#and that nothing could go wrong on those days

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[multipleoccupancy]

Theo hesitated to explain why other agents fought, while yes they could and would attack each other while going through violent episodes, he'd seen it, done it and handled it in the past too and those were forgivable. "I would never blame an agent for an episode," he said very clearly, it was never their fault, not really but it was also why he had taken the precautions of telling Samantha where his weapons were so that the damage he could do was limited. "Sometimes they just have high expectations, hot tempers and happen to be armed."

Violet's questions were relentless but he did see he could offer her some reassurance that he had proper support while out in the field if he answered her. "Whatever we need," he said honestly, "sometimes we have to source it ourselves but a lot of the time the agent coordinating the mission is able to pull in resources." He thought for a moment, "Remember what I told you about Montana?" That it had not been a bio terrorist incident but an unnatural event. "I could use the military to cordon off the whole area, another part of the team was able to use a helicopter." Which had been a horrendously close call! "I asked and received military help." He hoped he had done a good job in Montana and hadn't forgotten anything there, his mind replaying the mission time and time again to pick out anything he might have done wrong or missed.

He offered a polite nod of confirmation that he was at least better than he had been, sure he still had a long recovery ahead. She seemed relieved though and he was glad she was not as worried about him as she had been. Not wanting to spoil that for her he just smiled at her relief. "You don't need to worry about me," he said softly though it was of course valid that someone did! It shouldn't have to be his fourteen year old daughter. He wished he could have hidden everything he did from her, then she might have been as oblivious as the rest of the family was, just having seen some flame creatures and nothing else. He cursed Sloane every day since he had exposed her to monsters.

At least Violet claimed she was feeling physically better, though he did observe her carefully as he usually did when he sensed there was something else going on that she wasn't telling him. "And you haven't been travelling since?" He checked with her, that being his primary concern in the moment, still settled in the belief she would go to see her therapist and he would tag along - which he was not so settled about but if it meant she would go then he would put up with it for her sake.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"That's true," she admitted sheepishly. Anyone could make stupid decisions. She was certainly not immune to stupid decisions! Like trying to escape from a ward by stealing discharge papers. And... she had been responsible for civilian casualties before. Her mind shut down the images before they could burn themselves into her retina. But why would the agents attack each other, if they were on the same team? "Do agents fight when they have a violent episode?" she asked, because it seemed like the only explanation to her.

And she supposed she shouldn't judge agents for walking away, even if she had a tendency to do the exact opposite -much to her dad's despair. Still, if they worked for Delta Green, shouldn't they face the monsters no matter what? Violet wondered if the agents who fled were punished, but much like her questions about rules, she kept it to herself, worried it might trigger her dad. "Major help? Like what?" The military?

Violet smiled a teary, relieved smile. "Are you? Really?" she asked, almost to be sure that she hadn't dreamed it. "I'm so glad to hear that, Dad. I was so- so worried."

How was she feeling? Better now that she knew her dad was getting better too. "I'm ok, my arm doesn't hurt too bad anymore." As for her own memories of the ward, well... she certainly wasn't going to burden her dad with that. And while her nights had been plagued with nightmares, she had managed to wake up silently every time. Wide-eyed and crying, but silent. Violet was sure she was going to be ok, anyway. She had started to write the most painful memories down, in a journal she hid in her treasure box. She was no writer, but it helped her to turn them into epic stories. How she had broken that nurse's nose or killed the Star Vampire.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘 - 𝓝𝓸 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓞𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝓝𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓽 | 𝙳𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 & 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Hooking up with your best friend’s dad only to flirt with her older brother at the holiday party, what could go wrong? Rafe will let you know (<- part of the “mr cameron” au but it will be written to be read alone)

𝓜𝔂 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵 | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Ward and Rose aren’t your fans, but Rafe puts them in their place.

𝓢𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓞𝓯𝓯 | 𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚑𝚢!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

After a few drinks at a hockey party Rafe can't help but brag about what a pretty little freak you really are.

𝓤𝓷𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓭 | 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝙳𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Rafe catches you stressed and cramming for a test at the end of a long night babysitting his kids, and he wants to help you unwind

𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓵𝔂 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | 𝙽𝙷𝙻𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Talking about the future with boyfriend Rafe as you look at Christmas lights

𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂 | 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Rafe can't get enough of your red dress

𝓣𝓸𝔂𝓼 | 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Rafe catches a buzzing in your nightstand and he can't help but take a peek

𝓐𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓮 | 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙽𝙷𝙻!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙰𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

News anchor reader, Rafe’s ex, interviews him and the other captain ahead of Friday nights big game. Rafe can't help but see the spark between them and he wants to let her know who she belongs to

𝓑𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱 | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

You’re missing your boyfriend, Rafe, so you open one of your favorite videos of the two of you while you play with yourself, but you can’t quite hear it…

𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓜𝔂 𝓗𝓪𝓽 𝓞𝓷 | 𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚋𝚘𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

A very handsome cowboy asks you to stay for a drink after you finish your shift

𝓟𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂 | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

The two of you are terrible together, but you belong to him

𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵 | 𝙽𝙷𝙻𝙵𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌é!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙵𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌é!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Celebrating your engagement with fiancé Rafe

𝓑𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓼 | 𝙼𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

You know it’s wrong, you’d break Shoupe’s heart, but who can deny Rafe Cameron?

𝓟𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓔𝔁𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 | 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙳𝚘𝚖𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“Following me here, Rafe? Are you serious?” (<- part of the “professor cameron” au but it will be written to be read alone)

𝓘 𝓦𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓑𝓪𝓭 | 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“Show me what you do when you think about me, baby,”

𝓐𝓫��𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 | 𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙸𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Rafe gets called out by the leader of the Abstinence Club, and now she can't stop thinking about all the nasty things he promised.

𝓟𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 | 𝚂𝚞𝚋𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Rafe usually walks all over women like you, but he wants the opposite; too bad you want nothing to do with him, and he hates you even more for it.

𝓘𝓼 𝓗𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓸𝓾, 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼?𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

When you're getting hit on by a random guy at your local college bar “boyfriend” Rafe comes in to save the day.

𝓦𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 | 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Baking cookies with Rafe.

𝓒𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵 | 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Today you learned you were “casual,” those words never left Rafe’s lips before until your back was turned; you also learned Ruthie can't fight worth a shit. Now, you and Rafe need to have a little talk.

𝓐 𝓥𝓲𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷, 𝓱𝓾𝓱? | 𝙾𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚑𝚢!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

OnlyFans Rafe catches his sweet neighbor watching him record through her bedroom window.

𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛’𝚜𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

After purely hooking up, and swearing up and down Rafe was only in it for sex, he finds himself stewing in jealousy (<- part of the “sorry, top” series but it will be written to be read alone)

𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓓𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓻 | 𝙾𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Dinner at the Camerons (<- part of the “milkshake” series but it will be written to be read alone)

🌟If I have time I’ll be adding Dealer x Dancer!Reader & SingleDILF!Rafe x Teacher!Reader 🌟

[moonselune]

Hi! Could I request something? I just saw you accept new request again! I was thinking of yearning. Them yearning for oblivious tav.

I just love a good old yearning prompt

yesssssss the yearning the pining the dramaaa

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach was trying her best to keep it together. As she sat by the campfire, her eyes kept drifting toward you, her massive frame leaning slightly forward as if she could somehow close the gap between you just by willing it. You were tending to a few weapons you’d scavenged earlier in the day, completely oblivious to the way her molten eyes lingered on you, the way her hands fidgeted with a piece of stray leather to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

Wyll, sitting nearby with a mischievous grin, had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. The Blade of Frontiers had a knack for picking up on unspoken emotions, and Karlach was as subtle as a roaring forge.

“You know,” Wyll began, his voice low and teasing as he leaned toward Karlach, “if you keep staring at them like that, you’re liable to set the poor one on fire.”

Karlach froze, her cheeks flushing as embers flickered to life along her horns.

“What?” she whispered sharply, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t staring! I was just—”

“Yearning?” Wyll supplied with a grin, leaning back casually.

“I don’t yearn,” Karlach snapped, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, come now,” Wyll said, his tone smug. “The sighing, the pining, the tragic glances when he’s not looking—it’s downright poetic.” He tapped his chin theatrically. “It’s almost enough to compose a ballad.”

Karlach shot him a glare, her flames flaring slightly around her shoulders. “Wyll, I swear, if you don’t shut it—”

But it was too late. Her embarrassment sent her infernal engine into overdrive, and the flames on her body surged. The sudden flare caught your attention, and you glanced up from your work.

“Karlach?” you called out, your voice filled with concern as you stood and crossed the campfire toward her. “Are you okay?”

The sheer earnestness in your tone made her heart lurch painfully in her chest. She quickly tried to wave you off, her hands fanning at her shoulders as if she could dampen the flames.

“It’s nothing! Just—hot, you know?” she stammered.

“Well, yeah, you’re always hot,” you said, grabbing a nearby waterskin. “But this seems worse than usual.”

Karlach froze, her eyes going wide at your words. Did you—did you just call her hot? Surely, you didn’t mean it like that, right?

“Here, let me help,” you said, uncapping the waterskin.

“No, no, really, I’m fine—”

Too late. You doused her with a splash of water, and instead of calming her flames, it only made things worse. The steam hissed around her, mingling with her rising panic, and her flames flared even brighter.

“Gods, I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, looking horrified. “Did that make it worse?”

Karlach buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “No, no, it’s fine, just—don’t worry about it.”

Wyll, watching the scene unfold, laughed openly now. “You’re really outdoing yourself, Karlach. I think the entire camp will see those flames soon.”

You shot Wyll a confused look. “What’s he talking about?”

Karlach peeked through her fingers, her flames dimming slightly as her mortification reached its peak.

“Nothing! He’s just… being a prat,” she said quickly, glaring at Wyll, who only grinned wider.

“I’d call it encouragement,” Wyll said lightly. “After all, someone here needs to take a hint.”

You blinked at him, clearly puzzled, but before you could ask what he meant, Karlach stood abruptly, the ground under her feet crunching as her weight shifted.

“I’m gonna, uh, go check on—anything else,” she muttered, stomping off toward the edge of camp.

You watched her go, bewildered, before turning back to Wyll. “Did I do something wrong?”

Wyll chuckled, shaking his head. “Not wrong, no. Just oblivious. Don’t worry—you’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe.”

You frowned, glancing back toward where Karlach had disappeared into the shadows, her flames still faintly flickering in the distance. You didn’t know what you’d missed, but something about the way she’d looked at you before she left lingered in your mind, warm and unexplained.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The campfire crackled gently, casting a warm glow across the assembled group. You sat on a log, sharpening your blade, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents running through the evening.

Minthara, sitting a few paces away, had her sharp red eyes trained on you, a faint furrow in her brow. Her usual composed demeanor was slightly off tonight—her movements a touch too deliberate, her glances toward you lingering just a second too long.

Shadowheart, one of the resident camp gossips, noticed. She always did.

“Why don’t you just say something, Minthara?” Shadowheart drawled lazily, her lips curling into a smirk as she toyed with a loose strand of her hair. “It’s not as though subtlety is your strong suit. Or theirs, for that matter.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze snapped toward her, irritation flashing across her face.

“I do not need your advice, cleric,” she said coolly.

“Oh, I think you do,” Shadowheart said, undeterred. “Because whatever it is you’ve been doing clearly isn’t working. They haven’t even noticed.” She tilted her head toward you, who were now carefully oiling your weapon, oblivious to the tension building around you.

Minthara’s grip on her dagger tightened, her knuckles turning white. “They have other matters to attend to. The fault lies not with my approach but their… distraction.”

Shadowheart chuckled. “Distraction? They’re so dense they probably think the moonrise is flirting with them. You’ll have to carve it into the side of their tent before they catch on.”

That was the last straw. Minthara stood abruptly, her dark cloak billowing behind her as she marched across the campsite toward you.

“Minthara?” you said, startled as her shadow fell over you.

Before you could say another word, she grabbed you by the front of your tunic and pulled you to your feet with a surprising amount of force. Her crimson eyes burned with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You,” she snapped, her voice ringing out across the camp, “are impossibly blind.”

“W-what?” you stammered, your mind racing to figure out what you’d done wrong this time.

“I have fought by your side,” she began, her voice rising. “I have trusted you, protected you, respected you. I have given you every sign imaginable, and yet you remain oblivious to the fact that I—” She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, as if even saying the words aloud were a battle she needed to win. “That I desire you, you fool!”

The camp went silent. Even the fire seemed to crackle a little softer as everyone turned to stare.

You blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You… you desire me?”

Minthara groaned, her head tipping back in exasperation before she fixed you with an incredulous look. “Yes! Must I spell it out further? Or perhaps I should inscribe it on your blade since that seems to be where your attention is always focused!”

Shadowheart, who had been watching the entire exchange with barely suppressed laughter, finally burst out into an uncontrollable giggle.

“Oh, gods, this is better than I could’ve hoped,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

Minthara turned her glare on her, her lips curling in irritation. “If you say one more word, Shadowheart, I will—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, holding up your hands. “Everyone calm down.” You turned back to Minthara, your voice softening. “I’m sorry if I missed the signs, Minthara. I honestly didn’t realize.”

Her anger seemed to waver, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability.

“How could you not?” she asked, almost to herself. You hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on hers, still gripping your tunic.

“Because I’m an idiot,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m an idiot who’s honored and… maybe a little thrilled by what you just said.”

For the first time that evening, Minthara seemed at a loss for words. Her lips parted slightly, her sharp demeanor softening as she searched your face.

“Thrilled, you say?” she murmured, the barest hint of a smirk returning.

“Thrilled,” you confirmed, your cheeks warming under her intense gaze.

The tension in the air shifted, no longer charged with frustration but with something warmer, something promising. Minthara released your tunic, smoothing it out almost absently. “Then perhaps next time, you won’t require such… dramatic measures to understand me.”

Shadowheart made a kissy noise behind you, and you shot her a glare over your shoulder. Minthara, however, ignored her entirely, her focus solely on you.

“Now,” she said, her voice back to its usual measured tone. “Shall we continue this conversation somewhere with fewer interruptions?”

You nodded, feeling a grin spread across your face. “Lead the way.”

As you walked off together, Shadowheart’s laughter echoed behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For once, the fog of obliviousness had lifted, and you were exactly where you wanted to be—at Minthara’s side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel had always been a force of nature—her sharp tongue, battle-hardened demeanor, and unyielding confidence left no room for doubt. And that’s exactly how she preferred it. To anyone observing her, she was the epitome of githyanki discipline and control. But deep down, behind the steel exterior and fiery eyes, she was at war with herself.

She had a massive, undeniable crush on you.

It was maddening. Every time you smiled at her or even so much as glanced her way, her heart would race—a sensation she would have sworn was impossible for her kind. She had tried everything to make her interest known: sparring sessions where she pushed you to your limits (and a bit beyond), blunt declarations of your 'adequacy' in her eyes, and even offers to 'crush your enemies together in glorious combat'. But somehow, none of it seemed to land.

Instead, you remained oblivious, flashing her that infuriatingly kind smile and treating her like a valued ally rather than someone she desperately wanted to claim as her partner.

One day, during a training session, Lae’zel’s frustration reached its peak. She had you pinned beneath her, her blade at your throat, and instead of fear or admiration, you chuckled.

“Nice move,” you said, your grin wide. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

She grit her teeth and growled, pressing the blade a little closer—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point.

“You do not take me seriously!” she snapped.

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most serious people I know.”

“Not in battle, fool!” she snarled, pulling back and stalking away, her blade sheathed with a sharp clang, as you walked bewilderdly back to your tent.

From a short distance, Halsin, who had been watching the training with an amused glint in his eye, stepped forward to intercept Lae’zel. She stopped abruptly, glaring at the druid as if daring him to speak.

“Lae’zel,” Halsin said in his calm, measured tone, “may I offer you some advice?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You may offer. I will decide whether it is worth hearing.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “I’ve noticed your… interest in our leader.”

Her nostrils flared, and she crossed her arms. ��And what of it?”

“You are a warrior, and I admire your strength,” Halsin began, “but perhaps your methods of courtship are… misplaced.”

“What nonsense is this?” she scoffed. “I have made my intentions clear. I have praised their competence. I have challenged them in combat. What more is required?”

Halsin smiled gently. “Perhaps a softer touch. Words that reveal your feelings without the shield of aggression. A gesture that shows your care rather than your strength.”

Lae’zel looked utterly baffled, as if he had just suggested she surrender to a mind flayer.

“Softness is weakness,” she spat.

“Not always,” Halsin countered. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to wield a sword.”

She opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss. Instead, she grumbled something unintelligible and stalked off, leaving Halsin shaking his head with a knowing smile.

The next morning, Lae’zel approached you at camp. There was an uncharacteristic stiffness to her posture, as if she were preparing for battle, yet her hands were empty.

“Leader,” she began, her voice clipped but quieter than usual.

You looked up from your map, offering her that same smile that never failed to undo her. “What’s up, Lae’zel?”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. For a moment, she considered abandoning this foolishness and returning to her usual methods. But Halsin’s advice echoed in her mind, and she forced herself to continue.

“I… value your presence,” she said, the words sounding foreign and awkward.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, thanks? I value yours too.”

“No, you do not understand,” she snapped, then took a deep breath to steady herself. “I… value you. Your strength. Your wit. Your… idiotic charm.”

Your confusion deepened. “Lae’zel, are you feeling okay?”

She growled in frustration, her hand twitching toward her sword out of habit before she forced it to her side. “Do I need to spell it out for you, fool?”

“Apparently,” you said, still clueless but clearly trying to follow.

She stepped closer, her amber eyes burning into yours. “I desire you, leader. As my equal. My partner. My… lover.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw Lae’zel in a new light—not just as a fierce warrior, but as someone deeply passionate and utterly vulnerable in this moment.

“Oh,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “Oh.”

Her jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “If you find this amusing, I will—”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, a small smile playing at your lips. “I just didn’t think—well, I didn’t know.”

“Because you are blind,” she muttered, though there was no real venom in her tone.

You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively. “Lae’zel, I’m flattered. Truly. And… I’d like to see where this goes.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked as though she didn’t quite believe you. Then, with a sharp nod, she straightened her back and let a rare, genuine smile grace her lips.

“Good,” she said simply. “Now, let us prepare for the day. We have enemies to slay, and I will not let them distract you from what is ours.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. Lae’zel might not have mastered the art of softness, but in her own way, she was perfect.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart had always been composed, her expression a careful mask of neutrality, but recently, every time she caught sight of you, her calm façade wavered. Her chest tightened, her thoughts scattered, and her usually sharp words became softer, laced with an uncharacteristic warmth. She knew the truth of it: she had fallen for you. Hard.

And yet, despite her every effort to show you her feelings, you remained utterly oblivious.

