#and i want you to hate every second of it and hate me for doing it and i don't want to take your comfort and pleasure into account

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

[monstersholygrail]

Demon Priest knows you hate to beg, and he’d never be one to make you do so. No, not his blessing. His gift. His everything. He lives to serve you. Whatever you ask for he will acquire without hesitation. But that doesn’t mean he can’t make you admit how badly you need him in other ways.

He bends you over the alter, the church empty. But Demon Priest would worship you in front of the masses if only you’d let him. He rubs his cock along your dripping slit, mixing his precum with your slick. Your pussy throbs, senses tingling. He’s so close to where you need him most.

“Put in—hmm— put it in,” you moan, hips wiggling against his. His cock catches onto your entrance and you suck in a harsh breath. He chuckles lowly in your ear.

“Oh, you want something? Tell me what you want, precious dove,” he rasps, his voice sending sparks that go straight to your core. A long whine leaves you.

“You know what.”

“But I wanna hear you say it, my love. What would you like me to stuff inside you,” he starts, his voice turning into a rough growls as his claws dig into your hips.

A high pitched mewl tears from your throat and echos off the empty church walls. No one but him and God there to witness such a blessed sound.

“Your cock!” You shout in desperation, pussy clenching around the bit of his tip pressed against you.

“How bad you want it?” He asks darkly as he starts to push in.

You let out a long moan, pushing back to help suck in his cock but his claws keep you in your place. You’re stuck going at his pace and he goes as slow as he seems bearable. The warmth of your slick walls proving relief for the stinging pain in his feet.

“S-sooo bad,” you whine, feeling the way your body slowly stretches around his girth, accommodating such a dizzying size. Every vein brushes along your depths and your body pulses with need.

Demon Priest huffs out a growl with every breath as your tightness nearly suffocates him. He leans over you, his frame swallowing your plump body, surrounding you with him and only him. His hot breath fans your ear and you clench around him, only serving to make him snarl at you.

“Now what would you like? You know I live to serve my God,” he says, voice sounding more demonic by the second.

“M-move.”

“Move?” He asks, his voice almost playful as he starts pulling out of you. You immediately whine in protest, core clenching around him to keep him trapped inside. Demon Priest lightly scrapes along your belly to restrain himself, his jaw clenching.

“Fuck me, please!” You cry out and Demon Priest roars, slamming his cock inside you at full force.

A massive claw reaches and brings your head down onto the alter. Keeping you positioned perfectly for him as Demon Priest brutally fucks up into your sopping cunt. From your place on your alter you can only just see his true demonic form and your pussy ripples along his length, making his thrusts grow even rougher as he splits you open on his cock.

“As you so command, little dove,” he says deeply through broken moans.

His eyes flash and you know you’ve unleashed something within him that you can’t contain. At least not until he’s forced a few dozen orgasms out of your ruined pussy.

But it’s alright. There isn’t another service until next Sunday. And Demon Priest is going to take advantage of every second he has alone with you inside this holy sanctum, and yours.

[1989worshipper]

if ur like me and loved this so much you wanted a second part, i got chatgpt to write one!!!

@marinalor @capricp @imagineme2you @onlyangle1 @lokalblackie @imjustsomesoup @obsessedftshit @jupiter-rebel @seasonswinter @lovingyeet @gabsssssblog @doodlebug0105 @I-wonder-I

——————————————————————

Later that night, Five finds himself pacing in Elliot's dimly lit living room. The gnawing feeling in his chest has been building ever since he saw you. It’s not just the fact that you’ve been living here with Elliot, looking so at ease, or that you brushed him off without a second thought—it’s the way you didn’t even try to fix his tie.

It’s stupid, he knows it. But that one gesture was always yours. It was how you calmed him, how you managed to worm your way into his walls back at the Commission, and he hated how much he missed it.

Elliot is tinkering with his equipment at the kitchen counter, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Five’s head. You’re perched on the arm of the couch, idly flipping through an old magazine. Five’s eyes keep darting toward you, and it’s driving him mad.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to sit there and do nothing while the world falls apart?”

You don’t even glance up from the magazine. “You’re a big boy, Five. You’ve got this.”

The sarcasm in your tone sends a spike of irritation through him. “I thought you cared about the fate of humanity.”

“Oh, I do.” You close the magazine and set it on the table with a calmness that only stokes Five’s frustration. “But you made it pretty clear how you felt about me. So why would I waste my time tagging along just to annoy you?”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. He hadn’t expected you to throw his own words back at him, and it stings more than he wants to admit.

Before he can respond, Elliot pipes up. “So, uh, what’s the deal with you two? Exes? Rivals? Star-crossed lovers?”

You snort, and Five glares at Elliot. “None of your business,” he snaps.

Elliot raises his hands in surrender, muttering, “Touchy subject.”

You stand, brushing off your pants. “I’m heading to bed. Good luck with the apocalypse, Five.”

Five blinks as you retreat down the hall. He wants to follow, to say something—anything—but his pride keeps him rooted to the spot.

The next day, Five finds himself once again trying to rally everyone together. After a frustrating series of events involving his siblings, he returns to Elliot’s place to regroup. When he walks in, the sight of you laughing with Elliot feels like a punch to the gut. You’re leaning over the table, pointing out something on the Scrabble board, and Elliot is smiling like an idiot.

It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t care. But he does.

“Am I interrupting?” he says flatly.

You glance up, your expression neutral. “Not at all. Did you manage to save the world yet?”

“Working on it,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket. His eyes land on your hand, which is casually resting on Elliot’s shoulder. The frothy feeling in his stomach is back with a vengeance.

He walks over, standing directly in front of you. “Can I talk to you? Alone.”

You raise an eyebrow but follow him into the next room. He closes the door behind you and turns to face you, his tie once again deliberately crooked.

“What is it, Five?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall.

“I need you to come with me,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

You tilt your head, clearly unimpressed. “Why? So you can yell at me again? Remind me how I’m just a nuisance?”

He flinches at your words, guilt flickering in his expression. For a moment, he just stares at you, jaw tight. Then he exhales sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly. “No. That’s not why. I… I need to fix things. With you.”

Your brows furrow. “Fix things? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m sorry,” he blurts, the words rushing out before he can stop them. His voice is uncharacteristically unsteady, but he presses on. “I was an ass to you back at the bowling alley. And every moment after. I was stressed, angry, and… I pushed you away because I thought that was easier than letting you in. Easier than admitting I needed you.”

You blink, clearly taken aback, but he doesn’t stop.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” he continues, pacing a little. “That your ridiculous nicknames and constant tie-fixing were just distractions. But I was wrong. Because when you stopped—when you weren’t there anymore—” He looks up at you, his green eyes sharp yet vulnerable. “I realized how much I relied on you. How much I… missed you.”

Your lips part slightly, but no words come out. Five takes a cautious step closer.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he admits, his voice dropping lower. “But I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. So please… come back. Not for the mission or the apocalypse—just for me.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the weight of his words settling between you like something fragile. Your heart twists at the vulnerability he rarely, if ever, shows.

“Five…” you say softly, searching his face. “Do you really mean that? Or is this just another way to get me to follow orders?”

His lips press into a thin line, and he shakes his head. “This isn’t about orders. It’s about me being an idiot and finally realizing what I had before it was gone.”

You sigh, stepping forward until you’re inches away from him. His tie is crooked—deliberately so, you suspect. You raise an eyebrow at him, and his lips quirk into a faint smirk, as if daring you.

Your hands rise to fix it, the familiar gesture grounding you both. His breath hitches slightly, but he doesn’t move, watching you intently.

“There,” you say quietly, fingers lingering on the fabric. “Back to normal.”

“Not quite,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s a start.”

You hesitate, then take a step back, crossing your arms again. “I’ll come with you. But you’ve got to prove you actually care, Five. Actions, not just words.”

A flicker of relief flashes across his face, and he nods. “Fair enough.”

As he turns to leave the room, you call after him. “One more thing.”

He glances over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t screw this up,” you warn, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

His smirk returns, more genuine this time. “I don’t plan to.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a glimmer of hope between you. And for Five, that’s more than enough to fight for.

I've got a sinking feeling - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: You are very flirty with Five, and he's tricked himself into believing he hates it. He tells you to stop. Then he learns the hard way how much he took you for granted when you meet someone else.

Note: Five requests would be very appreciated! Thank you to those who sent requests on my last one shot.

(Not Edited)

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Extra Information: Viisi means Five in Finnish. Five and Y/n were partners in the commission. They look seventeen or eighteen instead of thirteen. This one-shot takes place on the last episode of season one, and the entirety of season two.

----

The Academy, Five's home, has just collapsed--courtesy of Vanya's new powers--and Five ordered his family to meet at Super Star Lanes bowling alley to come up with a new plan of action.

He grabs your wrist, blinking you with him. You're both in front of the bowling alley in a flash of blue.

Five takes a moment to pace around, not entering the building. The crisp, spring air bites at your earlobes as you hug your sides for warmth

"Hey, Viisi, can we go inside?" You look at him with a grimace and a pleading smile. He whips his head in your direction to glare at you, then strolls inside with a roll of his eyes. You follow in his stead.

The interior is heated, thankfully. Five informs the underpaid worker that his "parents" will be arriving shortly to pay for his bowling shoes. He takes a seat adjacent to Lane 6 and you sit next to him.

"So, how was the farewell with Delores? I know you two were close." You lean back in your seat, getting more comfortable while waiting for Five's siblings to arrive.

He does not look at you. His jaw ticks in annoyance, mistaking your genuine curiosity for mockery.

"Come onnn, I know you're stressed, but this is your sister. I'm sure she's reasonable enough not to end the world." You turn towards him, leaning your elbows on your thighs and admiring his pretty face.

"No, it's not that." He scoffs, looking at you with a sneer.

You notice that his tie is crooked so you reach out to fix it, like you often do. It's sort of your thing.

He smacks your hand away and you raise an eyebrow.

"You okay Viisi?" You rub your hand a little, surprised. Normally, he lets you fix his tie with no problem. Although, he would grumble about it a little.

"God- No. I'm not okay." He puts his hands in his hair, gripping it slightly with an exasperated expression. "And stop calling me that."

"What?" You breathe with a smile of disbelief. "What's going on? Did something happen- Did I do something?" You lean away from him a little to give him more space.

"Stop, just stop it with the touching and the nicknames. I'm sick of it!" He looks at you with cold eyes. This is very unusual of him.

You cock your head to the side, trying to understand. "Five, I thought- I thought that was our thing! Y'know, the friendly banter and-"

"I know you're desperate for some sort of relationship with me, but I'm here to tell you that it's not going to happen. We were only ever co-workers." He says through gritted teeth, avoiding your eyes. "I'm telling you to stop pursuing me." 'Pursuing' him?

Usually you would brush this sort of behavior off, ignore it. Tell yourself that it's only because he's stressed. He's always stressed! Thinking back, he was never all that nice to you. Even in your Commission days.

You'd tricked yourself into thinking that maybe he thought you were special, or that you were at least his friend. His confidant.

You look at him with eyes full of hurt, which Five has never seen from you. He almost feels something bubbling up his throat, but the feeling dissipates quickly. "Have I made myself clear?" He says evenly.

You only nod, turning away so he doesn't see the tears prick at your eyes.

Five's siblings come inside and you two don't speak to each other again.

A year and seven months later (for you, at least.)

1963, Dallas Texas:

Five anxiously pulls at his tie after narrowly escaping three armed Swedish men. He had just watched his siblings, along with you, blow up in yet another nuclear explosion. It's left him oddly shaken up about how he treated you back in 2019.

He's pacing down the alley-way between the Commerse and Knox when he notices a flash atop the roof. A large camera of some sort.

A brown haired man closes his window briskly. That's strange.

Five teleports inside, scaling up a flight of stairs with cat-like agility. When he knocks on a door, the one beside him answers, revealing a mouse-y looking man in his early thirties. He looks at him with big, expectant eyes.

"What do you want." His tone is dripping with suspicion.

"Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group. I was curious if-" Five gets a door to the face. He huffs, blinking inside after him.

The man, Elliot, jumps, yelping in fear and pulling out a butter-knife from his drawer of kitchen utensils. "H-how did you do that?" He hesitates, astonished.

Five looks at him with amusement. "Don't really have time to explain."

Elliot runs a hand through his unkempt brown hair, gripping the butter-knife in a feeble attempt to protect himself. "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

"Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI? KGB?"

Five eyes up the kitchen, noticing a coffee pot on the other side of the room. "Is that fresh?" He uses his powers again, blinking himself right in front of the coffee pot.

Elliot screams, whipping his head back and forth between the place Five just was and the place he appeared. "What..." He pants, eyes wide.

"Elliot? You okay?" Five hears a faraway voice from another room. A familiar voice. "Who's with you?" It asks.

You appear from around the corner, presumably from Elliot's bedroom, looking almost two years older.

Five furrows his eyebrows and so do you. He breathes out your name is what you almost register as relief. But, you know better then to think that.

"Oh, Five. You're back." You say casually, nodding and crossing your arms. Five sets the coffee down, unwillingly noticing how you didn't call him by his nickname.

"How long have you been here?" He walks towards you, looking at your slightly different features. You changed your hair, he observes. He says nothing about it.

"A year and a half, I believe." You tap your chin in thought. Elliot glances between you two with interest or surprise.

"You two know each-other?" He puts the butter-knife back onto the counter with a small clatter.

You nod, shrugging. "We were co-workers." You send Elliot a reassuring, genuine smile.

Co-workers. Five doesn't like how the word rolled off your tongue.

He licks his lips, looking away. "You live here?" He asks you, although it was a silly question considering its obvious answer.

You nod with tight lipped smile, approaching Elliot. You fix his hair with your fingers and flip the collar of his flannel back down. "Did he scare you? I told you he could be a bit much."

Elliot exhales a shaky laugh at your words and actions as Five begins to feel a hot, frothy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He changes the subject. "Are my siblings here too?"

Elliot answers for you, looking back towards the teen again. "The other six anomalys- The power surges." He begins to look excited at this new discovery. "They're your siblings?"

Five ticks his jaw, ignoring him. "So they're alive..." He begins to pace around. "I think I stranded them here. Now listen to me..."

"Elliot." You tell him his name.

"Whatever, alright? I got ten days to find them and save the world." He points to you and Elliot. "Now, I need your help to do that."

Elliot is just so happy to be involved, his three year long project finally achieving some major development. He scrambles to find a certain newspaper scrap from his desk drawer. "You know what? I, uh..." He fumbles with it, handing it to Five.

"I always thought that this, uh, mugshot looked like arrival number four."

"Diego." Five reads softly, then he twists around to face you. "You're coming with me." He states.

You hiss awkwardly through your teeth, avoiding his eyes. "Ohh, about that... Actually, Elliot and I were about to play Scrabble. It's Scrabble night."

Five narrows his eyes at you, barking your name. "The world is ending and you're just gonna play Scrabble with this homebody?"

Elliot looks at his dusty wooden floors with a look of dejection.

"Uh, yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna do." You lean against the door-frame with a bored expression. "I thought you wanted me to stop following you around like a lost puppy."

