#but I want a friend who will freak out with me

[amirasainz]

So I read a lot of stories similar to my requests. But I just think you are the best author on tumblr, so I wanna ask you😅☺️

Secret marriage with Oscar. They married really young and the drivers reaction. She is always at the races, but just in the shadows. The only one that knows is Charles, because he is Oscars "dad" 😭😍

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Secret marriage

The F1 paddock buzzed with the usual energy and tension. The race weekend was in full swing, and every driver, mechanic, and team member was focused on the task ahead. It was Friday afternoon, and most of the drivers had just finished media sessions and were now lounging around in the driver's hospitality suite, swapping stories and strategies. Oscar was among them, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed expression.

Nearby, Lando noticed a familiar face in the crowd. A woman, sleek and stylish, with a British Vogue ID around her neck, had been lingering around Oscar’s side of the paddock all day, chatting with him occasionally before darting off to interview other drivers. Lando squinted, intrigued.

“Oi, Oscar,” Lando called out, leaning back in his seat. “Who's that Vogue chick? She’s been following you around like a shadow.”

Oscar glanced up from his phone, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Who, Y/N? She’s just here for work. We know each other pretty well.”

George, who overheard the conversation, raised an eyebrow. “Pretty well? Mate, you guys looked like you were practically whispering sweet nothings before she left the garage.”

Oscar shrugged, but his eyes glinted with mischief. “Maybe we were.”

Lando sat up, fully interested now. “Wait… what? Are you and Miss Vogue dating?”

Oscar chuckled, keeping his cool. “Not exactly.”

Pierre, catching onto the conversation, leaned forward. “Come on, spill the beans! There’s definitely something going on.”

Oscar finally sighed, looking up at his friends with an amused smirk. “Well… actually, Y/N and I… we’re married.”

The room fell silent.

George blinked. “You’re what?”

“Married,” Oscar repeated, his tone casual as ever. “Been married since we turned eighteen, actually.”

The explosion was immediate. Lando gasped, practically jumping out of his seat, while Pierre clapped a hand over his mouth in shock.

“No way!” Lando exclaimed. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Oscar nodded, barely reacting to the chaos unfolding around him. “Yep. Just never made a big deal out of it.”

“You’re telling me,” George said, his voice high-pitched with disbelief, “that you’ve been secretly married for… what? Three years now?”

“Three and a half, actually,” Oscar replied calmly, clearly enjoying their reactions. “We wanted to keep it private. Just worked out that way.”

Pierre looked like he was about to faint. “Mate, do you realize we never even knew you had a girlfriend, let alone a wife?”

Oscar gave a little shrug. “Guess I’m good at keeping secrets.”

George put his hands on his head. “I thought I was the reserved one around here! But this? Oscar, this is next level. How did we never catch on?”

Oscar chuckled, glancing over at Y/N, who was currently chatting with a journalist a few feet away. “She’s at most of the races. Just… behind the scenes.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Pierre muttered, shaking his head in amazement.

Just then, Charles strolled into the room, looking curious as he caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s everyone freaking out about?”

Lando grinned, looking ready to explode with excitement. “Charles, you’re not gonna believe this. Oscar’s married! Secretly married, since he was eighteen.”

Charles’s reaction was far more subdued. He simply nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Ah, yes. I know about Y/N.”

The room went silent again as every driver turned to gape at Charles.

“You knew?” George demanded, wide-eyed.

Charles gave them a smug shrug. “Of course. I’ve known for ages. I’m Oscar’s ‘dad,’ remember?” He winked, referencing the Monaco joke that had become a running gag between them. “It’s my job to know these things.”

Oscar snorted, smirking over at Charles. “Guess you can’t keep secrets from your ‘Monaco dad.’”

Lando threw his hands up in the air. “You’re all insane! Charles knows, Oscar’s been married for years, and we’ve all been left out!”

Pierre shook his head, still processing. “Wait, how did you find out, Charles?”

Charles leaned back, crossing his arms with a grin. “Oscar told me after our Monaco podium. Said he needed someone to know in case he ever needed advice. Before we went partying, I met Y/N and let me tell you, she is a lovely girl. And, you know, as his ‘father’ in the paddock, it was only a matter of time.” He gestured grandly, making everyone laugh.

George narrowed his eyes playfully. “So all this time, we could’ve been calling him ‘married man Oscar’ instead of ‘little Oscar’?”

Oscar rolled his eyes, amused. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a talking point. We wanted to keep things between us. Y/N’s work with Vogue keeps her busy and traveling too, so it worked out.”

Oscar turned his head towards Y/N, calling out softly with his arm outstretched. " Love, came here for a second, please."

Y/N approached just then, noticing the group staring at her with a mix of shock and admiration. “Is everything okay?”

Pierre looked at her, still in awe. “So… you two are really married?”

She glanced at Oscar with a smile, nodding. “Surprise?”

Lando leaned in, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “How have you kept this a secret all this time? You must have some insane spy-level skills.”

Y/N laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. We just wanted to enjoy it without all the attention.”

“Respect,” George said, tipping an imaginary hat to her. “You two might be the most low-key power couple I’ve ever seen.”

Charles looked proud, wrapping an arm around Oscar’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, shoving Charles off. “Alright, alright, let’s not make a big thing out of it.”

Lando looked at Oscar, eyes still gleaming. “Mate, this is a big thing! You’ve been living like some kind of undercover superhero. ‘Married Piastri’ is a whole new level of cool.”

Pierre nodded eagerly. “Right? It’s like finding out Clark Kent was Superman all along.”

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying his friends’ reactions. “Well, maybe now that you guys know, I’ll bring her around a bit more.”

Lando lit up. “Please! And maybe you can finally get that double date with George and Carmen going!”

George chuckled. “Right, because that’s exactly what we need. A bunch of drivers swapping marriage advice.”

Pierre smirked, nudging Oscar. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, you know. Now everyone’s gonna ask why we’re not secretly married.”

Oscar smirked back. “Hey, don’t blame me. You all had just as much chance to find out as Charles.”

As the group laughed, Y/N leaned into Oscar’s side, whispering, “Well, I guess the secret’s out.”

Oscar grinned, wrapping an arm around her. “Guess so. But I don’t mind. Not if it means we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Charles rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Now, can we get back to racing, or are you going to give us a honeymoon slideshow too?”

The group burst into laughter, and Oscar looked around, more comfortable than ever. His secret was out, but he couldn’t be happier to finally share it with his friends.

[krosiefics]

“what’s this?” • kim seungmin

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: Seungmin finds one of your smutty books and teases you about it to the point where you BOTH take advantage of the situation.

WC: 1.7k

Tags: smut, piv, unprotected sex (be safe), afab!reader, bsf!seungmin, dom!seungmin, sub!reader, degradation (whore, slut, filthy, minx), light dacryphilia, creampie, seungmin is a little mean, ass slapping, hair pulling, light system, biting, blowjob, talkative seungmin, prob forgetting some sorry :(

“Hey, what’s this?” You hear your best friend say from the living room as you grab a snack from the kitchen. “What’s what?” You roll your eyes at the vague question.

“This.” You glance up to see Seungmin with the most shit eating grin ever. Your eyes flicker over to the object he’s holding up, it’s a book…it was one of those books. “That’s nothing, so if you’d just-“ You laugh dryly, attempting to snatch the book out of Seungmin’s hand. But the brown haired man raises his arm above his head, flipping through some pages before letting out a chuckle.

“‘Oh god, fuck me harder-‘ what the fuck is this?!” Seungmin teased, the smirk on his face not faltering one bit. “Never took you to be such a freak.” He stated as he continued reading the pages.

“He felt as she clenched against his cock, throbbing inside her pussy.” Seungmin read off the page as your face turned a dark hue of red. “Min, give it to me.” You say sternly, his antics only fueling your embarrassment.

Seungmin squints at you before flipping back a few pages until he was satisfied with the scene taking place in the book. “He strides over to her, caging her body in his.” Seungmin read, his body moving closer to yours.

Your heart pounded as his arms caged you against the kitchen counter. “His eyes falling to her lips, licking them as if he were craving to taste her.” Seungmin’s eyes flickered to yours before shifting towards your lips, letting his tongue run along his lower lip.

It’s then that you realize that he’s reenacting the scene from the book. The start of a smut scene…with you.

Your cheeks couldn’t possibly be redder. Seungmin lets out a chuckle as he reads the next line, “He leans in connecting their lips together as one, moving passionately against one another.”

Seungmin glances back at you as he leans his face dangerously close to yours. You gulp as you notice his eyes flicker down to your lips once more. “Min,” You breath out shakily, hands flying to his biceps.

“You’re so dirty you know that? Getting turned on by me reading a erotic scene…you’re filthy.” You shut your eyes and bite your lip, praying that no sound pours from them at his sudden degradation.

“Oh and look at that, you really are a slut.”

“Fuck.” you groan, your thighs rubbing against each other instinctively. “Their tongues danced against each other as his hands wrapped around the curve of her ass, squeezing at the flesh.”

His hands followed what the book said, trailing along the dip of your back before gently cupping your ass. You stare up at him with anticipating eyes.

“What?” Seungmin tilts his head teasingly, “You want more?” You groan before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and connecting your lips. Seungmin almost jumped in shock, not expecting you to have actually kissed him. He thought that the borderline groping was gonna get him kicked out of your apartment.

Seungmin’s hands stabilize on your hips as your lips move against one another, teeth clashing and tongue gliding along. Grunting as he pushes his hips into yours. “You’re a little shit you know that?” You huff out against his wet, swollen lips.

“Says the person who has an erotic book.” Seungmin cocks his head to the side. You’re suddenly aware of the proximity between the two of your bodies. You bite your lip, yearning to connect his lips to yours once more. As if he read your mind, Seungmin cups your cheeks, licking at the bottom of your lip allowing entry.

Seungmin’s hands trail once more down the curve of your ass, gently massaging at the flesh there. You roll your hips into his with neediness as your tongues move along one another. “Shit,” Seungmin groans, his lips detaching from yours to rest his forehead against your shoulder. “You can’t just do that.”

You peer down at the previously arrogant, teasing boy in front of you, just see his ears bright red. You roll your hips once more to tease him, feeling his hardening cock beneath his slacks. A small groan left his mouth. “And you called me dirty for getting turned on.” You tsked. Seungmin huffed out a laugh.

His grip on your ass suddenly tightens, lifting you onto the counter. The cold marble counter, causing you to let out a shaky gasp. Seungmin takes the opportunity to kiss you once again, his hands smacking lightly at your ass.

He presses his erection into your crotch as he lazily humps into you. You bite your lower lip to stifle your moans, Seungmin notices. He brings his fingers up to your lips, parting them, allowing your sweet moans to slip from your mouth. “Let me hear you, yeah.”

“Can I?” He asked as his fingers trace along the hem of your pajama shorts. You’re quick to nod, wanting everything that your best friend is willing to give. Seungmin’s larger hands slip past the waistband of your shorts, helping you lift your hips to slide them off all the way. You don’t miss the way he stiffens at the sight of your soaked pussy that’s clinging against your panties.

”Shit, you’re such a fucking minx.” Seungmin sighed as he ran his hands up and down your thighs, “Pull this off for me.” Motioning to your shirt, you quickly understand his prompt, lifting it up and over your head. “Fuck, you’re such a slut you know that?”

You moan softly, rubbing your thighs together. You need friction. You need to be touched. You need his touch.

“Min please.” You plead, growing desperate for his touch. “What?” Seungmin cocks his brow at you, “Growing needy are you?” He simply tuts, shaking his head at you. “Min, I swear to God-“

”What?” He tilts his head, “Are you gonna beg for it?”

