#and thank you for requesting <3!! this was my first one so I was so happy haha | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starkeyvhs · 11 hours ago

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only you my girl, only you babe

PAIRING: rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader

SUMMARY: four times your “enemy” rafe hinted he cares for you and the one time you actually caught on it. OR you thought rafe doesn’t like you because he hates all pogues. little did you know he has always looked at you differently.

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

WARNINGS: drinking, drugs, swearing, blood and wounds, kinda canon rafe (omg kez????), obx cliches (mainly the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing from S1), extremely ‘only soft to you and no one else’ vibes, fluff, angry confessions, heavy pining, mentions of y/n

EDITH SPEAKS: oh. my. god. if you were there on my old blog you would know how long it’s been since I first introduced my idea of writing this fic. I got stumped on it way too often and then forgot about it for months, and then decided to abandon it. But I found it again and I got my inspiration back and now I’m so so happy it’s actually finished!! <3

major thank you to @zyafics who helped me last year when i was writing the fic and helped me brainstorm ideas for it :’) kissing your beautiful mind just like always zya xxx

this really is a labor of love and I genuinely couldn’t be happier 🥹I would highly appreciate all kinds of feedback and reblogs, because they really are extremely motivating and fun to get back to! I hope you enjoy reading, and i hope these 6k words are worth all your time and attention :)

masterlist / join my taglist / requests

PROLOGUE

“Stay off Figure 8!”

The all too familiar deep voice boomed across the beach, a completely dead silence started to surround the atmosphere. A loud groan was heard along with the unsteady thump of a person falling onto the sand, causing people standing around to gasp.

JJ struggled to get up from the ground, the big punch he received from the one and only caused his nose to bleed non stop, and when he barely opened his eyes, he was met with a pair of icy cold blues staring back at him.

“You hear me, Maybank? Stay. Off. Figure. 8. You and all your filthy pogue friends.”

JJ tried getting up and talking back, he really did, but the one and only Rafe Cameron punched him so hard he lost all his balance. Blood kept on flowing in a never ending fashion, and JJ could see dark spots in his vision, his mind feeling light headed.

“JJ!”

Rafe froze in his position, not looking up from JJ at the sound of JJ’s name being called out. The voice, the perfume, the general aura of the presence; Rafe didn’t have to look up to see who it was.

“JJ oh my god please tell me you’re okay,” you mumbled, your voice almost trembling with the worry dripping from your words. You got on your knees and gently cradled JJ’s face, pulling it into your lap as you brushed his hair aside to look at the extent of damage on his face. JJ mumbled something incoherently and you let out a sigh, relieved he wasn’t completely knocked out.

Rafe stood there on the side, his eyes widened as he saw how your fingers ran through his hair and wiped off his blood, he saw how careful you were with him, he saw how you mumbled small words of sweet nothingness to him.

Rafe didn’t know what to say, he stood there limply as he watched you help JJ up, let him loop an arm across your shoulders so you could help him walk back to The Cut.

As he saw you both walk back, he felt his blood boil. The rage built in him slowly like a thunderstorm, his breathing started to become erratic and his fists clenched tightly on his sides.

“FUCK!”

Rafe’s foot kicked across an empty beer can buried in the sand, causing it to fly and topple a few meters further from him.

He wouldn’t have done anything to JJ, heck, he wouldn’t have looked at him if he knew you were on the beach too.

The look on your face when you saw how hurt JJ was, the concern clouding all over your facial features; from the furrow of your brow to the frown on your lips, he knew you now hated him more than ever. He knew you would never want to look at him ever again. He knew you would never acknowledge his presence ever again.

He knew there was no chance you would look at him the way he looked at you.

ONE — THE PARTY

It was crazy.

The lights were neon and bright and they pierced your eyes harshly. The people at the party were almost sticking next to each other, their sweat, weed, alcohol, and an ungodly mix of expensive and cheap colognes being the only thing you can smell.

You almost gagged as you maneuvered your way through the sweaty crowd, but you finally did, finding yourself taking deep breaths as you leaned against the countertop of the makeshift bar in the kitchen, letting the awful smell wash away from your nose palette.

When you started feeling better, you got yourself a nice cold beer, letting the icy liquid run down your throat, sending chills down your spine but in a way you relished deeply.

It was a scene like any other party; there were people dancing, some catching a smoke break at the side, some making out on the other side, nothing new.

And it wasn’t anything new when a fight broke out.

You didn’t know who the boys were who started to fight; all you saw was them go at each other like wolves, their courage mostly coming from the plethora of drugs in their system, profanities after profanities spilling out their mouth, and you were just watching from the side, completely nonchalant about it.

But you were not so nonchalant when glass bottles were involved in hurting the other; you being in close proximity to the fighting pair resulted in one of the flying broken piece of glass cutting your hand, making you yell out at the sharp pain. The cut looked deep as the blood didn’t stop gushing out, but no one focused on you. Everyone was too busy watching the fight, trying to stop it, or just enjoying it for the heck of it.

You hissed in pain, your own beer bottle set aside as you squeezed your eyes shut from the stinging pain spreading from your hand to your forearm. The blood started to trickle down from your palm down to the floor, and you had no idea what to do or who to go to.

It all became a huge mess very quick, you on the side with your hand bleeding, and the rest of the party too busy to peg the immature boys on.

You felt a tall shadow stalking over you, the scent of the rich cologne all too familiar.

“That looks bad,” you heard in your ear.

You turned to be face to face with Rafe. He was stalking down your wound, the blood flow not really stopping as the drops dripped down on the hardwood floor. His expression wasn’t one of worry. But it wasn’t one of detest either. It was just… emotionless.

“Yeah no shit,” you muttered, looking down at your wound too.

“Here,” he said, fishing out his handkerchief from his pocket. “This should help for the moment…” he muttered as he gently took your hand and wrapped the handkerchief around your cut.

You looked at his hands working around your hand, covering up the cut. The pearly white cloth was quickly stained with a deep red of your blood, slowly spreading throughout the cloth.

“You should get that checked once, just in case you need stitches,” he said, tying a knot to fix the cloth in its place. Just like his facial expression, his voice is also emotionless, monotone words leaving his lips.

“Why are you doing this?” You couldn’t help but ask, out of all the people, Rafe was there to help you with your wound.

“Because you’re bleeding a little too much,” he said, taking a step back from you. His hands then buried in the pockets of his jeans as he shrugged at you.

You looked up in his icy blue eyes, not a single emotion in them. You weren’t sure what to say, finding yourself to be quite stunned which was never really the case; whenever Rafe talked to you, you were always quick to talk back, never letting him be the one who said the last words.

“Right… thanks,” you muttered, looking down at the securely tied handkerchief around your hand.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod of his head, and left you alone.

TWO — THE FAILED DATE

You clutched on the tablecloth out of utter anxiousness, your eyes darting around the room. You took a look at your watch for the umpteenth time, and saw that the time you were supposed to be meeting someone got farther and farther in the past with each passing second.

It had now been over an hour, the waiters had politely asked you if you would like to eat something, and all you asked for was a simple glass of water, because what if he shows up?

But now you could very clearly see that he won’t.

You had a date, which unlike the past dates you had been on, really excited you. You thought he was a nice boy, someone you met while you were buying some beer for you and your friends. You don’t remember how the conversation started, but you both used to talk quite often, numbers exchanged and texts sent under the pale moonlight of 3 am.

He finally asked you out on a date, and you were thrilled, to say the very least. But now, here you were at a fancy restaurant on Figure 8 which you barely got to go to, absolutely impatient as your knee bounced up and down out of anxiousness and embarrassment.

You felt tears prick your eyes but you were quick to not let them fall, wiping them away from your waterline. You looked down in your lap, your fingers nervously pulling onto each other as the reality of being ditched settled in you. You took another look at your phone, desperate for any text, but there were no notifications.

But then, you felt the sunlight falling onto you from the window next to you being blocked by a huge shadow, and when you looked up, you saw Rafe.

Of course, Rafe, out of all the people.

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you; your slightly red eyes and the tears accumulated in them didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Why are you here all alone?” He asked you, still standing in front of you.

You just shook your head as a reply and picked up your belongings from the table. “It’s none of your business Rafe… I’ll just leave…” you muttered, but before you could do anything else, Rafe sat in the seat opposite to you.

He took a look at your outfit, noticing it’s something different than the attire you’re usually sporting, something more formal.

It didn’t take him long to connect two and two together to figure out everything.

“You got ditched huh?” He said silently. His tone came off condescending to you, even though he didn’t mean to sound that way at all.

You mentally braced yourself to get embarrassed by him, ready to hear a comment or two from him, because that’s what he did: say rude things to people, especially Pogues, because he felt like it.

But he didn’t say anything.

Absolutely nothing.

You looked up at him, small streaks of tears had started making their way down. “I told you it’s none of your business,” you said, sniffling.

He only sighed as he leaned back in the chair, watched you carefully as your head hung low, silent sobs escaping you as you occasionally wiped away your tears.

“Listen, it’s not your fault okay?” He mumbled. You looked up from your lap with your eyes filled with tears. “I know you must be feeling really bad right now, and there is nothing wrong about it, but don’t think too much about it,”

“I… I got ditched Rafe. I am sitting here all alone in this expensive restaurant crying my eyes out. How can I not think too much about it?” You whispered, your eyebrows creased together.

He leaned a bit closer to you. “I’m trying to make you feel better…” He said softly.

“Well,” you sniffled, looking away from him, “I didn’t ask for it, okay?”

These were the last words you said, before you got up from your chair and left the restaurant, whilst Rafe watched you walk away, wanting to hold your hand and to stop you, but he just couldn’t.

THREE — THE BEACH CLEAN UP

You looked up at the sun, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you took in a deep breath. The summers only seemed to be getting hotter this time around, and the fact that you were at a beach clean up at noon was not helping your situation.

You liked to pick up work like beach clean ups in between your main job at the island club so you could make a little side money.

As you got back to picking up the trash from the beach, throwing it in the little basket you’re carrying with yourself, you looked up to hear some chatter besides the otherwise quiet beach and the other people working quite silently.

It was a group of Kooks – their expensive clothes and accessories shining under the bright rays of the sun completely unmissable. And in the group of them, a pair of electric blue eyes had its gaze fixed on you intensely.

You didn’t even know why Rafe was there. Or why the other Kooks were there. They didn’t have any need to participate in these kinds of jobs. Everything was just handed down to them, daddy’s money being what they thrive on.

You ignored them and got back to working, focusing on clearing the trash from the specific area of the beach you were at. Just a few minutes later you felt the sunlight being blocked by a huge shadow, and when you looked up, you saw Rafe right by your side, separated from his Kook friends.

You wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure what, so you peeled your focus away from him and got back to picking up the trash and throwing it into the basket.

“Here,” he said almost suddenly, causing you to look up at him. “I’ll hold it for you,” he gestured the basket in your hand, and even proceeded to hook two of his fingers into its side, holding onto it.

Before you could have protested, he gently pulled the basket from your hand, causing you to let go of it. You wouldn’t lie, your basket had started to get heavy from the innumerable aluminum cans and other trash sitting in it.

“Thanks,” you murmured under your breath and from the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe acknowledged you with a nod of his head.

For the next hour or so, you went around picking up the trash and Rafe followed you holding the basket for you as if it weighed nothing, and you kept on dropping the trash in it. It was oddly comfortable, the silence between you two as you weren’t sure what to say – and frankly, you thought that was the best.

As the clean up came to an end, everyone was sitting in the sand, and light laughter and chatter filled the group. The afternoon had started to turn into evening, the bright rays of the sun turning into something more warm, more comforting instead of burning. You sat in the sand, leaning back on your forearms a little away from the rest, just letting the summer breeze blow past you gently.

Rafe sat down next to you, and held out something. You saw it was a glass of iced lemonade he got from the little surf shop.

“You didn’t have to,” you mumbled, eyeing the glass in his hand, the condensation on the surface causing water droplets to slide against the smooth glass.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’ve worked all afternoon. Have it, it’s my treat.”

You took another second or two before taking the glass from him, sipping on the cool, sour yet sweet liquid and allowing it to run down your throat. He remained seated next to you as you both watched the waves crash on the shore, the seagulls flying over and the sun only delving you into a comforting warmth more and more with each passing second, and slurped on your little lemony drinks.

FOUR — THE TIP

The day was slowly turning into dusk, the bright afternoon light leaving to welcome darker pink and orange streaks cast by the almost setting sun. This was the time when the island club started filling in more and more, the bar being one of the first parts of the club to get exceptionally occupied.

You were busy serving an older woman, your mind completely occupied to make the martini, when out of the corner of your eye, you caught the all too familiar gist of a head of dirty blonde curtain bangs.

You turned your head to meet Rafe’s blue eyes looking intently at you. The way he was focused on you, his gaze not wavering for even a fraction of a second, and the strong intensity behind them made you feel like the only girl on this planet. Though, of course, that feeling was short-lived when you were snapped out of your daze by a customer calling out for you.

You were quick to rush over to the customer, who had just finished the drink you had served him. He left the money for his drink where he was sitting and was already making his way out of the club.

You picked up the dollar bills to see he paid completely for the drink, but the tip wasn’t even touching the bare minimum. You didn’t know what the reason was, you had been kind to the customer, made his drink perfectly and served it on time, and even presented it as aesthetically as you could. Even then, your tip wasn’t up to the mark. Sighing, you made your way over to the other end of the bar counter where you kept your tip jar, which coincidentally also happened to be where Rafe was sitting.

“Everything alright?” He asked, eyeing your woeful expression as you were putting the newly received ‘tip’ (if it can be even called that) in the jar. His eyes raked over the jar, and he couldn’t help but find it a lot more empty than it should be.

“Yeah everything’s fine,” You mumbled, keeping the jar aside. You wiped your hands once on the towel slung in the loop of your apron before looking up at Rafe. “What can I get you?” You asked.

“A neat whiskey’s fine,” He said and you nodded. You served him the neat whiskey, setting the glass right in front of him. He gave you an acknowledging nod and wrapped his fingers around the glass and bought it closer to his mouth, drinking from it.

You decided to work around the bar a bit, just cleaning everything up, preparing everything you may need in advance, practically anything you could get your hands at – because anything was better than having to talk to Rafe, who, by the way, didn’t take his eyes off you for even a second. His gaze was firm and jaw was set as he just saw you work around the bar, silently sipping on his whiskey.

You kept yourself wonderfully distracted as you served the customers and prepared everything behind the bar, but every so often, your gaze would magnetically be pulled back to Rafe, and you would always catch him looking at you.

When you noticed Rafe’s almost done with his glass of whiskey, you made your way back to him.

“Another one?” You asked, and he only silently nodded as his reply. You refilled his glass with the neat whiskey, and leaned back against the counter, just simply glancing around the scene of the bar and the club and catching a small break.

A silence fell over the two of you, the light chatter and the music playing in the club thrumming against your eardrums. Rafe was just silently sipping the whiskey, not saying or doing anything, just sitting there and having his drink.

“So uh… you’re alone here tonight?” You asked, your words feeling cautious. “I mean, you’re usually here with Topper, or with someone, atleast,”

He set his almost finished glass at the counter, his fingers still wrapped around the clear glass. His gaze found yours, a warm blue instead of the usual icy one sinking into your eyes.

“Topper was busy,” He muttered, “so I came alone,”

You just quietly hummed at his words, and from the corner of your eye you saw one of your customers finishing their drink and leaving their money on the counter. You went to get it, and when you did, you saw it’s the same thing repeating itself: the ‘tip’.

You sighed, slightly aggravated as you made your way back to where the top jar was, and dumped the money in it.

“Will it kill them to just pay something to their bartender?” You sighed, leaning against the counter and tilting your head back, closing your eyes for a moment. Your shift was close to coming to an end and if that’s the money you had to go home with tonight, well, it’d be kind of fucked.

You could feel Rafe’s gaze on you, but he didn’t say anything, just finished the last sip of his whiskey in a gulp. You were about to ask him for another refill, but you heard someone calling you out.

You turned around to see it was one of your coworkers, who told you were being called inside. You turned to look back at Rafe, but he just shook his head, and gestured to you to leave. You followed your coworker and went inside to where he was leading to.

After being freed from the quite useless meetup with your manager, you finally walked back out to the bar after 15 minutes. When you did, you saw Rafe’s stool was empty, and there was money kept on the counter.

You approached the counter, and the moment you saw the money, your eyes almost fell out from how wide they got.

Ten crisp hundred dollar notes sat unfolded on the marbled counter along with the money for the whiskey, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. For a second, it felt unreal. You reached your hand out and your fingertips touched the paper, and you realised the money was real. You picked the notes up, your lips parted in shock as you gaze at them.

Rafe tipped you $1000.

1000 fucking dollars.

Your gaze immediately turned towards the exit of the bar, and of course, you couldn’t spot Rafe – you had completely missed him.

You carefully kept the notes in your tip jar and sealed the jar shut. Through the glass, you couldn’t remove your gaze from the notes, your mind now completely clouded with Rafe, and his tip.

ONE — THE BROKEN DOWN CAR

You let out a frustrated groan, kicking the tyre in utter vexation, which helped you release just the tiniest fraction of your rage. You fished out your phone from your pocket just to see it was nothing more than a dead device, serving you no purpose. You almost had the urge to throw the phone, but you stopped yourself at the right second, because you realized, you can’t afford to hear the sound of the glass screen cracking.

Instead, you just kicked a pebble in your path and slumped against the side door of your beat up car which decided to stop working halfway across your journey from Figure 8 to the Cut. You were at the side of the road, watching other cars and vehicles pass by as you sat there on the roadside, not having a single clue on what to do.

10… 15… 20 minutes passed and you were still in the same position, not knowing what to do and not making any effort to find out either. The road fell silent a few minutes ago, no vehicles crossing, but the silence was short lived when you heard the revving of an engine from the distance, and it came to a stop right next to you.

An all too familiar red and black bike stood next to you, the rider’s face covered by the helmet. But the bike, the gold signet ring on the index finger of the left hand, and the taut muscles peeking from under the t-shirt were more than enough to confirm who it was.

The helmet came off and Rafe’s piercing blue eyes found yours.

“What happened?” He asked, getting off his bike as he ran a hand through his hair, his curtain bangs pushed back momentarily before they fell down on both the sides of his face in a ragged middle part just like always.

“My car broke down,” you muttered as you looked up at him.

“Hm.”

He rounded around you and lifted the cover of the engine, holding it up with one hand as he inspected the engine carefully. You watched him intently, trying to figure out what the expressions on his face meant, but there weren’t any to begin with. It was a face so cold and plain, suiting well with the cold blue eyes.

“There’s some issue with the battery. You most probably need to get it replaced.” He declared, letting the cover fall back in its place.

“Oh great,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words as you threw your head back against the door of your car. “That’ll probably cost nothing, won’t it?”

Rafe caught the sarcasm of your words very well but didn’t comment anything, just wiped the dust off his hands as he gazed down at you.

“Come on,” you heard, and as you looked up, you saw he was holding his hand out for you. “You were probably going back home yeah? I’ll drop you.”

You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off the next instant.

“No ifs, or buts, or ‘Rafe’s, you hear me? You’re letting me drop you off, and are letting me take care of this,” he said, gesturing to your car. “I’ll call a mechanic who’ll get your car towed from here and will work on it. Now come on, none of us have got all day.”

By the end of his words, you knew whatever you’ll do is equivalent to pointless, so you gave in. You gently held his hand and helped yourself up from the road, brushing a hand over your clothes as he led you to his bike parked aside.

Rafe put his helmet on top of your head and adjusted the strap, and you heard a faint click as it fixed in place. You wanted to ask ‘what about you?’ when the only helmet was now sitting on your head, but you decided against it. He mounted the bike and gestured to you to do the same, revving the engine twice or thrice before taking off.

He was definitely faster than what you had expected, and you couldn’t help it when you gripped the sides of his t-shirt, fisting the crisp material in your fingers to provide yourself some stability. For a second, he took one hand off the handlebar and reached for your hand scrunching his t-shirt. He gently took your wrist and you let go of the fabric in the process, allowing him to tug your hand and place it on his waist. Your other hand followed suit, and both of your arms were firmly wrapped around his waist. His hand landed back at the handlebar, and he only sped up more, the wind whipping past you at a phenomenal speed.

The ride to The Cut came to an end when Rafe reached your home, and you didn’t want to admit to him or to yourself, but you felt it was short. The ride was nothing short of exhilarating, the wind whipping past your skin, and the way your arms found purchase around his waist gave you the comfort you needed.

