#and I don’t think they care at all who lets them do that

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

taglist:

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@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[girl-lostconnection]

YOUR FRUIT BAT READER HAS MY WHOLE HEART 😩😭🫶🏻 any more thoughts to spare… no pressure tho i absolutely adore your writing <333

- @beloveds-embrace

For @beloveds-embrace. Some not the most appropriate thoughts about Price and Reader for you, friend

I’m thinking about fruit bat!Reader x Komodo Dragon!Price whom it takes some time to get to their core.

Price who’s uncharacteristically careful, feeling like a right twat after realising he doesn’t know much about their new addition to his team. New addition to his boys.

Price returns to your file and starts noting what can he do to do better. It’s not proper for a leader to know this little about their subordinate. It’s not proper for the leader of the pack not to welcome you like he should’ve.

Price who starts taking fruits during breakfast just to pawn them off to you a minute later, rumbling that he forgot he can’t eat this much.

(The man does it every bloody morning, does he think he’s actually sneaky with that?)

But no one says anything and he hums in satisfaction when you gobble down an orange or an apple he gives to you. Lizard part of his brain pleased to see you fed and happy with his offering.

Lizard part of his brain has already switched to proper courting without him catching up on it up until he finds himself massaging the nape of your neck.

Fingers digging into tense muscle, fingers sliding lower to the base of your wings, to the additional back muscles only you and Kyle have. He knows these are the places you can hardly reach yourself.

He knows that it’s usually reserved for pack to touch there — too vulnerable of a place, too easy for someone of his size to tear out the tender thin wing off your back.

But you don’t move away, deliberately not looking at him. Like if you pretend he’s not there you won’t need to explain why you are letting him this close.

Price hums massaging your back, warm palms sending shivers all over your body, your ears burning when he leans forward, beard tickling your neck.

He’s close enough to bite down. Close enough to close his jaws around inviting slope of your neck, to force you down.

But he doesn’t. There is no need for this.

You are not growling Simon, you are not cheeky stubborn Soap, you aren’t even Kyle with his habit to test waters until John pulls him under it.

You are you.

John presses small, soft kiss behind your ear, fingers tracing the skin of your wings, fingers melting you into nothing.

“Tha’ okay, love?”, he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your neck, his smile wide wicked thing full of teeth when you give him a shaky nod.

“Can’t hear you, sweetheart”, John is not used to this but he finds he rather likes to have a pretty bat like you being this good for him. Such a sweet little soldier, making his mind hazy with want to lick all over you.

Leaving saliva and his scent, marking you proper. Not right that you don’t smell like them yet.

John pulls you in, cradling in his hands, eyes warm and heavy. Komodo dragons fight to prove they are worthy of being at the top. Komodo dragons need to know that they deserve what they have.

John knows that for now he didn’t prove that he deserves you, your trust, your bond.

That’s alright. Just means he will need to put in some much needed hard work.

John presses his face to your neck and breathes in, smiling when your wings give him a small flutter. Sensitive little thing.

“Come on, love. Think I saw some mangoes dropped in with re-supply . Gonna have a feast today”, he grumbles, eyes crinkling with pleasure when your eyes light up.

Yeah, both of you will feast alright.

[multific]

Of Dog Tags and Love Letters

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon Riley never says “I love you” out loud. Instead, he writes letters, letters you were never meant to find.

Simon wasn’t the kind of man who said “I love you” easily.

He showed it instead.

He showed it in the way he pulled you close at night, in the way his hand always rested on the small of your back in public, in the way he made sure you always walked on the safer inside of the sidewalk.

His love wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was steady, always there.

Still, you wanted to hear it.

Just once.

Just once you wanted to hear him say it.

Simon had been gone on a mission for a few weeks.

You missed him, missed the way the house felt different when he was home.

Tonight, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

That’s what led you to the room, sitting on the bed, fidgeting with his dog tags.

That’s when you found them.

A small metal box, tucked away beneath an old shirt. You were trying to find a shirt which still smelled like him.

Inside the box, there were letters.

Dozens of them, all folded neatly, your name written on each one.

Your stomach flipped as you picked one up, your fingers shaking slightly as you unfolded the paper.

The handwriting was rough and rushed.

But it was undeniably his.

If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.

Your breathing stopped, but you kept reading.

I don’t say things the way I should. Never have. But you should know… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the reason I want to come back in one piece. If I don’t... just know that I love you. Always have, always will.

Your chest ached as you grabbed another letter.

It was the same.

So was the next.

You looked at the dates. Every letter is written before a mission.

Every single one, carrying the words he never said to your face.

I love you.

All of them, filled with meaning and care. All of them are written from the heart.

You pressed them to your chest, blinking back tears.

Three days later, he was home.

The second he walked through the door, you didn’t wait. You crashed into him, arms wrapped tight around his middle.

He let out a small grunt of surprise. “What’s all this then?”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He huffed a quiet laugh, arms circling around you. “Good to see you too, Love.”

You pulled back, searching his tired eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Simon’s body tensed. “Tell you what?”

You lifted your chin. “About the letters.”

His whole body went still.

“…You found them.” His voice was quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah. And I had to find out from some scraps of paper that you truly love me?”

His jaw flexed like he was bracing for something. “I didn’t think I’d ever—” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not easy for me.”

“I don’t care if it’s easy,” you shot back, stepping closer to him. “Do you think this is easy for me? Waiting? Wondering if you’ll come home?” Your voice cracked. “Wondering if I’ll ever get to tell you—”

You stopped yourself, swallowing hard.

Simon’s eyes softened. “Tell me what?”

You exhaled. “That I love you too, you idiot.”

His breath hitched.

Then, before you could say anything else, he cupped your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours. His touch was warm, and grounding.

“Say it again,” he whispered, begged.

A smile tugged at your lips. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I love you.”

His eyes closed, and he let out a slow breath like he was letting himself believe it. When he spoke again, his voice was deep, barely above a whisper.

“I love you too.”

And this time, he didn’t need a letter to say it.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[jiminomenon]

assistant! reader going viral and capturing the attention of model! karina’s fans

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 843

summary: when karina posts a mirror selfie, y/n unintentionally steals the spotlight, sparking a viral reaction. as fans focus on her assistant, karina struggles with unexpected feelings of possessiveness and jealousy.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it all started with a selfie.

jimin had been in one of her moods, insisting on taking the perfect photo for her instagram. “y/n, set up my phone,” she said, handing over the device. “i want a mirror selfie, and make sure you get my good side.”

y/n, who had long since mastered the art of dealing with jimin’s diva moments, sighed but obediently propped the phone up on a nearby shelf, angling it toward the full-length mirror in jimin’s dressing room. “your good side is literally every side, jimin. just smile already.”

jimin pouted but struck a pose, her perfectly styled hair catching the sunlight. as the timer counted down, y/n stepped into the frame to adjust the angle, her unimpressed expression clearly visible in the mirror behind jimin.

“let me see,” jimin said, grabbing the phone. she frowned at the photo. “ugh, you ruined it! delete it and take another one.”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. she assumed that was the end of it—until the next morning, when she woke up to a flood of notifications on her phone.

“what the…?” y/n muttered, scrolling through her social media. her inbox was full of messages, and her follower count had skyrocketed overnight.

“good morning, sleeping beauty,” jimin said, sauntering into the kitchen with princess in her arms. “why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“did you… post that photo?” y/n asked, holding up her phone.

jimin blinked innocently. “which photo?”

“the one where i’m in the background!” y/n said, turning the screen to show her. the photo had gone viral, with thousands of comments and likes. most of them were about y/n.

who’s the assistant?? she’s so pretty!

karina’s assistant is stealing the show 😍

someone get this girl a modeling contract!

jimin’s smile faltered for a split second before she shrugged. “oh, that one. i didn’t think anyone would notice you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “really? because it looks like everyone noticed me.”

as the day went on, the comments kept pouring in. fans were obsessed with y/n, dubbing her “karina’s pretty assistant” and even creating fan accounts dedicated to her.

jimin, meanwhile, was not handling it well.

“why are they so obsessed with you?” she grumbled, scrolling through the comments during a break in her photoshoot. “you’re not even doing anything in the photo.”

y/n smirked. “maybe they just have good taste.”

jimin glared at her. “this is my instagram. they’re supposed to be talking about me.”

“well, maybe next time you should make sure i’m not in the photo,” y/n said, clearly enjoying jimin’s frustration.

by the time they got home, jimin was in full denial mode. “it’s not that i care,” she said, flopping onto the couch. “i just don’t understand why they’re so interested in you.”

“maybe they think i’m cute,” y/n said, shrugging.

jimin’s eyes narrowed. “you’re not that cute.”

y/n laughed. “says the person who’s been sulking all day because i’m getting more attention than you.”

“i’m not sulking!” jimin protested, crossing her arms. “i just don’t like sharing the spotlight.”

“uh-huh,” y/n said, clearly not convinced.

later that night, jimin found herself scrolling through the comments again. she told herself it was just curiosity, but deep down, she knew it was more than that.

the truth was, jimin didn’t like the idea of y/n being in the spotlight—not because she was jealous of the attention, but because she didn’t want to share her with the world. y/n was hers. her assistant, her confidant, her… well, she wasn’t sure what else, but she knew she didn’t want anyone else to have her.

“stupid comments,” she muttered, tossing her phone aside.

“still obsessing over that photo?” y/n asked, walking into the room with a cup of tea.

“no,” jimin said quickly. “i just… don’t like people assuming things about you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “like what?”

“like… that you’re available,” jimin said, her cheeks turning pink. “or that they can just… have you.”

y/n blinked, surprised by the intensity in jimin’s voice. “jimin, are you… jealous?”

“no!” jimin said, too quickly. “i just… you’re my assistant. that’s all.”

y/n smiled, setting down her tea. “you know, for someone who’s not jealous, you’re acting pretty possessive.”

jimin opened her mouth to argue but stopped when y/n sat down next to her. “look,” y/n said softly. “you don’t have to worry. i’m not going anywhere.”

jimin looked at her, her expression softening. “promise?”