Frustration clouds your mind leading you to push him off your body, getting off the counter before gently- yet forcibly- pinning him against the counter. “I hate you.” You pout, nonetheless sinking to your knees in front of him. “You say as you’re about to suck my cock like a slut.” You playfully slap his thigh before unzipping his jeans.

You stare at his bulge in front of you. He’s big…not too big that you’d be scared of putting it in you, but just enough to wear it might sting. “Stop staring at it and put your pretty mouth to good use.” As you pull his boxers down, his cock springs out, standing proudly at your face.

Seungmin’s breath hitches as your lips trail kisses along the shaft, making your way to his tip. “Fuck,” A throaty groan pours from the brown haired boy’s mouth as you take him into your mouth. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth- taking me so well.” He grunts between shallow breaths, gripping a handful of your hair tightly.

You never thought Seungmin could be so vocal during sex…you were wrong.

Seungmin guides your head along the length of his cock by the grip of your hair. The slight sting only turning you on even more. Suddenly, he pulls you all the way on him; tip hitting the back of your throat as you gag around him. Your hands fly up to his thighs, patting them to notify him. Seungmin helps you off his cock with a pop.

“You okay?” His tone changes as he watches you cough excessively from the lack of oxygen. “Yeah.” You manage to say between breaths. You finally peer up at him after gathering yourself from almost suffocating on his cock. Seungmin gulps as he sees you teary eyes and wet eyelashes staring up at him in an almost innocent manner.

“Fucking hell.” Seungmin breathes out before raising you up from your knees and placing you on the counter once more. “Fuck, you’re so dirty you know that? I’m gonna fuck you so good, hm.” His rough hands rub along your inner thighs, trailing a bit higher with each passing second.

“God, please do.” You groan, instinctively separating your legs as he strokes himself. “You know the colors?” Seungmin cocks his head at you with a smirk, you eagerly nod in response. “Words.”

“Yes I know the col- oh my fuck!” You let out a moan as he, without warning, moves your panties to the side and rams himself into your throbbing cunt.

He roughly pushes your torso down, hand wrapping around your throat- not to the point where you're lacking oxygen, just a slight pressure. The sounds pouring from your mouth are almost pornographic. Wet squelching and skin against skin noises echoing throughout your kitchen. At the corner of your eye you notice the book that had been forgotten long ago.

Seungmin follows your gaze, with a free hand flipping a page. “God you’re so beautiful, sucking my cock inside your wet pussy.” You groan, though not out of pleasure, but for the fact that at one point you thought reading smutty books was better than experiencing it.

“Stop!” You gasped out, Seungmin glanced over to you and gave you a look, his grip on your neck loosening ever so slightly. “Yellow-“ He stops, “with the book! Keep going though.” Seungmin chuckles at you as he begins to pick up his speed.

“God you’re so beautiful. You know…I’ve liked you for a while.” Seungmin grunts into you, his hand leaving your throat and grasping at your hips to stabilize you. “Minnie- please stop…reading the book.”

“Not reading anything.” He stares at you, “I do like you.” Your body automatically clenches around him, that familiar knot in your stomach threatening to release. “Fuck Min, I like you too-“ Seungmin cuts you off abruptly with his lips. The feeling of both of your bodies together and knowing each other's feelings cause you to both spill over the edge.

Seungmin eased out of you, his warm cum slowly dripping out of your cunt. “Shit you’re so perfect.” Leaning in and placing a kiss on your lips before helping you off the counter.

“You fucked up my back.” You joke as the two of you laid on your bed after cleaning the mess you left in the kitchen. Seungmin raises his eyebrow at you, a small endearing smirk resting on his lips.

taglist: @katsukis1wife @pixie0627

[raysrambles]

on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

everytime i read this series i feel like im entering the battlefield 🚬😮‍💨my annotations below hehe ⬇️

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

ur writing has such PERSONALITY in it, i swear to god when i read this in beta, i was so in awe

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

this parallels perfectly to the first chapter where topper called rafe when reader was leaving, so not only is this paragraph giving us an at-point breakdown, but it's referring evidence that topper would slip and tell rafe

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

their lives are so intertwined that reader doesn't know who to turn to when she needs independence 😭 oh curse rafe and his big dick

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

this specific paragraph i wanted to highlight because i thought it was so descriptive and imaginative, but simplistic in a way that didn't feel like it was purple prose.

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

the last line EATS BITCH IT EATS

 “You should sit down.”

oh suck a dick

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

in love to hate omg

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

THIS IS SO COLD BUT IT SHOWED HOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS SO WELL, HOW INTERTWINED THEY ARE WITH ONE ANOTHER

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

i would crashout

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

hm.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

they're so toxic and dynamic and i love them

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

that stopped me cold i had to write something in my diary

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall.  "Yeah? Get in line."

LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I'M LISTENING TO BAD OMENS BY 5SOS AND IT'S AT THE BEATS AND WHILE I READ THIS, IT FITTED PERFECTLY OHMYGOD

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

i wanted to highlight this specific paragraph because i adore the writing, something about it made me feel every single atom of the scene

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”“And what?” you interrupted.“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”“You’re not coming in."He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

HE DIDN'T EXPECT THAT SHIT NO NO

“Yeah, I got someone.”

that's right baby tell em

💌 — ugh, something about this part has been so dynamic, in the way it's constructed, the way it flows so naturally, the way the dialogues are so emotionally-charged but bounces off one another seamlessly. it was like i was watching a perfectly-curated film, where the dialogues were performed by seasoned actors. i love love their arguments. i love how intense it always gets, how they have this push-pull against each other, this hate-love, this line they can't even comprehend nor define. and i love how you written it so beautifully, that you communicate the intensity and depth of this relationship but aggression, tension, and hurt.

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles Masterlist

1. Please Let Me Live || Vil Schoenheit

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think?

Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

2. Villain System vs World || Riddle Rosehearts

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading as the villainess, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

3. I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad || Lilia Vanrouge

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse as the heroine, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

4. Accidentally Falling for a Fae Prince || Malleus Draconia

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, as the heroine herself, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

5. Not Another Royal Mess || Azul Ashengrotto

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel as the villainess, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

6. Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles || Leona Kingscholar

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

7. I Want To Retire! || Idia Shroud

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it.

Now, as the villainess, you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

8. Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess.

So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport with the help of your fiancé, Jamil Viper.

9. Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked for after a freak accident and end up getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager.

As the villainess. It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

10. My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekai'd into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 weird consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

[aceyalonso]

F1 drivers if they were on the r/AITAH subreddit

drivers : oscar piastri, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, max verstappen, george russell, franco colapinto

warnings/notes : jos verstappen 🤮

a/n : i know i said i was on hiatus but c'mon this was such a fun idea

main masterlist | taglist form

So this might sound weird, but here goes. My girlfriend and I (both 23) love visiting new places, and she’s a big animal lover. She found this adorable cat café nearby and has been talking about going for weeks. I wasn’t as excited but figured it’d be fun to surprise her, so I booked us a spot and thought I’d try to make it extra special.

Here’s the thing: I wanted to be "that guy" who shows up with a bag of cat treats so all the cats would flock to us. It sounds ridiculous, but my goal was to make her day. When we got there, I pulled out the treats and instantly had a few cats’ attention. My girlfriend laughed, but within a few minutes, an employee came over, looking annoyed, and told me I couldn't give the cats treats from outside.

Apparently, they have specific diets or something, and I was "interfering." I apologized, put the treats away, and thought that was the end of it. But soon after, another employee came up, saying we were being "disruptive" because all the cats were lingering around us, and they even hinted we might need to leave if it didn’t stop. I hadn’t meant to cause a scene and told them it wasn’t a big deal—we’d stop and just hang out like everyone else. But by this point, my girlfriend was pretty embarrassed, and it killed the vibe of our day.

We left a bit earlier than planned, and now my girlfriend thinks it was a bit of a jerk move, even though she appreciated the effort. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or break the rules, just thought it’d be fun to make the cats a bit more social. But now I’m wondering if I messed up by not sticking to the café’s way of doing things.

So, AITAH?

Edit: I’ve learned my lesson. I will never underestimate the dietary regulations of a cat café ever again.

So, I (24M) have this bad habit of forgetting what’s in my fridge. A while ago, I bought some chicken, but I totally forgot about it, and it just sat there for months. I was cleaning out my fridge the other day and found the chicken at the back, and it still looked fine to me—didn’t smell bad, didn’t look weird—so I thought, "Why not? It’s still good."

I cooked it up, had a nice meal, and didn’t think much of it. But then, later that night, I told my mom about it (thinking she'd just laugh), and she completely freaked out. She went on this whole rant about food safety, salmonella, and how I could’ve poisoned myself. I was just like, "It tasted fine, mom, calm down."

She kept texting me all night asking if I felt okay, if I was getting any stomach pains, and even called a few of my friends to check in on me. Honestly, I’m fine—nothing happened, and I feel perfectly normal.

But now she’s upset with me, saying I’m being careless and that I should never eat food that old, even if it seems fine. I just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. I mean, people eat leftovers all the time, right? It wasn’t even that old.

So, AITAH for eating chicken that’s been in my fridge for 9 months and making my mom worry unnecessarily?

Edit: Just to clarify, I didn’t intentionally keep it for 9 months. I honestly just forgot about it in the back of the fridge. And no, I’m not sick. Everything’s fine. I promise I won’t be eating anything old again anytime soon!

I (27M) have a dog, Leo, who’s basically my best friend. He’s super friendly and well-behaved, and honestly, I just feel better when he’s around. I bring him everywhere I go – to cafes, parks, and friend gatherings. You name it, Leo’s there. Most people are fine with it because he’s adorable and loves everyone.

Recently, though, my friends have started making comments about it. Last weekend, we met up at this small, cozy café for brunch, and I brought Leo along. He just curled up next to my chair and didn’t bother anyone. But my friend Paul pulled me aside afterward and said it was kind of annoying that I kept bringing Leo without asking. He said not everyone wants a dog around all the time, and it’s “getting old.”

I don’t understand where this is coming from, especially since Leo’s never caused any problems. I figured since no one had said anything before, they were fine with it. Plus, I’m always careful to keep him out of people’s way, and he’s honestly better behaved than most dogs I know. I feel like they’re making a big deal out of nothing, but now I’m wondering if maybe I should have checked with everyone first.

So, AITAH for always bringing my dog? Should I have asked before assuming everyone was okay with it?

Edit: Just for context, Leo’s a small dog – not the type to jump on people or bark a lot. He just sits quietly and naps most of the time. Also, I’ve always cleaned up after him when necessary, so he hasn’t left any “souvenirs” for anyone to deal with.

So, I (39M) have this friend, Nico (also 39M), and we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re both super competitive by nature, and we tend to push each other a lot. Whether it’s video games, sports, or even something like mini-golf, everything somehow turns into a competition between us. It’s mostly just for fun… until recently.

A few weeks ago, we were at a friend’s birthday party, and they had one of those racing setups in the living room. Of course, Nico and I immediately challenged each other, and we both got really into it. I mean, I might’ve been trash-talking a bit (okay, maybe a lot), but we were both laughing, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Well, I ended up beating him by a fraction of a second, and I might’ve celebrated a bit too enthusiastically—think victory lap around the living room, calling him out in front of everyone, the whole deal. After that, Nico got pretty quiet and didn’t talk to me much for the rest of the night. Later, a mutual friend told me that Nico felt like I was “rubbing it in,” and it embarrassed him.