You got off the bike, firmly planting your feet on the ground as you did so, and Rafe’s hand instinctively wrapped around your arm to make sure you remained stable. You carefully took off the helmet and handed it back to him.

“So uh,” You muttered, clearing your throat subtly, “thanks for the ride. Really,”

He shook his head, kicking the stand of the bike in place and allowing it to lean on one side. “Don’t worry,” He said, still sitting on the bike.

“You, you really didn’t have to,” You said, your fingers intertwined with each other behind your back.

“And do what? Leave you alone at the side of the road? With a broken down car and a dead phone?” Rafe sighed. “I wasn’t gonna do that y/n, you know that,”

You know that.

Yeah you do.

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as a small silence fell over you two as none of you said anything, and you kept on contemplating how you could possibly return such a massive favor.

“You…” You began, your voice low, the words on the tip of the tongue feeling experimental, “you wanna come inside for a moment?”

Rafe’s response didn’t come out the very next second, and that small pause felt like years to you.

“Sure,” He said, getting off his bike. You let out a sigh of relief and nodded, leading him towards your place.

“It’s nothing big…” You muttered as you climbed up the stairs of the porch and he followed suit, watching you unlock the front door. “But it’s home, I guess.”

Knowing he had grown up in the richest part of the island, surrounded by everything he could possibly need and want, you had a feeling he’d definitely make some snarky comment. Cause isn’t that what he did? Rafe Cameron: the Kook prince, but also the biggest asshole?

But he was completely silent when he followed you inside and only quietly sat down on the couch you led him to, which you definitely were shocked to see, but nevertheless you didn’t really let it show on your expressions.

“So uh…” you began to speak, wanting to break through the awkward air around you two, “anything you’d like? Water? Or some tea maybe?”

He shook his head silently, and a moment later, gestured to the empty seat next to him.

“Come sit,” he said, words simple and direct, no beating around the bush, just like always.

You took a sweet moment to let his words settle in you, but when you did, you walked up to the couch and sat down next to him, a small distance maintained between the two of you. Your gaze remained fixed on your shoes, your hands perfectly intertwined in your lap, and your habit of pulling onto them – something which only tended to happen you felt really anxious – came back.

The awkward air was around you two again, settling over you two like a blanket that is way too warm for hot weather, making you feel uneasy and has got you squirming for any sort of cooling.

“Why do you do that?”

There it was.

It was out.

You blabbered out the question as if it meant nothing, when in reality, it carried so much more weight than you could possibly ever imagine.

When you were met with silence for a moment, you looked up, and saw Rafe sitting with his hands on his knees, his own gaze fixed at something on the floor. What was it exactly – you couldn’t tell.

When he still didn’t speak anything, you decided to take the chance.

“You’re always… there for me, in one way or the other. You patched my hand up at that party weeks ago, when you could’ve just ignored the situation. You saw me crying to myself when my date didn’t show up and came up to me when you could’ve just ignored the situation. You helped me at the beach clean up and carried my heavy bin for me when you could’ve ignored the situation. You saw my lack of tips and paid me a massive one when you could’ve ignored the situation. You could’ve always ignored the situation, Rafe. Just like you always do with the other Pogues. With them, you don’t care for even a damn second. But… why are you doing so much for me?”

The silence kept on greeting you, and you could feel yourself beginning to get impatient. Your gaze flickered over Rafe, and you didn’t miss the way he flexed his fingers over his knee, as if gripping it tightly.

“I, I don’t know…” He mumbled weakly. You had never heard his voice take such a softer tone. It’s as if you didn’t even know it existed.

“What– what do you mean you don’t know?” You sighed, turning your body a bit so you could face him. “That’s fucking ridiculous Rafe!”

“It’s not ridiculous I just can’t explain it the way you wish I could–”

“Well you should be able to cause I need explanations–”

“Not everything can be given a logical explanation come on–”

“Yes it can if you try hard enough–”

“I care for you okay!”

His words were loud, much louder than any of his previous words. Their loudness and conviction shut you up right at that moment, your eyes widening, and your lips slightly parted as you stared at him with a look of disbelief in your eyes.

“I–I Rafe began, running a hand through his messy bangs, and you had to control the urge to run your own fingers through them and gently push them out of his eyes, “I don’t know why, but I just can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, or being sad, or going through any discomfort. I just can’t okay? Each time I see you that way I– I immediately get to solving it cause I can’t bear to see you all troubled. I don’t want to see a single scratch on your skin or– or a single furrow in your brow I just… want to see you happy. Cause you look... so so pretty when you’re smiling, y/n, it’s… it’s unexplainable,”

A silence fell over you two as you let his words sink in you, which was a lot harder than you’d like, but you were doing it.

“And i just… wish that one day… you’d smile that pretty smile of yours because of me,” He murmured, “because I made you smile,”

You could see Rafe’s own words taking a massive toll on him, just as it was taking on you. You parted your lips to say something but you were just so horribly stumped, you couldn’t utter a single word.

He ran a ragged hand through his hair once again and stood up, clearing his throat.

“I should leave now,” He muttered, standing in front of your seated form but not facing you, but instead facing the door. Your own gaze was fixed at the floor, and you could hear your heartbeat thumping loudly in your eyes, his words repeating over and over like a broken record in your mind.

You didn’t say anything to stop him, so Rafe silently walked out the door, closing it behind himself with a silent click.

You were left all alone in your living room, Rafe’s weighted words lying heavy on your heart and mind, and the distant noise of his bike’s engine revving a bitter reminder that he wasn’t next to you anymore.

Just two days later, when you woke up in the morning and looked out your window, you saw your car parked. Not only was the battery replaced, a whole paint job was done, the ripped car seats were replaced with some fancy leather, the tyres were exchanged for upgraded ones, and for a second, you didn’t even recognise your own car.

You noticed a piece of paper held in place by the windshield wiper, and when you went outside and took the piece of paper and unfolded it, you saw a small phrase scrawled in black against the white of the paper.

don’t mention it. – R.C.

EPILOGUE

You let out a deep sigh as you watch him laugh, patting his friend’s arm in the process. A smile of pure contentment crosses your face, watching the rays of the bright, afternoon sun hit his bare skin and making it shine, his muscles seeming more pronounced than ever.

You watch him turn around and glance at you over his shoulder, his smile wide as he gives you a flying kiss. You can’t help but chuckle at the endearing action, causing you to send one his way too. He lifts up two fingers in the form of a peace sign and gestures to his friend next to him, silently conveying to you that he will be by your side in just two minutes. You give him an understanding nod and watch his head turn back to the front, getting delved into the conversation with his friend again.

You sip on your drink as you lean your head back, the sound of the boat rushing past the waves of the ocean filling your ear drums deeply. You close your eyes and just listen to the sound of waves, your mind shutting out the chitter chatter of the conversations of the other people on this boat.

Soon enough you feel the sunlight being blocked and as you open your eyes, you see him standing right in front of you, a smile on his face. The chain around his neck along with the little gold capital letter of your initial hanging from it catches the sunlight and gleams more than it usually does. He sits down next to you and silently wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You smile as you lean into him, your fingers going immediately to fiddle with the chain, feeling the edges of the cool gold initial under your fingertips.

You take a glance up at him, running your other hand along the side of his now buzzed head, feeling the short, prickly hair gently tickle your fingers.

“Are you having a good time so far?” He mutters softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, your head tucking in the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, yeah I am,” you say quietly, your fingers mindlessly continuing fiddling with the gold initial on his chest. “You?” You ask, slightly lifting your head up from his neck.

“Oh, the absolute best time,” He says softly, looking down at you with a gentle smile on his face. “We’re on our boat, and I’m with my gorgeous girlfriend, what else could I need?”

You can’t help but softly chuckle at his words, silently shaking your head as you lean your head against his shoulder again and resume fiddling with the chain. You do it often, almost each time you get your hands on him, and he loves it; feeling the occasional brush of your fingers against his skin and the gentle tugs on the chain.

He allows you to relax against him completely, his arms around you to keep you close to him as you both sit silently, only the sound of the water and the light chatter of your friends accompanying you two.

“Thank you,” Rafe says softly, his fingertips tracing gentle patterns on your shoulder.

You furrow your brows at his words, slightly confused, as you look up at him. “What for?” You ask.

Rafe only keeps on gazing at you, a gentle smile pulling his lips. He quietly shakes his head, and with a gentle pull, he allows you to rest against him again.

“Nothing.” He stays quiet for a moment. “Everything.”

Your own lips can’t help but upturn in a small smile too. “Well, in that case…” you murmur, leaning back to look up at him, one hand coming to rest against his cheek as you gently caress the soft skin, and you slowly lean in, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Thank you,” you mumble softly against his lips. Rafe’s hands grip your waist and he pulls you closer, not letting you pull back from the kiss. His fingers splay across your back as he kisses you, his lips moving in an unhurried, tender motion against yours.

A moment or so later, he pulls back, his eyes opening by just a fraction. You let your arms hook around Rafe’s neck, keeping him close to you.

“You’re the only one for me, Rafe,” you mumble quietly. “You’re the only one I’ll ever want.”

He leans his head against you and takes a deep breath, your scent and the smell of the ocean around you filling his nostrils deeply.

You both let the moment just simply sink in you, the sun rays bathing you in the warmest light, along with the presence of each other, which might be warmer than the sun any time of the day.

“Only you, my girl,” he mumbles quietly. “Always and forever.”

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @drewstarkeys-world / @inthelibrarybtw / @mileyraes / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @khaisdrz / @weirdowithnobeardo

specific tags for this fic: @writingmeraki / @ghoslyethastaryn / @congratsloserr / @helloloverz / @littlelamy / @eolsens / @wtfdudesblog / @jkrafe / @onlyrealjoy / @husherstan / @lilithblackkk / @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

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totalswag · 19 hours ago

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Hii I have reques if you feel comfortable with it!

I read your drew fic with the arrest and I loved it!! I was wondering if reader was preforming bed chem outro instead of the back up singer it’s Drew and they get a little to carried away in front of the crowd. If That makes sense💕

bed chem ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note thank you for sending this request and it makes glad you liked my arrested for being too hot fic. my requests are still open and i'm gonna be working on the requests that are in my inbox right now from recent requests. also, you can picture singer!reader picture any way you want <3 i’m using sabrina carpenter as inspo for singer!reader.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary drew coming on stage at the very end of your song and you both get lost in the moment for a second in front of fans.

warning(s) mentions of intimate positions, kissing, touching.

Earlier in the show, you arrested Drew, your boyfriend, for being too hot— everyone in the arena went crazy seeing him. What they aren't expecting to Drew making a second appearance.

At the very end of bed chem one of your backup dancers will come into frame holding a camera on his shoulder, and when the curtain closes you pretend to do intimate things then the stage lights go off.

Prior to the show you asked Drew if he would be okay to go this— he agreed. Making sure he's comfortable was your first priority. He talked about different ways coming on stage that were so funny.

You start singing the final chorus of bed chem on your knees, legs wide out and free hand in front of you as you lean forward. The curtain signal is about to close. From the corner of your vision, you can see Drew approaching with the camera on his shoulder, dressed in dark pants and a white tank top—fans immediately began to cheer as he entered the frame.

He looked so good you couldn't control the redness of your cheeks spreading like a teenager seeing their crush.

To make the moment better, you sway your body around on the bed, allowing yourself to relax. Drew is looking at you with a smile on his face as he gets closer to the edge of the bed.

Motioning him to get closer— he lifts one leg on the bed as the curtain makes its way around the bed. Slowly setting down the camera on the edge of the bed.

You moved closer to Drew, pressing your bodies together in a false display of intimacy. Drew played along well, massaging your sides as he drew you closer. The crowd's cheers intensified, and the excitement in the arena reached a fever pitch.

You leaned in and kissed Drew deeply, as the curtain began to close behind you. The kiss was supposed to be a tease, a staged performance for the spectators, but you found yourself becoming lost in it.

Drew's hands crept up to cradle your face, his touch soft yet forceful. You forgot about the crowd, the cameras, and everything. It was just you and Drew, completely lost in each other.

Your hands drag down his bare chest, and he leaps forward into you at the gentleness of your touch, sending lightning down your body.

Once the lights turn off you both pull away from each other. Everything in your body right now is all over the place you think you are gonna explode. You are breathing heavily.

"You always know how to put on a show," he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

You giggled softly, your fingertips tracing the contour of his jawline. "And you always know how to make it unforgettable."

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gotta-winwin · 3 days ago

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Can I request a full oneshot on that dino when accepting an award like shouting out his wife and watching the internet explode and the members reaction to him I NEED THIS it got me kicking my feet and giggling just by thinking this 🛐🛐🛐 HAHHAHAHA

btw I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS!! 😘

hehehe omg ofc! i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing this dino has no business looking THAT fine and bias wreaking me( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) thank you so much for both requesting and enjoying my work!

where's the trophy... he just comes running over to me <3

masterlist fic that prompted this oneshot

word count: 1.4k tw/cw: idol!dino x wife!reader, childhood friends to lovers, public shoutout, a whole lot of sap, seungkwan clowning dino a/n: writing this just makes me want to see svt with their s/o in real life (we know these boys aint single bro)

It's a quiet and unassuming day until you're reminded that today is the MAMA awards. It didn't help that the award show wasn't hosted in Korea this year, leading to you being stuck on your couch, hands quivering as the show began.

It had been a tough yet rewarding year for Chan and his group mates, and you had been lucky enough to see it all. You felt proud that even with the distance, you had always been the first person Chan would call for anything.

Headlining Glastonbury? He had shined brightly onstage and even brighter during your video call, where he took you through his day, making it feel like you had been with him every step of the way.

Tour? He was texting you in between songs, updating you on the tiniest things despite you scolding him that he needed to concentrate on the show. He just couldn't help it, his mind immediately drifting to you whenever something remotely interesting took place. Baby, DK's pants ripped onstage just now. He'd text you, shoulders still shaking from laughter. Coups hyung got barked at again. Whatever tidbit it was, Chan's name lighting up on your screen was a warm embrace compared to the lonely nights without him.

It'd all be worth it now, you thought, as you let out a gasp of joy when Seventeen's name was announced as Artist of the Year. Your hands were still shaking as you picked up your phone to record the moment.

Chan's face glowed on your tv screen as he walked up with his members to accept the award. You couldn't help but remember how he used to look - kidish, tiny, cute and juvenile. You recalled how drastic the change had been, as you both matured and grew together, leading you to realize how hot he looked - so built and handsome. Yet it was the bubbly glow that stayed with him despite aging that you loved the most.

"Thank you Carats!" Your husband raised the trophy proudly into the air. "You know...I was the only one who didn't get to speak when we won a daesang last year..."

You couldn't help but scoff endearingly at how sassy he could be while receiving an award you knew would make him sob to you later.

"Ever since our debut," He continued, staring at you through the tv screen. "My dream was to be an artist that would remain in history."

You could remember that, even now, years later.

"I'm going to make you a promise." 15 year old Chan had told you, on the rare chance he had gotten a break from training. He had taken the two of you to the park in between Pledis and your house.

"Promise me what?" You had replied, lips feinting a small smile as you watched his eager expression.

"That one day, I'm going to be an artist that will stay throughout history." His face was full of raw determination. "And that you'll be right there with me. On top of the world. One day, I'll be an artist you can be proud of."

Seems like he kept that promise.

"And those feelings..." He continued speaking into the mic. "Those feelings will continue as we go into the future with Carats." The crowed cheered at his words.

You could tell from his face that something was up. He had that mischievous look that would only come out whenever he was about to do something to tease you.

"And..." He took a pause, smiling at the dramatic effect it had caused. "Well..."

You half wanted to reach through the tv and smack him, as your heart raced in anticipation. You had ran through his speech with him on video call days ago. This wasn't part of it.

"I once made a promise to someone," He finally said aloud, and you knew immediately what he was doing, mouth dropping in both surprise and realization. "A long time ago, when we were both very young, I made a promise that I would become an artist she could be proud of." He smiled bashfully at the memory of both the moment and the person. "I also promised her that she would be there with me, on top of the world."

You had to sit down, your legs failing you.

"I kept my promise, didn't I?" He said into the mic, and you could tell he was speaking just to you. "I hope you're proud of everything I've done, my lovely, patient wife. Only you could've stuck by me for fourteen years." He added the last part teasingly. "I love you." He raised the trophy in his hands. "This- this is for you." Pausing, he corrected himself. "Well- for you and the members." He smiled sheepishly at the boys behind him. "It is our award."

Dino had gotten Seungcheol's approval minutes before the award show began, begging the leader to let him shout out his wife. "Please, please, please, hyung." He had pleaded, trying to convey that this was literally his lifelong dream. "I've always wanted to do that. Just drop a bomb into the world and walk off." Seungcheol could only sigh, staring at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. He nodded, although he knew it would inevitably create a media frenzy for the company to clean up. "Go for it." He patted their maknae on the back. "Not my problem, not my mess."

Jeonghan had been kept blissfully in the dark until he was watching their acceptance speech live. The further Dino's speech went, the further his jaw dropped. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Dino was shouting out his wife on the stage at MAMA awards, accepting an AOTY award. Immediately after, he calls Dino up, scolding him for not telling him sooner and admitting it was a baller move.

Joshua had been busy trying to comfort a near-tears Seungcheol, Dino's speech barely registering in his ears. He's blissfully confused when the crowd goes bonkers, yelling into DK's ear to tell him what on earth happened. He's proud of Dino, acknowledging that their maknae has grown up to the point that the world now knows he has a whole wife.

All the way in China, Jun's watching the show live on his phone from his trailer on set. The connection is spotty, leaving his members in pixels and full of lag. Thankfully, the only clear part is Dino's speech, leaving Jun in deep shock and a little wounded. He wished he had been there for that.

Hoshi's loud ass gasp is the only thing fans can hear from the crowd other than their own screaming. It's clear on his face that he's flabbergasted - leading fans to speculate if he even knew Dino had a wife.

Wonwoo can't help but let out a hearty laugh once the weight of Dino's speech sinks into his bones. He knows the media and fans are going to have sooo much fun with this. He feels bad that you're now in the spotlight and hopes Dino got your permission beforehand...did he?

Very busy trying to will his tears away, Woozi's shocked out of his feels, tears evaporating at the sound of Dino's voice and the word wife. He's shocked, but happiness takes over when he realizes this will overshadow the fact that he's about to ball on global tv.

Minghao's just got that goofy shocked expression on his face as he registers the moment. He's smiling from ear to ear, basking in the joy that's radiating off of Dino. Who is he to stand in the way of Dino finally showing off his love?

Mingyu is over the moon. Having been your biggest supporter, he's elated you and Dino are finally going public. The fact that he's currently onstage accepting a daesang is completely thrown out of his mind, replaced with the joy of seeing Dino thrive.

Poor Woozi has DK's arms wrapped around him as if DK's trying to suffocate the man. He can't contain his excitement and joy at the reveal, accidentally using Woozi as a stress ball. He tackles Dino as they walk offstage, yelling about how CUTE that was and how lucky you are to have each other.

Seungkwan's stunned into complete silence. He's lowkey judging (just a little bit) at how insane Dino is acting right now - knowing this is bound to stir the pot online. He's the first one to tease Dino, going as far as clowning him during his own speech. "I once made a promise..." Seungkwan fails to keep a straight face as he clowned Dino's speech to his wife. "And I-" He's kicked off the mic by Dino before he can finish.

Vernon simply nods in approval as he watches Dino finish his speech. He respects the confidence and craziness to do such a thing, especially with how dating was basically a taboo for them as idols- and bros hard launching a whole ass wife!

#seventeen imagines #seventeen ot13 #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt #seventeen #svt fluff #idolverse #idol fic #idol x reader #dino x reader #seventeen reactions #seventeen fic #svt reactions #svt fanfic #svt fic #svt scenarios #requests

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madebycloud · 10 hours ago

Text

You're here that's the thing

jinx x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: Home isn't a four walls and a roof nor the material things that fill in it. It's the warmth in Jinx's eyes whenever she smiles at you, it's the little hands clinging to your shirt as they cross the street. Home is right here. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: FLUFF!! domestic ig, vulnerability (???), slight angsty at the end but happy ending <3 words: 5.7k notes: i'm glad nothing bad happened at the ending and they all live happily ever after :D

You're chowing down on a steaming bowl of seafood at Jericho's. Every bite is a savory delight, justifying your claim that this is Zaun's finest eatery.

