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rafesbabygirlx · 23 hours ago

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Revenge - Frat!Rafe x Reader

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Summary: Your boyfriend cheated and you wanted revenge. Rafe was the first person you thought of to help you. You both had feelings for each other but never acted on them. Because of this he helped you in a heartbeat. Lights, camera, action.

REQUEST BASED OFF THIS ASK

Warnings: Smut - sex tape, riding, missionary, all 4s, cream pie, oral (both receiving)

You slammed the door to Rafe's fraternity house, your heart racing with a mixture of anger and humiliation. You had just discovered your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, was cheating on you by the girl he was seeing sending you all the texts and photos between them. Your world was spinning, and you didn't know how to process the betrayal.

As you stormed through the hallways, you spotted Rafe lounging in the common room with his fraternity brothers. Your eyes locked onto his, and you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence. Rafe's laid-back demeanor and easy smile were a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside you.

You approached Rafe, your voice trembling with emotion. "Rafe, I need your help," you blurted out, your eyes welling up with tears. You grab him and pull him up to his room.

"My boyfriend’s been cheating on me." Rafe's expression turned sympathetic as he listened to your story. He reached out to brush your arm. You’ve both been great friends since starting school, he couldn't help but find you beautiful. Unknown to him, you had always found Rafe irresistible, but neither had the courage to act on your desires. You had your boyfriend from back home and normally he wouldn't care, but something about you, he wouldn't want to put you in that position.

"I want to teach him a lesson," you seethed, your anger surging to the surface, your words snap Rafe out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Rafe looks at you sideways.

"We’re gonna make a sex tape and send it to him. It'll show him what he's missing out on." Rafe's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes.

"Alright," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I'm in. But let's make it worth our while. We'll create a masterpiece, something that'll make him regret ever crossing you."

You smile big and let him know you'll be back later tonight. Rafe follows you down stairs as you leave and tell his brothers they have to get out for the night. Perks of being President, they don't need a reason. As you walk back to your apartment, you’re excited for the night. Not just for the thrilling revenge that's about to take place, but for who’s helping you. You never admitted to anyone how bad you wanted him. You felt obligated to stay with your ex since he was your first boyfriend and you were together since you were 14, and now you feel like an idiot for the loyalty.

You arrived back at the frat house in sweatpants and a hoodie. Together, you hatched a plan to create the ultimate revenge sex tape. Rafe never went into details about what he wanted to do, he only let you know that you could trust him to make it good. You stepped into his bathroom and came out in nothing but black lingerie. His jaw dropped at the sight of you. You stepped over to him picking up his jaw for him. He instinctively placed his hands on your waist rubbing them up and down but you stop him.

“The camera…”

“Right.” He chuckles standing up, moving one of his nightstand at the edge of the bed and standing the phone up. He takes off his shirt and stands in between your legs looking down at you as you are propped up on your elbows.

As you sat up, you couldn't help but admire Rafe's chiseled abs and the way his muscles rippled with every movement. You ran your fingernails down them and until you reached his pants. You unfastened his belt, the sound of the buckle releasing echoing through the room. Rafe's eyes locked onto yours as you continued to undress him.

You slid your hands inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. Rafe's breath hitched as you gently guided his pants down his legs, exposing his erect cock to your eager eyes. He was huge. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as you reached out to wrap your fingers around his girth.

Rafe's hands moved to your hair, pulling it into a ponytail to give the camera a better view. His fingers threading through the strands as he gently pulled you closer. You felt your lips brush against the tip of his shaft, the salty tang of pre-cum teasing your taste buds. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment as you took him into your mouth.

Rafe's hands tightened in your hair, his hips bucking gently as you moved up and down his length. You felt his pre-cum coat your tongue, the salty taste of him mingling with your saliva. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of his hardness filling your mouth.

You explored every inch of him, your tongue darting out to caress the sensitive skin beneath the head of his penis. Rafe's moans grew louder, his breathing ragged as he struggled to contain his pleasure. You felt his hands tighten in your hair once more, guiding you as you continued to pleasure him.

The camera continued to roll, capturing every moment of your intimate encounter. You had already forgotten about the camera 2 minutes in. You and Rafe were lost in the moment, your desires colliding in a fiery explosion of lust and retribution

As you continued to suck and lick, you felt Rafe's body tense, his hips bucking harder against your mouth. You could feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling within him like a spring ready to snap.

And then, it happened. Rafe's body shuddered, his orgasm ripping through him as he spilled his release into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him as he continued to pulse against your tongue.

When he finally stilled, you released him from your mouth, your lips glistening with his essence. Rafe's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with desire as he pulled you close, his lips crushing down on yours in a passionate kiss. But the night was far from over.

As you lay down on the bed, Rafe's eyes were dark and full of hunger. He moved to kneel between your legs, pulling your panties down and off, his hands gently moving your thighs over his shoulders. You felt your legs spread wide, your pussy exposed and vulnerable to his gaze.

Rafe's hands moved to your inner thighs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin with gentle caresses. You felt your breath catch in your throat as he leaned in, his hot breath warming your most intimate areas.

His tongue darted out, licking a slow, languid path along your inner lips. You felt your body shiver, your muscles tensing in anticipation of his next move. Rafe's fingers tightened around your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to explore your folds with his tongue.

He licked and sucked, his mouth moving in perfect rhythm with your body's natural responses. You felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling within you like a spring ready to snap. Rafe's hands moved, his fingers probing your entrance, covering them in your slick, preparing you for his next move.

As his fingers slipped inside you, you felt your body clench around them, your muscles spasming in delight. Rafe's tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, driving you closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.

And then, it happened. Rafe's mouth moved in perfect synchrony with his fingers, his tongue still probing your clit as his fingers pushed deeper into your pussy hitting the right spot. You felt your orgasm crash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your release.

Rafe removed his fingers and his hands tightened around your thighs, holding you in place as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. You felt his warm breath on your cunt, his tongue still hitting your most sensitive areas. You lay there, your body still trembling with pleasure, as Rafe slowly backed away and licked his lips.

You were heaving trying to catch your breath. Rafe stood up to completely take off his pants and you sat up and unhooked your bra, letting it fall from your chest. His eyes widen at the sight of you.

You pulled Rafe on top of you and smashed your lips into his. His mouth moved down to your neck and then your chest. He played with one of your nipples between his fingers as his mouth enveloped the other. He shifted himself to line up with your entrance, he was much bigger than your boyfriend, the only other person you were with so it made you a bit nervous. He knew it too, he could tell from the look in your eyes.

“I’ll go slow, since it’s something you're clearly not used to.” Rafe says loud enough to make sure the camera picked it up. You giggle and throw your hands around his neck.

As Rafe slowly inched inside you, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your sex was sopping wet, making it easy for him to slide in effortlessly. But despite the ease of entry, the stretch was still unbelievable, your body adjusting to his girth with a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

Your jaw dropped open, and you let out a loud moan as Rafe bottomed out. He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. When you nodded, he began to move, thrusting in and out of you in slow, deliberate strokes.

You felt your eyes roll back in your head as Rafe built up a rhythm, his hips moving in perfect synchronization with your body. Your legs wrapped around him, holding him close as you surrendered to the sensation of his cock filling you.

As the pleasure built, you cried out, "Harder!" Rafe didn't hesitate, his pace quickening as he pumped in and out of you relentlessly. You felt your body begin to shake, your orgasm building like a tidal wave.

Your nails dug into Rafe's back, your legs tightening around him as you rode the wave of pleasure .He pulled up one of your legs to your chest, and laid it over his shoulder. The new angle intensified every thrust of his. Rafe's eyes locked onto yours as he thrust deeper, harder, and faster.

“Who else could fuck you this good?” Rafe smirks taunting you.

“Fuck! No one baby, only you.” You were both playing it up for the camera but neither of you were lying.

Your second orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. Rafe's face contorted in pleasure, his cock throbbing inside you as he found his own release.

“Don’t get tired yet,” Rafe kisses down your stomach before yanking you up at the waist and flipping you onto your stomach. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you up from the bed. You felt your legs bend, your knees sinking into the mattress as you arched your back, presenting your pussy to him.

He positioned himself behind you, his cock pressing against your entrance. You felt him probe your hole, the tip of his cock teasing your inner lips before he finally thrust inside you.

You moaned, your body adjusting to his girth as he began to move. Rafe's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pumped in and out of you with increasing intensity.

You felt your orgasm building again, the pleasure mounting with each thrust. Rafe's hands tightened around your hips, his grip firm as he drove into you, his cock filling you to the brink.

Your legs began to tremble, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. Rafe's cock throbbed inside you, his orgasm imminent as he continued to pump in and out of you. Before the two of you could finish an idea came to mind.

“Let go,” you turn your head to look at Rafe. He looks confused but obliges, you crawl over to your phone picking it up and handing it to him.

“Now, lay down and point the camera at me.” Rafe smirks as he props himself up on some pillows at the tops of his bed and flips the camera towards you.

You straddle his waist and pump his cock a few times before lifting up and sinking down onto him. You gasp at the sensation, he was huge and this angle hurt a bit more but you weren't going to stop now. You finally feel ok to begin bouncing on him.

You move up and down fast, Rafe focuses the camera into where the two of you meet, letting it pick up all the wet sounds your making, before pulling back up to get the whole view. As you continue to bounce up and down on Rafe's cock, he groans, "Fuck, you feel so good. I'm not going to last much longer."

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Don't hold back, babe. Give me everything."

Your legs begin to burn so you switch to grind on him. You move so fast you’d get rug burn against his skin if it were possible.

You moan, feeling the tension building inside you. "Rafe, fuck, I'm close.

As you continue to grind on Rafe, the camera captures the intimate moment. Your bodies move in sync, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Rafe's thumb deftly rubs your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. The camera lens captures the sweat glistening on your skin, the strained expressions on your face, and the raw passion that fills the room.

"Come for me, baby. Let go and come for me." Rafe grits through his teeth.

Rafe's breathing becomes ragged, his hips bucking up to meet your motion. The camera shakes slightly as he adjusts his position, never taking his eyes off you. Your climax begins to build, the intensity growing with each passing second. The camera captures the moment your eyes roll back, your lips part, and your body tenses in anticipation of the orgasm that's about to consume you.

As you reach the peak, your body trembles above him, and the camera captures the ecstasy written all over your face. Rafe's grunt of pleasure is music to your ears as he finds his own release, pumping it right into you. The camera's focus wavers, but Rafe quickly steadies it, determined to capture every moment of this intense encounter.

Together, you ride the waves of pleasure, the camera rolling on as you share this moment of passion. When the last shudders have subsided, you collapse onto Rafe's chest, the camera still recording. The two of you lie there, catching your breath, as the camera captures the aftermath of your lovemaking. However, there’s nothing to be seen, it only picks up your heavy breaths.

After a few moments of trying to catch your breaths, you sit back up and move Rafe’s arm to angle the camera where you are connected. The camera captures the mixed up cream dripping from your hole onto his cock. Rafe's eyes widen in surprise, and he lets out a low whistle. "Damn, baby.”

You grab your phone and end the video. When you collapse next to Rafe, he pulls you in and watches you open your messages and send the file to your ex-boyfriend. A “You won't be missed. X.” message follows the video. You put your phone down and move into Rafe’s embrace.

“I’ve been wanting that for a long time. I don't even care how it had to happen.” Rafe smiles at you and you agree with him.

As you filmed, your passion burned hotter with every passing moment. The camera captured your raw desire, your bodies entwined in a frenzy of lust and retribution. But the feeling between the two of you made it so much better.

When you finally finished, your ex would receive a harsh reminder of what he had lost. But as you reveled in your victory, you couldn't anticipate the repercussions your actions would unleash. Little did you know, your revenge would have far-reaching consequences that would change your life forever. But for now, you basked in the glow of your triumph, savoring the sweet taste of vengeance, and what you have to come with Rafe, knowing he’ll be by your side for it.

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#rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #frat!rafe x reader #frat rafe #frat!rafe #rafe sex tape #outer banks

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daddyd0nt · 3 days ago

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I can be patient with an afab person who doesn’t realize she’s complicit in their own oppression I have no patience or civility for Amab people who want me to accept a less safe world to spare their feelings and validate them. I never said the BIGGEST threat to afab people was trans women but that does not mean they don’t still pose a threat. There is no way to tell for sure who is a “good one” and who is a predator and like I said the safety of even one single woman on the planet earth is not worth risking to spare Amab feelings or be “fair”. Patriarchy isn’t fair. The fact that I can get pregnant from rape and an Amab person couldn’t isn’t fair. The fact that no matter how I present I won’t be safe but an Amab person couldn’t isn’t always take off the dress and cut their hair and regain their full Amab privilege if things get too scary/hard isn’t fair. I’m not obligated to be fair, I’m trying to be SAFE. Sad Amab people even devistated Amab people is a small price to pay for afab physical safety. True biological sex is 100% real, GENDER is fake/made up/a construct.

My anger and fear is not misdirected, all Amab people are privileged and all afab people are oppressed under patriarchy regardless of how you identify. You might not be more privileged than cis AMABs but you still have privilege over afab people. Our movements can even work together on 99% of issues but I will not be spoken over by an oppressor trying to infiltrate afab safe spaces. Birth sex privilege is immutable the fact that you experience oppression for not being cis does not mean you face the same oppression AFABs of any gender face.

Make. Your. Own. Spaces. Afab people had to fight for ours drop the entitlement and do a single step of your own fucking legwork. Also SA statistics across the board show Amab people of any gender commit 96% of sex crimes. Also the statistic for violence against Amab trans people shows when dissected that almost all trans women killed are killed by cis men and most of them are full service sex workers of color, white non-FSSW actually have a significantly lower rate of attack than cis women with the same qualifiers.

Womanhood is not for Amab people who “failed out of” manhood that’s disgusting to say and shows you think of afab people as inferior. Women are not failed men. And what you described is still literally male socialization afab people aren’t privileged to get to cry or do girly things we are allowed to do those things because they are considered degrading/training for subservience and afab people are considered weak by default. Also boo hoo you got called some names I was raped for the first time before I was out of diapers and grew up being called a “fat dyke” for not fitting into patriarchal femininity again the hardship u faced for not being cis is not worse than what afab people face for being afab let alone if you are non-cis on top of it.

Are you delusional about how bottom surgery works? A trans man can’t impregnate me. Putting birth sex markers on ID would be a perfectly easy solution.

Trans women are a risk to AFABs in afab prisons. I don’t care what happens to them in Amab prisons, a single afab person put at risk to protect an Amab one is patriarchal and unacceptable. If you don’t like how ur treated in Amab prisons once again demand for and fight for your own spaces like afab people did. The source on the sex crimes statistic was a 2018 MOJ study showing half of trans Amab prisoners had committed one or more sex crimes. Studies behind The Equality Act of 2010 came to the same conclusion.

Ellen is a narcissistic oligarch with ties to human trafficking so of course no right minded political activist wanted to back her but this literally isn’t about gay women, gay AFABs pose no statistical threat to other AFABs in these spaces? But yeah like I said all these spaces started integrated and had to be made separate because of the high rates at which Amab people sexually abused afab ones. I’m not talking about capitalism or the rich or the PIC I’m talking specifically about patriarchy that is the axis this conversation is about idgaf what other privileges you don’t have and if being told you don’t belong in a space you don’t belong in causes you to manipulatively threaten suicide you need to be in a hospital until you sort that out and can cope with a world that isn’t specifically catered to your validation at any cost to more marginalized people.

IDGAF who is “at bat” for feminism supporting a movement does not mean entitlement you to the resources of that movement that would be like me complaining that the NAACP doesn’t cater to me and should because I’m anti-racist. Once again your problem is entitlement. Idgaf about “outnumbering” you literally should not be extracting a single resource from the feminist movement to serve Amab people. If you actually support feminism you will continue to support it despite this.

Gender oppression does exist as an extension of the intersection of patriarchy and homophobia.

“You are like the white people who harassed Ruby Bridges or the cops at stonewall” could you be any more self important or obsessed with making yourself the victim? You are not Ruby Bridges for telling afab people we should sacrifice our physical safety to indulge your feelings/identity expression. You are a whole-ass entire AMAB oppressor throwing a tantrum about Afab people prioritizing our physical safety over your emotions. You are not the ally you think you are.

"OP is a terf" is a thought-terminating cliche meant to keep you from questioning the status quo and keep you afraid of being labeled a heretic should you come to your own conclusions about anything.

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freakyformula · 1 day ago

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pleaseeeee the honeymooners with lewis were soooo good 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 you wrote him beautifully 😩😩😩 write more for him please im begging you

Since you asked very nicely, I will oblige <333

Saviour

Summary: You were supposed to walk home when you ran into a group of men. When Lewis sees what they do to you he can't let it slip.

A/N: Part two, anyone?

Warnings: Sexual assault, fluff, Lewis being a sweetheart (is that even a warning?!)

Word count:

Now, where do I start?

I was on my way home from a friend's house late one night, it must have been past midnight, me and my friend had a lot to catch up on and time slipped through our fingers. The night was uncommonly calm for a Saturday night in Monaco. I was slightly drunk, me and my friend had a couple of glasses of wine earlier, but I was still able to find my way home, or so I thought.

As I slowly walk along the streets of Monte Carlo, running into a few tourists here and there, them being way more intoxicated than me, at least they acted like it, smashing bottles into the sidewalk and talking loudly, I come to a stop at a red light.

