#became so smart and strategic

[wishingformoredogs]

Anyone hating on Sansa Stark, yall just don’t get her like I do, idc

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin.

With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself.

While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages.

You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into that situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible.

It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group.

Kie, Pope, John B…weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a weird balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence.

You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in your life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the fucking chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst.

It was a burden you bore proudly, protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity.

While others your age worried about stupid matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending beating in his eyes.

You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream.

You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, you knew that. His expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," his tone was condescending, like you were a child, “You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too. And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains in your room, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, clearly growing frustrated with your stubbornness, “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that.

And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, “Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no clipped answer from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing.

He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different.

Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, the frame sturdy.

That’s it! 

You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances.

Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was strong enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

You gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building.

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations or politeness.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, “It’s important.”

He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper and thrusted it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him.

Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before running out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline pumping in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a moment.

You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp,“You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden changes in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

“What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at his chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe nodded in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained unwavering. He was being dead serious.

Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, but now?

“I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened.

Oh. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him.

You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into, again. The events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly, "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere.

There were more important things to worry about. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream.

You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe.

The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you

It was a lot to process, and you handy had the time to figure everything out yet.

His fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up.

It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you had been feeling deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead.

All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…”

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead.

Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

His hold tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again.

“Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him. Was he telling you to spoon him?

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you did as he asked, turning onto your side to face away from him.

He moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like some kind of shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you moved again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his hoarse, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head.

Rafe's reaction was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me to stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted.

You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire you needed to reach.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit.

You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts turning to mush as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening.

His breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me come,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised,“Want to feel you dripping around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz inside you building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your pussy.

Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Shit shit”, you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. 

Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he tried to control himself.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in.

His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so so close.

“I c-can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You tryn’ to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix.

Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn grew into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch.

You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole.

The taste of him filled your mouth, cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours.

The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m s-so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Come for me, pretty. Wanna to feel you drippin’ all over my cock.”

That was all it took.

With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe, jaw slack open as his hands never left your body.

As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips tender. He murmured soothing words and you swore you were on cloud nine.

You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the pleasure subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, “Need to feel you come inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass,

"Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open,"You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel your cum."

The pet name did it.

With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his ass as he drove into you in a mean mating press. His pace was relentless, like he’d die if he stopped.

The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, only amplified the passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Come for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising.

And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. Your own body still buzzed with the aftermath of your pleasure.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that left you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as his lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss so different to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but you broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you weren’t feeling so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else.

He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering, "I know, Maybank," he whispered,"I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?"

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you a little strength.

After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly.

Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[quincywillows]

like i remember the vitriol that came out when the mere PREMISE for ballad of songbirds and snakes came out bc it was “about the villain” and wasn’t instead a novella of one of the many cute likeable faves of the masses. i remember how fast people were to tear down the book before it even came out (and still do now). and it’s like look, i get it, suzanne created so many interesting characters that it would be incredible to learn more about and get more content for. but her choosing to write about snow for a prequel isn’t like Romanticizing The Villain or whatever bullshit y’all are claiming as hot takes on twitter -- ballad fits right into the common themes and tone of the series in that its not a romanticization but a reflection on how snow became what we know him as in the original series. both in how he already had some less than charming or healthy traits (just like katniss does -- suzanne is always clear that people are not inherently good nor evil and parallels were drawn between how snow and katniss view the world and think strategically, etc, from the second book), but also in how society and the choices of the greater community in panem created snow. like ballad is a really interesting piece of lore and history and worldbuilding for an already rich and elaborate setting that suzanne created, allowing us to see how that world even came to be and the kind of toxic impact it had on the people surviving in it while still pointing out that those people are human and that everyone has humanity and yet can still cause unfathomable harm to one another based on circumstance and need to survive and pressures of all kinds and like i have lost the plot here now but suzanne is one of the best authors of our time who actually gives a shit about creating layered, nuanced characters and worlds rather than black and white good and evil and unfortunately the hyperpolarization of our hot takes social media culture nowadays just can’t handle her anymore. suzanne im so sorry we don’t deserve your storytelling. anyway i’ll be seated for this movie y’all can skip and keep giving lukewarm takes on twitter to make urself seem so smart for hating a book you probably didnt even actually read

[fluetytooty]

🏒one piece hockey au / zosan hockey au (part 5)🏒

- the funniest one in the whole team

- his nickname is “The God” (he chose it… he just called himself that and it just sticked)

- has more goals behind him than whole team combined, he’s like a real life sniper 👀

- most of people underestimate how smart that boy is, so when he pulls a really hard strategic move during the match the opponents don’t know what to do and how to react

- he’s dad also was a hockey player, but didn’t go professional

- Usopp is often very nervous before games, but when it is time to go on ice something clicks and he becomes “The God”

- him and Nami (team’s social media manager and publicist) became besties the day they met, it was their first day at the team and they were so stressed they started talking to each other

- since then they just been the iconic duo of The Srawhats

- there were rumours that they are dating… lol no that’s actually hilarious like Usopp and Nami(🤨🏳️‍🌈)?

- they made bets on when Zoro will ask Sanji out, because these two were dancing around each other for loong time (he lost)

- he was the one who helped Luffy to get the team’s instagram password, luckily he just got scolded by Nami

- him and Kaya are high school sweethearts 😭🥰

- they were childhood friends before they started going out

- Usopp LOVES to tell everyone how they got together and how he was so romantic and the whole school just stood there with their jaws dropped and some people cried (Kaya just giggles and says that it’s not how it was)

- Kaya herself comes from the rich family, she always wanted to be a doctor, she’s a medical student

- the reason why she wants to be a doctor is because she ad a really serious sickness when she was young and she hated it so much she doesn’t want anyone feel the same way

- Usopp was one of people who always came to visit her in the hospital, they weren’t friends yet, just classmates and he wanted to cheer up the sweet girl, who gave him a pencil once when he forgot his

- turned out they love the same book series about adventures

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 doodle 1

[haggishlyhagging]

I was standing before the desk of my doctoral dissertation adviser who was angrily telling me that I was not going about my dissertation in a way that suited him. He shouted at me, from his intimidating height, that my master's thesis adviser had told him I had pressured him unmercifully too and hadn't asked his advice either all along as I should have. I asked my fuming educator, as calmly as I could, why my master's adviser had never indicated this to me. I suggested that if he hadn't approved of the way I was proceeding, he should have said something to me at the time. And that since he always signed everything I took to him to sign, and since he had not stood in the way of my receiving my master's degree, I had simply assumed he approved.

Even as I asked the question, however, I knew the answer. I hadn't behaved femininely. I hadn't asked their advice. I hadn't acted as if I weren't capable of doing all this without their help. Hadn't, in short, acted incompetent, helpless, childish, and infinitely grateful for every little scrap of attention or advice they, as superior beings, had given me. I was twenty-eight years old when I began my master's research. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how to go about doing it. I proposed it to my adviser. He agreed. I did it. That was that—I thought.

Oh, but not so. I didn't lean on him. To me he was just part of the red tape. I cut through him as quickly as possible. And I had no time to linger. Already we had one child and were ready to conceive another. I had to move faster almost than humanly possible, and I did.

Now my doctoral adviser had heard from my previous master that I had not been sufficiently humble and impressed (did not respect the priesthood enough, meaning the men). But this one wasn't going to make the same mistake. He'd show me who was boss. I understood this as women understand it, not intellectually, just in the flesh of my face as he scowled at it, just in the resignation of my weary-with-watching-male-ego-signs flesh. And I knew exactly what to do about it, without thinking, without strategizing—cry. So he would know I wasn't trying to show I was as smart as he was and didn't need him to tell me what to do next. Cry—so he would realize I was just another weak little woman and he had no cause for alarm. Cry—so he would feel bigger and more rational, and still, above all else, still blessedly in control.

So I cried on purpose that day, and because I did I became Dr. Johnson a year later, moving with great speed through a system designed to slow doctoral candidates down. Because I cried.

If men hate to be thus manipulated, then they must allow us to be real, they must not force us to manipulate their egos in order to live a full human life. I hate such machinations. I despise them with all my heart. But women are forced to resort to them because men won't otherwise allow us to exist. And we have a right to life.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

[tizeline]

I’ve never seen a separated au with Leo being raised by big mama, what do you think that would be like? (Since he’s kinda rebellious)

For the record, there are AUs where Leo's been raised by Big Mama, the ones I know of are Gemini AU by tangledinink and True Colors AU by v-albion. I'm not super familiar with either of them, but they're there if you wanna check them out.

That being said-

LEO being raised by BIG MAMA omg I have THOUGHTS

Listen, I don't see enough people compare Leo to Big Mama, but he's quite similar to her. Splinter and BM never got a kid together, BUT IF THEY DID that kid would literally be Leo he's basically just a fusion of the two of them!!

As I've mentioned several times before because I love bringing it up, Leo is strategic, quick-witted, observant and good at talking. In the show (as well as in my own AU) Leo's strengths aren't really recognized, let alone aknowledged for a big portion of the story. Because of that, for a long time he doesn't really get the chance to develop these skills, as much potential Leo has to become a master planner his impulsiveness and inexperience has a tendency to get him into trouble.

BUT! All of these skills also happen to be skills that Big Mama has and would value in Leo. So if he were to actually have to opportunity to not only be raised by BM but also trained by her for his entire life. If he got to properly learn strategy, planning, manipulation...?

... Holy shit Leo would be terrifying.

Think about it, canon!Leo managed to out-smart BM in Many Unhappy Returns without any real experience, just imagine what he could do with a whole life-time of training.... yikes!

Not sure what exactly Big Mama and Leo's relationship would look like. In my opinion she would view him as her son and love him dearly, especially if she knew that he's Splinter's biological son.... it's just that BM has interesting ways of showing affection. ("The love of my life just proposed to me?? Great! I'm gonna lock him up in my gladiator fighting ring for the rest of eternity!") She'd at the very least be quite controlling, I imagine.

As you pointed out, Leo can be quite rebellious, so that mixed with Big Mama's obsessive need to be in complete control of everyone around her would certainly cause some tension. Actually... considering how clever Leo would be in this AU... uh oh.

All of these qualities that BM initially appreciated and encouraged in Leo, what if, as Leo became more and more capable, Big Mama started to eventually view them in a more negative light? If she feels like she's loosing control over Leo, if she interprets Leo's rebellion as not just a normal teenage need for independence but rather him malicously working against her. What if she starts viewing him not as an asset or as a tool, but rather a threat?

If BM has reason to believe that Leo might try to overthrow her and take control over her criminal empire, she might take preemptive action and get rid of him before he has the chance to get rid of her.... Not like murder-get-rid-of, I don't think she'd just kill him, lol! But like lock him up, maybe throw him into the Battle Nexus, I dunno. Anything that would allow her to remain in control of both him and her business.

