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itneverendshere · 9 hours ago

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you get why this was my favorite chapter to write so far 🙂‍↕️ there’s just something about trying to make rafe a “relatable” yet still insanely crazy character 🤭 i loooove thinking about how he would act in certain scenarios, despite this not being 100% canon. and the sarah interactions with him and reader were just the cherry on top of the cake tbh 👀

love you to the moon and back!!! thank you for blessing me with your crazy good feedback 🫂💓

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

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

Rafe had been clean for the past three years.

Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing.

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.

It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours.

Until Ward died.

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty.

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect.

To Rafe, that meant something. Everything.

Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.

At first, you were there for him, no question.

He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.

You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around.

After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.

For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it.

Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that.

He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.

Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.

After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.

If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat.

It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.

This was different, a slower, quieter process.

Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.

So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that?

He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

Grounded.

Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.

You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything.

Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.

She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.

But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.

He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”

It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.

“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”

The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.

“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”

Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face.

“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”

You were mad at him.

It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.

As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.

His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.

By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you.

You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.

He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.

“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.

“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.

“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”

He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.

“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”

“I know what you deserve.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”

“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.

“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"

You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.

His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.

He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.

“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”

"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”

Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”

You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.

That was it.

Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.

He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you.

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.

He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?

No, no, no.

Sofia was what he needed.

Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights.

She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.

He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.

It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it.

So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.

Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have.

He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.

Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her.

“I’m here because she called me.”

“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”

Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.

“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”

“Go away. I’m driving her home.”

She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.

“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”

“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”

He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.

But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.

“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”

Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.

It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came.

His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.

Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.

You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.

But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.

He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital.

Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.

His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here?

Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.

Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.

But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?

This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.

He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system.

He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.

If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.

He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him.

You’ll just prove her right.

He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push.

As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.

He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.

"Wake the fuck up."

He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”

But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.

“What the hell happened?”

Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.

Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”

Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.

Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.

“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”

If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm.

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.

Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.

She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Hi.”

You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”

She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”

She’d made him leave.

You could imagine his face distorted with anger.

You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away, giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.

You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.

“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.”

Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.

You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.

Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.

“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”

You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”

“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”

You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”

There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.

You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.

Not like this, with the IV in your arm.

"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”

This.

You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside.

“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”

Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”

“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to.

“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”

You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.

This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.

"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.

Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.

“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away.

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation.

Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.

You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"

You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.

“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."

“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.

“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”

Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”

You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.

“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.

“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”

Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”

“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”

She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.

“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”

You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”

She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”

When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.

You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.”

The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.

She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.

You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.

And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.

“Thank you.”

And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.

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#itneverendshere works✨#loved you at your worst fic #reblogs

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bluessmutifyplaylist · 1 day ago

Note

i need some smut with all of the diasomnia members

(AFAB! reader will be appreciated or if it has a breeding kink if not then its okay since anything you create is insanely good)

love ur work btw one of my favorite creators here also don’t mind the hate comments they just don’t like peace or happiness. Stay hydrated and have a good day!!

I turned off Anon-asks because of the people who can’t speak respectfully, but tysm! Also, I am ~95% sure that you wanted all of the Diasomnia members together…? However, I felt a bit weird about it since their relationship is a lot like family, so I changed it a bit.

Warnings: AFAB!Reader who uses She/Her pronouns, Polyamory, Breeding, Sebek whimpers, Cunnilingus/Oral (Reader Receiving), Overstimulation, Aftercare.

Diasomnia

It had been a few months since you entered this… new relationship with the Diasomnia crew.

Basically, it all started when each of them realized that they had feelings for you, despite you dating Silver, and Silver was more than alright with sharing. However, due to the conflict of relationships, you all agreed that you would not lay in bed together.

After all: Despite no one being blood-related, it was still weird.

Anyway, this week was a rough week for everyone, with Malleus being forgotten from a meeting; Sebek, you, and Silver having had to study a bunch for upcoming tests and exams; and Lilia being sad that Malleus did not have an heir yet.

In other words, everyone needed some relief, and you were more than willing to spread your legs and welcome them.

