#and now that i have finished... i can rest.... and write!!!

[solxamber]

stay w me in this one, kiss cam w the first years 🙂‍↕

Kiss Cam with: The First Years

a/n; anon you brain is so big!! i got so happy??? when i saw this?? i kinda blacked out for a while and ended up writing it

Ace Trappola

The arena was packed, the air buzzing with energy as the Magift team dominated the field. You were sandwiched between Deuce and Ace, the latter chugging a soda while obnoxiously yelling at the players.

“Ace, they can’t hear you,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he yelled, “PASS THE DISC, YOU IDIOT!”

“I don’t care! They need to know how bad they’re screwing up!” Ace shot back, waving his drink wildly.

Deuce leaned over, clearly mortified. “Can you not embarrass us in front of the whole school?”

Ace just smirked. “What? Embarrassed to be seen with your cooler, more handsome best friend?”

You snorted. “Handsome? In your dreams, Trappola.”

Ace turned to you, feigning offense. “Oh, so I’m not handsome? Guess I’ll have to let the kiss cam settle this one.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

As if the universe decided to spite you, the lights dimmed, and a giant heart frame appeared on the jumbotron.

You froze. “No. No way.”

Ace leaned forward, his grin turning devious. “Oh yes.”

Deuce, ever the supportive friend, burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “This is the best day of my life.”

Meanwhile, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “This has to be a mistake.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Come on, lovebirds! Don’t be shy! Show us some NRC spirit!”

“I’m going to die,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“Not without giving the people what they want,” Ace teased, turning to you with an exaggerated smirk. “Come on, for school pride.”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning. “Ace Trappola, I will—”

Before you could finish, Ace leaned in, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Relax. It’s just a little kiss, right?”

Your breath hitched. The crowd was chanting louder now, and your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the embarrassment.

“Just a little kiss,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then it happened.

When his lips met yours, the crowd erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause. Time seemed to stop as the noise around you faded into a distant hum.

His lips were warm and surprisingly gentle, and the faint taste of soda lingered as he pulled back, his face flushed but grinning like an idiot.

“Well,” he said, his voice slightly breathless, “that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

You blinked at him, your brain short-circuiting. “You… You just kissed me!”

“You kissed me back,” he shot back, his grin widening.

Deuce, still laughing like a lunatic, clapped Ace on the back. “Congratulations, Trappola. You finally grew a pair.”

Ace turned to the jumbotron, where your kiss was being replayed in slow motion. “Man, we look good together,” he said smugly, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You shoved him, your face burning hotter than the sun. “Don’t push your luck.”

The rest of the game passed in a blur. Ace was insufferably smug, Deuce wouldn’t stop teasing you, and your heart refused to calm down.

As the crowd filed out of the arena, Ace caught your hand, stopping you just outside the gates.

“Hey,” he said, his usual grin replaced with something softer. “So, uh… about earlier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like you. Like, a lot. And this is not just because of the kiss cam thing.”

You stared at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Ace…”

“I mean, no pressure or anything!” he added quickly, his face turning red. “But, you know, if you did want to be more than friends, I wouldn’t mind…”

You smiled, stepping closer and leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re such an idiot.”

His jaw dropped. “Wait—does that mean…?”

“It means yes, Ace,” you said, laughing. “But you better not let this go to your head.”

Ace grinned, grabbing your hand. “Too late.”

Spoiler: Ace tells everyone at school, and now half the campus thinks the kiss cam was staged. You’re stuck with him, but honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Deuce Spade

The stadium buzzed with excitement, the crowd alive with cheers as NRC's Magift team scored another point. You sat beside Deuce, who was yelling encouragement so earnestly you swore the players might actually hear him through sheer determination.

“Come on! You’ve got this! Pass it—yes!” he shouted, punching the air.

You couldn’t help but smile. Deuce’s enthusiasm was contagious, even if he had accidentally knocked over your popcorn in his excitement earlier.

“You’re going to lose your voice,” you teased, nudging his arm.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a grin. “This is important!”

What wasn’t important, however, was the dreaded kiss cam that appeared on the giant screen moments later.

The heart-shaped frame zoomed in on various couples, each one receiving cheers as they nervously or enthusiastically complied. You laughed, thinking nothing of it—until your own face appeared on the screen.

You froze. “Oh no.”

Deuce, oblivious, kept clapping until the heart frame zoomed out to reveal him beside you. His face turned crimson so fast you worried he might combust.

“W-What?!” he stammered, pointing at the screen as if denying its existence might make it disappear.

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers, the announcer’s voice booming. “Come on, lovebirds! Let’s see some NRC spirit!”

“Deuce, say something,” you hissed, your face burning.

“I—uh—I—” he stuttered, looking everywhere but at you. “They—uh—made a mistake! Right?!”

The announcer wasn’t letting up. “Looks like someone’s shy! Don’t leave us hanging!”

Deuce looked at you helplessly, his face a mix of panic and mortification. “I-I’m so sorry about this!”

You sighed, your own heart racing. “It’s fine, Deuce. Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on.”

He nearly choked. “A kiss?!”

“It’s not a marriage proposal!” you shot back, trying to keep your cool despite your own nerves.

He nodded frantically, visibly psyching himself up. “O-Okay! Let’s do this!”

Deuce leaned in slowly, his eyes shut so tightly you thought he might be praying for divine intervention. His lips brushed your cheek in the softest, most hesitant kiss imaginable before he pulled back like he’d just touched a live wire.

The crowd cheered wildly, but Deuce wasn’t done. In his panic, he’d miscalculated the kiss angle, and his forehead accidentally bumped yours as he pulled away.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” he asked, horrified.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your nervousness melting away at his sheer awkwardness. “I’m fine, Deuce.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his hands hovering like he wanted to check for injuries.

You smiled and, feeling bold, leaned forward to kiss his cheek in return. The crowd’s cheers doubled, and Deuce looked at you like you’d just announced he’d won the lottery.

“Um,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “That was… uh… nice.”

You laughed. “It’s just a kiss, Deuce.”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a kiss.”

Deuce spent the rest of the game sneaking glances at you, his face perpetually red. By the time the match ended, you were sure he’d worn a hole in the ground with all his nervous foot-tapping.

As the two of you walked back to the dorms, he finally cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I… I really like you.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “Deuce—”

“I mean it!” he said quickly, his words tumbling out like he’d been holding them back for ages. “I’ve liked you for a while, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and the kiss cam just kind of—”

You cut him off with a quick kiss to his lips, effectively silencing his rambling.

“Does that answer your question?” you asked, smiling at his stunned expression.

Deuce nodded, his face practically glowing. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Spoiler: Ace finds out and teases Deuce relentlessly, but Deuce doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class and holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack Howl

The stadium was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the stands as NRC's Magift team dominated the field. You sat beside Jack, who had insisted you attend because "It's good to support our school." Truthfully, you didn’t mind—watching the game with Jack was its own kind of fun.

He sat rigidly in his seat, tail swishing lightly as his sharp eyes tracked every play on the field. You chuckled at how serious he looked.

"Jack, relax. It's just a game," you teased.

"It's not just a game," he replied, his ears flicking. "This is about teamwork, discipline, and—"

He stopped mid-sentence when the crowd erupted in cheers. You both looked up to the big screen, only to see a giant pink heart frame around… you and Jack.

Cue Panic.

“Wait, what?!” you exclaimed, your face instantly heating up.

Jack’s ears flattened against his head as his eyes widened in sheer panic. “Oh no.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Looks like we’ve got a shy couple! Let’s hear it for them, folks!”

The crowd cheered louder, and you groaned. “Oh, come on…”

Jack was frozen in place, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. His tail puffed up slightly as he asked, “They’ll move on, right? They’ll pick someone else?”

You glanced at the screen, seeing your own mortified expression reflected back at you. “Not unless we do something.”

Jack’s face turned impossibly red. “You mean…?”

“Yes, Jack,” you said, trying to suppress your own embarrassment. “A kiss. Just a small one! It’s no big deal.”

Jack looked at you like you’d just asked him to leap off a cliff. “I can’t! What if it’s weird? Or awkward? Or—”

“Jack,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s just a game. Let’s get it over with.”

His ears twitched nervously as he nodded. “Okay. But, uh… where?”

“Where?” you repeated, confused.

“I mean, do I… your cheek? Your forehead? I—I don’t want to—”

“Jack!” you laughed, despite your own nerves. “Cheek is fine.”

He nodded again, his tail wagging nervously behind him as he leaned in. Just as his lips barely brushed your cheek, the crowd erupted in cheers—only for Jack to try to jerk back so fast that his forehead bumped yours.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing your head.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, panicking.

“I’m fine,” you said, trying not to laugh at his flustered expression. “But you might’ve just knocked me into next week.”

The announcer’s voice interrupted. “Let’s hear it for our lovebirds! What a show!”

You both sank further into your seats, faces burning. Jack mumbled an apology, looking like he wanted to crawl under the stadium.

“You know,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “You could’ve just kissed me properly.”

Jack froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “What?”

“Yeah,” you teased, grinning. “You’re already on the big screen. Might as well make it count.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his ears flicking nervously. Then, to your surprise, he leaned in again—this time more confidently—and pressed a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

The crowd lost it, cheering so loudly you could barely hear yourself think.

When Jack pulled back, his face was crimson, but there was a small, shy smile on his lips. “There. Was… was that okay?”

You smiled back, your heart racing. “More than okay.”

Jack spent the rest of the game sitting a little closer to you, his tail wagging uncontrollably. As you left the stadium, he finally cleared his throat.

“So… does this mean we’re—uh… dating?” he asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed, grabbing his hand. “What do you think?”

Jack’s tail wagged even harder. “I think I’m really lucky.”

Spoiler: Ace, Deuce and Epel find out later and tease Jack mercilessly, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class with his hand in yours.

Epel Felmier

The game was electric, with the crowd roaring as NRC held a narrow lead over RSA. You sat near the bench, cheering loudly for one player in particular. Epel was a blur of determination on the field, his every move brimming with adrenaline and a grit that made your heart race just watching him.

During halftime, the players jogged off the field to hydrate and strategize. Epel wiped the sweat from his brow and spotted you by the bench. You held up an electrolyte drink with a proud smile.

“Here, you earned it!” you said, handing him the bottle.

He accepted it with a quick grin, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. “Thanks. Didja see that shot I made earlier?”

“I did!” you replied enthusiastically. “You’re playing amazing out there!”

Your encouragement had him standing a little taller, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and affection. “Well, I ain’t done yet. Gotta show those RSA guys what we’re made of.”

But before he could head back to the huddle, the crowd’s noise shifted. You both turned toward the massive screen above the field, where a familiar heart-shaped frame surrounded… the two of you.

Epel froze for a fraction of a second, his flushed face turning an even deeper shade of red. You stared at the screen in surprise, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Is that… the kiss cam?” you muttered.

Epel glanced back at his team’s huddle, where his teammates were laughing and giving him exaggerated thumbs-ups. The crowd began chanting, egging him on.

In that moment, with the adrenaline from the game still coursing through his veins and the giddy rush of your praise in his chest, Epel made a snap decision.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you—hard, fast, and with enough confidence to leave you absolutely stunned.

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles as Epel pulled back, his violet eyes sparkling mischievously. “Thanks for the drink,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.

Then, with one last grin, he jogged back to his team, leaving you standing there, breathless and staring after him.

The rest of the game was a blur. Epel was on fire, scoring two more goals and securing the win for NRC. The crowd was ecstatic, the team celebrating wildly, but your mind was stuck on that kiss.

When the post-game frenzy finally settled, Epel approached you by the bleachers. He was still sweaty and flushed, but his usual nervousness was nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline from the game still seemed to fuel him as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Hey,” he started, his accent thick and his voice a little raspy. “About that kiss earlier…”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding. “What about it?”

Epel took a deep breath, his violet eyes locking onto yours. “I ain’t just kissin’ people for fun, ya know? I… I like you. A lot. And I’ve been wantin’ to say somethin’ for ages, but I didn’t know how. Guess the kiss cam kinda forced my hand.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty. “So what are you saying, Epel?”

“I’m sayin’... would ya go out with me?” he asked, his cheeks turning red again.

You pretended to think for a moment, but the truth was, you already knew your answer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Epel’s face lit up, his grin wide and genuine. “Really?!”

“Really,” you said, laughing.

He fist-pumped the air triumphantly before quickly trying to play it cool. “Well, uh, that’s great. I’ll, uh, plan somethin’ nice, alright?”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, your smile as wide as his.

The kiss cam video was all over campus the next day, much to Epel’s embarrassment and your amusement. Still, neither of you could deny how it sparked something wonderful between you.

And yet, every time someone teased him about it, Epel would just grin and shrug. “What can I say? I go for what I want.”

Sebek Zigvolt

The Magift stadium was loud and lively, the crowd cheering wildly as NRC battled RSA in a fierce match. You sat next to Sebek, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Not for the game, mind you, but for the honor of cheering for his young master.

“Do you see that?!” Sebek shouted, practically jumping out of his seat. “The precision! The sheer grace! Lord Malleus is unmatched on the field!”

You smiled, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, Sebek, I see it. You’ve mentioned it about... ten times now.”

“Only ten?!” He gasped, scandalized. “I must rectify this immediately—”

Before he could continue his speech, the crowd erupted into cheers. Confused, you looked up at the massive screen, only to freeze.

There, framed in a gigantic pink heart, were you and Sebek.

“What… what is this madness?!” Sebek’s voice boomed over the crowd noise, his face quickly turning beet red.

“It’s the kiss cam,” you explained, already feeling the heat creeping up your neck.

Sebek blinked at you, utterly baffled. “Kiss cam? What nonsense is this?!”

The announcer chimed in cheerfully. “Looks like we’ve got a lively one, folks! Give the crowd what they want!”

The audience clapped and whistled, clearly entertained by Sebek’s outburst. Meanwhile, you wished you could melt into the ground.

“Sebek, we’re on the big screen,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low. “Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on!”

Sebek recoiled as if you’d suggested dueling Malleus. “What?! A kiss? In public? In front of—of all these people?”

“Yes!” you snapped. “It’s not that big of a deal!”

“But—! But—!” Sebek sputtered, his hands flailing in an uncharacteristically awkward display. “I cannot—this is—HOW DARE THEY IMPOSE SUCH A THING?"

The crowd was relentless, chanting louder as Sebek grew more flustered.

“Sebek,” you sighed, leaning closer to him. “If you don’t just do it, they’ll keep us up there forever.”

His eyes widened, darting between you and the screen. “I—fine! But only to end this nonsense!”