Five feels strange. "You know what? I don't need this." He blinks away to search for Diego.

When Five returns from the strip club, after a failed attempt of recruiting both Luther and Diego, he decides to test something. His fingers reach for his tie, pulling at it and skewing it. Perfectly crooked.

You couldn't resist fixing his tie, he knew this.

So why didn't you? He finds himself uncharacteristically frustrated about your unresponsiveness.

As he demands that Elliot develop his Frankel Footage, his eyes trail to you occasionally, silently tempting you to straighten his tie.

Your eyes flicked to it once. However, you made no move to adjust it.

Five heaves a dramatic sigh, angrily fixes it, and leaves to look for Vanya.

He messed up before, he realizes. He feels like shit.

[er1nne]

fix this

⸝⸝⸝ ⑅ ���໒ྀི ִֶָ rafe’s impulsive actions and failed attempt to fix things with a ignite a heated argument, leaving you feeling unseen and misunderstood.

word count 1.7k

warnings : yelling & arguments so angst but ends on a good note / fluff

AN: the problem is left ambiguous & left to the imagination so you can make up the problem, you guys loved the last one lol :) i have plenty more in the vault so let me know if y'all want them. enjoy!

(please do not copy or plagiarize, this is my original work subject to copyright)

Rafe knows he’s in deep shit. He can tell he’s in deep shit. And he barely knows how he got here...nope he totally know how he got here.

The weight of it presses on his chest like a cinder block, a suffocating reminder of the mess he’s made. It’s the first thing he feels when he hears your footsteps stomping up the stairs on to the porch. The tightness in his stomach churns, and his hands instinctively find the edge of the counter, gripping it hard enough that his knuckles pale.

He rubs his hand over his jaw, rough and restless, staring at the front door like it might swallow him whole. It doesn’t. The door swings open, and there you are—eyes already blazing with fury, every bit of it directed at him.

You slam the door behind you with a force that makes him flinch. The sharp crack of wood echoes in the silence before you speak.

“I can’t believe you, Rafe!” you snap, your voice trembling, sharp enough to cut. “Do you ever think? Like, at all?”

The way you look at him—like he’s the worst kind of idiot—makes him stiffen, though he leans back against the counter, trying to feign some level of calm. It doesn’t work. He hates that look, not just from you but from anybody.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” he says, shrugging in what he hopes comes off as nonchalant. But his voice falters just slightly, betraying him. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, even as the words leave his mouth. Way to put a foot in your mouth.

“Oh, my God.” You throw your hands up, your movements jerky, overwhelmed. “You didn’t think it was that big of a deal? Of course, you didn’t. You never think!”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, sharp and piercing. He runs a hand through his hair, yanking at the strands in frustration. There you go again. Can't you tell he's sorry. Why'd you have to go there of all places. Why’d you have to say it like that? “Alright, just—calm down for a second,” he says, his tone already edging into defensive territory. “You’re making it sound worse than it is.”

“Calm down?” you repeat, and there’s a bitter edge to your voice that makes his stomach twist. “You think I’m overreacting?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he fires back, the words snapping out of him before he can stop them. His shoulders are tense, his movements jerky as he gestures vaguely between the two of you. “I’m saying I didn’t mean for it to be—whatever this is.”

You scoff, shaking your head as if the audacity of his explanation is too much to comprehend. “Unbelievable. You don’t even get it, do you? You don’t care how this makes me feel. You just do whatever you want, and I’m supposed to just—deal with it?”

“That’s not fair,” he says through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching as he pushes off the counter. “I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“But you didn’t care enough to stop and think about me, either,” you shoot back, your voice rising with each word. “Do you have any idea how that feels? To know that I don’t even cross your mind when you make these dumb, impulsive decisions?”

The words hit him hard, like a gut punch he didn’t see coming. He exhales sharply, his frustration boiling over. He paces a few steps, his hands restless, like he’s trying to find an outlet for the tension coiling in his chest.

“Look, I—I’m trying, alright?” he says, his voice rough and strained. “I know I screwed up. That’s why I got you this.”

He gestures toward the counter, where an expensive box sits, perfectly wrapped with a crisp bow. It’s something he picked up earlier, certain it would fix everything. Now, standing here under your fiery gaze, it feels like a monument to his failure.

Your eyes flick to the box, then back to him, your expression darkening. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“What?” he says, his voice rising with confusion and a touch of defensiveness. He throws his arms out, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I was trying to—”

“It’s not about the damn gift, Rafe!” you yell, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your emotions. “This isn’t something you can fix with money. Do you think I’m that shallow? You think you can throw a couple of thousands at me and it'll make my feelings go away?”

Your breath stutters for a moment before continuing, “Do you think I’m like all the other girls you’ve bought? You can’t do that with me. You can’t just throw money at this and expect it to go away. You have to be a person—a human—with me.”

He flinches, the words cutting deeper than he cares to admit. “No, that’s not—I’m just trying to fix it, okay?” His voice rises in desperation now. “I don’t know what else you want from me!”

“I want you to feel something!” you snap, the tremor in your voice betraying the raw hurt beneath your anger. “I want you to stop throwing money at everything and actually care about how I feel. But I guess that’s asking too much.”

The accusation lands like a blow, and he’s left staring at you, at the tears brimming in your eyes. The anger drains from his face, leaving something raw and uncertain in its place.

“I do care,” he says quietly, his voice rough and uneven. “I just—I don’t know how to… do this.” His hands move in an awkward, aimless gesture, like the words he needs are somewhere just out of reach. His voice is low, almost a whisper. It’s the kind of vulnerability he doesn’t like showing—doesn’t know how to. But he can’t bring himself to look away from you as he peers at you with those icy eyes.

You scoff, shaking your head again, but you don’t storm out. He notices this, clings to it like a lifeline, grateful in a way he doesn’t know how to put into words.

“Look,” he says, stepping closer, his movements hesitant, cautious. His hands twitch at his sides like they’re drawn to you, but he doesn’t touch you—not yet. “I’m not good at this, alright? I screw up—a lot. But I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hate seeing you like this.”

Your shoulders sag, and for a moment, you look just as tired as he feels. “Then stop making me feel like I don’t matter,” you murmur, your voice softer now, but no less weighted. “Stop acting like I’m just… an afterthought.”

“You’re not,” he says quickly, his voice firm and insistent. He steps closer, his hands finally settling on your arms. “You’re not an afterthought, okay? You’re—you’re everything to me. I just don’t know how to show it sometimes.”

For a moment, you don’t respond. You just stand there, his hands warm and solid against your arms, the tension between you palpable. Then, slowly, you look up at him.

“I just need to know you’re willing to change, I need you to try...” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion.

The room feels smaller now, the space between you charged but quieter. His hand moves, almost hesitantly, until it settles lightly on your arm. “I don’t know how to do this,” he repeats, his voice rough and uneven. “But I want to. For you.”

You search his face, your gaze lingering on his eyes like you’re trying to find something—sincerity, maybe. And when you finally nod, your body relaxing slightly in his grip, it feels like the first breath he’s taken in hours.

“You better,” you say, your voice quiet but steady now.

“I will,” he promises. Rafe’s lips twitch upward, his own smile soft and unsure. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. His arms wrap around the entirety of your body, holding you in his warm embrace like he never wants to let go. You feel his heartbeat against yours as the remenants of his anger fade away.

It’s not a perfect fix. Not even close. But as he holds you close, he feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s finally starting to understand.

divider by @crazyfrm!

[rosemariiaa]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 02, 𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

rosie’s note: hi :), sooo don’t yell at me y’all know i’m sensitive, but yes apologies this was supposed to come out wayyy sooner but i’ve had a lot going on with my personal life i barely had time to write but luckily i finished this up! ik almost people were confused on the cliffhanger so i hope i explained it well in this chapter :) happy reading lovelies 💌

pairing: Paige x Azzi

themes: hurt/comfort, guilt, angst

enjoy!!!

march 21, 2014

The cursor blinked at me, expectant. Judging.

Her name sat on the tip of my tongue. Not the one she introduced herself with, not the nickname she had tossed at me under the swing set like it was armor. Her real name. The one she’d trusted me with just days before everything shattered.

I hovered over the keyboard. How many times had I visited this account in the past two months? More than I could count. The anonymity she clung to should have been enough to keep me from connecting the dots. But the username—UnicornPuppy35—was a clue I couldn’t ignore, not after that rainy night, not after the slippers and the shirt that practically screamed it.

Azzi.

The realization should have made me stop, made me put down my phone and walk away. She didn’t know it was me. She didn’t know I was the one lurking, soaking up every word she wrote, piecing together her sadness, her anger, her loneliness. And she couldn’t find out—not like this.

If she did… God, if she ever found out, I wasn’t sure what would happen. She’d hate me more than she already did, and I couldn’t stand to see that look on her face again.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. The memory of her tears still burned, sharp as glass.

flashback ⤑ february 13, 2013

The rain came down hard that night, the kind of downpour that soaked through your skin and left you raw.

I didn’t know why I left the house. Maybe it was the yelling, or maybe it was the silence that followed. Either way, I ended up at the park. The swings creaked under the weight of the wind, and the only other person there was huddled on one, head bowed as rain dripped from her curls and onto her bright pink unicorn shirt.

I almost walked away. She looked like she wanted to be alone, and honestly, so did I. But something stopped me—a tilt of her head, maybe, or the way her shoulders shuddered even as she sat still.

“Hey,” I said, stepping closer. The ground squelched under my shoes.

She looked up, startled. Her eyes, wide and brown, met my baby blues for half a second before darting away. “What do you want?”

I hesitated, shrugging. “Nothing. Just… didn’t think anyone else would be out here.”

Her laugh was bitter, like she didn’t believe me. She didn’t say anything else, just looked back down at her feet, the tips of her sneakers brushing the muddy ground.

I should’ve walked away. Instead, I sat on the swing next to her.

Over the next two weeks, those nights at the park became a ritual. When the lights in our houses went out, we met under the cover of darkness, sharing pieces of ourselves with kind of fully unraveling almost everything.

She told me about the girl at school—the one who dunked her head in the toilet and called her the f-slur. Her voice cracked when she said it, and my chest ached with something I didn’t quite understand.

“She’s just a bitch,” I said, reaching out without thinking. My hand landed on her shoulder, the fabric of her hoodie rough and wet under my palm. “You didn’t deserve that.”

She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at me either. “It’s not just her,” she muttered. “It’s… everyone.”

The night Azzi told me about the girl at school, something in her broke. Her voice cracked, a sharp edge slicing through the usual monotone she used when talking about her day.

“I didn’t even do anything,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. Her breath came out in shivers, her curls dripping rainwater down her back. “She just—she said I was looking at her skirt, and the next thing I know, I’m—”

Her voice wavered, and she stopped. She didn’t have to finish. I could picture it: the cold porcelain, the laughter, the humiliation.

“She has to be insecure or something,” I said quickly, fumbling for the right words. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Azzi. She’s just taking her misery out on you.”

Azzi didn’t look convinced. Her lip trembled, and she pressed her face into her knees, hiding the tears I knew were falling.

I sat there, helpless. I wasn’t good at this—comforting people, saying the right thing. But I didn’t want her to feel alone.

“You wanna egg her house?” I joked, my voice soft. “Or, I don’t know, slash her parents tires?”

She huffed a wet laugh, the sound muffled by her hoodie. “She’d probably call the cops.”

“She’s a snitch, too?” I gasped dramatically, hoping to coax another laugh out of her. “That’s it. We’re definitely egging her house.”

Azzi peeked up at me, her eyes red and puffy but lighter somehow. “You’re stupid,” she said, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

——-

A few nights later, that’s when things fell apart.

I was at the park first, waiting for Azzi, when a group of girls from my neighborhood showed up. I didn’t know them well, but they were loud and funny in that kind of way that made you want to laugh along just to fit in.

We were sitting on the picnic table, their chatter filling the silence, when one of them asked, “Hey, Paige, why do you always hang out with that girl?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Who?”

“You know, that Azzi girl,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Nobody hangs out with her.”

My stomach twisted. “Why not?”

The girl snorted. “Her mom’s, like, weird. Always with a new boyfriend or whatever. It’s embarrassing. She’s just a weirdo and looks weird.”

My jaw tightened. Before I could respond, another girl chimed in, laughing. “And her hair! It’s like, doesn’t she know what a brush is?”

The table erupted in laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in. I glanced at the path leading to the swings, my heart sinking.

“Paige,” a voice said behind me.

I froze.

Azzi stood there, her face pale and her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her mouth opened, then closed, and she shook her head, stepping back as if I’d physically struck her.

“Azzi, wait—” I started, scrambling off the table, but she was already turning away.

“Don’t,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Just… don’t.”

I ran after her, catching her arm as she reached the edge of the park. “Azzi, I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” she snapped, whirling around. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her voice rising in anger. “Wasn’t laughing at me? Wasn’t sitting there while they trashed me?”

“I didn’t say anything!” I protested, my chest tight.

“That’s the problem!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “You just sat there, Paige. You didn’t even try to stop them, you let them say those things.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck in my throat.

“Forget it,” she muttered, yanking her arm free. She wiped at her face angrily, her curls sticking to her cheeks. “I should’ve known better.”

“Azzi, come on,” I pleaded, my voice softer now. “It’s not like that—”

“What’s it like, then?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty clear. I just don’t understand after all those nights I cried to you P.. how could you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. By the time I found the words, she was already gone.

present day 2014

It’s been weeks since Azzi and I started talking online, just the two of us, anonymously. We’ve gotten comfortable—well, as comfortable as we can with the fake names and hidden identities. I try not to think about the lies I’m keeping from her, but I know deep down it’s the only way I can stay connected to her. She has to trust me, or she’ll leave. And I can’t handle that. Not again.

It’s the last day of school, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement as I head to the bus. I can’t wait to get home, and send Azzi a message—anything really. I don’t care if it’s about her puppy or the weather or something ridiculous. I just want to talk to her.

I find a seat on the bus and pull out my phone. As the bus rumbles on, I open up Blogspot. I scroll through the messages Azzi and I exchanged earlier, just before school started. I can’t help but laugh at the part where she told me her dog, Stewie, peed in her shoe. That image—her tiny, brown wiener dog peeing in her brand new sneakers—was so perfectly her. Her humor, her frustration, her charm.

I giggle, but then it hits me. The guilt. It crashes over me, sudden and sharp, like a wave I didn’t see coming. My thumb freezes over the screen, hovering over the keyboard. I look at the conversation, at the funny banter we shared this morning, and my chest tightens. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.

If she knew who I really was, if she knew the truth about why I was pretending to be someone else… she would never look at me the same way again. She’d leave me. She would never trust me again.

I feel the tightness in my chest grow, and I look out the window, trying to distract myself. But it’s no use. The guilt is like a weight on my shoulders, pressing down harder the longer I sit with it. Every word I’ve typed to Azzi, every moment I’ve shared with her—it’s all a lie. And I hate myself for it.

But I can’t stop. I can’t let her go again. It pained me the first time…it won’t happen again.

I stare at the phone in my hand, biting my lip. What if she finds out? What if she figures it out before I can come clean?

