as expressive as he is in the open. I think in reality, Kokichi is a pretty depressed and lonely person. His clownish personality isn’t entirely a facade, and outside of a killing game scenario, I think he would act pretty similarly to how he does in game. But I do think that he uses it as a mask for his true emotions. While I feel like the “evil villain” persona is a genuine part of Kokichi’s personality, outside of the killing game he probably doesn’t act on it as deeply as he does in-game. I also think Kokichi struggles with letting people become close to him, even without anything on the line. The killing game just caused him to lean into these aspects of his personality hard, and in potentially the worst ways.

*I feel like here it’s important to mention that personally, I still think the collateral damage he caused in his attempts to stop the killing game matters. A lot. I don’t think he should be excused for the things he did, even if he had good intentions. This makes him a really interesting, morally grey character, and I like that about him. EDIT: I can't believe I have to add this, but please do not use this essay as ammunition for harassing people who ship ougoku… I don't agree with doing that at all. I hope I made it clear that I find Kokichi to be a complex character whose mistreatment of Gonta was never targeted, and more just an aspect how how he isolated himself and how he manipulated others to end the killing game, even if it caused suffering to them in the moment. Kokichi cares about everyone in the ultimate academy, in his own weird, detached way. He's not completely heartless nor is he an abusive monster. And even if none of that was the case, it's never an excuse to harass people for disagreeing with you. Please be cool!! Thanks <3

[darlingdaisyfarm]

what brothers are made of

a/n: heyy angels this is my first try at a fic without a reader! just exploring the brothers’ dynamic and their complicated relationship, hope you like the angst<3

tags: Stan and Ford, pre portal, angst

Ford’s the one who called. Ford’s the one who reached out with that damn postcard, asking for Stan’s help, and god, Stan wanted to believe. wanted to think that things could be different this time. maybe Ford really did need him, maybe this wasn’t another one of his schemes, his obsession with things that were so far beyond Stan that it made him dizzy just thinking about it.

but to his disappointment, when he gets here, when he stands face to face with his brother, all he sees is cold, logical desperation that makes him want to vomit. its the same thing that’s always been there, however, more paranoid than ever. Ford can’t stop himself from being consumed by his own mind and that’s exactly what’s gotten him here, hasn’t it?

Stanley wants to scream, wants to shake Ford, make him see. 

“responsibility? oh, that’s funny, coming from the guy who built a goddamn death machine in his basement and called me up to clean up his mess!”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about! this isn’t a ‘mess,’ Stanley. this is—”

“it’s bullshit!” Stan pulls the crumpled postcard from his pocket and flings it to the ground. “you didn’t call me here because you care about me. you never cared about me, sixer. you called me because you needed someone to hold your precious hand while you play god!”

“you’re so goddamn selfish,” Ford spits, shoving Stan toward the door. “you can’t stand the idea that i might actually accomplish something, can you?“

“fuck you, just fuck you! you think you’re better than me? you think this— this thing makes you better?”

“get out,” Ford says coldly, trying to hold his emotions. because that’s what Ford learned growing up, right? keep your feelings hidden. be the smart one, the quiet one. and when you need to, just get out of the room before you say something that can never be taken back. control, control, control.

because if he lets go, if he really opens up, he’ll have to confront everything. all of it. the hurt, the betrayal, the loneliness, the failure, his fears. and that’s a door Ford doesn’t want to open.

but if he did, Stan would see. Stanley would see how much Ford is drowning in his own guilt and fears, his desperation to fix things that can’t be fixed. Stan would see how badly Ford needs him, how much he needs them not as broken rivalry siblings they’ve become, but as the two kids they used to be, throwing their fists at the world together.

if Ford could let it out, he’d tell Stan how scared he’s been, he’d ask him to hug him and would cry into his shoulder. he’d tell him how every night he lies awake, torturing himself with the thought that maybe it was him, his own selfishness that led them to this. if he told Stan the truth, about Bill, he might just collapse under the weight of all the things he’s kept bottled up inside.

when Ford says "get out," what he's really saying is, "I don't know how to talk about this. I don't know how to say I need you, Stanley. I don’t know how to explain that the world I’ve built, all this knowledge I’ve gained, it all turned against me."