Sebek sat up stiffly, his face as red as his dorm uniform. Slowly, he leaned toward you… only to stop halfway, completely frozen.

“Sebek,” you whispered, trying not to laugh at his deer-in-headlights expression. “You’re overthinking it. Just a little peck.”

He shut his eyes tightly, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “For the honor of the young master.” Then, with the precision of someone about to execute a high-level spell, he leaned in and pressed the briefest kiss imaginable to your cheek.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Sebek immediately pulled back, clutching his chest like he’d just fought a dragon.

“Well, that was…” You paused, trying to find the right word. “Anticlimactic.”

Sebek glared at you, still blushing furiously. “What more do you want?! I have upheld this ridiculous tradition to the best of my ability!”

You smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, come on. You’re supposed to kiss me on the lips.”

“WHAT?!” Sebek practically shouted, earning another wave of laughter from the crowd.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you teased, leaning in just a bit more.

Sebek’s brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment, but before you could follow through on your teasing threat, he surprised you by leaning in and kissing you properly.

It was quick and clumsy but sincere, and when he pulled back, the people sitting around you erupted into wild cheers.

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to faint. “There. Are you satisfied now?!”

You laughed, touching your lips. “Actually, yeah. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

For the rest of the game, Sebek sat ramrod straight, refusing to look at you.

When the match ended and you both walked back to campus, he finally broke the silence. “That… that was purely for practical purposes!”

You grinned. “Sure, Sebek. Whatever you say.”

He glanced at you, his blush returning in full force. “It—it meant nothing!”

But the way his hand brushed against yours—and stayed there—told a very different story.

Masterlist

[dreamscapeee222]

Could you write Arcane characters and reader fight. Who is the one to apologize first.

A/n: This took a while. I think I liked writing this one. I hope you like it too !!

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

You’re pacing the apartment, arms crossed as Vi throws her jacket onto the couch, fresh bruises blooming across her knuckles.

"You promised, Vi," you say, voice trembling, though it’s unclear if it’s from anger or worry. "You said you’d stop throwing yourself into danger."

Vi exhales sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "What do you want me to do? Sit back and let everyone fend for themselves?" Her tone is defensive, her walls already going up. "No, I want you to consider how I feel when you walk out that door like you’re invincible!" you shout, tears brimming. She flinches at your words but doesn’t respond, instead turning toward the door. "I need some air," she mutters, leaving before you can say another word.

Hours pass, and the apartment feels impossibly quiet without her. You’re curled on the couch when the door creaks open, Vi stepping in hesitantly. Her face softens when she sees you, guilt written all over her. "I shouldn’t have walked out," she starts, voice low. "And I shouldn’t have made you feel like you don’t matter. You do. More than anything." She sits beside you, her hand brushing yours. "I’ll try to be better—safer—for you. Just… don’t give up on me."

Jinx

The argument starts with something small—a misunderstanding spiraling into chaos, as things with Jinx often do. You’re frustrated, arms crossed as you say, "You can’t just act like nothing matters. You keep running off, leaving me to pick up the pieces." Jinx’s eyes narrow, her voice defensive. "Oh, so now I’m the problem? Maybe if you stopped trying to control me, I wouldn’t have to." Her words cut deeper than you’d like to admit. You shake your head, hurt threading through your voice. "That’s not what I’m doing, Jinx. I just want you to let me in." She scoffs, brushing past you with a muttered, "Whatever." The slam of the door leaves the room eerily silent.

Later, you find her sitting on the floor of her workshop, surrounded by half-finished projects. She’s fidgeting with a small gadget, but her movements are jittery, unfocused. When she looks up, there’s a flicker of guilt in her wide eyes. "I’m not good at this, okay?" she says suddenly, her voice soft but frantic. "I mess things up. I don’t mean to, but I do." You step closer, kneeling in front of her. "You didn’t mess up, Jinx. I just—" She cuts you off, shoving a tiny, lopsided trinket into your hands. It’s a crude carving of you two, rough but undeniably heartfelt. "I made this. I was mad, but I kept thinking about how much I hate when we fight." Her gaze drops. "I’m sorry. I don’t want to push you away. You mean too much to me." You wrap your arms around her, and she clings to you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. Her whispered, "Don’t hate me, okay?" is a quiet plea that you’ll never stop reassuring her about.

Caitlyn

The fight begins when Caitlyn forgets to show up for dinner, something you planned weeks ago. You’re sitting at the table, the candles burned low, food cold on the plates when the door finally opens. She looks exhausted, her uniform slightly disheveled.

"Caitlyn," you start, your tone sharper than you intended. "You didn’t even send a message." Her brow furrows. "It was work—there was an emergency. You know I can’t just drop everything." You stand, crossing your arms tightly. "I get that your work is important, but do you ever think about us? About me?" Her expression falters, but instead of conceding, she doubles down. "This isn’t fair. I’m doing everything I can to keep things safe—for all of us." The tension snaps, and you turn away, muttering, "Maybe you’re better off with someone who doesn’t need you to show up."

The silence that follows is deafening. Caitlyn doesn’t respond but leaves quietly, and for the rest of the evening, the apartment feels colder without her presence.

Hours later, the door creaks open again. You’re curled up on the couch, pretending not to notice her until she speaks softly. "I thought about what you said," she begins, sitting on the edge of the couch beside you. "And you’re right. I haven’t been showing you how much you mean to me." You glance at her, catching the guilt in her tired eyes. She reaches for your hand. "I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll do better. For us." Her sincerity melts away your hurt, and as you lean into her touch, she adds with a small smile, "And next time, I’ll at least bring dessert as an apology."

Ekko

The argument begins when Ekko overworks himself again, pushing past limits you’ve warned him about. He’s been up for hours, fixing up a broken clockwork mechanism, his hands trembling with exhaustion.

"You promised you’d take breaks," you say, stepping into the workshop, frustration clear in your voice. "You’re going to burn out, Ekko." He doesn’t look up, his jaw tightening. "I don’t have time to stop. The Undercity needs this, needs me." You cross your arms. "And what about me? Do I even matter in your world of never-ending responsibility?" His head snaps up at that, brows furrowed. "That’s not fair. You know I’m doing this for a reason." The hurt spills out before you can stop it. "Sometimes it feels like I’m just waiting on the sidelines for scraps of your time." You leave before he can respond, your heart heavy.

Hours later, you’re in bed, staring at the ceiling, when there’s a soft knock on your door. Ekko steps in hesitantly, holding a small gadget you’ve seen him working on before—a music box. "I made this for you," he says quietly, setting it down beside you. The melody that plays is soft and familiar, something that always calms you. His voice cracks as he speaks. "I messed up. You’re not on the sidelines—you’re the reason I keep going. I just… don’t know how to balance it all sometimes." You look at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through your lingering anger. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing yours. "I’ll do better. For you. I swear." The fight doesn’t disappear instantly, but as you lean into him, you know you’ll figure it out together.

Jayce

The fight begins when Jayce cancels plans at the last minute—again. This time, it was supposed to be a rare, quiet evening together, but his work at the Council dragged him away.

You stand in the kitchen, arms crossed, as he walks in late that night. He looks tired, but you’re too frustrated to care. "Did you even think to tell me you weren’t coming?" Jayce sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was swamped. Things ran over—what do you want me to say?" "I want you to say you actually care," you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. His expression shifts, hurt flickering across his face.

"That’s not fair," he counters, his tone defensive. "You know I care about you. But this work—it’s not something I can just walk away from." You shake your head, stepping back. "Sometimes it feels like your work is the only thing that matters to you." You leave him standing in the kitchen, retreating to your room and shutting the door behind you.

When you wake the next morning, there’s a soft knock on the door. Jayce steps in, holding a small tray with coffee and your favorite breakfast. His sheepish smile doesn’t quite mask the regret in his eyes. "You’re right," he says, setting the tray down. "I’ve been letting work take over, and that’s not fair to you. To us." He hesitates before sitting beside you. "I hate fighting with you. Please let me make it up to you." You sigh, leaning into his warmth. "You have to actually try, Jayce." His arms wrap around you, his voice soft. "I will. You’re more important to me than anything else. I’ll show you that."

Viktor

The argument starts after you notice Viktor pushing himself too hard again. His lab is dimly lit, a cluttered mess of papers and prototypes, and he’s leaning heavily on his cane while adjusting a mechanism.

"Viktor, you need to rest," you say firmly, stepping into the room. "This isn’t sustainable." He glances at you briefly but doesn’t stop. "There’s too much at stake to rest," he replies, his tone clipped. "You know that." You cross your arms. "I also know what happens when you push yourself past your limits. You can’t keep doing this to yourself." Viktor stiffens, his frustration bubbling over. "And what would you have me do? Sit idle while everything crumbles around me?" The sharpness in his voice stings, and you take a step back. "I just want you to take care of yourself for once," you say quietly before turning and leaving the lab.

Later that evening, you hear a knock on your door. When you open it, Viktor is standing there, looking apologetic, a faint tremor in his hands. "You’re right," he says, his voice softer now. "I’ve been careless with myself, and that’s not fair to you. Or to us." He hesitates, as though searching for the right words. "I never want you to feel like I don’t hear you. I just… get lost sometimes." You step aside to let him in, and he takes your hand gently. "I’ll try to be better—for you. For both of us." His sincerity melts the tension, and as you sit together in the quiet, you know he means it.

Mel

The argument begins with Mel’s tendency to keep her emotions guarded, leaving you feeling shut out again. It happens during dinner, her silence heavy as she focuses on her work instead of you.

"Do you even care about this relationship?" you ask, the words escaping before you can stop them. Mel’s head lifts sharply, her calm demeanor cracking slightly. "What kind of question is that?" she replies, her tone cool but defensive. You press on, frustrated. "You never let me in, Mel. It’s like you’ve already decided you don’t need me." She sets her utensils down with precision, her voice clipped. "And you’ve decided to make this about you. I have responsibilities that extend beyond personal feelings." The words sting, and you shake your head. "Maybe I should stop trying if you’re not willing to meet me halfway." You leave the room before your voice can break.

The next morning, Mel finds you sitting by the window, your face turned toward the city. She approaches quietly, holding a small, beautifully wrapped box. Without a word, she sets it down beside you. Inside is a delicate bracelet, the design intricate and unmistakably hers. "You’re not wrong," she admits softly, sitting beside you. "I’ve built walls to protect myself, but they’ve shut you out. That wasn’t my intention." Her hand reaches for yours, her touch tentative. "I care for you more than I’m able to show sometimes. Please, don’t doubt that." You turn to her, the vulnerability in her expression easing the ache in your chest. "I don’t need grand gestures, Mel. I just need you." She nods, her voice firm but warm. "And you’ll have me—every piece, no matter how long it takes."

See pinned.

[weltraum-vaquero]

i was scrolling through pinterest and i came across a prompt: “i can’t focus with your damn hand on my— ooh..” i IMMEDIATELY thought of jayce 🫢 can i request sumn like that? i love your work so much 😭😭

Hi anon, this prompt drove me insane. Thank you so much!

Play (dirty)

Jayce Talis x GN Reader

Summary: A fancy play at the Piltover Opera is a good excuse as any to deck out. And an even better excuse to have some fun with your partner.

Word count: 2.5k

MDNI. Mature content under the cut.

Tags: Sub Jayce, slight exhibitionism, dry handjobs, heavy petting, alcohol consumption

Jayce could never stand still. There’s something in him that’s constant, restless, relentless. Always the type to fiddle, to twirl his pen between his fingers, to scratch at his own scruff in thought, to chew the inside of his cheek, to bounce his leg. His mind is a hyperactive, brilliant thing; equal parts blessing and curse.

He does it now, too — bouncing his leg, that is, under the fine silk of his prettiest burgundy slacks (his ass, though nothing to write home about, never failed to look tremendous in those. Something about the thin, generously revealing material seaming to the humble curve of his ass in a salacious display). Jayce taps his fingers on the sturdy oakwood of the theatre chair as he stares at the still lowered curtain, crosses his legs, sighs, uncrosses them, bounces his leg again.

It’s the final stretch of the second intermission, though the play isn’t particularly doing it for you, mainly because you’ve seen this exact rendition before, with Jayce at your side. Just… not from up here: an opulently designed balcony, all to yourselves, just shy of the stage. Generous courtesy of Salo for a favor taken rather than given from Jayce, a situation that’s been stressing him out something fierce these past few weeks. You digress. That’s not what matters anymore — he’s earned a break. He’s earned something good.

It’s a lovely opportunity to spend some time with him outside of the confines of his lab or your shared home, which is growing increasingly rare. It’s a lovely opportunity to put on your shiniest clothes and make a pretty sight for one another.

Undeniably, that’s been the best aspect of it. Jayce has been sneaking looks at you the whole time — perhaps bored with the play, perhaps too enticed with you. And you can’t exactly blame him, because you’re not doing much better either. 

How are you meant to do anything when you have a much more captivating sight to take in, sitting tensely in the chair next to yours?

A dark shirt that hugs the proud swell of his chest just right (certainly something to write home about), a pretty burgundy jacket just the same warm colour as the fruity merlot he’s finished sipping on, lingering on his plump lips. Silk curling at the seams, stretching under the heft of his now thicker thighs as they rest on the seat, tie loosened just so, and he’s good enough to eat. 

You lay a warm hand on the inside of his leg, and Jayce, as he always does, yields. Less on thought, more on instinct, always so eager, before he turns to look at you with a question in amber eyes gone chocolatey dark in the low light of the room.

“Hm?” 

His cologne hits you in a peppery-sweet, floral wave as he leans in, leans closer, and gives you the attention you’re so clearly demanding.

“Should I get us more wine?” You make feeble conversation, more eager to hear his voice than his thoughts. He’s been sharing most of them in whispers throughout the play so far as is. 

Jayce shakes his head, flashes a conspiratorial, boyish little smirk. “If I have any more, I might um,” he breaks out in a short, clearly tipsy giggle, “do something I really shouldn’t be doing up here.”

His hand finds yours, pinkies twining together in a near juvenile but vulnerable display of his affection, a plea for affection. And, oh, his eyes, though his pupils are blown wide, glitter mischievously like a cat’s about to pounce. Two can play that game… 

“Mm. That would be a terrible look on you,” you emptily agree. “Think of the headlines… Man of Progress caught moaning during Winter Solstice play, Man of Progress bent over the railing on the opera’s most lavish balcony…”

Jayce nods, a little drunkenly. Leans in for a kiss before he breathes: “Terrible.”

You let him have it — how could you not? Let him sloppily lick at your mouth like an overeager puppy for a long, dizzying, smooth-merlot attempt at a kiss. He smiles into it, as if in thanks.