However… This time, there was a twist.

~~~~~~~~

Silver went first. After all, he was very close to falling asleep, and he was probably going to be the most gentle with you. A warm-up, if you will.

He knelt on the floor, bringing you to the edge of the bed as he tongue-fucked you, his teeth grazing lightly on your clit before he grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders. The touch grounded him, reminding him to stay awake. Your scent nearly made him high.

Drawing another orgasm from you, his grip tightened to hold you still as his face became covered in your juices. He moaned a bit at your taste, the vibrations of his voice making you writhe even more under his grasp.

However, he soon felt his eyes growing heavy, so he pulled away from your dripping cunt to tag in Sebek. ~~~~~~~~

To say that you were overstimulated would be an understatement, especially since Sebek’s size was nothing to laugh at. He mounted you, and thanks to Silver, he slid right in.

Before you, he was a total virgin, and he was still learning the ropes around sex, but his desperate thrusts and whimpers were more than enough to make your brain melt from the pleasure he was giving you.

However, no matter how desperate he was, it was a rule between the five of you that Malleus was the only one allowed to come inside you… so when Sebek got close, he pulled out and stroked himself to finish all over your back.

Before he left to head to bed, he grabbed a warm towel to help prepare you for Malleus. After all, the incoming Prince needs the best, right?

~~~~~~~~

Malleus was, by far, the largest size you have ever taken.

He always had you in a mating press, always wanting to be able to see your beautiful face as he gently thrusted into you. Actually, it was more like rutting. His entire shaft didn’t fit in all the way, as he only ever managed to fit half of it all at once.