I look around, there's not a single soul in sight. The only thing I hear is the familiar clicking sound of the traffic light. The air was chilly, I certainly wasn't dressed for the night with my short dress and blazer.

I click my high heels as I wait for what feels like forever for the light to change. I look around, but there's not a car in sight, what the hell am I waiting for?

As the light changed to green, thank fuck; I was freezing, I start walking along a small street filled with small artisan ice cream shops, cafées, and vendors. This street was usually filled with people, drinking their sangrias, mingling, and laughing, but now, I was the only one walking along it.

I can almost see my apartment building when I hear a whistle behind me, making me freeze in my tracks. I slowly turn around, only to see three of the drunk men I'd run into before.

"Where do you think you're going, loca?" One of the Spaniards asks. "We don't bite, you know." Another one chips in.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I'd really want to get home now." I try to argue but to no avail. The men walk behind me, catching up quicker than I can react. I would run, but my high heels won't let me, and the wine certainly doesn't help either. "Stop, we just want to talk to you!" The third man yells.

When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I turn to see the three men looking over me with hungry eyes. They're conversing in what I only can assume is Spanish. They smell like alcohol and tobacco, all of them standing almost slumped over on each other. I was sure I could outrun all of them if I wanted to, do I take the chance before this situation escalates? My body fails me, and I can't move an inch.

The grip on my shoulder tightens, and one of the men, the one in the middle, grasps my hand. "Don't worry, we will take care of you..." He whispers as the man to my left moves behind me, sandwiching me between him and the man holding my hand while the third man seems to keep watch for any witnesses to their actions. Their hands wander, and I'm ready to barf on them all. I'm revolted.

I go berserk when their hands land on my breasts. I scream, I kick, I do everything in my power to get out of their creeping hands.

"Shut up!" The men try to shush me and the one in front of me places his disgusting hand over my mouth with an annoyed expression on his face. "Naughty girl." He whispers. "And naughty girls deserve to be punished."

And with that; a blow to the side of my face, and I'm on the ground, gasping for air. The pain rapidly spreads to my head, and my hand flies up to protect it from any more damage. The iron taste in my mouth makes me cringe, and I look up at my assailants.

The men, chuckling and talking in their mother tongue, lean over me. "Come on, it wasn't that bad." One of them laughs, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto my knees.

I'm dizzy, and it feels like I'm going to be sick any second. Together, the men get me onto my feet. "Now, where were we?" One of the men whispers next to my ear, lips brushing against my neck. I feel disgust bubbling in my stomach.

"What do you say, she's got a nice ass huh?" The men discuss my body as if I'm not there. When I feel a slap on my buttock, I flinch, but I don't have the strength to fight their touches. I shut my eyes and disappeared somewhere else, somewhere far away. I feel one of them slipping his hand under my dress, but I'm frozen. I can't move, talk, or fight. I just let it happen. When the men pull my dress off, my hands fly up to cover myself.

"What the fuck is going on?!" I hear a distant voice yell, followed by barking.

Then, everything stops. No lingering touches, no whispers in my ear, nothing.

I couldn't believe it. I'm suddenly ten times lighter. Am I in heaven? I thought to myself.

"Hey hey, it's okay. You're safe." I heard someone say, it sounded like they were miles away, but I could feel their touch on your arm.

That voice. Surely I've ascended to heaven, but I didn't dare to have a peek.

"Are you okay, miss? Do you need an ambulance?" The voice asks.

I collapse on the hard stone pavement when I realise that the voice isn't one of the men. I felt the voice grabbing me violently as I was about to hit my head on the ground.

My head is slumped and my eyes are shut, still in that lovely place in my head that I adore so much. "Gosh, you're trembling!" The voice exclaims, and I feel something hot and heavy on my shoulders, something that feels like a coat.

"Please, talk to me." The voice asks of me while I feel his hands on my arms, rubbing them to keep me warm. The voice is soothing and angelic.

I feel myself coming back, my imaginary world slipping away from me no matter how hard I try to grasp it. When I feel someone licking my face, I'm abruptly thrown back into the real world. The owner of the tongue is small and certainly has a very large and wet tongue. The sensation makes me chuckle, I must say, and I dare to open my eyes just enough to see the bulldog in front of me.

"Okay, Roscoe, that's enough." The kind man says as he tries to hold the dog off my face.

"They..." I start, still in shock, sitting with my arms crossed in hopes of protecting myself.

"I saw what they did, you don't need to tell me." The stranger says.

I reach out for the dog, which happily accepts my scratches. When I look up, I see him sitting on his knees before me. Never in my life had I seen a man that gorgeous. I'm stuck in his eyes as he chuckles. "Can you stand up? You'll get sick sitting on the ground like this. Here is your dress if you want to put it on." The man reaches for the tossed dress and waits for me to grab it. He offers his hand to help me on my feet again.

I hesitated to accept his hand, but eventually, I reached for him and pulled myself up. My legs are wobbly and I almost fall over again, but the man holds me up with his strong arms. "Shhh, you okay?" He whispers.

"Y-yeah." You reply.

"I'm Lewis, and you are?" He offers me a handshake.

"I'm Y/N." I say as I grab his hand. His handshake was powerful, and his larger hand swallowed my hand.

"I-I'm sorry, for this." I quickly follow up.

Lewis stops in his tracks and locks his eyes with mine. "Y/N, none of this is your fault. You know that right?"

"I know but-"

"No... No but's."

I shut my mouth upon hearing that and Lewis looks down at me with warmth.

"Come here, I'll carry you." Lewis says as he picks me up and starts walking with Roscoe in close tow. His musky cologne made my heart flutter, and the sensation made me blush which he surely noticed. His arms felt like home, for lack of a better word, and his smile made my heart skip a beat.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"You'll see." Lewis quickly answers.

I lift my eyebrow, and he notices, followed by a sigh.

"Don't worry, we're going to my place. It's not far, I promise."

The thought of going to a stranger's place seemed stupid, but in my defence, I hit my head and blamed my lack of judgment on that.

As he carries me through the streets of Monaco, and we get to know each other, he smiles at me when we get to the topic of how we ended up in Monaco, of all places.

"Fate, really. I wasn't supposed to move here, but I was offered a job and took it without thinking it through." I explain.

Lewis is left silent and slows down as he processes my words.

"So... Now you're unhappy?" He asks.

"No. Not at all, I love it here, mostly anyway." I admit, and I give my head a rub, feeling a slight bump forming where I hit my head.

Lewis notices my change in mood, and stops. "You okay?" He asks, worry evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I think I hit my head harder than I first thought."

Lewis nods and speeds up his steps. "Let's get you something cold to put on that."

As we walk past one of the fancier apartment blocks, I audibly gasp at the cars parked outside. Lamborghini, Ferrari, Audi, Mercedes. "Why are we here?" I ask.

"Because this is where I live, Y/N."

What? This, is where he lived? I had so many questions. "Okay, Lewis, timeout! Let me down, please!" He does as I ask, the gentleman, despite his protests.

"Who are you?" I ask, expecting an honest answer.

"I'm Lewis Hamilton."

"Nice to meet you, Lewis Hamilton. Why do you bring me here?"

"This is where I live?" He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the universe.

"Okay... So, are you part of the mafia or something?" I chuckle, half joking.

Lewis lets out a laugh, and looks down at my smaller figure, "No, Y/N, I drive."

"Like taxis and stuff?" I ask, still not catching on.

Lewis blinks at me and continues. "No, I drive in Formula 1."

Now, I hadn't heard of his name before, but I definitely knew of Formula 1. Me and my family used to watch it when I was young. You know, the Schumacher vs Häkkinen era. I can feel my eyes becoming bigger and bigger as his words penetrate my mind.

"Formula 1?" I ask, needing confirmation.

"Formula 1." He nods.

"What the fuck, Lewis!" I can't help my heightened tone. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Lewis's eyes are still glued on me; worry painted on his face, but still calm as a cucumber with his hand out in case I faint.

"Hello Florian, beautiful evening, is it not?" Lewis says to the doorman, as the man holds the door for us as we step inside the grand hall. I stop, just to take everything in, the marble floors, the handpainted paintings on the walls, and the huge crystal chandeliers.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs." Lewis says as he softly grabs my hand and leads me to the elevator. While we wait for it to come down, I bend down to scratch Roscoe, which he seems happy with as he leans into my touch. "He likes you." Lewis concludes and smiles at me as I look up at him. "He tends to be wary of strangers."

I hear a "ding" and the elevator doors open. Lewis leads me in with Roscoe following my footsteps, licking my bare leg as if he wants to comfort me.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yes." I say, dragging out the "s". I smile at him to look more convincing, but in reality, it felt like I had been run over. I'm sure I looked a mess too, hence why he asked.

"Here we are." Lewis says and offers me his hand to take me to his entryway.

"I can walk just fine, you know that right?" I giggle.

"I don't take any risks." Lewis simply replies.

His keys clink as he pulls them out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

"Go ahead." He says as he ushers me into the hallway.

The smell of his apartment was expensive. I felt like I couldn't touch anything, as if I would contaminate the grandness of his space if I did. So I just stood there, like a proper fool.

"Please..." He chuckles. "Would you like something to drink? Perhaps some juice?"

I'm left in the hallway as Roscoe lazily walks in, and turns around to look at us. Lewis takes a few steps towards the kitchen and lends me his hand. "You're allowed to move, Y/N."

"I know, but..." I could feel myself blushing again. I felt so misplaced.

"Come on." He cheers me on, with a wide smile.

One step, two steps... My goal was his hand. After four steps, my hand landed in his, and he interlocked his fingers with mine.

I hadn't felt it before, surely because of the adrenaline, but now my body felt numb, and fatigue was quickly taking over.

When we make it out of the hallway, and into the main living room, that is connected to the kitchen, I can't help but gasp.

The room was spacious, and light. It seemed like the room was lit up even though it was in the middle of the night.

You weren't exactly surprised that a Formula 1 driver owned a penthouse, but in one of the fanciest districts in Monaco? This guy had to be really good.

"Lewis, which floor are we on?" I ask.

"We're on the top." He answers while he has his head in the fridge, looking for something for me to drink.

Sneaking forward on my tiptoes, I walk up to the huge window. "The view... Is phenomenal." I whisper to myself.

"Isn't it?" Lewis says, walking up from behind, with a glass of sparkling water in hand, making me smile and accepting the drink.

I take a sip and the water has a subtle taste of lemon. Refreshing. Lewis seems to take notice of how much I enjoy my drink and offers a refill.

As we stood at the window, looking over the Mediterranean sea, my eyes landed on something to our left. "Don't tell me you have a pool too?" I ask, feeling overwhelmed by how luxuriously this man lived.

"Of course." Lewis admits as he opens the doors to his terrace. "Come." He walks out, and the crisp air hits my skin as I walk out with him. I felt the cold cement against my sole when we walked further out towards the railing. There was a slight wind up here, but it wasn't chilly enough to make me cold, not with Lewis next to me.

As we are admiring the view, Roscoe walks out too, letting out a bark, demanding attention. Not from Lewis, but from me.

"Roscoe really likes you." Lewis says, rather flabbergasted, as he walks off. I follow his movements at the same time as I cuddle with Roscoe. His footsteps stop at the edge of the pool, and he turns around to face me, giving me a mischievous look, and jumps in with a loud "Woohoo!"

I slightly panic, thinking what the hell the man is up to, and Roscoe follows me to the edge, looking for him. The water was dark, and I couldn't see Lewis anywhere.

I bend over to see better and before I even get the chance to react, Lewis' hand is around mine, pulling me in with him. Roscoe is left at the edge, barking for us to come up to the surface again.

When I make it up above the water and gasp for air, Lewis laughs. "Sorry, I had to!" He says, holding his hands up in defeat.

I splash him with my hands, "I'm gonna kill you!" I giggle, before getting up. "You could've warned me, given me a chance to pull my dress off."

"There's no fun in that!" He says, him too climbing up.

We're both soaked and laughing at each other.

"How did we just meet? Feels like I've known you for longer than an hour." He asks.

His words silence me, not quite knowing what to answer. It was true, Lewis was fun, kind, and caring to me, and it felt like I had always known him.

"I-I don't know. Thank you, for saving me. I never thanked you."

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. Now, I'm sure you're tired..." He says as he walks up to me, grabbing my hand. "Would you like to spend the night?"

I was confused, what did his words mean, exactly? "What do you mean?"

"Oh... I didn't mean it like that. You can sleep in my bed and I'll take the sofa." He quickly chips in.

"Oh! Yeah, okay." I nod, sleeping over seemed like a good idea? Right?

"Let's get you something dry to wear, come on." Lewis says as he rubs your arms.

Your clothes are soaked and heavy when you walk up to his bedroom, and Lewis opens his walk in closet, inviting me inside too. "Tee and sweatpants? How does that sound to you?"

"Sounds perfect." I smile at him and look down when our gazes meet. When he hands over the outfit he put together, I look up at him, not sure of what to say. "Lewis... This is Gucci."

"Exactly." He says as he closes the closet doors, and that was the end of that discussion.

Lewis is left standing there, not quite sure of what to say or do next. "Would you like to take a shower, or?" He asks.

"I would like that." I admit, and with that, Lewis escorts me to his personal bathroom. "I-I'll leave you to it, feel free to come down if you need something."

I nod, and watch as Lewis leaves the bathroom and closes the door. The warm water hitting my body felt like heaven in contrast to the chilly water outside. I could really do with a warm hug right now, I think.

When I'm clean, thanks to his body scrubs and schampoos, I dress into his clothes, and hop into his bed. The sheets smell of him. I take an extra whiff before I get up again. As I walk down the stairs, I see Lewis lying on the sofa, cuddled up next to Roscoe.

"Lewis?" I whimper.

My call makes him instantly open his eyes and jump up from the sofa. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing, nothing... I just-" I start, not getting another word out before tears flood my eyes. "Oh, Y/N..." He whispers, and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. We stay like that for, I don't know, 5 minutes? Him just holding me as I sob my heart out.

When we part, Lewis leads me to the sofa to sit down. "Talk to me, Y/N."

I couldn't find the words. No matter how hard I tried.

"I..." I started. "I was thinking of how badly things could have gone if you didn't save me." I look at him with an appreciative look.

"I know, trust me, I know. But things went well, and I'm here now. You're safe." He whispers in my ear. I close my eyes as he pulls me in again, and I end up essentially lying on top of him on his sofa.

When I open my eyes, I'm confused about waking up in a bed instead of a sofa. And there was no Lewis either, or Roscoe, for that matter.

I walk down the stairs, and as the Monaco sun hits my eyes, I see Lewis in the kitchen, at the stove. "Good morning, Y/N. Sleep well?" He asks as he turns a vegan pancake in the pan.

"Morning." I say as I walk up to him, stretching my body. "Slept like a baby."

"Good. Breakfast?" He asks with a grin and a wink.

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huneyrain · 1 day ago

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COCO!!!!!!!! 💛💛💛 THANK YOU FOR THE TAG!!! also yes you can tag this blog for tag games!!! i love when you tag me in these it makes me so happy, giggling kicking my feet even

ANYWAYS hiiii!! im rain <3

how do you spend your free time? ::

writing, playing video games, watching video essays, drawing, and maybe reading if i have a book im currently hooked on! when it comes to video games i play a lot of roguelikes & cozy games, also anything nintendo

what are your hobbies and how did you get into them? ::

art, writing, gaming, caring for succulents / plants, and sometimes bracelet-making! i got into art back when i was in elementary, it's just always something ive loved and as i got older i started dabbling in digital art, i still thoroughly enjoy art and it's always going to be a big part of me!! for writing... i was always someone who wrote very detailed, i often got points off or notes from teachers as a young kid because i wrote "too much" 💔💔 in middle school i started writing fanfic in my spare time and i just fell in love with writing; even writing papers, non-fiction, narratives, fanfic, i love it all, it's what i want to do with my life! gaming is just gaming, i just love it LOL, and then for my succulents, I started taking care of plants on my 18th birthday and now it motivates me to take on the day!! plus i wanna see them grow!! and bracelet-making, i like silly accessories and the way they jingle

what book or movie left a lasting impression on you? ::

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON!!! that series has shaped my LIFE. i have a deep love for dragons and the fantastical, i bonded with my boyfriend because of our mutual love for HTTYD, its just such a big part of me... i remember me, him, and all my friends went to see HTTYD3 in highschool when it released and we SOBBED. i love that franchise to DEATH. (also my bf now runs a project to create a HTTYD mod & map in minecraft!! it's REALLY cool and looks beautiful so far)

what kind of music do you enjoy? ::

VOCALOID, pop, j-pop, musicals, and indie!!! vocaloid is the biggest one for me, im particularly partial to len, miku, kaito, and teto <33 current recommendations would be "MONITORING" by deco*27, and "ROT FOR CLOUT" by jamie paige!!

who is your favorite character and why?? ::

MEGURU BACHIRA... i love his vibes!! he's such a silly, bubbly, happy-go-lucky guy, and i love the energy he has. everything about him is so fun and silly, and also it's a big contrast to his deep inner feelings of loneliness he battles with in S1 and idk i just love him... UGH

VERY honorable mention is my other fav TSUKASA TENMA... also very bubbly and energetic, which came from a sad backstory of wanting to help his sister and feeling powerless!! i seem to love the hyper-energetic but complex vibes in characters

TAGS TAGS TAGS!!! no obligation, and feel free to join even if you aren't tagged!!!