Before you give a gentle little push at the plush swell of his chest with your other hand, pacing him, pulling away to leave him in a dazed little stupor. His breath hits your now slick lips in a warm, wet brush.

“Intermission’s about to end.” You pat his thigh less sensually, more like you’d pat an obedient dog for a trick well done. “Better keep quiet and focus on the third act.”

It looks like it pains him to settle back into his velvet seat, so you leave your hand on the top of his now still thigh — a reminder, a promise. It keeps Jayce on his toes more than the narrative unfolding before you does. Well worked sinew draws so tight you can feel it vibrate even under the soft layer of plush fat on his thighs, and as the action in the play begins to find its inevitable build, you find your hand wandering. 

Just to the inside of his thigh, first, where he’s softer, which he gladly offers up to you. Fingers draw patterns more intricate than the paisley on his vest, until poor, tormented Jayce begins to shift in his velvet seat. Tilts his hips this way, then that, then readjusts his whole frame in the seat with an awkward clear of his throat when it creaks.

The rich tones of a singular violin crescendos in sync with the dip of your hand further, up, up, until you reach that tense tendon on the inside of his leg, where his thigh seams to his hip.

And further inwards, his straining cock nudges the back of your knuckles through the silk of his pants. Jayce jumps with the contact… Poor, poor thing.

“Aw, Jayce...” It’s both pity and reprimand, a whisper so low he can barely hear it. The flesh of his thigh spills from between squeezing fingers; it has him lowering his head in shame and trying to breathe through it. If not for the sacred quiet of the imposing room, for the performers playing their instruments as deftly as you’re about to play him, he would have at the very least whined for it. A low, pleading, dog-like sound.

Instead, he shoots you a look. Desperate and dazed and wide-eyed all at once in the dark of the room, before it turns into a kind of anger that does not and will not bite. Nibbles on you like an angry puppy, more like.

“How d-do you expect me to focus when your damn hand is—“ and you give him what he wants, “o-oh.”

Grabbing a handful of the straining outline of his dick through his pants, rubbing just once, from the wet patch on the tip to as far down as the silk allows.

“Better?” You ask.

Jayce breathes a terrified, shivering sigh.

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

“I can stop,” you remind. He knows it to be the truth intimately; though he aches to please to a fault, Jayce has learned a thing or two about respecting his own boundaries by now. You trust that if he needs you to, he will give you the word.

“Don’t.” Armrests gripped so tight they could splinter, eager hips raise off the theatre seat to chase your hand until your palm cradles his leaky tip once more. Wide eyes flutter closed and cherry slick lips part in a muted expression of bliss.

“Then don’t make a mess,” you breathe into his ear. “And keep quiet. Can you do that, baby?”

Jayce nods desperately, and does a surprisingly great job at swallowing another moan as you twirl your fingertips around what should be the crown of his cock, silk gliding under your hand akin to well oiled skin. He lets it happen gladly, spreads his legs in welcoming especially when you reach further down, until the dainty weight of his balls sits cupped in the groove of your palm. There, you linger, simply holding him where he’s most sensitive, unmoving.

Jayce exhales shakily, baby doe eyes flicking between you and the hand between his legs in questioning, in hope. The soft, still cradle of your palm turns greedy as you feel him up, fingertips curling around the heft of his bulge, his cock pressing into your hand. All of him trembles with how he stifles a gasp into the back of his fist.

You simply knead at him idly, the way a satisfied cat would as it purrs, and make a show of diverting your attention back to the play you couldn’t care less about. It gets him off, in some capacity, to be touched but not paid attention to. It had made him soil his pants so quick, once, simply letting him have his pleasure against your thigh while you were busy with a book, and it’s a technique you employ on occasion since. Coupled with the fact that Jayce, touchy and needy as he is, hasn’t gotten much chance at release lately, you know for certain he will find it now, and fast. 

The glossy silk has gone sticky wet at the very tip of his dick, so much so it even leaves your hand damp after an indulgent squeeze at it. Below, horns blare with the oncoming climax of the play, music daunting in its grandeur even from up so high. In spute of such an enticing distraction at hand, you can’t help but marvel at them as you palm Jayce’s cock. And you recognize the melody the very next moment, the thrill of hearing it for the very first time; just as you know the end Jayce is approaching with intimate familiarity, so do you remember the next part of the play. 

It will go quiet for a long, breathtaking moment to draw the audience to the edge of their seats, the calm before the storm — and Jayce, judging by the sweat on his brow, the way he almost tears into the back of his fist with his canines, Jayce will not, cannot be quiet.

The realization must hit him at the same time as it hits you, because his free hand grabs yours in a death grip, a decidedly desperate attempt at halting the inevitable. 

“S-stop,” he whispers, his lips meeting on the p just moments before the entire orchestra quiets. 

You can hear every bated inhale in the grandiose room — but none of them as sweet as Jayce’s. The whole room buzzes, alight with the anticipation of the audience. 

Jayce squeezes your hand vehemently, like the weight of his barely contained orgasm threatens to crush him. His thighs clench around your hand, his body curls, he exhales in a silent cry, before he presses his hand to his lips so hard it makes you wince. You lean in close enough to be able to hear his thoughts, let him hide his face in the fabric on your shoulder.

“Breathe,” you coo at him like he’s in pain, stroking your thumb up, then down the aching outline of his cock. It makes his hips jump. “Once the music starts again, I’ll take care of you.”

You can feel him nod his head against your shoulder, can feel his grip slacken, can hear the tension in the room crackling like lightning when a violin starts a short-lived solo that is soon joined by the rest of the orchestra in a tsunami.

Jayce lets go of your hand, spreads his legs as if to offer himself up on a silver platter to you — full, complete trust. You slip the buttons of his pants out of their eyelets fast, aided by the near oily slipperiness of the fabric, the press of his cock, which have the front flap popping open the rest of the way.

Your hand slides down the bump of his soft, fuzzy tummy, into his pants, his underwear, easily, because it’s warm, familiar territory. Cradling all he’s worth in your hand, you scoop both his cock and his balls from the confines of the silk, laying them out vulnerable and exposed to the cold air.

It forces a gasp from Jayce, fortunately lost to the music, instinctually going to cover himself with both hands at the sensation and the prospect of being at the mercy of such a grand, full room.

“I’ve got you,” you remind him. Deft hands reach for his breast pocket, stealing away his handkerchief from him. Even dazed like this, Jayce understands your intention easily, and wins another battle against his instincts as he lets his hands fall away from where they’re cupped over himself protectively. One hand fists the silk of his pants, and the other wraps around your forearm not in guidance, but in seeking, of your presence, of you, grounding himself.

Jayce goes perfectly still as you stroke his dry cock, from root to swollen tip. It can’t be satisfying, you know so by just the feel of your hand around him, the way his foreskin drags with the grip you have on him, up, over his leaky cockhead, then down, exposing him where he’s most sensitive. It can’t be good, but it’s enough, because Jayce whines, quiet and half-terrified as he hides his face against your shoulder, before he goes rigid with your next upward stroke. 

And you do that thing he likes so much — his tip’s smeared in enough of his precum to facilitate an overstimulating twist of your palm around just the ruddiness of his crown. His mouth falls open in a silent wail.

Jayce is so easy. Shoots his load into the handkerchief you bring up to his cock just in time, lets you milk all his overwhelming orgasm’s worth into the fabric until he can’t help but clench his thighs around your still moving hand. Trembles in time with his twitching cock as you wipe the strings of cum off his sticky, swollen cockhead and stuff the handkerchief back into his breast pocket.

The orchestra quiets once more, for good this time, and the audience’s applause roars. There won’t be much time until the lights come on, so you make quick work of tucking him back into his pants, and once Jayce regains some of his mental footing, he helps you button them back up.

Just in time — the lights blind you, but not as much as he does. Sitting low in his seat, slick with sweat, disheveled in his best clothes, and smiling at you so wide and dopey he shines, Jayce is brighter than any light, any sun. His chest rises and falls at a fierce, breakneck pace as he catches his breath.

You lean in to grant him a well deserved kiss to the cheek, one he chases with his mouth instead, and smiles into when you lick what remains of the by now long dried merlot from the ridges of his lips.

It makes him smile wider, a blush that matches his suit perfectly blooms on his cheeks. He takes the hand you’d stroked him with, intertwines your fingers like the lovesick fool that he is. You squeeze back, like the lovesick fool that you are, and can’t help but gaze into his eyes even as the eager applause slowly fizzles out.

“They clapped for the wrong performance,” you whisper to him. “You were far more glorious than any play.”

[rafesbabyg1rl]

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there. 

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back. 

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is. 

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.” 

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks. 

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you. 

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you. 

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight. 

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face. 

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream. 

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man. 

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away. 

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this. 

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.” 

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair. 

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low. 

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately. 

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly. 

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this. 

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good…give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger. 

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need. 

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t. 

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you. 

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process. 

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you. 

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine. 

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you. 

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud. 

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?” 

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him. 

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum. 

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere. 

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with. 

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter. 

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs. 

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” 

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet. 

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself. 

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries. 

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue. 

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him. 

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of. 

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh. 

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction. 

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle. 

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead. 

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did. 

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…” 

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm. 

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.” 

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly. 

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self. 

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your…boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously. 

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.” 

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again,  passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was. 

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you. 

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole. 

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?” 

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

[p0orbaby]

hello! could you write something 🌶️🌶️🌶️ maybe leah tying r up for the first time

it’s suggestive but there’s no actual smut

-

The room is warmer than usual, the kind of warmth that feels electric against your skin. Leah’s standing at the foot of the bed, rope in her hands, her fingers fidgeting with it in a way that’s more endearing than intimidating. Her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a nervous energy in the air that makes you both grin and bite your lip at the same time.

“Alright,” she says, exhaling a breath she clearly doesn’t realise she’s holding. “So, um… wrists?”

You raise a brow at her, leaning back against the headboard with your arms crossed, doing your best to play coy even though your pulse is thundering. “You don’t sound very convincing, babe”

Leah narrows her eyes, and her jaw ticks slightly—an expression she probably thinks makes her look tough, but to you, it’s just adorable. “I am convincing,” she says, stepping closer. “I just… haven’t done this before”

You sit up straighter, reaching for her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” you say softly.

She snorts, shaking her head. “Oh, I’m comfortable. I’m just trying not to tie you up like a shoelace”

You laugh, and she glares at you—playfully, of course. But when she takes a seat beside you, there’s something in her eyes that changes. It’s softer, warmer, like she’s letting herself lean into this, into you. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she murmurs, her hand brushing against your thigh. “Trying something different. Something that’s just ours”

Her voice is so low, so intimate, that your breath catches in your throat. “Then take your time,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere”

That’s all she needs. Her confidence clicks into place as she motions for you to extend your arms. You do as she asks, letting her take control—not in a domineering way, but in a careful, deliberate one. The rope slides over your skin, smooth but firm, as Leah wraps it around your wrists. Her movements are slow, precise, and even though she’s focused, you can see her biting her lip to hide her nerves.

“Is that okay?” she asks after each knot, her eyes flicking to yours.

“Perfect,” you reply every time, because it is. Not just the sensation of the rope but the way she’s looking at you, like she’s unravelling something between you that neither of you fully understands yet.

When she finishes, she leans back to admire her work, her hands resting on your knees. “Okay,” she says, exhaling again. “Now what?”

You smirk, leaning forward as much as the rope will let you. “Now, you kiss me”

Leah’s grin is immediate, and she’s on you in seconds, her lips meeting yours with a heat that’s been simmering under the surface all night. Her hands are everywhere—your jaw, your waist, your thighs—as if she can’t decide where to touch first. She pulls back just enough to whisper, her breath hot against your mouth, “You look so good like this”

“Yeah?” you challenge, tugging slightly at the rope to test it. “What are you going to do about it?”

Her laugh is breathless, nervous but excited, and she presses her forehead to yours. “Give me a minute. I’m still figuring that out”

You chuckle, tilting your head to capture her lips again. “Take all the time you need, Williamson. I’m all yours”

[v1sexual]

always forever , vi (arcane) part two

a collection of (modern) domestic life activities with vi ! college au , modern au , self indulgent

part one , part two , part three, part four soon !

note : this one sucks lol , i literally made this at work a couple of days ago and didn’t have the willpower to write a new one. anyways, hope u guys like it !

drabble two : its mariah carey season

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who was ecstatic when you suggested to decorate the flat for christmas. she and her family are not religious at all, but christmas is something that they celebrate every year without fail.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who went all out and spent around $500-$600 on christmas decorations and around $1000 for christmas gifts. (she bought like five different types of christmas lights, a 6 foot christmas three, and a lot of stuff she definitely didn’t need)

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who’d show off by carrying all the shopping bags in one go and would not let you help. “just doing my job shortcake,” she’d say as she opened the front door for you, her pinky visibly shaking as two heavy shopping bags hang off it.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who’d stop to look and admire you as you two decorated the christmas three. she watched, as you strategically placed the blue, green, and red baubles in a pattern so that they’re even distributed. it’s been a couple of days since you two kissed, an unofficial confession to how the two of you felt for each other. after that night you’ve shared countless of kisses (and a little bit of heaving petting here and there). but you guys haven’t really addressed what you two are, if this is a start of a relationship or just something casual (her bet is on the former though).

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who excused herself and told you she needed to go to the washroom but in reality she just needed an excuse to sneak off and set-up a mistletoe under your door, her door, and the bathroom door.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who basically barricaded the hallway to that leads to her and your room. she literally hung a white sheet in front of the hallway to hide what she’s planning.

“vi you’ve been there for two hours!” you whined, hand resting on your stomach. “i literally need to shit!”

vi popped her head out from behind the white sheet, “give me two minutes baby i’m almost finished.” she said then popped her head back in.

as much as you’d love to cuss out vi right now, you just couldn’t ignore the way your belly does flip flops the second she called you ‘baby’ (also the fact that it somehow made you no longer wanna shit).

approximately two minutes later vi popped her head out again, “close your eyes for me shortcake.” you sighed but closed your eyes anyways.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who quietly turned off the light. she intertwined her fingers with yours as she held the white sheet open and leads you towards the hallway.

“okay shortcake, open your eyes.”

a gasp left your lips as you opened your eyes. the hallway was illuminated in nothing but white christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, it looked like something out of a pinterest board. personalized wreaths hung outside your rooms (yours had books, a guitar, and all your favorite little things. then vi’s had a hockey stick, a rugby ball, and a pair of boxing gloves).