At breakfast that morning, Shadowheart decided to take another approach. She brushed past you as you prepared the fire, the faint scent of lavender trailing in her wake.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but laced with what she thought was a hint of allure.

You looked up, smiling warmly. “Morning, Shadowheart. Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, sitting beside you with deliberate closeness. “As well as I could, knowing what awaits us each day. And you?”

“Fine, thanks. Just trying to get this fire going,” you replied, your focus returning to the task at hand.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re very skilled with your hands. It’s… admirable.”

You blinked at her, utterly missing the meaning behind her words. “Thanks! I guess all those years of camping have paid off.”

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but she refused to give up. Throughout the morning, she found small ways to stay near you, brushing her fingers against yours when you handed her something, complimenting you with what she thought was a sultry tone, and even laughing at your jokes—some of which, she had to admit, were terrible.

Still, you seemed completely unaware.

By midday, Shadowheart was frustrated beyond measure. She found Karlach near the edge of camp, inspecting her weapons, and stormed over.

“Karlach,” she said, her tone clipped but tinged with exasperation.

Karlach looked up, her fiery heart pulsing warmly. “What’s up, Shads?”

"Please don't call me that," Shadowheart crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling over. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been dropping hints—no, practically throwing myself at them, and they just… don’t notice!”

Karlach blinked, then grinned, clearly enjoying the situation more than she should. “Wait, you’re talking about—?”

“Yes,” Shadowheart snapped, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Karlach let out a hearty laugh, her flames flickering slightly brighter. “Oh, this is rich. You? Pining? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Shadowheart glared at her. “This is not amusing. I need advice, not mockery.”

Karlach wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “Alright, alright. Let me think. So, you’ve been… what, flirting?”

“I’ve tried everything,” Shadowheart admitted, throwing her hands in the air. “Compliments, proximity, even subtle touches. And nothing! They treat me the same as everyone else.”

Karlach hummed, tapping a clawed finger against her chin. “Maybe they’re just really dense. Or, y’know, not used to someone as… uh, mysterious as you.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest I do? Write it out in blood on their tent?”

Karlach snorted. “Hey, that might actually work. But no, maybe you need to be more direct. Like, ‘Hey, I think you’re cute, let’s share a bedroll tonight.’”

Shadowheart stared at her, aghast. “I am not saying that.”

“Your loss,” Karlach said with a shrug. “But seriously, just talk to them. Be honest. I bet they’d love it.”

Shadowheart sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Honesty. Of course. The one thing I’ve been avoiding.”

“Hey, they like you for you,” Karlach said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well, they would if they had half a brain and knew what was good for them. Go get ’em, tiger.”

Later that evening, as you sat by the campfire, Shadowheart approached you with purposeful strides. She was determined to take Karlach’s advice, even if it made her heart pound and her palms sweat.

“Can I join you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room for her.

She hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You turned to her, your expression curious but kind. “What is it?”

Shadowheart opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and looked into the fire.

“I… I care about you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, completely misunderstanding. “I care about you too, Shadowheart. You’re a great friend.”

She groaned inwardly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, I mean I care about you in a… different way.”

Realization dawned on your face, your eyes widening. “Oh.”

“Oh?” she echoed, feeling both vulnerable and absurdly exposed.

“I didn’t—Shadowheart, I had no idea,” you said, your voice filled with genuine surprise and warmth.

“I noticed,” she muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

You reached out, gently placing a hand on hers. “I’m sorry if I’ve been clueless. I guess I just… never thought someone like you would feel that way about someone like me.”

She looked at you, her expression softening. “And why wouldn’t I? You’re… remarkable.”

The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I guess that makes two of us, then.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You… feel the same?”

“Yeah,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “I guess I was just waiting for a sign.”

Shadowheart laughed softly, the sound lighter than you’d ever heard from her. “Apparently, I need to be less subtle.”

As the fire crackled between you, the tension that had been simmering for so long finally gave way to something warmer, something real. And for the first time in weeks, Shadowheart felt at peace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira was not a woman who pined. Or so she told herself. A High Harper, disciplined and pragmatic, she had weathered countless battles and heartbreaks. Yet, here she was, sneaking glances at you across camp, her chest tightening whenever you smiled or laughed. It was maddening. How had you managed to worm your way so deeply into her thoughts?

Despite her years of wisdom, Jaheira found herself at a loss. She didn’t know how to bridge the gap between the two of you, not without risking her pride or the delicate balance of your group.

The worst part was your complete and utter obliviousness. She’d tried subtlety—lingering conversations, offering you extra help with tactics, even sharing stories of her youth that she told no one else. You simply smiled warmly, thanked her, and went about your day as though her heart hadn’t been laid bare in every word.

One evening, after another frustrating day of yearning and getting nowhere, Astarion finally had enough.

“Jaheira, darling, may I have a word?” Astarion said, sidling up to her as she sharpened her blade near the fire.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, her tone brusque.

He smirked, clearly unbothered by her irritation. “Oh, nothing much. Just to offer my… expert services in matters of the heart.”

Jaheira blinked, her sharpening stone pausing mid-stroke. “What are you talking about?”

Astarion gestured dramatically toward you, where you sat chatting animatedly with Karlach. “I’m talking about your obvious pining for our dear leader. It’s positively tragic to watch.”

Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned back to her blade. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. “You practically glow whenever they’re around. It’s adorable, really. But I must say, your approach could use some… finesse.”

Jaheira scowled at him. “I am not some lovesick fool, and I certainly don’t need advice from a vampire with more charm than sense.”

“Perhaps not,” Astarion said, unfazed. “But consider this: have your current tactics worked? Have they so much as noticed your affection?”

Jaheira’s silence was answer enough.

“I thought so,” Astarion said smugly. “Now, listen closely. You need to be bold. Direct. Use your natural charisma and authority to your advantage. And if all else fails, a little flirtation never hurt anyone.”

Jaheira narrowed her eyes. “I am not a charlatan like you, Astarion. I won’t lower myself to cheap tricks.”

“Who said anything about cheap tricks?” Astarion replied, feigning offense. “Think of it as… a strategic maneuver. After all, you wouldn’t hesitate to outwit an enemy in battle, would you?”

Jaheira sighed, considering his words. As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Fine. I’ll listen. But if this backfires, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Splendid,” Astarion said, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s start with a little more confidence in your approach…”

The next morning, you noticed something strange about Jaheira. She was… different.

She approached you with a faint smile that seemed just a touch too practiced, her movements deliberate and graceful in a way that reminded you of someone else.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “Did you sleep well?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. I did. And you?”

“Perfectly,” she replied, her eyes lingering on you in a way that felt… odd. “Though I couldn’t help but think of our conversation from yesterday. You truly have a fascinating mind.”

You tilted your head, trying to piece together what was happening. Something about her tone, her body language—it was familiar. And then it hit you.

“Wait a minute,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you acting like Astarion?”

Jaheira froze, her carefully crafted façade slipping for just a moment. “I… what?”

“You’re doing the thing he does,” you said, mimicking a dramatic hand gesture. “The suave, overly charming thing. It’s not like you.”

Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned away, muttering something under her breath.

From across camp, Astarion burst into laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, this is too good!”

Jaheira shot him a withering glare before turning back to you, her expression softening. “Perhaps I’ve been… trying too hard. Forgive me if I seemed unlike myself.”

You smiled, your warmth cutting through her frustration. “You don’t need to try so hard, Jaheira. I like you just as you are.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then, with a small, genuine smile, she nodded. “Thank you. That means… more than you know.”

As she walked away, Astarion approached, still grinning. “Well, that could have gone better, but at least they noticed you.”

Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Never again, Astarion. Never again.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The late afternoon sun hung low, painting the riverside in warm golds and soft shadows. Gale, waist-deep in the cool water, had his arms crossed in front of him as if the sheer act of holding himself together could quell the maelstrom of feelings raging inside. His crush on you was a storm that refused to abate, leaving him with sleepless nights and days filled with longing glances.

From the riverbank, Minthara watched him with a look of abject irritation. Minthara had ordered him to take a dip in the cold water after he had decided to unleash his love-filled ranting unto her ears as they collected water. She assured him she would be fine to take the water back by herself, and when he thought she had left he keenly stripped and waded into the water. But Minthara had not left, no, Gale's lovesick demeanor had created a vendetta against her and she decided to take action.

"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath. She didn’t think it was possible for wizards to get worse, but Gale was proving her wrong. With a smirk, she moved silently to where Gale had left his clothes folded neatly on a nearby rock. With the swift efficiency of a seasoned tactician, she gathered them up and strode back toward camp.

You were enjoying a moment of quiet when Minthara approached, holding a bundle of robes in her arms.

"The wizard is by the river," she said bluntly. "It seems he’s in need of assistance."

You frowned, glancing at the clothing. "Assistance? With what?"

Minthara’s lips quirked into a thin smile. "He appears… indisposed. Perhaps you should go and see for yourself."

Before you could ask more, she tossed the robes into the fire and strode away, leaving you thoroughly puzzled but intrigued. You could have sworn those were Gale's. With haste, you made your way towards the river and when you arrived at the riverbank, you called out, "Gale? Everything alright?"

Gale startled, his head whipping around to face you, his hair slicked back and glistening in the sunlight. Clearly he had been searching for his robes. "Ah, no! I mean, yes—yes, everything’s fine!"

You raised a brow, stepping closer to the water’s edge. "Are you sure? Minthara said you needed help."

At the mention of her name, Gale groaned. "Of course, she did. And I suppose she also absconded with my robes?" He shot a wary glance toward the shore, clearly trying to maintain some distance.

"Unfortunately so. What’s going on?" you asked, scanning the area. Then you noticed the way his face burned red, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "Why are you still in the water? It’s getting late. and the river's current is about to pick up, you need to get out, now."

He hesitated, his fingers flexing nervously beneath the water’s surface. "It’s… complicated."

"Complicated how?" You looked around, spotting no immediate danger apart from the increasing current. "Do you need a hand getting out? I can lend you my cloak."

"You don’t understand!" Gale blurted, his voice cracking slightly. "This isn’t about the cold—or the current. It’s…" He trailed off, visibly warring with himself.

You tilted your head, curious and slightly amused. "Then what is it about? You’re not exactly making it easy to help you."

Gale sighed deeply, sinking a little lower into the water until only his nose and eyes peeked out. Then, in a low, hurried tone, he confessed, "I’m afraid my feelings for you have… manifested in a rather inconvenient manner."

Your brow furrowed. "Feelings for me?"

"Yes!" Gale said, his voice growing more desperate. "Feelings. Strong feelings—romantic, longing, entirely improper feelings for someone as… exceptional as you."

You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you like the warmth of the setting sun. "You—wait. You like me?"

"Yes," he muttered, his face practically steaming despite the cool water. "Which is precisely why I can’t leave this river at the moment."

The realization dawned slowly, but when it clicked, a grin spread across your face. "Oh," you said, fighting back laughter. "Oh."

"Yes," Gale grumbled, his mortification complete. "You see now why this is problematic."

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying your feelings are… visible at the moment?"

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you insist on phrasing it that way, then yes."

You laughed harder, the sound bright and unrestrained. "Gale, that’s not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You’re not the one at risk of a compromising exit."

Still laughing, you crouched by the water’s edge, your cloak in hand. "Come on. I promise I’ll look the other way. Just wrap this around your waist - tightly, and let’s get you back to camp."

Gale hesitated, clearly torn between his pride and the practicality of your offer. The river was rising, and the current becoming less forgiving. He didn't know what would be worse, coming out in this state or having to have you rescue him whilst he was in this condition. Finally, he sighed. "You’re infuriatingly kind, you know that?"

"Only to people I like," you teased, winking at him.

That earned you a small, genuine smile, despite his predicament. Slowly, cautiously, he edged closer to the shore, his blush never fading. You diligently kept your eyes closed, but there was that little devil inside you willing you to take a peak. He wrapped the cloak around his waist, only for you to hear a small, defeated sigh.

"You cannot laugh at me, but please may I request that I carry your shoes back to camp?" He asked, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow you must really like me-"

"-The shoes please!"

Still giggling to yourself, you took off your shoes and passed them to him, allowing him to use them as a shield to his nether region.

You were finally able to look at him, his cheeks flushed beet red as he murmured, "I am going to kill Minthara, or at least try to."

"You know, Gale, I think Minthara might have done us both a favor."

Gale groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never speak of this again. And especially do not encourage her behaviour."

"No promises," you said with a grin, walking beside him as you both headed back to camp. "Perhaps, I might want to get caught short with you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Astarion was not accustomed to being ignored, least of all by someone who had managed to captivate him so thoroughly. Yet here you were, brushing off his every flirtation, every lingering glance, every word dripping with a charm that could make others fall at his feet.

You were different, infuriatingly so. Every smirk, every sly compliment, every touch of his hand to your arm was met with a polite laugh, a nod, or—worse—a casual thanks before you moved on as though he hadn’t just thrown his best seductive lines at you.

For someone like Astarion, whose every move had been meticulously calculated for centuries, this was unbearable. He was practically seething with frustration as he watched you across the camp, laughing at something Karlach had said. He sighed dramatically, slumping onto a nearby log, the perfect picture of a man whose heart was in shambles.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why you might be cautious around him. He wasn’t blind to his own past or the scars it had left on his soul. But this? This obliviousness wasn’t caution—it was sheer ignorance of his very obvious yearning.

And so, out of options and desperately needing help, he did something he never thought he would: he sought out Gale.

Gale was sitting by the fire, absently flipping through his spellbook, when Astarion approached him. The vampire’s usual smirk was replaced with something that looked suspiciously like a grimace.

“Gale,” Astarion began, his voice unusually subdued.

Gale looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Astarion? To what do I owe this… peculiar honor?”

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, spare me the preamble. I need your help.”

“My help?” Gale blinked. “What kind of apocalyptic disaster requires my assistance? Surely not something involving a certain someone we both know?”

Astarion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. Them.”

Gale set his book down, his interest piqued. “Ah, I see. You’re pining.”

“I am not pining,” Astarion snapped, though the blush creeping up his pale cheeks betrayed him. “I am… strategically pursuing. Subtly, I might add.”

Gale snorted. “If by subtle, you mean utterly transparent, then yes. You’ve been as subtle as a fireball in a wheat field.”

Astarion scowled. “They don’t see it that way. They think I’m just… charming. Which, of course, I am, but there’s more to it than that.”

“And you want my advice?” Gale leaned back, crossing his arms. “Me, the man you’ve spent weeks mocking for my ‘tragic romanticism’?”

“Yes, yes, revel in the irony if you must,” Astarion said impatiently. “But you’re annoyingly good- most of the time, at all this grand gesture nonsense, and clearly, I need a new approach.”

Gale chuckled, a little too pleased with himself. “All right. Let’s see. The key here is sincerity. You can’t just charm your way through this one. You have to show them how you feel.”

Astarion frowned. “And how exactly do I do that?”

“Think of something meaningful to them,” Gale suggested. “An act that demonstrates you understand them, that you care about them deeply. And,” he added with a smirk, “maybe tone down the smirking and innuendo for five minutes.”

The next day, Astarion put Gale’s advice into action—or at least, his version of it. You were sitting by the riverbank, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when Astarion approached you, holding something behind his back.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his tone softer than usual.

You smiled up at him. “What’s up, Astarion?”

“I, uh… I noticed something the other day.” He cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “You mentioned how much you missed those silly little biscuits from Baldur’s Gate, the ones with the sugar glaze.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I did?”

“Yes, you did,” he said quickly. “And, well… here.” He produced a carefully wrapped package and handed it to you. Inside were a handful of the biscuits, slightly crumbled but still intact.

Your eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“Don’t ask questions,” he said, his smirk creeping back despite his best efforts. “Just enjoy them.”

You looked up at him, touched by the gesture but still utterly oblivious to the deeper meaning. “Thanks, Astarion. That’s really sweet of you.”

He stared at you for a moment, waiting for something—anything—to click. When it didn’t, he sighed dramatically and flopped onto the grass beside you.

“Are you truly this dense, my beautiful fool?” he muttered under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said, flashing you a too-bright smile. “Enjoy your biscuits, darling.”

From a distance, Gale watched the exchange with a shake of his head, muttering, “Some people are beyond help.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll was not used to being ignored, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He prided himself on his charm, his courtly manners, and his ability to woo with a single smile. Yet, when it came to you, all his gentlemanly gestures seemed to bounce right off you like a deflected blade.

He would offer you his hand to help you over rough terrain, only to receive a simple "Thanks, Wyll!" and a cheerful pat on his shoulder. He’d bring you breakfast, perfectly arranged, and you’d compliment him on his “team spirit.” He’d even tried a few subtler lines, but you always brushed them off as his natural charisma, as if his feelings weren’t entirely focused on you.

So, after one particularly frustrating evening where you didn’t even notice how his gaze lingered on you by the firelight, Wyll decided he needed help.

And who better to consult than the camp’s most direct and fearless member, Lae’zel?

Lae’zel was sharpening her sword when Wyll approached, his usual confident demeanor slightly crumpled under the weight of his unspoken affection. She glanced up, her sharp eyes narrowing.

“Wyll,” she said bluntly, “you look as though you’ve swallowed a blade sideways. Spit it out.”

He cleared his throat, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “It’s about… them,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lae’zel’s expression didn’t change. “Ah, the object of your obsession.”

Wyll winced. “It’s not an obsession.”

“Call it what you will,” she said, shrugging. “You pine for them like a fledgling seeking a mate. What of it?”

“I don’t know how to… tell them,” Wyll confessed, his usual eloquence failing him. “They seem entirely immune to my advances.”

Lae’zel snorted. “Perhaps because your ‘advances’ are weak. Soft. You dote on them like a mother hen, not a warrior. If you want their attention, you must assert dominance.”

“Assert dominance?” Wyll repeated, looking increasingly alarmed.

“Yes,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Challenge them. Best them in combat. Show them your strength. Then, when they are weak and trembling, you proclaim your intent to claim them as yours.”

Wyll’s face turned scarlet. “That’s—That’s not how courtship works!”

“Of course it is,” Lae’zel said, waving a dismissive hand. “You prove your physical and sexual prowess through battle. What better way to ensure compatibility?”

Wyll sputtered, his composure unraveling. “I—I don’t think they’d appreciate being ‘claimed’ like a prize after a fight.”

“They would respect it,” Lae’zel insisted. “And likely find it arousing.”

“Lae’zel!” Wyll’s voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands, his flames of embarrassment rivaling Karlach’s.

From across the camp, you noticed the commotion and Wyll’s obvious distress. Concerned, you got up and made your way over. “Wyll? Are you okay?”

Lae’zel’s smirk widened as Wyll’s blush deepened. He scrambled to his feet, fumbling for words. “Ah—Yes! Fine! Everything is fine!”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve just lost a sparring match.”