Now I feel bad. I honestly thought we were just having fun and didn’t realize he’d take it so personally. I tried to apologize, but he just brushed it off and hasn’t really been himself around me since.

So… AITAH for taking things a bit too far with my friend, or was it all just part of the usual friendly rivalry?

Edit: We’ve always had this kind of back-and-forth, so I’m not sure why this time it got to him. Just thought I’d get some outside perspective before I bring it up with him again.

Okay, I know this sounds insane, but hear me out. I (30M) love making pancakes, and I’m pretty proud of my recipe. It’s become sort of a tradition to make them for my family when I visit my parents. They’re always really nice about it and say they love them, but... I’m starting to think they’ve just been too polite.

A few weeks ago, I was at my parents’ house and decided to whip up a big batch of pancakes for breakfast. My mom and dad both had seconds, and I thought it was a win. But later that night, my mom started having really bad stomach pains. We took her to the hospital, and she ended up needing surgery for appendicitis. It was a scary experience, but thankfully, she’s okay now.

Here’s where it gets weirder. Just a few days after my mom came home from the hospital, my dad started having the same symptoms. At first, we joked that it was sympathy pains, but he ended up in the ER too, with the exact same issue—appendicitis.

Now my whole family is convinced it was my pancakes. I know logically that my cooking can’t cause appendicitis, but I can’t help but feel responsible because they both got sick right after eating my breakfast. My parents keep joking that they’re never eating my pancakes again, and my siblings have been giving me a hard time about it, saying I’m banned from the kitchen.

So, AITAH for giving both my parents appendicitis with my cooking, or am I just an unlucky chef?

Edit: Just to clarify, I don’t actually think I gave them appendicitis, but the timing is very suspicious, and now my parents are scared of my pancakes. I might need a new family recipe...

So, I (27M) have two cats (Jimmy & Sassy), and they’re pretty much my babies. They’re super affectionate with me but can be a bit picky about who they like. My dad (52M), on the other hand, isn’t exactly a "cat person." He’s more of the “why do you have pets that don’t do anything useful?” type, but he still visits often and tolerates them because he knows they’re important to me.

The other day, my dad came over, and as usual, my cats were lounging on the couch. He decided to sit down and give them a little nudge to move over, but instead of just shuffling away, one of my cats (Jimmy) swiped at his face. It wasn’t a deep scratch, but it was enough to leave a red mark and get my dad pretty annoyed. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because he was acting all grumpy about it, muttering something about "those spoiled cats."

He got even more annoyed when he saw me laughing and said I should discipline my cats better and not let them scratch people. I tried explaining that cats are territorial and react like that when they’re suddenly pushed, especially by someone they’re not used to. I offered him a band-aid, but he refused and ended up leaving earlier than planned.

Now my mom is telling me I should’ve been more sympathetic and that I should’ve scolded my cat instead of laughing. But honestly, I feel like it was just a normal cat reaction, and my dad knows how they can be. So now I’m wondering, AITAH for laughing when my cat scratched my dad’s face instead of taking it more seriously?

Edit: Just to clarify, my cats don’t usually attack people. They’re very cuddly with me and my friends, but my dad’s not around them enough for them to be comfortable. I’ll definitely make sure he approaches them differently next time... if he ever wants to come back!

So, this might sound a bit weird, but hear me out. I (26M) work at this company, and my boss, "Toto" (52M), and I have a really good relationship. We get along great, share a lot of common interests, and he’s been a bit of a mentor to me. We hang out outside of work sometimes, and every now and then, I’ll stay over at his place after we have dinner or watch a game, just because it’s more convenient.

Recently, my friends found out about this and started making fun of me, calling it “sleepovers” with my boss. I laughed it off at first, but they’ve started saying it’s kind of weird and unprofessional to be that close with your boss. They’re acting like I’m trying to suck up or get some kind of special treatment, but that’s honestly not the case. I just enjoy his company, and we have a good time hanging out.

The thing is, I never really mentioned it to my friends before because it just didn’t seem like a big deal. I figured if I told them, they’d blow it out of proportion (which is exactly what’s happening now). But now they’re saying it’s odd that I didn’t bring it up sooner and that it’s kind of strange to be having “sleepovers” with someone who’s technically in charge of me at work.

So, AITAH for not telling my friends that I sometimes crash at my boss’s place, or are they just overreacting?

Edit: For context, it’s not like I’m staying there every weekend or anything. It’s maybe once a month if we’re having a late night and it’s easier than going all the way back to my place. Plus, he’s got a massive guest room, so it’s not like I’m sleeping on the couch or something. It’s just a practical arrangement

Okay, so I (21M) have a bit of a problem, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even a problem or just something I can’t control. I’ve noticed lately that whenever I’m doing interviews or talking to reporters, I end up coming off as flirting with them, even though I’m not trying to at all.

I’m naturally a friendly person, and I like to joke around and be engaging. But I’ve had a few reporters (and even some photographers) tell me after interviews that I’ve been “charming” or “too smooth” with them. Some of them even hinted that I was “leading them on.” The thing is, I don’t even notice it happening. I just talk to them like I would anyone else, but apparently, I’m making it seem like I’m flirting—without even trying!

One reporter even gave me her number after an interview, and when I asked if she was just being friendly, she said, “You were a little more than friendly.” I was totally confused because I thought we were just having a good conversation about racing. Now I’m worried that I’m giving the wrong impression to people without meaning to, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make things uncomfortable.

So, AITAH for accidentally flirting with reporters and leading them on when I really don’t mean to? Should I tone down my "natural charm"?

Edit: Just to clarify, I’m not trying to flirt with anyone, reporter or not. I’m just being myself, but it seems like it’s coming off differently than I intended. It’s a bit awkward now, and I’m wondering if I should change how I interact in interviews.

taglist

@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

@livsturnioloo @lilorose25 @si1ver06 @zestytimbit @morgrinha

@callsignwidow

[noxiwrites]

Looking out for you

Summary; Rafe has the best intentions, despite not acting on them in the best way.

Warnings; mentions of sa, use of drugs (weed), angst, arguments, stalking, obsession, Rafe being nice, soft sweet sex with Rafe, fem oral, multiple orgasms.

You’re sat on your bed scrolling through Instagram when your door crashes open, a blinding mess of dirty blonde hair flying into your room.

You know immediately that it’s your brother, as he’s the only one who would fly into your room with no invitation- and your parents were away in Rome for the summer, leaving you and Topper to fend for yourselves.

Topper takes a seat on the edge of your bed, chest heaving like he’s just ran a marathon, cheeks flushed.

You perk an eyebrow, locking your phone and looking over at him. “What do you want Top?”

He raises a finger at you, other hand clasping his chest.

“Cmon Topper, I don’t have all day.”

He gulps, nodding his head before trying to talk.

“So I was at a party with Rafe and I stepped away for one second to answer Rhi’s phone call and when I came back he was fighting with JJ Maybank,” he pauses, swallowing. You sigh, not sure what this has to do with you, until he continues.

“I only overheard the end of the conversation but to sum it up they made a bet, about you. Who could sleep with you first- and I know that’s fucked but you’re my sister and I had to let you know so now you-”

“Wait, what? Fucking what?” You ask, incredulous. He nods his head, sharing the same confused face you’re sure you have.

“I don’t have anymore details, but now you know if either of them try anything.” He looks at you, finally able to breathe properly. “Don’t let them try anything, okay? Rafe is my best friend but he’s not a good guy.”

Your mind is racing with thoughts- JJ Maybank, a name that sounded familiar, but left a small distaste on your tongue. You couldn’t put on where you’d heard it from. And Rafe- Rafe fucking Cameron, your brothers best friend who you were absolutely sure hated you.

“Topper, what the fuck?” Is all you manage, and he nods his head again. “I know, I know it’s fucked and that fucking pogue better stay away otherwise I’ll beat his ass.”

You immediately connect the dots.

“What, as in thee pogue JJ? Sarah Cameron’s pogue friend?”

“Yep.”

When you were friends with Sarah, before she went off to be with those pogues, she had introduced you to them and you could remember one of them acting really weird around you. The more you thought, the more his name sounded familiar. It was the creepy one.

Your mind is racing and you groan, head falling back onto your head board. Men.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know Top. You can leave now.” He looks shocked for a second, before nodding, standing, and leaving your room, shutting the door behind him.

-

The next morning when you wake, and check your phone, you see a text message from your friend, Maddison. She’s invited you to a little shopping spree on the boardwalk, and who are you to say no?

You could do with some shopping.

It’s when you’re getting out of the shower and wrapping your towel around your body that you hear something clink in your room. You know your brother is out on his boat, as he is every Saturday- so who the fuck is in your room?

You grab your hairbrush off your sink, hoping it will suffice enough as a weapon and slowly open your bathroom door.

The person is stood at the other side of your room, back facing away from you as they look out the window.

It doesn’t take you even two seconds to throw the brush at them, it landing square in their back with a large thump, before falling to the floor.

“Get the fuck out! I’ve got more where that came from!” You tell, only hearing a chuckle in response. You recognise it from somewhere, but don’t put the voice to the face until they turn around.

Rafe Cameron.

“No because what the fuck are you doing in my room you freak?” You shout, gripping the edge of your towel tighter. He doesn’t move, almost drinking you in while in the towel and you suddenly feel more naked than ever.

You remember what your brother told you last night.

“Hey doll, lovely way to ask me how I am,” he chuckles again, fingers brushing against your bed as he looks up at you.

“No, I will not ask you how you are when you’re in my room without me allowing you to be,” you scoff. “So get the fuck out. Topper is on his boat if you need him.”

He smirks at you, moving around the edge of your bed.

“I’m not here for him, sweetheart. I’m here for you.” He moves closer to you and you take a few steps back into your bathroom.

“Look, I know about your stupid little bet with that creepy pogue. I want nothing to do with either of you so leave.” You tell him, voice faltering as he steps close enough to touch you.

Yes, Rafe Cameron was incredibly attractive. Beyond attractive. But that did not change the fact that you thought he was an absolute psychopath, him being in your room all the proof you needed.

“I’m not going anywhere until I explain to you. I knew Topper would run his mouth without telling you what actually happened.”

What actually happened? What could he possibly mean by that? When he made a bet about sleeping with you.

“How about you get dressed so I’m not so distracted and then I can tell you, yeah?”

You can’t lie to yourself, you’re intrigued. There’s a little tingle between your legs by the way he says he’s distracted by you but it disappears the second you remind yourself about the bet. You slowly nod your head and disappear behind the bathroom door, grabbing your dressing gown to cover yourself with.

Rafe is sat on your bed, mindlessly zoned out as he waits for you. You stand at the edge of it, arms crossed over your chest. “Explain.”

He smirks up at you, still eying you up despite the more covered choice of clothing.

“JJ Maybank has a very unhealthy obsession with you. To the point where I’m concerned for you. He’s a weirdo. He said he’s gonna be fucking you soon and you’ve been flirting with him.” You’re lost for words.

“I’ve never even spoken to him.” You say, voice small. You knew he was creepy but you didn’t think it went this far.

Rafe nods his head. “I told him to shut the fuck up because you’d never date anyone like him and that when he made this bet, and I agreed. I figured I’d come speak to you and get you to pretend we’ve had sex so he leaves you alone but topper got here first and ran his mouth.”

“We’ll, thank you Rafe but I can manage myself.” You say, holding your chin high.

He chuckles, again. “I don’t doubt that princess. He’s unhinged, that’s your issue.”

Your phone pings and you look down at it, to see that Madison has text you saying she’ll be setting off for you in five minutes.