As for Leo, maybe he would actually try to overthrow BM. Considering he was raised by a literal mafia boss, his moral compass is gonna be a bit wack. Maybe Leo's desire for control over himself would cause him to try to seize control over his mother's business. Oooooorrrrr maybe Leo just wants some independance but doesn't actually want to compete with BM, so when she interprets his actions and behavior as malicious he's not prepared for that at all and, as a result, is more than a little hurt that his own mother would take such extreme actions against him. Who knows?

Hhhhhhh there's a lot of fun posibilities here but MAN I'm not really in the mood to work on an entirely new AU. Maybe I'll create some art for it I dunno, this concept is really fun, but I'm not gonna turn this into a proper Thing, so if anyone else wanna steal this concept and explore it for themselves, feel more than free to do that!

[hanjisungslag]

hiiii!! so sorryyy idk if you take requests BUTT could you do headcannons of being in an argument with the aot characters?

🗣️ aot characters & arguments

characters involved: eren, armin, mikasa, connie, jean, sasha, reiner, annie, bertolt, erwin, levi & hange

notes: i do take requests indeed!! :3 i luv angst, i hope this is gd♡

✧ eren jaeger - 

okay, when you guys argue it’s honestly more cute than anything because you’re both so protective of one another. neither of you wanted each other to join the scouts because it was so dangerous but, you both joined anyways obviously. oh my god, you guys non-stop bicker when there’s a mission! and don’t even get me started if you get put into different teams😭 you start TWEAKINGG. after he finds out he’s the attack titan, oh it gets 10x worse. his absolute biggest fear is losing control and hurting you - he’s already so conflicted, confused & felt like an outcast. he definitely lashes out more and becomes snappier than usual but, it does come from a place of sincerity.

when this happens, you just leave it be. as soon as it’s not just bickering anymore, when a voice is raised or an insult is made, you just leave it. you understand he’s going through a lot and just needs a minute but, TRUST ME! when you walk off, you make sure it is known that your feelings are hurt.

“i said no! you are not being on my team! im going with the levi squad, thats final.”

✧ armin arlert -

you both love each other very much but, goddamn you’re both so up your own arses! you are the ‘smart couple’ you are both strategic and witty and have your own way you go about things. so, when it comes to deciding whose plan is better, you always think yours is better and admin thinks his is better. this has (and probably always will be) the main root of your arguments, tbh. nobody likes to get involved either because if someone picks a side then even more havoc will break lose. the only people who’ve ever come between you two is: mikasa, levi & erwin.

it’s just like a debate, you know the ones on jubilee where it’s just people speaking over each other with different facts and sources? literally you two. you both would keep going until the end of time if you didn’t need to sleep, eat and drink water. it’s never that serious at the end of the day, you both love each other and i GUESS you can appreciate each others plans albeit you both think yours is better.

“if you actually listen to me when i say, my layout is better! look at how easy it is to manoeuvre from the castle to the forest!”

✧ mikasa ackerman -

wash the damn scarf. that is all you ask of her. she has literally never washed it and you love but jesus christ, stink LINGERS. not only do you think it’s weird she doesn’t wash it but, it’s also from eren… now, you know mikasa’s lore, of course. however, it’s really hard to get over your girlfriend having this deep love for this smelly scarf that her ex-crush gave to her after he literally saved her from being kidnapped. at first, you try to ignore it but it gets to a point where you sit down and talk to her but, she is not having it. she clearly cares very, very deeply for this scarf and will defend it. it’s really awkward conversation that slowly turns into raised voices and some opinionated things being raised.

“why are you getting jealous over a scarf? that’s so stupid! i just have fond memories with it!”

✧ connie springer -

again, not so much major arguments but just bickers. it usually starts as a joke but slowly but surely divulges into an argument about something stupid. one time, someone ate the last of jean’s meal that his mum made for him and he saved until today, obviously he was super upset and jokingly you blamed connie. at first, all was well, laughs were being heard and he even poked fun at you but, somewhere along the way it became more serious for you two, you genuinely suspected connie of eating jean’s meal and connie was getting visibly more upset.

“that was so not me! why are you telling them that?! i didn’t eat it, y/n!”

jean regretted asking who ate his food.

✧ jean kirstein -

jean is unfortunately a jealous guy. not for any malicious reasons, he’s just a bit insecure gang! he’s more scared that you’ll leave him for someone ‘better’ more than anything but, these feelings of insecurity manifest as jealously. he’d get jealous over you spending time with people like eren, mikasa or armin. in so many aspects, they’re better than him (in his eyes) and this will just make him reallyyy pissy. being in an argument with jean is painstakingly ambiguous like he never straight up says it, it’s always sly remarks or dry responses from him for a while. eventually, you know something is up and question him but he will avoid answering like the plague and it’s just so, so frustrating! eventually, when you break your calm demeanour, he will also break his ‘nonchalant-ness’ and just shout about how he feels.

he crossed his arms, “i just don’t understand why you need to be around him so much, you have me?”

✧ sasha braus -

absolutely nothing. i’m sorry but, she is too sweet and loving. IM SORRY, i’m sorry… i tried so hard to think of something but this queen is too perfect. at most, she would snap at you in high stress situations but she would never turn it into an argument. for example, if you told her to slow down her eating because you’re going on a mission but, she hasn’t eaten much that day she may snap and tell you to “let her do what she wants” but, she’s sooo quick to recover and apologise. literally not even giving you a second to even think about arguing with her!!

“ah, i’m sorry. you’re right, i don’t wanna be sick while flying through the air, huh?” she pouts.

✧ reiner braun -

you’re both from marley, you know damn well what you’re doing here but it seems reiner is straying off path. you’re there to try and remind him why you’re there and this leads to so many arguments. his split personality also plays a role in the arguments because it’s so.. scary and confusing for you because one moment he’s defending eldians than the next, he’s shouting at you about how he ‘knows the plan’.

when talking about stuff like this, since it’s extra sensitive for reiner he definitely flips out. i’m talking shouting, angry grunting, clenching his fists into balls and holding them against his forehead so he doesn’t fully crash tf out. he’s just as confused and scared as you are about his split personality but, he doesn’t want to seem weak or to seem like he’s losing sight of what is ‘right’ - it gets him really worked up. obviously, you stand your ground against him, he doesn’t scare you when you’re arguing. you’ve known him for so long.. you feel like he just needs to be guided.

“when did i ever say i liked them? yes, they’re okay people to be around for now but— no, i never said that! i know what they are, you don’t remind to tell me, y/n!”

✧ annie leonhart -

just the fact she’s cold and distant, it makes it really hard to actually have a relationship with her. at first, she was closed off COMPLETELY but cracks began to show and eventually, you thought you were at a good point with each other but, you kind of realised you didn’t know that much about annie. you try to ask questions to get her to open up but, she is one tough egg to crack so eventually, you just ask! hoping to help her more than anything but, this leads to an argument…

after this first argument, it became pretty regular like once every few weeks this would happen. you get super frustrated because she acts like she doesn’t even care! so, you’re shouting and getting really passionate while she sits there, looking pissed off and bored, rolling her eyes and scoffing. she doesn’t see the need to open up to you, she’s done what she thinks is ‘enough’ in her books.

“what do you want me to say? i’m not an open book, that’s just how i am. we’re all gonna end up dead, anyways.”

✧ bertolt hoover -

sigh… oh bert. every time you feel yourself developing further into your relationship with bert, his friends seem to pull him back. you’re still not quite sure why and they always seem to be giving side eyes or glances when he talks about his life - its starting to piss you off, rightfully so. you feel like he’s got two other side hoes watching yours and his every move! you being this up in subtle ways as to not seem like a crazy, jealous partner but eventually you burst and tell him how you really feel.

arguing with sweet bert isn’t fun because you can tell he tries so hard to please everyone in the situation, whether it’s you, him or now in this case, his friends too. he will raise his voice but, not in a bad way just in a general sense, things are getting heated, his voice will raise and he will fling his arms and hands. he’s a very expressive man when arguing because he is so passionate about it.

“y/n, they’re my friends! they’re just trying to protect me, why are you jealous?”

✧ erwin smith -

there’s so such things as arguments in your relationship, erwin likes to call them ‘mutual disagreements’ as your both in the scouts, he knows your time is limited. it’s a morbid and pessimistic way to think but, you have to be realistic when you live such a deadly lifestyle. he doesn’t want to take your time together for granted - plus, he’s a MAN like, he is calm and collected and will always hear you out.

you both start off calm, having a mature conversation about whatever it is that is bothering you but, when you start getting rowdier that’s when erwin quells the flames quickly. he takes a deep breath, hears you out and calmly walks you through it all. he’s so compassionate about it, i cant omg. he’ll gently place a hand over your own hand or on your shoulder if you’re standing, letting you know he’s present, he’ll sweetly talk you down, eventually calming you down and usually you’ll both say apologises or just general sweet statements and move on!

“i’m sorry, y/n. no, i’m glad you talked to me about this.”

✧ levi ackerman -

oh lord, being in an argument with levi ackerman is nawwtt fun. i’m sorry but, i’d kms if i argued with levi 😭. this man has such an awful resting bitch face as it is but, imagine his face when he’s arguing with you? IF LOOKS COULD KILL. he cant hide his emotions, so when you’re arguing even if he’s trying to be somewhat nice, his face says it all. usually he’ll roll his eyes and scoff if it’s something minor, he’ll hear you out, maybe give a half arsed apology or some sort of nice gesture to make sure you’re not upset however, if it’s a big issue oh brother…

silent treatment, i fear. he is so bad at communicating his feels correctly and often feels confused because this mf ain’t been in love before?! it gets too a point where he’s so mad, he just cant even begin to think of anything to say to you. you’ll be there raising your voice, becoming so passionate and when you ask what he thinks, he’ll say “i have nothing to say.” then boom, silent treatment. however, he’s bad with his words… but good with his actions. he still wants you to know he cares, you two could be in the most rancid moods but, you’ll go to your room and find your clothes ironed and folded🥲.

✧ hange zoë -

oh my sweet hange, my probably neurological challenged sweet hange… an argument with them would definitely stem from them spending more time with titans than you. when sawney and bean were around, you weren’t getting ANY time of day with them, trust. at first, you didn’t want to say anything because of course, you understand! the lifetime you guys are living in, things like hange’s research is soo important but, you can’t help but feel neglected sometimes.

when you finally bring it up, an argument ensues. neither of you really shout or anything, it’s just that kind of weird sort of raised, high pitched voice people get when you’re really frustrated. you both stay relatively calm for the situation you’re in but, you can totally tell you’re both so frustrated because hange just doesn’t see the problem. when you guys argue like this, it usually just goes in circles and after a while you both decide to mutually give up and leave it for another day.