What if? What if? What if?

The thought is too much. I set the phone down on my lap, staring out the window, hoping the weight in my chest will ease.

A few minutes later, my phone vibrates in my lap. A new message.

unicornpuppy35: p, i just got home and stewie’s tryna eat my shoelace again. i swear this dog’s scheming.

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. My thumb hovers over the screen again. I want to reply, want to send something funny, something comforting, but all I can think about is how this isn’t real. None of it is real.

boogers_p: obviously. stewie’s prolly like, “shoelaces are phase one. world domination’s next.”

unicornpuppy35: no fr, this little dude really thinks he runs the place.

boogers_p: i mean… does he not? u literally pay rent in shoelaces and snacks.

unicornpuppy35: and socks. don’t forget the socks. he got one of mine this morning smh.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh too loud as I typed back.

boogers_p: rip to the sock. gone but not forgotten.

The typing bubble popped up and disappeared a few times before finally settling on:

unicornpuppy35: ur so ridiculous, p. u know that?

boogers_p: i’ve heard rumors.

I paused, smirking at the screen. Then, a thought hit me, and her fingers flew over the keyboard.

boogers_p: ok, real question. what’s stewie short for? or did u just look at him and go, “yup, that’s a stewie”?

There was a pause before Azzi’s response came through.

unicornpuppy35: named him after breanna stewart.

I blinked at the screen, my smile softening. Of course she did.

boogers_p: oh damn, respect. stewie’s a legend fr but no surprise you chose her.

unicornpuppy35: p, language. and duhh, hence the name.

boogers_p: my bad my bad, but u really said, “lemme name my dog after greatness.” iconic move, puppy.

I knew the nickname would get to her. It always did. The reply came fast.

unicornpuppy35: stop calling me that!!!

boogers_p: nah. it fits too good. also, it’s cute. like u.

Shit. There was a long pause before I saw the typing bubble flicker again.

unicornpuppy35: u really know how to get on my nerves, huh?

boogers_p: talent, tbh.

Azzi’s response came slower this time:

unicornpuppy35: sometimes i wonder why i even talk to u.

Paige snorted, her thumbs moving fast.

boogers_p: cuz i’m funny. and charming. and u lowkey love me. just admit it.

The reply took a moment.

unicornpuppy35: …maybe stewie loves u. that’s as close as ur getting.

I barked out a laugh, the sound drawing a curious glance from the kid across the aisle.

boogers_p: i’ll take it. tell stewie i’m his #1 fan.

unicornpuppy35: he’ll probably steal another shoelace to celebrate.

boogers_p: a king. truly.

I stared at the screen for a second longer, my chest feeling warm and tight in a way I couldn’t even describe.

unicornpuppy35: u good, peanut? u seem kinda off lately.

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, my mouth forming into a small smile at my nickname. Azzi always asked. I didn’t know how she managed to carry so much and still notice the little things about me. God.

boogers_p: yeah, i’m straight. just tired, you know?

unicornpuppy35: don’t let it get to u p. me and stewie got ur back.

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat, her reply coming slower this time.

boogers_p: thanks, puppy. u and stewie the real mvps fr.

Pup- I mean Azzi’s reply was just a string of eye-roll emojis, but I could picture the grin on her face. I wish I could just see it for myself.

boogers_p: love u too.

So much.

I send the message, knowing I can’t keep lying forever. But for now, I’ll hold on.

——-

Paige walked into her room, shutting the door with a quiet click, as if any louder might let her thoughts escape into the world. Tossing her bag into the corner, she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her clothes, leaving a trail toward the bathroom. The hot water scalded her pale skin, but she barely noticed, the familiar ache in her chest louder than the pounding spray.

When she came out, dressed in an oversized T-shirt, her damp hair sticking to her neck, she flopped onto her bed. She should sleep. She needed sleep. But instead, her hand reached for the scrapbook tucked under her nightstand.

Opening it, her heart clenched as she stared at the first photo—Azzi on the swing set, caught mid-laugh, her curls bouncing wildly as she leaned over, her dimple deepening with every giggle. Paige could still hear the sound of it, bright and free, almost as if Azzi were right there in the room with her.

The second photo wasn’t much better. Her and Azzi at the diner for her 15th birthday, Azzi’s arm slung around hers like it belonged there. Paige could almost feel the ghost of Azzi’s touch, the warmth of her hand on her arm, the way Azzi’s voice would soften when she scolded her for cussing too much.

She flipped the page closed before she started crying again. It didn’t help.

Her fingers brush over the closed scrapbook, tracing its edges. She knows it’s pathetic to feel this way, to let herself get so tangled up in someone who probably doesn’t even think about her anymore. It’s dumb, she knows that. But it doesn’t change the way her heart clenches at the thought of Azzi laughing somewhere else, with someone else, as if Paige never mattered.

Because the truth is, she’s never felt this way about anyone before. Not like this. Not about their friendship, or whatever it used to be. Friendship doesn’t even seem like the right word anymore. It feels too small, too simple for something that made her feel whole in a way nothing else ever has.

Will you miss me, Azzi? Paige swallows hard, her jaw tightening as tears blur her vision again. Will you miss what we had? Because I do. I miss you so much it hurts. It fucking hurts.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes closing as the words spilled from her heart. God I think I’d miss you even if we never met.

Paige dragged a hand over her face, trying to will the tears back, but they came anyway, hot and relentless. She clutched the scrapbook tighter to her chest. I miss you. Every day. Every second of every day. I miss you so much it’s pathetic.

She let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob halfway through. “It’s so dumb,” she muttered, shaking her head. But no matter how many times she said it, it didn’t make it any less true. It’s the realest thing she’s ever felt.

Because no one had ever made her feel like Azzi did. Not before, not since. She wasn’t sure anyone ever would.

She wipes at her face, but the tears won’t stop. Because no matter how much she misses Azzi, Paige knows it’s her fault she’s gone. She clings to the scrapbook, the pictures inside the only pieces of Azzi she has left. And as much as it hurts, she knows she deserves this. Every ache, every tear, every lonely second.

Because she let her go. And that’s something she can never take back.

——-

Azzi sat quietly in the backseat, her hands clammy as she rubbed them over her shorts, trying to calm the nerves that had been with her all morning. Her brothers had hyped her up about making the team, calling her the coach’s “princess,” but it didn’t help. She was still terrified. What if she didn’t make it? What if she wasn’t good enough?

She whispered to Stewie, who was in her lap, his small body a source of comfort. “What if I don’t make the team, huh? I know it’s stupid, but it keeps running through my mind… what if I mess up?”

Her mom glanced back at her from the front seat, a soft smile on her face. “You’ll do fine, Azzi. You always do.”

But Azzi couldn’t shake the unease, the thoughts spinning in her head as the car pulled into the gym parking lot. Her stomach twisted into knots, and her heart raced in anticipation. They arrived early, her mom wanting to meet the coaches first, so Azzi was the first one there.

She stepped out of the car, still trying to calm her breathing. As her mom led her inside, Azzi forced herself to smile and greet the coaches, though her mind was a hundred miles away. She excused herself once the introductions were made, eager to find the locker room and settle in before tryouts started.

The gym was empty when she walked in, the silence amplifying her every step. She meandered down the hall, her fingers grazing the walls as she took in the pictures of past players, their smiles frozen in time. She felt her nerves rise again, the pressure of what was to come weighing on her.

But as she rounded a corner, her body collided with something—or rather, someone.

“Sorry!” Azzi blurted, quickly stepping back. But when she looked up, her breath caught. There, standing in front of her, was Paige. She froze, heart pounding in her chest. Her mind screamed for her to move, to say something, anything, but her body just wouldn’t cooperate.

Paige stood there too, her mouth slightly open in disbelief, her eyes wide. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, almost as if the world had shifted, Paige finally spoke her name.

“Azzi?” she whispered.

Azzi’s stomach churned, but she couldn’t stop staring at her. How? How could she be here? How had she found her, of all places? This wasn’t supposed to happen, not here, not now. Not ever.

But Paige was looking at her like she hadn’t missed a beat, like the time apart hadn’t meant anything. Azzi could see the recognition in her eyes, the same as she felt in her chest.

It was instant. Her face was older now, sharper, but it was still her. Those blue eyes. The way she stood. Even the slight tilt of her head when she was unsure of herself. Azzi hadn’t expected it to hit her this hard.

A year ago, she swore she’d move on. Swore that she’d forget what Paige meant to her. But now, standing here, all she felt was the sharp twist of memory and the burn of anger.

How could she not recognize her? Paige had been the first person to make her feel seen, to make her feel like she mattered. But she had also been the first person to hurt her more than anyone else had. Azzi couldn’t forget that. Not the way she laughed with her, not the way she’d come after her with apologies she could never quite believe.

Azzi had convinced herself she was past it. Past Paige. But now, here she was, staring at her as if nothing had changed. It was too much, too fast. Does she really think I’ve forgotten?

Paige stepped forward, her movements tentative, unsure. Azzi almost wanted to take a step back, to run, but she couldn’t move. She stood there, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing in on her.

“Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice almost hesitant.

Azzi blinked, her heart racing. She forced herself to act like she didn’t know her, even though everything inside her screamed that she did. “Sorry,” Azzi said, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “Do I know you?”

——-

rosie’s note: well..yeah!

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @imaginespazzi @pazzilover101 @makethemhoesmad @pboogerswbb @kmoneymartini @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme @ashortyluvsports

[alwek]

Every job I get, I tell them immediately, "I am disabled. The occomodation I need is the ability to sit when I need for a few minutes." And every time they tell me,"That's good to know! We'll let you sit! As long as you can still get all your work done, it's perfectly fine :)" and then nobody tells me I'm doing bad. Frequently, I get told I should be doing less, in fact. But then every time, within a month or two, I get fired for "taking too many breaks" and "not being productive enough" because I need to sit down every hour or so so that I don't collapse on the floor.

I've been told I should go live in a home if I can't work. But I can work, I literally take care of an entire household on my own. And I can do that because when I'm allowed to sit between tasks, the pain doesn't build nearly as quick. I am a perfectly capabale worker, and every coworker I've ever had has told me I'm the best to work with. But because I need to sit down too much, bosses see me as "lazy and unreliable" even though I was promised the ability to sit when I was first hired.

I don't always need to walk with my cane. In fact, most days I don't need it at all. I only need it really when I'm walking long distances in a day, but employers never want me to have it on the floor. Fuck, I got explicitly told by one job that "I shouldn't be working if I need to use a cane" while they already had a wheelchair bound employee and another with a fake leg. But I guess the 20 year old with the cane is too much for them to handle.

"If I need walking assistance, I shouldn't be working here" okay then WHY do you have several other workers that can't walk on their own working there for longer hours than me and they're allowed to use their aids? The old man with the fake leg can use his crutch. The lady with the fake hip can take a seat whenever she needs. You hired a guy who can't even walk for fucks sake but I can't use my cane on the job? Me with my cane is too much? So the old people and the visibly disabled guy are allowed to have their accommodations, but because I look like I should be fit, it's a "bad look" or some stupid shit, as if young people can't be cripple.

I was literally the second person hired there who walked with a cane, but I'M the one who gets fired. Yeah, okay, fuck you too then.

Anyway, this post struck a nerve on me. I fucking hate employers

Disabled people get criticized and called lazy for being unemployed but nobody wants to discuss how employers won’t hire us because we’re considered a “liability”. Many companies also refuse to accommodate individuals with disabilities. Let’s not talk about how the government takes away our lifesaving healthcare benefits if we make more than $2000 a month and this the reason why most disabled people live in poverty!!!

[morose-melodies]

your knight | princess reader x yandere! capitano

summary: your new knight, capitano, is everything you hate and yet he won't leave you alone T_T

content warning: none

"I'd suggest you not walk barefoot around the garden, princess."

you paused mid-step to look back at your knight. how did he manage to find you so soon? "i won't be out for long. you don't need to watch me every second..."

you sent him to the marketplace to buy you a treat and not only was he already back, but he also managed to find you...

"but, that is my sole duty, princess, to ensure your safety."

your shoulders slumped and you looked defeated. you hated your knight more than anything else. "leave me be. I'll be back inside soon."

"i cannot allow that, princess. I would never forgive myself if you were to fall into harm's way."

"well then, stay as far away from me as possible."

it was so smothering! having a knight follow you around at every given moment... your old knight didn't do this, no, he gave you space and let you be when you asked.

why did your father ever fire him...?

he was one of the better knights.

"I will try my best to please you, princess."

you tried your very best to ignore his presence as you roamed the garden, taking flowers for yourself but now that you knew he was watching you, it ruined everything!

you sighed, turning to face your knight, a scowl on your face. he did not falter, he started (or you assumed he was) back at you, "I can't even enjoy a walk in the garden without you bothering me!"

he had been standing silently in the corner of the garden this entire time. capitano sighed, "i believe it would be best we go inside now, it is getting dark and you're getting irritable, princess."

"I'm getting irritable because of you!" stomping your foot down, you tossed your flowers to the ground and rushed off, past your knight, "i can't stand you."

your knight sighed. stepping forward, he picked up your discarded flowers.

you ran off to your chambers - you knew weren't allowed to lock your door but oh you wanted to!

you would do anything to get rid of your knight.

so, as you settled down for bed, you conspired against your knight.

when you awoke that morning, sitting up in your bed, you were pleased to see that capitano was not standing in the corner of your room watching you, not as he usually did.

good. maybe he was learning.

you didn't notice it before but on your vanity was a vase, filled with the flowers you remember tossing to the ground in your anger the day before.

"ugh," you flopped back down onto your bed, grieving the day to come.

[artyandink]

libidinal

If Dean could curse every witch on this planet for dosing you and him with an aphrodisiac after ganking them, he would. His entire body was on fire— burning, and his mind was embarrassingly stuck on you. You, your thighs, lips, your ass. It all rattled about in his head like a broken record, and he craved you, craved the relief like crazy.

He knew that you were feeling the same things he was right now, the ache, burn, relentless want that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Ugh, you needed him. Like you’d die if you didn’t have him. Dean felt the same damn way — trust him — like one touch and he’d break the damn best friend code of conduct.

You’d think both of you would have more control of yourselves, considering how you were both hunters who’d faced stuff like vampires and shit. "This is gettin’ on my nerves, sweetheart," he scoffed, eyes fluttering up and down you. You were too hot for this world— and that wasn’t just the pollen talking, but his drugged up mind couldn’t stop.

"Fuck this." he slowly took off his sweat-soaked shirt, looking for signs that you’d jump him. Dean rubbed the sweat off his chest, having no damn right to look that jacked and edible right now, ugh. He can't take all of this crap, including being quarantined in this damn motel room by Sam. It’s for a reason, though.

He groaned, aching, desperate, gesturing for you to keep away so he could resist this damned pollen’s effects. "Oh, m’ gonna kill Sammy if he doesn’t find a cure for this stat." Dean covered his ears, yeah, no. He acted as if covering his ears and blocking out all noise would stop the ache for you, well, it sure didn’t.

Pacing back and forth, he took one look at you— nope, look away, you looked too hot, nope. "Yeah, I’ll kill him." He winced when he got a very R-rated image in his head— he was desperate for you, you, for some relief, mainly sex.