"you don’t mean that," Stanley says quietly. “i know you, Stanford. better than anyone. and i know that look in your eyes, you’re scared shitless. you don’t have a clue what you’re doing and instead of admitting it, you’re pushing me away. same as always."

the fight isn’t about the damn portal or journals, it never really was. it was never about science or alternate dimensions or any of the insane plans Ford dreamed up. it’s about them, about that gulf between them that’s grown so wide that Ford doesn’t even know where to begin. and when Stan gets too close, too loud, too angry, Ford pulls away because it’s a defense mechanism. his mind knows that if Stan touches that nerve, if Stan demands the truth, Ford will break. and he can’t let that happen.

when Ford was just a kid, staring out of their bedroom window, dreaming of galaxies and stars, their dad would look at him with proud eyes behind these glasses.

and the way their father looked at Stan, like a problem, that look burned into Stan’s soul. he pushed Stanley out of the house. and now even his own brother was doing the same thing. Stan hadn’t realised how much he still carried that hurt. hadn’t realised how much it still stung.

but Ford wasn’t his dad, he wasn’t the one who pushed Stan down, who told him he wasn’t worth anything. but then why when he looks at his twin, he sees Filbrick? because maybe, in the back of his mind, he is still that little boy, who was rejected and discarded. it’s not Ford, it’s their dad all over again. it’s the front door slamming shut in front of his face when Stan was too young.

you can’t do this to me. you can’t push me away like he did.

“you think you’re so fucking smart, but you don’t get it, do you? you don’t have to do this alone. you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. but no, you’re too goddamn proud to let anyone in.”

Stanley wants to laugh, but it’s not funny, it’s fucking sad because Ford’s voice isn’t even loud or angry, not like their dad’s had been. Ford’s tone is quiet, restrained, controlled. and somehow that makes it worse.

"what did I say, Stan Pines? keep your stance low. aim for the gut; it’s the easiest target."

maybe that’s why he fought. because this wasn’t about Ford trying to save the world, this was about Ford pushing Stan away again, like their dad did years ago. pushing him out when he was scared, when he needed Ford the most.

Stan fights like their dad taught him. Stan’s punch lands and it hurts more than it should, not because of the impact, but because of the look in Ford’s paranoid eyes. shock, betrayal, but not anger. no, Ford’s not angry. he’s just hurt and maybe scared. and Stan hates that look, hates that he put it there.

Stan wasn’t trying to win in this fight, not like in the old days, when their dad had taken him to boxing gym to teach him a lesson because there Stan fought for respect. for himself. he fought to make sure he wasn’t just another screw up, another worthless kid in his dad’s eyes. boxing was a way to prove he wasn’t weak. and it worked. for a while.

Stan hates it. he hates that they’re here, yelling at each other like they’re still kids, fighting over who got the top bunk or who spilled milk on ma’s favorite tablecloth.

it’s funny in a way, how much this feels like when they were kids. when Ford would retreat into himself, hiding behind his books, while Stanley tried to pull him out to make him see the world the way Stan did.

but the world Ford sees isn’t the same as Stan’s. it never has been. Ford sees logic, patterns, equations and stars. Stan sees chaos, opportunity, feelings and family. they’re opposites, two sides of the same coin, and no matter how hard they try, they just can’t seem to meet in the middle.

Ford’s shove sends Stan stumbling backward, out the door, into the snow and that's when everything collapses under the onslaught of cold, harsh reality. It’s not the physical shock Stan experiences or the pain of hitting the snow-covered ground. because Stan is used to feel physical pain.

it’s realisation.

Ford’s silhouette appears in the doorway, breathing heavily, before he slams it shut. 

the snow keeps falling, covering Stan like a blanket, the same way their mother sheltered him. his blood stains the ground beneath him, but he doesn’t move because he can’t. the fight’s gone out of him, leaving only exhaustion and a hollow ache where his anger used to be.

she’s there, in the warmth of his memories, her soft hands cupping his cheeks, brushing away tears. “oh, my sweet boys,” her voice always sounded like a lullaby. “you’ll always have each other, no matter what.”

Stanley remembers the way she’d pull them close, wrapping her arms around both of them, protecting her kids from the world. at first Ford would squirm, pretending he was too old for hugs, but Stan always clung tight, burying his face in her apron.

“look after each other, boys, promise me, you’ll always look after each other.”

Stan had promised. but promises are funny things. 

they’re easy to make when you’re young and hopeful, when the world hasn’t yet shown you how cruel it can be. they’re much harder to keep when everything falls apart.

a sob tears its way out of his chest and Stan lets it. he lets the snow take him, lets himself lay there like that, because he thinks he deserves this.

Ford’s face flashes in his mind, not angered face he just fought, but the younger one. the one who used to sneak into his bed at night, scared of thunderstorms. the one who used to build sandcastles with him at the beach, the one who always supported him

“i’m sorry, ma, i tried. i really tried.”

the snow keeps falling and Stan closes his eyes.

[winterrrnight]

HI BAE!!!!!!! CONGRATS ON 600!!! 🙌🏼💓💓

go on without me - 16 + 21 with rafe🤭🤭🤭🤭

ahh thank you so much sweet abi!! I'm so sorry it took me so long, I just wasn't feeling satisfied with what I was writing :( I hope you like reading this! but please feel free to not read this if you aren't comfortable w the warnings given :)

protective

PAIRING: toxic!dark!rafe cameron x gn! musician!reader

SUMMARY: rafe doesn’t like another man touching you, not even as much as talking to you or looking at you.