“do you like it?” vi asked quietly.

you didn’t say anything, eyes still focused on the hallway.

“i-i can take it down if you-“

you cut her off by basically jumping into her arms, you wrapped around her in a tight hug burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“i love it,” you whispered against her skin. vi smiled down on you, her hands situated under your legs to support your weight.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! whose face you showered in kisses when you broke free from the hug.

a dopey smile played on vi’s lips as she leaned against your palm, eyes fluttered shut as your lips met hers. she sighed contently, her hands rest on your hips her as her thumb rub circles against your clothed skin.

vi has never felt so happy, so content. she felt as though her heart would burst from how hard it pounded against her chest.

“i love you,” she said. “i don’t know if it’s too early to tell you, but i love you. i have for a while now, and i understand if-“

you cut her off by shortly pressing your lips against hers. “i love you too, violet.”

ꕀ extra !

“oh. my. god.” powder exclaimed. she gripped her phone tightly, re-reading the text her sister sent her.

ekko raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend, placing his guitar in it’s stand before walking towards his bed and plopping down next to her. “everything alright pow?”

powder didn’t say anything, instead she shoved her phone in ekko’s face. it took him a second to read the text but judging by the photo vi sent powder, he already knew what was up.

“can’t believe it took them this long to be honest.”

“cut them some slack little man,” powder rolled her eyes playfully before shooting vi a quick text. “it’s not like you’re any better.” she teased which made ekko roll his eyes.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he replied, pressing a kiss to powder’s cheek.

[kinzhae]

"Can We Not Do This?"

Reader gets home after a long day, unfortunately for her she has a light argument with her partner making her more frustrated and tired like she was not enough.

Part 1; Reader x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento Part 2; Choso, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro.

Angst(?) to comfort, Tired Reader, Fainting, arguing.

I felt like I should write this since working is weighing on me so much these days that I have to go home with a temper and argue with my sister over little things LMAO

Gojo Satoru

Gojo was sprawled on the couch, tossing popcorn into his mouth as you trudged into the room. You had just returned from a draining mission, your head pounding from the stress and exhaustion. All you wanted was a moment of silence, but of course, Gojo had other plans.

“Welcome back, sunshine!” he said, grinning. “You look like you got hit by a truck. Need me to fix that?”

“Not now, Satoru,” you muttered, heading for the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You’re always so serious. Smile a little,” he teased, following you.

You clenched your fists, the pressure in your temples intensifying. “Can you not for once? I’m tired!”

His grin faltered for a moment, but he didn’t stop. “Oh, someone’s cranky. Did I say something wrong, sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that!” you snapped, turning to face him, only for the room to spin. Your grip faltered, and the glass you were holding slipped from your fingers, shattering on the floor as your knees buckled.

Gojo’s carefree demeanor vanished in an instant. He was at your side, catching you before you hit the ground. “Y/N! Hey, hey, talk to me!” His voice, usually light and playful, was now trembling with worry. He cradled you carefully, his blindfold pushed up to reveal his panicked gaze as he checked your face and pulse.

When you stirred slightly, he exhaled in relief, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face. “I’m such an idiot,” he muttered under his breath, his confident tone replaced by guilt. “I should’ve noticed you weren’t okay. I didn’t mean to push you like that.”

As your eyes fluttered open, his voice softened. “Don’t move yet, okay? Just rest. I’ll clean this up, and I’m getting Shoko to check on you. No arguments.”

For once, there was no teasing, no jokes, just his presence as he stayed close, whispering reassurances. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, Y/N. Let me take care of you this time.”

Geto Suguru

You were already weary as you entered the apartment, your shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Suguru stood by the window, arms crossed, a frown etched onto his face. He hadn’t said much lately, and tonight, his frustration bubbled to the surface.

“You’re late again,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with disappointment. “You could’ve at least called.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Suguru, I’ve had a long day. I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

“That’s always your excuse,” he replied, his gaze steady. “You’re shutting me out again, aren’t you?”

“Can we not do this?” you snapped, your patience worn thin. “I’m doing my best, okay? I don’t need this right now!”

His expression hardened. “I’m just asking for a little consideration—”

Before he could finish, your vision blurred. The pounding in your head grew unbearable, and your knees buckled. You barely registered the sound of something clattering to the floor as Suguru rushed to your side.

“Y/N!” His calm demeanor cracked, replaced by alarm as he caught you. He gently laid you on the couch, his hand cradling the back of your head as he checked for signs of injury.

When you stirred, his voice was low, almost trembling. “I didn’t realize how much you were dealing with. I should’ve seen it.” He pressed a cool cloth to your forehead, his usually composed face etched with guilt. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened instead of pushing.”

His hand lingered in yours as he whispered, “Rest now. I’ll handle everything else. You’re my priority.”

Nanami Kento

Nanami had always been a man of order and routine, but today, his usual composed demeanor felt more critical than supportive. You had barely walked in the door when he commented, “You’re late again. You’re overworking yourself.”

“I know,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes.

“Knowing isn’t enough,” he continued, his tone even but firm. “You need to manage your time better. This isn’t sustainable.”

“I’m trying, Kento!” you snapped, the throbbing in your head making it hard to think straight. “Do you think I like feeling like this?”

He froze at your sharp tone but didn’t back down. “I’m only saying this because I care. You can’t keep running yourself into the ground.”

Your vision blurred as the pressure in your temples reached a breaking point. The last thing you saw was Nanami’s shocked expression before the world tilted and you crumpled to the floor.

“Y/N!” His usually calm voice was filled with panic as he rushed to your side. He knelt beside you, his hands trembling slightly as he checked your pulse and gently lifted you into his arms.

When you regained consciousness, he was sitting beside you, holding your hand tightly. “You scared me,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “I didn’t mean to push you. I just... I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his eyes soft with concern. “Rest. I’ll be here to take care of everything.”

[letorip]

helping tara through an asthma attack?

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

“as long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine”

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: after tara’s date ghosts her at a party and tara forgets her inhaler, you help her through her asthma, and in the process reveal how much you really care for each other

warnings: angst at first but quickly turns to fluff, mentions of asthma, small medical crisis, confessions and kissing, for the most part, fluff

word count: 2.8k

A/N: a very adorable and small oneshot i got to write! thank you for the request, it was greatly appreciated and im sorry i only got to finish it now! i cut down a lot for time's sake but i did get it done, so sorry iff it's shorter, i left more irrelevant bits out

*also, i am english and know little to nothing about new york, but i did my best

===+++===

===+++===

She wasn’t doing a thing that you could see except sitting there on the stairs, leaning on the bannister, holding the universe together.

Parties were many things, but you had never considered them beautiful. Tara Carpenter was what made them beautiful. Grabbing you tightly by the hand and tugging you onto the dance floor despite your protests, brushing the hair from your clammy forehead when you had too much to drink, and, even now, frowning at the bottom of the staircase. That was beautiful. It was so beautiful that calling it a crush didn’t feel like enough.

She doesn’t see you until you clear your throat from the other end of the foyer, leaning on the doorframe. It’s almost empty, most people squeezing into the kitchen and living room on the other side of the house, and you can hear Jump Around muffled through the walls.

“Looking for me?” she asks, a grin forming. It’s infectious, but Tara’s an infectious person: anything she does, she makes you want to do it too.

You smile back. “Always,” you nod, shoving your hands into your pockets and crossing the room to set yourself down next to her. Neither of you say anything for a minute, watching the few people go by, Tara picking at her nail polish and fiddling with her cup.

"Is this (Y/n)-code for wanting to leave?” Tara says after a while, nudging you gently with her knee. You shrug. You’d do the right thing always when it came to Tara. No matter how much fun you had been having, her frown came first, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to lift it. Staying at the party longer would only keep reminding her how she had been let down again.

“It is getting kind of late," you murmur. She scoffs, shifting away from the railing and resting her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck.

"It's only 12.” You can feel the vibrations of her voice against your body, warm and human. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you leave while the party’s still young?”

“A kind one,” you snort. “I’ve got a bed calling my name.”

She hums, pretending to think on it for a second, and then nods. “Five more minutes.”

You say okay and sit back in silence, letting the background music wash over you both. The clinking of bottles and laughter from the other room is loud, but mostly, you can hear her breathing against you, slow.

Tara lifts her head from your shoulder, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he’s a no-show,” she mutters after another minute, staring down into her cup and biting her lip.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving her a sad smile and bumping her with your shoulder. “What an asshole.”

It lifts her a little bit for a momentary smile that flickers in your direction, but it falls away again. “He was a really nice asshole. Something about me ‘deserving more’ and seeing ‘the real’ me.”

You hum at the sincere line said before by all too many insincere people. Tara was always the real her, and it was part of what made her so… her. Even her attempts to hide her wounds only made them more visible. To suggest otherwise was to mean he hadn’t known her very well. “It was the guy from the karaoke bar, right?” you ask.

She nods, eyes looking a little misty. You remember him well— reeking of alcohol and jostling her shoulder harshly while they sang Copacabana off key and miraculously off beat. You hadn't liked him much then, though you never did when it came to who Tara had moved onto. You hated him now, for almost making her cry.

"I guess someone told him about the attacks," she mumbled. "He said he didn't 'want to be next.' Funny part is I don't either."

"He's just a knob," you say, shaking your head. Then, you remember a particularly special piece of information you had been holding onto for the few weeks she had been talking to him. You lean into her ear, smirking as you whisper. "Though from what I heard, he didn't have a particularly large one."

It finally manages to pull a giggle from her, and she smacks you on the leg with a brilliant smile, the one that always makes your heart beat a bit faster. "What a perverted thing to say," she chides, rolling her eyes, but she still so clearly finds it funny.

"Coming from you, that's super rich," you tease. "Your imagination's gonna get you a passport to hell one day."

She smacks you on the arm again. "Come on, we should get you home, you've clearly had too much."

"So all I've got to do to convince you it's time to leave is make dirty jokes?" you grin as she stands, turning to you with an outstretched hand. You take it, letting her pull you up from the staircase.

"Nope," she replies, popping the p. "I just think it's nice out tonight."

"Yeah right," you say, walking towards the mountain of coats, grabbing her pink puffer one from the pile and then your own heavy jacket. "It's cold as hell."

"To you, you big baby," Tara teases, ditching her cup on the nearby mantle. She still zips herself all the way up, shoving her hands into her pockets, until she looks down. "Shit."

You furrow your eyebrows, turning around from zipping up your own. "What?"

"My shoe's untied," she groans. "And I already zipped this damn thing up." You roll your eyes. She could easily unzip it and do it herself, but you know she doesn't want to.

"Just ask already, slick."

She's beaming at you again and you suck in a breath at the way her brown eyes always seem to twinkle, even in dim lights. "Tie it for me?" When you don't move, she clasps her hands together mockingly. "Please?"

"And we have a winner," you grin, bending down. She's wearing her beaten-up white Converse, and you tie it quickly, double-knotting the old, weathered laces. "Y'know, for the holidays, I'm getting you a new damn pair, these things have definitely seen better days—" you stop in your tracks when you look up. Tara's eyes are watching you with an odd expression you can't place, in a way you've never seen her look at you before. "What?" you ask.

As quickly as it flashes, Tara shoves it away, shaking her head. "Nothing, nothing." She herself seems surprised, blinking a few times as you stand back up. "We should go."

"Okay," you shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your pants. Tara leads the way out through the propped-open front door, right out into the cold. Tara lets out a cough, out into the air, and it turns to a condensation cloud in the cold.

New York is already icy, gearing up for winter, and the trees have shed their leaves to become small, barren branches. The house party wasn't that far from your flat or Tara's, which was part of why Sam was so okay with the both of you going. The only person more protective of Tara than you was Sam.

"So, how'd you find that out about him?" Tara asks, coughing, taking your arm in hers. She always said you were freakishly warm to the touch, but right now, it was probably a plus.

"I told you we have class together, right?"

Tara nods, her breath a little wheezy. "Yeah?"

"I talked to this girl, Ada, in that class, and she said it was true. I didn't ask how she knew, though, but she really laid into him for being an asshole."

"Hm," she hums. "And you didn't say anything about it?" You know she's teasing, but you shake your head.

"You seemed excited about him, and you can make your own choices. Plus, I didn't know if you'd really care, to be honest." She doesn't say anything back, but that weird look is back on her face, so you avert your own eyes, feeling a burning on your cheeks.

"Thanks," she whispers. "You always trust me more than Sam does."

The both of you walk about another block before Tara speaks again. "I'm hungry," she says, coughing into her hand.

"I've got food at mine?" you suggest, the cold night air tickling at the roof of your mouth as you speak. The tips of your ears are freezing, as is the back of your neck, and you shiver after a particularly harsh gust of wind. It's unforgiving, in that way, and the wind barrels down the tall streets, chilling people throughout the winter. Tara coughs again and you shoot her a look.

"This cold air is really messing me up," she says with an eye roll. "I'll be okay, let's just get home." You send her another wary glance but turn your attention back to the city. You and her pass a few high rises with people in the warm windows.

"Must be nice to be indoors right now," you grin. Tara smirks right back at you.

"Maybe we should've just stayed in and watched some movies."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, now who wants to take my suggestion?"

"Yeah, well, now I've got the bath calling for me," she says, unlinking your arms to adjust her jacket. "That and Love Is a Losing Game and the block button."

"Poor baby," you tease. "Must be nice having a bathtub."

"It is," she nods, still fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down a little. "I can have all the wine and bubble baths I want." She's still coughing, struggling through her words.

"Greedy," you laugh, walking on ahead. You get only a few steps before you notice Tara isn't following you.

"Hey, what—" When you turn around, you can see her eyes wide, and she wanders towards the curb, plopping herself down on the freezing pavement and clutching at her throat.

"Shit," you rush, quickly coming over and kneeling down in between her knees as she continues to cough. "Shit, shit, shit." Her eyes are wild as she struggles to breathe, and she grabs your hand tight, squeezing it sharp with her nails. "Tara, what's happening? Is this an attack?"

She only manages a small nod, coughing awfully and trying but failing to take in a wheezy breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, looking around for someone, anyone, but the street is deserted. "Where's your inhaler? Where is it?"

Tara's nails dig into the skin of your hand in between her coughing, drawing small crescent moons of blood. Her other hand goes to her jacket, lifting up the bulge over her chest that is her interior pocket. You nod, trying to unzip it, but for some reason, it's not coming down.

Her eyes are full of fear and the brimming of tears as she struggles to breathe, and you mess with the zipper, trying to pull it down in the cold. "God fucking dammit, it won't—" you try to explain, yanking on the damn thing, which continues not to budge. Her own fingers reach up to try and get at the zipper, but you beat her to it, harshly ripping it open.