@therealdogsinmymind @underlash @jovei @itsgivingsadd @iimouto-z

tag + q&a game ₊˚ෆ

hello! i thought it would be cute and exciting to do a tag game with all my mutuals to not only talk about themselves, but have fun! so here is my short little game:

alongside this picrew, share 5 things about yourself!

• how do you spend your free time? • what are your hobbies and how did you get into them? • what book or movie left a lasting impression on you? • what kind of music do you enjoy? • who is your favorite character (atm or all time) and why?

i will start first!

my name is rurumi and i enjoy spending my free time writing!

some of my hobbies (outside of writing) includes: drawing, building gundams and keyboards, and fashion! i got into most of them on a whim and became instantly hooked. aside from self-expression, being into fashion also helps with making friends in college because you always have something to talk about!

a book that left a lasting impression on me would have to be either kafka on the shore by haruki murakami or before the coffee gets cold by toshikazu kawaguchi. both stories have kept me up at night thinking a lot about the 'what ifs' in life.

i enjoy soul/r&b alongside anything of jrock influence, but i will basically listen to anything that sounds good. i am currently listening to 'so what' by lucy!

my favorite character at the moment is rin itoshi from blue lock because hes so ridiculously edgy, but at the same time i sympathize with him a lot. on the other hand, my favorite character of all time is suletta mecury from the witch from mercury series, she's an absolute ball of sunshine that i aspire to be.

tagging (+ no pressure) ₊˚ෆ

@kaiser1ns @naenaex0xx @shomatoriashi @choccorin @ryescapades

@rindreamery @soleillunne @kissxcore @rainswept @mitsvriii

#rain yaps about things #my mutuals <3 #moots: coco 💛#rain does tag games

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rafeskai · 2 days ago

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Starstruck | Drew Starkey

Chapter Two

Summary: In the bustling crowd of a premiere event for Outer Banks, you find yourself caught up in a chaotic moment, lost in the sea of fans. Desperate for a way out, you stumble into an alley where fate leads you to an unexpected—and painful—encounter with Drew Starkey. What starts as a simple misstep soon spirals into something far more complicated, and your life takes an unexpected turn.

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: A little fluff before the storm 👀

Masterlist Here

The city lights of Los Angeles seemed brighter than ever as you stood under them, your heart still racing from your unexpected encounter with Drew Starkey. Sitting in that backstage hallway felt like a fever dream—Drew, of all people, asking to make amends over a drink after accidentally hitting you with a door? The surrealism of it all lingered in your chest even as the noise of the premiere filtered faintly through the walls.

After a few minutes, Drew checked his phone and sighed. "Looks like I’m needed back out there soon," he said, glancing at you with a mix of regret and obligation. "But seriously, are you okay? I mean, if you’re not, we can get a medic or something."

You waved him off, feeling a little embarrassed by all the concern. “I’m fine, really. Just a bump and some bruised pride. I’ll survive.”

His lopsided grin made your pulse quicken. "Alright. But, uh..." He scratched the back of his neck, hesitating. “I wasn’t kidding about the drink. Give me your phone?”

Your eyebrows shot up, but you handed it over before you could second-guess yourself. He quickly typed in a number and handed it back to you, his name already saved in your contacts.

"Text me if you change your mind about the drink—or if you wake up tomorrow with a door phobia," he teased, his eyes sparkling.

You laughed, still trying to process how casually Drew fucking Starkey had just given you his number. "I’ll keep that in mind.”

He stood, offering you his hand to help you up. His grip was warm, firm, and grounding—almost enough to make you forget the chaos of the evening.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, giving you one last look before slipping back into the madness of the premiere. You stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where he’d disappeared, the echo of his voice lingering in your mind.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

By the time you found Ava, she was surrounded by a group of people, her face glowing as she scrolled through photos on her phone.

“There you are!” she squealed, rushing over and grabbing your arm. “Where have you been? I got selfies with everyone! Oh my God, you should’ve been there!”

You opened your mouth to explain but hesitated. How could you even begin to describe what had just happened? Would she believe you if you told her about your chance meeting with Drew—or would it sound too far-fetched, like some scene out of a cheesy romantic comedy?

“I, uh... got lost for a bit,” you said instead, offering a weak smile. “It’s kind of a madhouse here.”

Ava rolled her eyes, clearly too wrapped up in her own excitement to notice anything off. “Well, you missed out, babe. But don’t worry—we’ll hit another event soon. Now, let’s get out of here before my feet fall off from these heels.”

You nodded, following her toward the car. As you walked, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Curious, you pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: "Hey, it’s Drew. Just checking in—hope your head’s okay. And seriously, no pressure about the drink. Take care!"

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face. The evening had been chaotic, overwhelming, and completely out of your comfort zone—but it had also been unexpectedly thrilling.

As Ava chattered on about the celebrities she’d met, you tucked your phone back into your pocket, a newfound sense of curiosity bubbling inside you. Maybe LA was more than just a city of bright lights and endless possibilities. Maybe it was a place where the unexpected could turn into something extraordinary.

And as you drove back to Ava’s apartment, the glow of the city outside the car windows felt a little warmer, a little more inviting. For the first time, you wondered if this wild, unpredictable place might be exactly where you were meant to be.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through Ava’s apartment window was merciless. Despite the curtains she had haphazardly tacked up, the rays found their way in, casting golden streaks across the room and directly into your eyes. You groaned, turning over on the futon, wishing for just a few more moments of sleep. But the events of last night wouldn’t let you rest.

You’d met Drew Starkey. Not just met him, but had a full-on moment with him. After he’d accidentally hit you with that door, he’d spent the better part of an hour making sure you were okay. You could still hear his voice, a mix of concern and easy charm, apologizing profusely while somehow making you feel less like a klutz and more like someone worth his time.

“Good morning, superstar!” Ava’s voice rang out as she burst into the room, her curls wild and her energy already at full throttle. She carried two mugs of coffee, setting one on the side table near your makeshift bed. “So, are you gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to harass you until you spill?”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, the blanket pooling around your waist. “What do you mean?”

Ava rolled her eyes, plopping down on the edge of the futon. “Don’t play dumb. You disappeared for, like, an hour at the premiere, and then I find you casually chatting with Drew freakin’ Starkey backstage. What gives?”

You sighed, blowing on the coffee before taking a tentative sip. “It’s not what you think. I got hit in the face by a door. He opened the door. We talked. That’s it.”

Ava stared at you, her mouth slightly open, before she burst into laughter. “You got hit in the face by a door? At a premiere? By Drew Starkey? Babe, that’s not ‘just it.’ That’s iconic.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though your cheeks heated at her exaggerated reaction. “It’s not iconic. It’s embarrassing. But he was nice about it. Like, really nice. He even offered to take me out for a drink to make up for it.”

Ava’s eyes widened, and she nearly spilled her coffee. “He what? Are you serious? Did you say yes? Tell me you said yes.”

You hesitated, the memory of Drew’s offer replaying in your mind. “I... sort of said yes. But I think he was just being polite. It’s not like he’ll actually follow through.”

Ava gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Y/N, you cannot let this opportunity slip through your fingers! Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position right now? If he even texts you, you better reply in .02 seconds.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but laugh at her theatrics. “Okay, okay. I get it. But I’m not holding my breath.”

Ava grinned knowingly, her excitement palpable. “Fine. But if you don’t hear from him, we’ll find another way to make your LA experience unforgettable. Speaking of which, are you ready for today’s itinerary?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably,” Ava said with a wink, jumping up and grabbing her phone. “We’re doing a thrift crawl, hitting up a rooftop brunch, and then... maybe a little surprise at the end. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

Despite her cryptic tone, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. Ava had a way of making everything sound like an adventure, and maybe that was exactly what you needed.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The thrift stores were nothing like what you had back home. These weren’t just secondhand shops—they were curated collections of vintage treasures, each one like stepping into a different era. Ava was in her element, flipping through racks of clothing with practiced ease, holding up pieces for your approval.

“This is so you,” she said, holding up a floral sundress that looked like it had been plucked straight from the ’70s. “You need it. Trust me.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know... It’s a little... loud.”

“Loud is good,” Ava said, thrusting the dress into your arms. “You’re in LA now. Time to embrace the bold.”

By the time you left the store, your arms were full of bags, and your wallet was a little lighter, but you couldn’t deny that you felt good. There was something freeing about trying on new styles, stepping outside of your comfort zone. Maybe Ava was right—maybe LA was the perfect place to reinvent yourself.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

As the day wound down, Ava finally revealed her surprise: a small, underground comedy show in a nondescript venue tucked away in a quiet part of town. The intimate setting, with its mismatched chairs and dim lighting, felt worlds away from the glitz and glamour of last night’s premiere, but it was exactly what you needed.

The comedians were hilarious, their jokes cutting through the haze of your lingering nerves and exhaustion. You laughed until your sides hurt, feeling lighter with each passing minute.

By the time you got back to Ava’s apartment, you were exhausted but happy. As you collapsed onto the futon, your phone buzzed on the side table.

You picked it up, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the name on the screen.

Drew: “Hey. How’s your head? I feel like I should check in after last night.”

A smile tugged at your lips, and you quickly typed back a response.

You: “Head’s fine. Ego’s a little bruised, though. Thanks for checking.”

The reply came almost instantly.

Drew: “Glad to hear it. So... about that drink I owe you. Are you free tomorrow night?”

You stared at the screen, rereading Drew’s message. It wasn’t real—this kind of thing didn’t happen in real life, not to someone like you. But there it was, clear as day, blinking back at you. A direct invitation from Drew Starkey.

Ava, who had been in the kitchen rummaging through the fridge, peeked her head into the living room. “Why are you smiling like that? You look like you’ve just been handed a winning lottery ticket.”

You glanced up at her, still clutching your phone. “He messaged me.”

“Who messaged you?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Drew.”

Ava’s jaw dropped, and in a flurry of movement, she dove onto the futon beside you, nearly knocking over your coffee. “Show me. Let me see.” She snatched the phone from your hands before you could protest, her eyes scanning the screen. “Oh my God. Oh. My. God. He’s asking you out for a drink.”

You grabbed the phone back, holding it protectively. “It’s not like that. He just feels bad about the door thing.”

Ava scoffed. “Girl, please. No one texts like that out of guilt. He’s into you. I’m telling you.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you shook your head. “It’s probably nothing. He’s just being nice.”

Ava flopped dramatically onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes. “If you don’t say yes, I’m disowning you as my best friend. This is your moment, Y/N! Seize it!”

You bit your lip, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. You felt torn, excitement battling with apprehension. This was Drew Starkey—he probably had a million people vying for his attention. Why would he be interested in you?

Still, a part of you couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity. Before you could overthink it, you typed out a response.

You: “Tomorrow works. Where should we meet?”

The message sent, and you immediately felt a knot of nerves tighten in your stomach. Ava was practically bouncing beside you, her excitement infectious.

“What if I say something stupid?” you asked, voicing your worries aloud. “Or what if it’s awkward?”

Ava grabbed your shoulders, looking you square in the eyes. “First of all, you’re not going to say anything stupid because you’re amazing, and if he doesn’t see that, then he’s an idiot. Second, awkwardness is part of the charm. Just be yourself.”

You nodded, trying to absorb her confidence. Your phone buzzed again, and both of you leaned in to read the reply.

Drew: “There’s this place called Bar Stella. Low-key, great cocktails. 7 pm?”

Ava squealed. “He’s already planning it out. He’s definitely into you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face. “Okay, okay. But what do I wear?”

Ava grinned, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing. Tomorrow, we’re turning you into a knockout.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next day felt like it dragged on forever. Every hour seemed to stretch into eternity as you counted down the minutes until 7 pm. Ava, true to her word, helped you pick out an outfit—a sleek black jumpsuit that hugged your figure in all the right places, paired with simple gold jewelry and a pair of strappy heels. She even insisted on doing your hair and makeup, transforming you into someone who actually looked like they belonged in LA.

As you stood in front of the mirror, you barely recognized yourself. “What if he doesn’t like it?” you asked, smoothing down the fabric of the jumpsuit.

Ava waved off your concern. “If he doesn’t, he’s blind. You look stunning.”

With a final pep talk from Ava, you grabbed your bag and headed out. The ride to Bar Stella felt surreal, the city lights blurring past as your nerves built. When you arrived, you hesitated outside the door, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.

The bar was exactly as Drew had described—low-key and intimate, with warm lighting and a laid-back atmosphere. You scanned the room, your heart skipping a beat when you spotted him at a corner table. He looked effortlessly cool, dressed in a casual button-down and dark jeans, his hair slightly tousled.

When his eyes met yours, he smiled and stood, waving you over. “Hey, you made it.”

“Hey,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. “Nice choice. This place is great.”

He grinned, gesturing for you to sit. “Figured it’d be better than some loud club. Thought we could actually talk.”

As you sat across from Drew, the candlelight casting warm shadows across the table, the nerves that had gripped you earlier melted away bit by bit. It surprised you how natural it felt, talking to him like this—like he wasn’t some rising star in Hollywood but just a regular guy, charming and down-to-earth.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that made you envious, “you moved to LA recently. What brought you here? Chasing dreams, or are you just a glutton for punishment like the rest of us?”

You laughed, swirling the cocktail in your hand. “A little of both, maybe. I’ve always wanted to see if I could make it here, you know? I just needed to get out of my hometown, take a chance on something bigger.”

Drew nodded, his blue eyes focused entirely on you. “I get that. This city has a way of drawing people in—whether for the right reasons or not.”

“What about you?” you asked. “Was acting always the dream, or did you fall into it by accident?”

He smirked, resting his elbow on the table. “A bit of both. I always loved movies growing up, but I didn’t think acting was something I could actually do. It felt... unattainable. But then I got cast in a play in high school, and I guess I caught the bug. The rest just kind of snowballed from there.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “What was the play?”

He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Oh, it was terrible. Some community theater production of Our Town. I played George. My performance was so bad my parents were convinced I’d never make it past that stage.”

You giggled, picturing a younger, awkward Drew stumbling through lines. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. I mean, look where you are now.”

“Debatable,” he teased, but his expression softened. “Honestly, though, it’s been a crazy ride. Some days I still feel like I’m just waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and tell me it’s all been a mistake.”

You nodded, appreciating his vulnerability. “Imposter syndrome?”

“Big time,” he admitted. “It’s weird, right? You work so hard to get somewhere, and then when you’re there, you wonder if you deserve it.”

“I get that,” you said quietly. “I feel like that all the time, even just being here in LA. Like I don’t quite belong.”

Drew’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the bustling energy of the bar seemed to fade into the background. “I think you belong more than you realize,” he said. “You just have to give yourself some credit.”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. You sipped your drink to cover the reaction, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night went on—favorite movies, embarrassing childhood stories, the best and worst things about growing up in small towns. Drew animatedly described a disastrous family camping trip that ended with a raccoon stealing their food, and you laughed so hard your sides hurt.

“You’re kidding,” you said between giggles. “A raccoon? Like, the actual animal?”

“Swear to God,” Drew said, holding up three fingers in a Scout’s honor gesture. “It just waddled into our campsite like it owned the place, grabbed the bag of marshmallows, and ran off. My dad was so mad, he spent the rest of the trip setting up elaborate ‘traps’ that never worked.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “That’s amazing. My family’s trips were never that eventful. Just a lot of awkward silences and badly cooked hotdogs.”

“Sounds like a rite of passage,” Drew said, grinning. “Maybe we should recreate it sometime. Bring some marshmallows and see what happens.”

The casual suggestion caught you off guard, a flicker of something hopeful stirring in your chest. But before you could dwell on it, he gestured toward the bartender. “Another round?”

“Sure,” you said, realizing you didn’t want the night to end.

As he ordered, you took a moment to look around the bar. The ambiance was cozy and unpretentious, a mix of quiet conversation and soft background music. It was the kind of place you never would have found on your own, and you found yourself silently thanking Drew for suggesting it.

When he returned with the drinks, he slid yours across the table with a playful smile. “So, what’s one thing about you I wouldn’t guess just by looking?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous question.”

“Come on,” he urged, leaning forward. “I’ll even go first. Let’s see... I once auditioned for a role by rapping the entire Fresh Prince theme song. Didn’t get the part, but I nailed the performance.”

Your jaw dropped, and you burst out laughing. “No way. You have to prove it now.”

“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s a one-time deal. The world wasn’t ready for it then, and it’s not ready now.”

“Coward,” you teased, and he laughed, the sound lighting up his whole face.

“All right, your turn,” he said, pointing at you.

You thought for a moment, then grinned. “I can recite every line of The Princess Diaries from memory.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Every line? That’s impressive.”

“And slightly embarrassing,” you admitted. “It was my comfort movie growing up. My parents used to joke that they didn’t need a TV as long as I was around.”

Drew’s smile softened. “I think that’s awesome. Plus, it’s a great movie.”

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, trading stories and jokes until the clock ticked past midnight. You hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten until the bartender subtly dimmed the lights, signaling closing time.

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, Drew turned to you, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” you said, your breath visible in the chill. “Thanks for inviting me out.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. “Would it be okay if I called you sometime? Maybe we can do this again?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded, unable to hide your smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Drew’s smile widened, and he gave a small nod, as if sealing the deal. “Good. Text me when you get home, okay? Just so I know you made it safe.”

“I will,” you promised, and with one last glance, he walked away, his silhouette fading into the city lights.