WARNINGS: dark content! minimal swearing, established relationship, slight use of nicknames like babe, jealousy, over protective & possessive rafe, canon!rafe, toxic!rafe, threats to kill, allusions to anxiety and being scared, and kinda shitty writing (??) (please please let me know if something should be added!!!!)

EDITH SPEAKS: this is very, very new for me. this is my third attempt at this fic, the first two just didn’t turn out how I wanted, and the best approach just felt like dark!rafe. this is me basically exploring my writing and trying out new things and testing myself, so if it’s not as good as the rest of stuff you may have read, I’m really sorry, I’m a beginner 😭😭

please please heed the warnings, and it may not be as dark as some other stuff on here, it felt pretty dark while writing, and if at any moment you feel this isn’t for you please feel free to click off.

moreover, if I am being honest here, you might have read a lot of rafe fics based on this idea/prompt. so please don't think I copied someone off for this, this is completely my own creation.

and if you liked this, please please share your feedback with me, and reblog it to support my content <3

PROMPTS REQUESTED: “Actually, we’re leaving. We have something to get to.” “No we don’t – oh, okay fine I’ll call you guys later.” & “You can’t just lose your temper like this each time you get a little upset!”

600 followers celebration (now closed!) || navigation

Everyone around you cheers out loud, glasses of champagne raised in the air as huge grins form on everyone’s faces. Your new single – after a break of over three years came out today, and you have already received an overwhelming amount of support. You’re in your studio, celebrating with your team and your amazing boyfriend.

“Congratulations babe,” Rafe smiles as he hugs you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You grin at him, hugging him back even tighter as you mumble a ‘thank you’.

You all celebrate for some more time, drinking fancy champagne, eating food, and taking pictures to savor the moment.

You, Rafe, and Jim, your producer, are just talking at the side when you hear your name being called. You turn to see it’s Saylor, who is one of the interns at the record label you are signed with. Your single was the first project he worked on.

“Yeah?” You ask, smiling as you approach him.

“Congratulations on the release,” he smiles, and gives you a small hug. You gladly hug him back, a grin on your face.

“Thank you Saylor,” you smile. “You were absolutely great for your first project,” you say. “I was actually asking Jim if you’d like to continue working for the upcoming singles too,”

Saylor’s lips are pulled in a huge grin as his eyes light up. “You’re serious right now?”

You chuckle as you nod your head. “Yes, of course! I would love for you to be able to gain as much experience as you can,”

Saylor absolutely can’t contain his excitement as he pulls you in for another hug. You are caught off guard but gladly hug back, chuckling a little as you do so.

“Thank you so much,” he smiles. “Seriously, it means a lot to me,” he says, a certain spark in his eyes.

“Of course, a talent like yours shouldn’t go to waste,” you say.

His smile doesn’t falter as he speaks again. “Can I get a picture with you, if that’s not an issue?”

“Oh of course not!” You say, turning to look at Rafe. “Rafe?” You call out.

He breaks from the conversation he was having with Jim and walks up to you. “Yeah babe?” Saylor passes him his phone and asks him to take a picture of you two.

Saylor stands next to you as his arm wraps around your waist, maybe a little too tighter than it should be but you don’t really say anything. However, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe, and he takes a sharp inhale when he sees Saylor’s side pressing more against you, as your arm rests around his shoulder.

Rafe tends to be… possessive, and you’ve always known that. Even when you both weren’t together, he wasn’t the biggest fan of how others would usually hit on you at parties, and would feel enraged when they wouldn’t let you go after you would politely ask to leave you alone.

But that possessiveness only increased when you both got together, when you officially became his girl. There’s nothing you can do about it, because that’s how Rafe is.

You can see the expression on Rafe’s face; the subtle ticking of his jaw, the acute twitching of his eye – you’ve known him long enough to identify his facial expressions just the second they appear. You are quick to remove your arm from Saylor’s shoulder, your arm now resting on your side, but Saylor doesn’t seem to catch on that; instead his grip on your waist tightens a bit, because he most probably wants you to wrap your arm around his shoulders again.

Nevertheless, Rafe takes the picture, and hands Saylor’s phone back. Saylor takes a few seconds before he lets go of you, which only happened because you gently removed yourself from his grip. You quickly appear at Rafe’s side and intertwine your hands, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Thank you for the picture,” Saylor smiles as he looks at the phone screen. All you say is ‘welcome’ with a small smile, and Rafe pulls you to a different part of the studio.