“it’s all for science and the greater good of humanity though, i don’t understand?”

[desperate-daydream]

hi! can i rq a five hargreeves x aroace reader (friendship obvi) where reader is very anxious/paranoid & one of their comforts is touch, so five is always near them or lending him their jacket/small acts of care type of thing

☂️Umbrella Academy

❀ five hargreeves x gn aroace reader ⚣

A/N: Oh my gods, I'm still alive! XD thanks for your request! I hope you still enjoy this story even though it took a really really long time.

tags/warnings: swearing, reader has anxiety, five has flashbacks; plays in season 1

the best team

Five Hargreeves was a smart and strategic man but he had a soft spot; for his annoying siblings and you. You had started off as partners in the commission and became friends over time. He was the one person you had told about you being aroace - which he could relate to - and he knew about your anxiety. 

You were a great team together that always supported each other. You would help him with his flashbacks and he would help you with your anxiety. 

And that was about to skyrocket right now. You had helped Five to figure out the right equations to get back to his family and then he was finally able to do the jump - of course taking you with him. But apparently something went wrong because when you landed on the other side of the portal you were both in the bodies of your teenager-selves. 

“Fuck, something went wrong”, you heard Five muttering to himself. You were speechless when you looked up from your younger hands to the adults standing in front of you. One of them just asked: “Can you see little Five too?”. Then Five looked up too before his gaze went towards you. You felt like you increasingly couldn’t breathe anymore and looked at Five with wide eyes. 

You heard a noise and only when Five hurried to get up you realized that it came from you. 

„Okay, listen to my voice. Blend out everything else. Breath y/n. Breathe with me, alright?“ 

He blocked most of your view towards the adults who didn‘t know how to react yet. He took your hands in his to help you steady yourself - since one of your comforts was touch - and with some more helpful words and methods you calmed down. 

Five helped you get up then and went to the door while dragging you behind him and almost seemingly ignoring the adults who were then coming back to their senses. 

They followed closely asking what happened or simply repeating his name like they couldn‘t believe that he was right there. 

While walking you spotted your reflection in a mirror on the wall and flinched - you really were in the body of your younger self. 

You reached the kitchen and Five started making sandwiches as well as coffee for him and cocoa for you. 

„What are you doing?“, the tall woman asked. 

„And who is that?“, a guy in full black attire added. 

„We both need sugar to recharge“, he answered while continuing his work. You were just standing there merely happy that you didn‘t go into full panik. 

„And who the fuck is that?!“, the man repeated himself and emphasised it with a gesture towards you. 

„That is y/n. We’re colleagues.“

To others this description might‘ve felt offensive. You knew that in connection to you it meant you were trusted friends. 

„Colleagues?“, the confusion was clear on all their faces. 

Your mind slowly cleared and you started realizing that those people were Five‘s siblings. He had told you quite a lot about them - you were also the only one he had talked to about them. 

„Yes“, his answer had a little sharpness in it and your gaze shot up to him. You knew what that meant. He had pulled you out of your panic, now you started doing your best to prevent him from having a flashback. 

His gaze was already a bit out of focus and his movements slowed down so you hurried to get to him and touched his shoulder carefully. 

„Hey, you‘re not there anymore“, you slowly moved him around to the sink and turned on cold water. While you waited for it to be cold enough you pushed up the sleeves of his now way too big suit. 

Running cold water over his hands and forearms has always been pretty effective to get Five back in his body. You were relieved when he looked at you after a moment and nodded as a thank you. 

You turned off the water and dried both your hands. 

“Everything okay?”, one of his siblings asked with his brows furrowed. “Yes”, you answered while Five brushed it off with a wave of his hand. 

You helped him finish your snacks and stayed close to calm both of you. When you sat down at the table to eat it his siblings started their questions again. 

They had a lot of those and you spent enough time on this table that you leaned on your friend’s shoulder from being tired out. Five put his arm around you to steady your upper body. That way you rested a bit before both of you went to save the world - as the best team you'll ever see.

[jae-bummer]

GG

Request: can i get wonwoo and #20 please? (fluffy haired online gamer boy)

Prompt:

20) You and your bias have become online friends who have never seen each other...until the day you decide to meet.

Pairing: Seventeen Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

"WannaWoo," you sang into your mic. "What inspired your gamer tag?"

"It's because my name is Wonwoo," his deep voice said matter-of-factly. "You know that."

"No shit," you laughed. "But why not something else?"

"Why is yours KillerQuiche?" he mused.

"Because it was an autogenerated recommendation and I was thirteen," you grinned. "And at the time, I may or may not have misunderstood what a quiche was."

"And you've just stuck with it? All of this time?"

"Brand continuity. And it gives me ample opportunity to say, "Unleash the KillerQuiche,"" you laughed. "You have to admit, it gets our opponents pretty nervous."

"Or excited because they think they're about to win against a pair of thirteen-year-olds," he hummed.

"And then we devastate them," you chimed. "Because we make a great team!"

"More like give them a false sense of security," he chuckled. "But I suppose we make a pretty alright team."

"Be careful," you grinned. "That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."

"I compliment you all the time!" he gasped.

"Saying "good game" when we win hardly counts as a compliment," you argued.

""Good" is a positive descriptor," he muttered. "It totally counts."

"Fine," you sighed. "I'll allow it."

This wasn't the first time you had gone fishing for actual praise. Something like "Gosh, Y/N! You're so smart" or "Y/N, I know I'm Facetiming you at 2AM, but you look ravishing." Hell, you'd even settle for some variation of "Congratulations, you don't look like a rat today." To say you were thirsty for your friend's attention was an understatement. There had been a drought since the moment you had "met".

You had been long distance friends with Wonwoo for years and he hadn't realized that you were completely in love with him, despite your best efforts. Any attempts at flirting were just that, attempts. The one time you thought he was coming on to you, he was actually sweet talking a locked chest he was trying to open in a game.

At one point, you had considered that maybe he realized how you felt and was keeping you at arm's length to avoid an awkward let down. After you got to really know him though, you quickly understood that he was just reserved and in his head about things that did not concern you. Understanding emotions was not his strong suit, so picking up on them was nearly impossible. That's why he thrived in his digital persona. The worlds the two of you created and navigated were logical and safe. Things were risky when he became friends with you outside of the internet.

"Hey, Y/N?" Wonwoo's voice rumbled over the line. You had just entered the lobby of a game you often enjoyed playing together, so you assumed he was ready to strategize.

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to meet up?"

Furrowing your brow, you adjusted your headset to make sure you were hearing him clearly. "Like...have a designated time we do a video call or something?"

"No," he continued earnestly. "Like meet up."

"I'm sorry, I must be lagging," you said quietly. "We do not live in the same area, Wonwoo."

"Astute observation," he hummed, the tone giving away that he was clearly amused. "I've heard of this incredible invention. You see, it's this giant metal contraption that people actually get inside! And the technology it uses-"

"While I have no earthly idea how an airplane actually works, I don't need you to explain it to me," you rushed out. "Are you saying you want to meet in person?"

"No, I'm saying we should designate a time we do a video call or something."

"Wonwoo!" you whined. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. This was a request you never saw coming.

The man across the line erupted in laughter. You stared blankly at the screen, completely disregarding the cue to jump from the virtual plane and onto the map.

"Is this a joke? If this is a joke, I'm going to be really upset with you."

"It's not a joke!" he sighed. "I've wanted to meet you in person for a while. I hope you feel the same way about me."

"Of course I do!" you gasped. You hoped the "I've probably wanted this longer and more fervently than you" was implied by your tone.

"I was thinking I could come to you," he proposed. "I don't feel comfortable with making you travel so far by yourself."

"I'm more than capable-"

"I did not say you weren't," he cut in. "It's other people I'm worried about."

You felt your heart do a little spin. You weren't used to hearing him be protective. "Okay," you conceded. "But I won't have you pay for a hotel. You can stay in my guest room."

There was a short pause before Wonwoo cleared his throat. "I appreciate that."

Well, that was odd.

"Unless I"m totally overstepping," you added. "If you don't feel comfortable-"

"It sounds great, Y/N," he said much more confidently this time. "Now let's talk logistics."

After refusing to coordinate a plan while he continued to play video games (even when he argued how excellent he was at multitasking), the two of you finally worked out a schedule. In a month's time, he would get on a plane and end up in the same city as you. You'd pick him up, he'd sleep at your apartment, and hijinks would ensue.

As you told him goodnight and logged off for the evening, it felt like you were floating on air. In your wildest dreams, you would have never imagined that Wonwoo would be the one to propose meeting in person. You had thought about it dozens of times, but never wanted him to feel pressured. Plopping onto your bed, you stared up at the ceiling and tried to imagine what it would be like. Attempting to picture his tall, broad frame navigating life beside you, sent your heart tumbling to your toes. The simple intricacies of life seemed to be so much more important when you factored him into the equation. This would either be the best week of your life or the most awkward.

Knowing Wonwoo, it would probably be a happy mixture of both.

..

You shifted nervously from foot to foot, your stomach tying and untying itself into knots. You weren't sure if you were going to pass out, or spontaneously combust. When Wonwoo had insisted that he fly hours to see you, you had welcomed the idea. Now you were lightheaded and questioning every decision you had ever made to get to this point.

"It'll be fine," you muttered to yourself as you readjusted the balloons you held from one hand to the other. "It's just Wonwoo."

It being "just" Wonwoo was exactly your problem. Wonwoo wasn't "just" anything. He was multitudes. In all of the years that you had known him, he had made you feel the gamut of emotions. He was the truest friend you could ever hope for and the most clueless crush to stumble into your heart.

Keeping a watchful eye on the door marked "Arrivals," you nearly stopped breathing as you saw a face you recognized. Easily a head taller than the people walking around him, he was wearing a bright yellow beanie (so you'd know it was him - as if you wouldn't be able to identify him in any universe). It took mere seconds of him looking around for his eyes to lock on yours, a close-lipped grin on his lips.

From there, it felt like your mind had entered an intensely realistic daydream. Hurrying his steps, Wonwoo strode over until he was standing only inches away. The open expression on his face definitely signaled that he was waiting for you to make the first move. Lifting his arms slightly he breathed. "I'm here."

"You're here!" you all but screeched as you launched toward him. Wrapping yourself around his torso, you were amazed with how he could smell so good after being in the air for multiple hours. You nuzzled your face into his oversized t-shirt and let out a contented sigh.

Smacking at the balloons you still held, he navigated around them to snake his long arms around you. Shimmying in closer, he rested his chin on the top of your head. "A moment that's been years in the making."

You were surprised as you felt a soft kiss on your scalp. Leaning away from him, you looked up with wide eyes. "Wonwoo?"