You stood there for a moment, the events of the night replaying in your mind. As you turned to head home, the smile on your face refused to fade. Maybe, just maybe, LA was starting to feel like home after all.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction #starstruck

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damn-stark · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 31 In that big ol’ room

Chapter 31 of Moonlight

A/N- we’re close to the end :(

Warning- talks of postpartum depression, ANGST, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 535-539

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

The memory of her death, even though it was recent and still a raw one in your mind, can’t stop playing in your head over and over again.

Like a veil it obscures your vision, not letting you take a good look at the newborn babies you just gave birth to, and here's the thing, as bad as it sounds you don’t care to look at them. Even if you cradle them both in your arms you can’t find that joy or relief to look at their red little faces and wait for their eyes to open to tell you who their father might be.

You keep the veil over your face like a badge of honor to remind yourself why you wear it. You don’t want to forget even if it's impossible to do so. Does it make you a terrible mother?

All you wanted to be as a mother was to be the mother yours was to you. You want to nuzzle with all three of your babies now that you’re together. You want to love them and let go of your pain, but…then Daenys begins to cry a shrieking cry and it takes you back to that moment where your mother shrieked before she burnt, and you’re bombarded with frustration.

“Take them,” you demand and turn to the edge of the bed to let a handmaiden take them from your arms so they can shush the shrieking babe.

However, she only cries louder and your frustration starts to torture you by bringing rage along.

You try to shake it off, but as you close your eyes the memory of your mother burning plays vividly so you quickly snap your eyes open and simply sit there ruminating in your anger and frustration, hoping it’ll fade into something you can manage, but alas, that veil only gets thicker to the point you can’t see what’s in front of you. All that exists is your anger and…a desire—no, an obligation to kill Aegon for what he did. It doesn’t matter if they end up killing you in the process.

You don’t care as long as he’s dead too.

He has to die…

Thus in a blinded rage, you swipe the scissors that the handmaidens used to cut the twin’s umbilical cord and then drag yourself off the bed, catching the immediate attention of all the handmaidens.

“Princess what are you doing?! You should not be moving!” Vanessa warns you and rushes to your side to attempt and move you back to bed, but you put your hand up to stop her.

“Leave me,” you snap without meeting her gaze. “I am going to try and call to my dragon,” you lie and push yourself off the bed, causing your bloody and soaked gown to fall over your body, and feeling sharp pains shooting throughout your body, threatening to keep you down, but you just clutch onto your belly and swallow back your pained groan before you start to drag your feet without bothering to put anything on your feet.

You just start walking, making the poor handmaidens' hearts hurt with pity and concern.

“Don’t dare and follow me,” you warn them as you keep the scissors hidden in your sleeve so they won’t stop you.

“But—”

“No,” you cut them off and leave out the door where guards are there to greet you. “If you follow me I won’t need my dragon to kill you. I’ll do it myself,” you warn them bitterly.

However, unlike the handmaidens, they move to trail after you, making you bring yourself to a stop and peer over your shoulder with a glare. “I said. Stay,” you grimace. “Guard the twins. They are more important. What threat can I be anyway?” You try to deceive them, and after a moment of debate, they step back to their previous position, letting you continue to trudge forward.

However, every step you take is a cruel reminder of what you just went through. And with every step you want to stop and take a break, but you keep moving your bare feet and exhausted body forward because what is your pain compared to the pain your mother went through every single second before she was ripped apart?

Nothing…that’s what. Nothing compares to the suffering she went through. It's why you keep moving forward. It’s why you clench your jaw as you grow angrier, and it’s why you clutch onto the scissors you keep hidden. Even though you have no idea where Aegon is, you keep moving—then again is it really hard to find him as he’s bound to that wooden chair?

Not likely. He can only be in so many places. Is it the throne room? The master quarters? Or the meeting room?

You’ll go search in all of them if you have to. Even if you’re writhing in agony you will find him. After all, what does he know of Dragonstone? He’s never called it home like you have. This is your home! Yours! Your mothers, your brothers, your cousins, and your children’s home! Not his! So you will find Aegon.

Aegon.

Aegon…

After a while of stalking through those corridors like a vengeful ghost terrorizing the castle, you finally catch the sound of his voice coming from the meeting room. He’s not alone either, you can hear Ser Alfred and Lord Larys with him too, but it’s okay you can wait and if they don't leave his side then you’ll still ram your scissors through Aegon’s throat.

You wait first though. Just for a while.

“…killing Lord Corlys Velaryon would not be a wise action. Even if Ser Alfred has a point about having Rhaenyra's allies suffer consequences, he still has the greatest fleet and a bastard boy who will never ally with us.”

Aegon hums before he interjects. “Then…we make him bend the knee and ask for forgiveness. He did turn against Rhaenyra when she imprisoned him, besides…his counsel would be welcome.”

The corner of your lips curl to a scowl and your grip around the scissors only tightens more.

“If he doesn’t comply we have his granddaughters in our grasp. We will just threaten one of their lives until he bends the knee,” he shares without an ounce of hesitation. His words just roll off of his tongue.

“That will surely work, but I’m certain we won’t have to take those measures,” Lord Larys says before Ser Alfred cuts in.

“That is if he doesn’t call to his other granddaughter, Lady Rhaena, and her wild dragon. With Astraea still alive, they could use Lord Stark’s new host and Lady Arryn’s host to turn against us. And we don’t have the numbers to compete.”

Aegon scoffs with displeasure and Ser Alfred continues with a bit of hesitation.

“That is why I suggest we kill Rhaenyra’s son Aegon…”

Your pinched eyebrows falter as the rage contorting your face turns to disbelief for a second.

“…That way they don’t have an heir to use against us. With Prince Aemond’s son you don’t need Aegon as heir, nor will your niece be a threat with her now betrothed to Lord Stark. Killing Aegon will discourage the forces, it will show them that we still have power and that we are not to be trifled with.”

No. No. No…

Aegon can’t die too. Your mother would have fought to the death to keep him alive; her last living son.

Plus, he is your brother. Even if you weren’t raised together and he’s more like a stranger to you, he’s still the last living brother you have so he can’t die. You can’t let him die, and…you…won’t. Even if it means swallowing your anger and your pride you will keep him alive.

Thus after a deep shuddering breath, you drop the scissors meant to kill Aegon, making a loud clattering sound the moment the metal hits the floor. After that, you draw out another trembling breath before you slowly step out of hiding and come across guards on their way to investigate the noise.

“I have come to see the King,” you mutter in defeat and ignore the way they look at you with disgust as you’re still wearing your birthing gown and have not cleaned any of your sweat, tears, or blood.

“This…way,” one guard points to the hall as he steps aside, letting you push your chin up and continue to trudge forward.

Once you’re in the sights of all three men you bring yourself to a halt and force yourself to drag your eyes toward Aegon, even if it brings you more pain than when you were walking where you are.

“Princess,” Ser Alfred gasps.

“Bring—”

“No,” you cut Lord Larys off and hold your belly. “I come to say one thing.”

You draw in a deep breath as you hesitate to form your next words.

You will say what you came here to say, there’s no doubt about it. But even if it hurts to admit it, having to sacrifice your own dreams to save your brother wounds you deeply because it’s Aegon; the man who killed your mother, the man who you always hated, and the man who has always been so perverted and gross. Furthermore, after having immunity by being betrothed to Cregan, Aegon is taking that away too.

“I,” you breathe out and break your silence, but don’t continue right away. First, you fall to your knees with a pained groan and then, continue with your head hanging. “…Will marry you.”

You miss the looks that are shared and fail to look strong and nonchalant. Your voice and your face both expose your weakness as those words pierce your soul.

“Just please,” you beg in a quivering voice. “Don't kill my brother. He-he can go to the wall the moment he turns of age. Just please, please don’t kill him,” you plead in the same desperation you used to plead for your mother's life.

“He’s all I have left of my family,” you whisper. “Please, Aegon. He doesn’t even have to be raised in the Red Keep, you can send him to be someone’s ward. Just please…don’t kill him.”

You can hear shifting and wood creaking before Aegon’s voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and a twinge of anger sparks back where it had been burning before.

“Look at me,” he says smugly because he has control over you like never before. And even if you don’t want to meet his gaze. Even if the thought disgusts and angers you, you slowly pull your head up and meet his gaze with a hardened look.

“I accept your proposal. It’s a relief you came to your senses, my sweet niece. Just tell me you renounce your betrothed Lord Stark and you are mine.”

You swallow back thickly and feel your lips twitch down before you open your mouth and respond with dread. “I do. I renounce my betrothed Lord Cregan Stark.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Were my letters sent?”

“Yes,” Vanessa gives your question a response before leaving you in your solitude once again.

“<I love you.>”.

Tears slipped past her eyes…small beads of salt and sorrow littered water rolled down her face the same way they involuntarily run down your cheeks right now. You remember.

Having memories is a blessing. The way one's mind can recall things that happened in the past is truly fascinating, but right now, like every other second since your mother died, your mind and your memories are cruel. They bring such a visceral physical aching pain that can’t be tamed, it's so deafening and it makes you grow overwhelmed fast. It doesn't even let you find solace in the sun's touch because you refuse to welcome its cold embrace.

Usually admiring the sea is a quick calming effect too, but even though you’re surrounded by it as you remain in Dragonstone, you refuse to look at it; almost as if it is guilty of causing your pain.

Lastly, being with Aerion is a great way to bring a smile to your face and relax your current aching heart, but you can’t be your children’s mother right now. You tried, you really have tried, but that connection feels like it’s blocked by the entity that is your rage, grief, and sorrow. It feels like you can’t love them until you take care of that which brought you pain and took everything away from you. Is it cruel?

Maybe, but you did make it your task to at least study your twins to know how they look, and you can say that Daenys has the same blond-silver hair and blue eyes Aemond had. It’s too soon to tell but you have a feeling she’s going to look like him too. As for Daenerys, she’s smaller just like she was in the womb; she’s a lot slimmer than her sister too, and her eyes are…grey, but Vanessa says that she’s far too young to really know if that’s the eye color she’ll have forever. They might change colors as she grows older, so the jury is still out on who her father might be, more so because her hair color is white-silver just like yours, which, that in itself is good. It’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.

So now all that you’re pestered with is that you can’t be the mother that your children so desperately need. With Aerion grown so attached to your mother, he’s missing her terribly. He won’t stop calling out for her, and it hurts because you’re here but you can’t make yourself comfort him, and it’s not because you don’t want to, you do, but…there’s just so much pain that you can't scrape up an ounce of any other emotion besides anger. Loud, throbbing, and agonizing anger that makes you scream out to the ground as you fold over the edge of the bed.

Does that ease everything that torments you? No, but it lets you stand up and walk out of your chambers—at least Aegon lets you have free reign of the castle since you are his betrothed and because he knows you won’t risk your brother's life since he holds it in the palm of his hand.

Alas, when you step out and try to walk to the library or anywhere you can spend your time where Aegon won’t be, you’re reminded of your mother. The memory of her haunts every hall and every corridor, so you can either return to your quarters or go…visit Baela. You haven’t gone to see her or attempted to free her from her imprisonment because once again it’s your emotions that keep you away, they’ve kept you captive and isolated in your lonesome to let you simmer in your rage-born hatred.

However, you have nothing to do now and Baela has no clue what happened—and how can you let her continue with her days thinking of a life that no longer exists? And if you can’t muster an ounce of warmth then she at least deserves to know the truth. Thus after some hesitation, you make your way to the cells at the lowest part of the castle, but linger in the shadows for a moment and debate returning to the isolation of your chambers as you imagine how the interaction could play out.

She could hate you and she could also blame you for your mother's death, but if she doesn’t know she wouldn’t have the ability to do any of those things.

Yet she needs to know, so after a deep breath you slowly walk out of the shadows and make your way to the only occupied cell. Right away Baela spots the shadow that casts on the cell floor and lets her curiosity get answered by looking over and seeing you standing at the other side of those bars.

“Baela,” you greet her with a whisper and she takes a few more hard blinks before she shoves herself to her feet and rushes to the bars, letting you notice that she looks slimmer than the last time you saw her, and she has burn scars on one part of her face. She also has short hair now too so she sports a cute afro.

“The twins,” she says after she uttered your name with a surprised gasp. “They’re born?”

You offer her the ghost of a smile and nod. “Yes, girls, Daenys and Daenerys.”

Baela sighs with relief and offers you a sweet and happy smile that you can’t mirror. She’s quick to notice it; along with your drooped eyes and falling lips. Yet before she can interject you beat her to speaking.

“Aegon told me about what happened. I’m sorry about Moondancer,” you offer her your condolences and linger where you are for a second before you step forward and gently wrap your hands around hers.

“She went out fighting,” her voice quivers, and her eyes water. “And she might have not killed Sunfyre but…”

“He can't fly because of Moondancer, he’s rotting away in the courtyard,” you cut her off to offer her some hope before the dread is revealed.

“Sunfyre is dying?” Baela queries with a twitch of her lips.

“He is.” You nod. “No doubt about it. He should die any day now.”

Baela musters a faint smirk before lifting her chin and slowly looking at you in confusion. “What are you doing here without chains? Is Astraea okay?”

You nod lightly. “She suffered some injuries at the Second Battle at Tumbleton, but she will be fine. She’s just off the Island for now.”

Baela scoffs and passes you an amused look. “Why? Are you two upset with each other?”

You swallow back thickly and let the silence build up as you admire the way she manages to smile in such gloomy times and in such a dark space.

“No,” you mumble after a moment of admiration and drop your head to let out a heavy sigh whilst your grip unknowingly tightens around her hands. “Baela listen to me…I’m here because I was hurt in the battle at Tumbleton. Astraea brought me here and Aegon and his party were able to hold me captive,” you pause and she tries to slip her grasp from under your hold, but you refuse to let go.

“Okay,” Baela whispers.

“In my captivity, I attempted to escape to find my mother, and I did find her, but,” you swallow back the lump that was quick to form in your throat. “She was already here. I couldn’t even sail past the island,” you mutter and find it hard to look up at Baela even though you’re curious about her current reaction.

“I tried to save her. I swam and ran to her to try and save her, but…I-I was too late,” your voice quivers and you feel Baela stiffen under your grasp—“they overwhelmed us and Ser Jason betrayed us, so they were able to take us. That’s…when…Aegon,” you gasp shakily. “He…killed her,” you let out with a growl as your anger overturns the sorrow that was clinging in your throat.

“No,” Baela whispers. “No. No…” she trails off and manages to yank her hands from under your grasp.

You continue to look at the ground beneath your feet, but you hear her back away in the growing silence.

And it’s in the silence that violent memories of that night come forth and you stop feeling sorry for yourself. You push back your grief and sorrow, and let your agony, your loud and throbbing rage come forth to take control of every part of you.

“But it’s okay,” you interject in a voice that finally holds emotion, but not warmth to comfort her, a coldness that only accompanies the bad. “It’s okay, Baela,” you continue and look at her with a gaze bathing in raging flames of malice, giving Baela chills when she finds your eyes.

“<Because I will avenge her. I will avenge our Queen,” you say in Valyrian so the guards nearby won’t understand. “I’m set to marry Aegon, and it’s when I become his Queen and garner some of his trust that I will kill him. We will.>”

Baela watches you with concern as your eyes grow dark and a wicked smirk paints on your lips. Yet she also feels relieved that your mother will be avenged. It’s that fire that will keep the war alive and bring justice.

However, you then continue adding on to your plans.

“<But not before I burn down the part of King’s Landing that killed Joffrey and forced my mother to flee,>” you reveal without remorse or a hint of deceit, only coldness and madness, and that’s when Baela’s concern outgrows her own thirst for revenge because hasn’t she lost enough?

“<But you can’t,>” she protests your plans in Valyrian and makes your face contort with confusion.

“<But I can,” you counter. “I have the means to. I have my dragon. And they deserve it. How can they go unpunished when they rose up against the crown? Besides,” you scoff. “Say what you want about Aegon, but he is still a Targaryen and those were our dragons, he’ll let me take revenge and put those people in their place.>”

Baela makes her way back to the bars and you see her eyes are still gleaming, but now as she speaks you know she doesn’t cry for your mother, she’s tearing up out of a gnawing worry. “<But what will raining fire down on those people cost but your life? Your own humanity?>”

“<Humanity?>” You quip and feel your face twist back with anger. “<Did they have humanity when they killed my son's dragon? Or every other dragon that lived in that pit, at that? Did they have humanity when they rose up against a woman trying to help them?!>” You raise your voice and grip onto those bars with a deadly grip.

“Perhaps not,” Baela counters in the common tongue. “<But that’s when you become the bigger person and show them we can still be a fraction they can trust and believe in. We can have them help us in our fight against the traitors that still remain!>”

You look at her as if she offended you and shake your head. “But don’t you get it? It was because they turned against my mother that she had to flee. It was because of them that she’s dead! There's no point in saving such traitorous and disgusting people. Don’t you see?”

“And don’t you see that raining fire will result in more smallfolk asking for your head?!” She exclaims. “Don't you see that it will turn you into someone unrecognizable that you won’t even comprehend? You will lose yourself!”

You clench your jaw and lower your jaw as your glare turns fierce.

“Let it go,” Baela warns. “Let all that anger and thirst for revenge go because it will kill you and I have already lost enough. We both have. Just do it the right away. It may be a longer path but it won’t get you killed.”

You blink as you take in her words. Not because you’re considering them, but because you don’t know what to answer with. Not at that moment.

“No,” is all you muster, and fall quiet again, letting her draw out a deep breath and linger in the growing silence for a moment before you finally blurt words that just bombard your mind. “What if it had been Jace?”

“Don’t,” Baela warns but you continue and lean your face towards the bar.