Her medicine bag falls right out, and you open it, dumping everything out onto the pavement and picking up her small blue inhaler. She sends you that weird look again as you shake it for a few seconds, handing it over. She takes a wheezy breath out and places the inhaler over her lips as she shuts her eyes, breathing in as deep as she can. You wait nervously as she holds it in her mouth, before finally letting out a much easier exhale.

Tears are pricking the corner of her eyes, and you raise a soft hand to gently brush them away with the pad of your thumb as relief washes over you. She's breathing and she's okay, and that's all you really care about.

Tara's hand finally drops its grip on yours, and though your hand is stinging in the places she drew blood, you pay it no mind. You turn your attention to her medicine bag, picking up the bottle and bandaids you dumped out as she waits and takes another puff. You don't say anything, just silently start picking up her things and putting them away, zipping up the bag.

When it's in order, you give her a gentle smile and put the bag back into her jacket, plopping yourself down next to her as you wait for her to let you know she's okay. After another puff and about another minute, her breath is slowed, and the fast beating of your heart begins to slow as well.

===+++===

Tara doesn't say much, staring out onto the street in total silence as she takes deep breaths in and out. You watch her with a worried expression, tensing every time she lets out a cough, but it's quickly pushed away as her lungs relax. Even after twenty minutes go by, you both remain there, sitting in silence, your eyes never leaving her face, except for the occasional passing car.

After long enough, she scoots a bit closer to you, letting her own eyes find yours. "That was scary," she whispers.

"Yeah," you nod. "Sorry about... well, your jacket. I think I might've broken the zipper. Guess I'll have to get you that for the holidays too—"

She raises her hand, brushing some hair back from your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment and then brushing themselves down your cheek. You freeze at the touch of her cold hands but do not pull away, feeling her trace your jaw and then lower, her hand stopping against you just below your collarbone, right above your heart. She's so close you can hear her breathing, feel her warmth and how it fans out across your cheeks.

"Tara—" you breathe, but before you can finish the sentence, which wouldn't have been particularly coherent anyway, she gently presses her lips against yours. It's soft and gentle, her lips slotting against your own in a perfect match. Before you can even process the divine sensation or try to give anything in return, she's pulling away, squeezing her eyes shut and apologising.

"Sorry, sorry, I must've gotten it wrong, I just, well...," she starts. Your mind is reeling at a thousand thoughts a second. "It's just that you're always there for me when no one else is, and I guess I—"

But this time, you're the one to cut her off. You lean forward, not even caring what else she has to say, instead kissing her back hard. She groans into it, her hands cupping your cheeks, holding you against her. It's magical, she's magical, and all those moments of wishing it was you she was kissing are gone because you are the one she's kissing.

Your hands slip around her waist, holding her against you as your lips move together in sync, the breeze gently moving against your skin. "I love you," she says against you, pulling you back in. It's softer than your hungry attack, but you cherish it more, letting her pull away and rest her forehead against yours. Once more, the cold is tickling at the newfound warmth you feel.

She pulls away from your lips but not from you. "I think I thought love was supposed to be this grand, tight battle. It's what my life was, some big battle. But not you. You're as easy and helpful as breathing. I love it about you that you love everyone else, too," she whispers. She reaches up placing a kiss upon your forehead. "Get it?" she laughs. "Breathing?"

"Too soon," you scoff, shaking your head. "I've loved you a long time, Tara," you reply, feeling your cheeks flush. "Through the assholes and the cowards and the people who wanted me. I've loved you. It might be chronic, I think I always will." You're so damn warm it's antithetical to the freezing chill that attempts to throw itself at you and Tara, only to be batted off by your hands upon each other.

She lets out a soft smile, putting her head back on your shoulder, only this time, it's your other one. "Maybe I should almost die more often if it means I get to have you."

You shake your head, leaning it against hers. "That's not funny," you scoff, and she rolls her eyes at you, gently prodding you in the side. "Besides," you smile. "You can have me any time now, you dork."

"That sounds nice," she hums against you. "But I still want pizza."

"Do you want to come back to mine? I think I have one in the freezer."

"Hm," she murmurs, then nuzzles deeper. "Five more minutes."

As easy as breathing, together.

===+++===

really struggled with the ending speech but i kind of liked not really having one? it's just kind of understood. no nice-guy 'it was me all along' or 'i'm sorry i didn't notice you sooner.'

[talon-dragonbeast]

Anglocentrism in alterhuman communities: ramblings of a Spanish-speaking dragon and a cat

[original in spanish here, though i have no doubt that this version will be disseminated more widely] • [original en español aquí, aunque tengo la certeza de que esta versión se difundirá más ampliamente]

this post was originally written as part of The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge. written by @talon-dragonbeast, with the help of my sibling @watcherwingedcat. we hope you like it!

word count: 2422

This writing, which is more of a rant with myself than a proper essay, is one I've been meaning to write for a long time; ever since I first joined an online community, to be more precise. Anglocentrism, according to Wikipedia (and yes, the irony of the article not being available in Spanish is not lost to me), is "the practice of viewing the world primarily through the lens of English or Anglo-American culture, language, and values, often marginalizing or disparaging non-English-speaking or non-Anglo perspectives."

If you are monolingual and your native language is English, chances are you have never stopped to think about the advantage this gives you over those of us who are not so fortunate as to be born with the lingua franca on our lips. Yes, you may have had to study some Spanish in school, but let's be honest, very few people remember what they learn in elementary school. As an English speaker, the whole world is built for you, and it's the rest of us who have to fit your mold. Culture, scientific articles, movies, books, video games, the internet, online communities, technical language, educational videos: even in the most international spaces, everything revolves around English. Which brings me to the subject of this writing: The Alterhuman community.

My name (as I am known on the internet, at least) is Talon. I've been a member of the alterhuman community, and more specifically, the otherkin community, for a little over a year now. Otherkin (a word that comes from other, in Spanish otros; and kin, shortened form of kind, in Spanish tipo) are people who identify as nonhuman in some way. For example, I identify as a dragon (among other things), and that's what I am, even if I look human on the outside and am perceived as such. There are many reasons why someone might believe they are not human, but I'm not here to discuss that, so let's get back to the topic at hand.

Since I've been in this community, I haven't written a single post in Spanish. And not for lack of desire, nor because I am intimidated to share something as personal as my mother tongue. No, the reason is simple: The community does not exist in any language other than English. By this I don't mean that there are no non-humans outside of England or the United States, because of course there are (even if they are on other platforms like TikTok or Instagram), and I'll talk about those later. But simply put, the reason you don't see many alterhuman communities in other languages is because all the resources, the introductions, the chronologies of the (English) alterhuman community, the definitions of the terms, the terms themselves, everything is in English.

I have always been bilingual. Well, trilingual actually, although my third language is not too relevant in my day to day life and I only use it in classes or when someone starts a conversation in the language. It's hard to explain how your brain works when you speak multiple languages fluently, but basically it's like running two parallel systems at the same time, but with thoughts. I don't usually think with words, but when I do it usually happens that some of my thoughts are in Spanish, and others in English, roughly in a 50/50 ratio. Or it can also happen that I start the thought in one language, but finish it in another. Or I may try to use a specific word in English that does not have an exact translation into Spanish, so that when translated literally the sentence does not make sense. Basically, everything I write or say out loud I have to run it through several filters first, one to remove the words from the other language, one to find the words to replace them with, and one to make the sentence make sense. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? It is. Now imagine if in order to express yourself as you really are, in order to participate in a community with beings who understand and accept you like no other, you had to basically suppress half of who you are, all the time.

The problem is not only not being able to use my native language to express myself. As I have demonstrated in the last year and a half that I have been in this community, I am fluent enough in English not only to be understood when I speak, but also to express such complicated concepts as the self, human nature, the psychology of being, and all that comes with existing as nonhuman. The real problem comes when I try to express relatively common alterhuman concepts in my native language. I'm not just talking about labels like otherkin or therianthrope, which can be adapted to Spanish with relative ease. It's the little things, the simplest things.

For example, the term shift. The word itself is already difficult to translate; during my searches, I found a glossary of terms on the Otherkin Hispano website in which they call them "desplazamientos", which... is an accurate translation, I guess, but impossible to use comfortably in everyday life. There are also terms whose definitions use expressions that simply cannot be translated into other languages. For example, otherkin and otherhearted. In English, the difference between these two terms is that otherkin means "[to] identify as" while otherhearted is "[to] identify with". But this is a purely English expression. In other languages, the distinction does not exist, or it makes no sense to use it; therefore, these terms are totally inaccessible to any international user. Or compound words like "catkin", which are difficult to express in other languages. According to Otherkin Hispano, in Spanish it would be said as is without translation, Soy catkin. But that... is not grammatically correct, since it would be mixing two languages in the same sentence. The most appropriate would be to say Soy gatokin, which sounds wrong and doesn't make sense anyway, because kin is still an English word. Or "hearttype", which in Spanish could be roughly translated as "tipo del corazón" (kind of [the] heart). When saying that you have a specific hearttype, for example "corvidhearted", one way of expressing it could be a simple Soy corvidhearted, which carries the same problems as catkin. Or you could, as Wikipedia advises, say Soy corazón de córvido ("I am heart of corvid"). I don't dislike it, to be honest, but some might find it too metaphorical or poetic.

Finally, and before reaching the conclusion, I want to dedicate a few paragraphs to talk about the alterhuman community that exists in other languages. I mentioned before these communities; that although they do exist, they are very scattered through platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, with which I am not so familiar. But since I can't talk about Anglocentrism without at least talking about the Spanish-speaking alterhuman community, I asked my sibling Watcher @watcherwingedcat what it thought about the topic. This is what they wrote:

Hi guys, I'm Watcher, and I'm here to talk a bit about the Spanish-speaking therian community, which I think is the pristine example of the hate we receive both from people outside the community and from those inside, both Spanish and South American. While this post focused more on the language barriers, I want to focus on the real consequences of this barrier, how it divides us in the way we interact with each other: The social part of this whole thing (as I already said some other time or another and some of my followers know, I am studying Social Education, so from my point of view the social part is very relevant for everything we do). As my sister already said (hi Talon!), the English community is the majority in alterhuman spaces, but, what is the Spanish-speaking community really like?

Not very large, is the answer. The term itself is not very widespread, and the community is quite small. However, after a while of searching, I found it in a little corner of the internet. When I found a community in my own language, I was excited, but my curiosity and joy were soon extinguished... When I saw the reactions to their videos and posts on tiktok mainly. They were packed with hate messages. Packed. If you think hate in the English community is bad, you are not prepared for the hate received in other communities, especially the Spanish one. This is more a matter of culture, a little bit also due to the closed mindedness in countries like Spain, Argentina, or Colombia.

In general, the non-humans of the Spanish-speaking community mostly post about quadrobics and masks. At least, I haven't seen much beyond that, and the community is mostly in tiktok. And the reception of their expression of way of being? Disgusting. To give an example of how bad the hate is, in one of the videos I found (I think it was a therian making a mask or something), humans and non-humans were insulting the therian posting the video, discussions about how we are crazy and sick in the head and should be in mental institutions... It was horrible. The worst were the death threats, even, wishing the therian to die, or hang themselves, or worse (I've even seen rape threats). Comments that said things like, "If my sister told me she was a dog I would take her clothes off and force her to sleep outside and eat animal food, if she wants to be a dog I will treat her like one." Threats of abuse, both physical and sexual... Absolutely disgusting. And the worst thing is that the tiktok platform did not remove these hate accounts, the copy and paste messages of insults, the threats....

I am proud of the Hispanic community for being so open about their identity, don't get me wrong, but there are times when it is safer to just not share that part of who we are with others, especially if you are a minor and vulnerable. That's another issue that concerns me, as I've seen people coming out to parents, siblings, friends, and them just belittling them. That, coupled with misinformation, is a recipe for disaster.

I couldn't help but notice the deep root of misinformation in the non-human community itself. They confuse definitions, the different terms, which leads them to spread even more misinformation. This I don't think is entirely their fault, or that they are so young for the most part, as I have not seen Hispanic therians over the age of 18. I think this is largely due (as Talon already mentioned) to the language difference, and the lack of translation of certain terms. In general, when talking to friends with whom I am open about my non-humanity, I use English terms. It is a little weird to use those words in English while speaking in Spanish, but I am bilingual and for now there is no solution to that. I think the Spanish community would benefit from spreading correct information, and having a platform to express themselves with their own, like tumblr is for the English community. Something my sister expands on in dreir post. As for me here I finish my little comment, I'll leave you with Talon now. Watcher out.

As a conclusion, I would like to talk about the consequences that Anglocentrism might have on non-English speaking alterhumans, and then propose some ideas on how we might begin to address (or at least mitigate) it as a community.

First of all it is the obvious; the vast majority of non-English speaking alterhumans simply never realize that they are alterhumans in the first place, on account of the language barrier. All of the resources for beings who are questioning their humanity or lack thereof are in English, so they are not accessible to people who don't understand the language; therefore, a non-English speaker would have a much harder time accessing them. Another consequence is not being able to express your alterhumanity fully, both internally and externally. Remember when I mentioned that my thoughts are evenly distributed between English and Spanish, always keeping a 50/50 ratio? Well, recently, I have noticed that when reflecting on my identity as a dragon, all my thoughts are automatically generated in English. I find this deeply shocking, as I feel that a fundamental part of my identity is being eroded. It is devastating to feel that you can only express half of who you are, suppressing what could otherwise be a complex and multifaceted identity. Not being able to express myself in my other language limits my ability to explore that part of myself.

Anglocentrism is a cycle that never ends; since all the resources are in English, no members in other languages can join, and since there are no members in other languages, all the resources that are created are in English. And while I wish I could say that I have a solution to end this Anglocentrism once and for all, unfortunately, I do not. I am only one person (dragon), and this is a problem that I alone cannot solve. True, there have been some commendable attempts by the international community (translations of writings, alterhuman blogs in languages other than English, the Eurokin server on Discord are some examples); however, these initiatives often don't often get very far because of the very nature of the community. As I have already said, most of the alterhumans are North American or English, therefore any attempt to globalize the community would be restricted by the fact that there are not many members who would be interested in this in the first place. So what can we do to change this? The answer lies in you, reader. If you have a second language, encourage yourself to create writings in it from time to time. If you come from a culture other than the mainstream, talk about how that affects your identity. If you have traditions specific to your country that you believe are alterhuman in nature, share them. And if you are part of the English-speaking majority, I invite you to contribute in a positive way through simple actions, such as listening to us when we express ourselves in other languages, recognizing that we do not all share the same culture, and keeping an open mind when discussing topics that may be unfamiliar to you. Our strength as a community lies in the diversity of our members; let's embrace it.