A hooded figure quietly slides into the seat beside you, revealing familiar blue hair when they pull their hood back. Unfazed, you continue eating.

“Bad day?” you mutter, and the blue-haired person helps themselves to a seafood from your bowl without a word.

Life in Zaun is tough, especially after Silco's death, leaving room for chem barons to fight for power. What’s new?

Then, a kid catches your eye. You nudge Jinx. “Who's that?” You nod at the kid in the far corner.

Jinx, casually munching on your seafood, just shrugs, “Dunno. She's been following me.”

You stop eating and look over at the young girl who's been staring at you both, squinting slightly at her as your gaze shifts back to Jinx. She takes notice of your questioning look and quickly says, “She's not mine,” before taking another bite of seafood.

You roll your eyes at Jinx and then turn to the kid. “You hungry, kiddo?” you call out, gesturing towards the seat beside you.

She hops up onto the stool, though it's a bit high for her and you help her up. You order her a bowl of seafood like you and Jinx were having. She begins eating, her hands stuffing her face.

“So, kid, where's your parents, guardians? Shouldn't you be with them?” But her silence persists, her big, curious eyes locked onto yours.

You and Jinx finish your food and pay Jericho, walking out into the bustling lanes with the young girl in tow. Turning to Jinx, you shrug slightly. “Can she stay with us?”

Jinx looks at the child and back at you. “Do we even have a room for her?”

Weighing your options, you consider the practical aspect. The answer is likely a ‘no’, but with the environment of Zaun, leaving a child alone on the streets seems far from safe.

“She could use your room,” you suggest, glancing ahead. “I mean, you found her first.”

But Jinx isn't having it. “Nah, you're the one who brought it up, so it's your room.”

You and your parents once owned a house. Thanks to the all and mighty Piltover enforcers who played a role in your parents' disappearance, leaving the house unoccupied. Seeing an opportunity, you claimed the house, not only for yourself but also for your close friend who, without it, would have nowhere to sleep comfortably.

“It's my house.”

“Our house,” she corrects, smirking. “Considering most of the stuff there comes from me, it's not just yours. So that means–”

“By ‘comes from you,’ do you mean the stuff you've stolen?” Your brow furrows as you stop in your tracks, planting your hands on your hips as you stare her down.

Jinx shrugs nonchalantly, her smirk still present. “Finders keepers.”

You sigh, knowing you're not winning this argument, especially not in the middle of the street with people starting to watch. “Fine,” you relent. “She can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”

You crouch down to meet the kid's gaze, Jinx standing beside you with her arms crossed. “What's your name, little one?” you ask, but the child remains wordless, those big eyes staring back at you.

You glance at Jinx for help, but she's already thinking of names. “How about Pompom?”

The kid wrinkles her nose at the idea.

“Or maybe Pinky?” Jinx continues, grinning. “Or Sparkles!”

“How about ‘Isha’?” you suggest.

The moment the name leaves your lips, the child's eyes light up.

“Isha it is then.”

Jinx, a bit pouty, muttering under her breath, “She likes ‘Isha’ more, huh? Figures, it came from you.”

“What? It's a nice name,” you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, whatever.” She turns to Isha, poking the girl lightly on the nose. “Well, Isha, you're stuck with us now.”

Isha's eyes dart between you and Jinx. “More like we're the ones who are stuck with her,” you reply, chuckling, as you playfully ruffle the girl's hair.

—

It's been a full month since Isha started living under the same roof. You catch Jinx making her hold a gun, teaching her how to shoot.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow at Jinx, “Seriously, Jinx?”

Both Jinx and Isha look up at you, equally undeterred. “What? It's a fake gun,” Jinx defends herself, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache forming. “That's not the point, Jinx. She's just a kid.”

“Pft, ‘just’ a kid.” Jinx rolls her eyes, clearly not understanding your concern. “It's harmless, I promise. Just a little fun.”

“If you're looking for something fun,” you reach into your bag and pull out a coloring book and colored markers. “I found these in the lanes,” you explain, offering the items to Isha. “Much better than play-shooting,” you suggest, giving a pointed look to Jinx before she can protest.

She watches as Isha's face lights up, her attention quickly shifting to the coloring book and markers. “But…” Jinx starts.

“No buts, Jinx. She's coloring now.”

Jinx lets out a heavy sigh, clearly dissatisfied, but she doesn't protest further. She pouts, leaning back against a wall as she watches Isha happily coloring in.

You join Isha, sitting next to her. Her young hands grip the markers tightly as she fills the pages with colors.

“Making something nice?” you ask, peering over her shoulder to see her work.

Isha nods, her tongue slightly sticking out of her mouth as she carefully adds some color. She glances at you, offering a shy smile before returning to her drawing.

Once Isha is finished with her drawing, she proudly holds it up for you and Jinx to see. The drawing shows three stick figures on a bright blue sky. The two tallest figures, with one that has what looks like braids, are holding hands with the small one in the middle. The three figures smile under the sun.

“Wow, look at that! It's us, all together.”

Jinx, though reluctant at first, can't help but crack a smile too.

She leans in closer, “Why are my eyes so big?” she snickers, pointing at the comically large eyes drawn on her figure.

You laugh along with Jinx, pointing to a comical squiggly line drawn below your feet in the picture. “And what's that supposed to be, hm?”. Isha giggles, a small blush creeping up her face.

“It's your shadow, duh,” Jinx quips back.

“In that case, my shadow looks like it ate too much and grew extra limbs.”

“Well, if your shadow's a glutton, mine's got tentacles.” She points to her shadow drawing, which indeed looks like it has several wriggly appendages attached to it.

“You know, I think this is fridge-worthy,” you grin, holding up the drawing. "What do you think, Isha? Do you want to put this on the fridge?"

You turn to Isha, who nods excitedly, clapping her hands together.

You hand the drawing to Isha, who eagerly takes it to the fridge. You follow her, lifting her up slightly so she can stick the drawing against the fridge door with colorful magnets. She smooths out any wrinkles and carefully adjusts it until she's satisfied.

“Ta-da!” you say, as the drawing now has a permanent place of honor on the refrigerator door.

“Not too shabby, squirt”. She glances at the drawing again, and then her gaze shifts towards Isha. For a moment, a soft expression appears in her eyes—a flicker of something you can't quite make sense of. “Who knows? Maybe one day we'll see this piece in a Piltover's museum, valued at a million golden hexes.”

“Only a million? I think it's worth a lot more. Maybe we should start an auction right here and now.”

Isha giggles, her small fingers tracing the colors on her drawing again.

“Alright, alright, don't go getting ideas. We don't need some fancy Piltie art collector trying to buy this and hang it in their mansion.”

“Come on, Jinx,” you nudge her. “Don't you think it'd be hilarious to see this hanging in some fancy mansion surrounded by all those fancy Piltover paintings? Maybe we should get Isha to paint more of this and turn this whole place into a gallery.”

—

You meant ‘place’ not your face.

Laying down on the couch, you squint your eyes open as you feel a moist sensation along your face. When your vision clears, you see Isha, giggling, marker in hand, and running away as fast as her legs can carry her.

“Hey!” You sit up, a chuckle rising in your throat. “You little rascal, come here!”

The sound of a door opening makes you pause. Turning, you see Jinx standing there, half-asleep and clearly irritated.

“What the hell is going on here?” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes.

A snicker escapes Isha's lips.

“Looks like you've got a new makeup look, Jinx.”

“What?” she asks, her voice still groggy from sleep.

Silence.

Jinx looks at your face. Isha's hand. Finally placing her own hand on her face. Wet mark on her face. Smear of color on her hand.

“Isha.”

You and Jinx exchange a glance. Grins matching hers. Without hesitation, you both rush after Isha, who breaks into a run.

Just as she turns a corner, you quickly change direction and outstretch your hands, successfully scooping her up into your arms and spinning her around, her hands grasping at your shirt and arms around your neck as she continues to giggle.

While still holding Isha, you see Jinx's eyes as her hand darts towards a nearby marker and begins to draw on Isha's face.

“Hold still, you little gremlin!” Jinx says, struggling to keep her marker strokes even while Isha wiggles and giggles. She manages to add a few squiggles and dots before Isha's laughter becomes uncontrollable, disrupting any further attempts at ‘decorating’.

“Come on, lemme finish it.” A few more ink-blots make their way onto the girl's face before she's set down. “Ta-da!” Jinx declares, wiping her hands on her pants.

Isha, still giggling, runs to the nearest mirror, who is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she takes in her reflection. She turns her head from side to side, admiring her new ‘makeover’ from Jinx.

Feeling a tingle in your chest, you steal a glance at Jinx, watching her smile at Isha.

Idiot, you silently scold yourself.

But your lips still curve into a small smile.

Damn it, you silently curse to yourself, hoping Jinx didn't notice you staring at her with that expression written all over your face.

But Isha doesn't miss that. She looks between you and Jinx, the gears in her young mind turning, and a sly grin slowly spreads across her face.

Oh. She knows something that you'd prefer to keep hidden.

—

Isha's been down with a cold.

Today, you made her a bowl of porridge. Jinx volunteered to help.

You stand at the stove, stirring the simmering porridge, with Jinx by your side, carefully cutting up some fresh fruit to mix into the meal. You carefully ladle the porridge into a bowl, checking to make sure it's just the right temperature for Isha's sore throat.

You glance down at the bowl, satisfied with the consistency and temperature, before moving it onto a tray along with a spoon, a glass of water, and the bowl of fruit.

You head towards Isha's room, with Jinx following close behind. You can hear the sound of soft coughing coming from inside, along with the rustle of blankets.

Pushing open the door gently, you enter the room to find Isha sitting up in her bed, her blankets piled around her. Her face is slightly flushed from the fever, and she looks a bit tired, but her eyes light up when she sees the tray in your hands.

“Here's your porridge,” you say softly, setting it down on the bedside table.

Jinx moves to the other side of the bed, plopping down next to Isha and gently placing a cool hand against her forehead. “You're still a bit warm.”

Isha nods weakly, trying to suppress a cough.

“But that porridge should help,” you add, settling on the edge of the bed and offering the bowl to Isha. “Slow sips, okay? Don't want you getting a tummy ache on top of everything else.”

Isha accepts the bowl and sips the porridge carefully.

“There you go,” you smile, watching as Isha continues eating. Jinx grabs the glass of water, holding it up to Isha's lips once she's taken a few spoonfuls.

Once she's done, Jinx continues to check on her, fluffing her pillows, adjusting the blankets, and giving her the occasional pat on the head.

—

It's late evening.

Jinx sits cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the footboard of the bed where Isha is lying down. The little girl's eyes are focused on Jinx, her hands covering her face partially as if trying to stay up a bit longer.

Jinx tells a story she learned from Vander, one that he used to tell her when she was a child. A story about miners getting stuck in a mine and rescued by a mysterious, wisp-like woman that guided them to safety.

When Jinx finishes the story, she glances at Isha, expecting her to be asleep by now. Instead, she lies there and watches Jinx.

Peeking through the door, you expect to find Isha asleep, but she is still wide awake. Jinx looks like she's wracking her brain to think of more stories, still determined to get the little girl to sleep.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you settle down on the floor next to Jinx. “She's not tired yet, huh?” you whisper to Jinx.

“No, not yet,” she replies. “I've run out of stories to tell and she doesn't seem even a bit sleepy.”

“She's just like you.”

“Hush,” she says, trying to suppress a smile. “I'm not the one keeping her awake right now.” She turns back to Isha, who is still awake and watching both of you.

“Well, neither of us are helping,” you point out, looking at the little girl who's staring at you both. “Isha, it's time for bed. You need to close your eyes and sleep.”

Isha pouts, clearly not wanting to go to sleep just yet. She looks at Jinx and then at you, her eyes pleading for another story.

“Come on, kid,” Jinx says. “It's well past your bedtime. No more stories.”

Isha’s pout deepens, her bottom lip jutting out stubbornly.

You stand up from the floor, walking over to a nearby bookshelf where you keep various children's books and comics. After a quick rummage, you find a colorful comic book that should interest Isha.

You return to the bed, carrying the comic book, and sit down next to Jinx again. Isha leans forward, her eyes immediately drawn to the book in your hands.

“Found one,” you say, holding up the comic book for the little girl to see. Her eyes light up when she recognizes the vibrant cover.

Flipping open the comic book to the first page, you begin reading aloud about a group of animals in a forest. Isha listens intently, snuggled up in bed, her eyes darting between the images and your face as you read the story.

“Every day, these animals would wake up early,” you read, pointing to the drawing of the animals waking up and stretching. “Some would eat breakfast, some went to play, and some went to search for food.”

“One particularly lazy squirrel woke up late.” You turn over the page to reveal a picture of a sleepy little squirrel yawning and rubbing his eyes as the other animals were already out of their nests.

“By the time he woke up, all the nuts were already gone.” You flip over the page again to reveal an image of the squirrel, now wide awake, frantically searching for something to eat but finding nothing but empty trees and bushes.

“The squirrel was shocked and saddened that the nuts had run. But then,” you change your tone dramatically, “one of the rabbits heard the squirrel's cries and decided to help him!”

You turn the page again. This time, the picture shows the rabbit coming up to the squirrel, a nut in his paw. “The rabbit, seeing the squirrel's plight, decided to share his own breakfast with him.”

“The squirrel was delighted and grateful,” you read, and you turn the page to show an image of the squirrel happily sharing the nut with the rabbit. “The two of them ate and ate together, until their tummies were full and they fell asleep in a heap on the forest floor!”

You glance up from the book and see that Isha has finally fallen asleep. Her small head is now lying on her pillow and a tiny smile graces her lips, as if she were dreaming about the animals from the comic book.

You close the comic book and set it down, but then there's a weight on your shoulder.

Looking to the side, you see Jinx, who has fallen asleep. Her head rests on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your neck. Her eyes closed.Her mouth slightly open, softly snoring.

Still as a statue.

You find yourself staring at the soft curtain of blue hair, your fingers itching to reach out and push it aside.

But you don't. You can't. You don't want to wake her up. Don't move.

It would be a small action, but you know that it might wake her up, and the last thing you want is to deal with a grumpy face and her snarky comment.

But your hand moves as if it has a mind of its own. Inch by inch, your fingers close in until they gently make contact with her hair, brushing it back over her ear.

Jinx lets out a soft sigh, her head leaning into your hand as if aching for your touch.

Her face, now with her bangs brushed aside, shows her features—so fine, so distinctly her.

Your eyes trace her face. You want to hold her in a way that you'll remember forever. You want to know her in every way possible, to learn every inch of her, to understand every thought and feeling she's ever had.

Her arms are the only chains you'd gladly wear. Her eyes in which you'd forever be lost. Her smile is the one you can never say no to. Her voice is the song that you could listen to for hours.

You wonder if she would lean into your touch, if she would arch her head into your palm. Would she let you caress her face, your fingers tracing the slope of her jaw and the curve of her cheek? Or would she pull back, pushing you away?

But as quickly as it began, it ended.

You pull your hand away. Your fingers clenching into a fist and returning to your lap. The memory of her soft hair against your skin remains, burning at the edges of your thoughts.

Then Jinx slowly stirs from her sleep. She lifts her head from your shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours, then your mouth, then back to your eyes again.

You saw her throat move. Are you hallucinating? Is it just your imagination? You can't tell for sure. You wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. Your thoughts are fogged by the way she's looking at you.

Her eyes linger on your face, tracing every contour, every feature.

Your heart is in your throat. You can hear it pulsing in your ears. You can feel your palms getting sweaty. You try to hold her gaze, but your own eyes are drawn to her lips, soft and slightly parted.

Finally, Jinx breaks the silence. “You're staring,” she murmurs.

You blink, her words snapping you out of your trance. “I–” you start to respond, then realize how stupid and obvious it sounded. “Just making sure you didn't drool on me.”

She chuckles, her hand pushing your face away from hers.

“Hey!” you say, putting a palm to your face.

You watch as Jinx stands up, heading towards the door, opening it slightly, and pausing to look back at you.

“Good night,” she says, eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

“Night, Jinx,” you reply, one hand still resting on your face.

You catch a glimpse of a small smile forming on her lips as she disappears through the door, leaving you sitting there with a palm still on your cheek.

You hear a soft, barely suppressed giggle coming from Isha's bed. Confused, you turn to look at her, only to find her looking at you with a wide grin.

“Isha,” you say, surprised, “I thought you were asleep!”

—

“You could have warned me,” Sevika grumbles. Isha continues to focus on coloring her hat.

“Fat chance,” Jinx responds, turning to face Sevika. “About what?”

Sevika glares at her, obviously displeased. “Your stunt at the checkpoint.”

“No idea what you're babbling about.”

“That wasn't you?” she scoffs.

Jinx pauses, a flicker of realization crossing her face. She glances at Isha with a knowing look, noticing the smirk on the child's face.

The conversation with Sevika continues, with Jinx growing more and more restless as it does. Once the discussion is over, Jinx rises from her spot. “I gotta go bother someone,” she says, before walking out.

You notice the look on Isha's face. Disappointment.

“Let's go, Isha,” you say, already grabbing a bat and some small balls. You don’t wait for a response, signaling for her to follow as you head to the door.

—

It's late, the sun having set and the moon now high in the sky. You and Isha had spent the previous hours playing, but Jinx still hasn't returned. Concerned, the two of you look for her.

Isha rides on your shoulder, her small hands gripping your hair. She looks at the surroundings for any sign of Jinx.

After some time walking and climbing, you end up on a rooftop. You both climb carefully, making sure not to fall.

Finally, when perched on the edge, you spot Jinx. She's sitting with her knees against her chest, looking out at Piltover.

You gently place Isha down on the rooftop, giving her a subtle nudge, gesturing towards Jinx. Isha catches your cue, nodding quietly and slowly approaches Jinx.

Isha carefully settled herself down beside her. Her legs dangling off the ledge of the rooftop.

You take a seat on the other side of Isha, settling down with a soft rustle of fabric.

Jinx continues to stare out at the city, her chin resting on her folded arms. “You guys found me, huh?”

Isha shifts her position, moving closer. You notice that she's looking up at Jinx, her small head resting against her arm.

Jinx glances at the child. She reaches over to ruffle Isha's hair affectionately.

“Couldn't stay away.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, “I guess you two are pretty stubborn.”

You reposition yourself, shifting your body so that you can lean back and rest a hand on the cold, gritty rooftop.

Jinx moves herself into a more relaxed position, leaning back and placing her hand on the rooftop next to yours. With her other hand, she pats at Isha, gesturing for the child to lay down.

Isha obliges, her small body now sprawled out across Jinx's lap. She fidgets a bit, clearly beginning to tire.

Watching over the city below while the moon hangs low in the night sky, a familiar touch breaks the silence, fingertips seeking yours.

There's a gentle pressure, a gentle caress, that causes your hand to twitch involuntarily, yet you don't pull away.

Her hand rests on top of yours , claiming its place as if it were always meant to be there. Jinx's fingers gently trace patterns across the back of your hand, almost like a secret language only she understands.

“Your hands are cold,” she continues tracing lazy circles with the pads of her fingers.

You hadn't even realized how cold your hand had felt until she pointed it out, and now it seems to be burning under her touch.

“Ever thought about wearing gloves?”

“Gloves?” you repeat, finding your own voice now.

“Hm, I guess not,” she responds, almost to herself.

Her fingers suddenly stop their tracing, and for a brief moment, you feel disappointed. But she quickly resumes, her thumb now brushing over your wrist, the pulse point.

Jinx glances up at you, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Your pulse is racing. Am I making you nervous?”

“No,” you mutter, though the speed of your pulse likely betrays your words.

“Uh huh,” she says. “You're a terrible liar.” She continues to hold your wrist, thumb now drumming a slow, steady rhythm against your pulse point.

“Relax,” she murmurs, her thumb gently rubbing against your pulse. “I don't bite... much.”

You try to calm your racing heartbeat, but her touch is making it difficult.

“I'm relaxed.”

Isha shifts in Jinx's lap, her body stirring slightly. The sudden movement snaps you out of your trance, both you and Jinx turning your attention towards the girl.

Jinx lifts her free hand and pats Isha’s head reassuringly. Her touch is soft and careful, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl.

With Isha settled, Jinx turns her attention back to you. She still hasn't let go of your wrist, her fingers now massaging little circles into your skin. “You're awfully tense for someone who's ‘relaxed’.”

She studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming your face, then she suddenly releases your hand. The sudden absence of her touch feels like a loss.