Before Lae’zel could open her mouth to make things infinitely worse, Wyll quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you aside.

“Just a minor… disagreement,” he said quickly, his voice cracking again. “Nothing to worry about.”

You gave him a curious look, but his obvious flustered state distracted you from pressing further. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Lae’zel watched you go with Wyll, shaking her head and muttering, “Coward. They would have respected a proper duel.”

Meanwhile, Wyll was doing his best to calm his racing heart and come up with a less mortifying way to tell you how he felt—ideally without Lae’zel’s "help."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Halsin prided himself on his control, his connection to nature, and his ability to remain grounded in even the most chaotic of circumstances. But when it came to you, all of that composure seemed to dissolve like frost under the morning sun.

You were utterly magnetic to him—your presence so compelling that his heart would stutter every time you entered the same space. He found himself enchanted by the curve of your smile, the warmth in your voice, the kindness in your touch. And it was unbearable. Literally, because every time you touched his arm or leaned in to speak to him, his instincts would flare wildly out of control.

The first time it happened, you’d brushed some stray leaves off his shoulder after he returned from foraging. “Halsin, you’ve brought back half the forest,” you joked, smiling up at him.

Halsin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a rush of heat overtook him, and— bam—he was suddenly a large, startled elk.

You jumped back with a yelp of surprise, staring wide-eyed at the animal in front of you. “Halsin?”

The elk gave a deep snort, its head hanging low as if mortified.

It happened again not long after, when you touched his hand while passing him a flask of water. This time, he transformed into a wolf, looking up at you with ears pinned back, practically radiating sheepishness.

“Halsin,” you laughed, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears, “you’ve got to warn me if you’re going to do that.”

By the time the third accidental wildshape happened—this time as a squirrel after you had simply smiled at him—Jaheira had had enough.

The older druid cornered Halsin after dinner, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face. “You’re a leader, Halsin. A figure of strength and wisdom. Yet here you are, hiding in fur and feathers because of a crush.”

“It’s not just a crush,” Halsin muttered, his deep voice unusually uncertain. “It’s… consuming. Every time I try to speak to them, I lose myself. They are radiant, Jaheira. I can hardly stand near them without—”

“—turning into livestock, yes,” Jaheira interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re a druid, not a child. Get a grip, Halsin. They won’t notice your feelings unless you make them clear. And for the love of Silvanus, do it without shifting.”

Halsin sighed heavily but nodded. “You’re right. I must face this head-on.”

Jaheira clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go before you sprout wings or something ridiculous.”

Halsin found you sitting by the campfire, a jar of honey and a piece of bread in your hands. The firelight danced across your features, and Halsin felt his heart thrum painfully in his chest.

“Is everything okay, Halsin?” you asked, looking up at him with a concerned smile.

Halsin cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain steady. “Yes, I… there is something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, some honey glistening on your lips. “Of course. What is it?”

And that was it. The sight of your lips, the gentle curve of your expression—it was too much. Despite every ounce of willpower he had summoned, Halsin’s body betrayed him. With a flash of light and a muffled groan, he was suddenly a massive brown bear, sitting heavily on the ground.

You blinked, staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Halsin! You did it again!”

From across the camp, Jaheira let out a long, exasperated groan, throwing her hands up. “I give up!” she muttered, stalking off.

The bear lowered its massive head, letting out a low huff of frustration. You reached over and gently placed a hand on his fur.

“It’s okay, big guy,” you said, grinning. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

If Halsin could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he let you pet him, resigning himself to the fact that his feelings were much harder to control than he’d ever anticipated.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was so so so so so much fun to write !! Especially Gale's icl hehehe. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[straylightdream]

midnight drives

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: choi seungcheol x curvyf.reader

↳ late night drives lead to desperate kisses with your sister’s ex boyfriend.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: friends to lovers?? non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, body insecurity, mentions of possible emotional cheating, smut warning below the cut.

an: I might go back and edit this one more time later.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: car sex, protected sex, so much kissing, marking, and biting while kissing. seungcheol is obsessed with kissing the mc neck.

It was one of those days Seungcheol actively wanted to quit his job. He was in the office until nearly midnight working on a project that was due by midnight. Anything that could go wrong did. He honestly just wanted to see you. He just wanted to shut his brain off and not think about work any longer. Seungcheol really didn’t want to sit silently in the car next to you as you just scrolled through your phone. He stared at you wishing he could kiss you again. You had kissed the other night for the first time when you were both drunk. Your kiss you shared that night for some reason was all he could think about. Your lips seemed to take up every thought in his mind. Even though you said that you should act like nothing had ever happened.

“Do you really regret that night?” he asked, breaking the screaming silence.

His question caught you surprise. Locking your phone you looked over at Seungcheol who has a serious look painted across his face. You weren’t sure what you should say, because your drunken kiss that night had left you with a feeling of butterflies. But you didn’t want to admit that you had felt anything. Because you knew you were really good friends and you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. Your sister also added a layer of complication to this.

“You know Hayley thinks it’s weird we’re still friends,” you said in an attempt to change the subject but also let him know why you really felt conflicted about everything. Hayley was your older sister who had dated Seungcheol first. She was the reason you and Seungcheol became friends. They dated in high school and during college.

He rolled his eyes at the fact that Hayley and him had been broken up for almost two years and yet you didn’t see him as anything other than your sister’s ex. A sigh passed his lips, “I get she’s your sister and all but why are you letting her get in the way of you being happy?”

Your head tilted slightly as you were trying to process what Seungcheol had just said to you. You liked Seungcheol a lot more than you were willing to admit and that honestly scared you to no end. You weren't really ever the girl that was looking for a relationship. You were independent and didn’t need anyone to make you happy. But he was managing to change things without really trying.

“How do you know that being with you would make me happy?” You stared at him wondering what he was going to say to you.

“Because just being around you makes me happy. You’re the only one I want to see even after having the worst day at work. You’re the only person who can make me smile even when I’m upset.” he couldn’t believe he was basically confessing how he had felt for you for almost two years.

“Didn’t my sister make you happy?” You asked, twisting in your seat so you’re looking straight at him.

He shook his head, “I had such a big crush on you, she honestly didn’t compare.” Your heart-rate picked up and you felt butterflies in your stomach at everything he was saying. How do you even respond to that statement? There was no way you could of know that the whole time he was dating your sister that he wanted you.

“Cheol,” you paused because you didn’t know what you should say to him.

He reached over and rested his large hand on your flushed cheek and stared into your eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you again,” you smiled instantly. Leaning over the center console he roughly connected his lips to yours. He moved his lips against yours as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He was kissing you as if he was trying to prove a point. Your lips moved against each other as if you needed each other to breathe. He pulled his lips away from yours and stared into your eyes. Your body felt warm suddenly. You just stare at him wishing he would kiss you again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, really hoping you would say no.

“No,” you whispered.

He smiled as he moved his lips to your jaw and started kissing down to your neck, and occasionally licking and nipping at the sensitive skin on your neck. You knew at the rate you’re going you were definitely going to have to cover up some marks on your neck tomorrow. A moan passed your lips as he slightly moved your sweater off your shoulder so he could kiss your collarbone and the top of your shoulder.

The way he was kissing you made you want to rip his clothes off. He was getting you so turned on without really even trying. You could spend hours kissing him like this. If kissing was an Olympic sport Seungcheol would be a gold medalist.

“What’s going to happen here?” You asked as he continued to kiss your neck. Earning another moan from you.

In-between kisses he managed to say, “whatever you want to happen can happen.”

You closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of his lips ghosting across your skin. Nobody has ever kissed you like this. “The way you’re kissing me I feel like you have an idea of what you want to happen.”

He smiled against your neck before lightly biting down, “I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just enjoying that I actually get to kiss you like I’ve always wanted too.”

Tangling your fingers in his hair you held him closer to you. You knew you probably shouldn’t sleep together. It's hard to tell your body that when you’re turned on. You didn’t know if you could walk away from this.

“If you keep up what you’re doing I can’t promise this will end with just kissing,” you said, rolling you head back in pure pleasure.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, pulling his lips away from your neck.

“You have me so turned on right now kissing isn’t going to be enough,” you sighed, reaching over and resting your hand against his cheek.

“You think you’re turned on, imagine being me,” he said looking down at his erection that was straining against his dress pants.

“Thank god you have tinted windows in the backseat, and it's dark back there,” you said looking behind into the backseat.

Seungcheol stared at you with a confused look on his face, not sure what you meant, “what?”

“It means when we have sex in the backseat of your car no one will see,” you smirked before pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

“Oh?”

You nod with a smile on your face, “Seungcheol I just want you to know I’m not exactly comfortable in my skin. I’m not a size two like Hayley. I have a soft body, there’s quite a difference in our bodies.”

He pushed his eyes together as he stared at you confused. He couldn’t believe that you didn’t realize how sexy he found you, “baby do you not realize at all the pool parties we used to have I would have to constantly stop myself from staring at you.” He couldn’t believe he was admitting to you that he used to stare at. Back in the day he couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. “I used to fantasize about you,” he said feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Seriously?” Suddenly you feel more confident.

“Yeah.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip you tried to hide the huge grin that wanted to form.

“The more you talk the more you seem to be turning me on.” You crawled over the center console and made quick work of shimming your legging and undies off while Seungcheol jumped out of the front seat and quickly opened the door and got into the back seat next to you. He made quick work of getting pants unbuttoned and pushed down enough to free himself. Once you were naked from the waist down you crawled toward Seungcheol who was sitting there with his pants pushed down to his knees and his erection standing proud as he bit his bottom lips staring at you. From the beginning when you first met him you always thought he was so hot, but the sight of him sitting there with his hard cock on display made your mouth water.

“I wish we could get all your clothes off,” he said as you straddled his thighs.

“Maybe next time,” you smiled before pressing your lips to his. You reached down and started unbuttoning his light blue dress shirt. You wanted to see his abs and run your fingers over them. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, reaching down and slowly started stroking him causing him to groan. You couldn’t believe how hard he got just from your makeout session in the front seat.

He nodded, “there’s one in the center console.”

Reaching behind to the center console and grabbed the row of three condoms. You tore the foil open with your teeth and made quick work of rolling the condom down his hardened length. Lifting up you hovered your body over his erections. A smile spreads across your lips as he lined himself up.

“I can’t lie, I've waited for this moment since I met you,” he said before pressing his lips to your jaw for another kiss.

“Show me what you got then,” you slowly lowered yours down on him and let out a moan.

You moved together as you tried to keep a steady pace, your hands rested on his shoulders as his lips continued to kiss your neck roughly.

“Oh my,” you moaned.

You rolled your hips riding him. Seungcheol kept his large hands glued to your hips as he tried to help you keep a good pace.

“Cheol,” you sighed. “I need you to use your fingers baby.”

He nodded his head and he moved one of his hands for your soft waist down to your sensitive clit. He slowly dragged his finger in a circle and received a positive moan from you.

“That feels so good,” you say as she leaned forward connecting your lips to Seungcheol’s.

You rode him a little faster hoping to push yourself over the edge as he dragged his finger against your clit in messy circles. Your body feels like a live wire as you’re desperately close to the edge. Rolling your head back in pleasure, Seungcheol connected his lips to your neck again and started kissing his way up. This man is obsessed with your neck and you won’t ever complain about it. You couldn’t believe how good he was in bed. This man seemed to know all the right things to do.

“Are you close?” he asked feeling himself getting close to the edge.

All you can do is moan and whimper his name. You weren’t even sure you could form proper words.

He started thrusting his hips upwards and every time your hips met Seungcheol received a moan from you letting him know that you were on the brink of falling apart. He keeps thrusting up until he feels your walls start to clench around him. Throwing your head back with a loud moan. You see stars and feel like you’re on the verge of blacking out as your high hits you like a hurricane.

He grabbed your hips and got a few more thrust in when he hit his high. You were breathing heavily as you slumped forward against Seungcheol. He leaned his head against the headrest behind him. His mind felt numb as he tried to process the intense sex you just had.

Slowly you move off of Seungcheol’s lap and lean with your back against the door and your feet resting on his lap. Your breathing had finally gotten steady and you stared at Seungcheol who had his eyes closed and a smile on his face as his breathing was a little heavy.

“That was better then I ever expected,” he sighed with a smirk as he had his head still leaning back.

“You had low expectations for me?” You pushed your eyebrows together, kind of offended by his comment.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said playfully, hitting your leg. You rolled your eyes at him and just shook your head. He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed your foot that was in your lap and slowly started massaging it.

“Seungcheol what happens now?” Your mind was starting to over think things after what just happened.

“Well I was hoping we could maybe do this somewhere other than the backseat of a car,” he said with a little laugh. This wasn’t the most idle location for your first time having sex together.

“Okay cool,” you said realizing he saw you only as fuck buddy. You weren’t sure you could handle only being a hookup buddy with him.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, setting down your foot. He slowly reached over and put his hand on your soft cheek causing you to look at him.

“Seungcheol I like you a lot and I can’t be just your fuck buddy,” you said bluntly.

He tilted his head to the side and gave you a confused look. “Is that what you think this is?” You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him. “I fully intend on taking you out on a date. I don’t expect only sex from you. I would like to take you out as well. The sex is just an extremely nice bonus,” he smiled.

“Oh I see.”

“Why don’t we get dressed and go inside and have sex where we aren’t still dressed?” He asked with a smirk.

“Seriously?” You laughed.

“Dead serious,” he said lifting his hips so he could get his pants up.

“Alright,” you said, reaching on the floor and grabbing your leggings.

You quickly got dressed and hopped out of his car. You looked over at each other and laughed a little as Seungcheol worked on straightening out his pants. He was already getting hard again and just the thought of round two. You couldn’t wait to explore his body and fully see him naked.

Quickly you opened the door and you both walked inside. The second the front door was closed Seungcheol pinned you against the wall and started kissing you. His lips roughly moved down your jaw towards your sensitive neck. Earning another moan from you.

You moved your hands up and down his back and held him close to you as your lips moved together quickly. He placed his strong thigh between her legs. Instantly grinding your cloth cover pussy against his tone thigh.

A gasp passed your lips as he lightly bit your neck. Surely leaving another mark behind. He pulled away from you and smirked. His hands moved down and grabbed the bottom of your sweater and quickly worked to remove it. He bit his bottom lip as you worked on unbuttoning his shirt again.

Running your hands down his toned abs and closing the distance between you crashing your lips together again. His hands started roughly roaming your torso and moved up to your bra covered breast.

“Wow.” Everything instantly feels like it’s halted and your heart starts racing. Both of you froze completely, realizing you’ve been caught. The worst possible person just walked into the room.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groaned knowing that voice all too well. He can tell by the look on your face that you’re panicking.

You moved Seungcheol's arm and walked towards your sister who was standing in the living room with a shocked look on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” you said feeling extremely guilty about the fact you had just had sex with your sister's ex. It doesn’t help that you were about to do it again.

“This is really awkward,” your sister said with a little laugh. “Hey Seungcheol,” she said to him as he awkwardly sat down on the couch trying to adjust the erection.

“Hey Hayley,” he said with a really awkward smile.

“So you guys are hooking up,” she said leaning against the wall.

“It’s complicated,” you sighed.

“Well I’m gonna go back to my room to my boyfriend and attempt to bleach my brain,” she said with a laugh.

“Wait Hayley are you mad at me?” You asked reaching for your sister.

She shook her head, “No, Seungcheol and I broke up like three years ago. I’ve been with Henry for two years. I don’t care that you and Cheol are hooking up. Just do me a favor and be safe,” she smiled.

“Okay thank you.”

“Also do it in your room not the damn living room,” she said as she walked down the hall.

The second you heard your sister’s door close you looked over at Seungcheol who was holding a throw pillow over his erection.

“Off to my room,” you said signaling for him to follow you. You made your way to your room that was across from Hayley’s room. It was a room that Seungcheol used to be very familiar with and all the sudden he became very aware of how weird the situation with you and him is.

“Is this weird to you?” he asked, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t help but be a little confused by his statement.

“I mean that I used to sleep with Hayley?”

You shrugged, “I mean kind of, but I try not to think about my sister having sex.”

He let out a little laugh. There is something about you that he’s always found so charming. From the very beginning you two have always gotten along really well.

You sat down next to him and you roughly connected your lips together. He tangled his fingers in your locks. You rested your hand on Seungcheol’s thigh and slowly massaged it as your lips moved together. Pulling away from each other and resting your noses together and you both couldn’t help but smile.

“I need you naked,” his voice is raspy with need. His deep voice gives you butterflies with little to no effort. He stood up and put his hand out for you to take. You stood a foot away from him and he bent down sitting on his knees in front of you. You could get used to seeing him looking at you like this. He reaches for the top of your leggings and moves them slowly down your soft thighs. He sprinkled kisses across the exposed skin on your soft thighs. He finished pulling your leggings off and looked up at you and gave you a love sick smile. Reaching behind you pulled your bra off leaving you only in your cheeky panties. He licked his lips and sat back on his hunches and slowly took off your final layer of clothing.

Standing there completely naked in front of basically still dressed Seungcheol. You became extremely aware of the fact that you were not a skinny girl. You have a soft body and curves and they are on full display. He could sense you were over thinking everything so he stood up and pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. Reaching between you, you worked on unbuttoning his dress pants. He stepped back from you and kicked his shoes off and got his dress pants and boxers off quickly. You both stood there both completely naked and staring at each other.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he said, reaching his hand up and resting it on your cheek.

You crawled back on your bed and he followed. You laid back on your pillows waiting for him. Hovering over you he quickly attached his lips to yours. He kissed like he needs you to breathe. As if you are the air in his lungs. He rolled his naked body against yours trying to get some friction for some foreplay.

“Condoms are in the nightstand,” you said as he started kissing his way down your jaw. The feeling of his lips against your skin is something you don’t think you’ll ever get over. Pulling away from you long enough to grab a condom. Tearing the foil packet with his teeth. Slowly sliding the rubber down his already hard length. Spreading your legs you give him full access to your body. He lined his length up with your sopping entrance. You’re still wet from the first time he made you cum in his car.

“Cheol,” you moan, attempting to keep quiet. He rolled his hips quickly into yours as you held onto him for what felt like dear life.

“You feel so good,” he groans. Reaching up your fingers in his hair holding him close to you. Leaning forward you connected your lips to his for a rough kiss. You pulled away biting his bottom lips causing him to smirk. He loved that you were being more bold. He paused for a moment and grabbed one of your legs, throwing it over his hip before he started moving at a quick pass.

“Fuck,” you moan at the new position he was hitting. There was no way you could last very long at the angle he was hitting over and over again. “Cheol…I’m so close,” another moan passed your lips.

“Go ahead and cum for me,” he smiled before kissing your neck again. He kissed his way up the sensitive skin of your neck occasionally leaving love bites. He reached up and laced his finger with one of your hands. He wanted to touch you in every way possible as he got closer and closer to the edge.