[bots-and-cons]

University complaining, feat Ratchet

A/N: I’ve got a lot of school stuff going on right now and for the next two weeks, but I wanted to post something, so you can read about the reader complaining to Ratchet about how uni sucks

“Hey Ratch?” you called from the couch.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to look at you, instead of his computer screen.

“Do you want to write my last two essays for me? I’ve done so many assignments in the last month that I feel like if I write one more word, I’m gonna explode” you groaned.

“I would like to help you, but I’m not really knowledgeable about your area of study. Besides, you’re the one who’s supposed to be learning the things you need in order to write those essays” Ratchet stated.

“I know, I know, but you can’t fault me for trying. The end of the semester is always super busy and I’m getting annoyed with the amount of exams and assignments” you sighed tiredly.

“You need to remember to rest too. You should take a break”

“I can’t, I have an exam tomorrow, and I need to finish this book for it” you said, raising your tablet you had the ebook on.

“You can take a half an hour break, it’s the late afternoon and you’ve been reading since you got here in the morning. You won’t retain information as well when you’re getting tired"

"I’m not even that tired, I’m more annoyed, and hungry, and my eyes kind of hurt…” you trailed off. “I see your point”

“Good, then you’re going to take a break?” Ratchet inquired.

“On one condition. You’re going to take a break too, you’ve been working since before I even came here, so you definitely need one” you noted.

Ratchet knew you had a hard time taking breaks, and you wanted to just push through it when you had to do something. So he always conceded when you made him take a break too, since that got you to take one too. You also sometimes seemed to forget that you needed to eat and drink. Or that you shouldn’t stare at screens for so long continuously.

“Fine” he rolled his optics.

“Good, now that we’re in agreement, can you take me to get some food? I’m starving”

“Of course” Ratchet smiled.

“Ah, that smile’s gonna keep me going for the rest of the day” you smirked. “And the food is gonna help with that too”

Ratchet rolled his optics with a scoff, but you could see his smile widening. The old bot wasn’t nearly as grumpy as you had thought when you’d first met him. It had been a couple of years since you and the autobots first crossed paths, but it felt like that time had gone by in the blink of an eye. You were finishing your second full year of university, and the decepticon’s activity had been on the quieter side for a few weeks now. You hoped that it would continue that way, because you would still rather be writing essays than trying to dodge decepticons. Getting to spend time with Ratchet was a bonus for hanging around the base. It was also easier for you to get your assignments done, when you had company. You could both just work on your own stuff, while still being together. It was nice. You just hoped the peaceful quiet would continue.

[elegantgardenrunaway]

If it's with you

Curly (mouthwashing) x reader

A/N: AAAAAAH FINALLY I FINISHED IT. Sorry for the delay, to be honest it was quite challenging for me to write this one. I hope I did Curly good enough for you.

This is the second (and last) part of this. But if you want to keep with the fluff then I would recommend skipping this.

Warnings: Jimmy (ofc), violence, mild gore(?), death, no happy ending (sorry guys not really), very hinted about what happened with Anya, but not explicit.

And bad grammar, probably. Sorry, English is not my first language.

He wishes he had kept his mouth shut.

Just for a day or two more, so at least the decorations wouldn't have been put to waste.

Such a birthday celebration. They must have put a lot of effort into it and he had to go and ruin everything.

Their reactions are still burning in his mind, like burning coal scorching his brain; Anya's worried voice, Swansea sarcastic remarks, Daisuke’s silence, Jimmy's accusations, your blank expression looking at the plate while you gripped the fork with white knuckles. No matter what, they are always there.

He sighs heavily, he needs to get to work soon.

He doesn't know how he will face the others now.

Yet he doesn't move, doesn't even hear that someone has entered the lounge. He later hears the shuffle of the couch as someone sits besides. He doesn't bother to look up nor start a conversation, too drained to give an explanation or even a half joke to break the ice.

They stand up again. He thinks they are going to leave him alone.

Then he hears the radio being turned on, followed by the sound of music, banishing the silence in the air.

He turns up, surprised and confused, finding you walking back to him with a nervous smile on your face.

For some reason, he's relieved that you are not Jimmy.

I mean, he definitely wouldn't do something like this.

You took his hands, lightly pulling him up. His hands had brushed against yours more than one time, on accident that is, due to your jobs or as a playful row during game nights. Now he realizes how warm and comforting your hands are to the point he hardly notices that he went up on his own, following you.

“Do you like to dance, Captain?” Your voice takes him out of his trance.

He blinks “... What?”

“... Um… Do you… do you like to dance? We can dance if you want. It's still your birthday party and it shouldn't end like this. Please, at least one dance”

He looked at them, dance… Dance? In a moment like this?

“We still have work to do,” he said, trying to give an excuse to get out of this.

���To hell with work,” you responded as you guided him “Forget the work, the company, everything. Tomorrow we'll drown. Today? Today we dance”

… That doesn't sound so bad.

He looks at your eyes. They hold such determination even if you look nervous. Your hands, your hands were holding him, he felt grounded. He repeated your words in his mind:

Today we dance. Ha, he isn't very good at it. He doesn't dance a lot, never had the time in a work like this.

He didn't refuse your proposal, didn't have the heart to tell you no, but he warned you about his lack of skill on the dance floor.

You laughed, he didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or offended or both, but your later reassurance lifted a weight from his shoulders. Soon he's holding you in his arms, bodies close, his head resting on you as you sway with the melody. His body is relaxed and the worries about the future are temporarily forgotten from his mind.

You don't judge him nor think less of him. Instead, you go at his pace and encourage him to try something different, something new, even if he's not really good at it, he can still learn.

Especially if it's with you.

Time seemed to disappear for both of you. A song became two, became three, became four until you had to let each other go, you had to go back to work.

But he didn’t want to do that. He wished he could stay with you, just a little bit longer.

But when you accepted that the time was up, you agreed to meet again for your next class the following day in the morning before work.

He was the first one to arrive. Entering the lounge way before your agreement. The holographic screen still shows the night sky. He didn't sleep, he couldn't. His friend has been giving him the cold shoulder and the rest of his crew is still shaken up from the news. Even though you tried to hide it, he still noticed.

And then, there is him. With a good reference secured. Which is good, but then again he still needs to figure out what he wants to do once he steps down for good.

What was life before the Tulpar? Who was Curly before the captain?

“Good morning” you yawned, trying to fix your appearance and open your eyes a little bit more “I see you're early, how long have you been here?”

“Uh?” He quickly turned upon hearing you, looking at you for a few seconds with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, he knew you were giving up some of the few hours of sleep you had in favor of this and he appreciates that. If the coffee machine wasn't empty, he would've made some for you.

“Oh, no… I just arrived, you have nothing to worry about” he lied and walked to your side “Thank you for doing this”

“Uh, don't mention it” you mumbled, yawning once more.

“Can I offer you something? Well, anything that is not coffee that is…”

“Heh, I'm alright, don't worry about it. Shall we start?”

How fast can someone get interested in another person?

Not to say he didn't pay attention to you before. It's just that now he does it in a different way, another eyes, another heart.

Suddenly he sees your expression when you smile, the wrinkles on your face when you laugh at Daisuke's bad jokes or the sudden energy boost you get with him and Anya, ; the way you listen to Swansea's rants or roll your eyes at Jimmy. Which he doesn't really like.

For six days you had taught Curly the basics of dance.

For six mornings Curly had felt excitement of waiting for a new day. He wanted to learn about dancing, learn about you.

And then …

System Failure

System Failure

System Failure

"…"

He wished he wasn't so stupid. That he was a better man and stopped Jimmy, gave him a better punishment for his actions. But then again, his options weren't very promising, especially if it involved everyone's last pay.

But maybe he's just making excuses.

He wants to scream, to apologize, to Anya, to Swansea, Daisuke and you.

Maybe he wasn't the one who set up the ship towards the asteroid, but practically served the option for Jimmy in a silver plate. So it was the same, at least in his mind, as if he was the one in the seat.

It kills him, it kills him to be a prisoner in his own, decaying body that refused to die or at least that the other refused to let die. He now has to depend on Anya —as if things weren't nightmarish enough — to even breathe properly.

You started to help Anya a little bit after he got stabilized. Seeing how she was struggling with him, you wanted to relieve some of the burden from her shoulders. The first thing you did was try to give him his pills. He will never forget the look on your eyes, the shine of betrayal and uncertainty, you seemed to be observing a bizarre creature, a monster.

That made him feel he was burning all over again.

And despite that, you did it again. You continued to give him his pills and learn from Anya how to take care of him the best you could with the little equipment you had, the fearful and horrified expression you desperately tried to conceal for his sake turned to a resigned, yet kind one. You get used to the bandages, the smell of burned fresh he still emits and soon replace Anya on the duty of giving him his pills, giving the woman a little peace of mind.

You talk to him, more often than not, you tell him about your day, the plans to have to ensure your survival, what would you do once you get back to earth, the ideas you have to get another job and one of two comments about redoing the dance lessons once he recovers from his injuries, though clarifying that it was only if he was interested. As if you would survive this.

For him, that was what was keeping him alive. He could only dream of that future you were telling him, the things you were telling yourself to give both of you hope, to desperately keep the shine in your eyes to keep shining.

Though that could only work for so long. Especially after you and the rest of the remaining crew discovered the contents of the cargo.

Mouthwash.

So that's what he was dedicating his own life for, the reason he was climbing ladders for…

He couldn't help but let out a pained chuckle, surprising you, making you look as if he just performed a miracle.

Well, he supposes that if is his suffering all it takes to impress you, then he'll gladly give it to you. Anything that could give you some hope.

Things started spiraling, you had told him and sometimes he could even hear it from his spot in the infirmary. How Swansea broke his sobriety after all these years, how Daisuke started to drink too, how Anya and you tried to keep the situation at float, but what he was most scared of was how Jimmy seemed to start to act more… aggressive. If that was even possible. He was more demanding, more prone to outburst and you and him had had rows more often.

He would be lying if he was afraid that he would do something to you. You, who still tries to hold some hope and share it with him. You are a balm that manages to soothe at least some of the despair that crushes his chest and the electric torture his own muscles give him.

He promises himself, that if you two get out of here alive and manages to at least become a somewhat functional living being, even if it meant having some kind of shitty prosthetics, even if he had to learn to walk again, he would take you to a nice place, get you some nice clothes and dance with you all night.

Yes, yes he would. And for that, he needs to keep himself alive. To take responsibility for what happened, to have a life with you.

Then suddenly, one day you came, with a look of shock. You didn't say too much that day, only a few words.

“I know... I-I know what he did”

And you didn't need to say anything else.

And you stopped talking to him for what felt like an eternity. It was a week and a half, but with the silence of the room and Anya and Jimmy being the only ones coming here, it was torture for him.

He never thought he would feel more relieved when you started talking to him again. He cried, it hurted, it hurted like hell. You shushed him gently.

But you never talked about the future again. Sometimes you still didn't talk at all, the shine in your eyes replaced by a resignation that gave him chills.

And then, everything fell apart the moment Anya locked herself in the nursery, asking if you could look after Daisuke to make sure he was doing okay, she could give him his medicines, assuring you that she was capable and that you didn't need to worry about it.

She didn't give him his medicines.

Instead, he was forced to witness how she twitched and withered on the floor until her body no longer moved.

He heard Daisuke's screams before he appeared from that vent. The young boy saw Anya, eyes glossy and horrified and tried to beg for her to talk, hoping that she was still somewhat alive, to tell him everything would be okay. And between guilty sobs, he mentioned Jimmy's name and that you were gravely injured too.

His heart stopped at that moment.

What happened to you? What did he do? Are you okay? Will you make it? Or is it too late for you too?

It couldn't be, it couldn't.

Then everything seemed to happen in a blur, he barely remembers what came next. Jimmy and Swansea were in the infirmary, the latter betaring the first one for his foolishness, for what he did to you and Daisuke. When they inevitably found nothing that would help them, they left. An hour or so later, Daisuke's screams echoed through the hall. The door was upon, but the position they were on didn't allow him to see much. But he did see how Swansea held the ax above Daisuke. Then, Daisuke's breathing stopped echoing in the halls, then Jimmy came and grabbed the gun….

The fucking gun that was under him all along.

The gun Anya hid because she was afraid of him. And he couldn't understand why at that time.

And now that he does, he can't help but laugh, as strong as his body allows him. He can't do anything anymore, he's fucking useless, he can't do a damn thing. He can't be a good captain, a good friend.

A fucking decent human being in general.

Then there came the struggling, the echo of the gunshots.

He knew he was next.

He thought he was next.

He wished he was next.

How? How could he not see the type of creature that it was Jimmy?

His crew, what once was his crew, their bodies, crudely slumped against the chairs around the table. A party, for the death and the damned, a judgment for the two sinners left in this godforsaken coffin.

Your body was on the left, next to Anya's corpse. The way blood seeped from your face told a horrifying story of your last moments on this world, at the mercy of the monster that now held him. How he wished he could have been there, to protect you, to protect all of them.

How he wished this was nothing but a nightmare, that he could wake up at any moment, go to the lounge and wait for you to appear in your groggy state, still having droll on your cheek and your uniform all messy. He would give you something to drink, maybe not coffee. The machine would always be empty.

But once again, his illusions were shattered with the piercing pain of the knife sawing his flesh.

He screamed, from the pain of his flesh being slayed and his bone being broken, from the sight of his crew rotting around a table, reduce as nothing put twisted puppets for Jimmy's entertainment, for the person he cherished and gave him a reason to keep going, the one who gave him a future, gave him bliss even if they were on the bottom of the deeps of hell and made him feel that his dreams were true, motionless in front of him, and he wasn't able to even say goodbye.

He wasn't even granted the mercy of death. The demon didn't allow it. His twisted conscience believed he could somehow redeem himself if he managed to keep him alive.

Even if it means feeding him his own leg.

Even if it means putting him in the last cryopod while the coward escaped by the least painful way.

He didn't even have the strength to curse him one last time.

As the cold ice burned his exposed flesh, he couldn't help but wonder if things could have been different somehow. If he had the strength to oppose Jimmy, to at the very least stop him from crashing the ship. Would it be different?

It probably doesn't matter anymore. Not when he is going to spend the next twenty years or so frozen in time. He doesn't want anyone to come, a captain must go down with the ship after all.

Death sounds better if you are waiting for him on the other side.