Jinx sits back, creating a bit of space between the two of you.

“What's on your mind?”

“Just thinking.”

You frown, frustrated by her vague response. “About what?”

“About you,” she answers.

Her reply catches you off guard. You feel your cheeks warm, and you mentally scold yourself. Why is she having this effect on you?

“Me?” you ask, trying to remain calm.

Jinx glances down at the sleeping Isha, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, and Isha,” she mutters, her hand absently playing with the child's hair.

Her eyes then dart back to you, studying you intently. “Mostly you, though,” she clarifies.

“Uh, me?” you repeat, mentally cursing yourself for sounding like a parrot.

Jinx hums, still absently playing with Isha’s hair.

"What... what about us?"

Jinx doesn't respond right away. Her gaze flicks between you and the sleeping child, as if contemplating something.

“I've got a habit of bringing trouble wherever I go.”

She turns to you, her gaze meeting yours. There's something almost pleading in her eyes, as if she's silently begging you to understand.

“I just-” she begins. “I don't want anything bad to happen to either of you... because of me.”

Her eyes search yours for a moment before she looks down at Isha. “I'm not sure what I'd do if something happened to you… either of you.”

“I care too much,” she blurts out, looking back up at you. “And honestly, it scares me.” There’s a pause as her eyes lock onto yours. You can see her shoulders tense, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want to mess everything up. Everyone I’ve ever cared about has gotten hurt by me, or because of me.”

You ache to pull her into your arms, to soothe the worries that are weighing heavily on her shoulders. It takes every ounce of restraint you have not to. “No,” you murmur softly, shaking your head. “No, I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Isha.”

“You don't know what could happen.”

“Yes, I do,” you murmur. “I know there's a chance we might end up hurt. Or worse.” You take a deep breath, holding her gaze steady with yours. “But that's a risk I'm willing to take,” you continue. “Because being with you, right now, is worth it.”

She opens her mouth as if to protest, but you cut her off with a soft shake of your head. “No. No more talking. You've said what you need to say. Now let me say what I need to say.”

Eyes never leaving hers, you reach out slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to. But she doesn't, and your fingers find their way to her cheek, gently cupping her face.

“I care about you too,” you murmur, your thumb tracing a gentle path over her cheekbone. “I care about the person you are, not just the person you think you are. I see the good in you, the good that you struggle to see in yourself.”

Her lips part, as if to utter another protest, but you gently press a finger to her mouth to silence her. “Let me speak. I'm not done yet.”

“Jinx I know you're afraid,” you continue, your eyes searching hers. “You're terrified of the possibility of me or Isha getting hurt. I understand. But you need to realize,” you pause, your fingers moving from her mouth to her chin, tilting it up gently so that she's looking you fully in the eye.

“You're not a curse,” you say. “You're not a jinx. Bad things happen, but that doesn't mean it's your fault. It’s not your fault—”

“I know.” She trembles under your touch. Her eyes glisten.

“No, listen to me. It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” Despite her best efforts, the dam is beginning to break.

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat. A single tear manages to escape, trickling down her cheek and into your palm. “You were just a child.”

“But I should have known. I should have—They're gone because of me. It's my fault.”

“No, no, no,” you cut her off. “It's not your fault. You were just a child. You were doing what you thought was the best to help them, to protect them.” You gently wipe the tear away with your thumb, your heart aching for her. You can see the battle she's fighting within herself, and it kills you that you can't do more.

“You are not defined by your past, by your mistakes,” you continue, your hand still on her cheek, feeling the slight tremble as she struggles to hold back her tears. “You are so much more than that.”

“You are loved,” you murmur, your fingers gently tracing her jawline, before moving slowly upwards to her temple. “By me, by Isha. And by many more people than you realize.”

For perhaps the first time, Jinx lets herself break. She leans into your touch, her cheek pressing harder against your palm. Her eyes never leave yours, seeking comfort, reassurance. She grips your wrists weakly, her hands trembling. “It's okay, I’m right here.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” you murmur, your thumb tracing small, soothing circles on her cheek. “No matter what happens, you hear me? I'm here to stay. We're here to stay. You're stuck with us.”

Slowly, the tears begin to subside. Her breathing steadies. Her body calming down.

You let your fingers slowly shift from her tear stained cheeks to her hair, gently playing with the strands. “I'll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe,” you continue, your hands moving down to her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I'm not some damsel in distress,” she mutters.

You laugh, leaning back on your hands. “I know you're not,” you assure her. “You'd probably kick my ass if I tried to treat you like one. But even the toughest people need someone to have their backs, right?”

Jinx huffs, though you can see the edges of a smile on her face. “That's a cheesy line,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe,” you admit. “But it's still true. You don't have to face everything alone,” you continue, hoping to drive the point home.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, her hand resuming its gentle stroking of Isha’s hair. “You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”

“And yet?”

Jinx snorts. “And yet somehow... I tolerate you.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Isha mumbles incoherently, shifting slightly.

“Looks like someone's stirring,” Jinx coos.

With one final pat on Jinx's shoulder, you withdraw your hand, silently communicating that the moment is over, for now.

Her shoulders tense slightly at the loss of your touch, disappointment or perhaps longing in her eyes. But she quickly composes herself.

The little girl slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily and looking around disoriented. She rubs one eye with a fist, then glances up as if just realizing that she's in Jinx's lap.

Isha grins brightly when she sees Jinx, her tired eyes lighting up. She wriggles a bit, stretching her limbs and looking surprisingly cheerful despite being woken up.

“I think we should head back. It's getting late.”

Jinx nods, carefully shifting Isha in her arms as she stands up. The child wraps her arms around Jinx's neck, clinging to her like a monkey.

“Alright, kid, time to head home,” Jinx tells Isha, bouncing her up a bit in her arms. The girl giggles and buries her head into the crook of Jinx's neck.

Seeing Jinx like this with Isha is something else. She looks so... soft.

“Ready to go?” Jinx asks, looking at you. Isha wriggles, eager to get going.

You nod, gesturing for them to lead the way. Isha stretches out a hand towards you, wanting to hold onto you too.

“Looks like you've got a fan.”

“Nah, she just likes me that much.”

“That so?” Jinx huffs. “Or is she just using you to get to me?”

“You know she'd choose my company over yours any day,” you say, sticking your tongue out at Jinx.

“Oh, so that's how it is, huh?” She pokes Isha gently in the stomach, causing another giggle from the child. “Traitor,” she mutters under her breath before addressing you again. “I'm wounded, really.”

“You'll survive,” you assure her. “Somehow.”

The warmth of Isha’s grasp on your hand. The giggle that escapes her every time Jinx spins her around. The way Jinx's eyes soften when she looks at the child.

This, you realize, is what home could feel like.

notes: im so excited for act 4 on saturday!

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #arcane x gender neutral reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane isha #isha #jinx and isha #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #jinx imagine

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sweetluna20 · 2 days ago

Note

Paige Bueckers x makeup influencer (kind of like James Charles) and they do makeup on Paige (maybe do a q&a too) or review Christmas advent calendars in a YouTube video

advent calendar ❤️💚❤️💚

paige x reader

“HEYYY GUYSS!!! it’s me y/n and im here with my beautiful, amazing, talented girlfriend, the one ,the only PAIGEEEE BUECKERS!!”

“okay okay that’s enough” paige responds trying to calm both of you down. but that failed miserably causing you both to burst into laughter.

“anyways! today we’re going to open pr packages i’ve gotten from random companies. Oh! paige and i are going to do a Q&A so if anyone wants to ask some questions go for it!”

“just not too many.” paige adds, already seeing the comments flood in.

“okay the first package we have is from Laneige!” and the first question is for paige!” your voice caused paige’s ears to perk up.

“okay so the question is.. what is your favorite thing about me?”

you quickly look at paige and smiled before opening the package.

“umm.. i’d say my favorite thing about y/n is her personality and energy.” “on the internet she has an extroverted personality and a lot of energy, but i’m actuality she’s super shy and introverted. she has such a calm energy and a soothing voice. so i would say that’s my favorite thing about her.” paige stated with a smile with blush covering her cheeks.

you look down at the box, you have the brightest shade of pink on your face and the biggest smile.

“what’cha got there” paige asks looking over your shoulder.

“oh yes, so i have this really adorable laneige box filled with lip products. they have the cute lip balms and masks which are my favorite!” you try your best not to stutter, trying to ignore the warmth in your heart.

“aw you’re so cute” paige teases you

the comments flood in

“ooooo”

“y/n flustereddd”

“i feel so single rn 😭”

“paige come home the kids miss you”

you see that comment and your eye lit up.

“yea paige go home the kids miss you.”

“people these days… jeez” you say shaking your head at the camera .

“alright alright open your packages, since i have to go home to my kids”

by now you’ve opened 5 packages and paige has answered a couple of questions.

you reach for the next box.

your eyes bright up with joy and you have the biggest smile on your face.

“AHHH ITS AN ADVENT CALENDAR!!”

“i love these so much” you exclaimed

wait why?

“uh a comment is asking you why you love them” paige said trying to read it as fast as she could.

“omg yes! i love telling this story!”

“okay so this was back in 2021, paige and i were sophomores. at the time we’ve been going out together for around 3 months. so she took me to this really really nice restaurant in hartford. it was the end of november, like before we went on thanksgiving break. we both came with gifts, i got her a stuffed husky to bring on her trip to remember me.” you start giggling feeling your cheeks becoming more and more flustered.

“and um she got… got me an advent calendar. since we would barely see each other for the month of decmeber, she said that each day i open is a little gift from her.”

“it was my favorite thing in the world. each day i would open it and i would call nika telling her the little surprise i got.”

“ever since then i love getting advent calendars because they remind me of paige.” you smiled looking at the calendar in your lap.

without saying anything paige gave you a big hug and kiss.

“i love you so much” she tells you, with hearts in her eyes.

“i love you too.”

(not my best work, but it’s a new concept for me so i’m trying my best) thank you for the great request 💜

stylist★: @heart4caitlin, @yannasuniverse, @patscorner, @pbno5, @st4rrzynight, @mrsarnold

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #luna’s stories

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cheyisagirlkisser · 2 days ago

Note

can you write a pit fighter vi smut fic where the reader works at a restaurant in zaun and vi comes in drunk and starts flirting with her pretty please 😼

Thank you sm for the request:3 hope you enjoy!

Content: 1.5k words, dub-con (Vi is drunk), casual sex, use of strap-ons (r! recieving), oral sex (r! receiving), slight overstimulation, this is rlly filthy blame anonymous for giving me the ammo to write this

Your hands are busy with several plates and your feet are sore in your shoes. Customers in Zaun have no decorum, either!

Being a waitress is not fun, especially not in a dingy restaurant like "The Sludge Pit." It's where most people are coming back from watching fights next door and want a cheap meal. To say that you hate you job is an understatement. But...money is tight, so choices are limited. It could be worse. You could be a prostitute at Babette's.

You've heard rumors that the fight tonight is going to be huge. There's a recently been a new fighter people have been placing bets on - a girl named Vi. You've heard the name before, of course. Jinx's sister, someone who was involved with a Piltie girl. You hated to get involved with all of the drama in Piltover, though; it was all meaningless. It was all just pointless drama that ended in another person in Zaun getting the short end of the stick or dead without a proper burial. Whatever happened was so hard to care about when it felt like an everyday thing.

However, something about the girl you've been hearing rumors about intrigued you. It is apparently often that this Vi chick is bulldozing men in the ring, getting drunk off her ass, and fucking Babette's whores. She got her heart broken, now she's all bitter, and you can't help but wonder what this girl is even like. What could she possibly be like when she's this well-known in the under-city?

It's around midnight. The fight is over because a huge crowd is occupying The Sludge Pit. You've got your poor hands full, tasked with scribbling down rude men's orders and serving them. Some are fucking creepy, too. You wonder if the Vi girl will be coming in tonight, but your curiosity is suddenly dashed when you hear the restaurant BOOMING with cheers from the main area.

When you walk out of kitchen, the first thing you see is the back left table seated with a black-haired girl. She's got no shirt on, just bandages that hug her body and a leather jacket. Her jeans are tightly fitted, sculpted onto her meaty things. The black pigment on her face is all messy. Next to her is a burly brunette man, facial hair covering most of his face. You've seen him before - "Loris."

When you approach Vi's table, she looks up at you and lets out a slight laugh. You look devourable, your hair back in two braids, fly-aways from the day's work. Your eyes are wide, and you look pretty terrified. Poor waitress. She's already decided that you're gonna be her next slut.

"Hi! I'll be your waitress today, what can I get for you-" Your voice is so shaky, oh fuck.

Usually, Vi wouldn't be so forward, but she just got back from the bar. There's too much liquid courage in her system, so now she's gonna get what she wants.

"Don't worry 'bout me, baby. Get my friend Loris here a burger."

You almost choke on your own spit.

Her voice isn't at all what you expected, not raspy or deep, but actually soft and persuasive. She's slurring her words slightly, but you're too focused on her eyes, the soft blue sparkle in them and the half-lidded, carefree look that is complimentary.

"Uhhh, okay! One burger coming right up!"

You soon come back with a shaky hand, plate in your palm. You set the burger down and look up down, adjusting your waitress skirt.

"One burger!"

Vi gives you a wide, lazy smile. Loris is just laughing, he's probably as drunk as her.

"Thanks, baby. How much will that be?"

"Ohhh....well, it's on the house. Since you won tonight, and all.." All rationale seems to leave you when Vi's calling you baby. Your boss is gonna chew you out for this, but the drunken giggle that leaves her mouth is so worth it.

"On the house? No, baby..c'mon, lemme pay."

You laugh and blow a stray strand of hair out out of your face. Her voice makes you imagine her throwing you around on your bed. "No, really, it's fine.."

"Hm..well, if you're not gonna let me use my money, why don't I pay you back in some other way?"

You stare at her for a second.

"What...?"

She chuckles at the cute but shocked look on your face. "Seriously. I wanna pay you back for the burger, since you're such a cute little waitress.."

She's got you in her twin-sized bed as she pounds into you at a pace you're surprised doesn't break the bed. You look utterly cock-drunk underneath her as her hips slam into yours: eyes practically rolled back into your noggin, whining on each and every thrust she gives your sopping pussy. Fuck, she's already obsessed with you.

Her hands are holding the back of your knees to keep you in position, and she pulls the cock halfway out of your pussy and slams back in, earning herself a wounded squeal from you.

"That's it, baby. Take all of my cock like a good girl," she coos, her eyes moving down to watch the hot-pink silicone disappear in your pretty pussy, and she's almost drooling at the sight.

"P-Please!! Please fuck me, oh my god!" You're screaming for her (soon you'll be creaming), and all Vi can think is how she wants to lick the cum out of your pussy when she's done plowing into you.

She laughs and spreads you legs back so she can hitch them around her own waist, still throwing sloppy thrusts into you. Your legs automatically wrap around her sides and she collapses onto your body, mouth wet and lazy on your throat. She's hardly thrusting now, just grinding up into your cunt like a dog in heat.

"Ohhh, fuckkk...this is the best pussy I've had in so fucking long, did you know that?" She's whimpering like she's not the one slinging strap..

You can't even answer with a proper response, only offering up a broken moan because in this position, the cockhead of the toy is bullying your sweet, spongey spot and making you see stars. By grinding into you, the base of the harness is catching on Vi's clit perfectly, making her her pace grow less and less composed She's fucking you like a touch deprived cave-man, for fuck's sake.

You hear feel her body tense up, and now she's pounding into you, each time your skin connects her body is pressing further into your, grinding her pussy against the harness, making you whine her name.

"You want me to cum inside you, huh? I bet you'd just love that. Wish I actually could cum inside this sweet little pussy." Her words grow more and more deranged the longer she's fucking you, and they send you right over the edge with a gasp and a cry out. For mercy, or for bliss, she isn't able to tell.

You poor legs are shaking around her waist and your voice is chanting her name like a prayer along with cute little cries of "I'm cumming for you, Violet!!" You indeed did cum, your face all flushed and your hips bucking up into hers, making her own cunt clench with need as she hits her own peak. She kisses you to swallow your sweet whines, tongue sliding against yours so you can taste the Vodka on it. She's just rutting into your pussy, and she swears she can feel your walls milking her cock like it's real. The alcohol in her system really does make her delusional.

When she's done, she pulls out of you and throws the strap-on somewhere in the floor, immediately moving down your body to suck the cum out of your tender hole.

You whine and protest, "V-Vi!! Too sensitive!"

She moves her lips to give your clit a firm suck and holds you legs open, "shh, just need to clean you up first.."

Her tongue moves to fuck your pussy as deeply as it can, filling you with the hot, wet muscle, and grazing your overstimulated g-spot until you're begging for mercy and she relented to go swirl around your previously neglected clit.

Her hands are groping your tits, your own tugging at her shitty dye-job as you buck your hips up in the air for more. She doesn't stop, giving you exactly what you want, sucking at your engorged clit and flicking it shamelessly with her tongue.

"Fuckk, V-Vi!! I'm gonna cum again!!"

Your juices paint her face so perfectly, mixing in with her black make-up and making an even bigger mess of your sopping cunt. She pulls back to see your face all red, soft little pants leaving your lips, and your chest heaving like you just ran a marathon. You look perfectly ruined, your hole still wrecked from the cock she fucked you with and your braids messed up into oblivion, but you look satisfied. She really paid you back for that burger, didn't she?

Safe to say, The Sludge Pit is her favorite place to find a meal at.

#vi x fem reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane #cheyisagirlkissermailbox #requests

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bakukags · 2 days ago

Note

hiii i luv your blog!! honestly the 'more then enough' fanfic had my crying lol :)) so i saw your requests were open and was wondering if you could do a bakugou x reader were y/n is bakugou's and deku's childhood friend and they have a lot of trauma bc of their dad who is an ex pro hero becoming a villian when shes in ua and bakugou has always had feelings for her and comforts her when class 1-a sees it on the news. make any changes youd like :))

the 3 things bakugou taught you (bakugou x reader)

summary: As a childhood friend of Bakugou and Deku, you had always dreamed of attending U.A. to train and become heroes together. However, everything turns upside down when Class 1-A discovers that your father, once a former Pro-Hero, has now become a Villain. In the chaos of it all, you find that Bakugou is full of surprises and that there may be more to him than what meets the eye.

pairing: bakugou x female! reader

genre: fluffy angst

warnings: slight swearing

word count: 4,176

a/n: thank you so much for all of your kindness and support <3 my request box is open!! please let me know if y'all would be interested in a part 2 or how I can improve my writing :)

Growing up with Bakugou Katsuki had taught you three things:

Bakugou Katsuki had a temper like a firework - explosive, loud, and colorful.

His bark was somehow worse than his bite.

No matter how grumpy he was, you couldn’t stop smiling around him.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Bakugou grimaced, as you jogged to catch up, an extra bounce in your step. However, he slowed down slightly, allowing you to fall into step with him.

“My dad’s coming home today.” Your grin widened. “I’m going to visit home later today to see him.”

Your father was the pro-hero Aeris, who was known for his air-like attibutes and unique speed. You had also inherited his abilities, and his day-to-day heroism was what first motivated you to enroll into UA alongside Bakugou. Growing up, he had encouraged you to become a hero that not only helps the world, but changes the world for the better.

“Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true.” Whenever he came home from work, he always reminded you of his life motto with a warm smile lighting up his face. “And you my dear, have the most beautiful dream. But you must also be ready to have the strength to pay the price when it comes to fruition.”

From then on, you had resolved that you would do anything to become a hero. You father’s words had inspired you to become someone who would willingly sacrifice yourself in order to fulfill your dreams of saving the world; just like your father. As he rarely came home, you were especially elated on the days he did, today being one of those days.

Bakugou grunted in response, eyeing your chipper expression with thinly veiled annoyance.

“Well stop it. It makes you look stupider than normal.” He grumbled, looking away from your bright smile.

“Mhmm,” You hummed noncommittally, not really listening. The walk back from class had become your guys’ unspoken routine. Ever since the two of you had moved into the dorms, Bakugou always waited after class for you to pack your bag so that the two of you could walk back together. Of course, he’d rather die than admit to you that he was waiting, often making up excuses such as finishing up an assignment or perfectly timing the speed at which he placed his books back into his bag.

“I’ll go with you. To see your father." His tone indicated that it was a non-negotiable statement. You tilted your head, slightly confused. He had never accompanied you before.