A white hot wave washes over you. Your orgasm hits you like a brick wall. Your walls contract around Seungcheol as he’s chasing his own high. It only took a few sloppy thrust before Seungcheol cums moaning your name. You laid there with Seungcheol on top of you for a long moment. He’s still snug inside you. You close your eyes trying to catch your breath. He slowly rolled off you and sighed.

“So how does dinner sound tomorrow night?” he asked, causing you to laugh.

“Tomorrow night sounds perfect,” you said cuddling next to him.

[akanemnon]

I totally get not wanting to do the geno run, I remember wanting to start the run, killed a single monster, and deleted the save.

A friend was mean to me for giving up on it.

This was back when the game was just a few months old, and we were 14-16 years old.

It's just... like you said. I don't want to hurt the pixilated people. Makes me feel sad. And because I was maybe 15 years old, and very sensitive, made me feel extreme empathy for these characters.

I'm really sorry your friend was mean to you because you didn't want to go throught with the genocide route. These characters are written with so much love and care, that it is no wonder that you would get attached to them and wouldn't want to hurt them. I literally feel the same way.

I have no way to confirm this, but I have heard that back in the day people used to be really mean when people didn't play Undertale the "correct" way. That kinda sounds like one of these cases.

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to do the genocide route. There is also nothing wrong with going through with it. Undertale is a game and it gives you the option to approach it in any way you like. It also reacts to the way you do it.

In the end it all boils down to what you get the most out of in the game. For some people it's the characters, for others it's the fights, and then there are those who want to scour every single thing this game has to offer. Undertale has something for everyone.

I am more than content with only doing the pacifist route and never touching the game again after that. Yes, these characters are just a bunch of lines code and pixels, but in my mind, they're quite happy with the life I could help give them on that Switch cartridge.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ʜ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Jason stepped into Wayne Manor, he looked more like a stray cat than a boy. When Bruce introduced him to you—you couldn’t help but notice the defiance in his eyes, like he expected you to reject him immediately. But instead of recoiling from his rough edges, you smiled and offered your hand. It was the first moment Jason felt truly seen.

Jason didn’t know what to do with kindness, especially not from someone who looked at him like he was worth something.

“You’re going to love it here,” you said warmly, still holding out your hand.

He didn’t take it, but he didn’t forget the gesture either. That moment rooted itself in him, and he clung to it in the months to come.

You were the first person to make him laugh in years. It started small—quiet chuckles he tried to hide—but eventually, you had him cackling so hard that tears streamed down his face.

You were unlike anyone Jason had ever met. While Bruce was the stern, brooding authority figure, you were warmth and understanding. You treated him like an equal, never pitying him for his past or scolding him for his sharp tongue. You’d sit with him during his training, patch him up after patrols, and listen to him vent about the unfairness of Gotham’s streets. Jason began to feel that you were the one good thing in his life—a tether to keep him grounded.

Even in those early days, Jason couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy whenever you spent time with others. Whether it was Dick dropping by the Manor or Bruce pulling you away for a mission, Jason would watch, his jaw clenched and fists tight. You were his sanctuary, and the thought of sharing you with anyone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

Jason always found reasons to keep you close. He insisted on sparring with you during training, claiming no one else could push him like you did. He memorized the way you moved, the sound of your laughter when you managed to pin him, and the way your eyes narrowed in concentration. He lived for those moments.

Whenever you went on patrol, Jason was there, watching your back like a hawk. At first, you thought he was just being protective, but over time, his behavior grew more intense. If a thug so much as glanced at you the wrong way, Jason’s fists would leave them unrecognizable. “They deserved it,” he’d mutter, his knuckles dripping with blood, his gaze softening only when it landed on you.

Jason began planting seeds of doubt about everyone around you. He’d point out flaws in Dick’s plans, subtly criticize Bruce’s parenting, and even question Alfred’s judgment, all to make you feel like he was the only one you could truly rely on.

When Jason died, it shattered you. The boy who had been your closest friend, your partner in everything, was gone. Bruce tried to comfort you, but nothing could fill the void Jason left behind.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, his first thought was of you.

You. The only light he’d ever known. The one thing that kept him tethered to humanity. And you hadn’t saved him.

His obsession became worse, this bitter, consuming need to make you pay for abandoning him—and to keep you. Jason spiraled, his love for you warping into something darker, something unrecognizable.

Jason stalks you now, though he doesn’t see it that way. He calls it watching over you. You’re his, and Gotham is dangerous, especially with the Bat family’s enemies constantly circling.

He knows everything: where you go, who you talk to, what makes you smile. The line between love and control blurs with each passing day.

Sometimes, he visits you in secret. You’ll come home to find your favorite meal waiting on the counter or a new book sitting on your bedside table. Other times, you’ll catch glimpses of him in the shadows—just a flicker of red and black before he’s gone.

And then there are the times he lets himself be seen. He’ll stand in the middle of your apartment, waiting for you to come home. His voice is low, almost dangerous, as he says, “You don’t lock your windows, princess. Someone could get hurt.”

You try to confront him, try to reason with him, but Jason isn’t the boy you knew. He’s sharper now, more unhinged.

“You think you can just forget me?” he growls, pinning you against the wall. “You think you can move on, live your life without me? That’s not how this works princess.”

Jason’s obsession manifests in unpredictable ways. One moment, he’s protective and tender, swearing to keep you safe at all costs. The next, he’s violent and possessive, tearing apart anyone who gets too close to you.

He’s killed for you, though he’d never admit it. That coworker who flirted with you too much? Dead in an alleyway. The stranger who catcalled you on the street? Beaten within an inch of their life.

“I’m doing this for you,” he says, his voice trembling with something raw and desperate. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you. I’ll take care of it.”

You try to push him away, but it only makes him cling harder. Jason doesn’t see the line between love and obsession. To him, it’s all the same.

Jason’s ultimate goal is simple: to have you. To keep you with him, away from the dangers of Gotham—and away from anyone else.

“I’m not asking, princess,” he says one night, dragging you into his arms. “I’m taking you. No one else gets to have you. Not Bruce, not Dick, not anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll burn this city to the ground before I let you go.”

And maybe, deep down, a part of you doesn’t want him to. Because for all his madness, Jason is still Jason—the boy who made you laugh, who understood your pain, who loved you in a way no one else ever could.

But at what cost?

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (one)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

masterlist

Ten minutes late, not a big deal. 

Fifteen minutes late, but it’s okay, because maybe it took longer than he thought to find a book on Battletoads for Avery. Maybe his bike tires got a flat. You told him it would’ve been faster if he had just taken your car, but he insisted on taking his bike to get in a quick workout. What a jock response, you had laughed at him for it.

Thirty minutes late. Okay, you were starting to worry, picking up your phone every couple of seconds to see if there was any texts, calls, any form of update from him. You type out a quick, ‘Are you on your way?’ and press send.

Nothing. You flipped your phone down on the table, tapping on your thighs as you tried not to think of the worst case scenarios.

Forty five minutes late. You flipped your phone back to face you, a soft, sad smile on your face at Zach’s face on your lockscreen. A frown etched itself into your features when you saw no messages.

You pressed the call button by his name, and it went straight to voicemail. Weird. Was his phone dead? Did he fall asleep and kept his phone off? All the possibilities swirled in your head, wondering, contemplating, worrying. 

ᯓᡣ𐭩

Apparently, it was known to all of the above. You had gone by his dorm to see that he was gone, his roommate saying he had already come by with his parents to get his overnight bag.

“Yeah, Y/N, he said he was going on the ski trip with his folks and his girlfriend…” his roommate trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at you.

The confusion between the two of you was ear shattering. You were Zach’s girlfriend, so why the hell are you not with Zach going on this ski trip with him and his folks?

You watched his roommates lips press into an awkward line, sympathy written in his eyes as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Sorry,” was all he was able to say.

You just nodded, looking away. “Thanks,” you mumbled, and hurried back to your dorm.

Was this Zach’s sick and twisted way of breaking up with you? You had gotten new snow gear just for this trip, all ready and packed back at your dorm. You had been ready for a while now, nervous and excited about meeting his family, like the two of you had planned. His parents had heard so much about you, according to Zach, and his little sister, Avery, wanted to play Battletoads with you, apparently. Zach’s cousin, Miles, was even joining since he was in town from MIT. 

You tried to think of all the things that could’ve gone wrong that you hadn’t even realized. You and Zach had been seeing each other for almost four months now, having met at the beginning of the semester when he needed help in his English Literature course to keep his grades up since it was soccer season.

Zach MacLaren was your college’s school soccer star, and you worked in the tutoring center that was specifically for college students, the SASS, for Student Athlete Support Services. While the tutor girl x jock trope is one of your favorites, dating back to the Naley days of One Tree Hill, there were no moments of chatter where he was annoying you in the guise of flirting or acting like he was too above it all.

Zach was a total sweetheart and the epitome of a lover boy. With a competitive streak and the type of banter that could only be described best as the kind that made it impossible to stop smiling as you tried to think of witty comebacks, dating Zach has felt as if it were quite literally, better than the movies.

If you two ever fought, it was those types of arguments couples were just bound to get into—stress induced irritation, differing opinions on non-deal breaking topics, learning to navigate the fact that you are two different and individual people who are trying to also learn how to be together as a unit.

That day specifically, you could not pinpoint anything you had done that could have upset Zach. You both got coffee that morning on campus before classes, gone through the checklist of things you needed to make sure you packed before he picked you up after classes and his trip to the bookstore near campus, and went on your merry ways. 

His family lived about two hours away from school. Even though it was only weeks away from finals and then, happily, the three-week winter/holiday break, his family wanted to go to a ski resort since the mountains had already gotten snow, and Zach’s cousin Miles was in town just for the weekend.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

You took it pretty hard that weekend, especially the way none of your texts got delivered and your calls kept going straight to voicemail. You debated over and over asking your mutual friends if they could get ahold of Zach for you, scared he had blocked you or something. But you didn’t want the humiliation of finding out you and Zach had broken up through mutual friends. 

You had to hear it from him. 

So, on Monday morning, around the time Zach had originally told you that you guys would be driving back in from the ski lodge since you two had to coordinate if you’d be missing any classes Monday, you parked your car in front of his parents’ house. You had their address from when his parents had mailed you a Thanksgiving family photo card a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, you kept every letter ever sent to you in a box, so you still had the envelope it came in, even if the photo itself was attached to your fridge back on via magnet.

You watched as cars drove past the street, wishing you and Zach looking for Zach’s parents. You never met them, not even through FaceTime, but you had seen photos of them on Zach’s Instagram. Somehow, fate never linked up that you would meet them at his games. You tried to go to all of them, but you still worked at the tutoring center, so sometimes, your tutoring sessions collided with his game schedule. 

Since it was a two hour drive from his hometown, his parents usually watched the livestream of the games, but tried to make a few. It was never the ones you were at. For Thanksgiving, you had flown all the way back home to your own hometown, so another missed opportunity to meet them.

He hadn’t posted anything from the ski trip, you felt too awkward if you went and followed Miles, who was private. You felt embarrassed that you were even checking Miles’ instagram for any glance of your boyfriend, anyways. And maybe even more embarrassed when you checked to see if either of his parents had an Instagram—they don’t—or if Avery, as young as she was, had one. She did, but it was private. Smart girl.

When their car finally pulled into the driveway, you waited until they all started to pile out of the car to get out of yours. But you paused from across the street, blinking rapidly as a girl got out of the middle row with Zach and Miles. 

You knew her. Zoey Miller. Your name was Y/N Zoey L/N, with a bunch of your old high school friends calling you “Zoey” as a habit from when you didn’t want to go by your first name. Since starting college, you’d slowly gotten back into the habit of using your real first name. However, here had been a few times where you’d hear “Zoey” called out in a shared class with her, and turn when they meant her and not you.

Zach even called you “Zoey” a few times, after a FaceTime call he had with your best friend who told him if he didn’t take care of you, she’d come fly in to beat him personally. He laughed off the threat, promising he’d gladly let her, if the situation that would never ever occur on his watch, did somehow occur.

Since when were they even friends? Not that you needed to know all of his friends, but you did somehow know most of them. You didn’t think Zoey Miller was on that list. And then you saw him put his arm around her.

So, you walk up the driveway, calling out Zach’s name softly but loud enough you could be heard, your heart pounding in your ear as you took a nervous breath. Was this it? Were you two really over? You needed to know. You watch as he, his entire family, and Zoey all turn around to look at you. And the next few moments take you for a trip. It was all a bit of a blur, like you weren’t quite sure if you were really experiencing the moment or not.

Someone had asked who you were. You saw Zach look at you like he had never seen you before. Were you really that unimportant?

“I…” you breathe out as you try to gather the words. “I’m Zach’s girlfriend.”

His eyes furrowed at you, mouth slightly ajar. You’ve seen that confused look on his face before, like when you’d ask him discussion questions on a book he hadn’t fully read when he should have during tutoring.

“No, that’s Zach’s girlfriend,” you think it was his mom who said it, though you weren’t looking at anyone but Zach.

It was hard to stomach the way he was looking at you like you were a stranger. You suck in a painful breath when you heard he had a different girlfriend. What was with this guy and girls with Zoey in their name, anyways?

“Oh,” you breathe out, whispering your words. “I see.”

You look to Zoey Miller, seeing the remorse in her eyes. Had she had know Zach never actually broke up with you? Is that why she looked so guilty.

You look at Zach, trying to bite your tongue back. But a bitter, “Thanks for telling me first,” fell from your lips with a scoff. 

And despite the fact you came there to hear it from Zach’s lips personally, you were sure you’d start crying in front of his parents, his sister, his favorite cousin, and his new girlfriend, and that embarrassment felt worse than not getting the answers or closure you needed. Maybe you’d just give him an earful when you’d eventually need to go to his dorm to give him back his shit you had and take your own back.And you turned around without waiting for any other answers, responses, anything. You practically ran back to your car, trying to start it up and get back on the road before you started to cry.

two >

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 10 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Thank you for reading.

Thanks again to everyone who commented. You brightened my days, you are the best thank you. ❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapitre 10

“It’s been three fucking days, Rhys,” Azriel exploded, standing up from behind the bushes where they were hiding. He looked down at his two brothers kneeling beside him, his breathing shaky and rapid. He tried to calm down but nothing worked. He never could. Ever since he had met Luxiana, he had been angry all the time, angry because fear was devouring him. He needed to be near her to know she was safe, but the whole world seemed to want to get between her and him.

Rhysand blew out a breath as he closed his eyes, used to his brothers' mood swings during those last weeks, but he had to say that these last few days were even worse. Even for him. He also had so much more trouble concentrating. He knew it was because it had been three weeks since they had returned from the Archerons and that, consequently, Luxiana was with Tamlin during all this time. 

He wasn't sleeping anymore. Cassian wasn't eating anymore and Azriel was screaming and fighting all the time. They were losing their minds. But they were so scared. So scared that something would happen to their soulmate. So many bad things could happen to her that it was driving the Illyrians completely crazy with worry.

They hadn't heard from her and hadn't been able to take any news anyway. Firstly so as not to arouse Tamlin's suspicions but also because they were busy elsewhere. Busy finding a reliable way to capture the Suriel. They had even completely neglected the other matters concerning the King of Hybern, they weren't even looking for the second part of the book when it was more than vital to find it. No, as soon as they got back, they had thrown themselves body and soul into the search for the Suriel. Even Cassian had read countless books to try to find a way to capture the creature.

They had ended up, after two weeks of intensive searching, going to a dark and gloomy forest to the west with the aim of setting a trap for the Suriel. They had read in some books that the creature had a taste for freshly dead chickens.

They had been hiding in the bushes for three days, hoping the Suriel would fall into their traps. And the number of chickens they had to kill, and which now lay in a mountain in front of them, was astronomical. But the Suriel was still not there.

Cassian stood up in turn, sighing. "He's right Rhys, it's not working. We're wasting our time. We have to find another solution. We have no more time to waste away from her. I... I can't anymore." He looked sad and tired. The dark circles under his eyes made him look puny and he had lost a little weight.

They all three looked equally bad anyway.

Rhys stood up too, his eyes downcast. They were right. They were so pitiful. But what else could they do? It was a dead-end solution. He needed to know if this woman was their soulmate but at the same time it seemed so true that it seemed wrong to have to ask. Besides, in the meantime she was at Tamlin's, she might be in danger and that was killing him. "Alright," he breathed with all his might, "let's find another solution."

Cassian nodded and Azriel gritted his teeth. He had been gritting his teeth for weeks anyway. “Let’s go,” he spat nastily but involuntarily.

Rhysand took a step forward, moving closer to his brothers so he could teleport them with him. But suddenly, a furtive shadow danced at the corners of their pupils, making them turn their heads to the side.

They almost jumped, their eyes widening in surprise. There, perched on a huge fallen and half-rotten tree, only a few steps away from them, was a pale, livid creature. The Suriel. It had just appeared and sat on the trunk, as if nothing had happened. The creature crossed its legs as it raised one of its thin hands, playing with its long fingers and making appear with a strange magic a white teacup more ordinary than anything there that was here.

The three Illyrians gaped, even less surprised when the Suriel took a sip of his steaming hot tea. What the hell was going on? They glanced at their trap and frowned when they saw it still intact. The Suriel had come on his own?

“You had questions for me?” the Suriel spoke in a distant voice, as if from another dimension. He took another sip of his drink, savoring the flavor of the Illyrians’ surprise in front of him.

“You…” Rhysand began, searching for words, still not believing his eyes. He glanced at his brothers who looked as confused as he did. He took a step forward, towards the pale creature. “You surrendered on your own?”

The creature nodded and raised his teacup into the air. "You had questions," he repeated as his only reply.

Cassian frowned. He was going to ask the Suriel why he was here. Why he had come of his own free will, but the omniscient creature already knew his question. It answered him without Azriel even having to speak. "Because you have questions to ask me, the answers to which are extremely important."

Azriel narrowed his eyes. He was disturbed. His shadows didn't even seem to detect the creature and the fact that it surrendered itself was more than suspicious. It was hiding something and he didn't have time for secrets. Not when his soulmate was in danger. Not when Luxiana was possibly his soulmate and that he had already wasted too much time away from her. "Why didn't you surrender before then? Three days ago when we arrived, for example, or even before if you know everything. We've been trying to meet you for weeks."

“Because it wasn’t the right time, now it is. Now, you are ready to hear the answers to your questions.” The creature stared at them with a blank, creepy gaze that made Cassian shiver. The Suriel didn’t seem to feel any emotion, but when he looked at the three Faes in front of him, feelings stirred in his chest. Their relationship with that girl would determine the future of the world. “Ask your questions.”