“promise,” y/n said, smiling.

the next day, jimin posted another photo—this time, a selfie with y/n clearly in the frame, smiling this time. the caption read: “my assistant. hands off.”

the comments exploded all over again, but this time, jimin didn’t mind. after all, she’d made her point.

y/n rolled her eyes when she saw the post but couldn’t help smiling. “you’re such a drama queen, jimin.”

“maybe,” jimin said, smirking. “but you’re still mine.”

[aakeysmash]

Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

[itneverendshere]

lucky strike - brother bsf! rafe (blurb)

pairing: kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: none, fluff, flirting, yearning

The party was supposed to be fun. Emphasis on supposed to be.

Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill,” throwing out all his usual excuses—“It’ll be fun, you never go out, and besides, you know everyone there”—but you should’ve known better.

Now you were stuck in a house full of drunk college students, loud music, and—worst of all—a guy who wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’d introduced himself as Jake—or maybe it was Jack; you didn’t care—and you’d been polite at first. A quick smile, a couple of sentences before excusing yourself. But he didn’t get the hint. 

He was following you around like a lost puppy, trying to impress you with stories about his car and his “networking connections,” whatever the hell that meant. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jake was saying now, his voice raised to compete with the music. “They’re starting me at, like, six figures. But, you know, I told them I’d think about it.”

You sipped your drink to keep from rolling your eyes. “Wow, that’s… something.”

“So, anyway,” he was saying as you edged toward the hallway, “if you ever want to, like, grab dinner or something, I know a great spot. And If you ever want to come down to Florida, I could totally show you around. Take you out on my boat.”

You nodded absently, scanning the room for an excuse, but your brother was nowhere in sight, and every doorway seemed blocked by a crowd.

“You and me? A weekend getaway?”

You froze, brainstorming for an excuse. “Oh, uh—”

Then you saw him in all his glory, Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against the wall near the kitchen, a drink in one hand, his other casually tucked into his pocket. His messy blond hair looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of some ridiculous sports magazine. He looked completely at ease, this party—and everyone in it—existed solely for his entertainment.

You hated that he was your only option right now.

Rafe Cameron was your brother’s best friend since diapers, your public enemy number one on your worst days. Your stomach did that stupid little thingy it always seemed to do when you saw him, and you hated it.

You cut Jake or Jack off, raising your hand. “I need to go—uh—find my boyfriend.”

Jake blinked. “Your what?”

“My boyfriend,” you repeated, internally cringing at the word and already walking through the crowd toward Rafe. “He’s waiting for me.”

Ugh. You groaned internally. You don’t like Rafe. You don’t even think about Rafe. 

“Cameron,” you said when you reached him, grabbing his sleeve. “Need your help.”

Rafe turned, his blue eyes looking down to where your hand gripped his arm. Then he looked back up at you, his lips curving, “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

 “I’m serious.”

His smirk widened. “Even better. What’s going on, princess?”

You glared at him. “Some guy won’t leave me alone. He’s been following me around all night, and I need you to—”

“Who?”

You shook your head quickly, knowing that look in his eyes meant trouble and black eyes. “We’re not doing the ‘caveman throws a punch’ thing. I just need you to pretend to be my…” You paused, the word catching in your throat. “Pretend to be my…”

Rafe tilted his head, watching you squirm. “Your what?”

You shuddered at the thought. “My…boyfriend.”

His smirk was back in full Cameron force. “What was that?”

You crossed your arms in defiance, refusing to let him win this. “You heard me.”

“I heard you,” Rafe nodded, leaning closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Just didn’t think I’d live to see the day you called me your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend,” you clarified through gritted teeth. “Don’t make this weird, Cameron.”

But it already was, because just standing this close to him made your heart pound in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“Always knew you had a thing for me, but this? You want me sooooo bad,” he drawled out, tongue kissing his teeth as he pinched your arm.

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I do,” You shoved his touch away, “Help me.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he opened his mouth to say something dumb—but then Jake appeared at the end of the hallway, his face lighting up when he spotted you.

“There you are!” Jake called, heading straight for you.

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing Rafe’s beefy arm again. “Just follow my lead.”

Jake stopped in front of you, giving Rafe a once-over. “Hey,” he said, clearly confused. “Who’s this?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to say the word again. “This is my… uh, my boyfriend.”

The second it left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole. It sounded so fake, so awkward—and Rafe wasn’t helping, because you could feel him staring at you with that stupid smug grin.

“Hey,” Rafe cut in smoothly, draping an arm over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You lookin’ for my girl?”

Jake blinked, “Oh. I, uh—I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah,” Rafe patronized, “You wouldn’t.”

Then Jake's stupid eyes widened, “Wait… you’re Rafe Cameron.”

Rafe’s smirk grew impossibly smug. “That’s me.”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit. Dude, you’re the Rafe Cameron. Hockey star. I watched your game against Michigan last month—you were insane.”

Rafe shrugged, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Appreciate it, man.”

You wanted to die, maybe strangle him.

Jake turned to you, his tone almost accusing. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was Rafe Cameron.”

You laughed nervously, trying not to grimace. “Yeah, uh,… it’s not exactly my favorite topic.”

The second the words left your mouth, Rafe’s fingers pinched your waist—just enough to make you jolt—and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your hair.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Jake, oblivious to your little argument, kept gushing. “Seriously, man, you’re a beast. I don’t know how you pull off those plays—”

Jake was too busy gushing over Rafe, throwing out stats and plays like he’d memorized Rafe’s entire career. And Rafe, of course, was eating it up, nodding along like he wasn’t already aware of how good he was.

That’s when you felt it—Rafe’s fingers, toying with the hem of your top.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced up at him, but he was still focused on Jake, his face the picture of calm confidence.

“Yeah,” He was saying, his fingers moving tenderly against your skin. “That Michigan game was wild. You should’ve seen her, though.” He tilted his head toward you. “Biggest fan in the stands. Couldn’t take her eyes off me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you—”

“Yeah?” Jake said, interrupting you. “That’s awesome. Must be crazy, dating someone like him.”

You clenched your fists, your irritation bubbling over. “Oh, it’s insane.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, his fingers teasing your side one last time before Jake finally walked away, muttering something about grabbing another drink.

The second he was out of earshot, you shoved Rafe’s arm off you and glared up at him. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “Dial down the foreplay, you’re gonna make me hard.”

This motherfucker, oh my god.

You stared at him, your jaw nearly unhinged from the sheer nerve. “Are you—did you just—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, the words vanishing in your throat as your face warmed.

Rafe, on the other hand, looked entirely unbothered, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t just said the most inappropriate thing imaginable. “What?” he drawled, his smirk practically glowing in the dim light. “You started it, calling me your boyfriend. I’m just playing the part.”

You took a step back, glaring at him like you could kill him with sheer willpower, “How does anyone ever put up with you, oh my god.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he quipped, his smile widening as he reached out to tug lightly on the hem of your sleeve.

You smacked his hand away. “If you keep this up, I’ll go back out there and tell Jake—or Jack, or whoever—that I was lying.”

“Please,” Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You're not gonna subject yourself to that human LinkedIn profile just to spite me.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could retort, a group of partygoers passed by, a couple of them glancing your way and whispering. One of them—a girl in a glittery crop top—stopped to wave at Rafe, her voice eager.

“Oh my god, Rafe! I didn’t know you were here!”

Rafe gave her a polite nod, his hand sliding back to your waist, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to make your stomach go stupid.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone easy. “Just hanging out with my girl.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide with disbelief, “Dude.”

What the fuck is wrong with you?! you wanted to scream, but the girl was already nodding, her smile faltering as she glanced at you.

“Right. Cool. Um, see you around, I guess,” she said before walking off with her friends.

The second she was gone, you shoved Rafe’s hand off you again. “You’re having way too much fun with this shit.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, face softening into something that almost—almost—resembled genuine amusement. “This is the most fun I’ve had at one of these parties in weeks.”

“Glad I could provide you with some entertainment,” you said dryly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, princess,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as his eyes met yours. “You’re the highlight of my night.”

You forced yourself to scoff pretending his sweet nothing’s didn’t hit home.

“I know you, I’m not falling for your little hockey player charm offensive.”

“Who says it’s an offensive?” he asked, tilting his head. “Maybe it’s just a… friendly check.”

“Friendly?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t do friendly.”

He shrugged, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a way that felt entirely too deliberate. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

“Why the fuck is everyone saying my sister is dating my best friend?! Hello??”

Your entire body went rigid as Kelce bulldozed through the crowd, looking thoroughly scandalized. He stopped dead in front of you, his eyes darting between you and Rafe with full-on soap opera disbelief.

Rafe, the insufferable fucking bastard, didn’t even try to keep it together—he straight-up bent over laughing, one hand braced on his knee, the other holding his drink like it was sacred.

“Oh, shit,” he wheezed, grinning wide enough to blind someone. “This just keeps getting better.”

You wanted to drop dead right there in the beer-sticky hallway.

Kelce blinked at you, bewildered. “What. The. Actual. Hell?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you snapped, glaring at Rafe as he tried (and failed) to recover, his chest still shaking with laughter.

“Yeah?” Kelce shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the swarm of gossiping partiers. “Because everyone’s saying it looks like you two are a thing.”

“We are not a thing,” you hissed, making a couple of people nearby glance over. “He was just helping me ditch some guy who wouldn’t take a hint.”

Rafe, still grinning like a jackass, finally straightened up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was warm, low, “Your sister couldn’t resist me.”

You whipped around, shoving his chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, laughing like this was the most fun he’d had in years. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Kelce’s jaw practically unhinged. “Wait. Are you actually into her?”

Rafe tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Depends—am I allowed to?”

Your eyes narrowed to murderous slits. “I will put you in the ground, Cameron.”

Rafe’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, sending a traitorous shiver down your spine. “God, you’re mean,” he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Kinda hot, though.”

Kelce gagged dramatically. “Nope. Nope. I’m out. Y’all are sick.”

“Glad we agree,” you muttered as Kelce stormed off, throwing his hands up like you were a lost cause.