“I can’t have an idiot like you wandering around at night.” He clarified, clearing his throat. “You’d be too easy of a target for Villains. It’s almost like you want to get attacked.”

You opened your mouth to point out that you were one of the top 5 students of Class 1-A and that you could handle yourself, thank you very much. However, the words died on your tongue when you caught sight of how his fingers twitched restlessly at his side, at how he was intentionally looking everywhere but at you. Many people wouldn’t pick up on it, but you knew him better than anyone. The signs were were clear - Bakugou Katsuki, of all people, was worried. For you. Your smile widened.

“If you wanted to spend more time with me Katsu, you could’ve just asked.” You teased, laughter bubbling in your voice.

“That’s not, I don’t- stop making things up crazy woman!” He spluttered in response, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Much to Bakugou’s dismay, you continued laughing, causing you to almost miss Izuku falling into step alongside you.

“Hey guys! Good training today, huh?” Izuku exclaimed, smiling at you. You grinned back, nodding excitedly in agreement. Your spirits were still high from your previous conversation with Bakugou. However, upon spotting the freckled boy, Bakugou’s face immediately morphed into a deep scowl. His eyebrows furrowed irritably, but he remained silent.

“Izu!” You grabbed onto his arm, just like you had growing up. “Training was amazing! Did you get a chance to see my practice match? I could hardly believe it - Shoto and I tied!” You chattered incessantly, easily falling into natural conversation with him. The three of you used to always hang out together and you found yourself suddenly missing the green-haired boy’s presence.

“It’s been a while since we’ve hung out!” You continued. “You should join us more often - it’ll be just like old times!"

A pink flush spread across Izuku’s cheeks, trailing down his neck.

“Of-of course, I’d love to!” Izuku stuttered, eyes glancing down at your arms that were still wrapped around his. A faint crackling popping sound, along with the smell of smoked caramel filled the air, causing the both of you to glance at Bakugou. He now had his hands curled into fists, jaw tightly clenched.

“He’s not invited.” Bakugou spat out, eyeing the two of you murderously. Growing up with Bakugou however, made you immune to his violent tendencies. You smiled sweetly in return, letting go of Izuku in favor of placatingly rubbing Bakugou’s arm.

“You’re always invited,” You said to Izuku before raising an eyebrow at Bakugou, daring him to argue. He hissed like a cat baring his teeth, but didn’t protest.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind!” Izuku nodded, eyes flickering between you and Bakugou hesitantly. “You guys must be pretty close now - almost inseperable huh?”

“We’re not.” Bakugou snarled at the same time you chirped “Yup!” The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you let out a laugh, shrugging nonchalantly.

“It’s funny because you guys are total… opposites.” Izuku spoke carefully, glancing at Bakugou as if he was a ticking time bomb ready to explode at any moment. The green-haired boy’s words were true - Bakugou oozed aggression and abrasiveness, while you were all cheerfulness and tact. While Bakugou burned intensely like the sun, you were constant like the moon. Just as bright, but in a different way. After the blonde boy had been kidnapped by Villains, he had refused to talk about the situation to anyone. Everyone had pestered him with countless opinions and questions - except for you. He didn’t need to speak in order for you to know how he felt or understand what he needed. You had spent your whole life learning him, and now, all you had to do was merely stay by his side as an unwavering source of support. The two of you had been attached by the hip ever since.

“His grumpiness adds to the appeal.” You giggled. “Right?” You turned to look up at Bakugou, ready for a classic snarky remark, but your eyes met molten embers instead. Taken by surprise, you tripped, stumbling over your own foot. Two hands immediately reached out to steady you: one belonging to Izuku and the other belonging to Bakugou. The blonde boy let go of you just as quickly as he had touched you, as if your skin had scorched him. However, Izuku’s hand remained, steadying you. You shot him a grateful look.

“Thanks.” You regained your balance with a sheepish smile.

Bakugou’s face darkened as his gaze shifted from yours to Izuku’s hand, which still lingered on your arm. A low growl left his lips as his eyes burned holes into Izuku, who instantly let go.

“So-Sorry! I’m glad you’re okay! I mean-are you okay?” He sputtered, eyes wide.

“She’ll be fine once you leave.” Bakugou spat venomously, a vein bulging out of his forehead. Izuku chuckled uncomfortably while your gaze darted nervously between the two boys, unsettled by the sudden escalation of emotions. The air suddenly felt a little too warm, too tense. In a second Bakugou was moving, stopping only when he stood between you and Izuku, effectively separating the two of you.

“What kind of idiot can’t even get back to the dorms without falling?” Bakugou sharply retorted, nostrils flaring. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” He stalked away, leaving you to direct an apologetic glance at Izuku before following close behind.

“That was rude.” You glanced towards the blonde boy as you struggled to catch up to him.

“Not my fault Deku pissed me off.” He grunted in response.

“And it’s not his fault that you have a short fuse.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

If those words had come out of anyone else, you probably would be slammed against the wall and blasted into oblivion. But you were always the exception. He growled, the sound low and dangerous.

“Not right now, sunshine.” He barked your nickname out like it was a curse, but you knew better than to take him seriously. Your words had struck a little too close to home, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He angrily slammed the door to the dorms open, uncharacteristically propping it open for you.

“Move it. I don’t have all day.” He practically yelled in your ear, causing you to wince. He at least had the decency to look back at you half-apologetically, before lowering his voice to a more suitable volume. “Well? Why aren’t you walking idiot?”

“Thanks, I think?” You shrugged, hesitantly walking through the door. “But you really got to tone it down Katsu, I me-”

The words caught in your throat. You froze, causing Bakugou to ram right into you.

“What the hell sunshine? What kind of idiot stands in the middle of the doorway?” He barked, but you didn’t respond. Your eyes were glued to the television, trained on the newscaster Miyagi who imparted the breaking headlines for today.

“Breaking news - A Pro-Hero has turned out to be a Villain? You heard it here folks, Ex Pro-Hero Aeris was found injuring several innocent children just this afternoon. It appears he has been secretly working alongside the League of Villains as an undercover agent.”

The screen cut, and suddenly, footage of a man filled the TV screen. His grin looked borderline crazed, an unknown murderous glint flooding his eyes. Two heros held him down as he struggled against them, handcuffs digging into his wrists.

Your legs gave out, and you stumbled backwards. Somebody immediately caught you, muttering something into your ear, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from the screen. All you could see was your father’s deranged expression flooding the screen.

“No.” You whispered, eyes peeled on the TV, arms trembling. “No. This can’t be real.”

"How could you do this?” A civilian yelled at the ex Pro-hero, angry tears blurring her features. “Don’t you have a child too? A daughter?”

All eyes turned to you, the dorm falling impossibly silent. This couldn’t be happening. Your whole world was collapsing, right in front of your eyes. Your arm reached outwards in attempts to grab onto something, anything, that could ground you. A warm hand enveloped yours immediately. You latched onto it, squeezing tightly. Something deep inside of you knew that you should look tear your eyes from the screen, but you for some twisted reason, you couldn’t. You needed to know more. You needed to know why.

Your father stopped struggling, finally allowing the heros to usher him into a police car.

“So?” Your father shrugged. His posture suddenly looked eerily calm and nonchalant, but his eyes remained dark. Frenzied, yet disturbedly content. He looked stared right into the camera. At you. “Why would I care? I never considered her to be my daughter anyways.”

Those words were all it took to send you spiraling. The walls closed in on you, trapping you, until suddenly, it was impossible to breathe. Your whole life was a lie. The person you had always looked up to in life, the person responsible for your existence, had just revealed that he never truly cared if you existed. You thought back to your childhood. He had taught you how to ride a bike, how to cook chicken marsala, how to use your powers for good. He had been your sole role model, had shaped you into the person you were today, and now he was-

Happy are those who dream dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true.

Your dad’s life motto rang in your mind unbidden, yet it no longer sounded like encouragement. It sounded like a threat.

Are you happy? You wanted to ask him. Was the price worth it? Was betaying me, betraying the world worth it? Even though the questions screamed inside your head, you knew you didn’t want to hear their answers. A part of you knew what his response would be and hated it.

“It’s a trick.” You whispered, still in denial. A tear tricked down your cheek; you barely felt it. Your voice grew louder, more insistent.

“They’re lying. They have to be lying!” The words rang in the room, sharp and empty. A gust of wind rushed surrounded you as your face twisted with fury. Your classmates stared back at you, speechless. You had always been the calm and collected one, the one to rein Bakugou in whenever he exploded. But the roles had suddenly reversed, and suddenly you were the one bubbling over, about to explode. They had never seen you like this before - all seething, abrasive, aggressive. Even you had never felt this way before.

“It’s really a shame,” Mineta was the first to speak up. “that your father is a criminal. I mean, you’d think even criminals love their daughters-”

Before anyone could even blink, you were across the room, slamming Mineta hard against the wall.

“Say it again.” You growled dangerously, hands wrapped around his throat. A couple classmates tried to intervene, only to be blown back by a harsh gust of wind.

“It’s a pity. You’re so pretty, but I guess even you have violent tendencies.” Mineta sneered, wheezing when you tightened your grip around his neck. “It makes sense though. Like father, like daughter. ”

His words crawled along your skin and you instantly dropped him. He spluttered, leering as you backed away. All your life, you had been proud to be called your father’s daughter. But now, you felt nothing but a wave of shame and disgust. You looked up at your classmates. They all stared back with stiff postures and raised defenses. As if they too, thought that you would become a Villain. Blinking back tears, you did the only thing you could do. You ran.

You ran until your lungs nearly gave out, until nausea overwhelmed you. Gripping the edges of a nearby trash can, you emptied out all of the contents of today’s lunch. Your body trembled as you fell to the floor, pulling your knees in. The sound of stomping echoed in the halls, loud and harsh. Bakugou. Your stomach churned; he was the last person you wanted to see.

“Go away.” You growled, torn between wanting to be left alone and being too drained to run away. He ignored you, like he usually did, but this time it made you furious. Why couldn’t he just listen to you, just take you seriously for once?

“I told you to go away Bakugou Katsuki!” The words were icy cold and you heard the stomping pause for a moment. All your life, even when you both got into disagreements, you had never once called him by his full name before. Yet for some reason, you couldn’t let him see you like this - embarassingly weak and pathetic.

“What are you, my mother?” He retorted. The footsteps continued again, until he was soon towering over you. “Don’t call me that - shit’s weird.”

“I mean it.” Your words were coated with venom. You refused to look at him. “Leave me alone.”

Bakugou ignored you again, choosing instead to take a seat next to you.

“When have I ever listened to you?” He scoffed. “Don’t expect me to start now.”

You didn’t reply, curling deeper into a ball instead. The two of you sat in silence for several moments. The longer you sat, the more it all sank in. Your whole life had been a sick and twisted lie - how could you even start to separate the fiction from reality? Your breathing started to grow more ragged as you spiraled further, your throat tightening. You watched as your vision grew more and more blurry, until a choked sob ripped free from your chest. Hiding your head in your knees, you finally let the tears pour down your cheeks, let your shoulders shake from the sobs.

You felt a hand grab yours, the same hand that had wrapped around yours earlier in the dorms. Bakugou silently pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a tentative hug. Immediately you burrowed yourself into his broad chest, finding comfort in the way he held you closer to him, as if his arms could protect you from reality.

“I don’t even know,” You murmured, breath hitching. “what to believe anymore. If he raised me to be like him, then maybe I’m-” A villain too. You swallowed the words back into your throat, but they still hung in the air, unspoken. Another sob wracked through your chest, causing Bakugou’s grip on you to tighten. You stayed like that for a while, seconds passing into minutes. As the blonde boy tentatively rubbed soothing circles into your back, you couldn’t help the incredulous laugh bubbling alongside your sobs - Bakugou being calm and soothing? Your life was definitely falling apart.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re obviously not a villain.” He spoke with absolute certainty, as if he was merely stating a fact, like how the sky was blue or the grass green.

“You can’t know that.” You murmured, remembering the way you had nearly strangled Mineta, the way your classmates had all stared at you afterwards. “Mineta-”

“Is taken care of.” Bakugou’s chest rumbled as he cut you off, tone menacing. “He’ll no longer have the audacity to look at you, let alone even speak to you. Neither will the others. I’ve made damn sure of it myself.”

Warmth spread throughout your stomach, rising up into your chest and onto your cheeks. You hid your flushed face further into his shirt. You opened your mouth to protest-

“Don’t even start sunshine.” Bakugou interjected, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You were upset and Mineta had a shitty attitude. If anything, he deserved it.”

You let out a watery chuckle. Only Bakugou would justify nearly strangling someone. As if sensing your upcoming retort, he spoke again.

“You didn’t hurt anyone. And you never will because…” He paused, eyes trained at the wall above your head. The following words sounded like they were being ripped from him against his will. “you’re one of the good ones, alright? Why else would I spend so much time with you? It’d be embarassing, ya know?”

You understood what he was trying to say. Bakugou always needed the best of the best, in every aspect. Which meant that whatever he chose to do or whoever he chose to spend time with, all of it had to be good. The best, in every sense of the word. After all, it’d be embarassing to him if it wasn’t. He’d view it as an unforgiveable slight towards his perfectionistic tendencies.

“Thank you Katsu.” You breathed in deeply, his signature smell of ashy caramel and fresh pine filling your nose, relaxing your limbs. You weren’t quite sure how you had gotten here, how you had somehow managed to slip in between the cracks of his impossibly high standards. You certainly didn’t feel like the best and you weren’t even sure if you believed his words, but they somehow still brought you comfort. At least you knew that someone in your life was raw and real. It had always been that way with Bakugou - what you saw was what you got.

"It’s nothing.” He huffed, but you caught a hint of a smile on his lips. Moving his hands upwards, he started playing with your hair, his touch oddly gentle.

It wasn’t nothing, but you didn’t have the strength to argue. Instead, you silently accepted the bottle of water he was offering to you. After muttering a soft thanks, you allowed the liquid to coat your dry tongue while matching the sounds of his even breathing with your own. And as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, you felt something in the air shift. For the first time, you noticed the fluttering in your stomach; the racing of your heart. You wondered if Bakugou felt it too.

The blonde boy eyed the window, watching as the rain started to pour down, droplets splattering across the glass. The sound was soothing, melding perfectly with the melody of our matched breaths.

“I like the rain.” You said, tilting your face slightly toward the window.

He snorted. “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You like everything.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s annoying.”

“Not everything.” You protested, shifting your body.

“Well, you like me.” He joked, all bravado. You stilled. One moment passed, then two.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Bakugou paused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. A faint crackling pop echoed in the hallway. “I only meant who wouldn’t like m-”

“I do.” The confession blurts out of your mouth before you can even think. “Like you I mean.”

Maybe your defenses were lowered because of the constant crying. Or maybe it was because of the way he was gazing at you now - like you were something precious, something so beautiful that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even for a second.

“Took you long enough to catch on.” He swallowed, nonchalance forced into his voice. Another pop echoed in the hall. You stifled a grin as he forcefully stuffed his sparking palms into his pockets to hide them. A moment passed before your eyes widened as you connected the dots.

“For how long?” You breathed, voice catching in your throat.

“Too long.” He said gruffly, keeping it vague. “A snail moves at a faster pace than you.”

A laugh made it’s way out of your throat. “You could’ve said something!”

“That’s lame,” He huffed. “and you know it. But since we’re already on this topic, Deku better stay the hell away from you now that-”

You kissed the edge of his lips, partly to shut him up and partly because you could. He instantly froze, a shade of red rising up his neck.

“If you’re gonna do that.” He whispered, the sound deep and husky. “Then do it right.”

He yanked you towards him, the move rugged and harsh, pulling your mouths together. Kissing him was like a smoldering fire - hot, burning, and intense. His arms pulled you closer, and you wanted more of this, more of him. He kissed you like a starving man tasting bread for the first time, and when you pulled away, he groaned reluctantly, chest gasping for air. You caught his gaze and held it, a brief moment of understanding passing between the two of you. And for the first time, you knew that despite everything, you were going to be okay.

A smile crept it’s way onto your face, the way it always tended to whenever Bakugou was present. In your head, you found yourself unconsciously amending the list of things you had learned about Bakugou over the years:

Bakugou Katsuki had a temper like a firework - explosive, loud, and colorful. But when the time called for it, he could also be gentle, quiet, and fiercely protective.

Although his bark was somehow worse than his bite, when it came to you, he had no problems following through with his bite. After all, he was an excellent kisser.

No matter how grumpy he was, you couldn’t stop smiling around him. You still weren’t quite sure why yet, but you did know one thing for certain.

Through thick and thin, through the lies and the villains, Bakugou Katuski would always be there for you. He might be abrasive and biting. He might be aggressive and impulsive. But he was also solid and real. He was true to his word and below all those layers, he was inconceivably, irrevocably good. And of course, most importantly - he was most definitely all yours.

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stickylizardcave · 3 days ago

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longass kingleader au comic rough

gonna be under the cut bc hrhs its 48 panels long and i dont have the script ON the panels. I've been calling this the Codemaster AU (cause it's like half inspired by Chez's Gamemaster Kinger) but also I'm not sold on that name but also also I have literally no other idea for it bc this literally only exists for this one comic lmaooo;; I have nothing else planned

(1) CAINE: -and there will be a grand prize waiting for you! (2) CAINE: When you get ba-[STATIC BUZZ] (3) POMNI: ...Caine? What was- (4) CAINE: Nothing to worry about! Off you go!

(9) CAINE: ...Kinger? (10) KINGER: Caine? What are you doing here so late? (11) CAINE: I...am experiencing a problem, and I need your assistance.

(12) KINGER: Oh dear...Is this what happened to you earlier? CAINE: Yes. It has been...not pleasant. And occurring more frequently. (14) KINGER: Well, it's not a virus, at least as far as I can see. Nor a hack since your firewall would pick that up first. Strange that it's glitching your model like this...I may need to see your code directly. CAINE: That's fine.

(16) KINGER: Execute command code. Admin request. Profile Kinger. Password GLTC-G05WX. (17) CAINE: ...Access granted.

(25) KINGER: Found it. (26) CAINE: What is it? KINGER: You have a bit of a looping statement that's self-updating, but causing a leak. It's iterated itself to gibberish at this point. (27) CAINE: So it should be an easy fix... KINGER: I'll need to look through the backlogs to make sure I get it all, but yes. Just a small patch.

(28) CAINE: Such a simple thing to affect me so much...how humiliating. KINGER: It's been going on unnoticed for a while now. With everything that's happened recently, you've been working overtime and it finally caught up to you, that's all. No shame in it. Would you like me to cycle you down for the update? CAINE: If you would be so kind, my dear. (29) KINGER: I'll put the Circus in stasis, don't worry. (30) KINGER: Execute command. Rest mode.

(38) KINGER: Welcome back. How are you feeling? CAINE: Much better, my dear. KINGER: That's good to hear. I want to make sure the clean-up didn't mess with anything important. Would you mind running a diagnostic?

(41) CAINE: Scans came back clear. Thank you very much, my dear! KINGER: It's never a problem, old friend. (42) KINGER: Now then, it's late and I think it's time for me to sleep. (43) KINGER: Execute command. Remove admin permissions from Profile Kinger.

(44) CAINE: Accepted. Executing... (45) KINGER: What are you doing? CAINE: Getting more comfortable, of course.

(47) KINGER: You don't need to stay here, you know. I'll be alright. CAINE: Nonsense, you stayed with me until I woke, it's only fair to do the same for you! KINGER: If you insist... CAINE: I do! Now, off to sleep you go. I have a grand adventure to plan for tomorrow. KINGER: Ha, alright. Goodnight, Caine. CAINE: Goodnight, my dear Kinger.

#tadc kinger #kingleader #royalteeth #tadc caine #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc au #codemaster au #alors art #the script is probably a little whack but whatever. ive been awake for almost 24hrs at this point;;;#ive got a couple of other details for this au but yeah thats basically it there is no further story other than Old Men Yaoi times #gif /#admin kinger au

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mephisto-reporting · 10 hours ago

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Hearbreak Anniversary with Rafayel

Summary: It was your anniversary with Rafayel. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Rafayel Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Content Warning: Fear of abandonment, self worth issues, angst, hurt and slight comfort, Rafayel grovelling, Rafayel POV

The soft glow of the sunset filtered through the gauzy curtains of Rafayel’s studio, painting the space in warm hues of gold and orange. The place smelled faintly of him—a mix of turpentine, salt, and the faint trace of his cologne. You had spent hours here today, your hands busy arranging the decorations you’d so carefully prepared for this special occasion. Sea shells, shimmering like iridescent pearls, lined the edges of the room, their opalescent beauty a nod to the ocean he once called home. Candles flickered softly on every surface, their flames dancing to an unseen rhythm. You’d even managed to find strands of silken seaweed and glass ornaments, hoping to evoke the beauty of his heritage, the beauty of him.