You were the louder one out of the two of you, especially as he sank his fangs into your neck to muffle his grunts. The pretty noises you made would always be his favorite to hear, and he wouldn’t be able to hear them if he was making any unnecessary noises. When he neared his finish, he stilled inside you as he filled you up, painting your insides white with thick cum. Then, he put a pillow under your hips to ensure that nothing spilled. After all, an heir needed to be produced, right?

~~~~~~~~

Lilia… he surprisingly had no need to get off. He knew you were tuckered out, and he didn’t feel that insatiable urge for sex as much as he used to back in his younger days.

As he cleaned you up with a warm cloth, he giggled at your blissed out expression.

“You know, dearie… The Briar Valley Queen would love to meet you soon… especially since you will be carrying Malleus’s heir very soon.” You thought about his words, smiling softly and nodding. “Perhaps… over the next Winter Break… I may go with you all? I have heard many things about Her Majesty, and I would love to meet her as well.” Lilia was happy to know that you did not have much of an issue with the situation. He thought that you would have an issue with having to carry a dragon’s heir, but you seemed very excited about the thought of becoming a mother. “You shall make an excellent mother, my dear.. We are very excited to be with you on the rewarding, mind-changing journey that is pregnancy.”

Soon, your eyelids started growing heavier and heavier, and the sweet abyss that is called ‘sleep’ started taking over.

“Goodnight, lovely. See you in the morning.”

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 day ago

Text

be young, be dope, be proud

dynasty heir Aemond x heiress reader

a/n: randomly and carelessly drafted after a night out, so don't even ask me what this is. title obvi from Lana. also, I feel like the setting here is an acquired taste. so, enjoy? 💁🏼‍♀️🤍

themes/warnings: spoiled rich assholes, New York/modern references, language, clichés galore, Targs are like the Kennedys if that whole family was pure evil and Rep, SMUT, angst between brats who clearly want each other, also—you're kind of a hypocrite

main masterlist

The estate reeks with old money: marble columns, ancestral portraits, and a long dining table loaded with crystal and silver. Chandeliers try to warm the place, but it's all cold opulence. Outside, the gardens are cut and tamed to show that even nature has a price.

Your father always brings the family along to stately dinners up there in Westchester, with the usual crowd in attendance—the Targaryens, the Velaryons, the Lannisters—the whole lot.

Between them, they could probably purchase every building in Manhattan without creating a single dent in the bank.

Hell, maybe they already have. Generational wealth truly is the gift that keeps on giving.

You've tried to distance yourself from it. From people whose words drip poisoned honey and condescension. Being waited on like new order royalty.

But who are you to talk, when your father's lineage traces back to the fucking Mayflower? You and them are one and the same—filthy rich and borderline insane.

It is nearly impossible to maintain a steady sense of self, to have ample room for personal growth, when everything, every single thing, is handed to you on a silver platter. There is no tension there, no struggle, no need to exert any effort.

Failed your courses? Your father donates a building to the university. Aemond gets several DUIs? His great-uncle is a Supreme Court Justice. Aegon nearly burns his friend's house down while throwing a bacchanal-themed party? Let's just say that friend is grounded. For a week. Oh, the horror. Their family had many other estates, in many other places anyway.

When there are no real repercussions to your actions, you will feel like you can do just about whatever you want.

Burn the world down, for all you care. You can just buy a new, better one.

Granted, not everyone in your circle is an entitled egotist. There's Helaena, who strangely enough, does not possess a single self-important bone in her body, unlike her aforementioned brothers. Jace, who spends most of his time getting involved in political activism, for the side that his magnate grandfather Viserys steadfastly opposes.

You'd always sit beside either of them in these dinners, for the sake of your sanity. Unfortunately, Aemond and Aegon are never far. Especially Aemond—who occassionally stares you down as he sits across the table. Aegon, seated to his left, whistles at you. "Hey. Hey so... are you still slumming it with the art crowd?"

"I'm sorry?" You narrow your eyes at him. He didn't even say hello or mind if I cut in? as Jace was telling you about attending the DNC rally.

Aemond watches you again, so closely it raises goosebumps along your arms. He's been stealing glances at you ever since you arrived with your family. And you've been openly shooting glares at him when you sense it. Him and that steely one-eyed gaze of his always gets under your skin.

Aegon sneers, and you think how it's so in character of him. "You still live in Brooklyn? Cosplaying as a normie?"

"Fuck off, Aegon."

You've been living in Brooklyn for the past year, trying to finish up your Masters from Barnard. You would never hear the end of how this is the most redundant and useless thing, especially from people like Aegon. It does seem contrived, daddy's little heiress playing at being a scholar at Columbia, but at least you are doing something.

Besides, you have no desire to take over your family's empire. If anything, you want to branch out, maybe take on Jace's proposal on starting a charity foundation together.