The second he was gone, you turned on Rafe, stabbing a finger into his chest. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” he echoed, grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to your breakdown. “You’re the one who called me your boyfriend, princess.”

You scowled. “Yeah, clearly that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s eyes gleamed, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse hitch. “Nah. Best decision you’ve made all night.”

You flipped him off. “I’m fake-dumping your ass immediately.”

Rafe had that look on his face—the one that made you want to throw something at him. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned casually against the wall, all cocky confidence and oh-aren’t-I-just-so-fucking-charming energy.

“You know,” he started, dragging the words out like he was savoring them, “this kinda reminds me of when you had that crush on me when we were, what, twelve?”

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He grinned wider, eyes gleaming with delight. “You used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy at Kelce’s games. Always sitting in the front row, twirling your hair like you were in some rom-com.”

You made a noise halfway between a scoff and a snarl. “Excuse me? I did not have a crush on you.”

“Yeah? So you weren’t the one who told Kelce I had ‘pretty eyes’?”

He did, in fact, have pretty eyes, so what....

Your face went up in flames. “That was a joke.”

“Sure it was,” he teased, leaning in just enough to make you want to run for the hills. “You totally didn’t write my name in your notebook, either, right?”

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even know about that?!”

“Kelce found it last month and showed me,” Rafe said, completely unapologetic. “Heart doodles and everything. Thought you were writing love songs for me or something.”

“I hate you,” you growled, your face now hotter than the sun.

“You loved me,” he quipped, biting back a laugh. “Or at least your little self did. Cute.”

“I’m going to strangle Kelce.”

Rafe smirked, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off his sleeve. “Too late to deny it now, princess. I’m your first love, and you just fake-dated me tonight. Full circle.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, eyes dancing, “but you’re still blushing.”

“I will kick you in the balls, Cameron.”

“Careful,” he warned, “You’re gonna fall for me all over again.”

[elysianightsss]

AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out

i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…

Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘

It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.

Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.

John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.

Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.

Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”

You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.

Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.

Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.

Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.

Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.

John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.

“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.

The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.

John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.

You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.

You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.

Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.

You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.

Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.

They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.

That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.

“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.

“Have you gone mad?” You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.

And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.

He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.

“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.

“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.

“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.

Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.

And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…

You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.

Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.

“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.

Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.

“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.

“b-but-“

“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.

“Please! Please Si! I-“

“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.

“yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“

Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.

You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.

Safe to say you happily quit your job.

[milkoomi]

inner glow up. ᥫ᭡

while we focus on our physical selves to glow up, we tend to forget about our minds and hearts. we also need to focus on letting more light come into ourselves. the way we think, the way we love, the way we expend our energy; all of that can have this aspect of “glowing up” too! in this post, we’re going to discuss how to glow from within and let that beautiful new energy radiate outwards.

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — the mind

deep clean your thoughts

meditation:

take a moment, even if it’s just for 5 minutes, to sit and clear your head. focus on breathing exercises, concentrate on the rhythm of your heart, listen to the ambient noises of your surroundings. meditation is a fantastic way of clearing your mind and removing those overwhelming thoughts that are piling up in your brain! you also don’t need to be sitting, you could also meditate while in the shower! i have an entire guide on how to do so! you can also take meditative walks and focus on your surroundings.

journaling:

just dump all your thoughts onto a page, write down everything that’s on your mind. once you’re done you can even rip up the paper and toss it away! doing these journal dumps can help release those racing thoughts and clear your mind. it may even help to relieve some weight off your shoulders!

decorate your mind with peace & kindness

write down affirmations or go to a mirror and say those affirmations to yourself! fill your head with positive thoughts and calming reassurance.

try recording a voice message & send it to yourself! you can say your affirmations that way or give yourself a motivational mini-speech. this way, you can go back to those messages when you need an uplifting message from someone. and it’s always better to get back up with kindness and love from yourself!

organize your headspace

make room for positivity, peace, and grace and throw out all the negativity that’s tossed around in your head. don’t let negative talk from others, media, or yourself take up space in your head! your mind should never hold a spot for negativity.

distance yourself from those who bring you down

delete social media that no longer serves you or take regular breaks to unplug from your phone

replace negative self-talk with positive affirmations

replace “i can’t” with “i can”

୨ৎ — the heart

nurture your heart

as your mind is an important place to keep thoughts of joy, kindness, and love, your heart needs to feel it!

practice self care

take care of your physical needs (shower, drink water, brush your teeth, eat nutritious and delicious foods, move your body)

write yourself love letters

say “thank you” when receiving compliments

provide protection for your feelings

your heart is scared and access to it should be very limited. don’t let just anyone in. now, i’m not saying you have to put iron walls up around your heart and feelings, but i’m saying that you need to be selective. be picky about who you surround yourself with.

invite people who…

provide genuine & unconditional love

support you and your dreams

encourage you to prioritize your health (physical & mental)

offer guidance when you feel lost

close the doors on people who…

make jokes out of your insecurities

take your passions and dreams as something to laugh about

invalidate your feelings and thoughts

think it’s okay to walk all over you

don’t value your time and space

୨ৎ — letting in the light

i believe our energies attract different things whether we want them to or not. letting dark or bad energy ruminate within yourself and allowing it to consume you can attract misfortune, loss, and sadness which keeps us from reaching our true potential.

let light or good energy flow within you and let that energy be the one that takes up all the space. you’ll attract what you actually want rather than the things you wish to avoid.

light energy can come from…

taking up hobbies you enjoy

listening to music that makes you feel good

spending time with loved ones

going on nature walks

playing with pets

celebrating your accomplishments

final notes —

the biggest take away from this: protect your peace. becoming the best version of yourself comes with knowing how to find peace within yourself and making sure you show yourself love and kindness. the main person you should lean on for that kind of good energy should be you. let your glow up start from within!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[nyrasvoid]

To Tame a Dragon

♡ Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: As the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra, you and your family are summoned to King’s Landing under mysterious circumstances. Upon your arrival, you quickly discover that you’re betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, your strange uncle who never seemed to have an ounce of affection for you.

⚝ Warnings: Arranged marriage, Aemond being a cruel and possessive husband, degradation (uses of “slut” and “whore”), smut (with another lord for now but very short), manipulation, angst, toxic relationships, dub-con elements, slow burn and kinda enemies to lovers dynamic.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊ A/N: for now they kinda hate eachother and reader has a lover but dw cause she will actually end up with Aemond lol. Also if you have any suggestions for the following parts my inbox is open

⭑ Word count: ≈2.3k

You and your family had arrived at King’s Landing under strange circumstances. The journey from Dragonstone had been long and tiring, and yet, no one could tell you exactly why you were being summoned to the Red Keep. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had tried to get answers, but no one seemed willing to speak plainly to her.

The moment you set foot on the steps of the Red Keep, you noticed it: their cold indifference. The greens did not welcome you, did not offer the courtesy that you expected from family. It was as if you and your kin had been erased from the family tree entirely.

“You see that?” Your brother Jacaerys whispered, his voice laced with disgust as he looked toward the hall where Aegon and the others stood. “Not a single one of them steps forward to greet us.”

Daemon, walking beside him, clenched his jaw. “They think us beneath them.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice, his words carrying the sting of resentment. “They are reminding us of who they believe holds the true power.”

Your mother’s eyes flashed with a quiet fury, but she said nothing, instead leading the way.

♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜

As you were escorted to your chambers by a guard, you exchanged a glance with your maid Ella, your trusted friend who had accompanied you on this journey. She followed you inside, her steps quick as she moved to help you settle.

“What do you think this is all about?” you asked her, your voice tight with frustration. “Why have we been summoned here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, my lady. They haven’t said anything to me. But there is a feast tonight. That’s all I was told.” Her hands worked to remove your traveling cloak. “Let me help you get ready.”

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. “A feast? At a time like this?”

She gave you a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s tradition, princess. You must attend.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was little you could do. You had to go. You had to pretend to care for the show, though your mind was filled with only one thing: why were you here?

♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜✦ ♜✦♜✦♜✦♜

The banquet hall was filled with lords and ladies, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and wine. You sat at the long table, feeling a knot of tension in your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel small in the green’s presence, especially as Aegon’s gaze drifted over you.

But the worst of it was Aemond. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, but you refused to meet his gaze.

As you conversed with your brothers, the topic of the greens came up once again.

“Look at them,” Jace muttered, his voice low. “They think they can get away with this. Not even a word of greeting when we arrive.”

“They can all rot,” you said bitterly. “I can’t stand any of them.”

Daemon smirked. “But that’s what they want, isn’t it? They want us angry. They want us to break.”

You nodded, a sense of frustration building in your chest. “I refuse to bend to them. But I can’t even figure out why we’re here. What do they want from us?”

Before anyone could answer, a voice interrupted.

“Princess,” a lord from one of the great houses stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

You blinked in surprise, but a smile quickly tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’d be delighted.”

The lord’s hand was warm as it held yours, and the two of you made your way to the dance floor. He was handsome, tall and with a charming smile that made your heart flutter. As the music played, you flirted with him lightly, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your waist and the way he made you forget about the tension at the table.

But across the room, you couldn’t ignore the sharp gaze of Aemond. It burned through you, dark and possessive.

Aegon, ever the troublemaker, leaned toward his brother, a smirk on his lips. “You know,” he said loud enough for Aemond to hear, “if you’re not going to make a move, I’ll happily do it. She’s got quite the figure, doesn’t she? Those breasts, I’m sure you’ve noticed. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her for myself, brother.”

“I think I’m capable enough of fulfilling my marital duties, brother” Aemond finally muttered, his eyes locked onto you with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

You returned to your seat after the dance, still smiling from the interaction, only for the King to call for silence. The room fell still, all eyes on him as he stood, ready to make his announcement.

“My lords and ladies,” the King’s voice echoed across the hall, “I have an important announcement to make. It is with great pride that I announce the betrothal of my granddaughter, to my son, prince Aemond Targaryen.”