“I will,” you rebuttal and keep going. “If it had been Jace who had died in that riot you would not think twice about doing what I want to do even if it cost your life!”

“I said don’t!” Baela exclaims and slams her hands on the bars hoping it will scare you off, but you just stare deep into her eyes and try to press her.

Yet there’s no buttons to push. Anger perhaps reigned over her once, but you don’t see it now through the windows that let you take a peek at her tired soul.

“Do what you want,” she says and follows up with your name as she continues. “Just don’t expect me to have your back because your mother is the last person I will grieve in this war,” she remarks and backs away toward the shadows of her cell. “I won’t hold a candle for you anymore,” she adds with an attempt at sounding angry but she sounds more sad than anything else.

“Okay,” you mutter and blink repeatedly, feeling your eyes sting with tears that build up in your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. You draw in a deep breath and nod stiffly in comprehension before you turn and storm away with your agitation almost rising off your head in the form of steam.

How could she of all people expect you to let your anger go? Why can’t she muster the energy to keep pushing a little longer? Isn’t her grief, rage, and agony loud and chaotic too?

Nevertheless, when you reach the door and try to leave the dungeon, the door opens and guards barge in.

There’s no one else in this dungeon for them to take so even if you're pissed off at Baela, you stop in your tracks and turn on your heels to watch them open her cell.

“What are you doing?” You probe with curiosity and worry that form quickly.

When neither of the men answers, you march over to the man yanking Baela out of her cell, and demand an answer. “Where are you taking Lady Baela? Answer me!”

The guard looks at you from the corner of his eyes and deadpans. “The King wants to see her in the courtyard.”

What? What for?

These men won’t answer you, they hardly wanted to answer your previous question, so you turn swiftly and storm past them to reach the courtyard first. That’s when you come to a stop though and get riddled with disgust when the stench of rotting flesh hits your nose before you’re shocked to see that Sunfyre is no longer struggling to stay alive. He’s dead, and Aegon…when you let yourself take him in you notice that his eyes are red and puffy, but they're also mixed with anger.

“What do you want from Baela?” You demand him and struggle to hold his gaze.

“So you do come out of your chambers?” Aegon remarks and doesn’t hold amusement or any kind of teasing glint, his gaze remains narrowed and locked on you. “You’ll see.”

You huff and stomp toward him to keep pressing him, but his sad attempt at a Kingsguard puts themselves in between him and you, leaving only glares to be passed and challenged until Baela is brought forth.

“Sunfyre is dead,” Aegon blurts but there’s a hint of…sadness in his voice and why wouldn’t there be? No matter what you feel about Aegon, he was still a dragonrider and his bond with his dragon was like yours with Astraea, so it’s easy to tell why he expresses such sadness.

“And it’s because of you and your damned dragon,” Aegon hisses and has the guards move aside to let him pass and drag his wooden chair toward Baela. “So it’s good your dragon paid the price, but now you must pay it too.”

“No,” you interrupt him and take a big step forward to try and get close, but a guard once again steps in between and blocks you away from Aegon with his arm.

“I renounced my betrothed to be yours. I am going to be your willing wife once we return to King’s Landing,” you remind him with distress building in your voice. “Which means that our sins have been pardoned, you cannot kill her. Spare her life.”

Aegon tilts his head and shakes it. “No. I already spared your brother's life. He’s a threat to my claim, but I spared him because you and I will marry. That was the only condition you could be granted. No more. She will die for what she did,” he spats in return and then snaps his gaze to the guards holding Baela so they can drag her to the block.

“Aegon!” You exclaim and look at him with desperation. The same desperation you used when your mother was in a similar position. “Please!”

“<I love you.>”.

You gasp and try to move toward Baela now that you have free range, but the guard that had kept you from Aegon wraps his arms around your waist to hold you back, making those words that just echoed in your head get louder, and making the image of her, your mother start forming in your mind and threaten to paralyze you.

“<I love you.>”.

No. No, no, go away. Go away…

“Aegon, please,” you whisper and look over at him with tears that are quick to form in your eyes. “She’s still your cousin. She…she…” you trail off as the image of your mother appears before you in the same way before she died, so you’re forcefully ripped away from the current moment and return to that night.

You see her as clear as day all over again. You see her in front of Sunfyre.

You want to save her, but you can’t. Once again you’re useless in the situation and you watch as the fire bathes her all over again, ripping her away from you.

“NOO!” You bellow and reach out for her, but the moment you blink you’re brought back to reality and Baela is now taking your mother's place.

“The princess is right about sparing Lady Baela’s life,” the new maester interjects and glances at you with concern. “She is still a Velaryon, daughter to Lady Laena, and granddaughter to Lord Corlys. If you kill her he might turn his fleet against you and trap you here. There has been no word about him declaring war so it’s safe to assume you can negotiate a deal but only if his remaining kin are left alive.”

You keep your eyes on Aegon to wait and watch him ponder the decision laid before him while Baela’s head remains on the chopping block.

“Aegon,” you mumble but don’t gain his attention. He keeps his eyes averted and remains silent until he comes up with his answer.

“Alright then. Send a letter to the Sea Snake’s bastard…the living one,” he snickers and steals a glance at you so you know he’s taunting you. “Tell him if he doesn’t present himself in a fortnight to pay homage to his rightful liege, his niece Lady Baela will die.”

The maester bows and scurries off, whilst the guards pull Baela to her feet and without needing to be told, they start dragging her back where they had brought her from, letting you draw out a deep relieved breath, and part away from the guard still holding you back to get close to Baela.

Albeit it’s when you’re near her that she drags her eyes toward you and mutters. “I did not need your help nor did this change my mind about you.”

You blink in disbelief and draw in a shaky breath of shock before you push your nose up in the air and nod stiffly because this hasn’t changed your mind about what you need to do. “If that’s what you want I won’t beg for your attention.”

You let out a deep breath and watch her get taken away with your jaw clenched, and your eyes cloudy with tears unaware of the fact that that would be the last time you would see her. Not forever, but while you waited for a response you were restricted from going down to the dungeons—so much for free range. So you were left waiting in your quarters for days and days for any response whether it was a direct attack or a letter.

Then again, you did not mind being still and waiting because it let you plan what you wanted to do to get rid of Aegon once and for all. Besides, you weren't desperate to look for some way to talk to Baela either. Perhaps you should’ve snuck your way down to the dungeons and made peace with her—it’s what your mother and Jacaerys would have told you to do, but you heard what she said, and you were being honest in what you said too, so you kept your word while you were waiting in your solitude and just planned and let yourself get lost in your thoughts again and again.

That is until finally word came from Kings Landing that your grandfather Lord Corlys had declared his loyalty to Aegon, and that he was pardoned and accepted back in the Small Council after declaring his allegiance to the Broken King. In turn, Baela was spared from her fate and finally brought out from the dark dungeon, but not spared from chains. She would be kept in chains until you reached Kings Landing, which won’t be long now because at long last, “we’re going home”, left Aegon’s lips.

Thus finally after weeks, you were allowed to leave the grey walls and haunting halls of Dragonstone. Yet what was leaving Dragonstone really worth when every waking hour, with every step you take, and every breath you breathe you’re reminded of her, your mother, and her death.

The memory of her death is like a never-ending loop that the sight of the sea can’t wash away while you’re on your way back to King's Landing. Which is such a shame because you really love the sea...

“You know,” you say to Aegon after you debated long and hard if you wanted to speak to him or not—“it was the Smallfolk who killed all the dragons. They’re the ones to blame for not letting you have access to a new dragon.”

Aegon watches the waves splitting against the ship while you watch the clouds with a hint of a smirk.

“I know,” Aegon mutters.

“We have to respond to their treason and rebellion with fire,” you share as you catch a large, winged shadow form in the clouds. “We have to remind them that there are consequences to their actions and that we are still the crown and that they are sheep. Even if they did defy the opposing side.”

Aegon doesn’t respond right away, he stays quiet and continues to watch the way the waves part.

“What would you have me do?” Aegon almost snaps at you, but he manages to keep his composure and just sounds annoyed.

“Let me rain fire on them,” you share the plan you’ve been brewing for a while. “Not the entire city, just a section of it so they remember we hold the power. That they have to look up at us. We are not their equal.”

Aegon slowly diverts his eyes away from the waves and starts to turn his head to look at you, but before he can take a glance the sound of clicking coming from above steals his attention before a roar that rattles the wooden boards and shakes the water's surface blasts from the clouds.

“Why should I trust you not turning against me when you’re on your dragon?” He asks the right question as claws and a purple-scaled belly break the clouds as Astraea reveals only a part of herself first before she dives down in front of the running ship and quickly yet shakily swoops up to the air with a large fish caught in her claws.

“Because,” you say with a faint smile as you watch your dragon go back to hiding in the clouds. “You have my brother's life in your hands and I will do anything to keep my last remaining brother alive.”

You finally drop your eyes to look down at Aegon and await his response, knowing that he knows that if he doesn’t act, people will view him as weak and he doesn’t want people to keep thinking that about him. Not anymore because after all that’s happened he’s still alive and the King.

“Fine. Do it,” Aegon gives in, causing a wicked smirk to break on your lips.

——

“Who is it that you wanted to be?”

A peaceful tranquility can almost be felt radiating from Shae’s Manse as the brisk wind running over King’s Landing almost seems to carry it in between its gusts that hit you while you sit upon your dragon; causing your long sleeves designed like dragon wings, and the end of your crimson dipped skirt to blow behind you while your shining silver chain head peace that falls over your face like a veil, sings as the wind makes the silver chains hit each other lightly.

“Besides wanting to be a sailor, or an explorer, or a singer, I wanted to be Queen; a kind one like my great, great grandmother Queen Alyssane, and my ancestor Queen Rhaenys.”

You’ve had time to think about what you wanted to do and yes there were moments in time when you hesitated and wanted to back off from your plan for the sake of the innocent lives that had to do with running your mother out of town. However, just as your plans fire is going to die out, the sparks of anger, revenge, and agony keep it alive because that same mother returns to haunt your thoughts, and then you can’t stand the thought of the people’s betrayal going unpunished.

Besides, they had their chance and they wasted it. They chose fear, so you will give them something to fear.

“<Forward.>” You command Astraea in Valyrian and nudge the handles down regardless of your verbal command. All without changing a single expression on your face. Even if you're full of rage, your exhaustion, grief, and agony keep their claim on your face, exposing someone who looks empty and tired of everything life has thrown at them, even something as small as expressing emotion.

Then again you are tired. You’re tired of it all. You just want silence and a moment of stillness and where else can you find it but here? In this current moment as Astraea flies past the wall and brings the Smallfolk a moment of darkness as her shadow casts over the streets, homes, and busybodies.

However, the darkness doesn’t scare them right away because when they look up they see The Adventurous Astraea, a dragon known as tolerant to people, protective and kind to those you love, and obedient to her rider. So they look away from the purple beast. Some welcome the dragon as they start to feel immediately safer due to all the criminal activity that has ravished the city. However, they should have known. They should have expected consequences for their crimes.

No bad deed goes unpunished and you are here now for justice. You are your mother and Joffrey’s revenge.

You are their terror.

“Dracarys,” you sneer and lift your chin slightly to look down at the people with a change in your gaze, going from an exhausted and empty look to a pierced glare reflecting the roaring fire as it falls from Astraea’s mouth and rains down on the people.

There’s no hesitation, no pause, or a small taste of justice. The cries and screams don’t reach your heart because now it’s impenetrable. Like a nasty and quick plague, the fire keeps unfolding over the streets of Shae’s Manse, causing that beautiful tranquility that once traveled past the city walls to erupt into an uproar of chaos.

Some people that were lucky to escape the flames that ate away at everything and everyone in its way, found salvation in Flea Bottom. However, the same can’t be said for the people who try to escape toward Rhaeny’s Hill because you and Astraea turn your terror toward it.

If only the Dragonpit had been intact because people could be safe and untouched by the fire in there, but alas, it was the Smallfolk who caused the Dragonpit to fall when they killed those dragons. It was their own stupidity that destroyed their biggest means of salvation because Astraea doesn’t put it up in flames, you make sure to leave it untouched by any flames.

When you fly past what was once the city’s greatest wonder, you continue to spread your terror with more vigor. With more rage and pure visceral hate because if it wasn’t for them your mother would have never fled King’s Landing! She wouldn’t have fallen in Aegon’s clutches! And she would still be alive!

But no, they ran her out of her home. They killed your brother Joffrey and took the person you loved the most. Them! They did it! Every single filthy person below was the cause of your mother's death. They robbed you of your hope, joy, and light and left you in the dark void where all you have is your pain that throbs in the same way your heart beats. And with every single ba-dum, there's a reminder of what you lost and the pain it brings. And with every other beat the pain and the hate that was already so overwhelming spreads.

How much more of it can you handle? You don’t want to hurt, but you can’t forget. The pain is constant and the memory is haunting and loud! You just want it to stop!

“Please, please, please,” you beg in your mind and close your eyes, but Sunfyre ripping your mother apart flashes in your mind. You see her dying over and over again and it all grows louder.

The cries and pleas coming from below grow tenfold, adding the volume in your head. The fire's constant roar heightens too and it all starts to swirl in your head until you let out a blood-curdling scream that finally brings silence.

The fire that you rain doesn’t come to a stop, you continue to spread it as you fly down the Street of Seeds, but everything is quiet. There’s a peace in the chaos that you alone relish in until finally you hit Cobble Square and have Astraea finally stop, letting you tune into the noise once again.

However, rather than turning your dragon around and flying toward the Red Keep, you descend your dragon and land on Cobble Square to watch the beauty of the flames as they rise toward the sky, and the thick smoke pollutes the air. Furthermore in that moment as you stand there taking it all in, a swarm of people who were unscathed, and people who were caught on fire run toward you, but not to seek your attention nor is it because they’re full of wonder by your appearance. The people ran past you in terror. They don’t try to touch you or ask for a simple greeting, they shove past you because they’re terrified.

And that's all you wanted, but not all you see. You also see your mother standing in the middle of the chaos that runs at you; she glows in the chaos and outshines the bright flames, but doesn’t carry any notable emotion. She just watches you and you watch her as if telling her that this is all for her.

After a lingering minute of the world just being about her illusion and you, you decide to turn away and mount your dragon to fly to the Red Keep. This time when you land, people don’t run, nor do they look at you with fear. You find horror in the eyes of the survivors like Alicent, Lord Borros, Lord Larys, and your grandfather Lord Corlys as they stand in the courtyard after having greeted their King.

Your grandfather tries to find the answer in your eyes, but when he finds your gaze past your veil of chains he sees a glossy yet narrowed and burning gaze. That girl he was looking for is gone; he sees that when you stop by him, but that's not all because he’s the only one who looks deeper than the surface. Everyone else sees a mad woman who couldn’t be stopped because it was the King himself who allowed the terror to happen.

“Welcome home, Princess. It’s good to see you again.” Your grandfather breaks his stunned silence, making you slowly find his gaze and neither smile nor frown. Your gaze remains glossy and hardened and keeps holding that fiery behind them that tells him without a need for words that there’s nothing good about being back.

“Did they find the guilty party for the uprising?” You ask bluntly without returning his warmth despite the fire you hold. “I want to see them”

Your grandfather sighs and hesitates before he nods. “Yes, but,” he pauses. “The King wants to wait until after the wedding to pass judgment on the guilty. He is eager…” he trails off and you avert your gaze and nod stiffly before you walk without bothering to greet anyone else even though Lord Borros had restored peace to the city, and Alicent couldn’t keep her eyes off you, almost like she wanted to talk to you but also couldn’t bring herself to do it, so instead she just stands there watching you until you completely disappear inside and aren't seen again. Not like before.

Before you were spotted in the halls of the Red Keep frequently. When you were young it always varied whether you were alone or accompanied, but you truly lived up to the name they had given you, “The Golden Girl.” It was always such a delight for so many to see you. And when you got older, when you returned from the North, people often sought out a mere glimpse of your appearance as you had grown more glorious, and it’s not like you didn’t give them a reason not to seek you out, because oh, you did. You intrigued them more with the warmth that flowed from you and embraced their presence like the sun embraced everyone it saw.

Now no one sought you out, you were not a glorious presence riddled with warmth. You would be like a dark cloud bringing in a storm that everyone wants gone and wants to avoid; if you would get out of your quarters that is, but you didn’t. You stayed inside your quarters as if locked inside, making everyone believe you felt safer and more comfortable within your four walls, but that was far from the truth. You’re miserable. You can hardly sleep or stand being awake. You hardly eat and don’t do anything you used to like. You hardly see your children. You’re just there wallowing in everything that torments you.

When the day of the wedding rolls around (which was only two days after you returned) you did manage to get in a few winks of sleep and when you woke up there he was, your husband, your Aemond. He’s still asleep with his long blond-silver hair in a braid, and his calm breaths making his chest and nostrils rise and fall ever so gently.

He honestly looks like a beautiful piece of artwork that you can admire for hours, but alas, you want to be that much closer to him so you raise your hand right from under you and reach out for his cheek to stroke it.

Yet, when your hand is about to make contact with his flesh you're abruptly reminded that no one is lying beside you, and Aemond is in fact dead. You wake up alone in a cold room looking at an empty space, remembering, like a slap to the face, that today is your wedding to the man you hate.

You could jump out of your balcony and avoid the entire thing, but they’re all now depending on you, aren’t they? Everyone that died? They depend on you to try and get your mother's own blood on her rightful throne. You can feel the pressure of their haunting hands holding you up, pushing you to keep fighting another day and walk down that aisle to play your part in this war still kept alive by sparks and people fanning the flames.