It was at that moment that the three Illyrians realized. The Suriel was in front of them. It didn't matter why or how he had gotten there. He was there. That meant they were going to have the answers to their questions. The questions they had been asking themselves for weeks.

A ball of anxiety crushed their stomachs in one violent blow, burning their eyes, making their breaths cut and their muscles tremble. It might all be over very quickly. She might not be their soulmate and then it would all be done. But damn, they were so afraid of that. Of losing this woman. And if she was their soulmate… Yes, it would fill them with joy, of course, but also with anxiety.

A silence fell. A silence that none of the three Illyrians wanted to break. They were too afraid of the answers they might get. Normally, they could have been brave but today, this fear was overwhelming. After all, they didn't only have their fear and anxiety to deal with but those of their two brothers as well.

Cassian looked down. He was tired. He and his brothers were warriors. They had lived through wars and battles. Seen and suffer through horrors but they had never been so afraid and they had never felt so cowardly as they did now. It wasn't him. It wasn't them. This had to end. He needed to know.

Azriel froze, with all his muscles tense. He was terrified, he felt almost in danger of death. Then suddenly, he thought of Luxiana, he saw her smiling face in his mind and smelled her vanilla scent even though she wasn't there. He relaxed. He had no doubts anyway. He knew who she was to him. She was his soulmate and that was all that mattered. He just needed her. And then, he could accept sharing her with his brothers if it meant he could have her for himself a little.

Rhysand had to ask the question. He had to, he knew it. It had to come from him. He was Cassian and Azriel's lord. He had to help them through their trials. He had to be braver and more courageous than they were. But the truth was, if he were truly brave and courageous, he wouldn't be here. He would have left Luxiana far away from them, far away from him. Far away from the danger they are for her. But he was selfish. Terrified and selfish. He wanted her. "Is Luxiana our soulmate?" He spoke, softly, trembling, almost inaudibly, but the Suriel didn't really need to hear the question.

The Suriel was just waiting for him to ask it, because that would mean they were ready to hear the answer. And now, they were. "Yes," he answered simply.

A weight lifted from the shoulders of the three Illyrians before crashing down on them again, making them capsize and stumble, as if the earth beneath their feet had trembled. Rhysand fell to his knees, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Cassian let himself fall buttocks to the ground in the same state as Rhysand. Azriel tensed his muscles so much that he gained a few centimeters.

Rhysand couldn't breathe anymore but at the same time he took in deep breaths of fresh air that filled his lungs. So many conflicting feelings were overwhelming him. His eyes began to sparkle. She was his soulmate. Luxiana was truly his soulmate. He began to smile, his heart beating painfully in his chest. Then his joy faded. She was his soulmate and she was with Tamlin, his worst enemy. She was his soulmate and she was human. But he had met his soulmate!

Cassian's legs couldn't hold the weight of the enormity that had fallen on him. This sexy, intelligent and characterful woman was really his soulmate? He was so lucky. But at the same time he felt cursed by the cauldron. His wings fell limply on his back, he no longer had the strength to make them stand up straight. A barbed wire surrounded his throat. His soulmate was a human. She was fragile. She only had a few precious days before leaving him... He couldn't bear it. His eyes began to burn. He had to take advantage of the time he still had with her.

Azriel felt empty. Completely and abysmally empty. He had experienced so much in the last few weeks and it had all stopped suddenly. He didn't realize it. He didn't understand. It wasn't possible. There were three of them. He couldn't accept sharing his soulmate with his brothers. "It's impossible. She can't be our true mate. Not for all three of us. We can't have multiple soulmates."

He thought out loud but the Suriel had only been waiting for this opportunity. And the intrigued eyes of Cassian and Rhysand who had looked up at him were just waiting for an answer. "It is very rare, so rare that the history of the world has only seen this phenomenon occur three times. Three small times in billions of years of existence."

Azriel shook his head, still not believing it. "But how? Why?"

The Suriel took a slow sip of tea, waiting to fully capture the attention of the three Illyrians. "Sometimes, when the history of the world is at one of its turning points, fate takes the side of a part. Unfortunately, it cannot drastically influence the course of history but it can rig it. Help its favored side win by giving it advantages and facilities."

Cassian stood up slowly, reeling, just as confused as his two brothers. "I don't understand," he said, feeling like none of this had to do with them or Luxiana.

The Suriel already knew what the Illyrien with the red siphons was going to say, he smiled. "Some people are born to influence the history of the world, such as Luxiana. And fate took your side by binding you to her."

Rhysand sank further towards the ground, somehow stopping himself from falling completely onto the damp earth. Each of the Suriel's words made his realization and what was happening grow ever larger.

“Why the three of us?” Azriel cried, his eyes burning, his fists clenched. There had to be a reason. There had to be a reason why fate had decided that he would not be enough for his soulmate on his own.

"Because destiny is not the only entity to decide. Because other factors that come into decision have decided to give a balance to everything. And that's what they did with Luxiana. A being so capable of great things cannot subsidize for eternity. That's why she is so fragile. So strong but so fragile. It is the balance of nature that destiny wanted to thwart a little by binding you to her. To protect her. To save her so that she can influence the world as she is supposed to do."

Azriel realized suddenly. Like a hammer blow that fell on him, breaking him into lots of little pieces. His legs gave away and he joined the ground with Rhysand, the air no longer even penetrating his throat that was too tight.

The three Illyrians, trembling until then, understood. They finally understood. They had been bound to Luxiana by destiny to love her, cherish her and protect her. To allow her to change the course of history.

It necessarily implied that she would be in danger and that terrified them but it also implied that everything made sense. That she was so important to the world that destiny had decided to bind her to the three strongest warriors in this country. Their soul mate. It was now a certainty. She was their soul mate. She was their soul mate!

Cassian laughed. He laughed with all his might, bending in two to hold his stomach with both hands. The weight of worry and fear he had felt all those days had disappeared. He laughed with relief, then joy, then excitement. He was going to have to fight to protect his soulmate and damn it, he would do it with pleasure. He knew how to fight and he was even very good at it. His soulmate would be fine because he would protect her with all his might. She was his soulmate and he was going to be able to go get her, he was going to be able to spend time with her. His heart swelled in his chest and his dark circles almost disappeared by themselves. He had found his soulmate and she was incredible. She was perfect. And she was his soulmate.

Rhysand began to smile too, lightening up just as much as Cassian. Everything was explained. Everything. And at the same time, everything that the Suriel had just told them was so unimportant. So unimportant when he was now certain that he had met his soul mate. He was able to take a deep breath and although his heart was still a little tight with apprehension and fear, it didn't matter. It didn't matter because he would face the difficulties with his soul mate by his side. A tear ran down his cheek. He almost felt like he was floating in the air thinking about Luxiana and her scent. Already imagining the life they were going to have together. At four. That was why destiny had made him so close to his brothers. He no longer had any doubts about anything now. He was going to do everything to protect his soul mate. Everything. And he intended to enjoy his days with her.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In fact, he took several. He was terrified. He had to resign himself for the well-being of his soulmate, to share her with his brothers. He had to do it for her to be happy and to protect her. In truth, the more he thought about it, the more it chased away the enormous weight from his body. The more he thought about Luxiana loving her brothers, the calmer he became. As long as she was happy, that was what mattered. That was what he wanted more than anything. For her to be happy and safe. Especially since he was going to need his brothers' help to protect his clumsy soulmate. His Luxiana. The Suriel had said that nature had balanced things out by making Luxiana fragile, and he was so afraid of not being good at the task of protecting her. He was so afraid of failing. But at the same time, he began to vibrate. To vibrate with excitement. He had then deserved to meet his soulmate and even if destiny punished him by giving him a fragile woman, he would do penance and protect her with all his soul. She was human but he was not going to let her be hurt.

The Suriel suddenly laughed, startling the three Illyrians. "Is she?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

The three brothers slowly calmed down, and looked at each other in confusion. What was he talking about? No one had spoken and none of them had said anything.

"You should go," the Suriel said, interrupting their train of thought. "Go to her, because she's not going to affect the history if you're not by her side, and you won't be by her side if she falls in love with someone else."

The three of them froze, jumping up, suddenly looking cold and serious. They had just learned that Luxiana was indeed their soulmate. They had just learned that they could finally possess her and that nothing was holding them back anymore but now, the Suriel was telling them that she could fall in love with someone else.

"A redhead for example, one of the sons high lords. She seems to like him much more than she should."

“Lucien?” Azriel cried out, realizing who the Suriel was talking about. His heart began to pound wildly in his chest and his fists clenched. He should have killed that bastard when he had the chance. How dare he even think about stealing his soulmate?

"I'm going to crush that bastard's head!" Cassian spat, clenching his fists in front of him, imagining the redhead's face in them. He swore that if it was too late and his soulmate had started loving someone else, he would kill him to take his place. All his evil instincts were awakening under this jealousy. But now that he knew that Luxaina was his soulmate, he had no reason to hold them back because after all, she was his.

Rhysand felt a mixture of emotions. Fear, stress, but also joy and excitement. He had gotten a kind of green light from the Suriel to love this woman and that was all he had been waiting for. He felt like he had lived only for her. Only to meet her and although that was maybe a little bit of the case, it made him happy. She seemed so worth it. He was suddenly so eager to get to know her. She was his soulmate for goodness sake, the woman of his life. He had no reason to keep her away from him anymore, even less now that the Suriel had told him he had to protect her. "Let's go get her," he wanted to look up at the Suriel to thank him but in a cloud of strange magic, he disappeared.

They had no more time to waste. All three of them took a deep breath, calming themselves down, regaining a cool head, mentally preparing themselves, thinking of a plan. Then they teleported to Tamlin's. They were going to get their soulmate back.

[littlelamy]

Rafe taking care of Reader who goes through a depressive episode. She’s feeling like she is a burden and feels like everyone would be happier with her gone. Maybe things are pretty new between them, only gone on a few dates so she obviously (like most) isn’t going to tell him anything and doesn’t think she matters to a guy she has gone on a few dates with anyway, so she just stops responding to his texts

a/n: thank you for requesting!⭐️ i hope i wrote it appropriately to what you requested 🙂💗

the first time rafe noticed something was off, it was subtle—just a missed text here and there. maybe a delayed reply. nothing unusual at first. he probably told himself you were busy. everyone has those days where life gets hectic.

but when hours stretched into days and your replies went from short to nonexistent, he started to feel that quiet pull of worry.

“hey, you okay?” he texted the day before, after his third unanswered message.

you saw it pop up on your screen. his name glowed against the darkness of your room, and for a moment, your heart ached with the idea of answering. but then the thought crept in.

he’s just being polite. he barely knows you. he’s probably relieved you stopped answering anyway.

so you let the screen go dark.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. it wasn’t like you two were serious. you’d only gone on a handful of dates, and even though every moment with rafe had been sweet and effortless, there was no way someone like him could actually care.

you’d been wrong about people before.

the weight in your chest had only grown heavier over the past few weeks. even getting out of bed felt impossible some days, let alone pretending to be okay for someone like rafe cameron. so, you didn’t bother. you shut your phone off, buried it under a pillow, and let the world fade into static.

the knock at your door startled you.

at first, you thought it might’ve been a neighbor or a delivery driver, someone just passing through. but then it came again, louder this time, more deliberate.

“y/n?”

you froze, your breath catching as his voice carried through the door.

“it’s rafe.”

you stared at the door like it might open on its own. the last thing you wanted was to face him, especially like this. but hearing his voice made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“i, uh…” he hesitated, the sound of him shifting his weight audible through the thin walls. “i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

you stayed silent, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. but deep down, you knew rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to just walk away.

“you don’t have to let me in,” he added, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “just… let me know you’re alright.”

you clenched your fists, trying to will the lump in your throat away. how were you supposed to explain that you weren’t alright? that you hadn’t been alright in weeks?

the knock came again, gentler this time.

“i’m not leaving until i know you’re okay,” he said firmly, though there was no anger in his voice. only concern.

you sat frozen for what felt like forever, listening to the silence on the other side of the door. maybe he’d given up. maybe he was walking away right now, realizing this wasn’t worth his time.

but then your phone buzzed from where it lay buried under the pillow.

you hesitated before reaching for it, your hands trembling as you unlocked the screen.

rafe <3: hey, i’m outside your place. not trying to bother you, i just wanted to check in. if you need space, i get it. just let me know you’re alright, okay?

your chest ached as you read the words. there was nothing demanding about them, nothing that made you feel guilty or trapped. he wasn’t asking for anything except to know you were safe.

and that made it worse somehow.

because you weren’t.

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[didyoulookforme]

though i wish i could

you and matty decide to help each other out. because that's obviously what best friends do. slightly based on letter T of the nsfw alphabet

7.7k words

warning: 18+, smut, smoking. grammatical errors, typos.

other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.

-----

it was one of those nights—the kind where matty showed up unannounced, a cigarette tucked behind his ear and some super genius plan to pass the evening. maybe it’d be a god awful movie, maybe a record you’d practically worn out together. it didn’t matter. it never did. it was familiar, easy, predictable. best friend stuff—or at least that’s what you told yourself.

except best friends don’t usually lie on your lap with their head resting softly as you run your fingers through their wild, curly hair. they don’t absentmindedly toy with the rings on your hand like they’re trying to memorize the way they feel. and they certainly don’t slip a casual “baby” into every other sentence, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. no, that’s not normal best friend behavior. but this was matty. he was different. always had been.

you’ve convinced yourself that this is just how the two of you are. how you’ve always been—so close you know each other inside and out, with almost no boundaries left to cross. so, what’s wrong with placing a half-finished joint between his lips while his eyes pierce into yours like he’s searching for something you’re not sure you want him to find?

because, after all, he was just your best friend. nothing more.

right?

-----

so there you were—half-baked on the floor of your living room, matty’s head resting on your legs like it belonged there. he’d just come back from tour, and, let’s be honest, keeping you two apart afterward was practically impossible. no matter how long he’d been gone, the second you were together again, it was like no time had passed.

not that it didn’t absolutely wreck you when he was away. facetime calls and texts were fine, sure, but they weren’t him. they weren’t his stupid laugh echoing through your tiny flat, or the way he’d complain about your snack choices while demolishing half the bag anyway. having him here again, sprawled out on your carpet like he’d been there all along, felt… right. comfortable.

you missed him more than you’d ever dare admit, so this—him, a joint lazily passing between you, his voice weaving into the crackle of the record spinning nearby—felt like something you didn’t want to let go of. he felt like home… within your home...? something like that. whatever it was, you were maybe too stoned to overanalyze it right now.

his hair was different since the last time you’d seen him in the flesh. it had that purposeful, messy-but-not-really look—soft curls held in place with just enough gel to make him seem like a bad boy who’d totally just rolled out of bed. you’d seen it for the first time on twitter when a photo of him mid-concert popped up on your feed. it took exactly three seconds before you were calling him, demanding why he’d chosen to ruin your life with the audacity of that look.

“thought you’d like it,” he’d said, all smug.

and you did. of course, you fucking did.

your fingers slid through those same curls now, twirling a strand here, tucking another behind his ear. his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a soft hum. that stupid, crooked smile of his practically begged for it. you knew this was the kind of thing you only let yourself do when you were high—or drunk, or tipsy enough. it was the only time your guard dropped enough to touch him like this. 

and then there were his lips. moving. saying something. but you weren’t listening. you were too busy internally freaking out because, only a few days ago, you’d finally admitted to yourself that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t see him as just a friend. that perhaps you lo—

“hey, so… i found your arsenal of vibrators earlier today.”

and just like that, you were yanked back into reality.

“for fuck’s sake, matthew. you can’t just say that.”

“not my fault you keep your weed and sex life in the same drawer.” his grin was unholy. “kind of asking for it.”

your hand instinctively tugged his hair in protest, earning a wince and a laugh from him. “stop that!”

“stop what? speaking the truth?”

you groaned, already regretting letting him in your apartment. well, maybe not, but still. “i can’t believe you went snooping.”

“wasn’t snooping. was looking for weed and happened to find your box.”

you tried to glare at him, but it lasted all of two seconds before you cracked, laughing despite yourself. you hid your face in your hands again, groaning. “god, you probably saw the new one too, didn’t you?”

“oh, you mean the one that looks like it was designed by an aerospace engineer?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “yeah. terrifying, honestly. but also, kind of impressive. good for you, babe.”

“kill me now.” you slumped back against the couch, mortified.

“why? better me finding it than someone else, right?” he tilted his head back against your legs, looking up at you.

“okay, sure,” you said, trying for nonchalance, “but ‘arsenal’? really? it’s a perfectly normal amount.”

he snorted. “baby, there are at least seventeen in there. and in all shapes, sizes, colors—hell, i’m pretty sure one of them was glowing.”

“first of all, it’s not glowing—it’s neon,” you corrected, crossing your arms over your chest. “and second, so what if i enjoy options?”

“options, huh? right. i’ll keep that in mind,” he took a slow drag from the joint, cheeks hollowing in a way that made you forget why you were mad for half a second.

it was infuriating, really. matty, who was usually sweet and soft-spoken, had an alarming tendency to let loose when he was high. most of the time, it was harmless. occasionally, though, he’d push his luck. like tonight, apparently. maybe this was payback for the years you’d spent grilling him about his girlfriends you’ve never liked.

you sighed, leaning back against the couch as he passed the blunt back to you, his eyes never leaving yours. and even though he’d just embarrassed the hell out of you, you couldn’t help but smile.

“so, how often do you even use them?” the question came out easy, casual, like it was no big deal to pry into the most intimate corners of your life. typical best friend behaviour, sure.

“what, you want an exact schedule? why?”

“just curious. purely educational. broadening my horizons.”

you rolled your eyes, the spliff perched loosely between your fingers as you handed it back to him. “couple times a week. three if it’s been a particularly boring stretch. maybe more if i’m in the mood.”

he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, staring up at the ceiling like he’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery. “three times a week,” he repeated, his lips twitching. “that’s… respectable. consistent.”

“you’re such a dick.” you laughed, swatting at his arm. “and you?”

he hesitated as he scratched the back of his neck. “uh… couple times a week too, i guess. but it’s tricky on tour, y’know? not a lot of privacy when you’re sharing a bus with others.”

you raised a brow, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “oh my god, you’ve been walked in on, haven’t you?”

and his cheeks flushed instantly, a deep, satisfying pink. “hann.”

that was it—you were gone, full-on laughing, your body shaking so hard you nearly toppled over. the weed didn’t do you any favours. “hann? no way. what did he do?”

“just… stared,” he groaned, covering his face with one hand. “and then, after a solid five seconds of the most soul-crushing silence, he goes, ‘at least close the door next time, mate.’”

“poor adam. scarred for life.”