"I didn't realize I could actually miss someone I had never met," he chuckled, shaking his head. Pushing up his glasses, he stared down fondly at you. "Is it...is it okay if I kiss you?"

You couldn't stop your mouth from popping open in surprise. Would it look bad if you pinched yourself to make sure this wasn't in fact a stress-induced mental break?

Wonwoo furrowed his brow as he searched your face. "I just...I just thought...Did I read the moment wrong? Oh god, I did, didn't I?"

The reality of the situation crashed into you with surprising force. Stepping forward to wrap him in your arms again, you cautiously glanced up. The last thing you wanted him to think was that he had crossed a boundary and made you uncomfortable. "Sorry, no, you didn't read the moment wrong. I was just...surprised?"

"Surprised?" he asked, still clearly confused.

"Well, uh," you said quietly. "You've never really given me any indication that you were romantically interested?"

"What?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "What do you mean? Y/N, we've known each other since we were teenagers at this point. You're impossible not to fall in love with."

"...in, in love?" you croaked. This was all terribly new information.

"I had just assumed..." he said, growing smaller the more he talked. "I assumed we were...kind of...a couple?"

You continued to stare at him.

"You flirt with me all the time!" he offered. "And I flirt back!"

"In what world do you flirt back?" you laughed. Maybe you really were going through a mental break. Had he really known you had been flirting with him this entire time?

"I tease you," he muttered. "And I try to say sweet things, but every time I think I've come up with something good, it comes out wrong."

"I had no idea," you whispered. "But Wonwoo, I feel exactly the same."

"Oh," he huffed, now trying to process the whirlwind of information that had been exchanged. "Well, excellent!"

"Just...can you try to be a little more obvious with your attempts to romance me?" you laughed. Apparently, you had been the clueless one all along.

"I'm more than happy to try," he said, a cautious smile finding its way back to his lips. "I have your favorite compliment geared up and ready."

"Oh? And what's that?"

He prodded your cheek with his nose, closing his eyes as his forehead came to rest on your temple. "Good game, KillerQuiche."

[cheyisagirlkisser]

college roommate ellie(soccer player) x reader (volleyball player) uuuh, maybe ellie x reader meeting in the olympic village yess omg thanks in advance ❤️

THANK YOU FOR THIS!! my first request:) I hope this is good!! (I'm gonna be honest I don't know much about the olympics so I'm sticking with the college setting! I'm gonna keep this pg-13 btw I hope you don't mind😭)

You weren't really in the same league in athleticism as your roommate Ellie Williams was. You played volleyball in high school and went on to play for the girls volleyball team, but you played because it kept you fit and because the sport was simply freeing. It was a repetitive therapy to bounce the ball up into the air and slam it forward. It helped that you were naturally skilled when it came to the sport- your coach often praised you on your serves and the way you effortlessly left your opponents scrambling to pass the ball.

Ellie, however, was extremely serious about soccer. To her, it was never just a hobby or fun activity. She was obsessed. There's a certain drive, a passion she contains that you noticed when you were assigned the same dorm room. It was like watching a star simply exist before it lit up the sky, or like knowing someone before they became famous. You just knew she'd make a name out of herself. Her passion was invested in the discipline, the practice, the emotional toll that it all took to be the best. She never considered herself a competitive person because she knew she passed every hurdle in her way. Not to say it wasn't difficult, that she was purely talented and never had to work to become one of your university's best soccer players, but nobody could stand a chance even at their best. You settled for average games, and she wouldn't settle until she was an Olympics champion.

The way Ellie would come back after every practice sweaty and pumped up left your heart in a twisted position. You were never really passionate about your sport the way she was, and watching someone exceed in every way should've made you jealous. It should've made you want to try harder at your own sport so you could become one of the best in your career. Sure, you wanted to play on some big team in the future after college or maybe you'd like to be a star like Ellie would be. She should've been a feat of motivation for your heart. However, she only served as a means of a pathetic crush you harbored deep inside you.

You and Ellie got along well. She was always polite to you, and you'd be invited to her games that you ended up attending almost every one of just to watch her eyes light up when she'd score. Every time she'd talk to you, it was with a measure of control, though, as if she was not planning on getting too close to you. She was smart, strategic even off the field. This only made you want her more.

To Ellie, the distance only made her crave you more, too. She wanted to focus on her career. She thought if she indulged in the obvious feelings between you two that it would only end in heartbreak. She was a busy woman, so that thought was pretty reasonable. It only hurt more to keep the distance, though.

She allowed herself lingering glances when you were in her vicinity, either snuggled up on the couch with that raggedy blanket of yours that you brought from your childhood home, or when you'd be in the common area kitchen baking for your friends and you. She'd try to focus on her homework–that's why she was outside of her room in the first place. She liked writing papers outside of her cramped bedroom in the dorm. However, when you were around, especially in that damn kitchen..

She imagined herself coming home from a game, walking into your shared home to strip out of her jersey and into a baggy t-shirt of yours. Maybe your jersey(or whatever you call volleyball uniforms), because it always smelled so much like you. She'd approach you while you kneaded the dough into something sweet and warm, wrapping her sweaty arms around yours from behind and planting kisses onto the nape of your neck.

These little fantasies had to go away, or Ellie would go insane.

At first, she felt an immense amount of guilt about them. So much so, she felt distracted when it came to her passion, and anytime she heard your voice cheering for her on the bleachers, it only made her head dizzy. Just a slight twinge of frustration in herself, because she just couldn't focus like she used to when you were around.

However, the little daydreams that started out innocent and temporary turned into a full-blown obsession with you. So much so that one day, Ellie found herself in your bedroom going through your laundry basket for one of your jerseys. She felt bad doing this; the poor girl really just liked you and wanted one hit of indulgence, not all of you. At least that's what she told herself.

When she finally had the fabric in her hands, she paused to make sure you weren't approaching, and she brought her hands to her nose to take your scent in. The fabric consisted of the heavy scent of your sweat and what she could only identify as that sickly sweet perfume you put on every morning. She almost doubled over at the pure bliss she felt when she experienced this moment.

It wasn't a perverse thing for Ellie, no. She found a loving comfort in your scent. She wished to bury her face into the side of your neck and inhale more of it. She wished to cling onto your waist and leave kisses all over your beautiful skin, to show you how much she adored you after so much time spent politely keeping distance.

When she realized what she was doing, she thought about how horrible it felt to do this behind your back. She mumbled something to herself, conscious eating her alive. She threw the jersey back down into the basket and vowed to respect your privacy. That promise was broken embarrassingly fast.

The act of sneaking into your room and sniffing your jerseys became routine for Ellie. She started maybe once a week, then it became 4 times and soon enough it was a daily occurrence. All the while, her behavior was pretty much the same. She always had a yearning deep inside her soccerball-shaped heart for more. However, she was too much of a coward to actually confess to you or to risk getting her heart broken.

That was, until the false sense of routine came crashing down onto her.

It was a mundane week, homework the same miserable amount, soccer practice on Wednesdays and your volleyball practice on a Thursday. It was thankfully a Thursday, and you about to head out for practice.

You gave Ellie a quick goodbye and closed the door behind you, and she was left on the couch, heart racing as she made a beeline for your bedroom.

She sank down onto her knees like some dramatic schoolgirl, searching through your laundry for her daily dose of you. However, there it was, in all its glory, the jersey. Ellie noticed one of your extras underneath it, which was a bit odd because you usually only had one in your laundry at a time. However, she was too caught up in your scent to think about it. She was also much too caught up to notice the door opening and closing again.

She heard it after it was too late. You walked through the house, reaching your bedroom, making sure to alert Ellie of your presence.

"Hey Ellie? Where are you, have you seen my volleyball jer-"

There you were, standing in the doorway with wide eyes.

And there Ellie was, sitting on the floor next to your laundry basket, your jersey in her face.

You were struck with silence. Ellie watched as your jaw practically fell onto the floor. You tried to find it in you to speak, but Ellie spoke first. She couldn't hold it in much longer. And there it was, a nervous outburst of feelings that had been tucked away for much too long.

"Look, I'm so sorry for coming into here- I didn't mean to invade your privacy..I..I just can't do this anymore. I understand if you don't feel it too, but I really, really like you. Like, really. And your jerseys just smell like you-" Ellie shut up when she realized what she had just admitted.

You stood in the door, frozen for a moment. It felt like forever to Ellie. She was TERRIFIED you would report her to the dean and have her kicked out of college, to lose her career and scholarship in the school of her dreams, to lose soccer-

But what you did wasn't yell at her or give her a look of disgust. Instead, you sank to the ground next to her and your fingers stroked her bright red cheeks.

"I really, really, really like you, Ellie", and you gave her this adorable smile that made her even more nervous than she was when she was convinced you'd get her thrown out of college.

"W-Wait, so does that mean you're not..mad?"

You gave an awkward giggle, and Ellie's heart fluttered. "Well, this is definitely weird. I'd appreciate it if you maybe just..kissed me instead of searching through my laundry. Or at least asking, ya know?"

Ellie took the hint and leaned forward. You met her halfway, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach spread throughout, as if the enclosure they were trapped in for so long had been unlocked, her feelings set free. Your lips were so soft and tasted sweet like a flavored chapstick, hers gently moving against them.

When you both reluctantly pulled, away Ellie had this light in her eyes that you only saw when she'd play soccer. And in that moment, she was no longer afraid of her crush on you.

[shuggymaniac]

Arranged marriage/Royalty AU

((competent Buggy because I like him))

Buggy an ambitious prince who wants to rule over the greatest and flashiest kingdom known in history. He killed his king father who was a mad king and made sure to scare away anyone who would try to take the throne from him.

His kingdom flourished, he met with nobles and royal families from other kingdom to set so financial deals that could benefit both sides of the other kings or princes were stupid he could take bigger advantage from the deal. The only king who caught up to him was King Roger, who with the help of his blonde advisor were able to get the better of Buggy, which angered the blue haired young king a lot.

Maybe trying to trick the king after a few months from swindling a young prince for a piece of his land that was rich in pearls that he had no idea about making Buggy’s kingdom richer did not help.

So when he got a letter from king Roger inviting him to his kingdom for possibly political alliance he did not expect to be asked to marry the crown prince. The did crown prince, Shanks, was obviously a rebellious one. He did not understand how things worked how to deal with nobles with different titles. Or how to hide his emotions for strategical gain. All he knew was fighting, drinking and laying with different partners.

Buggy would have refused right then and there. To join their kingdoms only to have his title as a king taken away and end up as the crown prince again?? No way in hell!! But then he was shown a contract written by the smart advisor. The contract said that Buggy will still keep the title of a king to not only his but also their kingdom, since Roger will step down and make Shanks king after marriage, how he will have full access to their wealth, land and what not. And all he had to do is marry Shanks and role beside him.