You sigh. “Look, I’ve got plans. Can you just go? I really can’t be bothered with whatever you’re spewing and I’m not stupid. I won’t sleep with either of you.” He nods his head, jaw clenching and unclenching as he stands from your bed.

He towers way over you, one of his hands coming up to grip your chin. “You need to be careful, doll.” You immediately slap him away.

“Get the fuck out of my house. The only time you’re welcome here is if you’re with Topper.” His jaw is clenched again and he nods, pushing his hands into his pockets and walking out without saying another word.

Fucking hell. You grown out loud, hand coming up to run over your face. Fucking men.

-

“He said what?” Madi exclaims, almost knocking over her cocktail in the process of disbelief. You nod your head, taking a sip from your own as you lean closer to hear her in the crowded bar.

“It’s insane, isn’t it? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it myself,” you sigh, eyes searching the bar. It’s crowded, Friday night drinkers out in full force. You think you see a flash of messy blonde darting through the flocks of people, but the thought leaves your mind before it can even form.

“I mean, if Rafe Cameron were wanting to fuck me I wouldn’t say no,” madi giggles and you roll your eyes at her, wooing over someone who just isn’t that great.

“It’s not just that though Mad, it’s like he has some perverted older brother watch on me, as if he feels the need to fight my battles for me- and he’s yucky anyway. He’s slept with half the cut,”

Madi giggles again, twirling her straw in her drink. “Speaking of,” she blushes cherry and you follow her eyes to see Rafe stood at the bar, mouth moving but eyes locked on you. Your brother stands next to him, completely obvious to where Rafe’s attention actually is. He notices you looking right back at him and waves, cocky smirk on his features. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

Of course he’s here. You’d never admit that Rafe was hot, or that sometimes you had to close your thighs when he did that stupid smirk. No, never. Not even to madi.

“He’s so totally into you.” She gushes, grabbing your hand from across the table. You loved Madison, but sometimes she just didn’t get it. Rafe had been your brothers best friend since you were five, and you knew better than anyone that he was bad news. The more that you thought about it, the more it wound you up.

“Well I’m not into him, or JJ Maybank for the matter. They can both go to hell,” you mutter, seeing that same flash of blonde out of the corner of your eye. You clear your throat, excusing yourself to the toilet.

The bar that you’re in is notorious for having their toilets as far away as possible. It’s like they don’t want you to go. As you’re pushing open the ladies toilet door, something grips your bicep and you yelp, feeling yourself being pulled back.

“Rafe Cameron, really?” You immediately recognise JJ’s voice. It’s gravelly, a hint of anger laced in. “I thought we had something special,” he continues, fingernails gripping your bicep so tight you can feel the bruise already.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, let me go,” you demand. If there was one thing your dad taught you to do well, it was to defend yourself.

He scoffs, other hand reaching up to grip your chin. You wriggle, trying to escape his grip, to no avail.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you want me. Why sleep with him when he’s a psycho?” JJ asks, tightening his grip on your chin so you’re no choice but to look at him. You had to give him that, Rafe was a psycho. But not like this.

“You look like you’ve got seven std’s, JJ. I can assure you I do not want anything to do with you,” you snap back, ripping your arm out of his grip when he softens, obviously not expecting you to say that. You finally step back and begin a fast pace down the corridor- not making it very far before he’s grabbing you again.

“You’re so fucking spoilt- but goddamn, it’s hot. I could fuck you right here,” he’s pressing all up against you from behind, whispering in your ear. You grit your teeth and reel forward, hands clawing at his around your arm.

“I’d let go if I were you,” you grit and JJ laughs.

“You gonna slick Rafe on me? I don’t see him here. You’re mine,” he hums, hand sliding down your dress.

“If that had moves an inch you’re more than a dead man.” You hear, looking up to see Rafe Cameron charging towards the two of you. You’re unsure if you’re thankful or not.

“Here he comes, your little guard dog,” JJ huffs in your ear, hand sliding lower. You gather every ounce of strength in you and reel backwards, back of your head smashing into the front of his. JJ cries out, letting go of you and grasping his now bleeding nose.

Rafe looks surprised almost as he pulls you into his side, arm wrapping around your shoulders. This feels different, safer. You’re glad he’s here.

“You broke my nose you bitch,” JJ yells at you, crazy eyes meeting your own. Rafe laughs, almost pitiful at the scene.

“Be lucky I didn’t get my hands on you, Maybank. Now fuck off, before I change my mind.” JJ eyes you both, contemplating before eventually stepping past you.

“This isn’t over,” he comments, before disappearing round the corner. You finally breathe, shoulders wracking and shaking with what you realise are cries. This could have been a lot worse.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Rafe soothes you, rubbing circles into your back. He pretends not to notice how your dress is almost at your hips as he pulls it down for you.

“I’m just looking out for you, I promise,” he whispers. “You’ve seen what he’s like now. You know I’m just protecting you,”

You nod. You couldn’t imagine what would have happened had he not appeared when he had. You hated to admit it, but you were thankful for him being here afterall.

“Let’s get you home shall we? I’ll get topper to take Madison home.” All you can do is nod, gripping Rafe’s side for dear life as he leads you out of the bar.

-

“Here, we’re home,” rafe squeezes your thigh, where his hand has been the entire drive back to your house. You’re thankful he’s allowed you to sit in silence, you don’t think you’d have the words to talk.

Rafe jumps out of his truck, rushing round to your side to open the passenger door.

“I’m okay, Rafe, honestly. Thank you,” you pull yourself out of the seat, hand searching through your bag for your keys. Rafe follows slightly behind you, waiting for you to unlock the door before standing on the step.

You hesitate in the doorway. You could really do with not being alone right now. You’re not scared, or necessarily wound up over what’s just happened, but you’d appreciate the company. Whether it be Rafe Cameron or not.

“Do you wanna stay?” You rush out, turning to face him. He’s leaning against the doorframe in what you now notice as a blue knit sweater and some black pants, all of which fit him perfectly.

“Don’t have to ask me twice doll.” He grins, hand reaching out to squeeze your hip. It’s a nice feeling, and the blush on your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as he uses the grip on your hip to slide himself past you into the house.

You shut the door, locking it while thinking to yourself. You’re not sure if you’ll regret this or not, but that’s a problem for later.

“I’m gonna go get a bath I think, but you can make yourself at home in my room while I do,” you tell him, waking up the stairs. Rafe’s quick on your heels, constantly keeping close to you. You open your door to your room, flicking your lamp on that illuminates the room in a soft pink hue.

Rafe immediately kicks his shoes off and plops ontop of your sheets, grabbing the remote for your tv like he’s been here millions of times before. It feels comfortable, not a single ounce of awkwardness between the two of you. You kick your heels off and walk around to the other side of the bed, opening the bedside drawer. You reach in, taking a grinder and little tube of weed out.

Rafe whistles. “Who would’ve thought?” You raise an eyebrow, dropping some of the nuggets into your grinder and reaching into the draw for some papers.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you,” rafe grins at you as you giggle, rolling the weed into the paper and using your tongue to stick it down. You think Rafe is watching you in awe, but you’re not sure.

You finish off the joint, putting all the supplies back into the drawer and reaching for your lighter before shutting the drawer.

“Do you want some?” You ask, standing up and walking to your balcony door. Rafe nods and follows, taking a seat on the chair next to you. You spark the joint and take a long puff, sinking down into the chair.

You twirl the joint inbetween your fingers before offering it to Rafe, who takes it between his lips and takes a puff.

“What happened to the bath?” He asks, taking another puff before passing it back to you. You shrug.

“I remembered I had weed and that’s better.”

“Can’t argue,” Rafe responds, watching as your lips wrap around the joint. You can immediately feel it, all thanks to your dealer getting the best stuff.

“That was crazy,” you suddenly say, thinking out loud. Rafe agrees as you pass him the joint again, taking another puff. “Like? You said he was crazy but I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you for being there.” You ramble, grabbing the joint from him and taking another puff.

“He genuinely thought we were together you know,” you tell Rafe, passing him the joint again. It’s almost already gone.

“I told him that we were,” rafe says, handing you it back. “You can finish it sweetheart,”

“You told him we were together? I thought-” you stop mid sentence, unable to form any thoughts.

“I told him that so he’d back off. Obviously didn’t work, he’s lucky I wasn’t there sooner.” You can hear the anger in his voice. You take a final puff of the joint, dabbing it out on the table before flicking the end somewhere off the balcony.

You narrow your eyes, turning to Rafe. “Why do you care so much?” He turns to you, lax as anything as he speaks.

“Because I do, always have. I wish you’d believe me when I say so because I’m not lying. I care about you a lot.”

Your mind is running a thousand miles, unable to stop. “But you’re an arsehole,”

Rafe grins. “Ouch, that hurt, princess.” You clench your thighs together. He certainly has a way with words.

“You are though- you’ve never been nice to me,” you pout, resting your chin on your hand.

“Because I was scared.” He sighs, looking out at the night sky.

“Scared of what?” You ask, oblivious. If you weren’t high, it would’ve hit you like a ton of bricks by now.

Rafe laughs. “Scared of my feelings for you.” Oh. OH.

It’s like the brakes have finally begun to work. The car you’ve been driving skids to a halt, and it all finally makes sense. Rafe likes you.

Rafe Cameron likes you.

“I just can’t control myself around you, princess. I kept my distance in the beginning because I wasn’t a good person but I’ve changed. I can manage to be near you now without wanting to bend you over something for my own selfish reasons.” Your mouth is agape. Rafe finally looks at you.

“JJ Maybank claiming to have fucked the girl I’m so passionate about pissed me off. I wanted to rip his head off his shoulders. I thought telling him we’d fucked would be enough to keep him away.” There’s a pool of your arousal building in your panties, hearing him talk about you like this. If he’d have taken one look into the thoughts you’d had of him this would’ve been a different story a long time ago.

“I don’t want to fuck you for my own sake. I’ve been a selfish man in the past, but I do care about you. I wish you’d let me show you.” There’s a note in his tome that makes you realise he’s sincere.

You eventually find your voice. “Show me.”

Rafe’s eyes meet your own. “What?“

“Show me Rafe. I mean it.”

He’s leaning over the table in less than a second, grasping your head between his hands and capturing your mouth in a kiss. One of his thumbs swiped over your cheek and you let out a whimper, Rafe pulling the both of you up to stumble together on the balcony.

His lips leave yours and wander down your neck, hands wrapping round you and lifting you onto the table. You gasp, hands gripping his shoulders as he kisses down your neck.

“You’re on my mind all the time,” rafe whispers through kisses, working his way back up to your lips. He pulls you into a kiss again, pushing himself between your open legs. You feel his bulge press against your now weeping heat and you moan into his mouth, a sound he swallows right up. You’re slowly grinding against him, hands searching all over his back and his hand push your dress up over the curve of your thighs.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes drinking in every part of you. You’re thankful you decided to put your pink panties on today, as he seems specially transfixed on them and one of his fingers lingers at the edge.

“May I?” He asks, eyes searching yours. You nod, but that’s not enough for Rafe. He grips your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Words, princess, cmon.” You about cream just from his words.

“Please touch me Rafe,” you whimper, finding your voice. Rafe grins, hand lingering at the edge of your panties finally pulling them to the side to look at your cunt. His fingers toy with the edge of your panties, before slowly pushing through your folds with intent.

It’s so dirty, on your balcony where anyone could hear. “All wet, just for me huh? Seems like you wanted this too yeah?” He tells you, holding your chin down so you can watch his ministrations on you. It’s down right wrong, how hot this feels right now. You can feel yourself dripping onto his fingers as he pushes a solo digit into your hole, groaning as he does.