As the small party carries on, Saylor makes subtle moves – or moves which he thinks are subtle, but aren’t missed by Rafe at all. It’s Rafe’s last straw when Saylor gently grips your waist to move past you, saying a ‘sorry’ as he walks by. At that very moment, you decide it’s best if you talk to Saylor about it yourself, tell him that you know what he’s doing, and you clearly have a boyfriend. But before you can do that, Rafe’s arm wraps quickly around your waist, and his grip is tight.

Jim says something about going to a nice nearby restaurant for dinner, but Rafe cuts him off. “Actually, we’re leaving. We have something to get to.” He says firmly. You look at him with a slightly confused expression, thinking if you both do have any other appointments today or not, but your mind is blank.

“No we don’t –,” you say, but Rafe snaps his head at you, his jaw muscles tense, and your eyes slightly widen at the sight as you catch up in the fraction of a second. “Oh, okay fine I’ll call you guys later.”

Rafe leads you out of the studio, and you barely save your half full glass of champagne from falling off the table you’re trying to keep it at as he ushers you out. He opens the door of his truck for you and as you sit down, he slams it a little too harshly than usual. He walks around the truck and sits down next to you, his grip tight on the steering wheel as he starts to drive.

You take a deep breath as you lean back in the chair. This is not the first time this is happening, and you know it’s certainly not the last. You aren’t scared because you already know how this entire situation plays out. He will raise his voice at you, say stuff like how you’re his and only his, how he absolutely hates other guys looking at you a certain way because he just can’t bear the sight, and how he gives you the best treatment you can get.

You’re just silently listening to the soft music from the radio as you look out the window. You steal a glance at Rafe and see his jaw is still tightened, his grip tight on the wheel.

“Relax your jaw Rafe,” you say plainly, turning to look back out the window. You hear him take a sharp breath.

“I did not like how he was looking at you and holding you,” he utters.

You just roll your eyes at him, as if you knew that’s exactly what he was going to say. “It was just a picture Rafe, you don’t have to be so protective about that,” you say.

Rafe snaps his head towards you, but quickly turns back to look at the road. “Just a picture?” He echoes. “So you’re telling me you loved the way he was holding your waist hm?”

“Oh god when did I say that!” You retort. “And besides, did you not see? I literally removed my hand off his shoulders the instant you saw it, and moved away from him the moment you took the picture. There’s no need for you to get so worked up!”

You can see Rafe’s chest heaving as he takes rapid breaths, his jaw ticking as you can literally see a thunderstorm brewing up in him.

“You can’t just lose your temper like this each time you get a little upset!” You say exasperatedly. “You shouldn’t have been upset in the first place because there’s literally nothing to be upset about!”

Just the second those words leave your mouth, he bellows your name causing you to shut up right that moment. “Shut up!” He yells, smacking his palm against the steering wheel once. You feel the truck speed up, his foot pressing harder against the accelerator. You glance at the speedometer and see the needle pointing to larger numbers more and more with each passing second.

“Rafe-” you mumble out but you are cut off the very next instant.

“You just refuse to see it huh?” He hissed. “You refuse to see how I am the best for you. How I can, how I do treat you better than anyone else,” he goes on, and he uses his free hand to gesture around in the air.

“Get this in your head okay?” He speaks, his voice now eerily low as he gestures to his head, tapping his fingertips at his temple. “I never, ever want you as much as looking at someone else, you got that?”

You can feel the truck speeding up more. Your hands are clutching the sides of your seat, as your nails dig into the leather. Your lips are parted as you let out shaky breaths, your eyes wide and shiny with the layer of tears that have formed over them.

You thought you had seen the worst. Which was him arguing with you and telling you he’s the best for you. But right now, when his foot only seems to be pressing more and more against the gas pedal, your back pushed back against the seat due to the fast speed of the truck, you realize there’s a hidden side to Rafe you’ve never seen before.

“Rafe I-”

“Say it!” He yells, cutting you off swiftly. “Say it, that you won’t even look at anyone else!”

“Rafe please-” you mumble out, squeezing your eyes shut as hot tears flow down your face, leaving a sticky trail as they go down.

“Say it before I crash this truck in a fucking tree!”

His breathing is heavy, his eyes are wide, and you can’t recognise him anymore. His eyes are an icy blue instead of the usual dark blue you get lost in so easily, and that’s the moment you realize Rafe will never ever let you exercise any control over him. Ever.

“I-” you hiccup, “I won’t look at anyone else, okay?” You gasp, gulping down the lump in your throat as the tears keep on streaming down.

When you don’t feel Rafe slow down the truck, the seatbelt starting to dig into your neck harshly and your grip on the seat gets harder, your breathing gets more erratic as you try to gather more air to speak up again.

“Rafe, baby, please please slow down I…” you whisper, looking at him desperately.

You expect him to lash out, but he doesn’t, and the truck starts to slow down, coming at a normal pace. You move a shaky hand to your face, running your fingers across your skin to wipe off your tears, but your breath keeps on coming out in short gasps, and you feel yourself tremble a little; your heart loud in your chest.