Buggy would have burst out laughing if he wasn’t really good at hiding his emotions. Were they stupid??!! Giving him all these benefits just by marrying their idiot prince, did they believe that just because they gave him all this wealth and power that he will live happily ever after with their spoiled prince?

He will kill that bastard the first chance he gets and then all of this will be his alone and because of this contract that mostly benefited him no one will be able to take it away from him, as long as he does it subtly he will be the most powerful and flashy king known to man kind!!

So he told them that he will think about it and reply within the month, not showing how he already decided to accept the deal in these 10 minutes he spent reading the contract, just so they wouldn’t be suspicious of him.

After making sure his kingdom would be safe and settled while he was gone Buggy left to meet and Marry his future husband, and what he saw disgusted him. Crown prince or not this guy was dirty, half drunk and didn’t even greet him properly, it doesn’t matter how handsome he was beauty is nothing if you don’t have a brain to use it. If the Advisor, Rayleigh, was not there to smack the young prince every time he misbehaved Buggy would have done it himself.

After talking alone for once Shanks was honest and told Buggy how he doesn’t want to be rude down by marriage that he wants to continue partying everyday and that he was considering leaving him at the at the altar, which will humiliate the proud prince if he didn’t call off the Marriage, but Buggy is smarter than that. He tell Shanks how after marriage he will not ride Shanks down that as an offer of “Good well” he will be generous and deal with all the political work that maybe by doing that they will build at least a friendship.

Just because they will be married doesn’t mean they have to act as such.

Shanks was suspicious for a very short moment before agreeing to the deal, because his father will be happy that he married and became a king the same time Shanks will continue living his best life without worrying about royal duties. Meanwhile Buggy was thinking how should his future husband die “Hunting accident” “Jealous concubine/ mistress” “poisoned from a drink in a bar” “assassination attempt during training” many choices that Buggy will take his sweet time picking from after his marriage.

And as promised, the very next day after the wedding Buggy wasted no time. He brought nobles for a meeting, demanded all the files and papers of the kingdoms history, reports about the problems that the people are dealing with and met with the soldiers and generals. The people were impressed by their new king’s devotion to his new roles, cleaning up a great part of the kingdoms problems in less than 3 months.

And where was Shanks? He was living his life as if he wasn’t even of royal blood. But of course, the news of his people adoring the new king makes him intrigued about his husband. At some point he will accompany him around to see what was he doing exactly, he got bored easily seeing that Buggy was mostly doing paper work and going to meetings. But his actions annoyed Buggy he kept asking stupid questions “what are you doing?” “ what is this for?” “Why do you want to talk to that guy he is so boring?” “All this work and you’re still not tired? Amazing!” “Buggy I’m bored let’s go eat something!”

It reminded Buggy that he was planning to kill his husband but got distracted with all the work because taking care of 2 kingdoms was difficult.

Now Buggy really cared about his image.

As a king dealing with many snakes who want to stab him in the back he needed to keep a calm demeanor. Only his very close and trusted friends knew about his explosive and short tempered nature, so imagine his great worry when after a an exhausting day his husband decided to follow him around as usual when he was bored with partying, and he bugged the blue haired king with questions until he exploded.

“Can you even shut up!!?? All you do is ask stupid questions that you’re not even listening or paying attention when I answer you, all you do is drink around screw and sleep and the. Come to me when bored. Listen to me you shitty haired bastard!! And I the great and flashy Buggy unlike you have actually doing my work and not lazing around like a cheap pass around, so unlike you can find me the base of the rebels and it’s founder I don’t want to see your ugly face!!”

It was the first time Buggy actually showed his true nature to Shanks who stood there stunned with several others who were around. Everyone thought Shanks would burst out in anger because despite his carefree nature the red hair doesn’t not tolerate disrespect towards him, but to their surprise Shanks’s eyes widened slightly before turning around and leaving the room. Buggy did not realize what he did until the next day, so he planned to force himself to apologize to Shanks for out outburst but was told that the prince hadn’t returned to his chambers since last night he waited and waited but few weeks passed and the prince still did no return. Buggy shrugged it off because he knew Shanks is able to take care of himself and it was no uncommon for him to disappear for so lon.

but it was a surprise when news reached him of prince Shanks returning with a procession following him. And that the procession was of beaten up and half dead rebel soldiers. When entering the court room the first thing Shanks did was throw a familiar looking Nobel man who Buggy tried to get rid of from day one. He was tied up and obviously beaten up. When seeing Buggy’s confused stare Shanks explained with a big smile.

“You said you didn’t want to see my face unless I caught the rebels and their founder, so here they are, i tried my best to caught as many as I could alive but ended up killing a few but the leader is alive so you can do with them whatever you want, execute, torture or whatever you want really”

“W…wait… that what were you being doing all this time? Why?”

“I can’t have my hardworking and pretty husband upset with me now can I?”

He simply replied making Buggy blush for the first time. And he couldn’t control his emotions or cared of who was watching charges making the tied up noble man flinch and close his eyes thinking the blue haired king is going to kill him personally but was confused when the king went past him to grab the red haired king by the collar.

“Are you making fun of me, you bastard!?!”

Everyone who didn’t see that side of Buggy was stunned as they watched him curse and shove Shanks around, but no one stepped forward to stop them because Shanks was smiling and laughing as if it was just a game between the two.

Ever since then Shanks did go drinking as often and when he did drink he did it inside the castle with his friends, he did his best to try and help Buggy, mostly with anything that needed his fighting skills, but Buggy always dismissed him, he joined the blue hair to every meal, he always made sure Buggy took breaks. Suddenly bursting into the office with a picnic basket and dragging his screaming husband outside with him so they can set and eat together. That he only goes to voyages in sea to bring treasures for his husband. That he would deliberately tease the short tempered king to get a reaction from him.

Buggy things that his red haired husband was trying to make him go crazy.

How will the members of the court, his and Shanks’s friends tell him that Shanks was actually courting his Husband in his own way.

Rayleigh just shrugs as he watched the interaction between the two not believing that Roger’s messy plan actually worked better than expected. How buggy completely forgot about trying to kill Shanks and that Shanks was actually trying to take responsibilities over his duties one way or another.

“Did you see how that kid tried to swindle me for a part of my seas? I gotta say I respect that! Hahahah!! Maybe Shanks could use this type of intelligence to ground him, how about we make them be friends huh?”

“With their different personality, Buggy will try to kill in the first day.”

“Then how about getting married, a lot of couples want to kill each other but don’t for each other benefits.”

“And how will you make him marry shanks?”

“What if I gave him the sea parts that he wanted?”

“If I was in his place I won’t marry shanks if you gave me the all the wealth in the world”

“Good point, then it’s settled I will give him my kingdom”

“You- WHAT!!??”

[simonrilee]

Okay. So I was on Instagram, as one is, and I saw a reel essentially asking, of the four who who you would chose to protect you from the other three (who are hunting you for some reason). However, I lost the fucking reel and I'm so pissed because I was going to leave an in depth comment.

I then remembered that Tumblr exists. So you guys are going to get my in depth response to that question because I have thoughts about this.

I'm by no means an expert on fighting or battle strategy or whatever so this may be completely incorrect but this is who I would chose, as a laymen, and why, or why not.

First off, Barrage. Immediately eliminating him from my pool of potential protectors. Mostly because I don't know enough about him, and what I do know doesn't inspire me with much confidence. He's just some sc operator. He's not particularly special. All the sc operators have this skin in the campaign, he's technically not even his own person, or his own character. I'm going based off of the assumption that he is just a boot on the ground, grunt type of guy that became part of a PMC after his time in the military. Pitting him against three special forces guys does not seem like a smart move. Sorry Barrage.

Now it gets interesting. Three spec ops dudes.

We'll start with Horangi. I do not think he is to be underestimated, in any capacity. A lot of the comments I saw underneath the original reel lumped him in with Barrage as being useless. Which is absolutely absurd. If you know anything about him you know that he was a part of the ROK's 13th Special Mission Brigade. Also known as The Decapitation Unit. These guys are fucking hardcore. They take out high value targets (like military and political leaders! well protected targets), and they do it efficiently. He clearly has to have a level head for this sort of job. Horangi is a great candidate.

Next is König. His backstory has had some changing around, but I'm going to go based off of him being Austrian and part of the Jagdkommando. Like other special forces units, they undergo intensive training. We take into account now König's role in the Jagdkommando. He's big, and brash, and his job is being the spearhead, the battering ram. I don't think he's very concerned with being sneaky, and probably has a rather aggressive approach. This may work in some situations, but if I'm being chased and have to hide, I don't know that he's my first choice. He's still a decent candidate, he's clearly skilled at what he does, I'm just not sure that in this hypothetical scenario, that he is what I need.

Lastly, we have Ghost. Now, we know the most about him, which makes him easier to dissect as a choice. Obviously, as a part of the SAS, he has undergone rigorous training, same as the others. What gives him an edge, is that Ghost is a lot more precise, and strategic about everything he does. Whereas I think König is more of a 'brute force' type of guy. Ghost would also have the skillset to take out high value targets quickly, quietly, and efficiently. A skill he shares with Horangi.

In the end, it really boils down to Horangi or Ghost for me. This is when I start looking at more of the intricacies. Horangi's job was to eliminate high value targets. Ghost does that too. However, Ghost also has experience in protecting targets, and dealing with hostage situations. So, my final answer is Ghost. Horangi as a close second, though.

Feel free to add your two cents to this, I just needed to yap.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

So, for the very sexy anon that sent me this

I hope you see this ❤️ Because I agree, whole heartedly Thembo under the cut

CW: Small drabble, NSFW, light hearted dub-con with thembo!Reader

Poor little barbarian, completely unaware that they were having sex until Xyleth was about to cum.

Being carried to his tent was the most exciting moment of the young warrior's life. They struggled against the children of the monstrous clan, so to have a chance to take on Xyleth, the most physically intimidating of the village, was an opportunity that filled (Reader) with both pride and adrenaline.

Within the tent, (Reader) was set on their feet, and they began stretching, smiling giddily.

"Ah, I shall not go easy on you, despite our difference in species.." The giant smirked down at his human, admiring the defined muscles of their exposed arms. "You should remove your clothing beforehand, so we do not ruin your outfit.."

"Oh!" The beautiful dummy gasped. "That's smart!"

In their naivety, (Reader) undressed in front of their mate the leader of the tribe without a second thought, unaware of the meaning behind the subtle thumping of his tail.

Xyleth was pleased to watch as they stripped down completely to the nude, having anticipated that they would have stopped at their undergarments.

'My little mate knows how to tease me in such a lovely way!'