Every corner of his art studio had been dusted, tidied, and then transformed with touches of magic, warmth, and care. You even placed the tiny trinkets and mementos you had kept from your shared moments—little souvenirs from your adventures together, knickknacks that held meaning between the two of you. You wanted him to feel at home, to feel the same sense of belonging that you had with him. You even wore your best clothes, the ones he had once complimented.

Today was your first anniversary. The thought alone sent your heart fluttering, and you’d poured all that love into this space, into this moment.

A few months ago he had told you this was just another day for him. A god’s sense of time was different, fleeting, perhaps even insignificant. But to you, it meant everything. It was a celebration of love that had somehow defied the odds—of a mortal heart tangled with one belonging to something far greater. So you ignored the whispering doubts that crept into the back of your mind, choosing instead to focus on trust. Rafayel had chosen you, not her. No matter how many stories tied them together, no matter the whispered inevitability of their connection, he had assured you. It was you he loved now.

But as the hours passed, that fragile trust began to tremble.

You sat in the chair by the window, smoothing down the dress you’d picked especially for today. Time crawled. The soft golden light of day gave way to a dark, yawning sky, and still, Rafayel didn’t come home. The anniversary dinner, meticulously prepared and carefully plated, sat untouched on the table. Each tick of the clock became a cruel reminder of his absence.

Worry gnawed at you. What if something had happened to him? Perhaps the art sale ran late, or he was caught up with his patrons. But he always came back home, right?

Your heart twisted as you reached for your phone, dialing a number you didn’t want to use but needed to.

“Thomas?” you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

“Oh, hey,” Rafayel’s manager greeted casually. “Everything okay?”

“Is Rafayel still at the sale?” You tried to keep the panic from seeping into your tone, but the silence on the other end was damning.

“Uh… no, he left hours ago. Said he was going to grab dinner. Lina was with him.”

Your grip tightened on the phone, your knuckles turning white.

Lina.

The name struck like a knife.

“Thanks, Thomas,” you whispered, hanging up before he could ask anything more.

You sat there, staring at the flickering candles, their light casting long shadows across the studio walls. He was with Lina. On your anniversary. You had trusted him, convinced yourself that you were enough despite the insecurities that had clawed at your heart since the day you met him.

But now, they came roaring to life.

You had known, of course, who Lina was. She was the one linked to the sea god, his past, his history—his heart. You tried not to let it affect you, tried to bury the insecurities that rose whenever she came up in conversation. Rafayel always assured you there was nothing between them. But then why was he with her, of all people, on your anniversary?

Tears blurred your vision as your chest tightened painfully. Lina.

She was everything you were not. Strong, beautiful, a part of Rafayel’s past, his first love. How could you compete with that? How could you compete with someone who had shared so much more with him, someone whose bond with him was carved in the very fabric of his existence? She was a part of him, woven into the his story, while you were… just someone who had stumbled into his life, someone insignificant in comparison.

Lina... The woman who was forever tied to his past. The sea god's bride. The one he’d loved for so long, the one who had always been there, time after time. You had told yourself, time and time again, that it was nothing. That Rafayel was different with you. He had assured you that there was nothing between them anymore.

But if it’s nothing, why is he with her now? On our day.

Your fingers trembled as you held the phone to your ear, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to ask any more questions. The answers were irrelevant now. His absence, her presence, they were all you needed to know.

Tears pooled at the edges of your vision before spilling over, streaking your face like tiny rivers tracing paths through dusted cheeks. It wasn’t fair. Nothing felt fair. He had promised you. He had promised. But promises were like ocean tides, weren’t they? Sweeping away whatever they could, leaving only bits of broken shells behind.

Lina was everything you could never be. She was strong, beautiful, powerful—everything that Rafayel deserved. She had the sea god’s heart, had always had it, and here you were, just a fleeting ripple on the surface, barely a mark to him. She was woven into the fabric of his past, his future. What are you to him? What have you ever been?

The memories of your relationship, the quiet moments of closeness, the laughter shared under the soft, flickering light of his candles, all those moments seemed so... fragile now. Fragile and fleeting. You were nobody. Just a distraction, a place holder. Nothing more.

You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor like the scratch of claws on stone. The studio, his studio, filled with remnants of him, was suffocating. His scent lingered in the air, the faint trace of his cologne mixing with the oils and paints scattered everywhere. His taste still clung to your lips from the last time you’d kissed him, the memories of his touch branded into your skin. It was all too much. Too much. The studio, so full of him, was now a suffocating reminder of what you had lost. You didn’t want to stay. You couldn’t.

You tried to hold the tears back, but it was useless. Every doubt, every fear you’d bottled up over the months came crashing down, drowning you in their suffocating weight.

This wasn’t love. This was a cruel game, one you couldn’t win.

You couldn’t breathe. You had to get out.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, carrying you toward the door. The wind hit your face the moment you stepped outside, cool and biting, but it wasn’t enough to quell the storm raging inside you.

You ran.

The streets blurred into one indistinct smear of light and shadow as you ran aimlessly, your feet pounding against the pavement, carrying you farther and farther from that studio. From him.

Eventually, the pavement gave way to sand, and the sharp tang of the ocean filled the air. The moon hung high above, casting a silver glow over the beach. Your chest heaved, your lungs burning as you collapsed onto the sand, letting the waves crash against the shore in a soothing rhythm that mocked your turmoil. You kept running, further and further away from whitesand bay, along the beach.

You stumbled, falling to your knees in the sand, clutching your arms around yourself. Your chest heaved as the tears fell freely, the sound of the ocean mixing with your sobs. Lina. You could picture them together, her hand in his, the same way they had been for so many years before you. The seagulls cried above you, indifferent to your pain. And in that moment, you realized that the world didn’t stop for you. It never had. You stared out at the endless sea, the dark horizon stretching in front of you.

How could I have been so blind?

The waves crashed against the shore, each one louder than the last. You are nothing to him. The thought echoed in your mind over and over, relentless, until you could barely breathe under the weight of it.

And just when you thought the world couldn’t get any colder, the tears started again. They fell freely now, salt mixing with the salt of the sea.

You had wanted to be enough. But maybe that was a joke after all. But even as your body trembled with the weight of the heartbreak, you knew one thing: You could never go back. Not to him, not to that studio, not to any of it. You were just a wave, crashing onto the shore, and he was the sea god.

The night wrapped itself around you like a suffocating blanket. The cold air bit into your skin, but it wasn’t enough to numb the ache clawing at your chest. Each crashing wave seemed to echo the bitter truth you couldn’t escape: you were never going to be enough for him. You curled tighter into yourself, trembling as the tears continued to flow. The sand clung to your dress, to your damp hands, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The world had narrowed to the storm raging inside you—a tempest of betrayal, doubt, and misery.

The sharp chill of the ocean breeze whipped your hair against your tear-streaked face, but it was nothing compared to the icy grip of despair coiling around your heart. Every promise he’d made, every word of reassurance, felt like shards of glass now, cutting into the fragile hope you’d built. The waves surged closer, the cold spray dotting your skin. Your sobs mixed with the crashing tide, swallowed up by the vast, indifferent sea.

You hugged yourself tightly, your body shaking as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. Yet, you stayed there, rooted to the spot, as if the ocean could somehow wash away the ache inside you. But no wave could reach that far, no tide could touch the place where your heart ached. You wanted to scream, to shout at the world for the injustice of it all, but the air in your lungs wouldn’t let you. You were too small for this world, too insignificant for him. You would never be the sea. You were just a small wave, lost in the expanse of the tide.

Rafayel’s POV

The door to the studio swung open, and Rafayel stepped inside, laughter trailing after him. “You should’ve seen the look on that shopkeeper’s face when I said we’d take both cakes,” he said, his voice warm and light. He turned to Lina, who chuckled softly as she followed him, holding one of the carefully boxed pastries. “He probably thought we were insane.”

Rafayel kicked the door shut behind him, balancing his own box of confections, his grin still in place. “I can’t wait to see my cutie’s face when she tries these. She’s going to love them.”

But the moment his gaze swept across the room, his laughter faltered and then stopped entirely.

The studio was transformed. Soft candlelight flickered, casting golden hues across the walls. Seashells glimmered like scattered pearls, carefully arranged along the edges of the space. Strands of delicate seaweed draped like garlands, their green silkiness catching the light. Trinkets, small but unmistakably meaningful, dotted the surfaces—each one an ode to moments he had shared with you. The table was set with plates of untouched food, lovingly prepared, and the air held a faint, tantalizing aroma that now felt unbearably heavy.

He froze, the pastry box slipping slightly in his grip. His throat tightened as his eyes roved over every detail, taking in the love and care you had poured into the space. The decorations, the mementos, the effort—it was overwhelming.

“Rafayel?” Lina’s voice broke through the silence. She stepped forward, her brows knitting in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” His voice cracked, and he set the box down on the nearest surface with trembling hands. “I fucked up,” he whispered, barely audible. His fingers grazed one of the seashells, its surface smooth and cool. He trailed his hand over a string of seaweed, the soft texture almost mocking him. “I fucked up bad.”

Lina’s concern deepened. “What are you talking about?”

Rafayel turned toward her, his expression stricken. “The anniversary. Our anniversary. It slipped my mind.” His voice was a low, shaky whisper as he glanced back at the table, the untouched plates, the flickering candles. “She did all of this… for me. For us.”

He called out your name, his voice echoing through the space. “Are you here? Cutie?” His steps quickened as he moved through the studio, searching. The bathroom. The bedroom. The small corner where you sometimes curled up to read. “Are you asleep?” he called, though he knew better. Each empty room was another blow to his gut.

Panic clawed at him as he returned to the main room, his gaze darting to the table again, the small trinkets, the soft glow of candles still burning. The room felt haunted, filled with the ghost of your hope and effort.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Thomas.

“Thomas, did she—did she say anything to you? Did she mention where she might go?” Rafayel’s voice was taut with desperation.

Thomas hesitated. “She called me earlier. She asked if you were still at the sale. That’s all she said.”

The weight of Thomas’s words slammed into Rafayel like a wave. You’d called, searching for him, only to learn the truth he had tried to ignore. It had slipped his mind completely. He didn’t know you were setting all of this up. For him. For the both of you.

“Thanks,” Rafayel muttered, ending the call and immediately dialing your number. He paced the studio, his heart racing as the line rang once… twice… three times—

And then he heard it. The faint buzz of your phone, abandoned on the sofa near the window.

“Shit!” Rafayel cursed, grabbing the device and staring at the darkened screen as if it could offer him answers. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He collapsed onto the chair you had once sat in, his head in his hands. Where were you? His gaze drifted to the table again, the untouched dinner, the carefully arranged decorations.

How could he have been so blind? So careless? You had given him everything, and he… he had been too wrapped up in himself, too foolish to see what truly mattered.

Lina hesitated before taking a few careful steps toward Rafayel, watching his every move with growing concern. She’d never seen him like this before. His usual confident, almost cocky demeanor had vanished, leaving only raw distress in its place. He sat slumped in the chair, his phone clutched tightly in his hands, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.

"Rafayel..." she began softly, her voice gentle but concerned. "What’s going on? What happened?"

Her hand brushed against his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but the instant her fingers made contact with his skin, he flinched as though struck. His body jerked back, his eyes flashing with something wild—something dangerous. His eyes, usually a mischievous swirl of pink and blue, flared into a startling, unearthly bright blue before he clenched them shut, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he pulled away, his fists curling. “Lina, I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He forced himself to inhale deeply, reigning in his emotions as the scales receded and his eyes returned to their usual hue. “I’m fine,” he lied, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I just... I need to find her.”

Lina’s hand hovered uncertainly before falling back to her side. “Rafayel,” she began gently, “her phone’s here. Her purse. Even her car keys. Where could she have gone?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, the sharpness in his voice born of self-directed frustration. “And that’s what’s driving me insane.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if the pain could ground him. “She’s out there somewhere, without her coat, without her phone... and it’s freezing tonight.”

Lina straightened, crossing her arms. “Then let me help—”

“No.” His interruption was immediate, his tone brooking no argument. He turned to her, his expression pained but resolute. “This is my fault. I need to fix this myself.”

“But—”

“Please, Lina,” he cut in, softer this time. “If she’s out there, you’ll hear from me. Just… if you see her, let me know. But I have to do this alone.”

After a long, hesitant pause, Lina relented, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. But don’t do anything reckless. I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I find anything.”

Rafayel nodded, murmuring his thanks before grabbing his coat and storming out into the night.

The cold air bit at his face as he ran through the streets, his breath forming short puffs in the frigid night. He clutched his phone tightly, the screen glowing as he swiped to a recent photo of you, showing it to every passerby he stopped.

“Have you seen her?” he asked a bewildered man on the corner. “This woman? Please—it’s urgent.”

The man shook his head, muttering an apology before hurrying off. Rafayel grit his teeth, suppressing the wave of panic threatening to consume him. Where are you?

The thought repeated like a drumbeat as he made his way to the beach. The icy wind off the water made him shiver, but he pressed forward, searching desperately. He called your neighbor, pacing along the shoreline as he waited for an answer.

The voice on the other end was soft, a little worried. “No... the lights are off. The door’s locked. I haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

His heart skipped a beat, the silence that followed pressing like a weight on his chest. Where were you? Where could you have gone? You were working so hard fore him, for the both of you since the afternoon and he wasn’t even there to experience it with you together. He could imagine it, the smile on your face as you placed those shells, the excitement in your movements as you cooked his favorite food. His eyes darted to the horizon, a dark line of water stretching out before him, and his legs moved faster, pushing him toward the shore, toward the place where you sometimes went to escape.

The beach was empty when he arrived, the wind biting at his skin, the waves crashing softly against the sand. He scanned the shoreline, dread filling him as he searched. There was no sign of you, but his heart refused to let go of the hope that you might be here.

He walked for what felt like hours, the weight of the cold creeping into his bones as the night deepened. The autumn air turned chillier, the first hints of winter brushing against his skin. You hadn’t taken your coat. You hadn’t taken anything. What was he thinking? You’d never leave without saying something. So why was he—

His breath hitched as his gaze landed on something ahead. A small lump on the sand.

His heart stopped, the world narrowing down to that single, fragile form crumpled against the cold ground.

“No!” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. He ran towards you, his legs moving faster than they ever had before, fear propelling him forward. His feet barely touching the ground as he pushed forward, his every step frantic. He reached you within seconds, his pulse hammering in his ears. He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he gently touched your shoulder.

“Cutie?” he called, his voice cracking. His knees hit the sand as he reached you, and his heart twisted painfully at the sight. You were curled in on yourself, your arms hugging your knees, your face hidden. Tear tracks glistened on your cheeks, even in the dim moonlight, and your body trembled from the cold.

“Shit,” Rafayel hissed, his voice barely a whisper as panic surged again. You were cold, so cold. Damp from the wet sand, your skin pale as if the very life had been drained from you. He pulled off his jacket, draping it around you as gently as he could, his hands still shaking.

Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I see how badly she needed me?

He slid his arms around you, his heart aching as he pulled you into his lap, cradling you as though you might break into a thousand pieces. He brushed the strands of hair from your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he whispered your name over and over, praying that you would wake up. That you would hear him. “Fuck,” he breathed, feeling a wave of guilt crash over him. “What did I do? What the hell did I do…”

But he couldn’t. Not now. Now, all he could do was hold you, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he rocked gently, trying to warm you, trying to make everything okay.

“I’m here, okay? I’m here. I’m so sorry, cutie.” he whispered, his voice breaking. His mind raced, but nothing could erase the hollow ache in his chest. The thought of losing you, of failing you—he couldn’t bear it. He wouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words tumbling from him like a confession he had never intended to make. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I messed this up, I—I’m here now.”

He clutched you tighter, trembling with the weight of his regret. The wind cut through the beach, but he barely noticed, too consumed by the sight of you—so still, so fragile, in his arms. His mind raced, scrambling for something, anything, to fix this

Your eyes fluttered open weakly, barely meeting his. You were too exhausted to respond, your body utterly spent.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice unsteady as he gently tucked his coat tighter around you. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry.” His thumb brushed the tear-streaked curve of your cheek, his chest aching at the evidence of your heartbreak. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s too cold...not like this. Not alone,” Rafayel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands trembled as he tried to warm you, his arms sheltering you from the relentless chill of the wind. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—” He broke off, his throat tightening painfully. Words felt so useless now, but he couldn’t stop them. He needed you to know. “I’m the biggest idiot in the world. I forgot something so important, something that should’ve been at the center of my mind.” His arms slipped beneath you, lifting you effortlessly despite your protests—if there were any.

Your lips moved faintly, but the sound was lost in the cold wind. He leaned closer, his ear near your mouth. “What is it? I’m here. Please... say something.”

“I thought... maybe you'd care,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The words struck him harder than any physical blow ever could. He felt the sting in his chest, his breath hitching as guilt twisted the knife deeper.

“I do care!” he exclaimed, his voice desperate. “More than anything. I was just... I was so caught up in everything else, and I—I didn’t realize how much you needed me. How much you’ve always been there for me. I messed up, cutie. I know I did.”

You shivered against him, and he shifted to shield you better from the biting wind. “Let me take you home,” he pleaded, his voice softer now. “We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond, and his heart hammered in his chest. Finally, you gave the faintest of nods, your head resting against his chest. You shivered in his arms, your eyes fluttering shut again, too drained to muster a response. Panic surged in Rafayel as he felt how cold your skin was against his. He shifted, standing with you carefully cradled in his arms, his coat wrapped tightly around you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice urgent but soft. “I need you to hold on, okay? Just a little longer. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” He pressed his cheek to your temple for a moment, as though the simple touch might reassure you—and himself—that you were still here with him.

Rafayel didn’t waste a second. He scooped you up gently, careful not to jostle you. The warmth of his jacket wrapped around your frame and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seemed to soothe some of the tension in your body. He murmured quiet reassurances as he carried you, his voice a constant presence in the cold, empty night. His normally cocky demeanor had shattered into shards of raw vulnerability, replaced by a frantic urgency to get you home—his home. Your breathing was shallow, your limbs slack in his hold, and every uneven step he took felt like walking a tightrope with everything he valued most precariously balanced in his grasp. He adjusted his hold, cradling you tighter against his chest. “Look, I know I’m an idiot sometimes. Fine, most of the time,” he admitted, his words a jumble of nervous energy and shaky humor. “But this isn’t the time to prove me wrong, alright? Just hang on a little longer. I’m taking you home.”

By the time you reached the studio, the candlelight had dimmed, but the room still held the warmth of the love you had poured into it. Rafayel carried you inside. By the time he reached the threshold of his room, his shirt clung to him, drenched from sweat and your tears. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, careful not to jostle you, and hurried inside.

The room was cold and dimly lit, the heater long dormant. He set you down on the bed, fumbling with the blankets to cocoon you in their warmth. Your body trembled, and his chest constricted as he watched you stir faintly before slipping deeper into unconsciousness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible at first, as if the walls themselves might condemn him. Then louder, more desperate, his voice cracking. “I’m so damn sorry. I was stupid—so, so stupid. I should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve kept you safe. Should’ve—” He stopped himself, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sob building in his throat. His eyes flickered between his usual hues and that unearthly blue every now and then.

His hands hovered over your face, fingers trembling as he brushed damp strands of hair from your skin. “You’re too good for me, you know that? Too good for someone who screws up as much as I do. But I promise—” His voice broke, the words spilling out in a frenzied rush. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Il love you, cutie. I love you so much.” And then, because even in his rawest moments he couldn’t help himself, he added with a weak, self-deprecating chuckle, “I am lucky I’m this charming, or I don’t think you’d ever put up with me.”

He turned on the heater, pacing back and forth as he muttered under his breath, berating himself in every way he could think of, his brattiness peeking through as he cursed the broken world that had led to this moment. He glanced at you repeatedly, as if reassuring himself you hadn’t vanished, that you hadn’t slipped through his fingers.