He felt like every second without his hands on your ass was torture— he hoped he wouldn’t go to hell.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You breathed, sarcastic, giving him a look with raised eyebrows. “Just — you know — feeling like my body’s burning alive, I’m sweatin’, my brain hurts.” Your eyes were hungrily searching his bare chest, biting your lip— no, stop, even if you felt on fire and were sweating buckets.

“You’re clearly not,” he retorted. He would’ve found it funny that you were checking him out, but the need was so overwhelming, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from throwing you onto the nearest surface.

“So… no need to be sarcastic. M’ just trying to control myself.” He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and keeping the distance between you. “Can’t say the same for you though, sweetheart, ‘cause I can see ya gawkin’.”

“Yeah, just quit it, you look like a five star buffet. A girl can’t help herself when she’s drugged up on an aphrodisiac.” You groaned, dabbing your sweaty-ass neck with a towel, not able to help the way your eyes hungrily drank in his chest. “I’m makin’ do with the view I’ve got while my pussy’s yellin’ at me right now.”

“Christ, darlin’.” He muttered. He felt all fuzzy inside when you said that, he hated how hungry the damn pollen made him for you, for your body. Dean’s eyes darkened, taking in the way you kept looking at him, how you were yearning for him like he was with you. His fingers gripped on the chair he was sitting on, and he leaned forward— he needed to stay on the damn chair.

“And what kinda things is it tellin’ you, hm?” He asked, voice lowering, growling almost. His cock was telling him to go over there, moan in your ear as he thrusted into you, that’s what— but he had to deny himself of such luxurious pleasures. How great.

“To throw away all sense of modern feminism and let you fuck me hard on the floor.” You breathed, moaning softly at getting the words out. “Or letting you bend me over the table. Eat me out on the bed, take me from behind on said bed.” Another desperate moan.

Shit.

Dean almost groaned out loud, damn you. You were going to be the death of him. He was so damn hard right now, and he gripped even tighter on the chair, he would break it if he wasn’t careful.

“Sweet girl, I know you’re not talkin' about feminism when you got your hungry eyes all over me right damn now.” He bit out, clenching his jaw. Dean couldn’t help the fantasies that were running through his mind, especially when you let those moans out.

“I know.” You murmured, nodding, levelling the playing field and taking your shirt off too, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. Shit. Your skin that glistened with sweat, glowing more in the shitty motel light, tits now on display for his hungry-ass eyes. Your head tipped back, eyebrows pinched together tight, lips parted ever so slightly. Shit.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, eyes drinking in that perfect body of yours like a man who hadn’t had a drop of water in years. He’d seen you in a bikini before and almost lost it, but this view, this view was a sight for sore eyes. One that he was now staring at shamelessly.

His mouth hung agape as his eyes traveled from your chest to your face, he was desperate — all for you. “What’re you gettin’ at?” He asked, voice low and ragged.

“That I’m hot too. A woman can exist with her shirt off.” You scoffed, thighs rubbing together for any friction. C’mon, fuck, you got nothing— guess Dean’s cock was the answer, but not fucking your friend was the first cardinal rule of maintaining a best-friendship. “Oh, I’m gonna kill those witches even if they’re in the afterlife. I—” You let out a small whimper of frustration, the ache building. “God damn.”

“Damn right you’re hot, sweetheart.” he muttered, eyes locked to your thighs, practically drooling— maybe he wasn’t talking about the heat both of you were burning under. Dean’s tongue darted out and wet his dry lips, watching you as you rubbed your thighs against one another for friction. Damn it, it should be him being that friction, if that even made sense— he didn’t know, his brain was sludge. “I know, baby girl, m’ feelin’ what you are, I get it.”

He wanted to reach out and touch you so bad, but he had to get a grip. Sam could come back with a cure— maybe. Could he wait that long? Probably not.

You, however, simply did not have the patience nor the fucks to deal with Sam and his annoying lateness— you needed your best friend, he needed you, you had two holes he could put his dick into — you weren’t doing ass stuff on the first fuck — so it’s a win-win. “Dean, fuck this cure.” You whined, breath hitching as you yanked your sweats down, panties going with, pussy leaking and aching and so very empty. “Can’t wait, I can’t— c’mere. Fuck me, c’mere.”

Ok— yeah— yes, ma’am.

The sight had his eyes getting dark, nearly feral as he quickly stood up from his chair. The chair fell backwards and made a loud thud against the floor, but he couldn’t care less— not when you looked so damn delectable on the bed in front of him. Dean took quick steps towards you, practically ripping off the rest of his shirt.

He kneeled on the bed in front of you, practically pinning you to the bed. He couldn’t help himself. “M’ here, I’m here. Tell me what you want.” He huffed out, hips already bucking against the bed, moaning at the friction as he kissed over your bare tits and up your neck, licking up your neck, sweat on his tongue— yes, it’s disgusting, but he’d ponder on that in retrospect, right now he felt like an animal.

You guided his hand between your legs then kissed him, hotly, hungry, your lips devouring his, hand on the back of his head keeping him there. It was like a dam had broken, your breath harsh and heavy against his lips.

He grunted into the kiss, eyes slipping shut against the onslaught of your lips against his. His hand easily found its way down to you, the second you pushed him where you wanted him. God, his hand ached to be between your thighs.

“M’ here,” he breathed in between hot kisses. “M’ here, sweetheart, I gotcha.” The words were muffled, breathless, as he pushed your thighs apart, finding your wetness, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head. God, he was starved for you, as you were for him, it felt frantic, hazy, like relief that he was finally touching your skin that would go away instantly, as it wasn’t enough. Your scent had his eyes actually rolling back for a second, a pant and a whine leaving his mouth in quick succession as his free hand pushed sweaty hair out of your face, his own spiky from your hand running through it.

He ground his cock against the bed, feeling himself leaking — as were you — and these touches alone honestly had him feeling like he could embarrass himself right here, and come in his pants like a teenager before even getting the chance to fuck you properly.

You nodded against his lips, practically gone and inattentive to anything but him, leaning more of your body weight back against the headboard and pulling — yanking — him with you, panting, desperate. “Need you, baby, please.”

Oh, he needed you too, baby girl.

“Need you too, gorgeous.” he panted, letting you push him around between your legs and wiping sweat off his forehead briefly, wiping that hand on the sheets— shit, that left a pretty dark mark. He bit down on your bottom lip, groaning into the kiss. God, you looked so pretty, so needy and desperate, and you were all for him. He needed to mark you in some way, make you his in every possible way. He needed to.

“You need me inside this pretty pussy, baby?” He asked, his hand already gliding over your slickness, his eyes locked on yours. His fingers pushed inside you, a moan leaving both your mouths as he felt the lack of resistance on your cunt’s part, and how it sucked his fingers in — fuck, you were tight — and he worked your bra off so he could suck and flick his tongue against your nipples one at a time, moaning against the softness of your tits— mmh, that felt so good.

You nodded frantically, cause fuck yeah, moaning, lips still pressed to his as the pressure had you whimpering in relief. “Yes— yes, baby, d-don’t you stop, ok? God, feels so good.”

“I won’t, wasn’t plannin’ on it, baby doll.” he grumbled against your lips. He didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon, not when you felt this good around his fingers, when you sounded so damn pretty.

“Christ, I need you.” His words were nearly a whisper as he pushed down his jeans and boxers. He was so hard, so desperate for you, that he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You ready, baby?” Well, he certainly was, let’s put it that way. He’d been grinding on the bed the whole time he was on top of you.

“So ready.” You nodded, kissing him desperately, hotly again, panting, whimpering, the works. God, you felt like you were on fire, like it wouldn’t stop until you had him— it felt almost primal. Why wouldn’t you be ready, though? You weren’t a woman if you didn’t get soaked for Dean Winchester.

“M’ gonna take care of you, baby girl, I will.” He muttered against your lips, taking deep breaths. The words came out in a near growl and a grunt, he was hungry for you, starved, so he’d let you kiss him breathless, and he’d kiss you back just as fiercely as you.

He needed to give you the relief you needed, the pleasure, the release. He still rubbed at your pussy, all while he continued kissing you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

You moaned against his lips, nails raking down his back, leg hooking over his hip— fuck the cure, fuck Sammy (though the poor guy deserves more credit), you just needed this right now, you felt like you could explode. Spontaneously combust. Lit match to gasoline. “God, don’t wait.”

“I won’t wait. Not anymore.” He grunted as he felt your nails dig into his skin, and your legs wrapped around him. He was so desperate to be inside you, and the sight of you just beneath him, the sounds coming out of your mouth, they just made him throb.

“I got you, I’m gonna take care of you baby doll, m’ gonna take care of you real good.” He panted against your neck, biting down on the skin as he slid into you, his mouth dropping open at the pure relief.

Your head fell back, a long, drawn moan leaving your mouth— you swore it felt like a cooling balm had been slapped on your bodies, or ice cold water. It just felt like a splash of pure relief, and you couldn’t stop chasing it, it felt like euphoria. “Shitfuck.”

“Oh, god,” he groaned, groaned, eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t felt relief like this in so long, and your moans were like a damn symphony to his ears. He nearly felt like he was in heaven, that you were an angel.

“You’re so perfect — perfect.” He panted against your skin, placing kisses against your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder, as he found a pace. “Feels so good, darlin’, good girl.” It took all the effort in the world for him to not just lose himself and start pounding into you, just to say.

Good girl? You could’ve come right there. Squirted, even.

But no. Your leg hitched higher on his hip, clutching at his shoulder and at the headboard, your forehead pinched, eyes closed as you just felt it, couldn’t stop feeling, desperately letting shameless moans slip past your lips— as if you could control those.

“Yeah, that’s it — give it to me, baby.” he panted, his eyes taking in the sight of you, how you were falling apart. “Take it, take it all, just let me do all the work, yeah, good girl.” One of his hands trailed down your body, to the back of your thigh, holding it up, using it as leverage to push into you.

He wouldn’t last long, he couldn’t. Not with the sounds coming out of your mouth, the way you looked. “You’re so damn pretty when you give it up, baby.”

“Dean,” You couldn’t help but moan, over and over, paired with the occasional shameless “yes”, eventually bringing him in for a hungry, sloppy kiss, feeling the pendant on his necklace cool against your skin.

“Ah—” he groaned against your lips, his kisses almost violent, more teeth than tongue than anything else. God, his name on your pretty lips was sinful, but he wanted to hear it again and again.

His hands continued to touch you everywhere they could, not missing a curve or angle, and just taking in the pure ecstasy of it all. “You look so perfect like this — all for me.” he panted against you, the coolness of the amulet was almost refreshing against his over-heated skin, he’ll had to admit, and seeing it between your tits? God, another bonus.

Ooh, an idea. You used your leg hooked around his waist, plus some hunter training, rolling you both over, immediately gripping the shitty-ass fabric and plush of the pillow so you could begin to move up and down, hitting that angle without missing a beat. “Sh—Shit.”

Oh, oh wow, he had to take a few deep breaths. He didn’t expect you to suddenly roll the two of you over but he certainly wasn’t complaining. You looked so damn perfect on top of him, like a goddamn dream. He gripped onto your hips, helping you move, a moan leaving his lips as you kept up the pace.

“That’s it baby doll, good girl—“ he couldn’t help but babble. “Can’t keep my hands off you.” He panted, staring up at you. “Doing all the work, look at you— I ain’t gonna last, sweetheart, please tell me you’re almost there.”

“M’ almost there.” The sentence came out as a moan, seeing him in his glory, amulet on his chest, all ridges of muscle and soft skin, your other hand gripping the headboard as you moved, assisted by his hands on your hips, calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin. “P—Please, baby, a—almost there, so, so close—”

“Just— just come with me, please— please—” He panted, his hands gripping your hips so tight, he knew that he’d leave marks, but he’d deal with it later. Right at that moment, he was just lost in the feeling.

“Come on, give it to me, baby, I wanna see it, wanna feel it.” He was desperate, but a gentleman, he wanted you to reach it first. You were absolutely too gorgeous for words, and he was nearly going feral— his mouth went dry. “Good girl, good girl, good girl, c’mon — oh, c’mon—”

The coil in your stomach snapped as you came, pure, unbridled euphoria and uninhibited ecstasy, your eyes rolling back, hips stuttering and pressing into his hands as your thighs shook, but you kept on to get him there. “O-Oh, baby, c-c’mon, Dean, please— please—”

Sweet mother of god.

Your voice, your movements, your face, it all just pushed him over that final edge, and a loud moan tore out of his throat as he rode it out. “God, baby doll, god—” was all he could manage.

He didn’t even realise his eyes fluttered shut. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling, the amulet resting gently between his pectorals. “Oh god, baby girl, c’mere— come here.” He muttered, hands gripping your hips, pulling you down. He just wanted to feel you against him— wait, what? The burn wasn’t going, it just wasn’t.

“Dean.” You whined, letting out a frustrated moan. “S’wasn’t enough, I can still feel it. Still feel it, baby.” You panted, keeping yourself up. Well, of course this thing wasn’t a one-and-done. You already broke all the cardinal rules of friendship without compunction, but now you had to do it again? Wow. Great going.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He breathed, eyes opening, and looking up at you, the corners of his lips slightly turned up. He could feel it too, it was like something was missing, and he didn’t know what it was.

He pulled you down, and held you against his chest as he caught his breath. One of his hands moved to the side of your face, and he gently guided you into a soft kiss, the other hand moving down and squeezing your ass. “God, I need you so goddamn much.”

“Mhmm. Need you too.” You whined, your kisses becoming more insistent, needier— ok, don’t blame you, it seems to affect women more. “Can you— need you t’ take over, Dean.”

A small smirk appeared on his lips as you began to become more needy. “Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart.” He growled against your lips. He pushed you off of him, and rolled the two of you over, so you were now beneath him again, and his body was above yours.

“You want me to take over, huh?” He questioned, his lips moving to your neck, leaving nips and open-mouthed kisses over the skin. “You want me to take care of you?” His hips started snapping against you, a groan leaving his lips, cause oh, Jesus.

Woah, ok, you could get used to this. Especially with how you moaned, nodding desperately, leaving red marks on his shoulders and arms, his amulet touching the valley of your now bouncing tits with every thrust again, head tipping back as his cock brushed your cervix, hearing his grunts and pants in your ear mixed with your moans.

He couldn’t help the smirk that stayed on his lips as you clawed at his skin. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You like it when I take care of you?” He questioned, his mouth against your neck, his hips snapping against you, desperate to hear the pretty sounds leaving your lips.

“Tell me how much you like it, baby girl, go on.” His words were punctuated by a sharp bite to your shoulder, the other hand gripping your hip.

“Love it, Dean, fuck.” You gasped, your eyes rolling back, the knot in your stomach coming faster this time, scratching at his hips, the hot-ass dip in his back— anything you could reach, really, you weren’t picky.

“That’s it baby girl, there you go—“ he panted, his hips thrusting against yours, just pushing you closer and closer, his mouth against your skin still, leaving open-mouthed kisses and harsh bites.