As Xyleth became uncontrollably aroused, the naked human before him marveled at the cultural differences between the two species. However, wrestling nude made complete sense, and (Reader) wondered why none of the others suggested it earlier.

The two squared off, feet spread and hunched. An oddly flat tongue ran across Xyleth's teeth as he was given a perfect view of his exposed love.

(Reader) made the first move, smiling maniacally as they launched themselves forward towards the hulking beast towering above them. As their hands collided, the human slid back from the force of their struggle against Xyleth, who didn't flinch in the slightest.

Every move (Reader) made was wrong.

Every action they took against the leader made it harder for him to keep the "foreplay" (as he thought it to be) going. Their actions displayed their strength in the most attractive of ways, they pushed themselves against his claws to the point of sweating, filling the tent with their scent, and worse of all, they kept complimenting him.

Genuine comments such as "Man, I'm lucky to get this chance!", and "Damn, I knew you were strong, but this is impressive!", caused the chuckling man to nearly cry with the amount of love he felt for his mate, physically feeling his adoration for (Reader) in his chest.

Unable to contain his lust, he grappled (Reader) and spun them to the ground, wrapping the struggling warrior in his arms and legs, pinning them onto the previously strategically placed mats.

Sex education was a thing taught in (Reader's) community, but when they felt something painfully large enter their body, they didn't instantly connect the dots; being so focused on the fight that they laughed through the pain, still battling with all their might to release themselves from Xyleth's grip, wondering what kind of fighting style this was.

"Ah, fuck! That hurts.. You're really good at this!" The panting, dark red barbarian praised the victor, which for some reason made the pain harder and faster as whatever it was that Xyleth inserted began ramming into them.

Xyleth was grunting on top of (Reader), fucking the clueless human like an animal. In his mind, he was marking them as his mate, ready to bond the two of them as life partners. However, the wet mess getting railed under the monster was slowly becoming more and more embarrassed. (Reader) felt an orgasm building inside their tight body, and was scared to ask Xyleth to stop. How shameful it would be, to get turned on by a friendly sparring match!

"Xyleth, you- you win!" They stuttered out, barely able to speak while holding in their moans as pleasure assaulted their nerves. "Tapping out, buddy!"

"Why?" He chuckled while licking the shell of (Reader's) ear. "You're so close to cumming.."

"Huh-?"

The sensation of thick cum painting their insides brought about (Reader's) own climax, forcing it out of them as Xyleth continued thrusting into them, filling them to the point where it was spilling out, smacking loudly and wetly between their connecting hips as it leaked out of (Reader's) twitching hole and dripped down their thighs.

"What a good little mate you are.." was purred as the monster planted soft kisses across their jaw and earlobe, keeping himself deep inside of his new mate as he collapsed.

"Huh??"

[rypnami]

pirate captain sebastian sallow headcanons

this is part of my pirate au, which i'm working on in the background between art and my main fic!! divider from here

everyone knows pirates were gay, and sebastian has all that bisexual man swagger

he runs a very tight ship when necessary, but is overall a relaxed leader figure

his parents died when he was 7

as a teen, anne and his uncle both fell very ill with scarlet fever, and while their uncle died, anne survived but still to this day is not fully recovered

magic doesn't technically exist, but sebastian believes in it anyway

he takes to sailing the sea when he hears rumour of a mysterious, lost magical relic that supposedly has healing powers, and he wants to find it to fully cure his sister

he became captain at only 17 after the previous captain died and left the ship to him. he'd proven himself as ambitious, strategic, and smart enough to hold his own and keep everything in order

may be a nice guy, but do not cross him, or assume you know better than him on how to run his own ship. he does not take any disrespect lightly

competent duellist, of course, and is known to take other ships for his own

although his family was always relatively poor and he never had proper schooling, he always tried to learn everything he could wherever he could

he's a top. thats that on that

he finds life on a ship, living by his own rules, incredibly freeing, and would probaby genuinely go mad living in a 'proper' town after so long at sea

the most charming man to ever live. very similar to his canon personality, he can get what he wants with a wink and a smile, and people are falling over themselves for him

having grown up poor, he knows the struggle and doesn't actually keep much treasure he loots for himself. he doesn't really have any need for it, so he gives it to the people that do need it

he and the commander of the british royal navy (leander) have a very strained relationship, beyond just the criminal v cop dynamic. there's probably more to that story👀but sebastian will NOT talk about it and will tell off anyone who asks

the BIGGEST flirt on the seven seas. probably on all land, too. that said, he craves a genuine deep connection and although he might have casual flings, deep down he wants someone to sail with who loves him for him, and helps him run his ship

looks damn good in a pirate fit, but everyone already knew that

brilliant artist, hand-drew several of the maps he and his crew uses

crew is made up of other au HL characters, tbd!! (perhaps even some MCs if there's interest tee hee)

incredibly loyal person, especially to his crew. sees them as more of a family than people he can order around if he wants to

gets back to the town he's from when he can to check on anne and her condition

did i mention he's a massive flirt

[nikethestatue]

A Ballad of Sorrow and Love

End of Elriel Month 2024 and end of the story.

TW: death, I guess.

Part III

Lovely Fawn

Despite Rhysand’s not so subtle objections, Azriel decided to attend the reception with the Vallahan dignitaries. Elain didn’t protest either, so he concluded that it would be appropriate for him to make an appearance. Not that he necessarily wanted to, however, he was the Prince of Hewn City, and his title obligated him to do things which he didn’t always enjoy–like attending boring parties. At least in Hewn City, he could fuck Elain in front of the Court, if he so desired. She wouldn’t say no, and it certainly made receptions a lot more interesting and enjoyable. No such pleasure in Night Court. 

Today, Elain dressed in a black dress that was little more than gossamer, which wrapped around her voluptuous body like second skin. It glittered with sequins and strategically placed black flowers, which covered her breasts and her bottom. A smattering of extra sparkles was all that concealed her front. A long train slithered on the floor with every step that she took. Elain liked pearls–a stone of mourning and innocence, of fertility and purity, of perfection and romance–and wrapped many strands around her neck and her wrists. 

“A crown for my Princess,” Azriel announced, opening up a heavy wooden box.

Elain smiled and peered inside. It was the Black Peregrine Crown tonight then. One of her favourites. A heavy, imposing crown made of black and white diamonds, studded with black and white pearls, tourmalines and opals. Azriel lifted the crown from its velvet nest and then gently placed it on Elain’s golden head. 

“Perfect,” he whispered when she straightened and he could observe her in all her glory. “You are so fucking beautiful, Elain. So beautiful.”

They stepped out on the terrace and Azriel opened his arms, allowing Elain to slip into his embrace. He lifted her easily off the ground and as she wrapped her arms around his neck, he spread his wings and shot up into the air. She threw a shield over them, so that the wind didn’t mess up her hair and once they crossed the enchanted barrier that surrounded the palace, the weather became less than pleasant, with heavy rain pelting the ground and bouncing off the air shield. “Thanks, smart girl!” Azriel chuckled, grateful for the shield and then kissed her.

Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court sat in his chair, which wasn’t quite a throne, but also wasn’t just a simple chair. It was long, made for two, for him and for Feyre, his High Lady, to sit beside him. He didn’t feel the need to greet his guests on a throne–this wasn’t going to be a show of power and his High Lord’s might. The relationship between his Court and Vallahan was friendly enough. Although now, after what Azriel had uncovered about Eris and Lucien, Rhysand didn’t know who to trust. And whether he could ever let his guard down the way he did with the Vanserra brothers. This thing pressed on him and he wasn’t at his best. Feyre flitted around the reception room, greeting and welcoming the guests, and even Nesta helped out, doing a passable impression of being interested. 

“Are you alright?” Feyre whispered, when she finally extricated herself for a moment and approached him. She looked lovely, dressed in a pale pearl gown with a halter top, which was tied in the back into a large bow and then flowed into a fluttering train of silk.

“All good, Feyre darling,” he smiled at her and kissed her hand. 

Then, his eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. Seeing the change in his expression, Feyre turned her head and before she could say anything, Rhys hissed, “what is he doing here? I requested that he not come!”

Her arms crossed on her chest, Nesta Archeron, stately and cool, stepped behind him and said, “He has just as much right to be here as you do. You are a High Lord of your Court and he is a Prince of his.”

“This is my Court,” Rhys cut her off, “and my request.”

Nesta shrugged in her usual nonchalant way, not giving him any leeway.

“She is right, you know,” Feyre agreed, eyeing her mate with displeasure.

“Don’t gang up on me,” he ordered. “Because you both know that I am right. He makes things uncomfortable. He is barely lucid as it is…”

“Lucid enough to have uncovered a massive conspiracy that spans the continent,” Nesta noted meaningfully.

Rhys shook his head and insisted, “these types of events are inadvisable for him.”

“Elain is with him,” Nesta said calmly. “She will keep him in line.”

“Az!” she then called, waving her arm at him. “How are you? It’s nice to see you. We weren’t sure you’d come tonight.”

She walked to him and then embraced him, before saying, “good evening Ellie-girl!”

Feyre joined them soon after and greeted Azriel with a wide smile.

“Are you treating my sister well?” she joked.

Azriel pulled Elain to his side and draped his arm over her shoulders, before pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Always,” he said. Elain nodded.

“What are you wearing today?” Feyre whispered and then said, “The Black Peregrine!”

Azriel’s eyes wandered to his High Lord and he saw that Rhys was scowling in his direction–not that it was a very unusual reaction. The brothers didn’t see eye to eye most of the time. 

Rhys would’ve wanted to pull the Court of Nightmares back under his control, but the divine Power wouldn’t allow him too, refusing to budge away from Azriel.

“Uncle Az!” He heard a lovely familiar voice and turned around, smiling. 

His beautiful niece Elena hurried toward him, a pretty pink gown with black flowers accentuating her incredible loveliness. It always amused him how Cassian’s and Nesta’s daughter looked so much like Elain. Same golden brown curls, same big dark round eyes, same shy smile. 

“My pretty girl, I am so happy to see you here tonight!” he exclaimed, taking her into his arms and embracing her tightly. 

“Uncle Rhys wanted me to be here,” she explained, “though he told me that you wouldn’t be coming,” she frowned at that.

Azriel shrugged, “He never wants me to come,”

“Ahhh,” she sighed sadly. “I so wish you’d patch things up with him! He is not being very fair to you.”

“It’s been like that for years,” Azriel said, “I suppose I am used to it by now,”

She stomped her little foot and said, “Well, it isn’t fair! And you shouldn’t accept it.”

He smiled at her, again, reminded of Elain –even that little pout was all Elain. 

He flicked the top of her arched ear and said, “You look like your aunt!”

“Pfff, everyone says that!” then she glanced at the clock and said, “oh, I have to run, Uncle,”

“Where are you going?”