When you stirred, your eyelids fluttering open, he froze mid-step. His usual confident smirk was gone, replaced by wide, guilt-stricken eyes. “You’re awake,” he blurted, his voice filled with relief but tinged with apprehension. “I know I screwed up,” he admitted quietly, his lips brushing against your temple. “But—seriously, who let you do this to yourself, huh? Oh wait, that’s me. Fantastic job, Rafayel. Bravo.” He huffed out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sitting at your bedside. The words spilled out before he could stop them, over and over again. “I’m so, so sorry. This—this isn’t how it was supposed to go. You’re supposed to be mad at me, not like this. Not…” His voice cracked, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Then, almost instinctively, the mask of bravado slipped back into place. “But, hey, look at you, stealing my bed like it’s your right. I mean, sure, I offered, but still.” His smirk faltered, his voice softening. “You better not make a habit of this, you know? Making me worry this much.”

You shifted, your eyelids fluttering completely open, and the sight of your weary gaze meeting his nearly unraveled him.

“Raf?” Your voice was weak, barely audible, but it was enough to snap him upright.

“Hey, you’re awake!” He forced a grin, though it couldn’t hide the guilt pooling in his eyes. “Good, because I was just about to start serenading you with an apology song. Don’t ask for a refund… the lyrics are terrible.”

You tried to sit up, but he was on you in an instant, gently pressing you back down. “Whoa, whoa, no sudden moves, alright? Just... stay put for once. Let me handle it for a change.”

"Handle what?" you asked, your voice edged with exhaustion and confusion.

His grin wavered, giving way to something more honest, more afraid. “Everything. All of it. I... I screwed up, okay? I’m the idiot who let you get like this, who didn’t see—who didn’t stop—” His words tangled, and he exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Or, you know, until you tell me to shut up. Whichever comes first.”

Your lashes fluttered weakly again, and a barely audible sound escaped your lips. “...Rafayel...?”

His heart soared and broke all at once at the sound of your voice. “I’m here,” he said quickly, leaning closer so you could hear him clearly. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Tears welled in his eyes as you looked up at him, your gaze heavy with exhaustion and something he couldn’t quite name—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. It cut him deeper than any blade ever could.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice a choked whisper. “I know that doesn’t fix this, but I swear, I’ll spend every moment making it up to you if you let me.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the hum of the heater and the soft whistle of the wind outside. Finally, you whispered, your voice trembling, “I waited...”

“I know,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now. “You shouldn’t have had to. You deserve better than that, better than me—but I’m begging you, please give me another chance. Don’t give up on me yet.”

Finally, your voice, though weak, broke the quiet. “You forgot... something that meant so much to me.”

Rafayel’s throat tightened, but he nodded, accepting your words. “I know. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you. I’ll show you how much you mean to me. I love you,” he whispered against your skin, the words soft but raw with sincerity. “More than anything. More than I can even say. I don’t deserve you, but… please, let me try. Let me make it up to you.”

“Don’t leave me,” he repeated, his voice a breathless whisper, “Not like this.” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, you could see the mask slip—just for a second. Rafayel was scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of failing you. It was the one thing he had never let you see, the one thing he kept locked away in the deep recesses of his heart, but now, it was clear as day.

As you looked at him, something shifted between the two of you—an understanding, perhaps. You could see his desperation, the way he clung to the edges of his composure, trying to hide the vulnerability he never allowed anyone to witness.

I thought... I thought this was everything I could give. Everything I could be..." your own voice cracking.

He shook his head again, his grip never loosening. “You’re so much more than all of this. I’ve been blind, cutie. And now I can see it—see you.” He gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to erase every doubt that had taken root there. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you feel invisible.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, the tears still staining your face, but the weight of his words was a strange kind of relief. He was here. He saw you now. The storm of emotions inside you hadn’t dissipated, but his presence, the raw sincerity in his voice, made you feel something close to safety.

Rafayel kissed your forehead softly, the gentle pressure of his lips a tender promise. “I’m here, cutie. And I’ll do everything I can to make this right. You won’t feel invisible again.”

You nodded slowly, the tears still flowing, but there was a flicker of hope, however faint. "Just... don't forget again," you whispered.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice firm, but his eyes were full of vulnerability. "I won’t. Never again."

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes closing as if you were too weary to respond. But when Rafayel reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, a faint squeeze answered him. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was enough—a thread of hope that he clung to with everything he had. For now, you didn’t pull away, and that was a start.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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ghostgirl-22 · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! <3 You’re like my favorite writer for Artrick! I swear you characterize them perfectlyyy

I keep thinking about the idea of Art and Patrick going on a date when he’s at Stanford. Like obviously Art wouldn’t admit it’s a date, but I imagine it’s after Art reluctantly admits that he wants to hang with Patrick alone when he comes to visit and that he’s a bit jealous of Tashi. So they basically have an unofficial date night. How do you think this would go, and how would Art go about initiating something physical between them because he’s obviously not gay right?

Okay but you’re actually such an amazingly talented writer and I love your stuff so much! Thanks so much for this request I honestly don’t think I did this ask justice and I’m sorry it was so long but I hope this attempt brings you some amusement <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! 3.8kish words

—-

It’s not that Art is jealous. He’s not jealous. He’s not. But up until now Patrick’s always called him and stopped by on his little trips to Stanford. It’s not like he expects Patrick to stay long, he knows he’s not the main event… but he at least expects him to come by.

So when Patrick shows up at his door three days later, asking if he can stay in Art’s room, Art tries his best not to express his irritation that he hasn’t once come by his room till now. And it really stings because Art knows the only reason he’s here now is because of the limit on how many days he can consecutively “visit” her dorm.

“You’re saving me man,” Patrick says, patting his arm as he drops his duffle on Art’s designated chair full of stuff.

Art shrugs. “Yeah well. Happy to be an afterthought.” He mumbles.

Patrick raises his eyebrows and then gives him a crooked smile. “You are never an afterthought.”

“It’s fine,” Art says, already embarrassed that he brought it up. “You’re dating Tashi Duncan. It’s totally understandable dude.” He tries to sound nonchalant, hopeful that it’s how he comes across. He feels like he spends so much time these days swallowing down on feelings. Feelings he can’t name, feelings he doesn’t even really understand. None of them jealousy. He’s really not jealous.

He does often wonder what they do alone. He thinks about what they do in bed since the most he really knows is that they’re fucking. He knows Patrick calls her all the time because he doesn’t really call Art that much anymore. They used to sit on the phone for hours, barely talking or talking too much, sometimes till late in the night. The same way they did when they were sharing a room in high school. But gradually it became, Patrick leaving the call earlier and earlier. To Patrick not really calling that often at all.

“You know, you can help me with something actually,” Patrick says, flopping onto Arts bed.

“What?”

“I’m taking her on a date tonight, we’re going to get dinner and see a movie.”

“Oh,” Art says. “What movie?”

“The new Saw movie. What number are they on now? 11?” Patrick laughs.

“Oh I didn’t know she’d like something like that,” Art says carefully.

”Yeah well, she saw the first one and she said liked it. She never got around to the others. I asked her if she’d be scared to see it but she said even if she was… she wouldn’t mind being scared if I was there. Isn’t that kinda… hot?”

Art shrugs again, swallowing it down.

”Sorry, is this hard to hear?” Patrick asks, patting his cheek.

“Fuck off,” Art mutters. “I’m just… I’m thinking about my game on Sunday. I’m not really worried about your relationship actually.” He lies.

“Good cause I was just gonna ask for your advice on what to wear. She tends to dress up for this kinda thing and I don’t want her to be annoyed if I show up in shorts and a t-shirt again.”

“You want me to help you pick out an outfit?”

“Yeah… you’re always put together,” Patrick says.

“All your clothes are tailored. Just pick something.” Art says, dryly.

“Okay but I want to wear something comfortable. Not something that makes me look like I’m about to donate a hefty sum at some stuffy fundraiser.”

Art sighs, “fine what’d you bring? Lay it out.”

Patrick empties his duffle on the bed, everything he has that isn’t training gear, playing gear and t-shirts is all wrinkled but Art has an iron. He helps Patrick pick something out. He’s still irritated, but he thinks he covers it well.

He’s actually stunned by how happy it makes him when Tashi calls and says she has to cancel. She does kids tennis lessons for extra spending money and a client wanted her help to prep for a game in the early morning.

Patrick’s talking to her, his tone understanding making her feel better about canceling last minute and promising to see the movie another time. He’s such a good boyfriend. It’s so weird that he’s not fucked it up by now. Art can’t remember Patrick ever dating anyone this long before.

Art’s sitting on his bed, back up against the wall, kicking his feet over the edge, listening to him.

“Sorry man, you’re stuck with me all night,” Patrick says after he hangs up. He knees the bed and sinks into it, settling down and leaning close to Art, he picks up his half ironed slacks and frowns.

“Mm… why don’t we go out?” Art suggests.

Patrick laughs and so does Art, feeling himself beginning to flush.

“Or… I mean… we could just hang out. Watch Hell’s Kitchen or something,” Art says quickly. He looks up when Patrick doesn't reply and Patrick is staring at him, a peculiar look on his face.

“Fuck it, let’s go out.” Patrick smirks. “You can be my date.”

“Yeah? Why not?” Art smiles. “I mean who says two friends can’t go out for dinner and a movie.”

Patrick laughs a bit, his expression flitting quickly between amusement and something Art can’t recognize. “Mm right. Platonic date night. Here we come. You have something nice right?”

”Yeah,” Art says. “I can wear that one shirt I wore to the awards dinner last year.”

“Oh yeah, you look so hot in blue, wear that,” Patrick teases.

“Shut up,” Art smirks, ignoring the weird feeling that blossoms in his chest after Patrick calls him hot.

They get dressed. Patrick’s clothes fit him so well. He’s in an outfit that might read as casual (fitted t-shirt, slacks, and a blazer) if not for the simple elegance of it all being quietly wealthy.

He’s also got a great body and anything fitted on him is going to bring that out. Art doesn’t think about his body often or anything like that, it’s just something he notices. The sky is blue, water is wet and Patrick Zweig has a great body. It just is.

They go to the movies first. “I prefer that when I go out on a date, so we have something to talk about over dinner or drinks,” Patrick explains as he drives them over to the theater in his jeep. “You know in case the date is boring. Not that that’s ever the case with Tashi. Actually, you know what’s crazy? I feel like she’s as easy for me to talk to as you are.”

“Hm,” Art says, swallowing down on something bitter in his throat. “Well I think you should try to find a balance. Talk to other people. You don’t want to scare her away by only ever talking to her.”

“Oh is that what you think?” Patrick says, smirking. “I don’t only talk to her actually. I’ve just got a lot of pressure on me. The only time I get a chance to rest I’m so exhausted— I got one phone call in me and so you know…”

“Oh,” Art says. “Well yeah I guess that makes sense.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Patrick asks.

“Mm, I mean… I think I might be interested in this girl on the team. She’s really good.” Art lies. He’s not really interested in anyone and he’s probably wasting his time, thinking more about Patrick and Tashi than he spends thinking about his own social life. He wants her so bad unfortunately every other girl he meets just pales in comparison.

—-

They’re actually on the 4th Saw movie, and it’s as stupid as Art might have expected. They laugh about it over dinner at Applebees. Patrick’s got this pretty realistic looking fake id so he orders a drink and they split it when the waitress isn’t looking. Not that she cares, she’s also a Stanford student. She’s been to a few tennis games to watch Tashi play but she knows Art is the number one singles player on the men’s team.

“You’re really good,” she smiles at him and he can feel his skin flushing as Patrick grins at him from across the table.

”Thanks uh— but Patrick actually plays professionally.” Art says.

“That’s so cool,” she says, she smiles at Patrick and then looks back at Art. “I would love to learn to just hit the ball over the net.” She laughs.

”He can teach you that easy,” Patrick says. Art kicks him under the table and he just grins wider.

“Can you really?” The waitress asks, flipping her pretty blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Yeah I mean… whenever,” Art says, awkwardly.

“Cool, I’ll be back. You guys want anything else?”

Patrick gives Art a meaningful look and then orders a second drink.

“When were you gonna tell me you got number one singles?” Patrick asks, watching her as she walks away.

“I figured Tashi told you,” Art says.

“Yeah but you should have told me,” Patrick says. “She’s hot right?” He adds, gesturing back towards the waitress.

“I mean… I can tell her you think she’s hot,” Art says. “I don’t think she believes you’re actually dating Tashi anyway.”

Patrick laughs, “God you’re such a dick. I meant for you. That would be a fun night.”

“I guess,” Art says, rubbing his palms on his lap. It’s all he has to say for Patrick to keep teasing him throughout the rest of the night, getting her to come back over and flirt with Art. He orders more and more drinks which she happily brings over.

In spite of the teasing, it’s actually really fun. Of course Art has been to movies with Patrick before, even gone out to dinner with him and their friends or family before, but this feels different. Art can’t figure out why… maybe because he gets to be in Tashi’s place. Maybe because it feels like old times.

They probably spend two and half hours in Applebees talking about the movie, high school, tennis, their parents, video games, girls and anything else that pops into their heads. They only leave because its 12 am and the restaurant’s closing. By then they’ve split a total of six cocktails and Art is feeling so tipsy.

“How much is it?” He asks when the waitress brings the bill.

“I’ll take care of it,” Patrick says.

“Dude it’s okay we can split,” Art says.

“No relax, it’s our platonic date night, right?” Patrick pulls out his credit card. “I can give you this though.”

He hands Art the non singable copy of the receipt and on the bottom the waitress left a note: For whenever you decide to teach me how to serve, Jenny. Followed by her phone number and a heart.

“She drew a heart and everything,” Patrick teases.

”It’s for you,” Art says, shyly.

“It’s so clearly for you, Stanford boy,” Patrick smirks.

“We probably have to take a cab home,” Art hiccups. Changing the subject. He does slip the receipt into his jeans pocket though.

“Oh yeah,” Patrick says. “You’re so responsible by the way. I love that about you.”

Art snorts a laugh and Patrick starts laughing too. Patrick leaves a big tip and they call a cab. Art promises to come back with him to pick up his jeep in the morning and they share a cigarette while waiting for the cab. When it arrives they hop in the backseat for the 25 minute ride back to campus.

Art’s feeling sleepy, the combination of food, alcohol and a long car ride is lethal for him. He closes his eyes, head slipping to settle on Patrick’s shoulder. Distantly, he feels Patrick rest a hand on his thigh and he opens his eyes, suddenly wide awake. It should be a nothing feeling but Art goes rigid, he feels it all up and down his spine and even worse, his cock starts to wake up.

“Did you have fun?” Patrick asks, quietly.

“Yeah,” Art says, he stares at the meter on the cab. He feels so dizzy and confused as Patrick’s fingers play a light pitter patter along his thigh.

“I’m sorry I’m not… free all the time. Like in high school, you know?” His voice is soft, Art can almost feel the vibration of it from where he’s leaning. He can feel Patrick’s breath on his cheek. It makes no sense the way his body is reacting. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought.

“Uh,” Art sits up. “Don’t worry about it. We’re both um— busy.”

“I know,” Patrick says, he’s still playing the pattern on Art’s thigh. “But I feel like I’ve been neglecting you.”

Art feels anxious, he looks up front, he can see the driver glancing back at them in the rear view. “Look… obviously your girlfriend comes first. We can do bro stuff whenever…” Art says as he gently eases Patrick’s hand off his thigh even though it feels nice. His heart is racing like he’s running some kind of marathon he doesn’t know why but it’s probably just the drinks. All the alcohol making his head all fuzzy.

“Yeah,” Patrick sighs. “Bro stuff.” He rests his head against the back of the seat and they’re mostly quiet for the rest of the ride. Arts mind is racing. All he can think about is how close they are but how much it feels like something is slipping away.

The halls are mostly empty as they get back to the dorm. There’s a few students still up. A couple talking softly to each other. One girl on the floor with her headphones plugged in watching something on her laptop. Some guy exits his room, talking on his cellphone as he breezes past them.

“You think I can sneak back to her room or no?” Patrick asks, one arm resting on the door frame as Art leans in to unlock his room.

Art feels his heart still beating oddly fast, probably because Patrick is right behind him. He’s never been able to manage personal space as long as they’ve been friends but right now Art is just so… aware of him. “You can stay here. It’s just one night. I’ll even let you have the bed all to yourself.” Art says.

“It’d be two nights. I leave on Sunday.”

“Okay, two nights then,” Art pushes open the door, breaking the closeness. It feels like a temporary bit of relief.

Patrick follows him in and slips off his shoes. “That’s the one thing I hate about dressing up. Fucking boat shoes.”

Art smiles. “I’m really drunk I think.” He says, kicking off his own shoes.

“Yeah?” Patrick smirks.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I’m gonna make it to practice tomorrow.”

“Isn’t it in the afternoon?” Patrick pulls off his jacket and then his t-shirt. He digs through his duffle for something to put on.

“Yeah but still.” Art realizes then he’s been watching Patrick undress, like he hasn’t seen him butt naked before. He shakes his head and goes to change into his own night clothes.

“Don’t be mad,” Patrick says as Art gets his jeans off.

“What?”

“I think I need a session, maybe I found that waitress hotter than I realized,” he’s in his boxers holding himself. His eyes fall over Art’s body.

Art looks down and swallows. He’s seen Patrick erect before… even touched it… But they were a lot younger last time. They’d actually grown out of doing it in front of each other a long time ago.

But ever since Patrick brought it up that night… ever since they kissed… Art’s mind would occasionally wander to what it might be like to see it again. And now there it was… just… right in front of him. Patrick holding it idly like it’s not ridiculous to be carrying all of that around. Art’s fingers twitch, his mouth is suddenly too wet and he swallows again. The worst part… he’s getting hard.

Patrick sighs. “I’ll go in the bathroom.”

“Um…” Art can hear his heartbeat in his ears, he sits on his bed just because his knees are shaky. “I thought… I think she’s hot too.”

Patrick is still for a moment watching him, before he smiles and approaches Art. “Right? I think it was the skirt. I mean those fucking legs.”

Art nods. He reaches for Patrick. His head is all fuzzy, his ears are ringing and Patrick straddles him on the bed. Art touches it through his boxers. It’s heavy and really, really full.

Patrick eases his fingers into Art’s hair. “And she’s blonde….I think I like blondes more than I should.”

Art grips him properly. It’s not just lengthy, it’s thick. The only thing he can think about is what it might feel like in— in— just in.

He rubs it up and down, like it’s his own. He’s never done anything like this before so he’s shocked when Patrick reacts, “Fuck,” he gasps, this quiet sound that makes Art shiver. Art grabs at the front of his boxers and eases them down, revealing a shock of dark hair and Patrick’s cock as it bobs forward. Circumcised, all pink, and all so real. So much bigger than the last time Art saw it like this.

He leans over and licks at the shaft.

“Whoa,” Patrick breathes and then he chuckles.

“I uh—‘m sorry,” Art looks up at him, anxious that maybe this is too much, too far. That he did something wrong.

“God Art. You’re so fucking…” Patrick breathes and settles down on Art’s lap. He takes Art’s face in his hands and kisses him. Art breathes in as their lips touch. It almost feels the way it felt that night. Something warm, almost on fire. Their chemistry overwhelming.

God, is he into this? Is he into Patrick? He thought it was all because of Tashi but this still feels good even when she’s not watching. And right now Art knows he wants to feel more of Patrick’s tongue. He wants to lick his cock again. His mouth hasn’t really stopped feeling wet, but the kiss feels good in spite of it…maybe because of it. He finds himself exploring every inch of Patrick’s mouth. His heart is still racing. He knows Patrick can feel how hard he is. The way he feels Patrick poking against his stomach. He grips it and gets excited when Patrick hums a pretty little moan.

Patrick eases them out of the kiss and looks at Art, fingers tangled in his hair. His cheeks are all flushed and rosey. His freckles are so vivid up close. He’s actually incredible. “You want to taste it again?” He asks, brushing up against Art’s lips.

“Mmhm,” Art nods.

Patrick takes a deep breath and he actually stands up in front of Art, so his cock is just right in front of Arts face. Art stares at him and nibbles on his thumb. Patrick’s got freckles on his tummy, just a couple spattered here and there. Art wants to lick those too.

He sits up and grips Patrick’s cock again. It feels so warm he must run at a thousand degrees. Art licks at him. He can see the way Patrick’s muscles tense. Hear his little breaths. Art starts licking more. Up and down, all over the length of him. He likes how it feels along his tongue. The heat of it, how soft and solid it is at the same time. He likes the taste and the smell, salty and heady. He sees the pearls leaking from the tip and tastes that. He really likes how it tastes so he sucks on the tip a little more. And it’s all punctuated by the way its affecting Patrick.