You reach forward to palm him through his pants but he stops you. “Ah, this is about you. I don’t give a shit about myself right now.” He slips another finger in, setting a steady pace as his lips find yours.

You find yourself grinding on his fingers, listening to the small bouts of praise Rafe gives you and the way his fingers set a faster pace.

“It feels so fucking good,” you moan, writhing ontop of the table. Rafe moves his thumb to circle your clit and it’s over for you, crying out as you spill onto his hand and relax onto his shoulder for support.

“Cmon doll, I wanna taste,” Rafe tells you, lifting you from the table and taking you inside. There’s some shitty reality tv playing in the background but you don’t care for it much as Rafe lowers you onto your bed, pushing your dress further up and pulling your panties down, throwing them somewhere in the room.

He wastes no time, lowering himself down to your still sopping cunt and diving straight in. You feel him everywhere all at once, hands darting down to his head in an effort to grip something.

You feel one of his long fingers prodding at your hole again and you welcome it with a whimper, nails scratching his head.

“You’re so fucking sweet, could stay here for hours,” you clench around his fingers and Rafe smirks.

“You like when I talk baby? Good girl, so wet for me.” He coos, lips attatching to your clit once more. You cry out, squirming as he gives you everything like he’s known your body for years. His free hand reaches up and pulls down your dress, grasping your nipple.

“Rafe, I’m so close,” you whine, thighs locking around his head. He slurps, pushing another finger into your cunt.

“Give it to me sweet girl, cmon. Make a mess for me.” He demands, curling his fingers inside you and it’s over again, your high crashing like a wave over you and Rafe takes everything you’re giving him.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he praises you as he comes up, nose, mouth and chin covered in your slick. You’re aware that the weed is heightening your senses, but you had no doubt that Rafe knew what he was doing.

“You think you can give me more?” He asks, fingers still toying with your cunt. You nod, absentmindedly- fucked from just the first two.

“Ah, cmon, use your words doll,” he’s hovering above you, eyes searching yours.

“Please Rafe, please fuck me.” He grins, hand leaving you as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

“Take your dress off for me sweetheart,” he tells you and you do as you’re told, revealing your pink lacy bra. “That too,” he points to it and you reach behind you, unclasping your bra and throwing it somewhere in the room.

When Rafe frees himself from his boxers, you’re shocked. He’s large. Massive even.

“Lay back for me, just like that. Good girl.” He praises you, hands all over your body Ashe captures your mouth in another kiss. You feel his tip push into your hole and you gasp, legs trying to close.

“Cmon sweetheart, let me take care of you yeah? Make you feel good.” Rafe grips the base of his cock as you open your legs, allowing him to slide in. You gasp, never having felt this full before. Rafe chuckles like he knows, and gives you a second before he begins a slow pace.

It’s so much. You can’t keep quiet, especially when Rafe puts his thumb on your clit again and begins whispering into your ear.

“So fucking tight, so good for me aren’t you,” you moan, whimpering yes back as he continues to fuck you starry.

“M’not gonna last long,” you cry, gripping his bicep. He nods, drawing tighter circles on your clit. It makes you mewl out, nails scraping down his back. Rafe groans, punctuating his thrust as you do.

“You’re all mine now, I’m gonna make sure you’re always looked after. Fuck, you feel so fucking good, cum for me.” He demands, and his words bring you right there. His next thrust is angled just right and you whine out, pussy clenching around his dick in a way that makes Rafe see stars.

It’s like you were made for him.

“Where do you want me to cum sweetheart?” He asks, and through heavy breaths, you tell him.

“Inside. Birth control.” That makes Rafe’s hips stutter, his release painting your walls as he finally stops, keeping his dick inside you. You’re both heaving, and Rafe can feel his cum and your own seeping out of you. He reaches over and grabs your chin, pulling you for a kiss.

“Meant it. You’re mine. Gonna take such good care of you.”

-

More one shots of this ?

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Damien Quotes

i want him to chuck a water bottle at me ♥︎

“You are a person that is overflowing with love to give, and that is not too much, that is fucking beautiful.”

“I’m not going to get mad, I just want to know who did this to you.”

“My fire is a part of me.”

“I can do good. That’s all I want to do. I want to help.”

“Now who whimpers?”

“Well if you four would stop teasing me, I could stop doing my best impression of a furnace.”

“I have never felt more flaccid in my entire life.”

“Oh, he thinks I’m funny when I’m mad? Huxley has no idea what I look like when I’m mad.”

“C’mon nature boy, let’s get natural.”

“Handsome man [he’s saying this with a :3 on his face you can’t convince me otherwise]”

“Huxley, I need you.”

“I want all this anger to mean something.”

“I can walk.”

“You’re always so gentle with me. With everything. I-I’m not used to that.”

“Body like yours needs a little worship, you know?”

“Yeah. I’m fine… I’m freaking out.”

“A-are you gonna serve, or what? [he’s too busy gawking at Huxley’s muscles to realise he’s holding the ball himself, not Hux]”

“The rolls aren’t aerodynamic enough. I can’t get enough speed behind them.”

“Huxley seems to think threats are a way I express love.”

“Who. Was. It?”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at screaming at walls.”

“You remember that positive outlook when you’re ripping out your happy trail trying to get dried cum out of it.”

“I spent a lot of nights thinking about all the stuff this body of yours could do.”

“Hey. I don’t just care about it as a morally wrong action for the sake of it. I care about you. You’re my friend. A good one. And my friend is hurting, and I can do something about it, so I’m going to.”

“You are the person I choose. And I’m so fucking grateful that you’ve chosen me.”

“He [Huxley] does make it hard to get mad at him, even when he is doing something asinine. It’s like trying to stay mad at a puppy. Just doesn’t feel right.”

“The bear’s cute… For the record though, you’re the only teddy bear I need.”

“I’m made of tough stuff too Hux… and I like it rough…”

“All I can think about is worshipping this incredible body of yours.”

“It’s all yours.”

“God I love how big your hands are.”

“I don’t whimper [proceeds to whimper]… only with you.”

“Pick me up. Turn us around. Press me into the wall. And fuck me.”

“Yeah we’ll see how great you think I look when I set your hair on fire.”

“Just because I usually want you to top, doesn’t mean I don’t love your ass.”

“I wanna feel every fucking inch of this monster.”

“Ugh I laid down on your cum and I’m pretty sure we’re glued together now.”

“All mine huh?”

“Huxley. Fuck me. I wanna cum with your cock buried inside me all the way to the base.”

“I’ll trade you goofballs.”

“Cute glasses.”

Honourable Mentions (Non-Canon)

“I’ve had friends before. I’ve never had a friend that I felt as close to as I do to you.”

“You feel good. Except your hair’s trying to go up my nose.”

“Fuck. God, you drive me crazy with just a touch. Just a look, honestly.”

“Now gimme.”

“If you wanna know which one I’d prefer, ask me. Directly.”

“Do you think this is what they meant when they say ‘Light a fire under your ass’?”

“Yes, I’d say my fire likes you very much.”

[marzipanandminutiae]

I hate how doing any kind of yarn craft basically means you can only produce plastic clothes or it's going to be 300$ in yarn minimum. Every yarn has some acrylic and the natural stuff is so wildly expensive. I would love to use 100% natural fibers but the options are limited

God, yeah. The price of natural-fiber materials is insane.

My average budget for like a full silk gown, trim and notions included, is around $200- and that's ONLY because I live near a discount fabric store that gets bolt-ends from big fashion houses and sells silk for like $10/yard. Wool is insane, for some reason- that place only has coating (heavyweight) and suiting (lighter but feels like plastic even though it's not), so making a dress or anything not outerwear from wool involves shopping online and some painful spending.

I just bought 6 yards of wool to make my Dream Dressing-Gown. It was $210 for JUST the wool- I still have to get lining fabric, possibly an embroidery machine pattern, embroidery thread (because my friend who's generously letting me use her machine only has polyester and rayon). Part of that was shipping from freaking Poland because finding a website that has non-stretch, dark green wool at any weight below "snow gear" in the States is nigh impossible.

(Or that actually discloses the weight in a meaningful way; that's another problem I've encountered. "Brushed wool!" Great, but how heavy is it? "It's wool!" Not helpful. It's like they can't fathom wanting to use wool for anything besides heavy outerwear. Which they probably can't, because that's all we're accustomed to seeing it as nowadays.)

Like I'm tempted to blame militant v*gans for the inaccessibility of silk and wool, but honestly, capitalism was probably just waiting for the excuse to turn all our clothes to crap. I doubt there's been enough outcry about them to push those fabrics out of reach, the way there has been for fur and leather (to clarify: pro-treating animals humanely, anti-plastic clothing, not opposed to the use of aforesaid materials if those animals are properly cared-for and humanely killed).

At least you can still find cotton and some linen things in stores- for now. They're still more expensive, though, and limited in what weaves are often seen. Cotton velvet, for example? Forget it.

It's so disturbing and frustrating.

[eatanorange]

marauders do the candy trauma salad trend since I JUST saw a fantastic one for pjo (highly encourage y'all to add your versions/to this pls I don't have solid hcs of everyone) (evan's is fully me projecting btw)(a lot of them are me projecting <3).

Upon completion I want to add up here n not just the tags that these do reference various traumas/bigotry so be careful and mind what headspace ur in n all that pls take care of urselves k thanks love u.

Sirius: Hi I'm sirius and every time my mother considered something I did 'impure', like experience joy or get sorted in to gryffindor, she took my mouth away! *momentary zone out from the horrors* I brought milk duds!

Barty: bazooka bubblegum. *vid cuts* I'm barty and I hate my dad for all of the reasons you can imagine and I think it would be fun if he blew up. good?

Lily: Hi I'm Lily and after I got sent to magic school, all emotional ties with my muggle sister, who regards me as a freak, and my mother, who was more sensitive to her side, were severed. They didn't tell me when my dad died. I brought 3 musketeers.

Remus: Hi I'm remus and I got bit by a werewolf when I was 5, then my dad offed himself because of it. I brought moon pies.

James: Hi I'm James and I fell into limerence with someone and incessantly pursued them for over a year in ways that were detrimental to both of our mental states. I was so public about it I don't even need to say who it was. My mother sat me down one day and said "was it something your father and I did, something we said, that convinced you you need to beg someone to love you? to let you show them love?" and that broke something in me. We're chill now though, and I have coping techniques that work for me while still allowing me to be my expressive self, so I brought mr. goodbars.

Peter: Hi I'm peter and my animagus is literally a rat. I brought sour patch kids.

Dorcas: Hi I'm dorcas and my pureblood parents will never say it to my face but they wanted me to be a boy. To compensate I was sure to always get top marks, be well liked, and experience gender dysphoria. I burnt out before our 5th year, and learning radical acceptance in the place of trying to guess unspoken rules saved my life. I brought smarties.

Regulus: Hi I'm regulus and in order to be sure my mother didn't assassinate my brother for running away, I stayed behind in the abusive household and eventually became a deatheater to keep my cover, hunting down one bald headed bitch's horcruxes until it literally almost killed me. I think it did kill me in some lives. and I brought the starburst.

Mary: Hi I'm Mary and due to blood supremacist bigots, I have to go to school with people who want me to die just for having the audacity to exist. The muggle world is also like this. The school I go to does not matter in this scenario. I brought mentos for the salad and a bottle of soda for the show.