[lucentloo]

First Kiss

Summary: You’ve never truly thought the perfect first kissed existed after a drunken one night stand had stolen every innocence you have ever had, but Remus is here to prove what a first kiss should really be like.

Remus Lupin x Fem!reader

Wc: 1143

Content Warnings: Modern au, fem!reader, swearing, drunk sex (in the past, only mentioned not described fully), kissing, pinning, friends to lovers, Sirius and James are supportive, Lily as best friend, Peter here but not here, low standards, if I’ve missed any please let me know!

a/n: Hello lovely’s! This is Fic number three now and I can’t say my writings getting better but the more you interact the more confidence I get! I’m sorry it’s been a long time since my last Fic but life’s been hectic and I’m a slow writer so that’s on me. Either way I hope you enjoy this little Remus story today and have a wonderful weekend/week! Also not proof read so sorry for any mistakes!

When you were little you would imagine your first kiss as magical and romantic, something you would remember forever. Instead your innocence was tainted by a drunken night full of affectionless touches and meaningless words. Little you thought a prince would sweep you off your feet and steal the air from your lungs. And although the air was taken from you that night, it wasn’t quite as enjoyable as you thought.

After that one night you stopped expecting the love you read in your books or the touches you saw in the movies. Every relationship you indulged in only reinforced the obnoxiously low standards you had set for yourself. Your friends, more specifically Lily, encouraged you to find better men, to set a better standard, but you refused. You didn’t think you could find any better than you already have.

That was until you met Remus.

Him and his friends had opened a music store right next to your bookstore, and that helped boost both of your stores' activity. The boys invited you out to coffee to kinda get to know each other a bit more and you were immediately besotted with Remus. His calm nature, chocolate eyes, and even the scar on his upper lip that he got from a guy named Sniffilous, though you don't believe that that was his actual name. Remus was effortlessly kind and brilliant and knew when a joke had gone too far. He was unlike any guy you’ve met. 

You started hanging out with him more often than the rest of your friends and got extremely close. Close enough that people have begun to speculate that there was something more brewing between us. You desperately want there to be. Every time his hand grazes yours and when he whispers a joke in your ears so that only you can hear, you feel special. Like you’re worth something more than a quick fuck.

One Saturday when you were hanging out with Remus at your bookstore you asked him what his most embarrassing story was, just out of curiosity. 

Remus was fiddling with a pen when he answered. “I believe my most embarrassing story was when I believed a story my mother once told me all the way until I was fourteen.” He says quietly, not trying to break the comfortable silence around us. 

You lean forwards on your elbows that were situated on your desk. You were previously rifling through documents and files trying to find the book you were missing. “What was the story?” You ask, genuinely intrigued.

Remus hummed and rose to stand next to me and sit on my desk. “My mother once believed that there was a magical world, full of wizards and witches, and they had a whole society. She made me believe that one day I would get accepted into a school for the young witches and wizards and that I would learn every spell in the book. I only stopped believing that when I thought a teacher was a disguised troll and I got sent home. I still cringe thinking about those ten years of my life.” When Remus finishes with the story he scrunches his perfectly adorable nose so cutely that you give a little giggle. 

“Now you.” Remus gestures to me with his head.

“Me?” You ask confused.  

“Yeah, you,” He says again, “what’s your most embarrassing story?” He asks it in such an innocently mischievous way that you can’t help but chuckle and think about it. 

“I think my most embarrassing story would be my first kiss.” You blush as you answer, immediately regretting even mentioning it. However, you see the curiosity in his eyes and continue. “I was drunk and some guy who I was talking to that night brought me back to his apartment. I don’t think I have to say much more than that.” You are hard core blushing now and look back at your files. 

Remus however is looking your way with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. He hops off the desk and stands in front of you. “You're telling me that your first kiss was a drunken one night stand? That’s it?” He asks. You nod hesitantly, wondering why he looks so distraught.

“Oh baby,” He said softly and you felt your heart pick up its pace, his proximity suddenly making your knees weak. “That does not count as a first kiss.”

You look up  into his eyes that now burn with a small desire and start protesting. “But a first kiss is when you have your kiss for the first time, and I did. That counts as my first kiss-” Your cut off by soft lips gently pushing against yours. Your eyes widen in shock before a steady hand cups your cheek and you melt into the kiss. It wasn’t a quick in and out but it also wasn’t a long, heavy makeout sesh. Just a soft kiss on the lips and Remus was pulling away.

“That is a first kiss. It’s loving and soft and it was one you were fully aware of.” Remus cups the back of your neck and pulls it forwards to rest our foreheads together. “Your first kiss isn;t your first kiss until you say it is.” Remus speaks so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

You smile slightly and lean in close again, your lips making contact with his once more. This time it goes on a little longer to the point where you grip his shoulders begging for more, noises escape your lips without your permission, and when you’re finally finished you pull away gasping for air. 

Remus has a beautiful smile on his face as he looks at you. He bends his head down enough to whisper in your ear. “I really like kissing you.” You giggle and bury your face into his chest. In the distance you hear cheers and clapping and as you lift your face you see two of Remus’ close friends, James and Sirius, appearing from behind the bookcases. Your cheeks burn a deep red as you hide your face into Remus’ chest once again. 

“How long have you two been here?” Remus asks with a small sigh.

Sirius laughs and pats him on the back. “Just long enough to see the show Moons, and quite the show it was!” He teases. James elbows him in the ribs but his smile is a carbon copy of Sirius’.

As the boys divulge into endless bickering and attempt  to embarrass your poor Remus even more, you bury yourself fully into his arms. You wonder what this will mean for the future. For your relationship, and although in any other scenario you would have been nervous all you can feel is excitement. 

You thought that this would be a very good first kiss to remember.

[childrenofcain-if]

Hello beautiful Author!! I hope u are doing well! So basically I am a religious follower of your blog and uuugghh!!! This story is so beautifully crafted like the script the writing style the plot even the characters seem larger than life. Honestly u have my tremendous respect and admiration.... Also I am totally in love with cedric!! angsty adorable and hot. So since today is my birthday I decided to treat myself to a snippet ... Can u please write a fluff scene where in the future after marriage yk after C achieved his dream how would M!C react to find out that F!MC is pregnant. What kind of dad would he be and how would he handle the news especially if it's a girl. (PS: I love you okay? U rock!!! ❤❤😘)

the morning started like most mornings did in your household. the sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your manhattan penthouse, muted by the heavy curtains cédric insisted on keeping drawn just enough to keep the room from feeling exposed.

he was already in the kitchen when you woke up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he frowned at his ipad.

it was a weekday, which meant cédric was doing what cédric did best: handling things.

the man could command a room full of board members or negotiate a multi-billion-dollar deal, but he always took his mornings slow, like it was his personal rebellion against the world which demanded his attention. the smell of coffee hung thick in the air, and you could hear him muttering under his breath—half in french, half in english—as he skimmed over some report.

he looked up when he heard your footsteps. the cold glint in his pale green eyes softened the way they always did when he saw you.

“good morning, mon amour,” he said, setting the ipad down as if the numbers and charts weren’t important anymore.

you smiled at him, but there was a nervous flutter in your chest that didn’t quite dissipate.

“good morning,” you greeted back, making your way to the counter. “we need to talk.”

his brow furrowed, just slightly, in that way that meant his mind was already cataloging possible scenarios. you wondered if he was running through a mental checklist: a problem at work, an overdue bill, a delayed package. he was always looking for answers before you even finished your question.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and calm, but his hand twitched where it rested on the counter.

you hesitated, suddenly unsure how to say it. for someone who had spent years speaking in boardrooms and drafting persuasive arguments, the words felt clumsy in your throat.

“there’s nothing wrong, per se,” you began, and you saw the tension in his shoulders ease—just a fraction. “it’s just... i’m pregnant.”

the silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. it was like the air had stilled, waiting for his reaction.

cédric blinked. once, twice. then he stepped back, leaning against the counter as if the weight of your words had hit him square in the chest. his mouth opened, then closed again. he looked—if you hadn’t known him better—younger. like a boy caught off guard, unsure of whether he was allowed to feel what he was feeling.

“you’re...?” he started, and then he stopped himself. his hand went to his hair, brushing the dark brown strands back, a nervous habit he’d never managed to shake. “you’re sure?”

you nodded, suddenly shy. “i took three tests. all positive. i was going to wait until we were both home later tonight, but—”

“no, no, now is perfect,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended, like he was scolding you for even considering keeping it from him. he shook his head, and you could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “mon dieu.”

cédric laughed then, a sound so rare and so unguarded it made your chest ache. it was a laugh of disbelief, of joy, of sheer and unrestrained emotion. he crossed the kitchen in two long strides and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could feel his heart pounding against your ribs.

“je t’aime,” he murmured into your hair. “je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime.”

you clung to him, laughing through the tears that had started spilling down your cheeks.

***

cédric’s reaction to the pregnancy didn’t end that morning. over the next few weeks, he threw himself into preparing for the baby with the same intensity he brought to his work. he was meticulous, obsessive even, researching everything from cribs to car seats. he vetoed three potential pediatricians before you’d even had a chance to meet them, insisting that only the best would do.

but it wasn’t just about the logistics. cédric was unexpectedly tender, in a way that made your heart twist. he read parenting books in bed at night, one hand on your growing belly as he absently stroked his thumb over the fabric of your pajamas. he brought you tea without being asked, stocked the pantry with your favorite snacks, and refused to let you carry anything heavier than a shopping bag.

when you found out the baby was a girl, it felt like the world completely shifted for him.

“it’s a girl,” you had informed him, holding the ultrasound picture out to him.

he took it from your hands carefully, as if it were made of glass, and stared at it for a long moment. his expression was unreadable, but you could see the way his fingers trembled, just slightly.

“a daughter,” he said, the words thick in his throat. “our daughter.”

you nodded with a small smile, watching him carefully. “how do you feel about that?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he set the picture down on the table and turned to you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made you shiver.

“i’m going to protect her,” cédric said, his voice low and fierce. “from everything. from everyone. she’ll never have to wonder if she’s loved. she’ll never have to fight for what’s hers.”

“i can already see it,” you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. “you’ll be the dad who scares off all her partners.”

“damn right i will,” he said, his smile returning. “she’s going to know her worth. and if anyone tries to undermine that—” he didn’t finish the sentence, but the murderous look in his eyes said enough.

you leaned forward, cupping his cheek and drawing him back to you. “she’ll know her worth because of you,” you said softly. “because of how much you’ll love her.”

“and her mother,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

he kissed you then, slow and lingering, and when he pulled back, his hands settled gently over your stomach.

you reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “she’s going to be so lucky to have you.”

cédric shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “no,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to your belly. “i’m the lucky one.”

***

as the months went on, cédric proved himself to be everything you’d hoped for and more. he was attentive to a fault, sometimes to the point of driving you mad with his insistence on helping you. ehen the baby kicked for the first time, he was right there, his hand pressed against your stomach, his eyes wide with wonder.

when your due date finally arrived, he was the calmest one in the delivery room. he held your hand through every contraction (even when you almost broke his bones), whispered words of encouragement in your ear, and refused to leave your side, even when the nurses told him to give you space.

and when your daughter was finally born, cédric was the first to hold her, much to your father’s exasperation. he cradled her tiny, wrinkled body in his arms, his expression soft and awestruck.

“she’s perfect,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

you smiled, exhausted but deliriously happy. “she has your eyes.”

“and a head full of your hair,” he said, his voice breaking.

in that moment, you knew without a doubt that he would be the kind of father who would move mountains for his daughter. he would be firm but fair, protective but not overbearing, and endlessly devoted to her happiness.

as he rocked her gently, humming a lullaby under his breath, you realized that this—your little family—was everything you’d ever wanted. and as much as you knew about how cédric wasn’t very good at expressing his emotions, it was clear as day right now that nothing would ever compare to the love he had for the two of you.

[puck-luck]

congratulations on 1k!!!! you deserve it:) i am wondering if i can request 7 of diamonds w matt rempe? but if you don’t want to write for him quinners is just fine ☺️ maybe like him trying to persuade you not to go out with your girlfriends that night

i don't normally write for matt, but i had already written this prompt for quinn, so i didn't want to completely nix your request! i did what i could! i don't fw matt rempe that way, but i hope this was fine <3

warnings: no actual p in v, but matt is trying REAL hard to make it happen. over the clothes touching, a lot of sensual kisses, persuasion (begging?) from matt

wc: 592

“You have to go?” Matt groans, following you into your bedroom. You’d just finished touching up your hair for girl’s night, so now you have to do your makeup.

“You sound like Barron Trump,” you tell him. “‘I have to go to school now? Now I have to go to school?’” 

“Hardy har,” Matt says with a sarcastic and low laugh. He sticks his tongue out at you, standing behind you when you sit down at your vanity and putting his hands on your shoulders. “I can’t believe Alley got you hooked on that TikTok sound. It’s not that funny.”

“I like it,” you reply with a shrug as Matt starts to massage the area where his hands rest. “It is the only light in the darkness, Matty.”

“What time do you have to be there?” Matt asks, watching your face in the mirror. 

“Speaking of your sister, she’s picking me up in an hour.” You rub primer into your skin, the first step of your routine. Since it’s just Alley and a few of your friends that you’ve known forever, you don’t plan on going full glam today. You’ll probably just do some foundation, concealer, eye makeup, and your lips. 

“An hour?” Matt asks. “You’ve got so much time! Come lay down with me, c’mon. Please,” he drawls out, pouting at you and batting his eyelashes. “Alley won’t mind if you’re a little late.”

“I can’t always be late,” you admonish, frowning at Matt in the mirror. “That’s why I’m getting ready so early, M. So that I’m not late.”

Matt groans, exaggerated and long. “When you finish your makeup, will you come lay with me?”

You know that he’s going to keep asking, so you relent. “If I have time, I’ll come lay with you.”

Matt grins and kisses the back of your head, bending at the waist to do so. He’s so much taller than you when you’re sitting– it’s kind of hilarious. He goes to lay on the bed, sometimes scrolling on his phone and sometimes admiring you while you do your makeup. 

You finish with plenty of time, already wearing the outfit that you’d planned for tonight. You stand from the vanity and walk over to Matt, poking him on the thigh and telling him to scoot over. 

Matt does, then he rolls so that he’s halfway on top of you. He presses you into the mattress and breathes in your shampoo. He grabs his phone and lays his arm over your stomach, touching his forehead to your temple as he continues to scroll on Instagram. It isn’t long until he starts to kiss your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. His kisses get more and more wet as he moves south, finally pulling your shirt to the side and escalating to leaving a hickey on your skin.