“poor me,” he countered, but his voice was softer this time, the kind that slid under your skin and lingered. your fingers found his curls again, and he didn’t protest, just let you touch him like it was something that was meant to happen. the air around you shifted, heavier somehow, the haze of smoke thickening it.

you weren’t sure who moved first, but his head turned slightly, his cheek pressing against your thigh, and suddenly you were all too aware of every point of contact between you. his curls against your hand, the warmth radiating from him, the way your own body was buzzing, humming with something you still didn’t want to name. you adjusted your position, trying to ease the growing ache low in your stomach, but it didn’t help. not when he was right there.

“when’s the last time you had sex?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted it. your voice sounded too curious, like you actually cared about the answer. which, of course, you did, you just didn’t want him to know.

he laughed, a short, sad sound. “been months.”

that caught you off guard. “really? but you’re matty.”

“yeah, and?” he looked up at you, his eyes almost amused. “what, you think i’m shagging my way through the world or something?”

“kinda,” you admitted with a shrug. “i mean, isn’t that, like, part of the job?”

“not really my thing,” his voice was quieter now. “done it a couple times, but… i don’t know. feels a bit shit after. not worth it.”

you didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything, just let your fingers keep moving over his scalp. he reached for your hand after a moment, his thumb brushing over the rings you wore. it was a small, mindless gesture, but it made your chest tighten all the same.

“what about you?” he asked finally, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“a few months ago,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on where his hand held yours. “with my ex.”

he nodded, his thumb still tracing the curve of your ring. “sorry. about him.”

“don’t be,” you said quickly, trying to push past the lump in your throat. “i’m better off.”

he didn’t respond, just gave you a faint smile that said he understood in a way words couldn’t. the silence stretched between you again, the static of the record the only sound. his fingers kept brushing over your hand, and every now and then you caught him shifting, adjusting his position on the floor.

you stared at him for a long moment, your mind racing, the words forming before you could stop them. “you ever think maybe…”

he turned his head slightly, “maybe what?”

“maybe we could, i don’t know…” you hesitated, your pulse thundering so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out your voice. “help each other out. just… take the edge off.”

he froze, mid-drag. his brows furrowed, his eyes sharp even through the haze of smoke. “you’re fucking with me now.”

“i’m not,” you said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice came out. “just think about it. no big deal. two friends helping each other out.”

“you’re actually joking.” his voice cracked on the last word, which would’ve been funny if your heart wasn’t beating so fast.

“i’m not,” you leaned back, feigning nonchalance as your heart clawed its way into your throat. “we’re both adults. both single. both… frustrated.”

“frustrated,” he repeated, the word hanging heavy in the air. “and this is your solution?”

“it’s a solution,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes slightly. “what, you’ve got a better idea?”

he laughed, but it wasn’t his usual easy, warm laugh. this one was stilted, like he wasn’t sure if he found this funny or terrifying. “this feels like some teenage bullshit, honestly. like, next you’re gonna ask me to pinky swear it won’t ruin our friendship.”

“oh, grow up,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “it’s not that deep.”

but it was. at least for you. the idea had been sitting at the edge of your mind for months, years now, clawing its way forward every time he looked at you with those big, earnest eyes that made your chest feel too tight. maybe it was the weed, or the way he was looking at you now, like you’d just flipped his world upside down, but for the first time, the thought slipped out into the open.

“you’re not worried it’ll get weird?” 

“doesn’t have to,” you said, your heart still jackhammering with every syllable. “it’s just… an itch to scratch. no strings. no awkward aftermath. unless, you know, you’re not into it.”

he scoffed, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “don’t put this on me. you’re the one who started it.”

“and i’ll end it if you want,” you said quickly, your pulse racing as he turned his head to look at you. “just say the word.”

but he didn’t say the word. he just stared at you, his gaze softer now, less sharp but still so him. like he was trying to figure out if you were serious—or maybe if he was.

“i don’t know,” he muttered finally, sitting back against the couch now. “this is… fucking mental.”

“you’re overthinking it,” you forced a small smile. “like you always do.”

“and you’re underthinking it,” he shot back with no real heat. “like you always do.”

“that’s why we’re friends, isn’t it?” you smirked, though the weight in your chest wouldn’t let you inhale properly. “we balance each other out.”

he let out a feeble laugh, his head tipping back against the sofa, exposing the curve of his neck. your fingers itched to touch him again, but this time with the excuse of… what, exactly? this favour you’d just proposed? it sounded ridiculous when he said it, but deep down, part of you wondered if you’d suggested it for more than just convenience. part of you wondered if it was because you’d always wanted to be his, but you’d never been brave enough to find out if he wanted the same.

“you’re sure about this?” his voice cut through your thoughts, softer now but still laced with that edge of uncertainty. “like, really sure?”

“yeah,” you said, even though you weren’t entirely sure of anything anymore. “are you?”

he didn’t answer right away, just took a long drag and stared at the ceiling like it might have some hidden wisdom to offer. “fuck,” he muttered, finally exhaling. “yeah, okay. fine. let’s do it.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how quickly the air shifted between you. “wait, really?”

“don’t make me say it again,” he muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips now. “but, like… no weird shit tomorrow, okay?”

“no weird shit tomorrow,” you promised, though the words felt hollow even as you said them. the truth was, everything about this already felt weird. not bad weird—just… heavy. 

“good,” he took another hit, holding it for a moment before passing it to you. “so… how do we start this?”

you took the joint from him, your fingers brushing his as you brought it to your lips. the air felt too warm, the space between you now way too small. “i don’t know,” you exhaled slowly. “you’re the one with all the bright ideas.”

“oh, i’m the one with bright ideas?” he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “this was your idea, babe.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched. “fine. guess we’ll just have to wing it.”

he smiled then, that small, weird smile that always made your chest ache. “wing it, huh? sounds about right for us.”

the tension hung heavy between, your gaze flicking to his lips before darting away. his hand brushed your knee, a casual, almost thoughtless gesture, but it made you freeze in place. your lungs pounded in your chest as you passed the joint back to him, your fingertips trembling slightly.

“just… promise me one thing,” he said finally, his voice almost hesitant.

“what’s that?” your own barely above a whisper.

“promise me this won’t mess us up.” he wasn’t looking at you now, his gaze fixed on the blunt as he turned it over in his fingers. “because i… i don’t want to lose this. lose us.”

your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over you. “we won’t,” you said, the lie slipping out easily, even though you weren’t sure if you believed it. “we’re too stubborn for that.”

he laughed softly, a small, insecure sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah. too stubborn.”

-----

the two of you ended up in your bedroom. you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten here—well, you did, technically, but the reality of it was still setting in. your pants had been the first to go, leaving you in a baby tee and a thong that felt absurdly small given the circumstances. no bra, of course. matty had tugged his shirt off with practiced ease, but you caught the slight hesitation in his movements, the tension coiled in his shoulders.

and now here you were, lying side by side, your heads level on the pillows. the rules you’d managed to set earlier echoing in your mind: no getting completely naked, no penetrative sex, no kissing on the mouth. the essentials of staying detached, you’d thought, though the warmth radiating from his body told you this was anything but.

his face was so close, just inches away, his gaze darting between yours and the ceiling like he wasn’t sure where to settle. your own focus wandered, tracing the line of his jaw, the faint scruff dotting his chin, the steady rise and fall of his chest. everything about him felt sharp and tangible, and the haze of being high didn’t soften it nearly enough.

you reached out before you could overthink it, your fingers slipping into his hair the way they had so many times that night. he let out a quiet breath, his eyes fluttering closed almost immediately. the sound sent a thrill down your limbs, and you let your touch drift lower, tracing the back of his neck.

“you like that?” it felt like a stupid question. he always leaned into your touch. still, tonight you needed his confirmation.

his nod was small, almost imperceptible.

you lingered there, your thumb grazing his skin in slow, deliberate circles. you could feel how stiff he was, the way his body held itself just a little too still. “you’re nervous,” you murmured. it wasn’t accusatory—just an observation.

his lips curved into the faintest, self-deprecating smile. “yeah. a bit.”

“we don’t have to do this,” your voice low and steady. “i mean it, matty. say the word, and we’ll stop.”

his eyes stayed shut a moment longer before he opened them, looking at you like he was trying to make up his mind. “no, i—” he paused, licking his lips. “just… need a second to get out of my head.”

you smiled softly, your thumb skimming along his jaw as you gave him the time he needed. silence filled the space between you, but you didn’t let go, your fingertips tracing his face like you were committing it to memory for the first time. the slight arch of his brows, the slope of his nose, the hollow of his cheek—everything that had always been familiar but somehow felt brand new at this second.

when your thumb brushed over his lips, his eyes met yours again, darker now but still impossibly tender. he caught your hand in his, his fingers wrapping loosely around yours, and pressed a light kiss to your knuckles. it was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a spark to your toes.

“what about you? what do you like?”

the question made your stomach flip, and you laughed nervously, biting your lip. “you’re gonna make me spell it out?”

“maybe.” there was something behind his voice—something tentative, like he didn’t quite trust himself. “just… help me out here.”

“okay, okay,” you said, your laughter fading into something quieter. you guided his hand to your side, just below your ribs. “like this, start here.”

his palm settled on your skin, warm and solid, his fingers spreading wide as if trying to feel every inch of you at once. his thumb traced the curve of your ribs, slow and tentative, and your breath hitched as your body leaned into him without a thought in your brain.

“like that?” 

you nodded, your head sinking deeper into the pillow as you let out a shaky laugh. “yeah. like that.”

his touch stayed light, his hand moving in lazy, meandering paths along your side. when his fingers skimmed your spine, your body arched slightly, the sensation making you shiver. the room was impossibly still, save for the sound of your gasping. you let yourself sink into the feeling, your eyes closing as his hand pressed firmer, the heat of him searing into your skin.

your own touch moved instinctively, sliding from the nape of his neck to his chest, your fingertips tracing the familiar lines of his tattoo. you paused at the heart inked over his skin, following its shape carefully, reverently, like it might crack under too much pressure. “this one’s always been my favourite,” you murmured, almost shy. you weren’t sure if it was okay to admit it out loud. 

his lips twitched into a faint smile, a quiet laugh escaping him. “you were there when i got it. squeezed your hand so hard i thought i’d break it.”

“you were being a baby about it,” you teased, though the memory made you grin. “all that whining over a needle.”

“so what? it hurt like hell.”

“mmhmm. sure it did.”

your hand wandered lower, brushing over the ridges of his stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down from his navel. his muscles tightened under your touch, and then—god—he let out the softest moan, barely audible but enough to make your heart ache.

your fingers stilled for just a moment before your gaze flicked up to his face. his eyes were closed, his jaw tight, his mouth slightly open like he was trying to hold himself steady. his hand came up suddenly, catching yours. for a second, you thought he was going to stop you, but instead, he guided your arm around him, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his. his face buried itself in the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel every exhale ripple through you.

“matty,” you whispered, unsure of what you even wanted to say. your fingers curled instinctively into his back, your nails dragging lightly against his skin. goosebumps rose under your touch, the realization that you’d done that sending your head spinning.

then his lips grazed your collarbone—barely, just the faintest hint of a kiss. it felt more like a question than an answer, but it shattered something inside you all the same. he kissed you again, and again, his mouth moving along the slope of your shoulder, each one feather-light yet impossible to ignore. your head fell back against the pillow, a satisfied sound escaping your throat—not quite a moan, but damn close.

his name hovered on your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it again. not yet. your body moved on instinct instead, your leg sliding over his until you were tangled together, the press of him against you making it nearly impossible to concentrate. 

“you’re—” his voice was rough, muffled against your skin as his lips kept moving. “you’re making it really fucking hard to stick to the stupid rules right now.”

“you’re one to talk,” your voice coming out breathless as your hand slid back into his hair. “you’re the one kissing me.”

“not on the mouth,” he countered, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. “that was the rule, wasn’t it?”

“semantics,” and you gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, light but sharp enough to send a shockwave through you.

whatever restraint had been holding the two of you back started slipping, unraveling faster than you could catch it. his hands roamed now—your waist, your ribs, your hips—like he couldn’t decide where to stop. your body arched into him, you gasped rapidly, your skin tingling with every touch. it was like stepping into some unspoken, forbidden space, a place neither of you could—or wanted to—leave.

his palm slid lower, curving over your ass, his fingers squeezing lightly at first, testing. the moment they dug in, the air caught in your lungs, your body going rigid for just a second. he halted immediately, his hand retreating like he’d been burned.

“shit, ’m sorry. i—”

“don’t stop,” you interrupted, your voice trembling but sure. you shifted closer, your leg brushing against his thigh as you said it again. “don’t stop. please.”

he didn’t need any more convincing. his hand was back, firmer this time, gripping and kneading, his touch bolder now that he knew it wouldn’t scare you off. you felt his thumb hook under the waistband of your thong, tugging it just enough to stretch, then letting it snap back into place. it was nothing, really, but the deliberate tease of it—the knowledge of how close he was—drew a low moan from you before you could stop it.

“fuck.” his hips pressed forward against you, seeking something, anything, to take the edge off. the weight of him, even through his pants, made your head spin, the haze of your high amplifying every sensation until it felt like you might float right out of your body. his hips moved again, slower this time, but there was no mistaking his intent—the pressure of him, hard and insistent against your hip, set every inch of you alight.

you shifted, needing something to hold onto, and your hands found their way to his neck. you tugged gently, drawing his face closer until your lips were grazing the curve of his throat. you kissed him there, gentle against his skin. his jaw tensed beneath your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile as you worked your way up, your mouth brushing over his ear.

“remember when you told me you liked this?” your lips caught the lobe, your teeth grazing it lightly before you sucked it into your mouth.

and that’s when he completely lost it.

his grunt was low and guttural and his hips jerked forward sharply, grinding against you. his hand tightened on your ass, fingers digging in hard enough to promise bruises tomorrow. you couldn’t bring yourself to care—not when his other hand was sliding up your side, his fingers gripping your ribs like he was trying to steady himself. 

“fuck,” he rasped, his head dropping forward, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “you’re—shit, you’re gonna kill me.”

“you’re the one grinding on me,” you shot back, though your voice was only a whisper. you slid your leg over his again, hooking it around his hip to pull him closer. the movement dragged a sharp gasp from him, the sound muffled against your skin, and the way he reacted—like he couldn’t get enough of you—made you grateful for suggesting this precarious idea in the first place.

his hips moved faster now as he pressed against you through the rough fabric of his jeans. it wasn’t enough—not for him, not for you—but the friction was good, so good, and you felt yourself arching into him, your body moving on instinct.

you tilted your head back, gasping as his lips found your collarbone again, his mouth soft and hot as he kissed his way down to the curve of your shoulder. his breath was ragged, uneven, brushing against your skin in bursts as he muttered something you couldn’t quite make out. you wanted to ask, but then his teeth grazed your skin and everything in you short-circuited.

“matty,” his name slipping out like a prayer. you weren’t sure what you wanted—his mouth, his hands, all of him—but you knew you needed more. your hand moved to his wrist, guiding it upward. you pressed his palm against your breast, the thin fabric of your tee doing little to mask the heat of him.

his hips stiled for a moment as he stared down at where his hand was now. “fuck me,” his voice trembled as his thumb brushed over you experimentally. his gaze flicked up to yours, his eyes dark and glassy, lips parted slightly. “you are gonna be the death of me, baby.”

you let out a faint laugh, your hand still resting over his, encouraging him to move. “then stop overthinking and touch me.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his hand squeezed gently, his thumb circling over your nipple through your shirt, and the feeling—his hand, his touch, the way he was looking at you like you were something to be worshipped—made you start coming undone. he let out a nervous laugh, the sound shaky and uncertain. “jesus, you’re—”

“you talk too much,” you muttered, pulling him back down to you, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear. the tension between you was unbearable now. a thread pulled so tight it could snap at any given moment. 

his hand squeezed your breast as his head dipped lower, his lips brushing over your throat, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to learn your body. the heat of his breath sent goosebumps racing across your skin, and by the time his mouth found its way down to your chest, you were already aching for him.

he paused, hovering just above your nipple, his face half-hidden by your shirt as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “can i?” he was barely holding himself together.

you nodded, biting your lip, your fingers slipping into his hair to pull him closer. “please.”

the second his mouth closed over you, even through the thin fabric of your shirt, your back arched, a soft gasp slipping out before you could stop it. his lips worked slowly, testing you, his tongue brushing over your nipple before his teeth bit lightly.

“fuck, matty. that—feels so good.”

“yeah?” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smirk before he moved to your other breast. he sucked harder this time, his teeth catching just enough to make you gasp again, your hands tightening in his damp curls. he alternated between the two, making sure not to neglect either while savoring every single sound you made.

the room felt impossibly hot, and so did he. you could feel the sweat slicking his skin, sticking to yours, and it should’ve been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. it was perfect. raw and messy and real, and you were so fucking turned on you could hardly think straight. 

“don’t stop,” you urged him closer. you didn’t care that your shirt was clinging to your tits now, soaked with his sweat and spit. it was intoxicating—the heat of him, the way his mouth moved against you, the little sounds he made as he pleased you.

every now and then, he glanced up at you with lips swollen and pupils blown wide. and that look—fucked-out and so completely focused on you—made your heart stutter, your chest tightening with that thing again. you didn’t let yourself think about it too much. you couldn’t.

the tension was building, unbearable, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. you fumbled blindly for your drawer. matty didn’t stop, his mouth still on you, but you could feel him pause for a second, his hand tightening on your hip.

“what’re you doing?” he muttered against your breast, his voice muffled, almost distracted.

“just—give me a bit.”

you finally found what you were looking for. you pulled out a vibrator and grabbed his hand, pressing it into his palm. “make me come,” you whispered. “please.”

his head lifted, his hair a mess, his lips shiny and red. he stared at the toy in his hand like it was some foreign object before his gaze flicked back to yours, his brows furrowed. “oh my fucking god,” he said to himself. but then he nodded eagerly, “okay, baby. yeah. i’ve got you. i’ve got you, darling.”

matty laid you back against the pillows, his movements more deliberate as his lips found yours for a fraction of a second—just a brush, not a kiss, but enough to make you both pause. you swore you saw a flicker of longing in his eyes. perhaps you were imagining things given what was happening. given that your best friend was now currently kissing down your body, his lips trailing along from your chest to your stomach, skimming the sensitive skin there before his tongue darted out. you squirmed under him, your hips lifting slightly, but he held you down with firm hands.

he moved lower, his weight shifting as he settled between your legs. his hands pushed your thighs apart gently, his lips finding the inside of one and kissing his way upward.

then you heard the familiar buzz of the vibrator. he pressed it to the inside of your thigh first, the sensation soft and teasing. “this okay?” 

you nodded quickly, gripping the sheets beneath you. “yes. please.”

he smirked, dragging the toy slowly up your thigh before pressing it against your clit through your underwear. the vibrations hit immediately, and your hips jerked as a moan slipped from your lips. he kept the pressure light at first, moving the silicon toy in small circles, watching you closely the entire time.