She rolled her eyes, “Nyx and myself and Kira and Zoya (Nesta and Cassain’s other daughters) are expected to go and entertain the ambassadors’ children. At least they are our age!”

Azriel smiled and kissed her forehead. “You better join us for dinner then.”

“We will!” she blew him a kiss and hurried away.

Before the ambassadors entered the reception hall, Rhys released a bit of his power, so it thrummed in the air, filling the space and making all who were present pay attention. Feyre took her seat at his side. Then it was Azriel, who held the highest rank behind the High Lord and Lady. He sat in a chair, with Elain beside him, and wrapped his arm around her. He was glad of it too, because he was too fucking old to be standing around, greeting ambassadors and emissaries. That was a job for the kids like Elena and Nyx. They had the energy. And Cassian too, apparently, because he stood behind Nesta’s seat, legs apart, hand on his sword. Hopefully, there wasn’t going to be a need for all that tonight.

The six ambassadors and their entourage arrived soon after and Rhysand rose from his chair in a gesture of good will, greeting them.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice loud and melodious, created to put visitors at ease. 

The males and two females bowed, and Rhys began the introductions.

“My mate, the High Lady of Night Court, Feyre Archeron.”

Feyre smiled and inclined her head at the guests.

Rhys continued, bypassing Azriel, though he was supposed to have been next,

“General Nesta Archeron, Cauldron Made, leader of the Valkyrie armies.”

Nesta greeted them politely, her back straight, her face placid.

“Cassian, Commander General of the Night Court.”

Then he paused, and everyone’s gazes inevitably fell on Azriel.

“His Highness, Prince Azriel of Hewn City,” Rhys finally said with a sigh. “Commanding General of the Darkbringers, Lord of the Court of Nightmares.”

Azriel glared at Rhysand and while the others bowed and curtsied, he barked loudly,

“AND?”

At that, Feyre got up and walked to him, saying calmly,

“And Lady Elain Archeron of the Court of Nightmares, Princess of Hewn City, Cauldron Made.”

Everything stopped, the very air silent and tense.

The ambassadors stared at the High Lady, then at Azriel. And then at Nesta, who stood up and walked over as well, saying loudly ‘my sister’.

-

Only there was no one next to Prince Azriel.

He sat alone in his chair.

Because, as everyone knew, Princess Elain had died in childbirth 184 years ago.

-

His mind had fractured that day. 

They didn’t know that Elain was carrying twins until it was too late. The girl, who was small, hid behind the boy for too long in their mother’s womb. Their heartbeats beat in unison, and even the most experienced healers didn’t notice a second baby. A wingless baby. A baby who survived, while her mother and brother died. A baby who was picked up by her uncle Cassian, while his wife and mate Nesta was mute and dumb from grief and his brother Azriel flew out of the birthing room, only to return forever changed. Cassian took the baby with him and named her Elena.

Whether Azriel knew that Elain was dead and had been dead for almost two centuries, Feyre did not know. He never indicated that he was aware. He never called Elain a ‘ghost’ or made it known that he knew that she was dead, but it was easier to pretend like she was alive.

No.

The three of them–Feyre, Rhys and Cassian–were quite sure that Azriel had lost his mind that day and consequently, Elain’s death simply never registered with him. When he’d returned from his flight that day, he seemed the same as he always was. No shadows whispering in his ears, no sadness in his eyes. He did seem to be conscious of the fact that the children weren’t born, but he and ‘Ellie’ sat down with Temal, his adopted son, and explained it to him. Temal wasn’t exactly a child by then, but a grown man and he understood that something had happened to his father when Elain had died. Ever since then, Temal has played along. Almost two hundred years later, it became…normal to him. That his father and the illusion of his mother lived together and ruled together. It somehow became ‘normal’ to all of them, except for Rhys. But Feyre and Cassian, and especially Nesta protected Azriel from Rhys.

Nesta wasn’t entirely lucid either. Feyre was sure that Nesta knew that Elain was dead, but she’d come to believe that Elain was always next to them–just like Azriel claimed.

Whether it was a hallucination or an illusion that Azriel’s traumatised mind had conjured, Feyre couldn’t know. But Azriel had lived with this version of Elain ever since that day, and never looked unhappy. He was never confused. He was never doubtful. The only time he displayed any agitation is when Rhys ‘forgot’ about Elain and acted like she wasn’t at Azriel’s side. In his mind, Azriel convinced himself that it was because Rhys didn’t want Elain to marry him, and therefore ignored her because of that. Otherwise, Azriel went about his life married to Elain. 

In fact, Feyre believed that perhaps, Azriel and his Elain, were the happiest couple among all of them. 

Nesta and Azriel talked to ‘Elain’, laughed with her, walked with her, and in Azriel’s case, lived with her. He lived with her as a man would with his wife–sleeping and eating with her, bathing and cooking, dancing and drinking, making love with her and going on missions together. He did everything with Elain. He was Elain’s husband for eternity, just like he promised her at their wedding. And she was with him, walking hand in hand, living into the promise that she’d made to him.

From what Feyre could gather, the only difference between how Nesta was with their sister, and how it was different from Azriel, was that Nesta couldn’t see Elain. But she always insisted that Elain spoke to her, and as unnerving as it was to hear, Feyre got used to Nesta saying ‘Elain told me…” or “Elain and I were talking and she said…” or “El and I were laughing the other day…” Nesta confided to Elain, cried to her, argued with her, got angry with her. She ‘invited’ Elain to her training, and even discussed military plans with her. Apparently Elain ‘played’ with Nesta’s girls, sang to them, and knew that Nesta was raising Elena. 

At least Nesta seemed to have been aware that Elena was not her daughter, but Elain’s. Though they’d all agreed that it would be best for Azriel not to know about Elena and to preserve his fragile mind, they always treated Elena as Nesta and Cassian’s daughter and Azriel’s niece. It was, therefore, especially amusing, but also heartbreaking that Azriel and the girl were so close and that he loved her far more than any other of his nieces and nephews. 

When Elain had passed on, they did not know what to do with the body. The little boy was lovely as well, handsome and strong–his father’s son. They could not very well bury her without Azriel’s consent. They certainly couldn’t cremate her either. The mere mention of Elain’s death had Nesta’s eyes glowing with silver flames, and when she unequivocally announced that Elain was not dead, they dared not argue with her.

So Elain and her son were laid in a glass coffin, both perfect and unblemished even in death, sealed within it, Elain’s immense power still seeping out of her and then brought to rest under the Prison. Beneath the roots of the mountain. Under Dusk Court.

“Princess Elain is happy to meet you,” Azriel said simply to the ambassadors.

Sometimes, Elain didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t pressure her.

Sometimes, she talked a lot and he loved listening to her. But there were days when she preferred to be quiet and it didn’t bother him at all. The two of them always understood each other perfectly well, even in silence. Before they became lovers, before they were married, Elain could always read him and his moods, she always knew what he was thinking and was aware of his reasons for his actions. Words were always somewhat superfluous to them. 

Their Court knew that the Princess sometimes communicated through him, and they’d come to accept that. But Elain was usually especially quiet around Rhys. It was as if she knew that he didn’t approve of her and did not like her.

The Court. The Court of Nightmares had a mad ruler, who ruled them alongside his dead wife. A ruler who was fully convinced that she sat on the throne with him, that she attended balls with him, that she weighed on topics and disagreements that arose during open sessions, that she opined on judicial decisions. But because he was a good ruler despite his madness, the Court…accepted it. So what if the Princess wasn’t there in the flesh. Perhaps, she truly spoke through him and who were they to question whether their Prince actually saw her and communicated with her if she were alive. 

“No sweetness, he is not angry that you came,” Azriel assured her, peering angrily at Rhysand. “Rhys is just stressed. Soon we’ll go to dinner and then I will dance with you.”

Elain smiled at him. And then she found her voice and asked, “you promise?”

“I promise. You are my princess. And I am your prince. And soon, we’ll go back to our dark kingdom and we’ll be home, amongst our people.”

“You promise?” she repeated.

“I do. I promise.”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

-

Epilogue

Seventeen years later

It took years to find him, but at last, he did.

Azriel looked down at the male cowering in the pews of the temple.

It was an oddly cathartic moment, he couldn’t deny it. 

Azriel and Lucien, forever locked in a silent battle, all because the Cauldron gave Elain to the wrong man. A lifetime of animosity, and the desire to correct a divine mistake. 

“Azriel,” Lucien straightened and looked at his nemesis with his one eye. 

“Lucien,” Azriel offered a curt nod.

“How did you find me?”

Azriel smirked.

“Well, if not me, then who?”

“I guess that’s true.”

Sighing heavily, Lucien looked down at the stone floor and wondered,

“So, now what? You finally get to kill me. And you’ll bring the traitor’s head to Rhysand as a trophy?”

Azriel seemed to consider it, cocking his head to the side. 

Could he? Should he?

“You deserve it,” he told Lucien simply.

“Perhaps. But I didn’t do it just for myself. I did it for the Fae kind as well.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

Lucien unsheathed his sword and asked coldly, “so, what happens now? How do you want to do this?”

Azriel turned his head and seemed to listen to something.

Lucien was well aware of the male’s madness–knew that Azriel thought that Elain was standing beside him that very moment, speaking to him.

“Elain says ‘hello’,” Azriel said.

It cost him nothing, and Lucien answered, “Hello Elain.”

Azriel stiffened and glanced at the other male with mild surprise. Like he wasn’t expecting Lucien to greet Elain.

After a long pause, Azriel scrubbed his chin and muttered, “she says not to kill you”.

Lucien almost dropped his sword, glaring at the Prince, mistrust in his eye.

“Stop fucking around, Shadowsinger. If you are here to kill me, then just do it.”

Azriel smiled at his old title. Shadowsinger. Yes, that power remained with him, but also disappeared some time ago. It was odd to hear the title spoken out loud.

“She asks for you to kill me,” he stated simply. “But only on this specific spot.”

“What are you on about?” Lucien groaned. “I am not killing you! If we fight, then we fight like real Fae!”

“I don’t need to fight like real Fae,” Azriel snapped. “I’ve fought for something for almost 800 years and what did it give me? Nothing. What I want is a life that was taken from me. What I want, is to live a life with my fucking wife. What I want is to escape this world, the judgement in everyone’s eyes, and to no longer be called a ‘madman’. I want to live a life with Elain Archeron. I want to be with her. I want…” he stopped, his voice trailing off. Then he raised his eyes and looked at Lucien, almost pleading with him, “I want release, Lucien. That’s what I want. I want to be with Elain. In this world. In another. I don’t care. I just want that…I just want to feel…Feel what I felt with her and have it be real.”

Lucien listened, unsure if Azriel was being truthful, but also saw the desperation in the male’s eyes. Was Azriel, in fact, not as mad as he let everyone believe?