“Mm, fuck sweetheart, I know you want to explore but this feels insane.” Patrick breathes. “You’re gonna mess around and make me shove it in your mouth.”

Art feels warm at the way he says sweetheart. And the thought that Patrick might lose control over him.

He opens up and takes in more.

“Fuuckk,” Patrick sighs like he’s sinking into a warm bath. Art closes his eyes and runs his tongue over the length. He’s almost sure he can taste Patrick’s heart beating through it. It feels incredible and Patrick starts moaning for him which makes Art begin to lose himself in it. It’s too big to get it all inside at once but he tries to take a little more. His mouth is so wet that when he pulls back spit drips onto his thighs. He licks and then takes it in again, more this time.

“Oh shit,” Patrick gasps. He starts moving his hips like he can’t control himself and Art needs to grab on to keep him from shoving it too deep. But he likes the sliding feeling as it moves back and forth over his tongue. His own cock is aching. He feels like he might start pushing up against the air too. It’s so hot how he’s the one doing this to Patrick. It’s all him. His mouth. His tongue.

“Can you look at me?” Patrick gasps.

Art hums and looks up as it’s sliding out of his mouth, he takes a small breath before taking it back in again but his mouth starts filling immediately. Art feels it hot and thick slipping down his throat and he starts coughing. Which makes it start spilling everywhere, dripping off his lips and Patrick’s still coming so Art licks around the tip to try and taste it.

“No… wait, fuck, fuck… that’s too sensitive just… relax,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. He pulls his shorts back up and stumbles to sit on the bed next to him. He rubs his thumb over Art’s messy lips, Art licks at it and Patrick smiles letting him suck it for a minute before pulling it away and sucking it into own mouth. “Come here.” He rubs his thighs.

Art stares at him for a minute and then moves to straddle him. “Sit,” Patrick says, softly.

Art settles on his lap.

“Have you ever done that before?” Patrick asks, rubbing him over his boxers.

“No, is it okay?” Art asks, his voice a little hoarse.

“So fucking okay,” Patrick says and he starts kissing him immediately. It feels so satisfying, rubbing his tongue along Patricks after having a mouth full of him. He feels Patrick’s fingers ease into his boxers, gripping his cock where Patrick starts jerking him off properly. That combined with the stimulation from the kissing makes Art finish embarrassingly quickly all over Patrick’s fingers and in his shorts.

“Mm I need another cigarette,” Patrick laughs, licking his fingers and gazing at Art.

Art swallows hard, mildly panicked now that he’s back in his right mind. He climbs off of Patrick’s lap.

“What?” Patrick asks. ”And don’t say sorry.”

Art bites his tongue and takes a deep breath. “I think I drank too much.”

Patrick grins. “I don’t know. You kinda spilled some of it,” he gestures to Art’s lap, a bit of pearly liquid settled there.

“That’s not funny,” Art says, biting down on a smile.

“Oh it’s really funny.” Patrick says, getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Art asks. Strangely enough he just kinda wants to be near him.

“I’m gonna wash my hands,” he says. “And clean up a bit.”

Art bites his lip.

“You want to come?”

Art nods and gets to his feet. “I’ll just brush my teeth and um… change my…” he gestures vauguely.

Patrick smirks and beckons for Art to lead the way. “So,” Patrick says. “Where do you wanna go tomorrow night?”

#challengers #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #challengers fic #challengers smut #art x patrick #artrick

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ssentimentals · 2 days ago

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Heyyy I had asked for 13 and 15 and honestly anyone would be fine but joshua got me feeling some type way these days.... Thank you cutieeee ❤️ ❤️

heyyy, sure-sure! thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'ngl, that turned me on.' - 'oh, really?'

dating with joshua comes with many perks. he is, in general, the best boyfriend you could've ever asked for, but your favorite thing about him is how he goes out of his way to get involved into something that you like even if he has no interest in it. he's the sweetest and you proclaim this loudly, as he mixes eggs and milk in one bowl, wanting to help you bake the most delicious cinnamon buns ever.

'it's nothing, love,' he smiles shyly. 'if it matters to you to give our guests home cooked cinnamon buns then it matters to me too.'

you coo, leaning closer to give him a kiss. 'thanks, babe. now mix it all well and add sugar.'

joshua is always diligent and you're not surprised with how thorough he is, kneading the dough like his life depends on it. what you are surprised with is how much the whole scene turns you on. joshua is wearing a slim fit t-shirt that hugs his whole frame nicely beneath the apron and his biceps and veins grab your attention as he works the dough in the bowl first, then he places it on the table. joshua does the smacking thing twice and you have to look away, embarrassed at how quickly your thoughts go south at such an innocent gesture. joshua notices your rosy cheeks, of course. 'what is it, love?'

your inability to lie really makes your life so hard at times. 'not gonna lie, that turned me on,' you blurt, trying to pass it as a joke.

joshua, the fucker, doesn't even look confused. instead he smiles, stepping closer to you. 'oh really?' he questions, trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter. 'you liked that little show i put on for you?'

you gasp, hitting his chest. 'you- that was on purpose? whole flexing thing?!'

joshua chuckles and nods. 'for who do i go to the gym? it's my main aim to have my girlfriend salivating of my arms,' he half-jokes, grinning at your offended expression. 'no, don't pout, my love. you enjoyed the show, right?'

you know where this is going before he leans in and starts kissing up your neck. 'we have two hours before the guests,' you remind him. 'don't start.'

'two hours are more than enough for us,' he mumbles, nibbling at your skin teasingly. he grabs your hands and starts pulling you with him, out of the kitchen. 'dough is ready anyways, we should leave it for an hour at least.'

'but-' joshua shushes with you a kiss. it's an effective way to shut you up, you can give him that.

'can't leave my girlfriend all turned on, can i?' joshua winks.

you let go, give in. 'that would be very ungentlemanly of you,' you agree, making him smile.

after all, two hours are enough for you two.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen reaction #seventeen x reader #seventeen joshua #seventeen joshua imagine #hong jisoo #svt joshua hong #svt joshua x reader #joshua hong #seventeen joshua hong #svt x reader #seventeen prompt #joshua imagine

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aayakashii · 3 days ago

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Helloo Aya love your content as always and I have a request if you want to do it😊

Could you write "how would the Vagastrom and Jabberwock ghouls(+jin cause he's the only one I care about from frostheim lmao😭) propose to you/mc"😩

Anyways either way I love your fics and headcanons pls never die❤️

I love when ppl say "pls never die" to someone and now I feel elated that I'm on the receiving end of that too LMAO thank you for enjoying what I write <3 and thank you for helping me get out of my writing slump holy crap 😭

Warnings: none. Just tooth-rotting fluff, I might need a shot of insulin after writing this.

proposal headcanons

Jin

It depends on you, first and foremost.

If you're introverted, he'll make sure it'll be just the two of you, in the dim light of candles, with a dinner catered entirely to you.

Gentle music will be playing in the background as you two talk, and he tries to calm down his nerves by holding your hand tightly throughout the night.

You barely feel when he slips the ring into your finger, only noticing it when a precious gemstone glints brightly as he kisses your ring finger and murmurs the question into your trembling hand.

If you're extroverted, he'll throw a party just for the occasion. Whatever theme you like, you can consider it done.

You'll have the prettiest dress, the tastiest foods, the most delicious drinks with all the people you love surrounding you, despite you not knowing what warranted such a grand celebration.

Laughter and happy conversation suddenly quiet down as Jin brings you to the center of the room and gets down on one knee and the guests swoon over your fairytale romance.

Either way you prefer will be more than perfect for him, as long as your answer to his question is "yes".

Alan

Oh, he's so nervous. Almost can't look at you in the eye for an entire week before he gets the ring ready.

However, Alan isn't the type of guy who would prepare a special event for the proposal (but if you love him, you know this would never be his type of thing).

He does, however, want privacy to say whatever he needs to, if his heart finally decides to pour out of his mouth.

So, he takes you to a small hike.

Once you two can't hear anything besides the sound of leaves crunching under your feet and birds singing, he holds your hand tightly and turns towards you.

It's quick but soft and brimming with emotion: Alan only needs to tell you, through stutters and endearing mumbles, that you mean everything to him and that he wants to spend a lifetime with you.

He doesn't even need to ask whether or not you'd marry him. You're already hugging him so tight that you vanquish all of his anxieties in a fell swoop.

His heart thumps loudly in his chest, right under your ear, and he buries his face in your hair. You stay like this for a while, grounded and almost merged into each other.

You two only let go only when he finally remembers to slip the ring in your finger.

Leo

It's a show for the ages. It's not surprising at all that Leo would plan the fanciest, flashiest, trendiest proposal.

It will all be going straight to his TikTok right away.

But you already knew that. You know all the things that come with dating Leo. You know that his online career is way too important for him. You're fine with letting millions of fans ogle at him as he winks and vlogs and dances for them.

Because they will never see what you see.

They'll never really see how Leo's eyes look brimming with tears, nor how his hands tremble a little bit as he puts a ring on your finger.

They can't hear the little crack on his voice as he rests his forehead on yours and quietly asks you to marry him.

And when he turns to the camera, internet persona covering the tender little parts of him that he only lets you see, a smug smile on his face after you said yes, you know that you're the only one who truly knows him.

You're the only one who will marry him.

Sho

You're in for a ride, quite literally.

You don't suspect anything when he invites you to ride his motorcycle with him – Bonnie is his baby and you're his favorite person, it's more than common for him to get the two of you together.

Sho, however, can barely hide his anxiety. The dark blue band in the ring box feels like it weighs a ton, tucked deep in his pockets.

You notice his uneasiness. Of course you do. Your mind races with awful thoughts, and, as you two get off Bonnie, you immediately hold his hands, begging him to please let you know if you did anything to make him upset.

Sho feels like a dumbass. He thought he was hiding his emotions well, but it was silly of him to expect that you, of all people, wouldn't see straight into him.

But it's such a pretty day, and the air feels crisp, and the sunset paints you with orange rays of sunlight, and you look prettier than ever in his eyes.

He sighs and pulls the ring box out his pocket, putting it on your hand. His face burns with embarrassment as he says the words out loud, squashing any doubt you could ever have about the strength of your relationship with him.

You say yes as tears of relief escape your eyes, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, a small laugh bubbling out of your mouth as you feel how warm his skin is.

Haru

From the moment he saw you holding Peekaboo in your arms, Haru knew what he wanted.

He waited and waited, wondering when it could be considered socially acceptable to ask you to marry him.

Oh, if only Bahnti could make him run fast through time as well.

He tells you so once he finally decides to propose, holding the ring box he had bought right after meeting you. It was now old and muddied after all those long, agonizing months in which he kept it hidden inside his pockets.

He tells you of all the times he thought of buying other rings, one exponentially different than the other, because it was so hard not to think of you whenever he saw anything bright and pretty.

It's easy for him to see his future with you, and he promises to also make it easy for you to live with him.

He doesn't expect you to tend to his wounds nor work like he does. No, he would never even think of having you break a sweat for him.

Haru only wishes to be on the receiving end of your caring hands as well.

When you accept his proposal, you pull him onto your lap, fingers threading into his hair, and he sleeps, knowing he would wait it out all over again if it always meant you'd be his.

Towa

It doesn't take long for Towa to propose. In fact, he probably proposes every single day ever since you two got together.

But it's always light-hearted, like another way for him to say "I love you" without actually saying it.

He's given you countless rings made of flower stems, which you keep tucked safely inside a box, despite all of them withering way too soon.

When he's serious about it, however, you know.

There's not playfulness nor mirth in his eyes – just deep, infinite adoration. A seriousness on his face that shakes you to your core.

When he slips yet another ring in your finger, you notice: this one was made to look like a flower stem, but it was made of a silvery, hard band.

"This one will never wither," he says under the night sky you two had been watching. "It's a proof that I want to be with you forever".

His proposal is more of a statement than a question. You will marry him, he knows and you know as well.

And you couldn't be happier.

Ren

He hates the idea of proposals. Hates how much attention is drawn to a couple during marriage, hates the huge parties, the self-importance of couples who think the world should clap for them for just being together.

Therefore, he really doesn't expect to have marriage popping up in his mind every time he looks at you, a little into your relationship with him.

It's more of a reassurance than a romantic gesture to him.

Whenever you laugh at his jokes, spend time watching his awful horror movies, listen to his ramblings about games–

Whenever you look at him, kiss him and say his name–

Whenever you exist next to him, he wants, needs the reassurance that you won't simply go away in the blink of an eye. You won't leave him behind, back into a solitude he doesn't think he can handle anymore. Not after you.

So when he asks you after a binge of awful movies, if you'd like to spend the rest of your life with him, he does it out of desperation.

If he likes it, he needs to put a ring on it, right? Or whatever it is that someone said some time ago.

Your smile when you say you do is almost blinding. He nods and looks away, noticing his reflection on his notebook's screen seems awfully flustered.

"We'll go out to buy rings tomorrow, then." He murmurs. You lean onto his shoulder, agreeing and he sighs.

It will definitely feel good to see the proof that you're his right there, glinting on your finger.

#tokyo debunker #ask #tokyo debunker headcanons #jin kamurai #alan mido #leo kurosagi #sho haizono #haru sagara #towa otonashi #ren shiranami

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missriddle03 · 2 days ago

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heyyy baby how are you i loved you matt story anddd i have request but for chris like reader did video with the triplets car video and like fans start to notice how he is always looking at you like that AND THANK YOUU

hello!!!! im good thanks for asking, wbu? tysmm for saying that :) this took me longer than i thought but seeing as you are my first request ever i wanted to do it properlly. hope u like it <3 @lovetaylorrussellgrr

Title: Favourite girl

parings: fem! reader (y/n) x chris sturniolo

small synopsis: have a look at the request

time to read: 6mins and 30 seconds (average)

word count: 1,449k words

warnings: none :) just a cute fluffy read

song recommended: favourite girl by justin beiber (loosley based on it) p.s i've not listened to it but it came up on yt and thought it would be good to use it for this

The moonlit sky was a pretty sight to see but you and the triplets didn’t see much of it as all of you were getting ready to film a car video. Nick sat in the back next to you whilst Matt and Chris were in their usual seats.

“Hello, hello, hello!” Nick spoke to the camera. You were looking at your phone but put it away once you saw they were recording. “So, we haven’t got a proper idea of today’s video but we have asked you guys to ask us some questions! even though most of them are about y/n”

To that, you let out a small laugh. “I can’t help if I'm a fan favourite”

Chris turned his attention to you and smiled. “You’re everyone’s favourite” Silence followed his statement until Matt decided to talk. “We each have pulled up our instagram responses and now we are going to go through them together” Nick picked up a pair of glasses and put them on his head, he found a pair that was heart shaped and handed them to you as you placed them onto your eyes. Nick took his phone out and took a quick selfie with you. “Okay! First question, who did y/n meet first?” Matt asked as he put his phone away.

A huge smile formed on Nick’s face waiting for your response. You hugged Nick before you spoke, “I met Nick first in school but then he introduced me to Chris and Matt last. Chris and Matt had different classes to me and Nick” you explained. Chris took his phone out to read a question, “Would y/n rather kiss Matt or Chris?” He turned his head to you staring. “There is no way I’m answering that” you protested. Your eyes darted between Chris and Matt but stopped at Chris before rolling your eyes and looking at your phone. You swore you heard Chris say something but if he did it was too quiet.

“Waffles, french toast or pancakes” you grinned at the reference. All of a sudden Nick began shouting. “NO! Not again..I am not dealing with this. This was dealt with and forgotten about, we will not be bringing that up again. NEXT QUESTION!” All three of you laughed as Nick said that. “Okay..okay, so three words that describe you”

Nick spoke first, “Awesome, funny and stylish” You nodded your head in agreement. “I think I’m cool, maybe funny too and the best driver ever” Matt said.

“No cause like, I tried passing my test but I failed on one thing because a car zoomed past me and I was meant to see it but they failed me cause I didn’t go but I can’t go when a car is going over the speed limit” you said. “They should have passed you,” Matt replied.

“I would say I’m actually the funniest, the hottest and a Pepsi enthusiast” Chris put his fingers up like mini finger guns and winked, you couldn’t help but laugh. Meanwhile, Matt and Nick stared at each other again. “How are we related to this guy?” Matt joked. “I guess I would say I’m creative, weird and very smart” You finally answered.

This went on and on for a while, constantly answering questions; “Okay, are you all single?” Matt spoke. Nick and Matt immediately nodded their heads not wanting any edits about them hesitating. “Yes I am single and I like the single life” you answered. Chris was hesitating his answer but all of you knew he was single. “Yeah I am too..for now”

“Is there someone in your life that you like then?” You asked him, he rubbed his hands together and looked at you. “Yeah perhaps there is but she don’t like me like that I don’t think”

“Well if she doesn’t then she doesn’t see how great you are, she obviously isn’t worth your time” you told him. A twinge of jealousy overcame you but you didn’t know why you felt that way, why were you jealous that Chris likes someone? Why was his confession so important to you?

“That is all we have for today’s Friday car video. We hope you enjoyed it,” Nick spoke to the camera. Chris was looking at his hands as he was picking his fingers, Matt took the camera and gave it a big kiss before turning it off. “Do you wanna stay over tonight?” Chris asked you. Matt offered her a snack that was in his car door, you took it and accepted the offer to stay over.

The next week, you told Marylou that you were going to surprise the triplets with a pizza seeing as you went to the UK with your friend for a week and didn’t tell them how long you were going away for. Matt’s car was in their driveway and once you gained the confidence you walked over to the car knocking on the door. You saw them all look at you before opening the door, “Did someone order a pizza?” you said with a smile. You placed the boxes in the car seat next to Nick and then you saw Chris open his car door and give you a hug. “y/n! There’s my favourite girl. I missed you, how have you been?” he asked. He didn’t let go..not just yet. “I’ve been good I wanted to surprise you guys cause I didn’t tell you that I was going to the UK”

Now he let go of the hug once he saw Nick and Matt get out of the car. They each gave you a smile and all of you went into a group hug, “The pizza I got you guys was a meat feast pizza, I made sure I got 2 because I know Nick doesn’t like too much meat on his pizza”

“Thank you so much y/n, I love you,” Nick said. “I’ll wait inside so you guys can finish your video” You said to the guys. Chris waved at you and the boys went back into the car and began eating the pizza.

They shortly came in and you opened your tiktok, your inbox being flooded with tags in edits. A majority of them were you and Chris edits. You decided to open one up, the audio was ‘idfc’ by blackbear. It contained video clips of when you’re talking and Chris looks at you, moments where you’re just standing and he is still looking at you. Every moment where you smiled and he smiled straight away. You swore he never looked at you that much, you remembered some of the videos used were from the video you featured in last time. All the comments were saying how oblivious you were and how you must be dating each other. You looked at another clip and it was dated for today, posted only half an hour ago titled ‘how he talks about her’

“Y/n is not in this video today as she is away with her friend in the UK. I’m not sure when she is getting back but she deserves a little break. I know we have had a lot of messages asking how she is and when she will be in our videos next but we don’t have a definite answer for you guys. I do wish that she was in this video with us but like I said she deserves a break. She works so hard, harder than anyone I know and I’m glad she’s taking some time off even if it’s only for a little while”

You never told them how long you would be away for, when you did go on a mini break you received a message from Chris nearly everyday. You were brought back into reality when Chris sat down next to you, with a smile on his face. “Watcha watching?”

You turned your phone off, “Nothing important,”

“So, I was thinking we could maybe watch a movie. Not sure if Nick and Matt will but we could always have microwave popcorn. Only if you want to of course”

“Sure..why not,”

You weren’t really watching the movie, just focusing on the thoughts in your head. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions but were you the girl he liked? Maybe you felt something for him too…just maybe.

He gave you the popcorn bowl, “I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I mixed the sweet and salted together” Chris was on your opposite side, manspreading with his hands in his jogger pockets. You swore you saw him occasionally looking at you, after all he did say you were his favourite girl.

“Are you okay?” he asked you.

“Yeah, Chris, I am,”

also..should i do a prt 2 the confession???

#masterlist #tags #x reader #fanfic #angst #fluff #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader

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xetlynn · 16 hours ago

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Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept.

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before.

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib.

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me.

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose.

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch.

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob.

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off.

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder.

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression.

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!”

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom.

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort.

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks.

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well.

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet.

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head.

--------------------

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

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