You looked to your mother, but she was frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Rhaenyra stood, her voice shaking with fury. “What is this? You did not consult me, didn’t even let me know this decision was being made. You rejected my proposal years ago of marryimg Helaena to Jace, and now—”

But the King cut her off. “The decision is final, they will marry. The advantages to the realm are clear.”

Rhaenyra’s hands curled into fists. “You think I’ll allow this?” she hissed. “You think I’ll stand by and let you make this decision without my consent?”

“Enough,” the King snapped, his voice cold. “This is for the good of the realm.”

The tension in the room was palpable as your brothers attempted to speak on your behalf, but the King remained unmoved.

You felt your heart break. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say a word as you watched the man who had always been indifferent, cruel even, be forced into your future.

You stood quickly as you stormed out of the hall. You couldn’t stay there, couldn’t bear to hear any more.

You reached your chambers, the door slamming shut behind you as you threw yourself onto the bed, tears spilling from your eyes.

Not long after, you heard a knock at the door.

It was your mother, entering the room quietly. “Darling, I know this is difficult,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “But you must understand… this betrothal—it’s for the good of the realm. You will see that, in time.”

You wiped your tears angrily. “I don’t care about the realm, mother! I don’t want this. I don’t want him!”

Your mother sat beside you, taking your hand in hers. “I know. I know, my sweet girl. But this is the way it must be. For now, we endure.”

You shook your head, still crying quietly. “I don’t want to endure this. I don’t want him.”

She gave you a sad smile, kissing your forehead. “It’s not about what we want. It’s about what we must do.”

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The sun hung high in the sky as you met with your closest friends. Floris Baratheon, Lysa Tully, and Serene Martell were already sitting under the large oak tree. It was supposed to be a relaxing break from the madness of your betrothal.

“We heard, my lady. About the betrothal. How are you feeling?” Floris asked, her voice full of concern. She was always so direct, unlike Lysa, who was quieter but equally perceptive.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted, taking a seat next to them. “It feels like my life is already over before it’s even begun. I’m being forced to marry Aemond. A man I barely know, a man who doesn’t care about me. I don’t even have a say in it.”

Serene, leaned in. “Well, your life might not be over just yet. You always have the option of finding yourself a lover.”

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at that. “A lover?” you echoed. “Maybe I could find one.”

Lysa chuckled. “Well, I’ve heard things about Aemond. The rumors say he’s cruel, that he’s got a temper, that he punishes those who displease him.”

Floris nodded, her brows furrowed. “I’ve heard those rumors too. And honestly? I don’t blame you for being upset. Who wants to marry someone like that?”

You sighed heavily. “It’s like my whole future has been decided for me. I can’t escape it.”

Serene raised an eyebrow playfully. “At least you’ve got options, my lady. You’re not trapped in the same way as us. Who knows? Maybe that lord you danced with at the feast would be the one to give you the freedom you’re looking for.”

Your heart skipped at the mention of Lord Garrick Redwyne, who had captivated you at the last feast. He was bold, charming, and you could tell he also took an interest in you.

“You know, you might be right,” you said, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “I did meet a very handsome lord at the dance. Lord Garrick Redwyne. We danced and… well, maybe he could be the one to offer me some much needed distraction.”

Floris snorted. “Aemond can’t even stand a chance against someone like him. I mean, honestly, have you seen Aemond? I’m sure he’s not good for much other than looking brooding and scary with that missing eye of his.”

Lysa and Serene laughed in agreement. “You should go for it,” Serene added, her voice low but encouraging. “Let him give you what Aemond never will.”

You paused, your mind racing. “I think I just might. It would be nice to have a taste of freedom before I’m locked in a marriage with a man who looks at me like I’m nothing more than a political pawn.”

The conversation turned lighter as you all continued to joke about the idea of lovers, but little did you know, one of the queen’s maids had been standing nearby, overhearing every word. The whispers would soon reach Aemond.

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Later that afternoon, you were summoned to meet with Alicent and some of the workers to begin organizing the wedding.

Alicent wasted no time in pushing her own ideas. “I trust you’re prepared to make the necessary sacrifices for the good of the realm,” she said sharply, eyes narrowing as she gestured to the workers. “This wedding must reflect the union of two great houses.”

You bit your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “I understand, Your Grace. But I’d like to choose the color of my dress. I’d prefer red and gold.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to you, her lips curling in a thin smile. “Red and gold? You do realize that’s a bold choice, don’t you? Quite revealing for a wedding dress.”

“Why, does it offend you?” you told her, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

“You are marrying my son, dear. A dress of green would be more appropriate.” Alicent’s tone was firm.

You crossed your arms, standing your ground. “I will not wear green. I refuse. If I must marry him, I at least want some control over my dress.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, but your defiance seemed to catch her off guard. She stared at you for a moment, then finally sighed. “Very well, but make sure it isn’t too revealing.”

You smiled, knowing you’d won this battle, even if it was a small one. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

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That evening, as the grand hall filled with the sounds of laughter, you were heading to your brother Jacaerys to ask him something about the upcoming wedding preparations. But just as you were about to step inside, you spotted Lord Garrick Redwyne once more.

He smiled at you, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “Ah, princess, how wonderful to see you again.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the sight of him. His charm was undeniable.

“Lord Garrick,” you replied, smiling back. “I was just about to speak with my brother, but I’m glad to see you.”

His smile grew wider as he took a step closer. “Would you care to accompany me for a moment? Away from the crowds?”, he said as he extended his arm for you to hold onto.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”, as you wrapped your arm around his and followed his lead.

He led you through the castle, past the grand halls and into a quieter corridor.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Lord Garrick said, his voice low as he wrapped his hands around your waist. “I can’t help but wonder what it would be like… to have you, without all the politics, without the pressure of your betrothal.”

You took a deep breath, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” you murmured, your eyes locked on his.

Without another word, he kissed you—softly at first and then more passionately as the moments stretched. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as his lips moved to your neck. You let out a soft gasp, feeling a shiver run through you.

He moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck, and you gasped softly as he nipped at your skin. His hands were firm, his lips traveled lower still.

His mouth found its way to your most intimate place, and the pleasure was overwhelming, like nothing you had ever felt before. You moaned quietly, afraid of who might hear. You’d waited too long to feel this kind of release, this freedom.

When it was over, you both sat on the cool floor, catching your breath. “That was… incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

Lord Garrick smiled, kissing your forehead softly. “I will be here whenever you need me, my lady.”

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget about Aemond, about the marriage that awaited you. With Garrick, there was no cruelty, no coldness. There was only heat, passion, and the feeling of being wanted for who you were.

As he gave you pleasure, you couldn’t help but think: Maybe I can have a life outside of Aemond, even if it’s only in stolen moments like this.

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The air in the gardens was thick with tension as you walked beside Aemond, the silence between you two almost suffocating. You weren’t looking forward to this forced interaction, but here you were, ordered by the queen to “get to know” the man you were supposed to marry. You had no interest in being his bride, and certainly no desire to get to know him any better.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to you now and then, but you refused to look at him. Finally, after a long silence, Aemond broke it.

“Tell me, why do you always wear that look?” Aemond’s voice broke the silence, his words laced with bitterness. “You’ve been sent here to wed me, yet I don’t see a single ounce of enthusiasm in your expression.”

You didn’t even glance at him as you walked, keeping your pace slow. “Maybe because I have been forced into this marriage” you shot back, the bitterness in your own voice matching his.

“I don’t owe you any pleasantries.”

His lips twisted into a small smirk, though it lacked any real humor. “Of course, you don’t. I suppose that’s why you’ve taken to speaking about me behind my back—saying things I’m sure you think I don’t know.”

You froze. Aemond wasn’t looking at you directly, his gaze focused ahead. You clenched your fists, not willing to let him know he’d struck a nerve.

“What are you talking about?” you spat, though you had a pretty good idea. The rumors, the jokes from your friends… Had they reached him already?

He shot you a glance then, eyes narrowing. “I heard you’ve found yourself someone to entertain you. I suppose it must be rather entertaining to joke about your… lovers.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you insinuating, Aemond?” you asked.

Aemond’s voice dropped to a low tone. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know exactly what I heard. You think I don’t know you’re running around with some other man behind my back? I heard of your little conversation with your friends in the garden. You’re quite the whore, aren’t you? Laughing about my missing eye and discussing your lover like it’s nothing.”

Your jaw clenched at his words. Whore. He had no right to talk to you like that. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “You have no right of speaking to me in such way.”

You glared at him. “You want to talk about my lover? Fine. I’ll tell you everything. He makes me feel things you could never,” you hissed, taking a step even closer to him. “In fact, I’ve already lost my maidenhood to him.” Lies.

“You think that’s something to be proud of?” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re nothing more than a filthy, loose woman, and you’ll regret every second of it once you’re tied to me.”

“You think I’ll regret it?” you snapped back, “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Aemond. I don’t regret anything. Not my lover, not anything I’ve done before now. You’re just angry because I’ve found someone who actually knows how to please a woman.” That said, you turned around to retire to your chambers.

Aemond’s expression twisted into anger. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed your arm, spinning you towards him, forcing you into the nearest wall. You gasped in shock as Aemond pinned you against it. His grip was tight as he pressed you there, his face inches from yours.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Aemond growled. He gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. into a bush, his body trapping you against it. “Let me tell you something, princess,” Aemond whispered into your ear, he leaned in closer. “I’ll put a baby in you, and once you’re carrying my child, I won’t touch you again. You’ll be nothing but a vessel for my heir. And when you’re knocked up and useless to me, I’ll get myself a whore. A woman who knows her place. And I’ll bring her to the Red Keep, rub her in your face, and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

You were petrified as he pinned you against the wall, but he wasn’t finished. “If I find out who your lover is, if I find out you’ve been seeing him behind my back, I’ll make sure you never see him again. I’ll have him dragged out and humiliated, and you’ll never be able to hide from it. You’ll regret every little thing you’ve done.”

Aemond took a step forward, forcing you to tilt your head up to keep your glare locked onto his.

“You think you can humiliate me?” His voice was quiet. “That you can make a mockery of this betrothal? Of me?”