The sounds you were making were just pushing him closer and closer, he was just desperate for you, and he couldn’t control the words that blurted out of his mouth. “God, you look so damn perfect baby, so damn pretty, so much better than I ever dreamed—“ Sure, he just revealed that he’d thought about this, but he still put your legs over his shoulders, leaning forward, splitting you in half and thrusting into you.

The new angle made your mouth fall open in a perfect ‘o’, and the feeling just overwhelmed your brain, made your body go positively wild, and you could swear some drool dribbled from the corner of your mouth. “D-Dean—”

Christ, he’s never seen anything so pretty.

He groaned as he took in the sight of you, your legs over his shoulders. “You like that, huh? You like it when I—“ his words were cut off with a strangled moan, you were just so perfect, he was never going to be able to get enough.

He managed to make a few more noises, some of them resembling your name, before he just dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “Baby— baby, need to come again in you, can I?“

You made a noise that sounded like a moaned yes, and you’d never known that being split in half by a guy would ever feel this good, your hands braced on the underside of your thighs. Well, that was a confirmation.

He groaned as he felt you nod against his shoulder, words being lost on him after that. That was a yes, a good, proper yes. He didn’t even know what he was saying, all that he knew was that he needed to give you it. So he just gave it to you hard, and fast, not letting up an inch. “Good girl, good girl, you’re doing so good, taking it so well, baby doll—” all the while, he panted against your skin.

He groaned against your skin, his mouth pressed to your shoulder. Hearing that, feeling you around him, he was done for, he was gone— “Yeah, baby, oh, you’re so good, so good, feels so damn good, I’m coming baby, I’m gonna—“

He let out a strangled moan, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rode it out, burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting, grunting, smoothing your hair back as he spilled into you with a low moan.

You stroked his hair, helping him come down from it, feeling tired out— I mean, at least the pollen’s fucked out, right? Just… you hated witches now. You get Dean’s point— you didn’t before, but now you do.

He let out a weary groan, breathing still laboured and his skin was still flushed. When he came to and registered that you were stroking his hair, he let his head fall onto your chest, his head against your tits. Mm, like a pillow, feels s’nice.

“God, that was intense.” He whispered against your skin. “You okay, sweetheart?” He was spent, absolutely boneless and limp, and just content to lay there and bask in the aftermath of what you’d just done.

“Better than before.” You breathed, nodding, rubbing your cheek. “S’ not as sore as I thought it’d be, if I’m bein’ honest. But now I get why you hate witches.”

He let out a chuckle, which just sounds more like a quiet scoff, and he lifted his head up to look at you, a slight smirk on his lips. “Oh yeah? You get it now, huh?” His head returned to its original position after a few moments, and he nuzzled against you, an arm wrapping around your waist. “Not sore, huh? I didn’t go too hard on ya, did I?”

“No, but, uh…” You grinned cheekily. “Being carried to the bath would be much appreciated.” Oh, the little shit.

Of course.

He lifted his head to look at you, an entertained and amused look on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna be real cute, aren’t you?” He questioned, and then in a quick movement, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you against his chest.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

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special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

[flwrkid14]

Tim and Jason: Caught Between Healing and Fear

note: completely inspired by this amazing post! tysm to @timdrakewhump for letting me use it as inspo!! <33

Tim doesn’t flinch around Jason. Not exactly. It’s more of a stiffening, a tightening of his shoulders, a flicker in his eyes that he knows Jason catches. He hates it. Everyone else has moved on. Dick forgave. Bruce rebuilt. Even Damian, with all his sharp edges, has softened into something survivable. But Tim? He still expects a hit that doesn’t come, still hears the echo of fists in the dark.

And that? That’s on him, right? It has to be. Because if everyone else can move on, why can’t he?

They don’t talk about it. Not directly. The bats have always been good at side-stepping, at smoothing over the cracks with enough shared history to pretend the damage never happened. They act like everything’s fixed, like Jason is something fragile they have to keep close, hold together. They ignore the way Tim’s shoulders tense when Jason’s voice gets too loud, the way his hands shake when shadows fall just right. They brush off his excuses to leave the room or, worse, look at him like he’s the problem.

“Jason’s trying, Tim.” “He’s better now.” “Don’t hold onto the past.”

But Tim isn’t holding on. He’s bracing.

Every patrol with Jason is a test. Every sparring match, a gamble. Jason keeps it light—punches pulled, jabs softened with crooked smiles—but Tim knows what Jason’s hands are capable of. He remembers the brutality, the raw fury that doesn’t vanish just because it’s been filed down to something more manageable. He knows Jason’s trying. He knows Jason’s better. But there’s a thin line between better and safe, and Tim’s still learning how to balance on it.

When Jason starts spending more time at the manor, no one questions it. They welcome him with open arms, eager to fill the empty spaces his absence left. He’s part of the family, they say. He needs support, they insist. So Jason sits at the dinner table, helps out on patrol, lounges on the couch like he’s always belonged there. And Tim... Tim watches from the corner of the room, a shadow on the periphery, pretending he doesn’t notice the way everyone else orbits around Jason like he’s the sun.

They send Tim on solo missions now—so Jason can have space. They say it like it’s a good thing, like they’re doing Tim a favor. More responsibility, more autonomy. He should be grateful. And he is. Or he would be, if it didn’t feel like being exiled. The irony isn’t lost on him. They don’t want Jason to be alone, so Tim has to be.

The apartment is quieter than the manor, the kind of quiet that presses in too close. No hum of the Cave, no distant footsteps of someone always nearby. It’s fine. He’s used to it. He tells himself that every night, like a mantra. He likes the solitude. It’s familiar, comforting in a way that makes his chest ache. But sometimes, when the silence stretches too thin, he thinks about calling. Jason always picks up now. He’d probably offer to come over, bridge the gap that Tim never asked to be there.

But what would Tim say? Sorry I still see the blood on your knuckles? Sorry I can’t forget how it felt to be the replacement? Sorry you came back, and I thought it would fix things, but it didn’t?

He doesn’t call.

They’re terrified of losing Jason again. They hold him close, desperate, like he might slip through their fingers if they let go for even a second. Tim understands that. He really does. He remembers the hollow ache that filled the manor after Jason died, the way grief settled into the walls like a permanent stain. No one wants to go through that again. They’d do anything to keep Jason safe, to keep him here.

But no one asks what Tim gave up. What he’s still giving up.

Jason is here, but Tim feels like he’s the ghost.

Sometimes, when they’re all gathered together—Bruce at the head of the table, Dick and Steph cracking jokes, Duke helping himself to another slice of pie—Tim looks around and wonders if anyone would notice if he slipped away. Just stood up, walked out, and didn’t come back. Would they miss him? Or would they be too busy watching Jason, making sure he doesn’t disappear again?

He catches Jason watching him sometimes, eyes sharp and knowing. Jason’s not stupid. He sees the cracks. Tim wonders if he feels guilty, or if he’s just waiting for Tim to say something, to break the silence that’s grown too thick between them. But Tim won’t. He can’t. The words stick in his throat, heavy and bitter.

So he stays quiet. He goes on solo missions, patrols alone, comes back to an empty apartment that feels less like home every day. And he tells himself it’s enough.

Because it has to be.

[marril96]

Safe Haven

Chapter 2: Soft as a Smile

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it’s up to you to help her.

Previous chapter.

It was Agatha's voice that shook you from the fantasy of reconciliation to the strained but steadily improving reality where she was badly injured and taking care of her was more important than daydreaming about a change in your relationship.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

"Of course!"

As if on autopilot, you leapt to your feet. You hated that you had to let go of her hands. Hated that, once again, you were the one to sever contact, however temporary it was.

The three months you'd gone without touching her had felt like an eternity.

You never wanted to part from her again.

Agatha took the glass from you with both hands. It was only then that you noticed lines, an angry red, cutting deep across her wrists. Restraints, you assumed. She must have pushed and pulled until she'd managed to get them off.

Her hands trembled, and, instinctively, you reached to help her hold the glass up to her mouth. She threw you a brief glance, embarrassed, ashamed at needing help at such a basic task as drinking water.

"It's okay," you assured her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. It was the people who did it to her that should be ashamed, though you doubted their kind was familiar with the concept.

As Agatha finished, and you laid the glass on the table beside the supplies you'd gathered for her care, you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. A wordless repetition of your words. It was okay. You were here, and you loved her; temporary weakness didn't change that.

Even if it was permanent, it wouldn't change a thing.

Powerful or not, at full strength or injured, she was your girl. She would always be your girl.

Agatha's arms shot up, a gesture you'd come to know by heart. When she wanted affection, she took it. When you needed it, she gave it to you. No words necessary.

You allowed her to pull you to her and bury her face in your stomach. Instinct prompted you to reach for her, to hold on to her, most likely too tightly considering the condition she was in, but she didn't utter a word of complaint, so you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. To get lost in her, so fragile, so vulnerable, wrapped around you like a child in need of comfort.

You hoped you could provide it.

You hoped you would be good enough.

"I love you so much," you said, your heart brimming with it, ready to burst. "I know you don't trust me right now, and you have every right not to, but, please, trust that."

"Would I be here if I didn't trust you?" Agatha asked.

"I don't deserve it."

"Neither do I, yet here you are."

Quite a pair the two of you made. A match made in hell, some might say. As if that was a bad thing.

She knew this was the safest place for her. Not just because of the protection spell, but because you were here. She knew you wouldn't let anyone lay a hand on her. If hunters were to come knocking, you would kill them without a second thought.

For hunting her. For hurting her.

You'd killed for her before, and you would do it again in a heartbeat.

"You deserve the world," you said, and meant it; every syllable, every word. You kept on holding her, kept on pressing her to you as if to make sure that she was real. To make sure that this wasn't a dream, and you were going to wake up any moment now, cold and alone.

"I know," Agatha said with feigned arrogance, prompting you to chuckle. "Right back at you, honey."

The two of you stayed that way for a few moments, engulfed in each other, lost in the embrace you'd both been craving for all these months. Not having her with you was hell. The words you'd said to her last spinning around your head in an endless loop was an even worse one.

It was her who initiated the parting. "All right, honey, I'm digging the moment, but I need to breathe."

Though unwilling to do so, you instantly released her. "Did I hurt you?"

"Not any more than breathing does," she said in a jovial tone that you assumed she put on for your sake. "That's what happens when you get kicked in the ribs for hours. Jot it down for future reference."

Your teeth grit to the point of pain. Fists balled, nails digging into your skin.

They would die for that.

There would be blood.

"After I clean you up, I'll make you a potion." You sucked at potions, but she could guide you to doing it right.

"Don't bother. Whatever they shot me up with is blocking all magic inside me. It wouldn't do shit."

Fuck! "Then I'll be extra gentle."

"That's a first," she said with a naughty grin.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "I don't recall you complaining."

"Because I'm not."

"Then what are you doing?"

Being a little shit.

"Making small talk."

"Ah. Of course."

You missed this. The casual atmosphere, the playful banter, that pucker of her lips that you found to be the most adorable thing in the world.

It almost made you forget she had just escaped brutal torture.

One look at her face, however, was enough to remind you of the horrifying fact.

"I'll be careful, but if I hurt you, just say so and I'll stop," you said, plopping down onto a seat opposite Agatha on the couch and reaching for the rag you'd prepared.

She gave a small nod. Her eyes were on your hands, tracking your every movement. Trusting, but verifying.

Wetting the rag, you gently dabbed around her mouth. Blood slid off her skin with ease. If only it were that easy to remove the bruises. If only a piece of fabric soaked in warm water would take away her pain.

As soon as her face was clean, you moved to her wrists. She let out a hiss as the rag brushed against the thin cut, still open, still raw.

"Sorry," you said. "There's some dirt in there. I need to clean it out."

"It's fine," Agatha assured you.

She let you finish your work, first on her left wrist, and then her right one, gritting her teeth throughout. Pushing through the pain, through the clear discomfort.

"What did they want from you?" you asked in an attempt to distract her. Hunters usually killed witches on sight. As much as they hated your kind, they didn't keep you. Not even to torture you.

They had to have wanted something from her. Something she either couldn't or didn't want to give them.

"Information," Agatha said.

"About what?"

She instantly averted her eyes, focusing on you wrapping bandages around her wrists.

"We can talk when you're ready," you assured her, giving one of her hands a quick squeeze.

Whatever it was that they wanted to know, she clearly didn't feel like talking to you about it. Not yet, anyway.

The last thing you wanted to do was pressure her.

After what she'd been through, it was a wonder she allowed you to bring it up at all. Especially as the mere act of talking — of breathing, of living — brought her pain.

Agatha took in a big breath, face contorting with pain as she did so, then said, "They knew there were two of us."

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"They wanted me to tell them where my, quote, companion was."

Oh.

Oh.

Blood ran cold in your veins as the realization set in.

The hunters hadn't just wanted Agatha — they had wanted you, as well.

It was a well known fact that the two of you were a package deal. Where there was one, the other was nearby.

Why kill only one witch when they could kill two?

They must have heard rumors, or been filled in by the witch they'd had on payroll, about Agatha's traitorous tendencies. They must have thought she would give up your location; maybe not right away, but with the right incentive, under the right amount of pain, everyone was bound to crack. Especially the most infamous witch of all.

They didn't know Agatha at all.

She was many things, plenty of them bad, but when she loved someone, she was all in. She had a heart, a big one, and it loved as fiercely as everyone else's; even more so. She may not show it to the outside world, but it was there. You felt it in every pet name she uttered, in every touch of her hand. In every gesture, no matter how insignificant it appeared at first. Even during your worst arguments, that heart cherished you.

You'd never felt truly loved until you'd met her.

She'd made sure you would feel it every single day.

When she said she could go for two weeks instead of two days, she meant it. Because she had something — someone — to protect. She'd let them hit her, kick her, torture her; if she hadn't managed to escape, she would've still been there, silent as a mouse, gritting her teeth through each blow.

All so you wouldn't have to.

Agatha raised a finger in warning. "Before you go all, 'Oh, no'—" she put on a mock voice that was supposed to be a rendition of yours — and it was, an almost uncanny one, which you found mildly offensive, "—in that sad little voice of yours, remember that it was my decision not to tell them anything. And I would do it again if I had to."

In other words, don't feel bad about it. She'd chosen to protect you at the cost of her own wellbeing.

She'd put you first once, and she would do so again.

Your eyes burned with welling tears. "I was so awful to you."

Agatha shrugged. "Just because you said some… unsavory things doesn't mean I want you to die."

What you'd said was beyond unsavory. It was cruel. Borderline sadistic.

"You could've died," you pointed out.

"Honey, I was dead as soon as they captured me. Well, I should've been," she said nonchalantly, as if she were talking about the weather. "I didn't see the point of dragging you into it."

Yet you'd called her selfish. Had said she didn't care about you, that she'd loved power more than you. That you'd never felt loved by her.

God, you were a bitch.

Gently, you picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Is there anything I can do?"

"About those shitheads? You can watch me kill them when I get my power back." She smirked. "You love that."

There was something attractive about her draining witches dry. When she would kiss you after, she would be brimming with magic, new and electric. Ecstatic. It gave your heart the zoomies.