Thus you let the army of women get you ready. You drape on your heavy ivory wedding gown dipped in crimson red, and hide your grieving and hardened face behind a crystal-littered veil before you finally drag your feet out of your quarters.

This time around your wedding isn’t private nor is it done under Valyrian traditions like when Aemond and you married on that hill with no one but your dragons, Helaena, his mother, and Aegon. The sun isn’t out, and the sea isn’t accompanying you either, snow graces Kings Landing as it gently falls from the sky, and hundreds pairs of eyes are forced to be your witness to show the people that at long last the Targaryen family had mended their differences and rejoined their forces as one.

War will surely end now, and peace will finally return to the realm!

That’s all they want, that’s all they care about. They don’t care about Aegon marrying you, they stopped caring about you the moment you turned your dragon against them, so they don’t care if you look miserable. Not even the highborn Lords that stand nearby care that you never lift your head off the ground throughout the ceremony done under the eyes of the Seven. They just care about finally reeling you in and locking you away to bring an end to the war (they started).

The only people who care are Cregan who is too far to do anything to stop the wedding, and you, but they can’t hear you screaming and crying because you suffer quietly and act like the cooperating princess. That’s what you let Aegon see when he drapes his cloak on your back to signify that you’re at last his, cooperation and emptiness, and that’s what you continue to show him when he lifts the veil off your face. However, he ignores that as he's eager to finally know the taste of your lips.

“You truly are radiant today,” he says with a faint smirk, making you offer him a soft scoff as a response before you stand to your given height after having to crouch to his level, causing the veil to slip over on your face as you turn away from him to let the ceremony continue to the second portion; your coronation.

However, as much as you dreamt and as excited as you once were to hear those glorious words directed at you. Now you simply tune them out and don’t even think about smiling or mustering any ounce of pride when the time comes for the crown to be placed upon your veiled-covered head.

Albeit you also don’t look like there’s no soul inside your body. When you turn to face the crowd of people, your eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the corner of your lips droop with your faint scowl, and the crystal fragments on your veil cascade down so perfectly that it looks like there’s tears rolling down your cheeks, leading the audience to see you as some ethereal beauty; like those tapestries and statues of beautiful weeping gods. However, it’s all a trick of the bright white light reflecting through the windows of the Great Sept, because the mist in your eyes reflects the flames of ferocity still very much alive inside.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

It’s a good thing Aegon can’t get his cock up anymore or else the night would be unpleasant and traumatizing. And it was almost traumatizing, but when it came to the bedding ceremony he couldn’t make it work, no matter the hunger in his eyes, so he began to drink and sent you off after he told you to swear that you wouldn’t tell a soul what happened.

But who could you tell? Baela? She doesn’t talk to you even though she’s not living in a cell anymore.

Vanessa? Sure, but the conversation will get a couple of laughs before it’s over and done with.

Rhaena? She’s still in the Eyrie and by the time she responds your amusement would have died down, so no there’s no one you could have actually told, he’s made sure of that…

Nevertheless, it’s a good thing the bedding ceremony didn’t last—or start to begin with because now you can put all your focus on the significant matter at hand.

“Ser Cane!” You greet excitedly as you watch him taking his hood off as he’s climbing up the steps of the Red Keep.

“Your Grace,” he responds with a hint of warmth in his otherwise nonchalant voice. “Look at you,” he muses and when he finally reaches you on top of the staircase he bows before he puts his arms out. “I hope it was a safe delivery.”

You avert your gaze and respond quietly. “It was a rather stressful one but the three of us are alive so it was safe.”

Your sworn protector sighs and drops one arm back to his side while he lets the other one hover over your shoulder for a second before he lets it fall gently. “My deepest condolences about your loss, my Queen.”

You blink repeatedly and feel your eyes sting at the weight of his words because you can hear that he actually means what he says, but you refuse to cry so you just take a deep breath and look up at him with a thankful smile. “Thank you Ser…was your trip here pleasant?”

Ser Cane drops his hand and shrugs. “As good as it gets.”

You scoff softly in response before you point your head inside. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”

Without any protest or attempt to add anything right there on the staircase where you have prying eyes, Ser Cane follows you inside to a secluded corner barely touched by nearby candlelight.

“How was the wedding?” Ser Cane asks with a hint of amusement.

“Pft,” you blow out and turn around on your heels with a smirk. “I got to wear beautiful gowns, and I now own beautiful crowns so I’ll say it was pleasant.”

Ser Cane scoffs and when you’re facing each other under the faint candlelight you begin to fiddle with your rings and probe. “Is Cregan okay? Safe?”

“He was worried,” Ser Cane admits as he watches your downcasted gaze. “He almost went mad with worry, but when we heard word of your wellbeing he calmed down. I’m sure he would be here in a heartbeat given the chance, but he’s keeping his head up and doing his job. He’s waiting on his army, they should reach him soon.”

Your lips fall as you nod gently in comprehension and take it all in without letting the news ache your heart too much. You feel it get tugged at as you imagine what Cregan might be feeling and thinking after you had finally gotten your chance to start your long-awaited story together, but he can’t take up all your thoughts nor can you let him torment you too harshly because there’s still a sliver of hope. If he gives you one more chance then there will be no more obstacles after this.

“How did he take the news about me being engaged to Aegon?” You have to ask as that specific thought has been killing you since he couldn’t respond back with a letter of his thoughts on the matter.

“I don’t know,” Ser Cane admits with a sigh. “I’m sorry, your Grace. He read the letter in his private quarters and when he came out, well…you know how he is. Cool as ice.”

The corner of your lips twitch up and you nod in agreement before you ask one more thing. “You didn’t tell him why you left, did you?”

Ser Cane scoffs. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”

You smile and tilt your head to the side. “I am not doubting you Ser, I just know that if he had asked, you wouldn’t have denied him an answer. You’re respectful that way.”

Ser Cane pulls something out of his satchel that’s hidden behind his cloak and then shakes his head. “Not with your personal matters, My Queen,” he says with a small proud smile that stays on his face as he hands you a small flask wrapped with parchment paper.

Before you pull the paper off the flask though, you offer him a flustered smile and then proceed to take the paper off to read the words it holds.

“You are going down the right path.

I will see you soon enough. Until then.

-Alys”

You smile softly and with admiration, before you hand the letter to Ser Cane so he can put it away while you lift your hand to look at the slow-acting poison you asked Alys to concoct for you.

“Great. Now I hope you’re able to stand on your feet for a while longer, Ser because we have work to do,” you let him know with a smug hint in your tone of voice as you hand him the flask so he can keep it hidden for you in his satchel for now.

“Of course, I can,” he assures you, making you flash him a smirk before you depart from your dimly lit corner and return to your quarters, but not to stay there. You take the hidden passage hidden within the walls of your quarters and guide Ser Cane down corridors festered with rats and only lit by the torch that you both hold in your hands.

There are many times when your sworn protector wants to question where you’re leading him, but he trusts you so follows you blindly until finally, you hit a stone wall that holds a doorknob.

“Here,” you point your chin to the doorknob on the wall.

“Are you sure?” Ser Cane asks for your safety.

You hum in agreement and take his torch before you step aside to let him open the door.

Once the light from inside the room casts outside you hang the torches on the wall, and let Ser Cane take the lead to the mysterious room.

“Who goes there?” A voice from inside carries out, but doesn’t get answered as Ser Cane stomps in, nor when you strut behind him and get surrounded by the brighter room. You let the sight of your presence answer the question your grandfather, Baela, and Lord Larys ask themselves.

“Granddaughter,” your grandfather gasps as he watches you quietly stride toward the chair at the end of the table.

“Queen,” Ser Cane corrects him as he closes the secret door. “She’s your Queen.”

“Your Grace,” your grandfather corrects himself whilst Lord Larys immediately greets you with the right title and Baela stays quiet.

Albeit you ignore the greetings so it doesn’t matter. You just take a seat on the chair that steals all of the attention of the room, and sit up straight with your nose in the air and a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Sit my Lords and Lady, we have a coup to plan.”

A/N- Ser Cane the father that stepped up

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

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moralesluvr · 20 hours ago

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IDFC | BILLIE EILISH.

୧ ‧₊˚ your best friend comes home drunk again, and you realize that hiding your love for her is dawning on you more than you thought.

pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. angst & nothing but it | unrequited love | no happy ending (but do tell if you want a part two...) author's note. hello second upload of the day!! (this is so unlike me) but i had this revolutionary idea while listening to idfc by blackbear...so here's this very angsty fic lmao! enjoy! word count. 2.7k

falling in love with your best friend has got to take the cake for the ‘dumbest shit i’ve ever put myself through’ award, you think.

you didn’t mean for it to happen— of course not, and it all happened so quickly that you didn’t realize how deep you were in it until months later.

you and billie had became friends in an odd way, you knew someone who knew claudia and of course, billie did too— so the both of you mingled at her birthday party a couple years back, when the both of you were just shy of eighteen.

nobody could seperate the two of you if they tried, and that trait carried on with you and billie until you stepped into adulthood. moving in together seemed like such a good idea in the past— you two were tight, and billie wanted to live separately from her family now— it should’ve been so easy, right?

well no, of course not.

before meeting billie, you assumed that you were straight. but as teenagers, that when lines start to get blurred and things start to mess with your head, and you would sometimes catch yourself staring at her for a little too long, or your heart twisting whenever she texted you.

it killed you to fall in love with billie. it was painful and long, and with every day that passed— she only made it worse.

because she was billie eilish, she would unintentionally flirt with you, but that’s because she did it with everyone, of course she wasn’t going to treat you any differently. she always called you nicknames like ‘baby’ and ‘mama’, which wouldn’t have bothered you that bad if you understood the friendly connotations behind it. but you wanted her to be yours so damn badly, and every time she called you anything but your name, it made your skin fiery to the touch.

but the worst of the worst, god— the thing that’ll haunt you forever, was when she had kissed you in your shared apartment after your 20th birthday. compared to her at the time, you were much more innocent, and hadn’t hardly kissed anyone in your entire life. and with your own speculation that you may not be strictly into men, you had drunkenly asked her to take your ‘girl kiss virginity’ away, and she obliged like it was nothing.

you didn’t like the kiss at all. not because she wasn’t a good kisser— she was a damn good one, but it was because the kiss was deep and passionate, and her hands were roaming all over your body as one kiss turned to two, and two turned to three, and you don’t even know how long the both of you were wrapped in each other until she complained that she was tired and that she was going to go to sleep.

it made you feel like shit. she had slipped out of your room and left you lonesome, and you brushed your fingertips over your lips to try to make sense of what just happened. you had just made out with your best friend, which wasn’t the issue, the issue was that you liked it.

you eventually had to pick a side, if you were going to let your little crush get in the way of friendship, or if you were just going to sweep all of those romantic feelings under the rug. and that’s exactly what you did— you pretended like it didn’t hurt when she would get into relationships, or come to you asking for help to plot on someone she wanted to be with.

you were just being a good best friend by helping her out. she would always ask you why you didn’t ever date, and you just made up some lame excuse about how that wasn’t what interested you. which wasn’t entirely a lie, it didn’t interest you, because only she did.

in current time, it’s half past two in the morning when billie stumbles through the door of your shared apartment, keys jingling on her carabiner against her jean-clad thigh when her eyes meet yours. you’re sitting idle at the kitchen island with a bowl of cereal in your hand, clad in nothing but a pair of billie’s boxers and a lacy white tee. you shoot her an inquisitive look, “where have you been dude? it’s like, two in the fucking morning, and i’ve barely seen your face all day.”

she gives out a nonchalant shrug, closing the door with her foot, and you can just tell by her sluggish body language that she’s anything but sober. she’s smiling too much and not talking enough, and when billie gets like that, it’s usually because she’s had a couple of drinks.

you’ve been out all night, don’t know where you’ve been, youre slurring on your words, not making any sense— but i don’t fucking care.

“where have you been, billie?” you ask her, dropping your spoon in your empty bowl as you looked at her, waiting on your answer.

she’s moving so slow that it starts to piss you off, and she just gives you another drunken shrug with a wave of her hand, “don’t worry a-about it, mama, just..a l-little get together.”

the nickname that she gives you makes your skin crawl, and you slide off of your stool and grab your phone, placing your bowl in the sink without saying a word billie. you don’t have the energy to entertain her shit tonight, so you walk up the stairs quietly, slamming your room door in contrast to your silence.

you don’t expect her to bother you for the rest of the night, but billie being billie, she unsolicitedly opens your bedroom door, leaning against the door frame with one arm resting above her head, the other at her side, holding a cup of juice.

“what did you do…tonight?” billie’s words are choppy, and you try your best to not pay any mind to her. usually when she’s drunk, you’d take such good care of her, getting her into comfier clothes and letting her sleep in your bed. but you were irritated now, and you tried your best to fight the urge to be your usual, hospitable self.

“nothing, i waited on your ass to get back so i could sleep.” you responded coldly to her, walking over to your dresser to grab a hoodie to slip on. your eyes scanned the array of clothing, and you bit your lip when you realized that all the clean hoodies you had belonged to billie.

you pretended like it didn’t bother you and grabbed a gray essentials hoodie, pulling it over your head and fixing the hood, “i’m gonna go to sleep, so…”

billie sunk into the oak wood of your door, and of course, when you turn your head for five seconds, she slips and falls straight to the floor.

“fuck!”

you quickly whipped your head around, and you wanted so badly tonight to just keep to yourself and not deal with billie’s shenanigans, but you couldn’t control yourself as you ran over to her, kneeling down and grabbing her face. her eyes were closed like she was asleep, and you tapped her cheek lightly but frantically, “bils? talk to me, are you awake?”

“i-i’m fine.” billie breathes out after a couple of moments, sitting up with her back pressed against the wall. she lets out a deep sigh that makes you let out one in relief.

even though you spoke against it at first, you were determined now to put her to bed safely. you offered her your water bottle that was on your dresser as you promised her that you’d be back, venturing out into the hallway and stepping into your bathroom.

you drew a hot bath for billie the way she liked it, leaving a change of clothes on the toilet, paired with a towel.

your blood was pumping adrenaline through your veins so hard that you could feel it heat your forehead. you weren’t even angry anymore— you just felt weak now, upset with the fact that billie always seemed to have this hold over you.

you loved her too much. it was becoming an issue now, but there wasn’t anything you could do or say, so the only option you had was to stay silent and suck it up. and although it hurt, really damn badly, those were your only options.

so you walked back into your bedroom and helped billie to the tub that waited for her, helping her strip out of her clothes that reeked of burberry perfume and tequila. her shirt was now discarded on the floor along with her pants, and the only thing she was in now was her bra and underwear.

of course, billie being your best friend— you’ve seen her naked plenty of times, but it still shocks you a little when she slips out of her undergarments, sinking into the bathtub, resting her head on the side of it.

“will you stay and talk to me?” billie murmurs, a little more sober now, and you nod silently, sitting crossed legged on the floor next to her.

it takes everything in you not to kiss her right now. she’s resting her head on her arms and looking at you with soft, tired eyes, her eyelashes drooping as she fought against sleep. her lips were pink and a little swollen, and she parts them to whisper lowly, “i’m….sorry.”

“sorry for what, billie?”

silence hangs in the air for a second until you hear her move in the water, taking a loofah and lavender scented body wash. she starts with her arms, head leaned against the wall behind her, “such a mess. i am— i-i’m sorry that you…have to put up with my shit.”

“it’s okay.” you mutter silently, “i do it because i love you.”

that makes billie smile, yet she’s got no idea that the love you’re describing is so much deeper than either of you could ever imagine. but you mask it well, flashing her a fake and small smile, throwing your head back to rest it on the toilet seat lid.

you honestly start to fall asleep until you hear the water drain, and billie grabs her towel and clothes behind you as you rub your eyes, jolting awake.

there’s no talking between the two of you. you just wait until she’s done putting on her t-shirt and sweats and when she’s ready, you lead her back to your bedroom instead of her own. you didn’t trust her to be alright on her own, so you let her sleep in your bed.

when you turn all of the lights off, billie climbs into bed next to you, her face so close to yours that your noses are almost touching.

her hand touches yours for a brief moment, “thank you…for always taking c-care…of me. i love you, y/n.”

billie falls asleep before you can even reply, and you eventually do the same, a tear slipping down your cheek silently.

the morning after is quiet, too quiet. the kind of quiet that presses against your chest and makes you want to scream just to break it. billie is still asleep when you wake up, her face turned toward you, the sunlight peeking through the blinds casting lines across her freckled skin. her lips are slightly parted, her breathing soft, and it makes your chest ache in that stupid way it always does when you look at her for too long.

you slide out of bed as carefully as you can, trying not to wake her, but even in her sleep, she stirs when you move. her hand stretches out to the space you just left, searching for you instinctively. it’s not fair how effortlessly she makes you feel like you belong to her, even when she doesn’t mean to.

the kitchen is the only refuge you have. you busy yourself making two cups of coffee, your hands shaking just enough to make it hard to pour the water into the machine. every sound feels too loud—the clink of the mug against the counter, the hum of the coffee pot, the low groan of the fridge door as you open it. your head is swimming with the memory of last night—her drunk apologies, the way her voice broke when she called herself a mess, and how much you wanted to hold her and never let go.

but you can’t. because she doesn’t love you like that.

she shuffles into the kitchen a while later, her hair a mess and her hoodie hanging off one shoulder. she looks like chaos wrapped in comfort, and it’s unfair how effortlessly beautiful she is. she rubs her eyes, leaning against the doorway as she watches you. “morning, mama,” she says, her voice still scratchy from sleep.

you don’t even bother correcting her nickname this time. it’s a battle you’ll never win. “morning,” you mutter, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter toward her.

she takes it, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic, and gives you a soft smile. it’s the kind of smile that would make anyone else’s heart flutter, but for you, it just feels like a weight. “you didn’t have to do all that for me last night, you know,” she says quietly, her eyes downcast.