“you’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured, almost like he didn’t realize he was speaking out loud. his free hand stroked your thigh softly, grounding you even as the vibrations sent shivers up every bone of your spine.

he dragged the toy lower, sliding it through your clothed core, making you squirm. his head was now resting against your thigh as he teased you. “feel good?” 

“yes.” your fingers twisted in the sheets almost uncontrollably. “fuck, matty, it feels so good.”

he kept it up for a while, working you up mercilessly as you felt your underwear get drenched because of him. every now and then, he pressed it firmly against your clit, holding it there just long enough to make you gasp before pulling it away again. it drove you absolutely insane. every movement felt precise. he seemed to know exactly how to keep you tethered on the fucking edge.

and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled away entirely. you whined, your hips lifting instinctively, but then you felt his fingers hooking under the waistband of your thong. he glanced up at you, his eyes dark and questioning, and you nodded quickly, helping him slide it off.

the cool air hit you, and for a moment you felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way his eyes raked over you—reverent, almost in awe—eased the knot inside of you.

“jesus christ,” his voice barely audible, you almost didn’t catch it. “you’re perfect.”

he turned the vibrator back on, pressing it directly to your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, your hips bucking against him. he didn’t stop, didn’t pull back this time, just kept the vibrations steady as he dragged it up and down your warmth.

his hand shifted, pressing the plastic against your entrance, holding it there just long enough to make you tremble. the sensation was soft but relentless. “can i?” and those simple words sent a ripple of heat to your core.

you nodded quickly, unable to find your voice.

he pressed it in slowly, the toy stretching you inch by inch. the drag was agonizingly good, the ache sharp and perfect. your head tipped back against the pillow, lips parting as your breath caught. he didn’t rush it, watching because you knew he couldn’t help himself, his mouth hanging open slightly as it disappeared into you.

your hips tilted toward him, desperate for more, and when it was finally all the way in, he paused to ensure you were alright, that it wasn’t too much.

“don’t stop.”

he started to move, slow at first, the toy sliding in and out of you with an almost maddening rhythm. your thighs trembled against his grip, your entire body hypersensitive to the push and pull of him. the haze of your high blurred the edges of everything else until all that remained was matty and the relentless pace he set.

the thrusts grew deeper, faster, and you felt the faint roll of his hips against the mattress. the sight of him, flushed and desperate, grinding down for his own relief while his focus stayed entirely on you, made heat pool low in your stomach. he was swearing under his breath now, little fragments spilling out between wobbly breaths. 

then his mouth was on you, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before he sucked gently, pulling a broken sound from deep in your chest. it wasn’t enough—not even close—but when he found his rhythm, licking you slow and deliberate in time with the toy, you swore you could’ve died right then and there and that would’ve been alright. 

your hands flew to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. “fuck, matty.” his lips curved against you, smug even, but it didn’t matter because his tongue flicked over you again, then again, until you couldn’t think straight.

when he started sucking, harder this time, you bucked against his face, completely out of your control. he groaned into you, the sound rippling through your core. it was filthy, the way he worked you—his mouth, the vibrator, the subtle roll of his hips against the bed. 

his teeth scraped your clit, light but sharp enough to send a jolt through your entire body as you yelped. he froze for half a second, pulling back just enough to mutter, “shit. sorry—”

“don’t care,” your body already arching toward him again. “just—don’t stop.”

he didn’t. if anything, he got bolder, his lips dragging over your bud before his tongue circled it in ways that had your thighs quivering. ever so often, he’d wipe his mouth against your leg before diving back in, as if he couldn’t eat you out enough. it was messy, overwhelming, like he was making out with your cunt because he couldn’t kiss you properly, and you fucking loved it. no one had ever touched you like this. he wanted to ruin you just as much as you wanted to be ruined. completely and utterly.

you couldn’t stop convulsing, couldn’t stop moaning, your hands grabbing at anything—his shoulders, the sheets, your own hair—just to keep yourself grounded. the toy inside you was relentless, his rhythm perfect, and his mouth—god, his perfect mouth—was almost too much now. he was groaning into you, grinding harder against the sheets attempting to chase his own orgasm. 

“fuck,” he muttered again, his voice muffled against your skin. he sounded completely gone, like he was drowning in you, and that sent you hurtling over the edge. your whole body tensed as the pleasure crashed into you, sharp and overwhelming. his name spilled from your lips in broken gasps, and he didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his tongue and the toy still working you through it.

he only pulled back when your thighs started trembling uncontrollably, his lips swollen, his face shiny with your come, his chest heaving like he’d just run one hundred thousand miles. he looked absolutely wrecked, and it was the hottest fucking thing you’d ever seen.

you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, still lightheaded from the aftershocks as you reached for him with shaky but determined hands. “fuck it,” you were barely coherent, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up.

“wait—what—” he started, but you didn’t let him finish. your lips crashed into his, messy and desperate, and your world came crumbling to a halt when he froze. you thought you’d messed up everything. but when you felt his body melt into yours and finally kiss you back, it was everything and more than you had dreamed of all those lonely nights ago. his lips parted against yours, his hands sliding up to cradle your face like he, matty himself, was terrified you might disappear. like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

he shifted, bringing your heads level on the pillows, his mouth never leaving yours. the kiss was fast and uncoordinated, a little too much teeth and tongue, but you didn’t care. it was perfect. you muttered his name against his lips, and he answered with yours, his voice heavenly and breathless.

matty’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not until you were gasping for air, your lips now puffy and bruised. his forehead dropped to yours, your breaths mingling in the silence that followed, but his hands never left you, still holding on. maybe he wasn’t ready to let go.

his lips barely left yours, back to kiss you over and over again, just like two horny teenages who wanted to devour each other because it was all so new. when his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to draw a pathetic whimper from you, your palm slipped between your bodies, brushing over the rigid line of him beneath his jeans. the second you touched him, his hips jerked sharply, and he let out a sound—desperate, so devastatingly beautiful it made you whole.

you touched him again, harder this time, and he whined, another sharp, broken noise that sent a thrill straight to your gut. you’d never seen him like this—so undone, so out of control—and you just needed more. 

“help me,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the button of his jeans. “i can’t—just—help.”

he swore under his breath, fumbling with the button with clumsy digits. he got it undone after what felt like an eternity, the zipper catching slightly before it finally gave way. but he didn’t pull them down, didn’t even try. instead, his hands were back on you, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer like he needed your lips to stay alive. “should’ve done this years ago,” he muttered between kisses, his words slurring together. “fuck—wanted you for so fucking long.”

your heart raced, your chest tightening at the weight of his words, but you didn’t have time to process them. your hand slipped inside his boxers, wrapping around him, and the groan that tore out of him made you clench. he was burning under your palm, thick and hard, and when you stroked him, his whole body shuddered.

“jesus christ,” he gasped, his forehead pressing against yours as his hips bucked into your hand. “fuck, baby, you’re—.”

you stroked him again, firmer this time, your fingers sliding up his length and then back down, the slickness of him making it easier. “you’re so hard,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

his head tipped back, his jaw tight, his mouth falling open as another moan ripped through him. he wasn’t holding back, wasn’t trying to be quiet at all, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever heard. “can’t fucking help it,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “you—fuck—you don’t even know.”

“then show me,” you murmured, your hand working him faster now, matching the frantic rhythm of his hips. he swore again, louder this time, his grip digging into your waist like he was holding on for dear life.

“i’m not—” he broke off with a choked groan as your thumb brushed over the head of him. “fuck, i’m not gonna last.”

“you don’t have to,” you said sweetly. “it’s okay. just let go.”

he groaned again, his hips snapping forward, twitching in your hand as you stroked him faster. his body was a mess, his skin slick with sweat, and every breath he took was uneven, his whole chest heaving as he chased his high. you kept going, your pace relentless, until he finally broke, a loud, growling moan spilling out of him as he came. 

it was warm and sticky on your fingers, but you didn’t stop, not until he was completely spent, his body twitching in the aftermath. “shit,” he managed finally, “fuck, ‘m sorry, i—”

“don’t apologize,” you interrupted, leaning in to kiss him again, “please don’t.”

he sighed into your mouth, his hands sliding up to cradle your face as he kissed you back. when you finally pulled away, just enough to catch your breath, he pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours. “what the fuck are we doing?”

your heart ached, your chest tight as you stared at him, his face so close to yours it felt like the world had disappeared. “i don’t know,” you admitted. “but i don’t want to stop.”

“me either,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before kissing you again.

it was slower now, lazier, but just as intoxicating. his hands stayed on your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kissed you deeply, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. your body melted into his, the heat of him, the weight of him, grounding you in a way that felt both impossible and completely inevitable.

you were dizzy, hazy, every nerve in your body still buzzing from what had just happened. but for the first time in years, you felt completely, utterly content. like this was exactly where you were supposed to be. with him. always him. 

then you made the mistake of resting your come-covered hand on his back, and he groaned, his body jerking slightly. “oh, god,” he muttered, his voice half-laugh, half-whine.

you couldn’t help but giggle, your head dropping back against the pillow. “sorry.” you didn’t sound sorry at all, though.

“you’re disgusting,” he teased, but his lips twitched into a soft smile as he leaned in to kiss you again. it was even slower this time, deeper. and you let him. you let yourself sink into the warmth of him.

this was it. this was everything. and for the first time, it was yours. he was yours.

[chimneyz]

"You don't find it, you make it"

Buck has lived with those words for years now, those words lived in the back of his mind for some time, honestly he nearly forgot about those words. But recently those words have resurfaced in his mind coming to the forefront. Buck stopped looking, knowing that it would never just stumble upon him, he had to make it. And he wanted to make it with Tommy.

Buck was never great at gifts for his partners, (family and friends were easy, partners on the other hand...) but Buck knew exactly what he was going to give to Tommy this Christmas.

It was June, Buck started to do his very delayed spring cleaning around his loft. (Who could blame him for doing it so late, his life has been a whirlwind and it just started to slow down) Luckily for him he actually had some help this year with it, Eddie and Maddie have refused to do so ever since he moved into the place. It's not like Buck needs the help, he's a grown adult, but it's nice to have the company. This year he had Tommy to help.

"Hey," Tommy smiled with a small peck of the lips while walking into Buck's apartment, "Eddie warned me to stay as far away as possible while you had a clipboard in your hands... should I be concerned?"

"What?" Buck scoffed, he's gonna have to have a word with Eddie when this was all over, "I am just proficient, there is nothing wrong with having an organized list!"

Buck grabbed Tommy by the hands leading him to the kitchen, "We are going to start at opposite ends and meet in the middle, I need you to first start with reorganizing the fridge. Here I made a crude chart of what it's supposed to look like." Buck shoved a clipboard into Tommy's hand-labeled 'kitchen', "And don't do it like how you have your fridge, it's a complete disaster, follow the instructions."

"There is something wrong with how I organize my fridge?" Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Buck exasperated, "Who puts raw chicken in the same compartment as their vegetables!"

"Oh I see what they meant about 'Clipboard Buck'," Tommy chuckled, "Not gonna lie Evan it's kind of hot."

"No, no flirting Mr. we have work that has to be done." Buck kissed Tommy on the cheek and headed up the stairs.

It's when Buck was cleaning up his closet when he found the scrapbook, he never knew why exactly he saved it, but there it is resting in the corner of the closet. Those fateful words now ringing in his mind over and over. Then it clicked, the light bulb over his head sprang to life. A scrapbook! It was perfect.

For the next few months, Buck would bring a camera with him wherever the two of them went, hiking, to the beach, a picnic, dinner dates, everywhere.

"Why do you keep bringing that camera with you? What exactly are you planning Evan?" Tommy asked one night.

"You'll see, you just have to be patient," Buck smirked.

He even took pictures on their casual days off, Tommy asleep in bed, Tommy cuddling with Buck on the couch, Tommy in the kitchen making morning coffee after a night of intimacy.

After a while, Buck took more pictures than he could count. By the beginning of autumn, Buck finally got the supplies for Tommy's Christmas present, he started putting it together piece by piece. It was a week and a half later Buck had the entire thing ready leaving space to add on more with a small note inside that read:

A while ago someone said you cannot find it, you have to make it, here it to our future and making us possible.

It was Christmas Eve when Buck walked into his loft alone. The 118 holiday party at Bobby and Athena’s new home filled him up with joy and laughter. He nearly forgot that he was supposed to be with someone else. He was looking forward to a day at Maddie and Chimney's home where he would spend even more time with his family. Another day to forget. But all of that rushed back to him as soon as he stepped foot in his loft. All he could think of was Tommy, his smile, his warmth, his laughter that he ached for. Tears started to sting his eyes as the door clicked behind him. He wondered if Tommy was thinking about him.

Buck rushed up the stairs, grabbed the wrapped scrapbook, and headed back downstairs. He grabbed the nearest bottle of liquor a small trash can and a few matches. Buck shivered in the oddly cool air on his balcony throwing the gift into the small metal can pouring the liquor over it. The small match ignited in Buck's hand after striking it across the side of the matchbox. He took a minute to look at the movement of the small flame, then dropped it into the small can.

Flames ate away at the glittery wrapping paper revealing the crinkly smile Buck yearned for underneath. The edges of the handmade book shrink to ash. Quickly, Buck grabbed the scrapbook unable to get go of it, his hands burned from the hot flames but he didn't care, to lose this would hurt even more. Buck dropped it on the ground stomping out the flames, in a pitiful tilt Buck gazed down at the book, gently picking it up and opening it. He went through the pages, the memories, tears started to stream down his face. Buck's body collapsed onto one of the outdoor chairs, flipping through the pages.

"I guess even making it doesn't work after all," Buck muttered choking on his tears.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer bid his father good night for a second time and went back to bed where Adam was snuggled in. He didn't need him worrying and being upset more than he already was.

Adam: What was wrong?

Lucifer: ..... Apparently those people in the field were Micheals friends.

Adam: And now he wants to be my bestie, fantastic.

Lucifer rubbed his arm: They were in the wrong. His friends or not they would have hung regardless.

Adam nodded he knew that there was a chance that Michael was never going to like him. But he was an asshole and a racist and there was nothing that would change him. Adam was sure that he could solve the world's problems and he'd hate him.

Adam flushed as Lucifer held him, it was nice to feel some kind of comfort. He was pleasantly warm and it lulled him back to sleep.

Lucifer smiled at Adam placing a soft kiss on his hair. He glared at the door, it'll be a cold day in Hell before he lets anyone especially Michael kill Adam for his blood, bones, and scales.

What about a dragon prince au?

Adam is part of a family that can turn into dragons, their feared by the humans. So they send Lucifer up as an ambassador to work out a peace agreement.

Sera, the matriarch would like a better relationship with humans, and so would her daughter. But her son, on the other hand is a different story.

He hates humans and thinks their entitled. He's the main reason theres such hostility between them and humans, as he thinks they should worship him and his family.

Adam: I really don't know why he need this fucker here.

Sera rolled her eyes: We need to fix relations between us. I refuse to let there be anymore violence between us. Especially from you, Adam.

Adam: Pft. So I burned down a few villages- who cares!? They were full of uggos anyway.

Lucifer instantly hates Adam, especially when he realizes he's the golden dragon that's been causing the most casualties.

But Sera is determined to change her sons view of humans, so she forces him to show Lucifer around their estate. She's made the threat of cutting his wings off if he doesn't behave and show Lucifer respect.

Of course, Adam manages to slip in some rude comments and jokes at Lucifer's expense. Lucifer is definitely pissed off. He didn't want to be here to start with, and he really doesn't want to deal with this guy.

He really hates how hot Adam is, and he's definitely not checking him out as he shows him around.

I love everything about this!

-

Adam might have a human form but that didn't mean he liked humans and this one in particular was rather annoying. But his mother told him to play nice and show him around, so that's what he's doing.

The only thing that gave away that Adam was a dragon was his eyes, they were bright gold and his pupils weren't perfectly round.

Lucifer walked with his arms crossed as he followed him, the palace was lovely but Adam was an asshole.

A pretty asshole but still.

Adam sighed: And that is the path to the village.

Lucifer: Village?

Adam: Is there an echo in here? Yes, village where everyone lives. Don't get any ideas.

Lucifer: What? What ideas?

Adam kept walking and they passed a garden that he didn't comment on.

Lucifer: What about the garden?

Adam frowned: You're not allowed in there.

Lucifer: Why?

Adam rolled his eyes; You're just not, now come on.

[fairystarstorm]

Thinking about what's going wrong with Arcane s2

I have not finished s2 yet (still need to finish act 3 but basically got all the major spoilers). I feel like a big problem with this season and why the Z vs P conflict fizzled out is that so many characters are simply not in the that narrative anymore. Especially since they all had interesting stories to explore in regards to it. And if they are apart of the plot line, the things that would make things more interesting are simply ignored.

Taken from the narrative

Heimdinger: the founder of the city realising that the society he built ain't shit and that he failed Zaun by not helping to uplift and protect them (instead of just picking out a pupil from Zaun and calling it a day). All that Talk about how destructive magic could be in the wrong hands while realising he build a society filled with those exact wrong hands because of his inaction. Him actually putting in the work to change and dismantle those structures and belief systems that he allowed to grow in the first place

Jace: He goes against his own morals once again to build weapons for Caitlyn and her team. But we get none of the introspection or the regret that should have gone with it. Why because he is off in an alternative reality fighting for his life. He finds out that Hextech is poisoning Ekko's tree and there's nothing more to that conversation?? If something had gone wrong with the core it could have destroyed Zaun? Something could have happened that could have disabled or killed many others like it did with Viktor. But let's gloss over it. Him reconciling with his actions as a councilor??? That kid really was just a blip in his life i guess.

Viktor: a big problem I feel with Viktor's character is that he can feel very removed from Zaun at times. Like we never got to see his horror about Hextech being used against his people. We never got to know about any family or how he actually felt about being resurrected. What his plan was for Zaun beyond making a little commune. A huge part of that is also because they barely let this man have meaningful interactions with anyone in s2 besides ghost Sky and Jace. Vi, Jinx, Vander and Isha going to his commune could have been a possibility for that. Because even though I do believe that Vander and him did not know each other personally, I don't think he would not have known of him. Also we barely hear him talk meaningfully about his identity as a Zaunite in Piltover

Ekko (and the firelights in general): In my opinion the biggest snub. The others character arcs were mostly about other things in s1 (piltover politics, hextech etc.) but Ekko's whole motivation was to protect his ppl from both the enforcers and Silco. However we didn't get to see him deal with the rise of enforcers in the undercity or Sevika being the one to try and unite Zaun. We didn't get to see him grapple with the fact that Vi became an enforcer or that he was wrong to place his trust in Caitlyn. And even though I love how ep7 is highlighting his good qualities I wish they were explored in his timeline. Him being there would have also allowed for more spotlights for the firelights and Zaunites in general. None of the other people in the cast (Except for Vander) are as involved with regular people in Zaun then he was. It makes Zaun feel less complex and lived in beyond the visuals.