"I do," you confirmed, allowing your lips to curl into a smile, "but, I mean, to make things right between us."

Agatha sighed. She reached out, and you instinctively went to her, kneeling down by her seated form. As soon as her hands cupped your cheeks, your eyes fell closed. How you missed her touch, so tender, so sweet. So loving. Yet another proof of the lies your insults spewed.

Every time she touched you like this, she was telling you she loved you. Without a single word uttered, you knew she felt it, and she made sure you felt it just as intensely, just as fiercely.

How could you say she never loved you? How could you say you'd never felt it?

"You want us to be okay?" she asked.

You gave a nod, a tiny, timid one. "Yeah."

"Then we're okay."

You stared. "Just like that?" Surely, there had to be more to it. She couldn't just forgive you.

"Do you want me to be angry at you?" Agatha asked.

Yes, you did. You wanted her to be absolutely pissed. You wanted her to throw things, or blow something up, or scream at the top of her lungs like she usually did when she was mad.

You wanted her to do to you what you'd done to her.

"Agatha, I hurt you." A tear, two, three slid down your face, the memories of the things you'd said stabbing at you like knives. "Hurt me back."

"Why?" she demanded.

Because you'd hurt her first. "Because I deserve it."

"No, you don't." Her fingers rubbed your cheeks. Wiped your tears. "Someone else would, but not you. Never you."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you. Because I know you." Then, reluctantly, she added, "Because I hurt you first."

Right.

The reason the entire argument had erupted in the first place.

Agatha had forgotten your anniversary, having busied herself draining a — honestly, rather unimpressive — witch, while you'd waited for her at the restaurant she'd explicitly told you she would be at the day before.

You'd waited for her for over an hour like a fool. Had even started worrying that something had happened, that someone she'd slighted in the past (or the last twenty minutes; it didn't take her long to piss people off) had harmed her.

To add insult to injury, she had been the one to call you, asking where the hell you were, because she, having just absorbed some magic, was horny, and it frustrated her that you were nowhere to be found.

"I was looking forward to that dinner," you said, remembering how excited you were. How jovial. It was supposed to be one of the best nights of your lives.

It ended up being the worst.

"As was I," Agatha said. "I just thought it was supposed to take place the day after."

Right.

Forgetting things might as well be her middle name.

At least she managed to remember your birthday. She'd never failed to surprise you with a present she'd somehow know you wanted despite you not telling her a thing. She was perceptive like that.

"Of course you did," you snarked.

Agatha pouted in that way you found both adorable and sexy. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

Of course you would. "I expect something fancy."

"I wouldn't go for anything less. Who do you think I am?" she said, feigning offense.

You grinned. "It's a deal."

She blinked innocently. "So, you forgive me?"

How could you not forgive her when she looked at you like that?

How could you not forgive her when she looked like that?

Consciously or not, the injuries worked in her favor. She could punch you in the face, and you would probably find it hard to stay angry at her.

"I forgive you," you said.

There were few things in the world you could never forgive her for. Especially at this point in your relationship.

She smiled. "I really am sorry."

"I know you are."

It was a bitch move, yes, but it had only happened once. As much as it hurt, it wasn't like she had a habit of forgetting important dates.

Forgetting important things that didn't pertain to your relationship, yes. Names, dates, entire events. If she didn't find it personally significant, her brain erased it.

But something personal? Something in relation to you? Never. Those things stayed pinned at the top of her mental list.

You could forgive one blunder.

So long as she didn't make a habit of it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

[messenger-imp]

That's half the truth. Because people do join up on TFT and League after watching Arcane. There is a big influx of "What do I play, how do I best start out", etc. posts on the socials. The biggest issues though are: 1: Riot had the absolutely genius idea of making Arcane canon to the League-verse. "Why is that bad" you ask, canonity is good isn't it? In theory it sure is. But in practice it isn't because Riot games wants profits, while not committing. Look at Warwick. Warwick in League of Legends has been, since his release, a wonderful puppydog wolfman who rends the flesh of his enemies asunder with his wolfface. But now that Arcane is canon, shouldn't the much more human form we see in the game be the primarily playable creature and not this wonderful creature?

No, says riot and the old players. Because despite the canonity of Arcane, this is what you get. But perhaps Vanderwick isn't the marketing move. Perhaps he's more of a niche interest so lets look at the big sellers. Lets look at Jinx. Jinx is a cheap champion to buy early after the tutorials. A little Arcane fan goes in, expecting the somber yet somewhat crazy Jinx to be playable. Nope, instead they get a manic pixie dream girl who just wants to destroy with a distinctively different voice actor. But look there! There is an Arcane Jinx skin that puts her look more in line with her Arcane variation. But isn't that strange? Arcane is canon and yet I have to pay just to get the slight idea of the look my character had in the show? And what do you say? They are releasing a Jinx skin for 250$ dollars that you have to gacha for? That sure doesn't sound like it will keep new players. The same is obviously true for every other Arcane champion except for Ambessa and coming up the new Viktor remake...which in turn has gameplay-wise NOTHING to do with what Viktor does in the show except using his funny third arm to shoot laser beams while all his old skins lose details. The old community hates it and surely that won't keep Arcane watchers play him either. Then there is the extremely huge number 2: Lets say you managed to say "Oh yeah whatever I will just mute chat every game, I will ignore the toxicity." Good job thats half a step. The second half of the step is that there are 169 champions in LoL with distinct kits and roles and items they need to buy and battleplans they need to make. With a very barebones tutorial and extremely wishy washy roles this is obviously hard to start out. Adding up to this there are SO MANY experienced players making new accounts to get ready for Ranked matches that a new player has no chance of really learning any time soon after starting out. "Then I will just play with my friends who are playing, they can explain it to me." No they can't. Because playing with them will match you up with extremely high levled players that will also destroy you, a new player. New players can only lose when starting after arcane unless they do their homework. A lot of it and that's just not worth it. So if they just play for the fantasy of playing dolls with their favorite Arcane champions they have to pay unreasonable prices. Or if they are interested in the actual game they will get curbstomped. There is no player retention from Arcane because League of Legends is, naturally extremely hostile for anyone joining in.

And with Riot's changed it will remain so.

Posted this on BlueSky but…

The popularity of Arcane and K/DA has done nothing to increase the amount of League of Legends players.

Lots of y’all saying “GOOD” don’t understand that without new blood or new users things die and that means no more things like Arcane or K/DA if it’s not doing what was intended by bringing in new users.

Which means that if thing doesn’t do what it is intended to do, like bring in new players, it will end even if people like it better than the thing it’s advertising.

It’s worth noting there are a multitude of non-LoL games set in that world and intended for more single player/story based experiences that Riot has made.

And they’re fun too.

But all those fun and neat and good things that are being made will just be trimmed off at the tip because it’s not doing what was intended. Which means neeeeeever get attached to these projects.

[potchi-fics]

2:27 am (part four of attention)

i | ii | iii | iv

      sevika wakes up with a sore body. strangely, she notices that her body is patched up, wounds clean and all, hell, even littered with bandages and gauze. she checks the aged clock that is nailed on the wall: 2:27. her gaze falls to her window, seeing its still dark— its 2:27 in the morning. a groan of pain emits from her trying to sit up which she did, almost dying in the process. however, soft snores and breathing catch her attention.

its you. 

what are you still doing in here with her? you’re supposed to leave. but who is she kidding, you look soft like an angel–  your hands wrapped around a pillow on your chest, and your head laying on top of it. she doesnt know it but a small smile is on her rugged face: foolish woman. only does she stop staring at your figure when she sees a shiver from your figure to get you a blanket.

but her heavy footsteps cause you to wake up and groggily ask her.

“where you goin’?” your voice laced with sleepiness.

Sevika signals for you to take the couch, “to find a blanket.”

      you are about to protest except she shushes you with a look, successfully shutting you up. she disappears into another room as you quietly move to the couch. you lay down face-first, sleep taking over. 

“here,” the blanket gets thrown on your back, “use it.”

     you thought she was gonna stay but she heads for the door. pushing through your exhaustion, you lift your head up to ask her the same question.

“where you going, sevika?” you glance at the clock, “its 2:33 in the morning, come back here on the couch.”

      without looking back at you, she pulls out a cape.

she takes a few seconds, “job’s not finished.”

“atleast take a couple of more hours to rest,” you argue back.

      you stand up to block her way– determined to somehow find a way to stop her. you look up at her, she’s a massive woman and you hate that you like it. 

sevika frowns, “step aside, topsider.”

“im serious, youre hurt,” your voice holds concern, “and youre hurt bad.”

“and im serious, step aside.” 

      she takes a step forward but you dont budge. you only cross your arm before poking her side, the moment you see her wince, you raise your eyebrow. 

she swats your finger away, “dont touch me.”

      you poke her again, wanting to prove your point. you wont back down easily. she’s hurt and you will do everything in your power to stop her. unexpectedly, she roughly grabs your wrist and pushes you against the nearest wall– pinning you. 

“youre real stubborn,” sevika pushes her thick hips onto yours.

you discreetly swallow, “im just sayin’.”

“stay out of my way, topsider,” she leans down, close enough that you can see every minute detail on her face.

      you dare to get closer, one gust of wind and your lips will meet. she gazes at your lips for a split second, returning to your eyes immediately. your own admire her scars, how the blue blends well with her skin, how it sends fire to your abdomen– again.

yet one question lingers in your mind.

“why do you care?” she pulls away.

      she beats you to it. why do you care? you’ve only met her a couple of days ago. your mind racks up to try and formulate an answer but nothing comes.

sevika’s voice slices through the tense silence, “this means nothing.”

      the both of you withdraw from each other, chests heaving due to just what happened. a horndog is what you are, dont even deny it.

her footsteps get quieter as she exits the door– you look fixedly at the floor, your arms falling back to your side. reality sinks in: yeah, this means nothing. why do i care? the click of the door makes you grit your teeth; frustrated at not only sevika, but yourself as well because what are you doing? why do you care for a woman who youve only met days ago? 

this means nothing.

      you throw yourself into your work after that altercation. all you have done is work all day and all night, not bothering to take a break and it is evident on your face– tired eyes, not sleeping and eating properly, and exhausted. nonetheless, she’s still in your head. you cant seem to get her out of your mind. 

you lean back on your chair, “get out of my fucking head.”

“get who out of your head?” a british woman stands in the doorway of your workshop.

you perk up, “caitlyn, what are you doing here?”

“im here to ask you if youre gonna come to progress day.” caitlyn leans on the frame of your doorway. “also, ive heard you havent been eating well. or resting, in general.”

your chair creaks as you lean back, “ill think ‘bout it. and im fine, caitlyn.”

      she’s a friend of yours, she stops by your shop every once in a while to help her with the maintenance of her gun. although you consider her a friend, she doesnt know about your secret trips to the undercity nor your interaction with silco’s righthand woman, sevika. she raises her eyebrow but you dismiss it, working back on your project. 

“really, im okay, officer kiramman,” just in time, her mother calls out for her, “and your mothers calling you. say hi to her for me.”

“take care of yourself, will you,” caitlyn bids you goodbye.

      the grip on your small screwdriver loosens up and it drops on your table with a thud: get out of my head, sevika. 

she consumes all of your thoughts: her scent, her body, her nose, her. you think back to when she pressed herself against you, how solid and hard she was, how she was much bigger than you, how she could pin both of your hands using only one from her. god, it sends heat throughout your body, you cant help it. the things she’s doing to you even when she’s not around. one day, ill kill her myself– you bang your forehead on the table.

note: is it obvious that this is a slow burn

[usomads]

You're My Problem // Tama Tonga x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hiiii, so idk how I feel about this honestly but I wanted to get my first Tama story out (we’re starving out here lol) and here’s what I came up with. Lmk if you have any recs for him, and as always, happy reading!!!

Plot -> You and Tama can’t stand each other. Locked in a room with him by force, will the two of you make up or will the hate continue?

Pairings -> Tama Tonga x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Choking, Degradation, Oral Receiving (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Hair Pulling, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.4k

It was impossible to point to a specific incident that led to you and Tama despising each other so deeply, it seemed as if from the moment you met it was clear the two of you would never get along. You were assigned as a producer for the Bloodline storyline, which unfortunately meant that you were working closely with him every single week. None of the other members had a problem with you. In fact, they loved you, but Tama never shared that sentiment. So here you were in the Bloodline’s locker room trying to pitch the promo they’d be doing later in the night but, of course, Tama was being difficult as usual.

“You’re insufferable, you know that? I can’t even get this fuckin’ promo out without you bitching at me every five seconds. God, it’s like you do this shit on purpose-”

“Maybe you just don’t know how to do your fuckin’ job, you ever think of that, Y/N? Oh, I’m sorry, you’re never the problem, right? Shit goes sideways at least once a week but hey, it couldn’t possibly be Little Miss Perfect right?” 

“Oh, so now you think you can tell me how to do my own job? I don’t see the other three struggling with it, so that would just narrow it down to you, right? You wanna talk about me not doing my job right, look in the mirror assho-”

“Both of you, please, shut the fuck up already. It’s every week with this shit, I’m fuckin’ tired of it. Can you just get along, for once?” Sefa groaned, clearly annoyed with the two of you constantly arguing.

“Well if she weren’t such a stuck up bitch then ma-”

“The fuck did you just call me?!” You stood from your seat at Tama’s words, instantly being provoked but was stopped by Sefa stepping in front of you, preventing you from getting in Tama’s face.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, enough. Both of you need to calm the fuck down-”

“Fuck you mean, ‘calm down’? Did you not just hear what he said? Now get outta my way so I can-”

“No, none of that shit. We got more important business to tend to. Y/N, your promo idea is great, like always. And Tama,” he looked in the Tongan’s direction, “that was fuckin’ uncalled for. I don’t give a fuck how much you don’t like her, callin’ her a bitch is not cool, uce. But both of you,” he pointed between the two of you, “need to figure out whatever this issue is. I can’t have y’all bitchin’ at each other all the time, shit’s annoying as hell. So you know what, I’ve got an idea…” Sefa trailed off. “Me, Jacob, and Tonga are gonna go talk to creative about some shit real quick, and you two,” he and the other two walked towards the door, “are gonna talk this shit out. And I’m not lettin’ y’all outta here until ‘til you do.” You and Tama both tried to say something to stop them but went ignored as Jacob, Tonga, and Sefa went out the door and closed it behind them, locking it in the process. You let out a huff of annoyance, slouching in your seat.

��You realize this is your fault, right?” You spoke out loud, not looking at Tama. “If you weren’t such a fuckin’ dick then we wouldn’t be here right now. Once again, you gotta fuck something up...” 

Tama laughed obnoxiously, “My fault? Oh, don’t act all fuckin’ innocent here, Y/N. You know damn well you had just as much a part in this as I did. Don’t play all innocent now, Sefa ain’t here to defend you.”

You stood up abruptly, ignoring him as you walked to the door and tested the doorknob, finding it was indeed locked. “You’ve gotta be kidding… he fuckin’ locked us in here?!”