“it’s fine, billie,” you reply, your voice more clipped than you intend. “you were drunk. i couldn’t just leave you like that.”

she frowns, her brow furrowing like she’s trying to figure you out. “are you mad at me?”

you laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “no, billie. i’m not mad at you. i’m mad at….myself.”

her frown deepens, and she sets the mug down on the counter. “but why? you didn’t do anything wrong.”

her response makes you want to scream. you want to tell her everything, every little thought that’s been eating away at you for months, years even. but instead, you bite your tongue, because you can’t risk losing her. so you lie, like you always do. “forget it. it’s nothing.”

she doesn’t believe you—of course she doesn’t. but she doesn’t push, which almost makes it worse. because deep down, you wish she cared enough to dig. you wish she could see past the walls you’ve built up and realize that every time you look at her, it feels like your heart is breaking all over again.

the day passes in a blur of nothingness. billie spends most of it curled up on the couch, scrolling through her phone and occasionally singing along to whatever song is playing softly in the background. you try to distract yourself with chores, cleaning the apartment until your hands are raw from scrubbing. but no matter how much you busy yourself, your thoughts always circle back to her.

it’s late when she finally speaks again, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “do you ever feel like you’re…stuck?”

you glance up from where you’re folding laundry, startled by the vulnerability in her tone. “stuck how?”

“like…like you’re not where you’re supposed to be. like you’re waiting for something to happen, but it never does.”

your throat tightens, because that’s exactly how you’ve felt since the day you realized you were in love with her. “yeah,” you admit quietly. “i know what that feels like.”

she doesn’t say anything else, but her eyes meet yours across the room, and for a moment, it feels like she’s trying to tell you something without words. but then she looks away, and the moment is gone.

later, when she’s fallen asleep on the couch, you sit beside her, watching the rise and fall of her chest. the lyrics to “idfc” play in your head like a cruel mantra: “tell me pretty lies, look me in my face, tell me that you love me even if it’s fake.”

you reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering for just a second too long. “i love you, billie,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of her breathing.

but she doesn’t hear you. and maybe that’s for the best. because no matter how much it hurts, you’ll keep pretending. you’ll keep being her best friend, her safe place, even if it kills you. because as much as you wish she could love you back, you’d rather have her like this than not at all.

and so you sit there, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you, and you let the tears fall silently, knowing that tomorrow, nothing will have changed.

#billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fic #billie eilish imagine

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ye4gerism · 20 hours ago

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𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 - 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

word count 1.6k

content warning SMUT. OKAY?! THE WHOLE SHABANG!! there’s a shower scene and aftercare at the end also black reader friendly

author’s note hello. so smut is not my forte and i’m practicing okay??? this is like my first full blown smut heavy oneshot. i really wanted to pick up on the engagement section of good luck, captain! and explore your wedding night with curly and also take a break from the angst😓 i’ve read this over like three thousand times - i hope it flows. requests are open as always!

synopsis takes place during good luck, captain! the only traditional part of your wedding is the after party. wink wink.

He waited patiently on the bed as you asked. It's been hours since you both went down to the courthouse for your elopement. Curly was a little apprehensive at first but after much conversation and realizing how much you both needed that privacy, he obliged.

Throughout the ceremony, he realized it did feel good - no dearest Mumsie to throw daggers at you or Jimmy frowning at the thought of you being his wife.

His wife. Mrs. Grant Curly. He liked that. Not that he was possessive but you really were his and as long as he's here, no one can or will have you.

Curly still wanted a traditional wedding night so he booked a honeymoon suite to celebrate. "Thank you for waiting." You emerge from the hotel bathroom in a two-piece lingerie set that he bought you for tonight - a lace babydoll top with a matching panty.

You get closer to him and he begins to stand. "You look great, lo-" You push him back onto the bed and his sentence ends with an "oof".

"Sit." You climb on top of him, sizing him up. "You know my favorite thing about you, Captain Grant Curly?" You cup his cheek before running your hand down to his collared shirt. "You're very very smart. How'd you know to book this room and buy me this really cute lingerie set?" You unbutton three buttons. "And you're so handsome. How did I get so lucky?" You move from his shirt to his right arm, feeling up his bicep. "I love it when you carry me and use all your strength...for all purposes."

He finishes unbuttoning the shirt for you. You open your mouth to say something else but you're caught off guard when he flips you over. Curly swings his legs over yours and hovers over your hips, unbuckling his belt and zipping his pants down. "You like my strength, huh?"

You're flushed. How many times have you done it with this guy? And how does he always know how to catch you off guard?

Curly gets off you so that he can actually get his clothes off. You sit up in bed, feeling shyer than ever, your confidence gone. He always knew how to take control and it began to settle in you that it might always be that way.

"Come here." He wraps his hands around your ankles and drags you closer to him, causing you to fall back and gasp. Curly gets on his knees and flips the skirt of your top as it's covering what he's really looking for.

You hear something ripping down there and then that gush of air finds you. You sit up immediately and push his face away with your foot. "Curly! You just bought this and you're ripping it? Are you mad?!"

He inches closer again and finishes what he started, completely ripping one side and slipping off the side that still holds. "Well," he pauses to lick your exposed bud, sending a shiver up your spine, "You know, I can always buy you more. We're doing this again, you know? We still have our wedding for the public with my Mumsie and your best friend, Jimmy."

Oh, you hated how he downplayed your conflict with both of those individuals.

"Please shut up. Don't talk about-" You let out an exhale as he starts to stroke his tongue against you. Your body falls back into the bed, arching from his actions. His hands move from your thighs to the sides of your belly, messaging it.

His last and first name become a mixed mantra and your hands find the bed sheet, soon gripping them.

The last thing you loved about Curly was his kindness (even if it was a pain in everyone's ass sometimes). He was never cruel in bed, he didn't bait and torture you for his own enjoyment and entertainment. He let you release, your back finding the comfort of the beds. Your chest rises heavily. A little bit of laughter escapes your lips.

He stands up and walks over to your unpacked suitcases. The feeling of his absence hits you. "Curly," you cry out.

"I'll be right over, my love." His promise is true; he walks over with a familiar bottle in hand. Curly applies some lube to his hands and rubs them together to warm up. He then holds himself and begins to stroke. By now you've caught your breath and sit up. You get on your knees, crawl towards him, and reach your hand out to his shaft which he swats away. "You don't want to-"

"No," he immediately answers. "Tonight's about you and besides, we have the rest of our lives together. Now, turn around."

You comply and immediately feel two of his fingers at your core. They go up and down your entrance and you whine. He takes this as a sign to slide both into you. You arch your back and look up at him with needy eyes. "I..." you try.

"You what, darling?" He picks up his pace, "You need me? Is that it?" Curly watches as you bite back a moan and ultimately fail. You allow your upper half to tumble into the bed and you huff into the sheets. Curly lowers himself again to let his tongue flicker at your nub while pumping his digits in and out of you.

You begin to say some incoherent nothings which lets him know you're ready to explode again. He pulls away cutting you off, in which you groan and lower your ass in response. Curly grabs you from under your hips and props you right up again. "Ass up, sweetheart. I'm not done with you yet."

He pokes himself against you. "Sorry for playing with you like that," he mutters, "Just don't want to hurt you...you know how this goes." A familiar stretch fills you, making you gasp. You exhale and whimper his name until it's muddled together. "I'll go slow, baby," he says quietly. He keeps his promise, really only moving the tip inside you. "I bet you're so happy we're married and living together now. You'll get used to this in no time." He slaps your ass, getting another moan out of you. "Luckiest girl in the world."

"Feeling comfortable, baby?" Curly asks after a while. He's massaging the lower half of your back. It takes you a moment to respond but after accessing the situation, you don't mind going a little faster. You muster up a "yes" and he gives you a "yes ma'am".

His hips slam into you. Your hand holds onto his arm, crying out his name, getting closer to your own climax. Curly loses his rhythm and eventually, you feel him twitching inside you. You come right after him.

You're both breathing heavily. Curly slowly pulls out of you and you lower your hips. You both take a moment and hold space for what just took place. Your husband gets in bed with you and smiles at your dazed face. You laugh in response. He cups your cheek and nuzzles against you before kissing your lips.

"That was great, Mrs. Curly," he finally says. "All thanks to you, Mr. Curly," you say back. You kiss again and again and again. Curly looks down at you and then back up. "We made quite the mess. Why don't get cleaned up and order some burgers like you wanted?" You nod. "Sounds like a plan."

"Let's get this off you then." Curly pulls at the strap of the babydoll top you have on. You sit up and he follows, soon removing the top from your torso.

"Here, I'll carry you." Curly gets off the bed and waits for you to scoot closer to him so he can lift you into his arms. He holds you bridal style, giving him a good look at your blissful face. "You're so strong," you say, "I'm so so lucky."

He carries you to the bathroom and sets you down in the tub, his hands lingering on your torso. "Can you stand?" he asks. You nod.

Curly turns on the shower and gets in with you. He closes the curtain and takes a moment to admire you and your body as if he's trying to memorize you. "My wife," he breathes. It makes you feel shy - the way he eats you up with his eyes. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to say that, especially to someone as perfect as you.”

He turns on the shower and pumps some soap in his hand and gestures for you to come closer. "I know you don't really do this but I just...I just want to be closer to you," Curly says quietly. "Turn around." His hand finds your waist and it guides you to the front of the shower. His hands sit on your wet shoulders before moving in circles to lather up. He massages your shoulders and you let your head hang back a bit.

You were grateful for this. His job with the Pony Express kept him far for a long time and you imagined all of his returns would mirror tonight. Along the line, you'd probably end up treating him, so you take advantage of this particular moment.

"I'm so happy it's you. I'd choose you every time - no matter the circumstances," he whispers in your ear.

After the shower, you’re both finally in warm clothes and settled on the sofa. Curly's dialing the number for dining.

"Babe," you whisper. He looks over at you, eyebrows raised. "Can you call the front desk after for new bed sheets and a blanket?"

He nods before turning his attention to the person on the other end of the line.

You stare at him with affection and gratitude. Gosh, you really really loved him. He wasn't perfect but he was sweet and he cared so much for you - and most importantly, he was all yours. You were ready for the perfect future ahead.

#captain curly #captain curly x reader #curly mouthwashing #curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader #curly x reader mouthwashing #mouthwashing #black reader #black yn

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leiascully · 3 days ago

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Fic: Cosmic Brownies At The Blood Center

1200 words; G for gentle gen fic; okay they're in love but they're not together so it's gen enough; sometimes @thursdayinspace dares you to write a fic so you do; tw: blood and needle mentions and a reference to the cancer arc (AO3)

“I really don’t see why we have to go through all of this.” Mulder shrugged out of his jacket.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Scully asked, not looking at all like she meant it.

A technician in scrubs approached, carrying a rack of vials and a bundled bag. “Sir, which arm?”

“The left,” Mulder said. The technician guided him to a reclined chair. He climbed into it and laid his arm on the broad armrest.

“Do you have an allergy to latex or iodine?” the technician asked, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm.

“No,” Mulder and Scully said simultaneously.

“Okay,” the technician said, looking very slightly taken aback. “Um, I’m going to swab your arm for thirty seconds.”

“Be my guest,” Mulder said.

“One of us ought to give blood,” Scully said. “And I can’t.”

“Don’t meet the criteria?” The technician put a rubber handle in Mulder’s hand and told him to squeeze it as she pumped up the cuff. Mulder obliged. “I told you you needed more than bee yogurt for lunch. We’ll get a nice greasy burger and fries after this, what do you say?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m ineligible because of the medications I’ve taken in the past few years.”

It was oblique enough as a reference to her cancer, but it still made him wince.

“Sorry,” the technician said, pressing what looked like a straw deeper into the tender skin inside his elbow. “Just marking your vein. Squeeze and hold?”

Scully’s cool fingers tangled briefly with Mulder’s, hidden on the other side of the chair, as the needle slid into his arm. The technician taped the tubing to his arm and sampled his blood into vials. It was cool in the room, and the contrast between the chilly hair and the heat of his own blood flowing through the tubing felt strange. Scully squeezed his hand and released it, taking a rolled up issue of a medical journal out of her pocket.

“Looks good,” the technician said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Yell if you need anything or if you start to feel faint.”

“Will do,” Mulder said. He turned to Scully, who was staring intently at her journal. “Here’s the thing, though, Scully: what if the Powers That Be Interfering decide to divert my blood on its way to the bank, thereby giving them access to my genetic material and allowing them to clone me or otherwise use my DNA for spurious purposes?”

“Mulder, what makes you think they don’t already have access to your genetic material?” She looked up. “Aside from the vast conspiracy that includes the cataloging of millions of individuals, including you and me, via vaccination campaigns, I’m sure you’ve left enough of it lying around to sample.”

“Very funny.” Mulder tapped a finger on the top of her journal as she tried to go back to it. “What about the various and sundry unknown maladies we’ve both contracted? Potentially alien viruses. Exotic bacteria. Radiation.”

“They’ll test your blood before they add it to the blood bank,” she said.

“For all that?” Mulder scoffed.

“Whoever gets your blood will also get any antibodies that might be lingering in it,” Scully mused. “It might actually have some protective effects. All the more reason you should schedule regular donations.”

“Is this my doctor’s advice?” Mulder asked.

“Not that you take my advice,” Scully said in a dry voice. She got up, circling the chair. “Looks like you’re almost finished here. Someone will be grateful for a pint of O negative.”

“Are you jealous that someone else is doing medical things to me?” Mulder teased.

“If I wanted your blood, I’d just take it,” Scully said. “It’s nice to outsource these responsibilities from time to time, when you’re not in mortal danger.”

“My life in your hands,” Mulder said softly.

Scully smiled at him. “Death can’t have you on my watch.” She checked the machine again. “Not that you’ll die from losing a pint of blood, a big healthy specimen like you.”

The machine beeped a cheery little tune. The technician came back, edging around Scully, unhooking Mulder from everything and bandaging his arm. She ran through a list of post-donation instructions, handing him a paper with the same information. “Don’t forget to have a snack and something to drink before you leave, okay? And stay for at least 15 minutes.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll make sure I don’t pass out.” Mulder swung his legs off the side of the chair and climbed down. Scully put a hand on his shoulder as he walked to the snack area and perused the offerings.

“Cosmic brownies,” he said, unwrapping one. “They sprang for the good stuff.”

Scully surveyed the snacks. “Personally, I’d go for the oatmeal creme pie.”

Mulder rolled his eyes. “Of course you would. And then you’d probably confess the indulgence.” He bit into his brownie.

Scully set a paper cup of water in front of him. “Drink this.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the burger,” Mulder said around a mouthful of brownie. “You promised.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Scully said, taking her journal issue out again as if he’d never interrupted her. “I just neglected to decline.”

“In a debate, failing to address the premise means you assent,” Mulder said, washing down another bite of brownie with the tepid tap water from Scully’s cup.

“We’re not debating,” Scully said, but her mouth quirked at the corner.

“Aren’t we?” Mulder asked.

She looked away, still with that secretive smile. “Mulder, you tease me for eating bee pollen, but excessive consumption of red meat is linked to an increased risk of certain cancers.”

“Then we won’t consume excessively,” Mulder countered. “Burgers today, salad tomorrow. After all we’ve been through, I think we’ve earned it.”

“You do need the calories,” Scully relented.

“Let’s face it, you were going to order a salad and steal half my fries anyway,” Mulder said.

“I never have,” Scully said, but now she was openly suppressing a grin. They both knew the truth.

“The results of my investigation say otherwise,” Mulder said. He downed the last of his water. “What d’you think, Doc, am I safe to re-enter society?”

Scully gave him a quick onceover, thumbing his hair out of his eyes and touching the back of her hand to his forehead. “As much as you ever are.”

He got up slowly. “I’ll take it.”

“I’m driving,” she said, and fished the keys out of his pocket.

“My life in your hands,” he said. “Again.” Maybe it was the blood loss that had his heart thudding. Maybe it was just her: against the dingy backdrop of the donation center, she was all chic competence and incisive blue eyes. The brownies weren't the only thing that was cosmic. Scully was spun from stardust, a glint of the divine in his shadowy life.

She flashed him a smile like sunshine. “I’ve gotten you this far.”

“To the end of the road,” he promised. “As long as that road ends with burgers.”

“I can make that happen,” she said, and it felt like a vow.