"Aegon! Do you know how messed up that sounds?" Jace comes to your rescue, but you know it'll be for nought. Aegon's brain is too warped, too silver-spoonfed, to recognise his folly. You used to feel sympathy for the guy—this life is all he's ever known, and it isn't as if the adults around him ever set a good example, so can you blame him?

Used to. Now, he just annoys you. You grew up the same, but you are not like him, aren't you? So did Hel and Jace. So did Aemond. And Aemond, while still an asshole, is at least someone you can tolerate. He's vicious when it comes to his ambition, but he's genuinely smart.

He's cold and aloof, but he is also capable of tenderness.

You would never readily admit to anyone how you know this about him.

And he's staring you down, once again. You immediately know it's him when you feel someone nudge your shin under the table.

You eye him warily. What do you want?

He raises his eyebrows. Nothing. Just missed you.

At least that's what you're picking up from him. Why wouldn't he miss you? You're probably the best thing in his life right now. He should be so grateful you're still giving him the time of day, especially after everything he's done.

Aemond nods ever so subtly, the gesture meant for only you. You already know what he's getting at, but you don't feel like caving just yet.

It's another long moment of tuning in and out of your conversation with Jace, but Aemond's unspoken question lingers. When you deign to look at him again, he tilts his head to the side. Let's go.

He knows to leave first, and he stands and excuses himself from the table. Barely anyone gives him any mind, the adults debating passionately at the farther end.

You wait one whole minute, your heels tapping impatiently under the table. Then you follow suit.

"I need some air. Might have a smoke or something," you mumble to Jace. He wouldn't want to tag along, the scrunch of his face revealing how much he loathes the habit.

"Just the one," he tuts, raising a finger.

You roll your eyes fondly. "Okay, dad."

Aemond has just lit a cigarette when he hears you come in. The door to the private library lets out a tiny creak then shuts without a sound. He faces the window, his back to you. But he knows it's you. He can almost hear the derision in your exhale. A hint of your unmistakeable Guerlain scent is present in the room.

When you draw closer, he sees the ghost of your reflection on the glass, a mirage perched atop his shoulder. He thinks of the age-old visual of having an angel and a devil on either side. You would be the angel, and the devil... would probably be his own self.

The side he fights to keep buried. He knows you see it, and hate it, but you want him anyway. You let him have you anyway. And these stolen moments with you are the only times when he is truly free.

Without a word, he offers a cigarette to you, his hand moving with a smooth, practiced form that makes it feel like he's not just offering you a smoke but issuing a silent challenge. He lifts his lighter, an intricate, expensive thing engraved with his family crest, flicking it open with a soft metallic click, then holding the flame steady as you lean in.

He can't help but admire how beautiful you are as the glow illuminates your face.

"Do you ever get bored?" you sneer, folding your arms as you lean against a shelf. "Sitting there all night with that smug, 'yes, I agree with all of this' look while your family drones on about the 'sanctity of tradition.' Like a good little heir."

Aemond raises an eyebrow, barely looking up from his cigarette as he takes a drag. You sure have a habit of getting right down to business. "Funny," he replies smoothly. "For someone who 'hates' tradition, you play the part of Daddy's obedient little princess pretty well. I saw you batting your eyes at every gray-haired councilman at that table."

"Oh, please." You roll your eyes, heat flaring in your cheeks, though whether from anger or the way his gaze always seems to pin you in place, despite your best efforts, you can't say. "I'm not doing it because I like it. I don't sit there pretending I'm better than the rest of the world."

"You don't?" He cocks his head, his lips quirking into a wry, infuriating smirk. "Could've fooled me, princess. All I ever hear from you in these dinners are 'Oh, absolutely' and 'Oh, that's so interesting'—like you'd just die if they didn't think you cared."

"Wow, okay, says the guy who spent twenty minutes nodding along while they debated the tax breaks for HNWIs. Planning to cut yourself some more slack there, hotshot?" You take a quick, sharp puff, the smoke billowing out of your lips as you continue your tirade. "You're a damn statue, Aemond. Most of the time, you don't even say a word, and yet somehow you sit there looking like everyone should be grateful you graced them with your presence."

He takes a step closer, and his voice drops. This is something only you can do—you get to him, you hit him where it matters. Or, you're the only one he allows the privilege of doing so. "And you hate it, don't you? You hate that I don't care what they think. That I'm not actually here to impress anyone."

Your laugh comes out bitter. "Please. You don't care because you're so convinced they already think you're perfect. You don't have to impress anyone because you're Aemond Targaryen, right? The perfect heir to a glowing legacy."

"Better that than playing the poor, tortured rebel." He's so close you can count the facets of the sapphire in his socket, a dangerous gleam flashing behind them—another outlandish, excessive thing only a billionaire's son would think to do. "At least I'm not pretending I want to burn it all down while running around in the same circles as everyone else. Tell me, do you actually care about the policies Jacaerys painstakingly explains to you? Or is it all just for show?"

"You don't know me, Aemond."

"Oh, but I do. In fact, I think I'm the only one who knows the real you."