The truck slows down more and more, and you see Rafe has parked it at the side of the road. The truck comes to a full stop, and you turn to look at Rafe through your still slightly blurry vision, your eyes now red, and panic being the only feeling clouding your mind.

Rafe rests his forehead against the steering wheel, taking in a deep breath. His grip on the wheel loosens a bit, the knuckles not so white anymore as their color flushes back. He lifts his head from the wheel and turns to look back at you, his eyes now not so icy, but still not the comforting warm blue you’ve always loved and adored.

A smile tugs on his lips, and it’s not the kind which always warms you up the moment you look at it, but it’s… sinister. It’s a smile you’ve never seen before. It’s the kind of smile that shows that he is enjoying seeing you this way. Seeing you so weak under his control.

He moves his hands to your face, brushing any loose strands off your slightly sticky face and gently running his fingers across your cheeks.

“Now baby,” he says softly, but the softness doesn’t comfort you – no. It scares you even more. “You made that a little too hard didn’t you, hm? Next time when I ask you to do something, just do it, okay? Don’t have time to wait, or- or to see how you react m’kay? Just… agree to what I say. It’s not as hard as you may think,”

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, but at that moment, all you want to do is to scrunch up into a ball and be far, far away from him and his cold, unknown touch.

Your breathing fastens up, but all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes, wondering where did that sweet, loving boyfriend of yours go and got replaced by this?

When he sees you aren’t arguing back, his menacing grin only widens, and he takes his hands off you, turning to start up the truck again and continue to drive – as if absolutely nothing happened.

A hand rests on your thigh, softly rubbing the skin through the material of your pants, but you’re too afraid to even slightly move under the touch. It’s cold, it sends shivers down your spine, and you don’t know who’s hand it is.

If only someone could stop and tell you that you had lost your ‘loving’ boyfriend forever.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[slutdilf]

After all this time

Paring: Chris evans x male reader

Warnings: none just a fluff fic

Note: writing this gave me an idea to potentially make a part 2 to this maybe I don’t know

Requested by anonymous: Hello, I really like how you write, if possible, could you do one of Chris Evans x male reader where Chris meets the reader, they were friends from those old years in Boston but they lost contact due to Chris's career, where the reader felt things for him (and he still does), but they never confessed until that reunion? I leave the reason for the reunion to your choice, as well as whether you leave it in fluff or in smut.

it was late at night and you were scrolling through your phone on instagram. when you suddenly got a memory notification when you clicked you saw a picture of you and another slightly taller and handsome man, right off the bat you knew who it was your best friend, Chris Evans. Chris and you had been friends for a long time, you grew up together in the lively streets of the American neighborhood in Boston. You had shared countless memories exploring the city, cheering on the Red Sox, and dreaming of their future. Chris was the charming and athletic one, always the life of the group, and everyone thought he was destined for great things. you on the other hand, were quieter and more thoughtful, often appreciating Chris's infectious energy but never quite feeling like you measured up. Seeing the photo it rose a feeling you’d long forgotten. A flicker of a smile on your lips as you realise just how much of a crush you’d had on Chris. through time you and Chris had slowly lost contract as Chris became more and more involved in his career. You went from talking to almost every day to talking to every few months and slowly to almost never talking. You felt the pang of guilt in your heart for not being so direct with Chris and confessing your feelings to him. you doubt he’d even recognise you if you’d meet him again.

You were about to swipe away when you suddenly saw a follow notification on Instagram. It was Chris, he had followed you. You couldn’t believe it. Your heart was beating so fast you felt it would burst out of your chest and your mind was racing with a thousand thoughts. Without thinking you quickly opened up his page in a daze. The first thing you noticed was the number of followers he had, of course he did he was a freaking celebrity now. You’d seen so many of his projects and you knew how talented he was. The second thing you realised when you saw his most recent photo was that he had not changed a bit, still as handsome as ever.

The realisation of that fact made you pause, you hadn’t spoken in so long. Why would he follow you? The feeling of excitement mixed with fear was overwhelming but you also couldn’t help that feeling of hope growing inside you. Maybe he felt the same way you did. It was stupid to even hope for it. He was a celebrity, he could have anyone he wanted, why would he want you? you quickly shook your head clearing these thoughts from your head, your heart just hurt.

Your phone suddenly vibrated, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a notification from Chris. A message. You stared at the screen in disbelief for a moment and with a deep breath you opened up the message. Your heart skipped a beat as soon as you saw the words “Hey it’s me Chris. Can’t believe it’s been years since that photo” a smile went across your face he got the same notification of the memory of you both as well He had found you again. You typed back with shaky fingers.

You: “Hey, Chris, it’s been a while” you replied, hoping your heart rate would return to normal.

Chris: “I know, too long. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get in touch.”