#leiascully fic #my fic #the xfiles fic

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starkeyvhs · 1 day ago

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edith’s 500 followers celebration!

thank you so so much for 500 AHHH 🥹🌟 I think cellys were one of my favorite things on my old blog and I miss doing them immensely, so I thought a 500 celly should be a great idea, especially cause I’m officially on break and I should be able to devote a lot of time to writing!! <3 thank you for all your immaculate support 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

starts: december 01, 2024 ends: december 10, 2024

navigation

EVENTS:

pyramids: give me a prompt from list a, list b, or list c and choose out of drew, rafe, zach, and I’ll write you a blurb/fic! if you feel like, you can also write a small storyline with your request if you are imagining a specific scenario with your requested prompt that you would love for me to write :) novacane: give me a concept and choose out of drew, rafe, zach and I’ll make a 9 picture moodboard inspired by it! ivy: get into my chat box and ask me anything from list a or list b! pretty sweet: (mutuals only) I’ll write you a sweet note/love letter because I love you deeply xx

BASIC RULES:

please be patient with me responding to the asks! I know I said I’m on break but I’m still not the fastest writer so I might take my time, especially with the asks for ‘pyramids’. do check my request guidelines first, so you have a general idea on what kind of content you can request/expect from me to post! and please only send one request per ask, but you can send as many asks as you feel like! and as always, be respectful and be kind :)

TAGGING:

I’m tagging my taglist and some of my mutuals; please don’t feel obliged to interact with it at any cost! <3

@runningfrom2am / @b1mb0slvt / @nemesyaaa / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @jjsbank444 / @ladyinbl00d / @nadvs / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr / @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mileyraes / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @khaisdrz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #zach maclaren #rafe cameron outer banks #zach maclaren the other zoey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #zach maclaren x reader #𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ edith's 500 followers celebration ꒷ ᵎᵎ #500 followers #500 followers celebration #𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ divider by ianrkives ꒷ ᵎᵎ

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revenantghost · 19 hours ago

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Hey, I’m just here to say you’re extremely missed and that, even though there’s probably not much I could say to make any of the bad things less awful, I’m hoping for an easier and gentler future for you soon. Take care, ok?

Oh man, thank you so much for sending this, and I'm sorry it's taken so long to respond (and to the other person who sent me an ask, too—I'm not sure when I'll get to it but please know it was seen and means so much). It has just been. So awful. I won't dump on the public at large everything that's happened, you don't need that novel, but it feels like every day life's falling apart more and more.

Just, seriously, thank you for sending this, and to the couple of people who checked in with chats (again, I'm sorry if I haven't responded yet, spoons are just very limited). There have been a lot of times throughout this where I get overwhelmed by everything going on and some truly horrific people I've met in the fandom and I've considered deleting everything permanently! Very often!!! Tbh I'm still struggling with that VERY intense urge while writing this. I feel so unsafe, and scared, and run down.

And tbh, it's really hard to believe anyone could care about me when I feel so awful and worthless, I feel like it must be an obligation, or I somehow accidentally manipulated people, but I'm trying to cling to that being the brain demons talking. Because I really appreciate the time and effort anyone's taken with me. And I really miss fandom and fun, even if it's weighed down with some significant trauma—I still love the stories and the characters and, most importantly, the amazing people I've met here. Outside of any fandom I've poked around in, the wonderful people I've met matter the most, and I'm trying to cling to that.

I really enjoy talking with everyone, running little projects/events, and for the first time in years actually writing again. (I've been slowly plucking away at that AU I mentioned a few times and I want to start posting for an event this month but! Ahhh!!!) I would like to try and be active again, and I'm so sorry for just being such an absolute goddamn mess. I feel like this is all too much to even say, but I do want to just be honest about all of it. Still, again, thank you so much for reaching out <3 And I'm sorry this is so ridiculously long even though I don't feel like I'm saying much and nothing important, I didn't intend for this answer to be a word-vomit update, just. Things suck, but you guys are good, and I hope things are as okay as you can be on your side of the screen <3

#Ask #shiromouse #Yadda yadda #I feel really bad for even saying all this honestly kasjndkasjdn #I'm really so sorry if this is too much #The guilt has been especially bad since I was... uh baited let's say #A very very bad incident #Done by a 'friend' in the fandom maybe about a year ago now #It's just been so hard to trust and feel okay and exist man #Because you can't forget #It makes it so hard to want to exist #And my house is falling apart my animals keep getting sick #I swear it's something new every day #ANYWAY time to stop rambling #I'm gonna try to restart the queue in the next few days I just still feel... overwhelmed #That's why I stopped it #I just couldn't stand existing #BUT YEAH #GOTTA STOP RAMBLING

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admirationandromantics · 3 days ago

Text

Going overboard, 3: Haunted

The thing you've all been waiting for, yippi. Still working on the epilogue, but I think it's coming together. Again, just as a reminder, my blog is 18+, and so is this post. Hope you guys enjoy, and get ready for the next chapter tomorrow. Requests are still open if you're wondering about something or wanting something new <3

❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀

He doesn’t waste time, and we both start basically eating each other’s faces. His hands roam my body, one settling on my breast. He squeezes, and I give a sweet moan in response. My body grows hotter, not that bothered by the cold anymore. He lifts me up on the sink, and I pull his body closer to mine using my thighs. I can feel his hardness through his pants, which only turns me more on, getting me wetter by the second. I tug at his jacket, and he undresses as quickly as possible, giving me full access to his toned chest. He starts kissing my neck, burying himself in me. I whimper in reply, scratching his back with my nails.

“We should take this to the bedroom” he purrs against my skin. I’m suddenly aware of the cold again, and I oblige. We make our way in, getting under the covers. He’s feeling me all over, before tugging at my pants, dragging them off and placing himself on top of me. Knee between my legs, he leans down, continuing kissing my collar and down to my breast. He bites, which makes a loud involuntary sound escape my lips. My hand flies to my mouth, feeling my hot cheeks on the edges. His arms travel under my back, getting the clasp of my bra open and ripping it off.

“Shhh, I want to hear you” he whispers, hand taking both of my wrists and putting them above my head. My nipples are already hard, but the cold air makes them harder. He takes one of my breasts in his hand, grabbing hard and pushing. He leans down, leaving sweet kisses everywhere, before biting me. I jolt again, and he immediately kisses the mark, soothing the pain. He keeps going, his hand wandering down to my underwear, cupping the wetness. He moves to my clit, rubbing sweet circles with his thumb. I whine, wanting to feel more of him, especially without the clothed barrier. The tension is building, and my core starts feeling needy. Too needy.

“Josh, please” I start, being interrupted by the involuntary sounds coming out of my mouth.

“I love when you say my name like that…”

He stands up, taking off his pants and underwear. He’s even bigger than I remember him. I keep looking at him, starstruck, and he snickers.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before” he says as he lays down on top of me again, dragging down my panties.

“Doesn’t mean I’ve fully comprehended it yet.”

“Oh, you will”

He runs two fingers over my soaked folds, putting them in with ease. A moan escapes me, and I put my hand over my mouth again, scared that the others will hear.

“Josh…”

“Don’t you dare” he whispers, taking my hand and placing it around him. I follow his curvations with my fingers, tracing every bit of him.

He starts pumping, rubbing my clit with his thumb and occasionally curling his fingers. He leans down, grabbing my thigh and leaving kisses. A knot starts to form inside my stomach as he marks my thighs.

“Fuck, I’m so clo-”

“Shhh” he says, pulling out his fingers. I’m breathing heavily, and a needy whimper leaves my throat as a cause of the lack of his warmth. I look over at him, and he’s getting down, shoving my thighs upon his shoulders. I’m already so ready for him, wanting to have him inside me.

“Josh, you don’t have t-” before I can finish, I feel a long lick over my folds. My breath hitches as I grab the sheets. His arms are placed on my hips, forcing me down on the mattress. He starts licking soft circles around my clit, making sure to put pressure where needed. My thighs automatically press together, but he pulls them apart with ease, holding them in their place so I don’t hurt him. I feel my core building up again, legs shaking around him. Even when he’s down there I can feel his smirk. I imagine how cocky he is, getting me to cum this quickly. My moans fill the room, and suddenly, two of his fingers glide into me, pumping at a steady pace. It takes me over the edge, and I feel myself finishing all over him. He continues his attack on me, making me ride out my orgasm on his fingers and mouth.

“God” I gasp, trying to get my breathing under control. He takes his fingers out, moving over me, face to face.

“That was definitely not God, hun. That was me” he whispers in a cocky tone, his signature smirk plastered on him. Despite being tired, I drag him up to me, kissing him. Tasting myself on his tongue. His hand glides over my stomach, spreading my juices all over me. He grabs hold of my breast, massaging harshly, the roughness sending pulsering jolts of pleasure through my veins.

“Really? You did that?” I tease back, making him laugh.

“If you don’t believe me, I suppose I’ll just have to do it again”

I laugh at him, body tired but his words make my heat start pooling again. He leans down, meeting my lips with his yet again. It’s not sloppy, not hungry, but rather romantically passionate. His hardness graces me, soaking up my juices before moving in. I interrupt the kiss with a gasp, surprised by him. The last time we did this, I did not feel like this. I was drunk, not being able to fully feel him. I grab ahold of his shoulders, steadying myself. He goes slow, getting it all the way in while I hold him tightly. One of my arms moves around his neck for support, and I feel his hot breath on my shoulder.

“You good?” he asks, locking eyes. I nod in reply. He starts moving, going at a steady pace. I can’t help the sounds coming out of me. Moaning as I hold on to him. His head rests in the crook of my neck, and he moves one hand down to my clit. The sounds he makes are getting me wetter by the second. He’s grunting, trying to kill the moans that escape his throat. Sloppy sounds are heard throughout the room as he pumps in and out of me. Between the occasional grunt, there’s a slight whimper, which makes my body grow hotter. My head dizzies as I’m nearing my second orgasm. He continues, kissing my neck as I come all over his cock. He doesn’t stop yet though, going faster and faster. Hot breaths moving down my chest. I whine, feeling the slight pain of overstimulation come over me. I like it, I love it, I love him.

“I’m gonna-” he yelps, keeping up the pace.

“Please” I plead, scratching his back as he pulls out, covering my stomach and breasts in white liquid. He collapses beside me, sweaty and breathless. I look over at him, using my hand to draw circles on his chest. He looks over, giving me the up-and-down before settling on my eyes.

“Gosh you’re beautiful” he sighs, leaning over and kissing me. I laugh.

“And you’re messy” I state.

“Can’t help it when it’s you”

He sits up, takes some paper out and cleans me up. Knowing it’s not coming off that easy he stands up and puts on his boxers, walking over to the bathroom again. When he comes back, he’s got a glass of water and warm cloth. I sit up, taking the water from him while he cleans me.

“You know, I can do it” I smile, trying to take the cloth from him.

“And miss a chance to touch you? No way”

I put the glass down, taking the cloth from him and putting it on the nightstand. As I turn around, he puts the blanket over us, letting me snuggle into him. I feel sleepy, and considering the time, it wouldn’t be wrong to go to bed. We would party tomorrow, as we would settle in.

“Are you cold?” he asks, stroking my hair.

“A little, but it’s okay”

“Want me to get a fire going?”

I look around, noticing a fireplace in the room. God these people are filthy rich.

“You have a fireplace in your room?” I turn to him, full of surprise.

“You never noticed before?”

“Nope”

“Too busy?”

“I guess” I laugh, holding on to him even harder, not wanting to let go. As I’m about to drift off a loud yell fills the lodge.

“Guys!”

We both sigh heavily. The night had apparently barely begun. We both get up, putting on our clothes and walking out. I tell him to go as I’ll go to the bathroom first. I fix my hair, combing through it with my fingers, as well as splash some cold water in my face.

***

I walk down to the others, noticing a ouija board laid out on the table.

“You guys got to be kidding me” I state, looking at it with contempt. Our friends went missing last year at this very place. This cannot be a good idea.

“Oh come on” Chris urges. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I sit down beside the others. A sinking feeling goes through me as I add my hand on the tablet.

“Ashley, since you’re a recent convert, why don’t you be our medium for today?”

Ashley looks up at him, then at me. I nod to her, anxiety starting to rise.

“Okay… Um, anyone there? Will you reveal yourself to us if you’re there?”

The pointer starts moving, and I immediately hold my breath. Chris gets excited, asking who’s moving it, but no one answers.

“It’s spelling something”

“What?”

“Are you moving it?”

“How’s this working?”

“H…E…L…P”

“Help?”

Chris looks over at Ashley who’s getting a bit scared herself. I can see she’s stressing, but I doubt Chris would want to end this now.

“How are we supposed to help?” she asks, waiting a few seconds before the pointer starts moving again.

“W…A…R…N”

“Shit”

“I…N…G”

“Warning?”

I look over at Josh, who seems like he’s not in a good place. He looks stressed, worried, and I consider taking hold of him and leaving, but that’s entirely up to him.

“I think we really need to find out who’s trying to communicate with us” Chris adds, looking over at Ashley once again.

“Are we sure we should continue?” I ask, starting to stress even more. Ashley looks at me, before looking down at the board again.

“We can’t help you if we don’t know who you are”

I breathe out, the pointer moving once again.

“S…I…S…T…E…R”

“Sister?” I look over at Josh, already getting angry. The others are doing this, they’re trying to fuck with him. It must be them. Josh starts breathing heavily, and I’m about to stand up when he starts.

“Whose sister?”

Chris looks over at him, then at me. “Oh, come on. Is this for real?”

“Shut up!” Josh interrupts him.

“Ask it whose sister.” Ashley looks worried over at him.

“Josh, it’s gotta be-”

“Yeah, okay, well. Which sister is it then?”

I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. This is not fun, this is fake.

“Ashley, ask who it is” Chris demands.

“Who are we speaking to, Hannah, is that you?”

The pointer immediately moves yoo ‘yes’. I breathe out, stressing.

“This is messed up” I whisper.

“Josh, are you-” Ashley starts, but Josh interrupts her.

“I’m fine”

“Are you sure because we can stop”

“We should stop” I add to her.

“No” he states.

“Dude, it’s cool-”

“I want to hear what it says”

“Okay, think about it, if this is actually Hannah, we can find out what really happened that night” Chris says, and I look over at Josh again.

“Josh” I start.

“I can handle it”

“Okay… Hannah, we miss you, and we want to know what happened to you that night. Can you tell us what happened?” Josh looks around, as if searching for something, and I feel bad, almost sick.

“B…E…”

“Betrayed”

“It’s still going!”

“K…I…L…L”

“Killed?”

Ashley freaks out, voice heightens as she speaks.

“No, no, we didn’t KILL them, it was just a prank!”

She’s shaking, and I can glimpse tears in the corner of her eyes. Chris looks over, putting his free hand on her thigh.

“Ash, calm down, okay? We just need to find out more”

“I’m sorry, guys, I’m so sorry!” she starts crying. Josh looks around again, breathing heavier as the panic sinks in.

“Ask what happened”

“Okay, Hannah, who killed you?”

“L…I…B…R”

“Library?”

“P…R…O…O”

“Proof”

“Proof in the library?”

Suddenly, the whole table starts shaking, and the pointer flies off it, landing on the ground some paces behind. We all shriek, standing up.

“Holy shit”

Josh slowly rises, shaking his head.

“You know what? No, this is bullshit, this isn’t real-”

“Josh, I don’t know what’s going on-”

“Listen… I don’t k-know if you think messing with me is somehow going to help me to deal with my grief or whatever, b-but this… This is not cool”

I hold out my arm to him, but he jumps away from my touch.

“Josh no! You wanted to use the spirit board”

“Hey Josh, calm down, it’s not Ash’s fault”

“I don’t need this right now”, he states as he makes his way out.

“Should we go after him?” Ashley asks, and I stand up.

“You guys are jerks, what the hell were you thinking?” I yell at them, walking away to catch up with Josh. I hear Ashley’s voice behind me.

“But we didn’t do anything!”

***

“Josh!” I shout, running to the stairs. I don’t know where he’s gone. He probably went to his room. A sigh of relief washes over me as I notice his bedroom door slightly open. I walk inside, seeing his fireplace going. I look around, but he’s not there. Before I’m about to walk out, the door shuts and I hear a slight ‘click’.

“What the fuck?” I whisper. Walking over to the door and grabbing the handle. It’ll not open, and the key is not on my side. I start slamming on the door. This can’t be Josh, he doesn’t seem like he’s in a state to be playing games right now?

“Hey! Chris, is that you? Open the fucking door!”

I look through the keyhole, making out something that looks like denim, and gloves?

“Hey!” I yell again, slamming the door harder. After five minutes, I realise it’s no use. I take a look around the room. The bed is still messy after Josh and I’s activities. I sit down, but am disappointed when the sheets are cold. They’d have to let me out after some time right? This was just another stupid prank. I open Josh’s dresser, thinking that if I’m going to stay here for a while, I might as well snoop. There are just clothes. Sweaters, flannels and denim pants. I pull some of them out, holding them up to the light. These are the clothes he wore last year. As I put them back, a shackling sound catches my attention. I press down on the clothing, feeling something hard underneath. I pick them up, seeing an orange pill box. I look at the stamp, not knowing what type of meds they are. He got these recently, about a month ago. And the box is still full? My anxiety rises, why isn’t he taking his medication? Is he getting better? Based on the ouija board accident, I doubt it. He seemed much more panicked than angry. As if he was having trouble breathing and starting to spiral. I get a bad feeling in my stomach, and I realise that I never did find Josh. He might be somewhere in the lodge, not knowing up and down.

I make my way to the door again, using my body to slam against it. It still doesn’t move. Fuck. I open the window, looking down. Luckily, there’s a fire ladder on the side, and I manage to open it. Suddenly, I hear screams, a faint voice calling for Ashley. What is going on? I open the window wider, and carefully make my way down. I jump down the last metre, landing softly in the snow. I really should have taken one of his shirts while I was up there. I make my way around, walking in the front door before running around.

“Chris, Ash, Josh?” I shout. I run down to the library, walking down the stairs and seeing Chris, knocked out, and laying still on the ground.

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