You scoffed, “You’re doing that all on your own, Aemond. If you’re so offended, then call off the wedding.”, you continued “You are a man, a prince I’m sure they will call it of if you object”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You think I would let you go that easily?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You are mine now. No matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you despise me, you will stand beside me as my wife.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the way he said mine, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you.

“You can have my hand in marriage, Aemond,” you bit out, “but you will never have me.”

Aemond let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that, wife.”

He turned on his heel, walking away without another word, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your chest.

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[beesandwasps]

Since Gaza isn’t being bombed any more, they’re actually in better shape now than they were under Biden. They’re still being shot at with impunity by Israelis, but that was happening for the last 70 years so don’t pretend you care about it if you didn’t notice until now.

I would never ask a Democrat for help anyway, because they exist to prevent help from being provided. And I’m totally sure you speak for all black women and all lgbt, and the ones I follow who say the exact opposite of what you do don’t actually exist.

End the Iraq war early? Nope, we leave on Bush’s timeline (and even then Obama tried to keep us there beyond it).

Prosecute the Too Big To Fail Banks for the 2008 meltdown? Haha, nope, they’re Obama’s donors.

Cut the military budget when times are tough? That’s firm — let’s have austerity for social spending instead!

Healthcare? Oh, we’re going to get a legal mandate to buy private insurance in the form of the ACA. I’m sure that will help, it’s not like they’re the ones who created the problem in the first place. (Are you fucking kidding me?!)

Fossil fuels? Obama won’t prosecute BP for the Deepwater Horizon spill and Biden will increase production! And also put tariffs on solar panels and wind turbines from China, when there are basically no other suppliers! (But tariffs aren’t bad when Democrats do them!)

Police violence? Biden will give them federal funds they never had before so they can hire more officers and buy better equipment!

Immigration? In Trump’s first term, he deported fewer people than either Biden’s four years or any four years of Obama, and nearly all the facilities ICE is using (and were using in Trump’s first term) were built by Obama or Biden.

Gaza? 15 months of livestreamed genocide, hospitals and schools bombed into rubble, and Biden constantly lied to the public to make sure the money and weapons kept flowing to Israel, and had the US veto any UN resolutions which might have ended it. (Every single Democrat is going to hell for that if there’s a hell. Including Harris, who said out loud that she couldn’t think of a single thing she would have done differently from Biden.)

Domestic spying? GWB proposed “Total Information Awareness” which the Democrats and the press mocked because it was so obviously fascist overreach, and he backed off. Obama implemented literally every part of the proposal except the name.

Disease? More people died of Covid-19 under Biden’s first two years, when there were vaccines against it, than did under Trump, because he ignored the science and cut relief almost immediately after taking office. He also let corporations dictate the bird flu response so the probable next epidemic could be created.

Foreign interference? Obama approved CIA participation in Operation Car Wash to overthrow the left-leaning Brazilian government and install the Trump-like Bolsonaro, among other meddling in South America.

War? Obama invaded Libya based on lies, sent troops around Africa, and continued GWB’s drone bombing — as did Biden — despite both the CIA and an independent academic study saying that this is actively counterproductive! Oh, and he also petitioned Congress for money to refurbish existing nukes and build new “tactical” ones which Trump now controls.

The Democrats literally could not have produced a more convenient setup for Trump. Why people like you defend them is a mystery.

Why are they so fucking dumb. Does this mean we’ll at least get in new deal in 2040?

[goldenroutledge]

someday my prince will come

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count ⤜ 3.7k

summary ⤜ fluff. in which you’ll never feel alone as long as you have rafe, and he’ll never feel alone as long as he has you.

warning(s) ⤜ wedding planning stress, toxic family members

a/n ⤜ inspired by ‘alone together’ - sabrina carpenter || masterlist

Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed. That’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping it will wish away the cynicism surrounding what is supposed to be the happiest time in your life. Transactional relationships set the norm on Figure Eight for friends and foe alike. Everyone used anyone they could get their hands on, only leaving them for dead when the conditions were no longer suitable.

It should’ve been no surprise that people would be treating your upcoming marriage to Rafe that same way. As if it’s nothing but a transaction curated to mutually benefit yourself, Rafe, and your respective families. Truthfully, your relationship was anything but.

Years together proved that passion still burns between you, in a way that most can’t begin to dream of. Every look, every kiss and every touch holds that passion somewhere deep inside. There was no denying that you two have enough of it to last a lifetime and then some when Rafe got down on bended knee and asked you to spend your life with him. You love Rafe Cameron for all the right reasons and he loves you the same.

Your families and friends around you are fools to not acknowledge that, seemingly destined to have their own ways of projecting insecurities onto the both of you. Planning your wedding was something you imagined to be a magical time, selecting colors and florals that would paint a picture reminiscent of a fairytale. Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed.

From the moment your perfectly cut diamond ring was noticeable on your left hand, some chose to take it as a personal invitation to assert their unwarranted advice. It started with your mother, divorced and remarried now more times than you care to keep track of. Her guidance hardly resembles the special experience between mother and daughter that planning a wedding usually brings. After one of your first meetings with your wedding planner, you’d come to regret asking your mother to accompany you.

“I just don’t see why he’s walking you down the aisle instead of me.”

“You mean my father? I didn’t think you’d have such an issue with it given you chose to marry and have a child with him.”

“And I chose to divorce the asshole, too.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me, Mom. You both made your choices and I made mine. My father is going to be at my wedding whether you like it or not.”

“50 feet away from me at all times, I hope.” She speaks lowly, barely under her breath. You’d be burning with embarrassment right now if it weren’t for your wedding planner, ever attuned and able to spot an argument a mile away, who kindly left you and your mother to chat in private.

“Please, don’t worry about that. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with you either. The only difference is that he’s willing to tolerate you for the sake of my happiness.”

“This isn’t about happiness, Y/n. It’s about respect. Had I not raised you right, you wouldn’t be able to attract a man like Rafe in the first place. The least you could do is acknowledge your mother on your wedding day.”

“That’ll make for a beautiful toast at your next brunch with the ladies from the club. I’ll be sure to write that down.” You chide sarcastically, unable to hold back from rolling your eyes at her audaciousness. “It’s good to know that’s what you’re really excited about. Showboating to your friends that I found someone successful, not that I found someone I love.”

“Like it or not, it’s the truth. I’m not afraid to be honest with you unlike some people in your life.”

“What exactly is honest about guilt tripping me into letting you make all of my wedding decisions for me? For us! You’re lucky Rafe isn’t here or he would’ve thrown you out by now.”

“And risk our relationship just when we’re about to be in-laws? You’re ridiculous. I hope he knows the kind of dramatics he’s marrying into.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not trying to be malicious, dear. I just want you to have your priorities straight.”

“Believe me, they are.”

“You can’t forget your family in the process, my darling. You can’t just leave me behind like I don’t exist because when this marriage is over you’ll realize that I’m not as crazy as you think. You’ll need me again one day.”

“When my marriage is over? This isn’t some fucking contract. We love each other.”

“There’s no need to get hysterical, Y/n. I told myself all the same things too. You’ll see.”

—

Your conversation with your mother left you disheartened at best, infuriated at worst. One look into Rafe’s eyes would have your worries melting away, but you can’t help the nagging feeling inside that’s telling you to say something. You know how much courage it took for him to open his heart to you in the way that he has. You know how much courage it’s taken for you to open your heart, too. You know how with each other it’s been so easy that neither of you really noticed how naturally your love has blossomed. When you fell for each other, there was nothing that could stop you.

That explains why this nagging feeling, that you assume is guilt, simply won’t go away. How can you imagine getting married to Rafe Cameron, the love of your life, and feel anything but unbridled joy. To give a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone doubting your relationship, you’d love nothing more than to proclaim your love for each other in front of a crowd. But in the many scenarios you’ve played in your head, none of them put you at ease.

There was no denying the deep trust that connects you, knowing that you can tell him whatever is on your mind. The worst thing you’ve ever done, the darkest thought you’ve ever had, he will stand by you through anything. And you would do the same for him. It’s why the idea of saying: ‘Hey, by the way, I don’t want a wedding’, is not something you can muster the courage for. Guilt begs you to tell him anyway, knowing how badly he would feel to know you’re suffering in silence like this.

Little do you know, Rafe is troubled in reconciling his own guilt. It’s not just your mother who wants to see the worst come of your relationship. Considering Rafe’s strained dynamic with his father, that should come as no surprise.

Cameron Development takes up most of Rafe’s time these days, leaving him and Ward to spend quite a lot of it together. Rafe prefers to keep their topics of discussion focused on the company. Their relationship works best that way, a transactional partnership between father and son that would benefit the Cameron legacy for generations.

But if it weren’t for Ward’s nagging, Rafe never would’ve ended up here at the Island Club having lunch with his father. He knows for a fact that it would’ve been time better spent with you, his future wife, desperate to feel the kiss of your lips or be able to exhale in your arms in the midst of a busy day.

Ward spends all of 5 minutes discussing some company stuff that could’ve easily been sent in an email drafted by his assistant before getting down to his real intentions. He always hides them behind the mask of a loving father.

“I lied about why I needed to speak with you today.”

Rafe scoffs, but always manages his expectations when it comes to Ward. “Imagine that.”

Ward chuckles, trying to play off his son’s jab as innocent sarcasm. “I wanted to talk to you about your soon-to-be marriage to Y/n.”

Rafe takes a gulp of his drink, already feeling slightly on edge and on guard at the mention of your life together. “What about it?”

“Have you two discussed a prenup?”

“Dad-” Rafe tries to interject, but to no avail. Ward’s already a step ahead of him.

“I know it’s only been a couple months into the engagement, but it’s never too early to have these conversations.”

“I don’t need to worry about having these conversations at all. And you definitely don’t need to be concerned with it either because I’m not asking her to sign a prenup. Simple as that.”

“Rafe, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my marriage to Rose-”

“Your marriage to Rose is a sham. And Y/n is nothing like her.”