Mel: Considering that they are setting up her mother as the true big bad (which flattened the Z vs P conflict + general bad writing surrounding ambessa which i won't discuss now), it would have been nice to have her be able to react. Like in the beginning of the season we get it a little bit with Mel using spies to figure out her mother's plans. We could have had her realise that Piltover is not fundamentally different from Noxus because of how easy it was for her mother to take over. Only that the violence they dish out is different between the 2 cities. We could have had her sit that in both cases she is part of the oppressive class and that she was only acting out of self interest rather than actually caring about these issues. Instead of her being Kidnapped to get powers, let her finish the story arch that had been set up for her in s1.

Underexplored

Sevika (And Jinx): her involvement with Silco and how that is seen by Zaunites that are not chembarons. Ppl being unwilling to trust or listen to Sevika pleading for united Zaun when she was apart of Silco's operations make sense. Silco brought shimmer into Zaun. Ekko says that a lot of the firelights joined because of how it ruined their lives. Sevika having to struggle with her role in it and how it ultimately makes it harder for the to reach her goal would have been satisfying! Also her showing up after episode 4 would have been nice in general. Also same with ekko, she was the only one who was reaching out and communicating with different groups of Zaun. She and Ekko were windows into Zaun society that they just kept closed for some reason.

Vi: Just everything man.... her trauma, her choosing to be an enforcer, her alcoholism... her relationship with Jinx/powder, her guilt, her role as protector who seems to be failing no matter what she does. All kinda of flushed through the drains for caitvi to be able to exist (yes i dislike caitvi, no i also don''t really care for jayvik or timebomb and i am also a lesbian).

Jinx: I thinks she has been done quite well so far but I have heard for how her arch ends and it is just bad..... also wished they explored Isha more and what Vander coming back would mean for Jinx

Caitlyn: wish they would actually put the responsibility of her actions onto her instead of Ambessa/Jinx killing her mom. Also the fact it was never addressed that even in s1 she was microagressive as fuck towards Zaunites. Yes she eventually saw the need for independence (after talking to Ekko mind you) but does that mean anything if when she was in power due was actively making things worse for Zaun. She could have started working kn redeeming herself but the fact that the narrative/the writers don't want to put the full blame on her just makes that idea seem laughable

Tbh a lot of it has to do with the fact that the writers didn't let characters interact with each other for long periods of time or deal with the consequences of their actions but hey at least the coplesbians fucked and the scientists had their madoka magica moment

[bigball-thefrog]

Hello, just wanted to say that i enjoyed your last two fics, they’re pretty cool! Could you maybe do another Law fic? Perhaps maybe the reader was also taken in by the donxitoute (I fs spelt that wrong)family at a young age just like Law was when he was younger. And like obviously Law and the reader grew up together with the donxitoute family, like they became close and eventually developed crushes on one another. But Corazón wasn’t able to take the reader on time because Doflamanigo never kept his eyes away from her because she had this really strong devil fruit. Then when years go by obviously Law and the Reader are older but she’s still in the family and became an executive. Obviously she doesn’t stand what Doffy does and wants to betray him just like Viola but she doesn’t have an opening due to how valuable she is to him. And Doflamingo always has her by his side. Maybe when Law teams up with the strawhats, he mentions her and how he needs to help her and get out of there. This would probably take place a bit in the end of Punk Hazard and through Dressrosa. (Also it would be cool if the reader and Viola were close friends). You can turn this into a series because i think that would be cool.

Hello hello hello!!! Thank you for the request sorry it took me so long to reply to you. As I said in a different post, I had started my exams, and I am finished now so I'm catching up on my requests. Sorry for being late and I hope it is to your liking

Warnings/Tags:

Law X Fem!Reader

Dressrosa and end of Punk Hazzard spoilers

______________________________

Narrator POV

Like the other kids, you were orphaned and left to die. You came across the Donquixote family, and despite being thrown away (literally) by Corazon, you were stubborn and kept coming back. Then one day Doflamingo discovered your Devilfruit ability (you decide what it is) and thought of how useful it would be, and soon you were a valued member of the family.

Eventually Law came along and when he was eventually accepted into the family, you were curious. He was always cold or angry and tried to keep to himself all the time, but you made sure that never happened. You'd always stick together, almost hunt him down at times, always speaking, always trying to get him to play when you weren't busy. He hated it, he hated you'd never leave him alone or shut up, no matter what you did he'd never lighten up or let you get close... But of course, you eventually did get close, really close actually, as tike went by on the Doflamingo pirates you both became close, inseparable even, you won were a team that fought side by side. But as of recently Law's disease was getting worse and he was slowly dying. You begged and begged Doflamingo to take him to a doctor but there was nothing he could do. You knew Law's time was getting short, that's why you became extra clingy. Wanting to spend as much time as you could together, but one day he just disappeared, with Corazon.. You were heartbroken that they suddenly disappeared, your best friend, and your first crush, gone.

Time went by and you did your best to forget about him. Then one night you stopped at a snowy island, for some reason Doflamingo never let you leave the ship. You wanted to complain but you knew better than question him, so you stayed put. Once you saw Doflamingo trapped the island with his strings you knew something was really wrong. When everyone came back, you ran up to Doflamingo to ask what had happened but something seemed wrong with him, like he was on the verge of snapping at anyone that got too close. So you decided to wait for him to calm down before asking. When he eventually did lighten up, which took much longer than you thought, he told you everything about what Law and Corazon did, and everything changed for you. You started to hate Doflamingo and grew colder towards him, and when he took over Dressrosa those feelings doubled down, but you knew that no matter how much you hated him now, there was no way to leave without dying...

One good that came from the takeover of Dressrosa was meeting Viola, you both quickly became close on your shared hatred for Doflamingo, so at least you had a close friend again.

--------------------------------------------------

~Now~

You were called to speak with Doflamingo, he stood by an open window, seeming tense, "Doflamingo? You wanted to speak?" He turned to you, a small scowl on his face, "You've been under my direct command and my command only since you've joined, right?" He asked, you nodded. "And you'd never betray me... Right?" He asked, the threat clear in his tone, you froze for a second but nodded. "Good... Congratulations, you've now been promoted to one of my executives, you're taking Vergo's place" you looked at him shocked confused, "But what happened? Why am I replacing Vergo??" Doflamingo only scowled, it was a similar to the scowl he had when he killed Corazon. "Did something happen at Punk Hazzard?" "Yes" "Monette too?" He stayed silent this time which told you everything you needed to know, "Was it?..." "Law..." He said. Your heart raced at hearing that name again after all these years, you'd seem him in the newspapers once or twice, but you didn't know what he was like now, a part of you still missed him, but it wasn't time for that now. "Alright, I'll accept Vergo's place," You said. Doflamingo stood on the open windowsill, "Good. I'm going to he gone for a bit, you make sure nothing goes to shit while I'm out..." And he left. You knew that if Law was in Punk Hazzard that he'd probably come to Dressrosa soon, you weren't sure if you were mentally ready for that, but you knew that it didn't matter because you'd have to confront him soon, and you knew when he was here, you had an important choice to make...

--------------------------------------------------

Law POV

I was currently in the kitchen of the All Sunny with the rest of Strawhats, telling them my plans for what was going to happen in Dressrosa. As I talked about the plan, but an idea popped in my head and I mumbled out the name of someone I hadn't thought about in years. "Who's that?" Luffy asked, "An... An old Friend." I muttered out, "They were someone I was close to when I was still in Doflamingos crew. They had a powerful Devilfruit ability that could help us save Dressrosa. But they're constantly under the watch of Doflamingo or one of the other executives.. But, I left her alone all those years ago, and it would kill me to leave her again... I need to save her..." I gripped the table as I thought about how I had to leave and couldn't take her with me, I left her, alone and in the clutches of that bastard Doflamingo. Luffy just flashed his signature smile, "Well if she's a friend of yours, she's a friend of mine. Well save her Tra-guy!" I scowled at the nickname, but a sense of relief washed over me and I looked towards the direction Dressrosa was, "Don't worry, I'll save you this time, and I'll never leave you again, my dear friend."

______________________________

Alright, this is the first of a few that I will be posting today so I'll be back real soon after I finish writing the next request, see you in probably a hour

Kelly🐸

[catghoul31]

Those Damned Claws

Logan's lived with the consequences of almost never using his claws until recently for decades now. Some days are worse than others, but Wade has been a huge help recently.

If only they weren't both having a "worse day" today.

(for @poolverine-week Day 5: Chronic Pain)

Content Warnings: PTSD memories, implied suicidal thoughts

Read it under the cut, or on ao3!

Upon walking into their apartment, Logan rubbed between the knuckles of the hand that had just grabbed the doorknob, right where three red sore spots throbbed uncomfortably. It was yet another day for him where, however painful it was, his claws just wouldn’t retract all the way...

“Whiskey dick of the claws,” Wade called it when they first met- and every single time the claws would barely poke out- but it was more than that. For years after he’d exhausted the last of his furious energy, killed the last anti-mutant bastard in that horrible haze of his for whatever reason- could’ve been anything from destroying the X-Mansion to looking at him wrong, those claws had been firmly sheathed within him. Once he’d fucked up his own world, he had to keep any sign of his mutation firmly locked inside of him. They couldn’t kill him, but they’d sure as hell try if he ever attempted to be anything resembling who he was again. Better to keep his head down and live out the rest of his days as a social pariah.

So when Wade had taken him away from his universe, changed his life forever, he noticed just how much they’d started to hurt. It had always stung somewhat, even when he was using them regularly, but he’d always shrugged it off- it felt like nothing more than a pinprick back then. Since he’d gone so long without using them, though, it wasn’t uncommon for him to go days just dealing with their pointy adamantium tips constantly scraping against his knuckles, begging to be released in spite of how hard his mind berated him for even thinking of using them…

Logan’s most painful days always brought with them an incredibly loud mind. There was nothing to be ashamed of anymore- that’s what Wade had told him, now that he lived here- but the screams, the voices, the shouts of you killed them and why won’t you just die echoed through his head ceaselessly. Sliding onto the couch with a groaning sigh, he put his face in his hands, wishing anything could feel real right now besides the memories and the pain.

Dogpool trotted up and bumped into Logan’s leg, hopping up to try and get his attention. He didn’t even notice, as another image flashed through his mind of a pair of innocent, terrified eyes, silently begging the bloodied Wolverine to spare his life. He knew that moment like it was yesterday. He knew how it ended. How every single one of those memories always ended.

…He needed a drink. Now.

Abruptly standing up, he staggered over to the fridge, begging for there to be anything inside that would help the voices stop- only to be met with the sight of Wade sticking his head in the freezer. Logan thought the beeps he’d been hearing ever since he’d gotten home had been his imagination, but lo and behold, he heard them again. Much closer now, as the noise was coming from the freezer begging Wade to close the door already. He took a short look at him, immensely concerned by what he saw- dark bags under his eyes, skin way too red in some spots and ghostly pale in others, and a concerning amount of crusted bodily fluids surrounding his eyes, nostrils, and mouth. He was staring straight forward, not looking for anything, but definitely making no move to keep the contents inside from defrosting.

Well, this was just fantastic… Logan was having a shit day, and so was Wade. They were both in incredible amounts of pain thanks to their dumb mutant bodies… okay, Wade’s body was only dumb because it hurt him, but still- it looked like they both had shitty luck today. He tried to talk to Wade, but was interrupted by the freezer beeping again. 

“…Need some help, bub?” he asked, his voice strained since it even hurt to move his jaw at this point- god, fuck his metal bones. Wade instantly staggered back, the door closing on its own when he left it alone. Logan couldn’t help but notice his stench, which was way stronger than usual. It would've been repulsive, if it wasn’t coming from someone he loved dearly.

“Shit- you scared me, peanut!!” Wade chuckled, almost immediately devolving into coughs as his shaky legs collapsed underneath him. Logan immediately moved to try and help him up, but grunted loudly as his knees and hips screamed at him for even thinking about it, and-

Now they were both on the floor. Logan was gazing at Wade apologetically, noticing now that the “crust” around his eyes and nose was ice- how fucking long had Wade been in that freezer?? And why hadn’t he let him know how bad today had gotten for him? He would’ve come home immediately, done whatever he could- and now he couldn’t do anything.

“…Sorry if I’m not much for talk this evening. My body kinda feels like Satan’s asshole right now!” Wade croaked, and- yeah, Logan saw it, that was a concerning amount of sweat to be pouring down the face of someone who just got done living in the fucking freezer.

“You’re on death’s door, and you’re worried about not running your mouth as much as you usually do…” Logan wasn’t even a little surprised. He knew very well that Wade didn’t give a fuck about his body… He sure as shit didn’t like seeing it, but he knew.

“I’m the merc with a mouth, honey!! How can I…” Wade lapsed for a moment, clearly on the verge of passing out. “…I gotta do my job! I’m not a super-popular anti-hero because of how sick I am, I gotta get back to-“

“You aren’t doin’ shit, Wade.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed at Logan for a moment, looking quite disappointed. Maybe even annoyed? It didn’t matter. Logan wasn’t budging, and he was sure his boyfriend knew it. “…What’re you doing on the floor with me, peanut? How are you gonna stop me from getting up and killing someone right now, huh? Someone… someone drank a little too much b-bone hurting juice today-“

“Bub… Stop talking, holy fuck,” Logan groaned, trying to move his hand as close to Wade as he could manage. “I don’t need to stop you. If you’re having trouble yapping, you’re definitely not doing any of that-”

Wade was pointing at his clenched fist, snickering weakly. He swore, if it was because those god damn claws of his-

“Y’got boner claws, Logi-bear,” he teased, giving him half a mind to force them out all the way and shove them into his torso.

Despite the deep frown on his face- which only made Wade chuckle a bit more, resulting in another harrowingly loud coughing fit- the other half of Logan’s mind knew he’d feel really bad if he made him hurt any more than he already did. What kind of boyfriend stabbed their partner- when they were sick, no less?? It reminded him way too much of how he used to be in his world, a habit he was trying desperately to break, and he couldn’t stand-

“Actually… while I’m thinking about it, could you just stab me in the stomach with those real quick? I promise I’m onto something here!!”

The world was playing a cruel, awful joke on Logan right now, wasn’t it.

“…The fuck?? No!” Logan grunted, bringing his fist back to his body with a wince, forcing the tips of his claws back in- as painful as it was. It was almost like his body was too exhausted to keep them retracted, like it wanted to fight back against the nonexistent enemy causing him this much pain. But there wasn’t any way on this goddamn earth he’d stab someone over it, let alone Wade. It didn’t matter if he wanted to… he loved him more than he’d ever loved anybody. Why would he do that?

Unfortunately, Wade had come armed with reasons. “Babe, hear me out!! I’ve eyed the pistol I keep on my nightstand, like, five times today-“

“What the fuck, Wade??”

“-and it’s because if part of my body gets severely injured, my healing factor has something else to focus on besides killing all my cells for no reason!! Well- there is a reason, they’re all cancer- but the only reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want you to come home and find me dead! It’s… I promise it’ll work.” As he explained himself, Wade was writhing painfully on the floor, gripping different parts of his torso like they just exploded or something-

Logan had always been frustrated whenever Wade got like this. Not at Wade- never at Wade- but at the fact that there was nothing he could do besides watch him suffer. His own pain wasn’t helping Logan think rationally about this- he needed Wade to stop hurting before he could focus on himself, and if he honestly wasn’t fucking with him- but he was… so tired of hurting people. He didn’t know if he could handle it.

Wade took his clenched fist, and to Logan’s absolute horror, moved it right to his chest, where every single one of his vital organs were. Without realizing it, he whined desperately, trying to look away- every ache in his body made those claws of his want to spring out even more, and…

“Please, Wolvie. I’d rather it be you inside me than a bullet, anyways! I know you gotta use your claws right now anyways-“ of course he did, of fucking course he did- “so… please?”

Immediately, Wade was impaled. Logan’s eyes screwed shut, tears filling them as he tried to ignore the scream that ripped through his throat, even with all the joking and profanity that followed- all he could focus on was how much blood he would see if his eyes dared to open. There was no way he could bring himself to look right now… not with his mind screaming KILLER, MURDERER, LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE-

“… Mggh - gah! Fucking… there we go. Just enough bloodshed for me to…” Wade had pulled himself off his claws carefully, waiting for the wounds to close before standing up. Logan didn’t notice, too busy trapped in the memories that wouldn’t leave, hearing screams of long-dead people, begging for Wade’s voice not to join them.

His exposed arm, with his claws still unsheathed, was grabbed, and Wade pulled hard, dragging him across the floor. Logan could still smell blood, it wasn’t safe to open his eyes yet, and he didn’t care about anything Wade was doing to him right now- he had every right to fling him over the roof, in his book.

But of course Wade didn’t do that. Because, for some god-forsaken reason, he loved him. Loved him enough to fling his entire body onto the couch, as much as the panting he heard had him entirely concerned for his well-being. The freezer opened again, and Logan would’ve told him not to start living in it again if his mind was a little quieter.

Thankfully, Wade came back after a reasonable amount of time, and Logan finally opened his eyes as he felt cold packs being draped over almost every single one of his joints. Soon after, Wade’s eyes met his, shimmering with concern, love, and… illness, obviously, and they came even closer when he unceremoniously fell on top of Logan, making him yelp in surprise.

“Wade, you…” Logan sighed, wishing he could move his hands somehow without hurting Logan. “…Don’t do that. Don’t hurt yourself- not for my sake, please-“

“Sweetie pumpkin. That helped me… and it helped you! You just helped both of us, alright? Pinky promise,” Wade whispered roughly, wrapping his pinky around Logan’s without a single fuck given about the claws that were within inches of it. And… he was getting comfortable here. No way Logan could get him off without putting up a fight…

Good thing he really didn’t want to. Not with how warm he felt, how the comfort settled into his bones and convinced a tiny part of his brain that maybe, tomorrow morning, everything would be okay.

“Love ya, peanut,” Wade sighed, his voice almost imperceptible with how muffled it was by Logan’s chest.

“…I love you too, Wade. I love you so much…”

Logan wanted to retract his claws, hold Wade as close as possible- but they felt better out right now, and it’d probably be like that until they woke up. His eyes were drooping- and Wade was way ahead of him, having already completely passed out on top of him- and he willed himself not to give in to the urge to stay awake, protect Wade at all costs because there would always be something in the shadows waiting to steal the ones he loved from under his nose-

But the only blood he smelled in this house was Wade’s. And none of it was being spilled right now…

He was here. He was alive. He was breathing- snoring- on top of him, and however badly he felt right now, he would recover.

They both would.