You tried to think of something witty to say but your mind was blank. You had always been the quieter one among you two and talking to him now made you feel like a teenager again.

You: “I’ve always wanted to reach out and catch up” you admitted.

Chris: “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. It’s just been crazy, you know?”

You: “Yeah, I understand, the whole practically knows you at this point.”

There were so many things you wanted to say, so many questions you wanted to ask. But it felt like there was an invisible barrier between you and him, all these thoughts and feelings held back by a wall of insecurity.

Chris: “well they know of me. They don’t know me not like you did…..I’m glad I found you again”

His simple words hit you unexpectedly. You could feel his sincerity through the screen, the connection that hadn’t faded after all these years. You tried to keep your cool.

You: “Same here, I’ve missed you.”

Chris: “Me too.”

The conversation was flowing so easily, but deep down you wanted it to be more. You knew you needed to tell him how you felt, you couldn’t go through life wondering what if.

Suddenly another message from him popped up.

Chris: “We should meet up, talk in person.”

Your heart was racing again. You couldn’t believe he wanted to see you, but you couldn’t deny the excitement you suddenly felt.

You: “That sounds great, when?”

Chris: “I’m actually in town at the moment. our college is having a a reunion this weekend. I was debating on whether or not to go ”

Your eyes widened at the message, he was here in the city? You didn’t even think you’d be able to see him today and he was already in town.

You: “Really? I barely even know of the reunion”

You couldn’t keep the eagerness out of your voice.

Chris: “Well now you do. And you should go, it could be fun. Imagine all those old memories.”

There was something about the way he said “old memories” that made your heart flutter.

You: “You’re right, it could be fun. but I’ve not exactly achieved much in the years. unlike you where you’ve practically become a massive actor”

It could be a chance. A chance to finally confront the feelings you’d shoved down so long ago.

Chris: “Come on you don’t sell yourself short. I’m pretty sure that’s the same thing you said even back in high school”

He remembered that? You couldn’t help smiling at the thought that he had paid that much attention to you. Chris had always been kind, but there was something different about the way he was talking to you now. Like he cared more.

Chris: “Promise me you’ll go to the reunion.”

He was being relentless, he clearly wanted you to be there.

You: “Okay okay I’ll go, I forgot how you can be pretty demanding”

You teased, it was a natural response after all the years of banter and friendly teasing.

Chris: “Hey, you loved my persistence.”

That message made you pause. It was just harmless banter but it brought back a thousand memories. Memories of you two hanging out in the streets of Boston, your late night walks, or the quiet moments of comfort when you were both tired and stressed. He was right you loved his persistence. A part of you always had. And still does.

Chris: “Can’t wait to see you again”

Your heart was beating rapidly at those words. You were finally going to see him after all these years. You felt like a high school student again.

You: “See you there”

And with that, the conversation had ended. You set your phone down, trying to process everything that just happened. Chris had found you and now you were going to see him again. All the feelings you’d buried so long ago were starting to flood back. You couldn’t help it, something was stirring in your chest, a mixture of excitement and anxiety. But you couldn’t deny you were looking forward to it. Time seemed to crawl by after that, your mind fixated on the upcoming reunion.

Finally the day of the reunion arrived. You were nervous as hell, but also couldn’t help the small spark of excitement that was in your chest. You got ready quickly, not wanting to give yourself the time to doubt yourself. You chose your clothes carefully, you wanted to look nice. The thought of seeing Chris again made you want to look your best. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath before heading out.

The reunion was set to take place in your old college’s courtyard. When you arrived, you noticed people had already begun to gather. People you hadn’t seen in years and others you thought you had long forgotten. As you walked in, you couldn’t help but scan the crowd nervously, looking for one familiar face.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally spotted him. Standing at the far end of the courtyard was Chris. The years had only enhanced his natural good looks and the air of fame followed him like a shadow. He was surrounded by a group of people, talking and laughing. You stood there, unnoticed, feeling like a teen all over again.

Chris suddenly looked up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes landed on you and a smile broke across his face. He said a few quick words to his group before he started walking towards you.

Every step he took made your heart beat faster. He had noticed you, the way he had smiled made your knees weak. As he got closer, you tried to sound casual but you couldn’t keep the slight tremor from your voice.

“Hey, you actually came” He greeted you, that same infectious smile on his face.

“Yeah, I said I would” you tried to sound indifferent but your voice was betraying you. You looked up at him, and for a moment it felt like time had stopped. The years apart seemed to fade away, and it was just you and him, standing there in the middle of the courtyard.

Chris looked at you, his eyes studying you intently. “You look good” he said finally, a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t place.

“You don’t look too bad yourself” you managed to respond, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest.

Something about the way he was looking at you made you feel shy. It was different from before. But before you could speak again, he was looking around.