“Y/n’s great.” Ward seemingly surrenders, in hopes to disarm Rafe while still getting his point across. “I’m not trying to suggest otherwise. I’m just saying that things happen in marriages and you need to be prepared. What do you think will happen to Cameron Development if she winds up with half in a divorce?”

“If we get divorced, it means that I’ve got bigger problems than potentially losing Cameron Development.” Rafe laments, finishing his drink. “Besides, she wouldn’t want it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know her. For sure. Alright?” Rafe fires back, firm intent behind every word. “I know you have a hard time imagining what it’s like to be loved for something other than your money. And I’m sure you have a harder time imagining how she could love me without it. But you can save your fatherly advice, I’m gonna live my life with Y/n without any of your prenup bullshit.”

Rafe grabs his wallet from his pocket, throwing down several bills on the table that he doesn’t bother counting. All that’s on his mind right now is getting back home to you.

“Have a nice day, Dad.”

—

At this point in his life, Rafe has mastered the art of ignoring Ward Cameron. He’s come to accept that they’re simply a better duo in business than as father and son. The family he came from felt less like family when he fell in love with you. Now that you were about to be married, it was gonna be real. You would be each other’s family not only in spirit, but officially on paper. For the rest of your lives you would be where you always belonged; together.

Right now, Rafe can’t shake the feeling that his father is already preparing for everything to fall apart before you two have a chance to build anything more. Logically, he knows the concept of a prenup isn’t a stupid idea. But his father’s intentions for him have proven to be anything but pure. There’s always something in it for Ward.

Rafe loves you, and that means he’s ready to share his life with you, money be damned. Besides there’s nobody more deserving for him to spend it on, no matter how badly you insist that you don’t love him for the fine jewelry or the dates at expensive restaurants around the island. For him, that’s all the more reason why he commits to showing you a lifestyle that’s beyond comprehension.

He wants to tell you about the absolute bullshit his father brought him to lunch to talk about today but hesitates in mentioning it at all. In any other scenario you’d both laugh it off, but this was a special time for your relationship. It’s delicate, and deserves to be handled with care. Rafe wants nothing more than to protect you from anyone looking to tarnish it.

Rafe’s final straw strikes later that night while waiting for you to finish your skincare routine and join him in bed. His phone sounds with several text messages from Topper. His eyebrows furrow in curiosity, expression quickly turning sour as he reads the messages.

Clearly, after cutting lunch short, Ward was quick to enlist Topper Thornton into his agenda. Seeing the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s an easy enough target to carry out something like this. Rafe scans the messages, catching the gist of it.

Something about ‘A prenup is just insurance, you might not need it! But you should be prepared anyway cause she could leave you at any time, bro’ and ‘Have you heard of the infidelity clause? I'm not saying she would, but you know what Sarah did to me, better be safe than sorry.’ Rafe’s frustration catches your attention when he curses something about ‘this motherfucker’ under his breath.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Rafe looks up to meet your eyes peeking outside the bathroom door. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his energy has been off ever since he got home today, you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing, it’s just Topper bitching to me about the wedding. He doesn’t think he’ll find a date in time.” Rafe cringes at his white lie, but figures it’s better not to stress you out when you’re about to go to sleep. And it’s not completely untrue, Topper has expressed his concerns about finding a date ever since he found out about the engagement. At this point, it’s to be determined if he’s still invited.

You chuckle at the thought. “Our wedding date is 7 months away, surely that’s enough time.”

“Speaking of our wedding.” Rafe starts, which reminds you of the pit in your stomach. “How did it go with your mom today?”

“It was good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows inquisitively, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice. Finishing your nighttime routine, you make your way to your shared bed. Rafe gets up to meet you halfway and to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be able to tell with just a glance.

“Okay, baby. You know as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Your heart flutters and you smile at him, knowing in your heart that he truly means it. “I know.” You press a kiss to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his large frame. Being in his embrace drowns out any lingering thoughts of frustration. After all, you could choose to blame it on pure exhaustion clouding your mind. “Can you believe we’re getting married in seven months?”

Rafe beams at the thought. “No. Can’t even fathom what I’ve done in my life to deserve you in the first place.”

You shove his chest softly, the tips of your ears warming up at his words. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not sure about that one, baby.”

You sigh, full of contentment while being held in the secure hold of your fiance. Yet a part of you still feels resigned from the stresses of today. “Just ask my mother.”

You can feel Rafe’s muscles tense slightly before he pulls back to look at you. “What do you mean? I thought it went well today?” The gears are turning in his head as he anticipates your response. He’s always been great at picking up on the smallest of cues, be it the change in your tone or the look in your eyes.

“It could’ve been better. I mean you know her, she always has something negative to say about everything, she’s pretty much allergic to my happiness.” You chuckle softly, trying to deflect and keep the conversation from going where it’s headed.

Rafe is having none of it. “She doesn’t think we should get married?”

“Not without her involvement, ad nauseam. Everything I suggested, she had a better idea. She’s trying to guilt trip me into letting her walk me down the aisle instead of my dad. It was just her usual schtick, trying to control me any way she can, hoping she’ll get my attention by using our wedding to play her little mind games.”

“You don’t owe anything to her, not about this. Besides, security will take care of it if there’s any problems. I’m not gonna let anything ruin this for us.”

“I know.” You reassure him, running your hand up and down his arm. “It’s just a lot of tradition this, and family legacy that. She’s sucking the joy out of everything, like usual.” You mumble that last sentence, almost hoping Rafe didn’t hear it. “Not that I’m not excited to marry you. You know what I mean, right?”

Rafe nods, flashing back to the conversation he had with his father at lunch today. It’s almost uncanny to him how you two are often on the same page about everything. It’s comforting above all else. “Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you mean. I had lunch with my dad today, got a lot of the same bullshit.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I shut him down. I guess our parents are just hellbent on making sure we do things the same way they did.”

“As if we want to be anything like them?”

Rafe chuckles at your quip, relieved at how you two are able to make light of the stress your families have imposed on you. “As if.”

You both stand in silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm of being in your lover’s arms. The weight of your worries feel lighter now that you’ve shared them with Rafe, unfortunately knowing that they’ve made a home with you until the big day is over and done with. Hopefully you make it, if the stress doesn’t kill you first. If there’s anyone you’d have by your side through this, it’s Rafe. You can’t imagine enduring the hardships that life has to offer with anyone else. Then again, there are worse problems to have. Just seven more months.

“Did you ever see yourself here before? Getting married?” You ask Rafe.

“Not until I found you.” He charms, satisfied with the way you snuggle even closer to him. “How about you?”

“The same. Never thought I’d find the one until I found you. If I’m honest, that’s all I’m excited for, to just be husband and wife.”

“Y/n?” You hum in response, matching his curious tone. “Do you even want a wedding?”

You freeze, noticeably tensing the same way Rafe did some time ago. You knew the answer and had a feeling that he did too. It was painful to put into words. “I want to be married to you, Rafe. You know that right?”

“I know that, silly. I wanna be married to you too, clearly.” Rafe acknowledges, brushing his thumb over the engagement ring on your finger. “But a ceremony and a reception, the tradition. Do you want that?”

You can’t help but give him a knowing look, one that says damn, you’re good. But it’s also filled with a plea for understanding. “I could live without it, but our wedding will be beautiful, Rafe. I just want to make sure that it’s ours. I hope you don’t have the wrong idea, that I’m having second thoughts or anything because I-”

Rafe cuts off your ramble by kissing you, your face cupped in his hands delicately. He’s gentle, but reassuring. He needs you to remember that he knows you and he’ll never forget.

“Run away with me?” His eyes gaze into yours and there’s an intensity of love behind them that leaves you tearing up. “Our wedding will be beautiful, because it will be ours. Just you and me. We can still have the actual event, don’t think that I don’t dream of you walking down the aisle towards me. We can still have the party and the tall ass cake that you deserve. But having that doesn’t mean we can’t have what we want.”

Rafe’s never been more sure of himself as he watches a tear slip down your cheek, his thumb wiping it away before it can fall too far. You beam at him, and it’s your turn to kiss the man that you love. The man that you’re about to run away and elope with.

“Screw tradition, let’s get married.”

—

The sun sets in the distance, giving you and your husband the perfect view of your spot on the beach, taking turns at feeding each other bites of a miniature cake, coated in a silky white frosting to commemorate your marriage. It was Rafe’s surprise to you, having ordered it custom, and practically overnight, decorated with icing rosettes and your new titles, Mr. and Mrs., written beautifully in the center.

“Our families might kill us, you know.”

Rafe’s smile doesn’t budge, he’s convinced it might just be stuck on his face forever as long as he’s spending it with you. “I guess that means we’ll have to die together then, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.” You whisper, closing the distance to kiss your husband. You’ll never get sick of it. Golden rays from the setting sun surround you in glowing warmth, something you’ll feel in your heart from this day forward. The light catches your diamond ring perfectly and it winks at you with a sparkle, forever a reminder of the love you and Rafe share.

He pulls back, yet never too far as he holds your face in his hands. His cerulean eyes glimmer with a hope you only see when he’s looking back at you. “You don’t regret it? Not having the fairytale wedding?”

“This is my fairytale wedding. Just you, me, and a cake.” Rafe smiles, unable to imagine that this is his real life; unable to imagine that having him and him alone, is more than enough for you. There’s not a decision he’s been more sure of in his life than asking you to marry him. “Do you regret it? Marrying me without a prenup?”

Rafe scoffs lightheartedly. “You’ve already taken my heart so you might as well have the rest. Nothing else matters to me as long as you’re mine and I’m yours. I love you, remember? ‘Til death do us part.”

He holds out his pinky and you happily reciprocate the youthful gesture by locking your fingers together. “‘Til death do us part.”

Emotion overcomes you once more, pouring your heart into a kiss that’s as true as your promise to each other. You know he intends to keep his, and so do you. Daring to love each other through the pretty and the ugly, healing each other with a simple look or touch. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. If you don’t have each other, then you have nothing at all.