Tama stood up and walked over to the door, brushing by you to try the door himself. “There’s no way he did that shit, you’re just being fuckin’ dramatic,” he twisted the knob to also find it locked, you scoffing as he had to try it himself. You step to him, forcing him to look at you as you spoke.

“What the fuck is your issue, Tama? I don’t get it,” you asked, demanding an answer. “Like, what the fuck did I ever do to you? I tried being nice to you at first, I really did, but you’ve been such a fuckin’ prick ever since I met you that you’ve made that literally impossible.” Tama fumed as he pushed your back against the door, stepping dangerously close to you. Your mind felt dizzy as he stood over you, him peering down at you with his intense gaze. Your stomach had all of a sudden become a bundle of nerves as you watched his face, anxious of what he might say or do, but deep down there was a small part of you that enjoyed how intimidated you were by him. You hated how much you enjoyed this, trying desperately to put those thoughts to the side and forget about them completely, but he wouldn’t let you. His stare wouldn’t let you. The heat emanating from his body wouldn’t let you. And his next words certainly wouldn’t either.

“You wanna know what my problem is, Y/N? You. You’re my problem.”

“Well, no shit, I fuckin’ knew that dumba-” your words caught in your throat as he stepped impossibly closer and wrapped a hand around your neck, your bodies nearly touching. You gasped at the feeling and felt your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head, trying hard to maintain a level of self control under his touch.

“My problem is every time you talk back or insult me, I wanna shove my cock down your throat right then and there to shut you up.” He growled. “Been tryin’ so hard not to ruin you since the moment I met you, ‘s why I been actin’ like I can’t stand your ass. But the more bold you been gettin’ with me,” he leaned down to your ear, “the more I wanna fuck that attitude of yours right outta ya.” You bite your lip at his words, trying your best to suppress the moans that are daring to fall off your lips. Tama raises his head and meets your gaze once more, watching you try desperately to contain yourself underneath him. Your breath quickens as his eyes scan your features, looking for any sign of surrender to him. “Not so bold anymore, huh?” Your lip bite morphs into a smirk, finding your confidence at his teasing remark.

“You gonna sit here and continue to talk outta your ass, or you gonna man up and fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He chuckles lowly before smashing his lips to yours, the grip on your throat tightening and a moan swallowed by your lips coming from his mouth. You grab him by the shirt and pull him closer, craving his touch as your lips dance along his. He forces his tongue in your mouth, dominating it as his other hand grips your hip. Wetness begins to pool at your core, the overwhelming sexual desire between you two palpable as you both fight for dominance. The two of you switch positions; Tama’s back against the door as you separate. Your swollen lips paint a smirk as your hands travel to the hem of his shirt, tugging on the fabric and prompting him to remove it. The bulge in his pants is prominent, silently aching for you as your fingers dance along his waistline. Tama watches your actions- watches you toy with him.

“Y/N, if you don’t…”

“Don’t what? You were the one who called me a bitch earlier, might as well play the part…” you begin to back away from him but his hand grabs your wrist tightly and pulls you to him.

“I don’t think so,” his eyes darken as he speaks to you in a commanding tone. “Get on your knees.”

“Make me.”

Tama grabs your shoulders, shoving you down and undoing his pants to free himself. His cock hits his stomach as he pulls his boxers down, veins prominently detailing the thick shaft as precum leaks from the swollen tip. You look up at him through your lashes, Tama taking a mental picture of the sight of your doe eyes making eye contact with his. To him, the sight of you peering up at him with bruised lips, mere inches away from having your mouth on him was the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed. You give him a wink and wrap your hand around him, spitting on his dick and slowly stroking it. He groans when you touch him, weaving his fingers into your hair. Your tongue slowly trails from base to tip, tracing the outlines of his veins and giving kitten licks to the swollen head, making him shiver.

“Mmm, fuck Y/N, quit teasin’,” he moaned, gripping your hair harder. You didn’t listen, continuing your actions until he tugs your head back to look at him, a gasp slipping from your mouth and allowing him to slide his tip inside. “You wanna play, huh? Fine by me, baby, let’s play.” He pushes your head slowly down his length, forcing you to relax your jaw and throat to open yourself up to him. You feel his cock hit the back of your throat and gag, eliciting a groan from him as your throat tightens around him. “Mmm, you think you’re so big and bad, ain’t so big now with this dick down your throat, huh?” You moan around his cock, your eyes watering as he thrusts himself in your mouth. He fucks your throat violently, his hips bucking at an unrelenting pace as tears stream your face and you choke on him. He pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath but continues to stroke himself as he looks down at you. “Look at you, you’re a mess. Such a fuckin’ slut f’me, chokin’ on my cock.” You whine at his words, you had never been one for name calling but the way it glided off his tongue made you weak in the knees. “Oh, you like that, huh? C’mere, you wanna be my slut so bad imma fuck you like one.” He lifts you back to your feet, kneeling down and taking off your bottoms, leaving you in your panties. He moves them to the side, collecting your wetness with his fingers. “Damn, baby girl, I did all this? You’re a fuckin’ mess for me,” he smirked.

“Tama, I swear to God…”

“Nah, you wanted to play earlier, remember? Now it’s my turn.”

“Tama…”

“Whatchu want, hmm? Imma need a little more convincing than that, sweetheart.” You whined and laid your head against the door, eyes gluing shut as his fingers teased close to your aching core but would never quite touch it. 

“Please…” you mumbled softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What were you sayin’?” He smirked, loving how desperate you were for him.

“Fuck, Tama, please. Please, just fuckin’ touch me alre- oh fuckkk.” His tongue making contact with your dripping folds cut you short, your eyes rolling back as his tongue ravaged your pussy. He moaned as he lapped at you, the vibration sending chills throughout your body. He lifts his head and blows cool air on your clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud, making you cry out his name and tangle your hands in his hair. He continued to assault your pussy with his tongue, and it wasn’t long before your legs were shaking underneath him.

“S-shit, Tama I-” He stops his movements, slowly rising back to his feet and giving you a sinister look. 

“Oh, you thought I was gonna let you cum so easily?” He turns you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the door. “Nah, baby, you cum when I let you.” His tip pokes at your entrance before pushing its way in, the thickness of his cock filling you instantly. He places a hand on the side of your head, pushing it into the door as he pounds into you mercilessly. You moan his name loud, unable to control yourself as Tama fully dominates you.

“Fuckk, such a pretty lil’ slut f’me. Takin’ me so well.. you love this dick don’t you, baby girl? Tell Daddy how much you love his cock.” He continues to fuck you hard, your skin slapping echoing the room. “I- I, oh fuck, s-so good. I-”

“That’s it, mama, let the whole fuckin’ arena know who’s fuckin’ you this good.” He grabs your hair and pulls, arching your back and he slams his hips into you. You cry out his name, the new angle hitting your spot in all the right ways. You know you’re close- your pussy tightens around him and he groans. “Lost that attitude, didn’t you? All it took was to fill you full of good dick and you shut right up… fuck, baby, so fuckin’ tight f’me. Squeezing the fuck outta my dick. Keep that shit up and imma fill this pussy up.” 

“P-please..”

“Oh, you dirty fuckin’ slut, you want that, don’t you?” You whimper in response. “Imma give that shit to you baby, gotta cum for me first. C’mon, ma, nut all over this dick.” His hips drive into you deeper than before, daring you to come undone, and you do. You cum hard, your vision turning white and your limbs shaking violently as you release all over him. Your pussy tightens one last time and Tama curses your name, snapping his hips into you and releasing deep inside your pussy.  He stills inside you, allowing his cum to completely fill you as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. He plants kisses on the side of your neck, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. After a moment he pulls out of you, reaching down to your panties and moving them back in place, trapping his cum inside. You two rest for a moment, skin to skin as he holds you in his arms, the both of you stuck in a blissful trance until a loud knocking raps from the other side of the door. 

“Aye, y’all make up yet? Got a segment to get ready for, we’re coming in.” 

Shit.

[w1nter4ngel]

FOOTBALL IMAGINES WITH P LINKS ATTACHED!!

WARNINGS : smut! cheating! strong language!

🔞

18+ please!!! ( or preferably 16+ youngest! either way i’m not going to judge you 🤝🏼)

side note: this is also my first time writing on tumblr so i’m still very new 💀 please if you see any mistakes or any links that aren’t working let me know, if you have any advice for me aswell i’m all ears thanks 💕

DO NOT OPEN THESE IN PUBLIC!!

THIS IS STILL ONGOING

• requests are open!! please also request more people for this and also non smut/ non p link imagines •

Jude bellingham

imagine 1

link

You and jude are in bed cuddling with his head on you’re chest, you’re watching the film until jude slowly lifts his head looking up at you’re lips before softly kissing you and pulling away, “ what was that for ? “ you ask with a giggle before jude smirks pulling down you’re pyjamas bottoms, you gasp and moan as you’re legs are suddenly split apart with jude in between them licking and sucking you’re clit.

imagine 2

“ i said no jude. “ you harshly say as your busy trying to make breakfast. “ please baby you always let me suck you’re tits before training why not today? “ he asks annoyed, “ because i’m not in the mood-“ you was quickly cut off with jude’s hard boner poking ur ass and his hands sliding up ur small top into the bra playing with already hard nipples, “ please baby girl i need to suck them “ jude whispers desperately in ur ear as he leaves a wet kisses trail down ur neck and too ur boobs..

he got what he wanted like he always does

link

mason mount

imagine 1

You love teasing him, sending him dirty videos of yourself and multiple pictures while he’s away, you absolutely love jerking him off and slowly licking and sucking only his tip and you always try edge him until he can’t take it anymore.

You missed his moans and whimpers so you asked for a video of just that.

His moaning

imagine 2

You both love a mutual masturbation. ( link )

imagine 3

You both love each others sloppy wet kisses ( link )

Trent A.A

imagine 1

Trent was you’re best friend for years, every time you had a fall out with you’re boyfriend you would go to trent’s and he would comfort you, this time was different..

trent had enough of pretending he didn’t hate you’re boyfriend, One thing lead to another and well.. let’s just say you’re ex boyfriend wasn’t happy with the video he received that same night and you learned Trent absolutely loves sucking you’re tits while you ride his dick.

( 2 links for this one because i liked the first one to start with ( link boob sucking is best part ) but the second one fits better idk 🫣 ( link 2 )

imagine 2

he got a new car and you got mad he hadn’t fucked you in it yet as you always had car sex.

link

imagine 3

he loves fucking you’re pussy so hard that you can basically see his dick in your stomach ( video) and filming it for when he goes abroad.. he needs a new video update everytime before he leaves even if it’s last minute.

link

pablo gavi

imagine 1

link - here

you couldn’t come over to his house as you had work to finish.. he couldn’t wait on you an longer so he desperately begged for some new dirty pictures of you..

not 3 minutes later you had received ( link) this back

imagine 2

he loves lollipops and pussy… why not mix both of his favourite things together?

link

Hector fort

imagine 1

link

it’s his mission to always make you squirt but he loves when you use his dick to rub on you’re clit until you squirt and he loves fucking you afterwards.

imagine 2

he loves when you rub ur wet pussy on his dick and he loves every position you’re willing to try

link

imagine 3

( this screams hector to me )

he loves having his fingers down ur throat it makes his dick throb.

link

[coichii]

Last Christmas - BANG CHAN

pairing - bf!bangchan ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: comfort/fluff est relationship

word count: 1.7k… (I got carried away)

warnings: seasonal depression kind of? It is in a way.

summary : ever since last year, you’ve dreaded the holiday season. the feeling always brought you back to when he broke your heart. but can this relationship with chan fix that idea?

series note : hello !! welcome to part one of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “last christmas” by Wham!. enjoy !!

This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special

You were getting sick of the Christmas carols and songs already.

The holiday times haven't been very…cheery recently. Last year, you had a not so positive break up with your ex, and as much as you hate to admit it, it tainted the holiday season for you.

It was more than just ending things, it was messy and came with lots of heated and disgusting words directed towards you. The moment he walked out without ever looking back is the moment the chilly wind and gingerbread smell was ruined, tainted with the feeling of abandonment he had given you, and you weren’t sure if that would ever be fixed.

You started dating your best friend, Christopher, not too long after that, falling in love with the way he comforted and cared for you afterwards, looking at him with a new profound love. He fixed the deep cracks in your heart, but fixing the deep hatred for Christmas? You weren’t sure if even he could do that.

◂—♥︎—▸

“Damn I hate the cold.” You shivered, looking back at your boyfriend who was stifling back a giggle. “My nose burns.”

The couch is drowned in fuzzy blankets, but it’s not working. Home alone plays on the screen infront of you, but you’re not paying to much attention. His dorm room even smells of evergreen and peppermint, totally “winterified” to his liking. It has you feeling like the grinch.

“I guess I just have to hold you to make you warm, huh?” He winks, opening his arms and laughing at your playful eye roll. Nevertheless, you find yourself in his arms in less than two seconds, cozying up in his strong arms and warm sweater. “Better, baby?”

“Very much so.” You exhale, nuzzling up into his neck like a cat does its owner. He knows you hate this time, and he knows why. He remembers the night you came to his apartment, tears staining your beautiful face.

He stayed with you all night that day, keeping you from falling down the spiral that could have been a very nasty panic attack, but he’s comforting like that, and you love every moment of it.

“You know I hate this time, so thank you for being with me during it. Im sorry if I’m ruining the time for you.” You whispered, and he can hear the quiver in your voice and see the unshed tears in your eyes when you do.

“Don’t apologize, y/n, you know I don’t mind. Just want to make my baby feel better, hmm?” He consoled, rubbing your back and looking and you with fond eyes. You wanted to belive him, you really did; but it’s hard to when you’ve been told you’re a burden by some of the closest people in your life.

He can tell you’re not buying it, opting to just rub the small of your back in a silent consolement. He wants to find a way to make you feel better, a way to put a new life into Christmas for you, but he’s struggling.

That’s until he thinks of the perfect thing.

“Baby? Are you free Friday?” He asks, looking at you as confusion takes over your features. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m going to take you out for a date.” He responds, snaking his arm around your waist. You frown at this, but you feel guilty. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He whispers, eyes burrowing into yours. “Please trust me.” And you believe him. You believe every word.

◂—♥︎—▸

You have only yourself to blame when you find your self shivering in the passenger seat of Chris’s car, but you’re not really complaining.

You guys stopped for some hot cocoa on your way there, so it was helping you warm up as guys drove to a more rural part of the city.

Where were you guys going? You had no idea; he wouldn’t tell you. It had your heart beating with excitement and anticipation, but also nerves. You were sure you would love anything he could do for you, but the feeling was still there.

“We’re here, baby.” He says, grabbing your hand in yours. You look outside the window, surprised when you’re met with an abundance of people, but a practically empty field. “Uhm..where are we, channie?

“Cmon, you’ll see in a second.” He ushers, getting out of the car just to walk to your side and open the door for you, being ever the loving gentleman. You can see the nervousness stirring in his eyes as he helps you out, worrying if his plan will work the way he wants it to. But still, he was to move on.

“Okay, I want you to just trust me and close your eyes okay? I won’t let you trip.” He smiles in satisfaction as you do as asked, grabbing ahold of your hand as he slowly and carefully guides you along the rough, rocky path.