Evan: Hi I'm evan and my ex went on holiday to another country for 3 months, told me we could write to stay connected, they didn't, broke up with me via owl while still on said vacation, and then came to talk to me in person about that, denied that it was an active choice to disconnect from me, then tried to put the onus of any friendship to follow on just me. We haven't spoken since. Also I'm a sex positive, but also trauma affected ace, it was an open relationship, and they somehow still managed to be shady/inconsiderate about hooking up with someone on the vacation. I brought blow pops.

Pandora: Hi I'm pandora and sometimes I get prophetic dreams so vivid I can't tell when I wake up. Sometimes, though the future is not stagnant, I see my friends die :) I brought airheads.

Marlene: Hi I'm marlene and I have 5 brothers. 3 of them accept my nonbinary identity. The rest, and my parents, blatantly ignore that I use they/them pronouns. Then they told me if I don't have children as an adult I won't be worth visiting because it's my job as a pureblood to produce an heir. So I went to St. Mungos and got sterilized. I brought baby ruth candy.

Hope you enjoy! and thanks if you read them all! This was fun for me.

[godbirdart]

Bill 29: The Fairness and Safety in Sport Act

Danielle Smith and the United Conservative Party are being creepy weird about children again and since this also directly targets people like me [trans people] I have opted to skip the niceties cut scene and get right down to choosing violence.

Seriously, I cannot be the only person weirded out over how creepily obsessed Danielle Smith and the United Conservative Party are over trans people. They talk more about trans people than anything else. Just in October they pushed out three anti-trans bills - the above included. For what? There's MAYBE 2000 trans kids out of the 800,000 students in the whole province. It's pretty damn insane they're trying to legalize gender checks on children at all.

Ofc, some people are waving it off saying "No! It's just for the trans kids!! >:C". Nah mate. If your kid is a slight bit too effeminate or masculine or just plainly doesn't fit the Gender Roles, you bet their ass is getting reported by faculty members acting in bad faith. Hope you aren't aiming for sport scholarships in college / university👍

Some people are also whining about trans people having "athletic advantages" again so lemme say here: I have cis friends who played girl's rugby in high school. They were VERY capable of decimating the boys. If your cis kid can't measure up against a trans kid, that's just a straight up skill issue. get good maybe? lmao

This ain't the time to take the moral high road. If Danielle Smith and the United Conservative Party want to throw the tiny 0.3% of Albertans under the bus in the name of snatching authority over kids' bodily autonomy, then yeah I Will stoop to their level and be a dick about it because that shit is unhinged freak behavior. They keep saying trans people are out to get their kids but girl... the call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE

[gothamite-rambler]

Lex pt 2

Lex (in the middle of a long, boring story): I had Superman on the ropes. I could've killed him, but then freaking Batman ruined things!

Bruce (staring into his coffee cup): Tragic loss.

Lex: Right! I almost had him and then that jerk stepped in, but wait let me go back to what led up to that. You know, before Batman stepped in.

Bruce: Mm-hm.

Bruce stayed focused on his black coffee as Lex continued to drone on about this past incident, which Bruce didn’t believe, mainly because he was there as Batman. Lex didn’t almost kill Superman; he had kryptonite that Batman was able to swipe away quickly. Currently, though, he wasn’t Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce (in his head): I'm so tired... I only got an hour of sleep. Younger me could keep going on forty-five minutes, but now I can barely focus. Is Lex still talking, he repeated this story once already?

Lex (continuing to ramble): I hired a good lawyer, though, and those charges were dropped! Great, right?

Bruce: Fantastic. Want to discuss another story about yourself?

Lex smiled, feeling this was an appreciation of him, when in reality, Bruce would rather be anywhere else at the moment but was too checked out to leave.

Clark (calling from a distance): Bruce?

Clark visited Gotham to search for Bruce, needing his aid for a plan involving Lex, who was currently in the middle of scheme in Metropolis. He wasn’t expecting his buddy to be out for coffee. Lex, thankfully unaware of who Clark Kent really was, had no idea why the reporter from Metropolis was in the fancier part of town.

Lex: Bruce, there’s a crazy person calling for you!

Bruce glanced behind his shoulder, then returned to staring into the dark liquid.

Bruce: That’s a friend of mine.

Clark heard Bruce say that and smiled happily.

Lex: A poor guy is your friend? As a joke or something?

Clark, having overheard what Lex said next, changed his smile to a stoic expression. He wasn’t surprised that even in civilian clothes, Lex couldn’t resist being a jerk to the middle class or poor. Clark made it to the table where Lex eyed him suspiciously while Bruce wondered what the graining specks in his coffee were.

Clark Kent (stammering): Bruce… Wh-Why is that random guy with you at this place?

Lex Luthor (rude): Random? That’s rich coming from you. Oh wait, you’re not rich either; I can tell. To spare my friend the stress, I’ll order you kindly to leave.

Clark clenched his fists tightly, staying next to Bruce and preparing to pull him away.

Clark: I’m here to see my best buddy! I was visiting Gotham to... get lunch with him at a good restaurant, not this fake French cuisine with tiny food and expensive prices.

Lex smirked, resting his arms on the table.

Lex: That was a long-winded way of saying you’re poor and taking him to a gross fast food joint.

Clark: Well, Bruce would disagree. He likes cheap and simple foods, right Bruce?

Bruce hummed while taking a long sip from his coffee, the bitter taste refreshing on his tongue as he felt his mind become less weary. Bruce raised an index finger as he downed the entire fancy clear mug of his black coffee.

Lex (judgmental glare): He’s ignoring you. Take that as a hint.

Clark: No, he’s tired and needs a minute.

With a playful smack, Clark tapped Bruce on the back of the head as Bruce placed the empty glass back on the saucer.

Bruce: All right, that tasted bitter. Just how I like my coffee. Clark, when did you get here?

Lex (chuckling): Oh, ouch! He wasn’t even aware you were near him. That’s what you get for hitting him. Who do you think you are?

Clark: More important to him than you, isn’t that right, Bruce?

Bruce (shrugging): I mean, I’d rather be at work.

Lex (oblivious): Bruce, I get it. This nuisance is bothering you. I’ve seen him in Metropolis. He’s just a paperboy.

Clark (shocked): Paperboy?!

Bruce (correcting): He’s a reporter and journalist at the Daily Planet.

Clark: That’s right!

Lex (laughing): A reporter? That’s hilarious. The fact that he thinks he’s friends with you is even funnier. I thought you bottom feeders were supposed to be good at research and noticing the obvious.

Bruce eyed Clark warily but remained silent since this wasn’t his villain.

Lex: Bruce, pal, what did you tell him? I need to know so I can use it on another poor person.

Bruce: We’re actually friends; there’s nothing deceitful about it.

Clark: Aww, thanks Bruce.

Lex scoffed, remaining doubtful about this, which only made Clark angrier.

Clark (tight smile): The crazy thing is, I recognize you. Lexie, was it? Insane billionaire, arrested numerous times but always walks away because of your money… Superman has beaten you to a pulp how many times? Lost count. Bruce, you know how many times he lost?

Bruce (dryly): I stopped counting after fifty.

Lex (clenching his jaw): Okay, my name is Lex. Lex Luthor, and the charges were dropped.

Clark (sarcastic): Yeah, daddy’s money does that for you.

Bruce cleared his throat, visibly annoyed.

Clark (stumbling over his words): Not—Not you, buddy. You haven’t committed serious crimes and then walked away because you threw money at the problem.

Lex: Okay, but he’s bailed his son out of jail a lot. Sorry, Bruce, just needed to prove a point.

Bruce shrugged, getting up to get another cup of coffee. Clark and Lex waited for a few seconds, silently judging the other man.

Clark (speaking first): I have to admit, though, Lex, you look less crazed and disheveled than you did in that mugshot where you got arrested for punching a yacht captain. Impressive, did you make sure to buy out the shirts they're selling of your mugshot on the front?

Lex: He told me he’d kick me off the ship when I did nothing wrong! And yes, I'm fighting for a copyright on the shirts! That's my money!

Bruce sat back down at the table with a new cup of coffee and took another sip.

Bruce: I’m going to take this with me.

Bruce poured the rest of the contents into a travel mug he brought with him, causing Lex to look on in shock.

Lex: He got that from you, Cline? Only poor people take leftover coffee with them!

Clark (gritted teeth): My name is Clark.

Lex (smirking): Paperboy, don’t you have a sensationalist, false story to write?

Clark: Hey, we fact-check all our sources! That was only in the '60s!

Bruce stared at his carrot cake, pondering if he should’ve gotten a different flavor.

Bruce: I should’ve gotten the strawberry cake. This is too dry.

Lex (glaring at Clark): I’m not sure what he told you, poor man, but he probably just said that you were friends to be nice. So I’m going to say this one last time: leave.

Clark clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Bruce sighed, standing up with his travel mug.

Bruce: Clark clearly needs me for something urgent, Alexander. My apologies, but I have to talk to him before he says or does something he regrets.

Clark gulped, holding his head down.

Bruce: We can meet up in three weeks.

Lex shrugged.

Lex: Works for me; we can discuss that merger you were interested in.

Bruce (shaking his head): I wasn’t, but put that in the back of your mind for next time. Clark, go the other way.

Clark (smugly): I will. Have the day you deserve, Alexander.

Lex: You call me Lex!

Clark walked off, smiling. Bruce raised his coffee as a sign of goodbye to Lex and followed behind Clark. Lex crossed his arms, perplexed at one thing and assuming the two were out of earshot.

Lex: Bruce is a strange man, but is he friends with that guy because he’s lonely? Geez, I have to find some middle-class people he can be around.

Clark groaned, unfortunately overhearing what Lex said.

Bruce: He’s talking about us?

Clark: Yes... I hate that guy. When were you going to tell me you were talking to that asshole? Is this like Arthur? What does he have that I don’t?

Bruce: Oh my God, for the last time, Arthur and I are friends. Get over it. With Lex, we got stuck in an elevator during a business trip. He kept rambling about the dumbest shit and blaming everyone for his crimes, but he assumed me barely responding meant I wanted to be his friend. He hasn't left me alone since.

Clark (nodding): That sounds about Lex.

Bruce chuckled, agreeing.

Bruce: Yep, today he caught me when I was tired and offered to buy me coffee. I couldn’t say no; it’s free coffee.

Clark (gently patting Bruce on the back): Also fair. Freaking Lex, trying to steal my best buddy.

Bruce: I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this. What did you actually visit for?

Clark (serious): Well, bad news... Lex is after Batman this time, and I thought you should know.

Bruce (concerned): How did you find this out?

Clark: A reporter has his ways of finding out because I'm a credible one. Not one that spreads false news!

Bruce: We are not even near him anymore; calm down. We can discuss the rest of this at the manor.

Clark: Perfect.

Clark placed his arm on Bruce’s shoulder, but the man sidestepped away, not in the mood.

pt 1

[starchaseriseverything]

You can’t hold me here, Mother!”

“I am your mother, Regina!” Walburga yells back. “You will listen to me!”

“I can leave any time I want!” Regina yells. “Sirius and Andromeda did! So why can’t I!?”

“You have no one to go to, Regina.” Walburga walks up to her. “Absolutely no one. No one cares about you. Not even I.”

“Fuck you, Mother . I hate you.” She sneers. “I will always hate you. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”

Walburga smacks her daughter’s cheek. “I can and will.” Regina holds her cheek and runs up the stairs. She slams her door and locks it so her mother can’t get in. She flops down on her bed and stares at the letter sitting on the desk. She hasn’t read it yet, but she knows if she wants closer, she’ll have to. She stands up and sits down in the chair, gently grabbing the letter and slowly opening it. The first word she reads is, Regulus. Regina takes a shaky inhale and starts reading the whole letter.