💌: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[midnite-c6]

hear me out — nam-gyu is actually soooo icky. i don’t care what anyone tells me. he’s a icky icky man. he’s so fucking mean too. he thinks of women as possessions (he’s sooo misogynistic. you can’t convince me otherwise) like what do you mean women are their own person and can control their own lives?! no…. they are possessions!

additionally, he is sooo convincing with his words — he can get anyone to trust him quite easily (especially if they’re naive) and he’s taking full advantage of that.

honestly nam-gyu probably has anyone naive trying things they were always against. he has such a way with words when it comes to getting anyone to open up or doing what he wants them to do. he'll give them everything they need to get them to say yes even if it means making promises he doesn't even plan to keep or fulfill.

also, no one can convince me otherwise that this man doesn’t have a thing for trad wives. he definitely likes the idea of codependency and the fact that someone clings to him like a second skin (but let’s be honest, he definitely doesn’t make it out to seem like he likes it — it’s always constant degradation from him: “stupid bitch, can’t ever do anything for yourself, huh? i have to do everything for you”). also likes the idea of baby trapping, because you can’t leave him ♡ but 100% does not like kids.

i also can see him fetishizes the FUCK out of lesbians (once again… this man is ICKY) and i definitely feel like if he was the type to get into a relationship with someone who is bisexual (or closeted lesbian. specifically if he coerces them) he would exploit the shit out of it. bro definitely has a premium subscription to ph. constantly doom scrolling to find something he hasn’t watched yet (specifically lesbians or threesomes (two girls, one guy) it’s definitely one of his biggest fantasies. he is soo gross ♡)

he would probably likes giving some naive, lightweight (never done drugs before) drugs that he knows they wouldn’t be able to handle just so he they can take advantage.

I AM GOING INSANEEEE. i am clawing and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

warnings: 18+, DARK content, dubcon, baby trapping

bro i am so sorry i haven't let this out to the public sooner, this is so good and factual fr 💔 like this guy is an misogynistic incel honestly, idfc what anyone else says, u literally can see it in the show how he treats se-mi. he's a meanie.

THE PH SUBSCRIPTION IS SO REAL. also, forces or not, makes u watch porn with him, the disgusting ones like heavy bondage/bdsm, prolly whilst sticking a wand vibrator on ur clit in a setting that's intense BUT wont make u cum so its pure torture..

guys has anyone done se-mi x reader x nam-gyu ? like hello? hello????? ITS RIGHT THERE prolly would watch u & se-mi whilst he's cucking himself. or he's right in the middle of the action, both ur pussies rubbing on his dick.

also, i love nam-gyu corruption kink, to someone whos absolutely clean, pure, law abiding citizen, prolly doesnt even know half of the kinks or stuff u see in pornhub, BUT THAT'S WHY NAM-GYU EXISTS!! to teach you allat, to corrupt u :^

i just dont feel like hes a good person at all, in smut mindset, and in fr the character, hes those toxic bfs who's only "strong" cuz u're just a lil bit weaker than him. and if u try to leave, nuh-uh, u can't, u wanted a child to begin with right?

"fuck you mean, 'i'm leaving you'? bitch please," he scolds, pumping another load inside- straight to your womb, "you wanna be a single mom?" you shake your head immediately, you were on birth control.. but maybe not... oh no! "then don't bullshit me with saying you're 'leaving me'... you know you love me." let's just hope he'll be a good dad... (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

if anyone needs a fluffy lovey namgyu smut this aint the place.. jk, i would prolly post one too heheh <3 also, now i wanna make a full on incel!nam-gyu x reader smut mannn

[perfectlyvalid49]

I think that there are some people who are unfamiliar with the history of antisemitism who aren’t seeing all the different angles of attack that are being used against Jews in the United States right now, so let’s take a minute to examine them.

First, there’s the super obvious attacks that are listed here. The shootings at Tree of Life and at Poway, the Unite the Right rally, the massive increase in antisemitic hate crimes – these are all obviously antisemitic, and really difficult to deny as such unless you’re already really antisemitic.

But we have to take a step back and ask why people are becoming increasingly violent against Jews. Because that’s where there’s antisemitism that a lot of people either don’t see, or refuse to acknowledge. And that’s what @procrazedfan is missing when they said “I don’t think so this time.”

So, I want to start by talking about about the Nazis. Because they also went after non-Jewish people. They targeted non-Aryans, trans people, the rest of the LGBT+ community, and eventually people of other faiths. That list looks awfully similar to the one upthread. But Nazis went after these people because they thought that they were tools Jews were using to destroy German society. And the Republicans are going after these people because they’re tools that the globalists are using to destroy white society. And by globalist, they absolutely mean Jew. There are a million conspiracy theories floating around about why things are so terrible, and virtually all of them point to globalists (Jews), or the Rothschilds (Jews) or George Soros (a Jew) as the base of the problem.

And before anyone starts to think that this is only a problem on the right, the left has the same sort of conspiracies, just tailored to their beliefs, and using the words "Zionist" or "Israel" to mean Jews instead. Trump is in power, at least in part, because the left was too busy attacking Jews or people they perceived to be allies of Jews to even consider the harms a Trump presidency might bring.

And if you’re response to that is, “Well, yeah, but Jews aren’t being directly targeted by Trump’s policies,” then first off, you’re wrong, a lot of Jews are being/will be directly harmed by the laws enforcing Christian supremacy that he’s enabling (just as a start), but also, you’re falling for the plan. You see, for centuries, when kings didn’t want the populace mad at them, they’d find a way to redirect to the Jews. In medieval Europe, this looked like making tax collector one of the few jobs available to Jews, and then getting the commoners mad at the tax *collectors* instead of the guy levying the tax. Hundreds of years later Jews STILL have a reputation of being greedy, even though they were basically just guys who worked for the IRS because the other option was to starve.

Under Trump, it’s going to look like Jews not being the target of legislation that hurts other people. When those people and their allies are rightfully mad that they’re being hosed, it will not be hard for a few people in the right places to shift that anger from the administration (where it belongs) onto the people the administration wants you mad at.

We’re already starting to see this in action. Trump is cracking down on the pro-Palestine protesters in the name of fighting antisemitism. He’s actually testing out how far he can go with limiting freedom of speech and doesn’t care at all about antisemitism, but because he says it’s to fight antisemitism, people who care about freedom of speech are going to be mad about Jews “weaponizing antisemitism” to silence their detractors, and not at the administration that’s actually doing the silencing.

People are going to be mad under the Trump administration. I cannot imagine a future in which he does not make things worse for almost everyone*, and I think it’s going to be bad enough that the populace is going to need the pressure release of a mass violent action, and that’s where this is all going to come together. The right and left both already have conspiracies about how what they’re mad about is the Jews’ fault, and the administration is going to stoke that by making it look like we’re benefiting from their bad actions. They’re coming for us, it’s just slow enough and subtle enough that people who have forgotten what it looked like in the past won’t see it.

*I actually think that with what he’s going to for climate change, he’ll make things worse for actually everyone, even the people who benefit the most from his administration, but that’s a separate rant.

"The fascists hate you too" "they'll come for you next" bitch they are coming for me first. I'm fucking Jewish

[onsomenewsht]

I've got peace and I've got love

About a surprise for your birthday even if you hate your birthday

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 for anyone who needs to feel celebrated

Birthdays are a complicated matter.

You don’t hate them, no one really does.

People should be loved loudly, their mere presence on Earth should be reason enough to celebrate them.

You care about your family and your friends, baking cakes and inflating balloons and dressing up for a themed party are not a problem - you’re the first one to arrive and the last to leave.

Celebrating your birthday though? Hell, no.

For most, it doesn’t make sense.

A day in a whole year when anyone is entitled to be under the biggest spotlight, getting gifts and all the wanted attention. Yet, you’d rather hide in the remotest corner of the planet than hear someone sing “happy birthday” to you.

Despite the insistence and the repeated attempts over the years, your mother has finally accepted that you don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Your best friend has accepted that you’ll avoid a surprise party like the plague. Everyone who knows you, knows it.

Alexia included.

At least she knows now, after last year.

The two of you got together just shy of three months before your birthday. Bless her good heart, she thought a surprise ambush might be appreciated.

She’s not going to make the same mistake twice in a row, but she wants to do something.

“You told me she hates birthdays”, Alba points out, a bit confused, sipping her coffee as if her sister isn’t in the middle of an inconclusive rant.

“She hates her own, not birthdays in general”

“I still think you should just buy her a nice present, wish her a happy birthday and move on like she asked you to do”

“It seems so, I don’t know, incomplete?”, the blonde tries to explain, “How do I make sure I show how much I appreciate her if I can’t celebrate her?”

“You better celebrate her every day, not just on the birthday–”

“I do it, idiot!”

Alexia is quick in her jab, but thankfully the younger girl is used to her attitude by now.

Cup saved from any spill, Alba barely has enough patience to give another, simple pearl of wisdom, “So do it like any other day, but, you know, on her birthday”

It’s good advice, even if she’d never admit it.

Alexia spends most of her day off plotting, her free time during the week before your birthday completely taken over by careful planning and prep.

You can tell immediately that something is off, but you let it slide because she’s cute when she’s on a mission, and you don’t really want to spoil her fun.

At the stroke of midnight, like a mischievous fairy godmother, your best friend calls you to sing a personalized rendition of “Die, Die My Darling” like every year since you’re sixteen and think you’re oh-so-funny.

Your mother sends a present from the entire family, along with a picture of a cake you’re not going to eat but you’re glad they’ll enjoy in your name. Alexia’s mother and sister send flowers, and you have to reassure your girlfriend that it’s a genuinely appreciated sentiment.

Said girlfriend kisses you for every year spent on this Earth and then moves on, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen.

It’s suspicious, really suspicious.

The day passes by without any major incident.

At work just a few colleagues know it’s your birthday, they politely hand you a card with bad jokes written all over it. You mindlessly send the same three reactions at every text message, nonetheless appreciating everyone who remembered and took the time to wish you a happy birthday. A kind waitress adds a slice of dessert as you pick up take-out at your favourite Mexican place, probably prompted by Alexia when she ordered over the phone and sent you to the restaurant.