You clench your jaw, craning your neck up to look at him. How ironic that he literally has to look down on you too. "Unlike you, I actually feel something about all this. You sit there like you're above it all, and it's pathetic."

"Pathetic?" He lets out a low, humorless laugh. "You want to talk about pathetic? The only thing pathetic is you standing there acting like a revolutionary when you're just like the rest of us."

"At least I want to get out. At least I want to make a goddamn difference and—"

"Then do it," he says, his tone mocking, as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your face. "Get out. Run off, make your big escape. Show everyone how different and special you are, princess."

"Oh, right," you shoot back, trying to regain some of your moxie after his unexpected retort. "And leave you to taint my image after then?"

He scoffs, the gesture dismissive, almost cruel. "You wouldn't be here if you actually had the guts to go through with it."

Aemond may be a pretentious asshole, but he's right, and you know it. "You know what, Aemond? What if... I tell you that I like it. The power, the status, all of it. Is that what you want to hear?"

He smirks. "You'd be adrift without it. You'd be lost without all this to complain about." His gaze drops to your mouth, as if he could already guess exactly how a rendezvous like this is going to end.

How it always ends.

You feel your breath hitch, your pulse racing even as you grit your teeth against the draw of him.

"Don't look at me like that," you snap, trying to keep the upper hand. You should leave. You know this, know you should storm out and leave him here with that damn arrogant smirk on his face.

Call it a truce, and do it all over again next time.

"What's wrong? Afraid you'll do something you'll regret?"

The challenge in his tone has you seething, heat blazing up your neck. "You're insufferable, you know that?” You try to sound as furious as you feel, but your voice wavers, and the corner of his mouth tilts in a dark, smug smile.

"Then leave, princess." His eyes flash, daring you, mocking you, yet he doesn't move back. "Go on. Show me that strength you keep talking about."

The words are meant to push you away, to test how much you can take, but they do something else instead. They push you over the edge, sending you surging forward before you even know what you're doing, fisting the front of his pristine shirt and yanking him down to you.

Your mouth meets his, all anger and fire, biting at his lips as he smirks against you, welcoming the aggression. His hands find your waist, pawing at your gown, pushing you back until you stumble against the bookshelf.

You try to hold onto the anger, to use it to keep yourself in control, but the way he kisses you—rough, possessive, familiar, with a hunger that seems to match yours—makes it impossible. His hands slip to your hips, fingers digging into you with a desire that you both pretend doesn't exist anywhere but here, in the dark corners of your little meeting places.

"Stop," you gasp for breath, pulling away for just a second, trying to steady yourself, but he follows, his mouth trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting down just enough to make you groan.

His fingers slip beneath the slit of your dress, finding bare skin. "Then tell me you don't want this."

Your head tilts back involuntarily, the blissed hitches in your breath becoming frequent. You should tell him to stop, but the words never come, not with his fingers tracing up your thigh, the pressure of his lean body against yours, the electric shiver that races through you as his mouth tongue dances with your own.

You give in, letting your anger melt into something messier, something that's been building between you both for so long you don't know how to unravel it. Your hands move to his white-blonde hair, pulling him closer. His hand slips higher, while the other is braced against the bookshelf behind you.

There's nothing careful about it—gone are the dynasty heirs who are unfailingly curated and perfect and genteel in the public eye. It's all frantic, hands grabbing, mouths clashing, neither of you willing to let the other take control but both of you giving in to the heat. He yanks your dress up, lifting you and positioning himself between your legs, his breathing rough as he makes quick work of his belt. Then he lets his trousers and underwear drop halfway down his thighs, and his cock springs free, pressing on the draped material of your gown, which you hurriedly bunch to the side.

It's like a sick power play when he takes two fingers and plunges them past your soaked entrance, right to his knuckles. All without breaking eye contact.

But neither has the upper hand. You and Aemond are one and the same.

"Seems like you're ready for me, princess."

"Mhmm, aghh—" He hooks his fingers inside you, hitting that damned spot. "Just fuck me already."

And when he does, his cock practically propping you up against the bookshelf, it's fast, chaotic, your movements nothing short of needy and desperate, as if you're both trying to prove something to the other. You don't care about the priceless first-edition books that rattle precariously behind you, nor about the way his fingers dig into your flesh that guarantee bruises that will show tomorrow. Right now, you're past caring, past pretending that you actually ever cared about anyone but yourself.

And maybe... Aemond.

His groans come out unrestrained against your neck, his tongue flicking over the droplets of sweat, as if he can't bear you being any less than perfect.

Only he can taint you, only he can see you broken in and fucked out like this, your lipstick smeared to the side of your mouth. That same shade of rouge littering his cheek, his jaw, the collar of his shirt.