Regulus, you can get away. You can run from that house. I did and I made it. You can, too. Andy and Uncle Alphard made it. It’s time for you to get out of there, too, Reggie. And I know mother still calls you by your deadname. That’s not right, Reg. You have been going by Regulus since you were twelve and it’s time you get away from people who still call you Regina. I know James would love to see or even hear about you living your best life, even if it’s not with him.

Either way, just tell me what you’re feeling. If you don’t want to run, that’s fine. You still have me to talk to. But if you do run, Effie and Monty have a room for you and your friends are waiting here for you, too. They wait by the door or even sleep in your room sometimes waiting for you, and even if they don’t admit it, they miss you and want you out of that house just like they got out of theirs. I know they’d be happy if you just ran and didn’t stop running until you decided to call someplace home, even if that wasn’t with them. So, just, please, get out of there and live your best life whether that’s with us or without us, it doesn’t matter, just get out of there.

Love, your brother, Sirius

Regina smiles at the letter and stands up and grabs a suitcase from her closet and starts shoving clothes in it. Which is weird because she’s a neat freak and hates when things are all messy, especially when people just throw stuff, but her brother is right, it’s time she gets out of that house and away from her parents. So, instead of weeping in her room all day, she decided to get out of there, forever.

She runs down the stairs with her suitcase in hand and just runs, runs right out the door and doesn’t stop until she finds someplace hidden. She then pulls out her wand and apparates where she’s been many times, The Potter residence.

She smiles at the door before ringing the doorbell and putting her wand away. An older lady answers the door. “Hello. I don’t think we were expecting anyone today.” She backs up. “Come. Come in.” She then walks to the steps and yells, “Kids! Were you expecting anyone today!?”

“No, Mum!” A boy yells back and Regina closes her eyes, recognizing it immediately, James’s voice.

The older woman hums and turns back to her. “Well, then, what is your name?”

“Regi- Regulus. Regulus Black.”

The woman gasps. “Oh my. Should I call Sirius down? Or Barty? Or any of your other friends?”

Regulus shakes his head. “No. I think I'll surprise them.” Regulus sets his suitcase down by the door. “Just a quick question.”

Effie stops and turns around. “What is it dear?”

“How many of my friends are here? Living here?”

Effie hums and starts counting on her fingers. “Well, there’s Lily, Dorcas, Barty, Pandora, Evan, Sirius, Remus, Emma, Aurora, and my son, James.”

“Why do you let everyone live here?”

“Because it’s the nice thing to do and that’s just how my parents taught me.” Effie chuckles a little. “Well, not this nice, but that’s just how I am and how I raised James to be. Some people don’t have good homes like James does, so they need someplace to live or even stay for a few days and that’s what I give them. A place to stay or one to live. Most choose to live but some, like Peter and Alice and Frank, they choose to stay for the summer or a few days because they have nice homes and would miss their family too much. It’s just what this family does, sweetheart, and I hope you get to be a part of that.”

Regulus smiles. “I hope so too.”

“So, I need to make another bedroom?”

Regulus nods. “Yeah, I’m living.”

***

“My sweet,” Regulus says, lovingly. “We are not having another child.”

“But-”

“Three is enough.”

James sighs and flops down in the chair behind him. “I think we should.” He mumbles.

“No.” Regulus replies, sternly.

“Why can’t we-”

“It’s not your body, now is it?”

James’s face falls and he leans his head on his hand. “You know-”

“No, James.”

“Fine!” James groans. “I won’t put another baby inside you.”

“Good.”

“Guess that means we can never do the fun stuff again.”

Regulus’s head whips up from his book. “What?” James looks to the other side of him. “James,”

“What?” He asks, turning his head back to him. “What is it, love?” Regulus opens his mouth but closes it again. He doesn’t even know what to say to that. James sighs and stands up to stretch. “Well, better get to bed.”

“James, It’s ten.”

“So?”

“AM.”

“So?”

“It’s still morning.”

“So?”

“You just woke up.”

“So?”

“You are not going to bed, James.”

“Are you bossing me around?”

Regulus nods and goes back to his book. “Yep.”

“You said I can't do that.”

“That’s you.”

“So, it’s different when you do it?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

James hums and walks towards his husband. “Really?” Regulus hears the change in his voice and gulps. Regulus nods back, not being able to get anything out. James takes Regulus’s book and sets it on the stand beside him. When Regulus doesn’t look up, James guides his head up to his. “How is it different?” He whispers.

Regulus gulps again. “It just is.”

James hums and nods. “Yeah?”

Regulus nods. “Yeah.”

“Papa! Daddy!” Euphemia screams, running towards them. James straightens up quickly and looks over to their daughter.

“What, dulce chica?”

“Can we go to the park?” The black-haired girl asks, jumping up and down in excitement.

James looks over to Regulus, he shrugs in return. James looks back to the girl. “Of course. Go tell your brother and sister to get ready.” Mia smiles and runs off, yelling for her siblings. James chuckles and turns back to Regulus. “We can’t ever have any peace, can we?”

Regulus shakes his head at his husband. James leans down and kisses his lips before walking down the hallway to make sure they’re ready in time.

***

Regulus laughs as both him and James lift up their daughter that’s in between them and she squeals. Leo’s walking beside Regulus and holding his other hand while their oldest daughter is walking beside James. Regulus looks in front of them to a woman approaching them. Regulus inhales a breath when he realizes who it is. Walburga.

She glares at the two before looking at the three kids next to them. She bends down in front of the girl in between them and smiles. “Hi.” She says as James tries to hold their daughter back but she just pulls his hand to make him stop. She’s still holding onto her fathers hand when Walburga speaks again. “What’s your name?”

“Euphemia. But Papa and Daddy call me Mia.”

She smiles at the young girl. “Hello, Mia.” She turns to the young boy by Regulus’s side after glaring at the man holding onto his hand still. “What’s your name?”

“Leo.” He mumbles softly.

“Hi, Leo.” Finally, she glares at James then turns to the red-haired girl beside him. “What’s your name?”

Rose holds up her hand in front of her father and he takes it, putting their entwined hands beside them. “Papa said not to talk to strangers.” Rose mumbles.

“But I’m not a stranger.” The older woman says. “Your parents aren’t doing anything to tear you away, are they?” Rose shakes her head. “So, what’s your name?”

“Rose.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m Walburga, but you can call me Wally.”

“Wally?” Euphemia asks, giggling.

Walburga smiles at the girl.

“Isn’t Wally who grandma always talks about?” Rose asks, looking up to her father. James looks down at her.

“I wouldn’t know. Your grandma doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that.” She looks over to her dad this time. Regulus doesn’t answer, still in shock. Rose turns back to the lady as Mia and Leo laugh. She made them laugh. Regulus thinks. She made my kids laugh.

Regulus snaps out of his daze. “Come on, let’s go to the park.”

“But, I wanna stay.” Leo whines.

“Let’s go see Aunt Lily and Aunt Pandora, then.”

“Eclipse and Luna?” Mia asks, looking up to her dad.

Regulus nods. “And Harry, Lillian, and Lewis.”

Euphemia jumps up and down and pulls her fathers down the sidewalk past Regulus’s mother. Regulus looks back to her as they pass. She smiles at him and turns around to walk away. Regulus turns his head back in front of him. She smiled? What kind of sick bitch smiles?

-

Walburga kept a straight face throughout the whole funeral for her husband. She didn’t cry once because ‘Black’s don’t cry’, at least that’s what her mother always said. So, she hasn’t cried since she was seven. She didn’t want to get crucio’d again. She didn’t even cry when she married Orion, her cousin, when she wanted to marry someone else. They were even talking about their future together when her mother brought up her engagement. Her engagement that was set from the time she was born. The one where she couldn’t get out of it even if she tried. And oh did she try, but her mother always brought her back, time and time again every time.

Euphemia was the love of her life and she couldn’t ever marry her. Ever. So, instead of telling her about the engagement that was set before she was born, she decided to just break it off. And it wasn’t the best way to go about it, either. They had a horrible fight over something she can’t even remember now. Probably something stupid, maybe something important. Walburga couldn’t remember even if she tried.

A few months after their break up in Hogwarts, she was dating a Gryffindor. A Gryffindor that's nice and generous, unlike her, he’s perfect for her. She’s kind and generous and so much more. He doesn’t deserve her and neither did she. After Hogwarts walburga got an invitation to a wedding, one called ‘The Potter Wedding’. Walburga rolls her eyes at the ridiculous name. (Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous) Potter always was like that, one for stupid things. But I guess there’s two Potter’s now. She thinks.

Walburga was surprised by the invitation, not because Effie remembered her, but because she wanted her there. Walburga sighs and slouches in the arm chair, dropping the invitation on the floor as she pulls her hand to her forehead and holds up her head with it.

She can’t go. She never could. She can’t be associated with a blood-traitor, but Salzar does she wish she could. She wishes she cried then, but she didn’t not for years after that. The first time she cried since seven was when Sirius left. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to accept her daughter as the heir, it was because she wishes her daughter went with her son. To get away from this family even though she couldn’t. She was happy one child didn’t turn out like her and she knows her children talked about not turning into her.

She wishes she could’ve stayed with her promise. The one where she promised her brothers to not turn out like their parents, but instead, she did, and so did her youngest brother. The middle brother, though, he got out just like her niece and son. That was the first night she cried over her brother, her niece, her son, and her daughter all in one go.

The second time Walburga cried was when Regina left right after their argument. Their argument that was supposed to be a simple conversation in which Walburga subtly nudged her to leave the house, but turned into a full-blown argument. At least she left. Walburga thought.

So, when Walburga was walking in the park one day and sees someone who looks exactly like her daughter, she realizes her daughter isn’t her daughter, they’re her son. Walburga smiles and about walks away to cry, but sees the smile on her son's face as he lifts up a girl with another man. The little girl laughs and gets set back on the ground. Her son is holding a little boy’s hand and the other man is trying to get the other girl to hold his other hand.

She decides to walk up to them, but doesn’t show her smile. She’s gotten good at that over the years, having to hide her excitement and discomfort. She couldn’t when she was with Effie, though. She always brought out the emotions in her. All of them.

She glares at the two men, not wanting to show them she actually cares and squats down in front of the girl and smiles. “Hi.” She says. “What’s your name?”

“Euphemia. But Papa and Daddy call me Mia.”

Named after her grandmother. Walburga thinks. She smiles again at the young girl. “Hello, Mia.” She turns to the young boy by Regulus’s side after glaring at the man holding onto his hand still. “What’s your name?”

“Leo.” He mumbles softly.

“Hi, Leo.” Finally, she glares at the other man, not wanting to reveal she cares, then turns to the red-haired girl beside him. “What’s your name?”

The red-haired girl reaches her hand up to her fathers to hold hands. He does and puts them at their sides. “Papa said not to talk to strangers.” Rose mumbles.

“But I’m not a stranger.” She is, but her son isn’t doing anything. “Your parents aren’t doing anything to tear you away, are they?” Rose shakes her head. “So, what’s your name?”

“Rose.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m Walburga, but you can call me Wally.”

“Wally?” Euphemia asks, giggling.

Walburga smiles at the girl.

“Isn’t Wally who grandma always talks about?” Rose asks, looking up to her father. Walburga looks up also. The man looks down at her.

“I wouldn’t know. Your grandma doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that.”

“Mia, Leo.” Their heads go over to her and away from the other conversation. “Why did the scarecrow win an award?” She asks.

“Why?” Leo asks.