It’s a long, unsteady walk, but you can hear the sounds of crowds getting louder as he walks you to who knows where. “Oohs” and “Ahs” radiate through your senses as he suddenly comes to a stop, letting go of your hands and placing them infront of your eyes instead.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, heart racing with anticipation. Your heart mirrors his, the cold normally bothers you, but with him standing right near you, it’s not as chilly as it normally would be. “Yup! I’m ready.” And he slowly lifts his hands as you open your eyes.

Your eyes are immediately met with bright lights, different colors reflecting their illumination across the pond they were sat next too.

The lights spelled out different words and pictures, some even being animated into various silly motion pictures.

To say you were stunned would be an understatement, it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. As your mind processes the view infront of you, you slowly start to process what his plan must’ve been. Then it clicks.

He took you here, a place he was sure you’d love to give you a new perspective. He wanted to get rid of the sorrow and grey cloud that hung over this season and fill it with the beauty and cheer he knew you once had. Man, did his plan work.

You can tell it did when the lights start to get wavy and blurry, eyes filling to the brim with tears as one tips over the eyelid, coating your cheeks in the salty moisture.

Your silence had been worrying him the entire time, but he knowingly relaxes when he sees your reaction, engulfing you in a tight, comforting hug.

He holds you as you crave his warmth, rocking you slowly back and forth as a say to console you. He feels the wandering stares of others as they walk by, but he doesn’t care. You’re the only person he cares about in this moment.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You finally stutter out, burying your face into the crook of his neck where his warm, fuzzy scarf lays, giving you warmth on where the brisk, cool breeze hits your face.

“You don’t have to say anything to me. Just let me show you around, okay? It’s the least I can do for you.” You hear the sincerity in his tone as he speaks to you, so your not surprised when you find your self grasping his hand and he walks with you slowly.

Step after step after step shows a new inch of the land you haven’t seen before, childishly pointing out every new light fixture you see, looking up at Chris with the stars in your eyes as he just smiles at you.

The amount of photos he took is ridiculous in your words, but he knows you’ll never understand how absolutely breathtaking you always look to him.

The lights reflecting onto your perfect hair and glowy skin, the sparkling lights only brightening the ones in your eyes, the way you look with such excitement and purity every time you find a new light fixture? It has him utterly speechless to where he’s surprised with himself.

All he can do is grab onto your hand as you guide him through the crowds, running around like a little kid on a sugar high. Funny how the tables turned; first it was him cowardly leading you, now it’s him being dragged along and begged to stay for a little longer by you.

It has his heart filled with such joy, but your heart? Oh it’s expended tenfold.

The fact he would take time out of his busy schedule, take you out during a season you’re not that happy during, and show you to the most beautiful place you had ever seen before had you swooning.

The thought of your ex never popped in your mind not once, pushed out by the time you spent here with chris. It might be the best you’ve felt in a while, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not ever.

◂—♥︎—▸

“That was seriously the best time of my life, baby. Thank you so much. I seriously can’t believe you did that for me even after I’ve been a literal grinch recently. It means the world to me.” You confess, snuggling further into the gingerbread decorated blanket that was splayed across his torso.

He chuckles at your grinch comment, cute dimples poking out for just a second. “I’m telling you, baby. You better stop apologizing to me or I’m going to turn into the grinch.” You chuckle, eyes lighting back up again.

“Don’t you worry about that. I know it’s a hard time for you, so I just wanted to give you a new perspective. Don’t ever apologize for feeling how you feel and expressing those feelings. I love you the way you are, grinch or not.”

“Well thanks to you, there wont be a grinch me coming out ever again. I love you, Chris.” And you’re kissing.

Slow and sweet, taking in all the actions of this week to relish in each other. It’s been a whirlwind, but with him by your side, warming you up during it, you’re sure you’ll be okay.

Everything will be okay.

back to masterlist

[somerandos-world]

I hope she looks at me and thinks shit he's so pretty~~

RAFE CAMERON X FEM! READER

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ꕥ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Warnings: fluff, profanity and I think thats it lmk if there's anything else :)

Series Summary: You've been waiting for Rafe to make his move then you work up your own courage to do it first.

A/N: I js did this little blob a while ago and found it in my drafts but hope ygs like it. I'm probably gonna do a pt 2 but lemme know if it's even worth it. (Also if the color coding thing is too much lmk and I won't do it next time) Not proofread sry.

COLOR CODED SPEECH:

BLUE: Rafe

PINK: Y/N

ORANGE: Rachel Peters

GREEN: Emma Davis

YELLOW: Topper

Its the middle of your last year of highschool and its all unraveling before you. Wait, y/n please... But lets rewind a bit... You had been friends with Rafe since before you could walk, then you had met Rachel and Emma in 4th grade. Or rather they met you when Bella had been serving the two backhanded "compliments" and you told her to eat a sack of dicks, she cried and went home early that day. From there Rachel and Emma instantly fell in love with you. They became your friends so who'd blame you for wanting to introduce them to your best friend but you soon found out what a grave mistake that was.

You started to notice since you'd introduced them Rafe had the absolute hots for Emma. Everyone seemed to notice except for Emma herself. When you realized this you started to sort of back off because who were you to break what, two of the people you love most, had. You constantly regret not claiming him before he could get his eyes on Emma but its too late now and you've stayed the best friend since. But the start of your high school years that's when the heartache really set in you saw the way he would look at her and then the casual glances he'd send you. You'd wish for anything to make him look at you that way.

Then in the beginning of junior year you found out that he'd gotten his dream girl and they made it official, your heart sank. You sobbed and cried to sleep the night you found out. You'd see Emma push him around as they giggle their sweet nothings to each other, that's when you stopped talking to them all together. It's not like you didn't miss them or you hated them or anything but you knew how much it hurt being around them, around him. Rafe noticed but it would only be a mere 2 seconds before his attention was back on Emma. The first few days he figured you were just busy with class after all its high school he thought he can't be the center of your attention all the time but when it had turned from a couple days into a couple weeks and almost a month he knew something was up, you'd even been walking to school instead of riding with everyone in his car. He tried calling for weeks after him and Emma became a "thing" but you wouldn't pick up, he even tried coming over but every time your lights were out and your window was locked, even though your window was never locked. Then he approached you at school when he saw you wiping tears from your eyes as you walk out the bathroom Hey what's going on? Are you ok? I tried calling- you cut him off startled by his sudden appearance Yea I-I'm fine. It's good all goof- I mean good sorry got to go. You somehow manage a half-hearted smile before storming off... But Y/N- You walked off and tears threatened to spill over the rest of the day. Gradually he started to give up and the missed calls started to decline, the closest thing you'd had to his knocking on your window was the tree beside your houses branches hitting it, bent over by the wind.

Towards the end of the year they broke up because Rafe apparently didn't "feel" like going out with her anymore and he apologized profusely or at least that's what Emma told you on the phone the night of the incident. Hey... An audible lump was in her throat so Anna intervened... Hey, hun I'm sorry I'm js trynna calm down Emma but she said she wanted you, [Can I tell her?] you heard Anna whisper. Tell me what? Did Rafe say something? Is it about me? And why would Emma ask for me? "Ok, so Em said I could tell you on here but you have to promise to keep quiet until next time we see you ok?" these precautions make your stomach tighten "y-yea of course. what's up?" you replied "So Rafe's being a total dickhead and he said like that he just doesn't "feel" like going out with Em anymore like what? He's an idiot right?? And like Emma just really wanted me to call you so..." sniffles and sobs fill the background, but you couldn't feel more the opposite, you hated that your friend felt this way but you couldn't help but feel heat rising to your cheeks and a grin threatening to stretch along your face. You hated this. You shouldn't be feeling this way you were being a terrible friend, she's hurting right now and you should be help-

"hello? y/n?" Shit-I forgot the phone fuck! "OMG yea hey sry- i'm just uh s-shocked" Well you weren't lying about that. "So that's umm all he said?" you could almost see the look on Rachel's face. "Right!? Like he's such an idiot. He just said that and then like kept apologizing, but like we feel sorry for him because that's like his loss right? Right Em-Aww babe..." Yea his loss..."Sorry Emma fell asleep. You know I told them not to date when they started and you know already they've broken up before.."You start to drift back into your own conscience as Anna rambles. Shit of course I know. Rafe comes to ME with that shit when it happens...Its true when they would Rafe would call you and ask if you could come over to his or the other way around, he usually wanted you to come to his though, of course, it's not like he didn't absolutely love your room, your bed and the smell of lavender that cascaded the place but he knew his parents never minded your presence unlike other visitors and he knew how strict your parents were. And in that mood who would want to sneak into a house, and at that time of night. He'd just wanna cuddle and cry in your arms. His cries made your heart ache. I mean I don't understand yk like I thought that she'd get it like I was just joking yk? your heart almost burst. I know, love. you tried to hold back tears I'm sorry I-I would've called one of the guys but Kelce is staying out of town and Topper's been mad at me for being with Emma all the time And- Hey, Hey its ok I don't mind...you know that. I'm here for you. Yea, your a good friend y/n, thank you it really means a lot The first time they broke up you ended up sleeping over, and holding him through the night. You missed this and it was evil but you were sort of happy when they'd break up because you had your best friend again. At least you thought you were happy but soon it started to infuriate you that he was hurting so bad, and he seemed to go back to her every. single. time.

So you waited, each time, for him. But this time was different you knew it was when he was the one breaking things off and not her. Then surprise surprise guess who turned up at your window after school the next day Rafe fucking Cameron. Hiii! he waved like a 6 year old through the closed window. You ran to open it as you laughed and then prepared to cradle him expecting a sad and depressing complexion, as he gracefully tumbled through the aperture, but something was different it was as if he had a weight lifted off of him his head was held just a little higher, and well..I mean he wasn't crying.

Hey dipshit. What's up?

Umm, well I-I broke up with Emma

Oh I'm sorry well did you wanna talk about it or did you wanna lay down or...?

Don't get me wrong I totally do but I actually wanted to tell you something first...

OH MY GOD, theres no way. No, right it's not that he'd never-he would never see me that way. God he doesn't even look at me half the time he-again you get lost in your thoughts looking into space when you realize what you're doing you look back at him to see him already staring at you. Sorry um what is-what'd you wanna tell me? you start to feel your body go numb and all you can hear is your heartbeat. You feel your face start to heat up and in the overwhelming feelings of the moment-you turn away and hear him giggle lightly. Well I- Rafe steps closer and he begins to tilt his head just the slightest to the right and-

Hey dude got your call Kelce said you were here I knew Mr. and Mrs.Y/L/N wouldn't know you were though so what'd you- Topper says as he gradually opens the window and his head starts to lift-Oh shit my bad uh...didn't mean to interrupt. Topper is quick to awkwardly sonder out of the door as he covers his eyes with his forearm and snickers as he walks out like he'd just witnessed his parents share a slimy, sappy, smooch.

Topper! Shit sorry I'll be right back. Just gimme one sec. Rafe says as he walks out and your heart starts to calm itself.

No-yea sure of course, go its totally fine. God you wanted him bad. Your stomach started doing flips realizing what just happened you'd never been the religious type but you prayed and prayed that this wouldn't be just a dream and you hoped he intended to say what you've waited years for him to say. Thoughts and scenarios played through your mind as you layed back with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and your face stuffed into a pillow as you smother it. You start to wonder what'll happen afterwawrds. Oh my god wait. Did I shower yet? Shit! You start putting out some clothes for Rafe, because he'd been over so much you already have some of his in your drawers, just in case ;} Then you made your way out the door. Topper and Rafe were just outside the door trying to "quietly" whisper and argue as soon as Topper saw you he cleared his throat, fuck, you thought they had moved downstairs to talk. Shit! Duh, mom and dad don't fuckin' know he's here- You start to scold yourself as you walk out you hoping this can be fast so you can just take a shower and get back in the room Hey! Whats up! Rafe said as he turned to you. His eyes widened and his eyes couldn't help but dart up and down your figure only covered in a tiny towel barely covering any of you, and your pj's in hand. Well this is gonna be fun. Lord help me please. Guess you've gotten pretty good at this praying thing. Sorry I didn't know you guys were out here I was just gonna go take a shower til you got back. And I didn't know if us girls are having a slumber party so I left your pj's on my bed. Unless you're leaving... You try to laugh at your little joke which comes out awkwardly as you try to hint at them to move out of the way so you can get to the bathroom down the hall. No no no he's not leaving right, romeo?

Yea s-shower, that sounds, nice Rafe says under his breath, staring at you still completely dumbfounded, you start to feel the red take over your body and the grin stretching along your face, while Topper snaps him back into consciousness. Earth to Rafe! Rafe almost jumps in response. Maybe keep it in your pants and make way for the lady. He starts to gesture to you and the path. Oh yea! Sorry-Wait shut up he moves out of the way finally as he apologizes to you with a smile then shoves Topper at the realization of his comment. Thanks you say to Topper. Its all good he brushes off your gratitude like some heroic savior. Umm we'll just be in the room! Rafe shouts a little too loud as he attempts for his message to reach you across the hallway. "Y/N! Is everything ok up there?" Your mom shout. Dude! You're still not supposed to be here! You giggle and Topper shoves Rafe in the room and they continue to "whisper argue" once more. Yea! sorry mom just turned the TV up too loud! You look back at the two gesturing to be quiet with your finger mouthing "shh! shut up!" And Rafe mouth's a timid "sorryy" Rolling your eyes you finally walk into the bathroom and replay thoughts in your mind as you undress and let the water heat up.

It's gonna be a long night... you think to yourself basking in the hot, refreshing water, lathered in hibiscus and almond body wash as you scrub and resume to the depths of your conscience. Once finished after a good amount of time you step out. As you got dressed in your pajamas you realized that you didn't bring a bra which you usually don't but with "guests" over you probably should have. Meh who cares. You thought until you slipped on your tiny white silk top and your even smaller shorts. The way your top clung to you showing a little more cleavage than you'd like and how your shorts began to ride a little too high for comfort made you start to overthink the entire outfit. Fuck do I look like a slut?! What if he likes it though. No what if he thinks I'm a whore?? Shit. I should've brought a bra-

Knock! Knock! "Sweetheart? You ok?" Kill me now. "Yea Mom I'm coming out right now sorry!" Well now you're stuck with what you got so here goes. You step out and with a quick glance your mom says "I like that, that's a cute matching set." Well great now I know I look terrible. You think as you thank her passively making your way to your room. What if he already left fuck. You open the door expecting to be met with him and topper arguing or something but you find him laid out on your bed shirtless, his hair messy and worn, all tucked in like a big baby. You always thought he looked so pretty like this, not like a girl but handsome felt to formal and that definitely didn't fit him, but neither did hot though he definitely was at times, to you when he was like this, at peace and unbothered he was simply pretty, beautiful even. Then you realize that now is your chance to put on a bra before he wakes up. So you quietly make your way to your dresser beside your closet facing your back towards him in your bed hoping that he doesn't wake up. After you've found a bra you begin pulling your shirt over your head slowly keeping your back facing him. Little did you know that the sleeping beauty was in fact awake and carefully watching you.