“Come on, I want to show you something”

he said, taking your hand in his. The gesture caught you off guard, but you were too flustered to object as he led you through the crowd.

He guided you through the crowds, his hand around yours. The contact of his skin against yours sent jolts of electricity through you, bringing back a flood of memories of your childhood together. You tried to focus on anything but the feeling of his hand holding onto yours but you were hyper aware of every little thing. As he pulled you along, you couldn’t help but feel like you were following a familiar path.

You realised quickly where he was leading you. It was to the spot you two used to spend a lot of time in. It was a quiet bench, away from the hustle and bustle of the campus.

When you were younger, it was often this spot that you and him would escape to. Sometimes simply to talk away from the others and hang out. it became a nostalgic spot. memories rushing in your head as you thought about all the stuff you’d talked about sitting on the chair and just rambling about crushes, dreams, fears and the things you wanted to do.

He stopped, gesturing for you to sit on the bench beside him.

You sat down next to him, the cool air of the evening bringing back waves of memories. You were acutely aware of the way he was looking at you, a small smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you remembered this place” you said, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was racing.

"Of course I remembered.” He chuckled, looking around. “How could I forget? We practically lived here during our school days.”

There was something in the way he looked at the spot, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. It was as if he was reliving the memories just as vividly as you were.

The silence that followed was comfortable, as if the years apart hadn’t diminished the connection you had. He leaned back, resting his arms on the backrest of the bench, his hand nearly touching your arm.

“Remember how we used to talk for hours here?” he broke the silence, his gaze still on the scenery around.

You smiled faintly at his question. Those memories were some of your most treasured. Many nights spent sitting on this very bench, talking about dreams and ambitions, hopes and fears.

“How could I forget?” You replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "We talked so long our voices always hurt the next morning”

He laughed heartily at that. "Yeah, those were some good times."

He finally looked at you, that warm smile still on his face.

"Seems like you remember all of it,” he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

You tried not to show how his smile affected you, nodding slightly.

“Of course I do. I could never forget any of it.” Your voice lowered instinctively, the sincerity coming through.

His smile softened at your words, a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t place. He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words, before speaking again.

“You know, those memories here... they mean a lot to me. And part of me was hoping you'd be here tonight.”

You were so stunned by his words that you forgot to breathe for a moment. Part of him was hoping you’d be here? Your heart was in your throat now, the air was crackling with tension.

"And why’s that?" You managed to get out, your voice betraying your nervous excitement.

His hand shifted on the bench, his fingers lightly brushing against your sleeve. "Because you’ve always been important to me."

He was looking at you intently, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was almost like a confession, but his eyes held more than just simple friendship.

Your heart leaped into your throat. His words, the way he was looking at you. Could it be..

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. “I-“

The words got stuck in your throat and you couldn’t get them out. A part of you wanted to say everything you felt, to finally confess after all these years, but the fear of rejection was holding you back.

Chris noticed your hesitation, his gaze now questioning but not leaving you. He moved subtly closer, his hand now gently wrapped around your shoulder, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

The feeling of his touch was both comforting and overwhelming. You looked up at him, the feelings you’d suppressed for so long bubbling inside you.

"No, it’s just-" you paused, looking down. "There’s something I need to tell you."

You braced yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. This was your chance, now or never.

He seemed to sense the seriousness in your voice, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "What is it?"

He looked slightly worried now, his eyes locked on yours. The silence between you was almost deafening.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. This was it. No more holding back.

"Chris, I-" the words got stuck in your throat again.

The feelings you’d kept hidden for so long were finally bubbling over, and the thought of rejection was scarier than anything, but you had to force the words out.

"I've always-“ you inhaled, gathering your courage. “I've always had feelings for you.”

The words hung in the air, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t dare look at his face, suddenly regretting the confession.

There was a silence that lasted for what felt like an eternity. And just as you started to fear the worst, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You have?”

You nodded hesitantly, looking up at him. He was staring back at you, his eyes wide and something like wonder there. There was something unreadable in his expression, a mix of emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. But he was still listening.

"Ever since high school," you admitted. “I never had the courage to tell you.”

He was still silent, processing your confession. But instead of the rejection you feared, he looked more like he was in shock.

"Ever since high school..?"

The question seemed to be more to himself than you, but you nodded again, the weight of the secret finally lifted from you.

He looked at you for a moment longer, his hand still on your shoulder. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

His laughter caught you off guard. You had been fully expecting denial or dismissal, but his laugh wasn’t mocking. It sounded like he was in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe what you’d told him.

You watched him, confusion written all over your face. “Why are you laughing?” You finally asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable

He shook his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just..”

He trailed off, taking a deep breath before meeting your gaze again. He looked almost amused, a hint of disbelief still on his face.

"Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

His question caught you off guard. “Wait, what?”