“Because he was outstanding in his field.” The two kids laugh at the joke that their grandmother taught her and it’s stayed in her head ever since sixth year.

“Come on, let’s go to the park.” Walburga's son says. Walburga nods and stands up, understanding that he’s trying to get his kids away from her.

“But, I wanna stay.” Leo whines.

“Let’s go see Aunt Lily and Aunt Pandora, then.”

“Eclipse and Luna?” Mia asks, looking up to her dad.

He nods. “And Harry, Lillian, and Lewis.”

Euphemia jumps up and down and pulls her fathers down the sidewalk past her. Walburga sees them walking away and then her son's head turns to her. She smiles at him, hoping he gets the message that she still cares no matter what. She then walks away, not wanting to disturb them anymore than she already has.

She closes her eyes as she leans against her front door, slides down, and sobs on the floor.

[planetpedri]

Ansu fati who has a big ass crush on reader but thinks it’s not reciprocated, and the rest of team teasing him about it cuz it’s obvious they are both whipped for each other

Pluto projector — Ansu Fati.

Pairing: Ansu Fati x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone seems to know about Ansu’s crush on you, but you. The problem was, you felt the same, but he couldn’t see that.

Word count: 775+

Disclaimer/s: Teasing , banter , fluff !

A/N: Bea will posts her reqs in her drafts and not get insecure about her writing… bea will post her reqs in her drafts and not get insecure about her writing.. also why’d i lowk make gavi get abused that’s my bad

Ansu watched you carefully from across the room. You had been helping Taia set up the table, focused on the forks that couldn’t seem to sit straight on the table. Subconsciously, his lips formed a small, endearing smile. You’d always been a perfectionist about the little things.

“Look at the dude.” Gavi quipped, “his eyes on her and suddenly he’s dead to the rest of the world.”

Ansu blinked, his head snapping in the direction of his friends. “What?”

“Yeah, you heard me.” The brunette laughs, “or, well, maybe you didn’t since—“

Rolling his eyes, Ansu straightens his posture. “I heard you just fine.” His body language screamed defensive. Gavi was right after all. The second Ansu had zeroed in on you, his friend’s conversations had fallen on deaf ears.

Raphinha chuckles, “Man, just go talk to her. You look like a freak gawking at her all the time. She’s your friend too, you are allowed to converse with her.”

This coming from the man Ansu witnessed stumbling over his own words when he talked to Taia before they started dating was ironic. Before he could point that out though, your head had whipped in the group’s direction.

“Hey! Somebody come tell me if this is fucking straight or not, please?” The slight irritation at your predicament, had Ansu forcing himself not to smile.

You made him feel foolish over the littlest of things.

“Go ahead Ansu.” Pedri grins, “not like you’d be engaging in conversation anyways.” He adds, just to annoy the boy.

Flipping Pedri off, Ansu stands from his seat and makes his way over to you. You offer him a grateful smile, tugging on his sleeve so he could stand right where you used to be.

“Okay, let me know your thoughts.”

Taking his time, definitely not because your hand was lingering on his arm, he examines the forks position. “Looks straight to me.”

“Are you lying?” You huff, your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at the fork intently.

“I would never lie to you.” Ansu assures you, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks. Only a few feet away, Gavi tips back in his chair, groaning.

It was so painfully obvious how absolutely whipped for each other you were, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Oh get a fucking room.” He laughs.

Both of you freeze, your heads snapping in his direction to scowl at Gavi. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Geez! Tough crowd.”

“Anyways..” You trail off.

“Sorry, the kid can’t keep his mouth shut.” Ansu chuckles, “but yeah, the fork looks perfectly straight to me.”

You nod, “okay. Okay. Thank you.” You pat his arm and move to the other side of the table to place more forks down and Ansu returns to his seat.

When he passes Gavi, he lightly swats the side of the boys head, eliciting a yelp from him. “Ay!? Not my fault you two clearly were flirting, when will you just, oh I dunno, admit it?” He says through a hiss.

“She..” Ansu clamps his mouth shut, “you’re reading into things too much.”

“Nuh-uh.” Alejandro, who’d been quietly observing, pipes in. “That’s exactly how I acted around the first girl I liked. Admit it bro, you like her. She definitely likes you.”

“You don’t know what.” Ansu shakes his head, his attention returning to watch you. Were they right? Was he just oblivious? Had that lingering touch meant anything? God, he wanted it to.

“You never know until you try.” Raphinha says, patting the boy’s shoulder. “I think you should go for it, all jokes aside.”

“Jokes aside but—Hey!” Gavi whips his head in Fermín’s direction, rubbing the arm that his friend had just flicked. “Why am I being targeted?”

“You’re not helping.” Fermín laughs, “we’re supposed to be encouraging him, not teasing the poor kid.”

“Kid?” Ansu blinks, “I’m literally—“

“So, ask her out tonight?” Fermín interrupts, “or we tell her for you?”

Ansu’s mouth drops open, “I thought you were supposed to be on my side?”

“Sorry, Gavi is right. It’s a bit painful.”

Letting out a long defeated exhale, Ansu rolls his eyes. “I’ll think about it. Give me a week.”

“A day.”

“After our next match?”

“Two days, at the maximum.”

Groaning, Ansu waves dismissively. “Fine. Two days. Give me two days!”

Gavi pats his friend’s knee, “Good luck.” He didn’t say it as a sarcastic remark, but genuinely. “It’ll all go just fine, I promise!”

Now, Ansu really had zoned out of the conversation. He was too lost in thoughts about how exactly he was going to confess. Great. What had he gotten himself into?

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future ansu related posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[fourteenpigs]

Finally pushed through making a shitty intro.

Hi im FlerbGerp (call me Flerb or any nickname u think of), I’m an artist (😭) and shit poster who mostly (currently on 11/9/24) draws stuff related to Invader Zim or my own ocs because those are like my biggest obsessions rn and i even have pending AUs to post about ^_^!!

If ur my mutual u should consider being my friend… (please) I’m real friendly and can talk a lot if u want to talk a lot :P IM SO FUCKING ANNOYING THOUGH OH MYGOD BE WARNED BE WARNEDDDD,,, but anyways I’m into animation, cartoons (I don’t watch a lot though, idk..) and creativity of all kinds ^_^,,.. if you like any of the photos I put up above then u should totally stop by and say hi I probably won’t bite.

I couldn’t really bother to add other images to list all of my interests but here’s some more:

Lord of the flies, LPS, MLP, ENA, the outsiders, JTHM,chowder, the misadventures of flapjack, furries,etc…(not in order)

Some more music: Srgt. Moon, RUMBLERSGGA,diabarha,snails house, rabbit junk,celldweller,Atari teenage riot,super heaven, Bh6w,Leroy,ginger, etc… (I have yet to listen to more of some of these artists music🙀)

Some musicks..

Uhhhh social media,, I only have 3 platforms.. Pinterest,tumblr and YouTube but tumblr is my main thing I use and can chat with but if u wanna be friends but don’t wanna use tumblr, ur gonna have to let me know what I should use to talk to you (and don’t say discord or spacehey.)

FOR MY MUTUALS: please! If u want to be friends please let me know..,, I’m quite fond of you guys but I’m shy but maybe (NOT GARUNTEED7) one day I will reach out first if I get brave…

^me and my moots

⚠️also I’m terribly ill errored awful stinky and poop, be warned…⚠️

[darkmagyk]

63 mistaken for a couple. 77. Percabeth, of course.

77) In Vino Veritas

Thank you to @phykios for the inspiration!

Annabeth was an affectionate drunk. This was a well-known fact. Strawberry wine on a Summer night at camp. Mead during a Yule Feast, or Downeast when the Pats were in the playoffs. Annabeth became cuddly and smiley, and would tell people she loved them about 15 times a minute.

Piper knew that, and should probably had considered it before her friend had downed so many dirty martinis. Drunk Annabeth was fine for a normal girl’s night. But this was not just a normal girl’s night. It had evolved, from dinner to dancing to a lesbian bar where Annabeth swore she’d wingman Piper.

But now, 3 martinis deep, she keep hugging Piper, laying her had on Piper, kissing Piper’s cheek. Every time someone approached them, she was not effusive in her praise, telling everyone about how Piper was pretty and funny and fun. It was not having the effect she probably expected.

The first time a hot woman had come up and told Piper that her girlfriend was cute, she’d kind of laughed about it. The fifth time, she started to get worried.

“Are you and your girlfriend poly?” Ari, who had a sleeve abstract tattoos and an eyebrow ring, asked, nodding to Annabeth, who had just left Piper’s side to go back to the bar and probably get started on another martini, when this one inevitably flopped, Piper should head to the bar and ask the bar tender to just give her olive brine going forward. Annabeth wouldn’t mind that at all.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Piper said. Just in time for Annabeth to come back and throw and arm around Piper’s shoulders.

“She’s amazing,” Annabeth announced.

“Does she know that?” Ari asked, “I think you two have a lot to talk about.” And then nodded to Piper and walked away.

“Oh no,” Annabeth said. “You’re too good for her.”

Piper sighed, “What are the chances we have sex tonight?” Piper asked, thought she knew the answer.

Annabeth stepped back, like she’d been pushed, “What? I’m married.” She said, “You were at my wedding.” She said it like it was a reminder, like she was confused Piper had forgotten. “And you are very pretty, and very funny, and very nice. But Percy is prettier, and funnier, and nicer.” She reached out and patted at Piper’s head, not unlike how Piper had seen Annabeth do to her daughters, “you’ll find someone though. I know it. You’re wonderful.”

“Well, I want some pussy tonight, so I’m going to need you to stop scaring them off.”

“How could I scare them off? I keep talking about how great you are and how much I love you.”

“I’m calling Percy,” Piper said as her only answer.

Annabeth’s eyes lit up at his name “Oh, yes! You need to call Percy. I miss him so much. He would have fun with us.”

Piper wasn’t sure what Percy’s reaction to a lesbian bar would be. Given details Annabeth had shared in the past, probably just swapping tips for cunnilingus.

She dropped Annabeth off at the bar, and ordered her a martini glass full of brine and olives that she knew would keep Annabeth busy.

And then she called Percy, “Hey, she’s kind of drunk, can you come get her?”

“Is she ok?” He was clearly freaked out.

“She’s fine.” Piper said, “but she’s drunk and cuddly and its scaring off all the hot honeys in the bar.”

“Hot honeys?”

“Can you just come get her.”

“Let me see if Frederick can come watch the kids. He probably will.”

15 minutes later she got a text that said “On my way.” In that time, Annabeth had announced to a set of truly beautiful butches that she loved Piper and was so glad they met.

He could not get there soon enough.

Piper had managed to chill Annabeth’s declarations, mostly by way of a bowl of olives and plate of mozzarella sticks occupying her mouth instead of Annabeth driving away all the women Piper might be able to bring home tonight.

Where are you? Percy finally texted her.

And then it was about 30 seconds before she spotted him from the bar. Piper tapped Annabeth’s shoulder, and then pointed at Percy.

She let out a screech, and then ran to him, practically jumping on him. Percy caught her easily, and his own grin grew. Piper could tell that Annabeth was still eating, but she also pressed her lips to his.

And then hands started to wonder.

“Hi,” Piper turned to fine Ari back, looking at them, “Um…so you two really weren’t together?”

“Nope,” Piper said, “That’s what she looks like when she’s actually into someone.”

“Can I get you a drink.”

Piper glanced back at Percy and Annabeth, she saw one of his hands disappearing up and one down. She wondered if she should intervene, tell them to take their heterosexuality home. But figured they would figure it out. Or they wouldn’t.

“I would love that.”