Or was this just a moment of rare mental clarity?

“So I am to kill you?” he then confirmed.

“That’s what Elain says,” Azriel nodded. 

“And then what?”

“And then you go on your merry way, scheming or doing whatever it is that you do.”

“And Rhysand?”

“I am a burden, not a cause celebre to him,” Azriel shrugged indifferently. “And if it took me that long to find you, I think you are quite safe. He won’t find you.”

“What will happen when I kill you?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel confessed. “But Elain insists on it.”

“You do know that this is…” Lucien’s voice was quiet. “I am not used to murdering unarmed men…and you are my mate’s husband…”

“It’s all right,” Azriel shrugged. “I forgive you. Just do it already. Stop talking. I am at peace. My daughter will take over Hewn City. She is a marvellous, brilliant, smart woman–I know the Power will choose her.”

“You have a daughter?” Lucien exclaimed, absolutely puzzled by this new revelation.

“Yeah. I suspected that she was–for a long time–and I finally got proof a few years ago. And I am so proud of her. I’ve got two amazing children–Temal and my Elena. And my grandchildren. Believe me, I am at peace. I am content. And whatever is going to happen, is going to happen.”

He stepped aside and walked to a specific spot, stopping abruptly. 

“Elain says it has to be done here.”

“Why?”

“The Cauldron stood here for a while, in this specific spot. The Cauldron loves her and always helps her with odds and ends.”

“Killing you is helping her?” 

“I don’t know. We are about to find out. Also, do it cleanly, Vanserra. One through the heart. Got it?”

“I suppose.”

Azriel pulled Truth-Teller out of its sheath and clutched it in his hand. “Don’t want to lose it.”

Lucien approached him cautiously, still unsure of what was happening, but Azriel seemed at ease and determined.

“I guess I am coming home, treasure,” Azriel murmured.

-

Light flooded the space around him. Azriel stood in front of a door, in a place that was not familiar to him. He was still clutching his dagger in his hand. Gingerly, he pushed the door and it opened and he stepped inside. 

“Hi, love, are you home?” Elain called out from inside the house.

“I am,” Azriel murmured.

Suddenly, Elain, lovely as a morning sunrise, ducked her head from behind a wall and smiled at him.

“You are late,” she said.

“It took me a long time to find the way here.”

He looked around.

Nothing seemed familiar, and yet it was. It was a house filled with things that were unknown to him, and of a different origin. 

“Is this the Land of Milk and Honey?” he wondered.

“No. It’s Lunathion.”

This was…unexpected.

She came to him, looking just like he remembered her, only glowing with life and health. Her outfit was unusual and unfamiliar to him–a plain sleeveless shirt that was quite tight and a pair of short pants, which looked more like underwear than something one would wear outside. Her long braid hung carelessly over her shoulder. On her finger, she wore the ring that he’d given her when they married. The same simple silver band. 

“I’ve been waiting,” Elain said, putting his hand to her lips.

“What was the price?” he wondered, looking down at her and still unsure if this was another illusion, if this was death, or if this was real.

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and then admitted,

“There is no going back. This was the Cauldron's final gift. Its parting gift. We died, only to live again, but here. We’ll never see any of them again. Not our children, not our family. We can never jump through a Rift to go back. We died.”

He nodded.

A price he was willing to pay.

“Ready for a new chapter?” she said.

“With you?” he asked hopefully.

She reached for him and took his scarred hand in hers.

“With me. Forever.”

“Forever.”

[mydearestbeloved]

okay chapter 5 review here bc word limit.

amazing how your very first and latest draft can change how I feel about your story as a whole lmao. ngl the jinwoo in your first draft reminds me of those daydream yandere!jinwoo fics lolololol so imagine my whipslash when i read the revised and expanded draft of this.

i love those to death i will be honest here but sl reader fics that depicts jinwoo more closely to his canon counterpart always hit different fr. i love how jinwoo isn't trusting of reader and constantly trying to figure her out. he's so inquisitive and smart when trying to piece everything he can find about reader (that makes a lot of sense since he becomes a detective in the revised timeline).

i really appreciate you writing him like this and it's a shame canon kinda stop writing the strategic and observant jinwoo after over the half of the story. of course if you wanted to be more canon compliant (and an excuse to keep reader involved), jinwoo would have to be more suspicious and distrustful of her and monitor her (such a jinwoo move) bc yk his deep trust issue (that has been forgotten or somehow resolved on its own in the canon story just bc. no im not bitter about it nope). therefore, it's so intriguing to read fics where his issues being addressed and his worldview being challenged. i know solo leveling is a power fantasy but it's frustrating to see our protagonist keep proving right about his very flawed and detrimental outlook, carrying the world on his shoulders alone and all that and the story acts like none of that affects him negatively or has any long lasting consequences. again it's a power fantasy but i think i can overlook this very real potential issue only if the story isn't set in a modern and semi-realistic urban setting.

anyway i skimmed through all the drafts you have and i love how they are mostly about him slowly opening up to reader. my god i cannot wait until jinwoo becomes absolutely whipped for our fae queen like in the old drafts. i know it will be absolutely satistfying and worthwhile. (can't believe all the chapters are still drafts???)

?System¿:

[ Review of (14/11/2024) has been submitted.

We thank you for your feedback, Reader.

System will now connect you you to 《AUTHOR》 ]

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Thank you for sending your review, this genuinely made my day! 💞

Now onto your review:

Original vs Now

Funny story, this Trial Player AU's original idea was just supposed to be a single, one-shot thing. So, you're not wrong to think that it feels like a daydream yandere!Jinwoo fic, because IT IS.

I even format it like so because I didn't want to get overboard, and that I was afraid of losing interest if I held onto it for too long just because I don't have enough time to write it as long and detailed as I would've liked.

But as it turns out, I just fooled myself, because here we are with a full blown series. And me with too little time still.

The original concept of a trial player isn't even mine. I was inspired by one of @circeyoru's fics, where I just wanted to write a similar story but with a Reader that have different powers and personality.

I ended up having too many interesting ideas to expand this after posting Imagine #1, which now became the summary of this series instead of its original purpose as a one-shot, one-time thing.

To simplify: I hyperfixate. Drafts started piling up. I wanted to work out the details little by little but they were too messy for me to find the time to sit down and edit them. New method: try posting it. I can edit them as I go as long as I gave warnings beforehand to Readers that my writings can change. If this goes well, there's a chance I can receive feedbacks to improve further. Two birds with one stone. A win-win scenario for me.

I mostly write when I'm stressed out from studying and needed a temporary escape. So, it brings me extra joy when people actually enjoy my stress-induced vomit of words. 🥰

How I write canon characters

I LOVE Reader Inserts/x Reader stories, and one of the things that most of the time ruined them for me personally is if the canon intended act too OOC.

Like, I get it, we Readers aren't in the canon story, of course the canon characters will act out of script since they literally are. But if they act like a different person all together with little to no explanation, no reason that can tie them back to the essence that make them just them, then what's the point of canon x reader when it's just the same as oc x reader?

At least add a warning/note/anything else to inform readers if you're going to do that, or if you're not too sure you can write them to stay true to their canon counterparts (like me 😓).

In real life, we already proven that we are fickle beings. We kept changing for one reason or another, but we can still stay true to ourselves or be recognize as just us.

And that is what I tried to do in writing the canon characters, especially the MCs since we readers follow their story the closest, which resulted in us knowing about them more then the side/supporting characters.

We don't truly know them, we never will, but we can predict them when we put those characters in different scenes/scenarios/settings because they already have a pattern that we know.

That is what we readers of Readers Inserts ultimately sought after, to be able to imagine interacting with those same characters that we know through the pages.

At least, this is what I want. Different people, different views and opinions. This is mine.

How I write Sung Jinwoo in this alternate scenario

I only know of Solo Leveling through its webtoon/manhwa and anime adaptations. I know little no none how they are in the original webnovel/novel and game, and the little that I know are form spoilers, tidbits of them.

With this in mind, I do feel that the manhwa are missing some things, and as it turns out (from the spoilers I read), it does skip many scenes from the novel.

No hate for the artist though, if it were not for him, I wouldn't have known Solo Leveling. And I could only imagine how hard it would be to draw everything from the original.

As for Jinwoo, I'll try my best to stay true to his character from the manhwa. But note that I also added the 'Yandere' element. So, to make him not too OOC, I'll explore his thought process from the start to then falling in love to the point of madness with someone like Trial Player!Reader.

Back to the topic, this Trial Player AU of mine will mostly follow the manhwa, and I'll be using the manhwa-specific plot-holes/gaps to further integrate Trial Player!Reader into the story.

That said, I won't write/in detail all scenes there are in the manhwa. I'll only detailed scenes where I can show Trial Player!Reader's impact, while the rest are either skipped or summarized for the purpose of smooth transition between one scene and another.

I don't want this to be a slowburn, but I also needed to work out the details to Jinwoo's feelings if I want to execute this as smooth as I can get.

Hence, I apologize for the later instances of Jinwoo acting not himself, I'm still figuring out the details for those scenes, that is why I still labeled them as drafts.

Extra related topics

There is two points I shared that can be tied back to Player!Reader's personality:

One, she is a casual fan of Solo Leveling. To make this easier to write, what she knows about the original story is what I know. Reader reads the manhwa, watches the anime, and knows little of the game and original novel from spoilers only.

Second, her view of the Yandere trope. I already I wrote it somewhere in the (for now) unknown chapter 0.1, the only writing that I managed to finish.

I explained there how Reader views this particular fiction trope. It is in many ways similar to mine too. It's just so interesting to see how different people with different personalities spiral down to the far end of the emotion called love, more often associated with warmth and healing.

Emphasis on 'how', I want to see the process. Tying back to how I write Jinwoo.

It is just such an fascinating concept to imagine. And fiction have less restrictions to express that ideas than in reality, as long as we can (and should) differentiate which is true or not, which is good and bad, even if the line that separated them often blurred.

I DON'T condone yandere, toxic and extreme behaviors and actions in real life. All of my works are purely FICTION.

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I think that's all I can say for now. Thank you once again for reading my stories and for sharing your reviews. I really means a lot! 💞

Also, a piece of advice:

Perhaps you should hold off reading the last two chapter for now (9 and 10) until I updated them. Because they are of the newer drafts, there are certain 'too-fast-of-a-development'/OOC instances there that you might find a bit weird if I assumed through this review of yours.

I just feel responsible to point this out.

You're still free to read them, of course. After, you can just keep watch if I updated them, though by then you might want reread them. Hopefully, this is not too much. This is the downside of posting drafts. I apologize for the inconveniences.

I'll always inform a major draft update in my Masterlist. So there is no need to check each draft individually everytime.