You stared at him, not quite understanding what he meant. Had he been waiting for you to confess? The thought seemed impossible.

But he was looking at you intently, his hand still on your shoulder, a faint smile on his lips. He was serious.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years,” he repeated, his eyes never leaving yours.

His confession hit you like a truck. For years? He’d been feeling the same way but never said anything? You were completely stunned.

"You.. you’ve felt the same way all this time?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled faintly, giving you a gentle nod. “For as long as you did, I’d imagine. You just finally said it first.”

You were still trying to process his words. The fact that he had feelings for you this entire time was almost too much to grasp.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

He chuckled lightly, his hand subconsciously tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Probably the same reason you didn’t. Didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

His thumb was now tracing the outline of your collarbone. The gesture wasn’t sexual, more thoughtful and absentminded.

His touch was sending tingles down your spine. Hearing that he’d been worried about ruining the friendship made your heart flutter. The realisation that all the feelings you’d pushed down had been mutual for all this time was overwhelming.

“So then, what now?” you finally asked, your voice betraying the mixture of emotions within you.

His fingers curled around your shoulder, gently drawing you closer to him.

“What do you want to do?” he replied.

You didn’t need to think about the answer. You looked up at him, your body now almost touching his.

“I want this,” you answered breathlessly.

His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but you could sense the hint of longing in it.

You nodded, your heart racing in your chest. “I’m sure,” you said, feeling his fingers on your skin. “I want you.”

He pulled you closer to him, his hand now on your lower back. The distance between you was gone. He looked at you, his eyes burning with an intensity you’d never seen before.

“your sure?.” He spoke, his voice low. “it’s gonna be intense. there’s gonna headlines. flashing paparazzi cameras every time we go out. travelling the world with me to film.”

You looked up at him, the warnings in his voice clear. He was right, being with him was dangerous. It would change your life.

But at that moment, you realised you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about the possible trouble, the headlines or the cameras. All you knew was that you wanted him, and you wanted everything with him.

“I’m sure” you repeated firmly, your voice filled with determination. “I want everything with you.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes now sparkling with a mixture of surprise and excitement.

He raised his hand slowly to your face, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw before cupping your chin. He leaned in towards you, his breath warm against your skin.

“then I’m not letting you go” he said, his voice low. “not after all this time.”

The words sent a shiver through you, his breath against your skin making you weak.

"You better not," you replied, your voice soft but filled with conviction.

He chuckled lightly, his hand still holding your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

"Don’t worry, I won’t," he said, his voice filled with promise.

With that, he leaned in closer, his lips finally meeting yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was testing the waters. But something clicked inside both of you, years of suppressed feelings and denied affection finally bubbling over.

The kiss quickly grew more passionate, his hand moving from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer to him.

The feeling of his lips against yours was electric, a wave of emotions crashing over you. Your hands moved of their own accord, grabbing the front of shirt, pulling him closer while desperately kissing him back.

He responded enthusiastically, his hands holding you tightly against him, the kiss getting more and more heated with each passing moment.

His tongue teased at your lips, asking for entry, and you let him in without hesitating. The kiss grew more intense, his hands moving to slide through your hair, his actions now filled with a hunger that you reciprocated.

It was all-consuming, years worth of suppressed feelings finally bursting free.

His arms were around you now, holding you tightly against his chest. One of his hands was tangled in your hair, the other was caressing your back, his long fingers drawing small circles on your spine.

The kiss was deep and searing, a tangle of lips and tongues, filled with years of pent-up desire. It was like coming home. You both pulled back to catch your breath your forehead pressed against his.

He looked at you, his breath ragged, his eyes darkened with a mix of passion and something akin to awe.

"Why-" he said between breaths, his hand still tangled in your hair. "Why the hell didn’t we do that years ago?”

You laughed, your own breaths still ragged, your heart racing in your chest. You placed a hand gently on his cheek, running your thumb over his lips.

"We were stupid" you whispered, a smile on your lips. "All those years, all the time wasted."

He chuckled, leaning into your touch. “I could have been kissing you for years and you had to go and wait so long.”

He moved a hand to your cheek, mirroring your gesture as he traced your features with his thumb. His touch was gentle, almost reverent.

"Still, it’s better late than never." He added, a hint of a smile on his lips. you put your head on his shoulder. his hand around you waist. As you cuddled on the bench together watching the sunset. your heart racing at a speed you couldn’t even comprehend. You’d finally gotten the man of your dreams. The man you wanted for so long. almost instinctively you nuzzle your head into his neck and you say the words “I love you.”

He froze for a moment at your words, the atmosphere becoming even more intimate. It was silent for a moment, before he spoke, his voice a soft whisper in your ear.

"I love you too."

His words were simple, but they sent a rush of warmth through your body. He held you tighter, his chin resting on your head. The world around you almost faded away, the only thing that matter was the two of you now.