“Matthew,” you scold, pulling him away from the juncture of your neck and shoulder by his hair. “What are you doing?”

He groans like he’s been found out, although his actions were anything but sneaky. “Let me give you a reason to stay in bed,” he persuades, sneaking his hand under your skirt and petting over your panties. “C’mon, Alley won’t mind.”

You fix him with an unimpressed look, but he’s smiling and still touching you. 

“You know you want to,” he teases. “And I’m headed on the road soon, we can’t waste any time.” He nibbles at your neck after that and you start to laugh.

“You’ll have plenty of time with me after girl’s night, Matt.”

[shuenkio]

LoserXLover | 희승 헨.하.이.픈. (⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ💨

Paring: Loser!seung X M!reader

Genre: Smut Synopsis: Being such a brat he is, you decided to punish your boyfriend in a very edgy way. Cw: pure smut, cum undone, edging, freaky af, cursing, dirty talk.

English is not my 1st | This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A$N: from an anon request! This is probably my last update this month since next month who knows I'd be busy but I won't accept any requests sooner. Btw 'but' using alot here, ignore it 🥲 I'm having a mental breakdowns trying to make it perfect I'm suck still at writing smau.

Finished schedule for today's promotion is a relief that everything went smoothly yet there's something that has bothered you lately which you have bottled up for sometimes now. Despite being a sub-leader in the big group full of older boys at a young age, it is half bad and half good. The good parts were already doing great the nice ones while the bad part is they're grown boys.

You'd question your own self that it is worth it? In a frustrated good way of course. Not only are all of them a ball of chaotic energy but they're also clingy, teasing, if they'll tease you, all you need was a punching bag sand to Express your annoying. However it gets used to it till it becomes a habit and sort of like everyday shit. And that's not the case for nowadays. Heeseung the oldest hyung is getting on your nerves lately.

One was he accidentally made a small mistake during the finish part today on stage yeah that's forgiven but still driving you nuts as a perfectionist you are. Two, at the dorm, Heeseung would leave his ramen bowl without washing, dishes soaked in the sink for days unless you point it out. It's one of the hell rides having the same floor and dorm with him.

Not to mention Ni-ki says nothing about this as if he is not in the same dorm. Three, the gamer boy is getting out of hand. The nagging, the yelling, the reminding is just an air that went from one ear to another gosh how difficult can he become more. He's not a damn teenager but a 23 year old guy. Did he do all of these on purpose or is it just so unbelievable that you thought this was some kind of joke? Only god knows.

By doing all of the voices won't make him flinch anymore you'd have to come with some other punishment to make him won't repeat all of the childish behavior anymore that could leave him a bit traumatized, for some time in a very good~ way. What if he might love the idea more? Only to find out. Burst in his personal room, leaning against the door way as you are staring at the lazy guy who is on the bed, scrolling on his phone as if he didn't have a busy schedule the next day. Closing the door behind, as you make you way closer before sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Heeseung hyung? We need to talk!" Murmur in a serious tone yet so calmly, request for talking. But in return he just hums in response, rooting to the core as if his body is stuck on the bed which makes you have to control yourself from being violence.

"please sit up, before I change my mind" is another demand yet this time he did as he was told. Sitting up, resting his head on the headboard.

"yes? M/n What do you want to talk about?"

"about your behavior, not to be disrespectful but this is not how I wanted you to act hyung!, you're 23 not a toddler" You claim, explain in as calm a way as possible. However, it seems like it won't work on him ever.

"I am the way I am m/n what are you... Talking about? I know I'm the oldest but I don't act like a child you say, don't just come up like that" Heeseung response, his tone is slightly offensive to your words but that makes him look even more stubborn. How can he even let those slip out. Anger boil almost explodes, trying to maintain your compose while explaining how many things about him that bother you a lot as a sub/co leader that left Heeseung dumbfounded.

But that won't last long when he just ignores the fact, carry on acting like a brat once you finish talking. This is getting out of hand, you force yourself to give him one last chance before a disaster would occur.

"what are you gonna do about me then? I'll like how I am right now, leave my room you're such a headache for me m/n, hyung need alone time" Scoff is all what left your sweet mouth, this is so irritated it's like telling a siblings to go bed time but they denying. What's more irritated? The fact he was your loser boyfriend makes it worse. Heeseung turned away and sat on his desk, opening his computer to play some games. Would you let that happen? Not this time. Stroking away your hair in boil pointed before locking the door tight, making your way to your boyfriend.

This might be the first time you've had to punish your brat lover. Seeing the sock scatter on the floor, you come up with an idea, if you can't punish him emotionally, how about physically? Smirking, like the idea so much. Before Heeseung could wear his headphones on, his gamer chair turned around by your grips. Slightly starlet the next thing he knows, both of his hands are tied up by his own socks. A very lovely sight to see such submissiveness. Yelping, confused running through his head to your new side, he can't help but to be afraid one bit, asked.

"m/n?? What are you doing? Untied me now, this is not funny.." speak in a shaky voice, as he sees your unusual attitude. Meanwhile deep down inside of him, he knows what's going to come for him. Somehow he liked it? Or he just pretends to drive you nuts so he could get this attention of yours?

"You're never gonna like it, and I won't stop until you reflect your own shitty behavior, hyung!" Waste no more time, your body lean close to him as your naughty finger sneaking on his crotch. Fiddle on his pants, around in a circling, teasing to make it rocket hard as you planning to make him so hard, so dry until he begged oh wait, why don't you make him edge? Those feelings are the worst haha.Heeseung squirmed under your touch, in a trembling breath. he was expecting this but This just feels so different, the idea of you would stroking him only to make his soft dick hurt from the tight fabric. And the fact he didn't stop you makes sense that he was waiting for this. Biting on his lower lip he stays quiet, silently enjoying your touch on his meat. He wanted to please you so badly, to make you touch him even more than this, not only to play but to make use of it.

Realized Heeseung is actually enjoying this, making you angry even more, he can't enjoy this, you need to make it hard for him to ever even feel good. In another one swift move, you unzip his pant, let it spring free out a twitching, huge hard throbbing dick that is leaking already. Such a good start,a clean cut tip free is so arousing to look at, and abuse it.

"p- please i... It kinda hurts you have to finish it m/n, y.. you're the one who started this" pleasing, his hand are tied up, it reasonable that he wanted you to finished it up as he leaking so much already ehh those transparent sticky stuff on his head.

"No, let me hear something else. Where is the brat gone hmm? I don't see any"

"but—m/n I'm not in the wrong, I'm just being myself everyday like how my routine, what do you expect from me?" He fired back, getting real pain in the ass . How brave he is to spit those out. Snort out loudly that click heeseung in the head that, he did it for himself just now, he'll be in big trouble.

"you're getting brave for real now hyung I think I might pee myself from it, but I think hmm oh well, you seriously push my buttons" Before hee can react, you hand wrapped on his shaft tightly, stroking him so fast that makes his head spinning to the weirdly speed pace. He moaned shamelessly, filled in the small space with his vocal like he was on the edge to see heaven. His stretchy hairy balls jiggle each movement you jerk him off , making a raw plopping sound mixed with pain and pleasure without liquid. Your bf's chest becomes more hitching and breathless, he wanted to scream so bad in high pitch but he couldn't, afraid the other who was in the same dorm might hear.

He knows and you know he can't do anything but to beg for your mercy. Instead It's the opposite of what you expected, you thought you'd hear him begging, whining, for mercy to stop but he was actually asking for more, and he really wanted to release it off, so impatiently. Knowing his weak spot, what are you waiting for? Masturbating his dick harder, in another brutal speed that left his eye nothing but a white eyes ball. His brain malfunctioned, feeling senseless at the moment. A few more strokes later, Heeseung started to feel jolted as his body signal he'd cum at anytime unpredicted soon.

"H- holy motherfucking shit m/n— I...I'm about to cum please... please I wanted to cum c...can I?" Hearing him beg for mercy and being so submissive for the first time make your body goosebumps, thrilling wash over as you actually found him adorable in this state or did they call that a... Kink? A new discovery kink? No way, you need to see more of this. You want more whimpers from him, making him beg, and submissive ugh so fucking turn on.

Enough with the thinking, his body soon shaking in a sign of soon to explode and your plan was to edge him off, what would he react to if you did it? Isn't it going to be fun??

"Ah...ohh... Fuck m/n I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm CUMIN— NO" he yelled it out, to be come undone but before he can cum you quickly pull your hand away for a good seconds which make him going nut on the spot, finally his body shattered undone in a half satisfied, splashing all his hot sperms on his own sweatpants. His body odor perfume all over the room, the scent of his cum, smells like cow milk, that's crazy. And Nor did he be mad or sad, his expression is clearly he's not satisfied with your action. However at least he did cum.

"why... Why did you do that? For what for??M/N?"

"This is your first punishment, you should remember this from now on. If you continue to act so stubborn again, I bet there's more evil punishment for my loser boyfriend and not just edging you— do you get it?hm?"

"y...yes my.. love I'll be a good boy.. and your good boyfriend I...I'm sorry I'll be better" he was scared ...

"that's what I love about you— very demure very lovely very good boy"

[bigball-thefrog]

hey there! once again wishing you good luck on those exams! but i was wondering if maybe you could write something for law?

i was thinking maybe that Law and the reader had met awhile back on the readers island and she like saved him from something when he was a rookie. then obviously she joins his crew and stuff but then one day an incident happens that causes the reader to die and Law is devastated as the years go by

But here’s the twist!☝🏻The reader didn’t actually die but instead she survived and the Strawhats found her wondering around and took her in🙏🏻So know she’s a member of the strawhats, then Law meets her again in Punk Hazard.

The rest is up to you! I just kinda want it to be angsty and heartbreaking when Law meets the reader again like maybe I don’t know she fell for someone else…(if you can…can you make the reader nerdy bc i’m a nerd🧍🏻‍♀️)

Helloooo!!! I'm back and I've finished your request, I hope you like it. I know I said I'd post a few yesterday but I got tired. But I'll try and post than just this today because I've got quite a bit planned. But for now, enjoy more Law suffering

Warnings/Tags:

Female reader

Law can't be happy for a goddam minute before it all goes to shit

______________________________

Narrator POV

You lived a peaceful life in a small village by the sea. Nothing much ever happened until one day you were collecting seaweed when you saw a man about your age wash up on the beach with a polar bear. The Polar begged you for help and you took them both in.

When the man woke up, he thanked you and introduced himself as Law, a rookie pirate, and the Polar bear was his right hand man, Bepo. They stayed with you for awhile and grew kinda close, you knew a lot about botany which and medicine which was good for Law, to help him heal and to improve his skills as a doctor, you both also got along with your shared love the comic, Sora, Warrior of the Sea. When it was time for Law to leave, he invited you to come with, and he accepted, making you the botanist/herbalist of the heart pirates. You grew closer as the days went by, you knew that law was mostly closed off from showing much emotion but you were starting to break down that cold wall around his heart, getting closer than most, even starting to get almost, intimate, with him. But it didn't last long...

At the events of Sabaody, you and the rest of the crew were fighting against the Pacifistas and were struggling to get away, Law was distracted trying to save everyone he didn't even notice he was being aimed at. As it fired, you managed to push Law out the way, causing you to he blasted instead. You went flying from the blast and Law was too slow reach you. He wanted to run after you but he was quickly picked up by Bepo as he ran with him. He struggled but it was no point. Once the fight was over and the marines were gone, Law and the rest of the crew spent all of their time, searching for you and where you went, only leaving when the events of Marineford happened. But you were nowhere to be found... You were gone... Another person, close to Law.. Gone...

--------------------------------------------------

Two years later at Punk Hazzard, Law had just allied with the Strawhats and was following Luffy back to their current hideout so he could swap back the bodies of the crew he changed.

He walked in, first noticed the giant children, then the crew, then... You...? No, it couldn't be, you were dead, you were killed in Sabaody and Law couldn't find your body! How, how were you here?! Why were you here, why didn't you come back to him?! Law stood frozen and it was only when Nami shouted at him to change her back that he snapped out of his thoughts and changed them back, but right after he ignored everyone else and walked right up to you. "Oi..." He called out as he stood right in front of you. You looked up at him, confused but smiled, "Oh, hello. Are you a friend of Luffy's?" "Stop the act, you know who I am.." "No, I don't... Have we met before?" dammit, why were you acting like this?! Of course you two had met before! "Yeah, I'm your captain remember?" you shook your head, "No you're not, Luffy's my captain, I only just joined recently at Sabaody"

Sabaody?! How?? He searched every inch of that island for you!! "Cut the bullshit! You're not apart of the Strawhats! You're apart of my crew! You were a botanist/herbalist that helped me make medicine on my ship! The Polar Tang, remember?!" Law shouted out, you looked at him sympathetically, "I'm sorry but I don't remember... I don't remember much before waking up on Sabaody..." Law clenched his fists, you must've lost your memories when you got blasted by the Pacifistas... And now you don't remember him at all...

Defeated, Law just sat next to you, "Sorry, you just reminded me of an old friend... That I lost two years ago..." "Oh... I'm so sorry..." you frowned and moved a little closer to him, "It's fine... I just miss them a lot, and you look identical to them.." Law mumbled. You both went into a comfortable silence until Law decided to still check up on you despite you not remembering him, "So, how have the Strawhats been treating you?" He asked. He listened to you as you began rambling about all the stuff you've done with them already, you were still making medicine and growing your plants, you assisted Chopper now with the medical filed, but what hurt the most was when you mentioned that you had tarted growing feelings for Zoro. Now that was a punch in the gut, all the close, intimate, personal moments that you shared with Law, gone. Now all your feelings dedicated to the swordsman...

He went quiet again and when you noticed this and tried to apologize but he just looked away, how could he even look at you now that you remember nothing and he remembered everything... You were gone, the person he had grown to love, care for and let down his walls for, was gone... You looked genuinely upset, nit understanding what he was thinking or going through so you just looked down with a frown on your face. When Law glanced back and saw your frown his heart clenched. He hated seeing you frown and be hated being the reason for that frown even more. Maybe, this was for the best? Maybe you were better with the Strawhats, but dammit it hurt so much to think about you not being with him anymore.. But now with the alliance, he could see you for a little longer.. Maybe, he could get ode to you again and maybe something in you would snap and you'd remember... With a deep exhale he turned back to face you and spoke about the first thing you two bonded over, "So... You like Sora, Warrior of the Sea?"

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Alright, so for tonight, I've got a part 2 of I request I did, then I've just gotten a new request to do, then I'll be posting a poll with three of my ideas that I'll let you all pick the order of which I post them in. I'll see you all real soon.

Kelly🐸