Guard down, you open the door to your girlfriend’s apartment, still not connecting the dots.

Thank the goddesses and gods above for that nice waitress, because what you find inside is definitely a first and the food wouldn’t have survived the surprise if not for the well-secured package.

Soft music - that, to your shame, you only realise too late is your favorite record - resonates through the room, which is filled with dozens of floating balloons reaching the ceiling.

You take a few tentative steps inside, noticing pictures carefully tied to each string with numbers scribbled on the corners.

Snaps of the past year, memories so simple in their significance you sometimes fail to give a good measure of. Dinners out with friends, an unflattering portrait of an early morning during the summer, the first time holding your niece. You linger over a photo of you and Alexia talking on Mapi’s couch, neither of you looking at the camera, as it’s clear you had eyes only for each other.

“I’ve never seen this one”, you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

Your girlfriend is leaning on the further wall of the entrance, a confident stance failing to hide a note of nervousness. The way her hands are buried in the pocket of old sweatpants and her eyes are studying every single macro-expression shifting on your face are a clear tell for you.

"Ingrid sent it to me some times ago”

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”, she agrees easily, still not daring to come closer.

Alexia’s gaze drops as soon as you notice there’s a handwritten message on the back of every photo, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You take the time to read each one attentively, smiling at her thoughtfulness and the care she put into all the moments chosen. People and occasions that hold meaning for you, no matter how big or small. You feel love in every single one.

“You put a lot of thought into this”

“I had to sacrifice a couple of good ones”, she mumbles, almost upset with herself.

The commitment to matching the number of pictures to your age it’s impressive, you have to admit.

A burst of laughter fills the entire apartment, Alexia finally meeting your gaze and taking in how moved you’re by her surprise.

The fear of overstepping had been like an annoying voice, whispering in her ear as she scribbled on the back of the photos or tried to wrap gifts without running out of patience or tape.

“Do you like it?”, her doubt creeping in her voice.

“I don’t hate it”, you joke, still eager to ease her worries, “No one has ever put this much thought or effort into– I don’t know, celebrating my birthday, I guess”

“You deserve to be celebrated”

You take the few steps to fill the gap between you two, food forgotten somewhere behind, and throw yourself into her already open arms.

“Thank you”

“I love you”

The kiss you share is a clear enough answer. Sometimes, it’s not even necessary to spell it out - action speaks louder than words, they say. She holds you for as long as you need, music still playing softly in the background.

“Is this a good moment to mention that you have to open as many presents as you have in years?”

“Alexia!”

[rafayelsbelovedbride]

Does Rafayel really have to choose MC over Lemuria?

Of course, it looks like in a world where Lemuria is revived, MC cannot be there with him; and similarly, in a world where MC is by Rafayel’s side, Lemurians are forced to live on land, subject to all kinds of abuse out of human greed.

But I don’t think Rafayel even considers MC and Lemuria as separate sides. He did try to do that but in the end, I think, he doesn't want to choose one over the other. The thing is, even without the bond he shares with MC, Rafayel truly cares about all of his followers including MC (even the cat that he took care of for a short while).

If we look at how he acts with people around him, it is so easy to see that he is a very caring god. He attends Talia’s wedding to give his blessings. He prepares a gift for her, he designs her a necklace that would match her wedding dress. Through all the bickering, he sees that Thomas looks up to him and he lets him be by his side. He makes Thomas his manager and invites him to the new year’s celebrations.

He helps others hold the Seamoon ceremony for the deceased, and if that is not possible, he brings the flowers for his follower to the funeral of the man who harmed her.

He cares about the children enough to held special workshops for them, and donates art supplies. He cares about the students he gave lectures to in Linkon University when he was just there to keep an eye on MC. He gives them honest feedback, he lets them criticize his works and he remembers them by their names.

And even when he realizes that one of his students was working with Ever dissecting Lemurian hearts, even when he gets angry at the sudden reveal, Rafayel gives the student a chance to explain himself and lets him go, trusting that the student will maybe find the right path in the future.

Honestly, I think, you have to be a special kind of evil to attract Rafayel’s wrath. Because no matter how hasty he may come of time to time, he is a very patient and understanding person. That’s why he still respects the elder Lemurians even if he keeps running away. That’s why he is still with Amund, listening to his advice even when he obviously doesn’t really like him that much.

No matter how much he tries to appear as a cold person, people around him are always aware that they are in the embrace of his warmth.

And, I really don't think he values one over the other or even makes the MC vs Lemuria comparison at all. The thing is I don’t even think Rafayel’s conflict is directly related to his love for MC. Because, even before MC became his follower and he gave her his heart, Rafayel considered Lemuria’s flame as a poor imitation of the sun, a fire that is not hot but just merely warm. And, he did not like the weak warmth emanated from a flame placed in the middle of a cold and dark room. He wanted to break through the surface and bask in the sun’s glow. Maybe, he had doubts about how the Lemuria worked, how the ceremony was held from the very beginning.

And I think that’s also related to why the Sea God ceremony appeared to “fail”. That disastrous ceremony happened the exact way it was told in the prophecy, stating the fire would go out only to be reignited by him. He still left that ceremony with a newborn flame in his hands. A flame that shook the foundations of Lemuria. And I think the flame Rafayel was supposed to have and the flame he actually has after that ceremony is as different as the fire in the temple and the sun.

I kind of think there were two souls in the beginning. One was supposed to take the heart of the other, and make the heart itself the faith that ignites the flame. And the other was supposed to mix into the sea and disappear, only to come back again and reclaim the heart. And continue this never-ending cycle. This heart, taken by force in such a violent way, could only provide a lukewarm flame that cannot be compared to the power of the sun.

Past Lemuria existed as these two souls stole their warmth away from each other to keep this place, in the bottom of a fissure in the deep sea, warm. The past Lemuria existed through the torturous cycle that had to be upheld by Rafayel and MC.

And, maybe that’s why Rafayel considers his attraction to MC as an addictive painful feeling. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to burn by his love for her. And maybe that’s why it is really important that we see Rafayel leaving these feelings behind and embracing love as an inspiration rather than pain. He's ready to break the cycle now and bring Lemuria the sun, instead of a small flame.

I think what happened during the ceremony was MC showed Rafayel a way out of this cycle by giving him her purest faith without Rafayel taking her heart. Although, they still failed in the end. And ended up continuing this cycle for many more years.

So, maybe the good ending for this story is a good ending for both MC and Rafayel, and Lemuria. A good ending where the Lemuria thrives under its new sun’s glow, and a good ending where MC and Rafayel are always by each other’s sides like two koi fish swimming in a pond.

A good ending where Rafayel doesn't have to choose a side and keeps all his followers safe as the caring god he is.

[suzukiblu]

okay I SLIGHTLY dragged my ass writing/getting this up, it's been kind of A Day(tm), BUT: first day of the first February weekly WIP behind the cut; "the puzzle trap sex-room". content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he's FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. So uh, you know, just Kon's . . . entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Is the possibility of having given Robin an STI the only reason you can think of to be concerned about the events of the night?” Batman asks, perfectly neutral like another fucking trap–like he thinks Superboy’s the stupidest thing alive and gonna fucking fall for that again–and Superboy actually almost does disassemble this whole stupid cave. Or at least that huge-ass computer Batman’s got taking up half a wall over there or maybe some of those fancy Batsuits and all their utility belts full of souped-up gear, anyway. 

He’s real fuckin’ tempted to disassemble the Batmobile. 

Besides, if anyone gave–gave anyone a fucking STI, it was obviously the fucking prick who lied about not having fucking condoms on him. 

“I saved your fucking sidekick’s fucking life, asshole,” Superboy bites off roughly, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. The muscles that try to tense under Superman’s grip can’t–not as much as normal, anyway. Superman’s grip is just–it’s not something Superboy can do anything about, and that is pissing him the fuck off right now. “You could at least pretend to be, I dunno, fuckin’ grateful instead of just being a dick about my goddamn personal life.” 

“You haven’t described your personal life,” Batman says in that same bullshit neutral tone. “Or your dating history, or anything similar. You’ve described predatory adult women taking advantage of their age and experience to manipulate and take advantage of you.” 

“Let the fuck go of me or I’m gonna fucking make somebody sorry about it,” Superboy says to Superman, his voice flatter than the goddamn floor. Like–very literally flatter, since some of the floor’s clearly kinda just hacked out of the rock. 

He is actually about to go fucking nuclear on this bullshit non-conversation where no one’s fucking listening to him. 

Getting fucking lectured is not, in fact, any kind of a conversation. 

And he’s not–like, what the fuck is this bullshit, where they’re pretending like they’re asking him things and all they’re actually doing is making fucking assumptions and twisting everything he does say and not even fucking listening to him! 

“Kid, we just–” Superman starts in that bullshit voice like he’s trying to sound concerned instead of ever fucking listening to him or, you know, letting him the fuck go, and well–Superboy fucking warned him, didn’t he. 

So he grabs every single piece of the Batmobile down to the absolute last, and then he rips it all apart all at once and drops it. 

Though once he’s done that, he just to rip apart a whole lot more. 

The Batmobile collapses every which way and all its parts and pieces hit the floor in a massive cacophony of clattering and crashing and Robin jerks in alarm, whipping his head towards the pieces of it as they scatter across the floor. Superman startles a little too, and Superboy’s still not done being fucking pissed, actually, so he just–he still wants to rip apart this whole fucking cave and everything in it and just–just rip it apart, just–just–

“Let me go, you fucking prick,” he hisses up at Superman. “You have literally never cared before and I don’t give a fuck about your opinion about who I’m fucking anyway!” 

“Superboy,” Robin interjects carefully as he glances back towards them–fucking carefully, like he thinks Superboy’s somebody who needs handled carefully, who can’t handle his own shit, the patronizing piece of–“You did describe crimes. Legally, like . . . at least a couple of those situations are crimes.” 

Of course that’s what the asshole decides to fucking speak up about, Superboy thinks as a spike of fury stabs into his gut.