No words are exchanged, as if they've been used up in your twisted version of foreplay from earlier.

All he offers is, "Fuck, baby, I'm close," as his hips continue in its assault, his hands buried in the softness of your arse, keeping you in place.

"So am I," you counter.

He falls apart inside you, his cock sputtering while lodged deep in your clenched walls. The near-animalistic growl he lets out brings you to your climax, your forehead falling against his as your entire body is rendered limp in his arms.

When you finally pull away, flushed, your heart still racing, he looks at you with that same arrogant smirk, and you can't help but feel the distaste rising back up.

"Still think I don't know you?" he murmurs, smug satisfaction written all over his face.

You glare at him, pulling your dress back down, refusing to let him have the last word even as his expression uncharacteristically softens as he gazes at you, making you want to pull him close and kiss him again. Gentler, this time.

"This can't happen again," you force out your usual lie.

"That's what you said last time, princess."

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader

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deusfoundry · 13 hours ago

Text

18+ only mdni pls thank u :D also its my first time writing smut/something this explicit so please be kind 😭

kissing sylus is always such a dizzying experience, one that you can swear drives you to borderline insanity.

you usually catch him in one of two moods.

one, is when he likes to take things slow.

it's a few hours past midnight, hours past the time you should've went to bed if you wanted to get up early for work tomorrow. but you don't mind. really, every single bone in your body is screaming at you to stay where you are, perched right on sylus' lap.

your legs settle on either side of his thighs. they’re beginning to feel like jelly, nearly numb from being in the same position for so long. both of your hands are on his shoulders. your fingers dig into the fabric of his sweatshirt. an attempt, but ultimately a feeble one to ground yourself.

likewise, sylus' hands are glued to your thighs. his palms glide over the bare flesh, fingertips brushing against the hem of your shorts. beneath the thin fabric, he draws circles with his thumb, each drag of his rough pads on your skin brings him closer to the lace of your underwear.

he’s got no sense of urgency as he pulls away, lips lingering just a hair away from yours before leaning his head to give your neck the same amount of attention. you turn your head to the side for his convenience, and he gladly takes it as an invitation to smother the entire length of your neck.

sylus works diligently, lips moving in an almost snail-like pace as if to say that you've got all the time in the world. he doesn't move to another patch of skin until he's sure there are marks in the greater vicinity of each area he covers.

his lips travel down to your shoulder, leaving wet kisses in his wake. he takes the thin strap of your camisole between his fingers, toying with the fabric enough that it slips off. his teeth sink into your skin.

your breath hitches when that delightful mix of pain and pleasure hits your senses.

it's almost too much, the way he's taking his sweet time with you. how he pours the same amount of utmost care and attention over each inch of skin he comes across, until you somehow find yourself resting on your back at the couch.

the flimsy fabric of your camisole rides up. you find it harder and harder to breathe as he runs a hand over your bare stomach. sylus plants his lips right above the garter of your shorts.

he tugs at the garter while he holds your gaze, an unspoken way of asking for your consent. your nod is accompanied by a quiet hum that he takes as his cue to pull your shorts all the way down, tossing the garment carelessly over his shoulder.

you're left in your camisole and underwear. it's far less skin than you've shown sylus before, who's seen and memorized every little nook and cranny of your body, but you still feel the urge to squirm. to shy away from his touch and to hide from his eyes that nearly burns holes into your skin from the intensity of his stare.

but he doesn't give you the chance to do either when his hand flies to your inner thigh, slightly spreading your limbs apart.

“don't go hiding on me now, sweetie.” his lips replace the hand on your thigh. the teeth that digs into your skin makes you whimper. “relax, we've got all night.”

other times, he's overtaken by the carnal need to devour you whole.

he's got you pinned down on the mattress. the cool silk beneath a stark contrast to your flushed, heated skin. it serves as a reminder of how sylus can get you all hot and bothered with little effort.

you two have been going at it for what feels like hours, but it's barely been ten minutes since he dragged you from his office by the waist, the cookies you baked for him sitting long forgotten on his desk.

sylus pulls away, just enough to have you rising from the bed as your parted lips chase after him on instinct. he can feel the ghost of your lashes as your half lidded eyes flutter open.

you pout. sylus struggles to hold down the chuckle blooming from his chest.

"stop being mean.”

"i don't know what you're talking about, sweetie." sylus acts innocent, but he's got a shit-eating grin on his face that lets you know he's messing with you. "am i not allowed to breathe?"

he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. like he's never pushed you to the boundaries of how long a human being can last without oxygen. like he doesn't place a firm hand on the back of your head to keep you from catching your breath.

sylus full-on laughs when you turn away from him, shifting your body as much as his tight grip on your wrists will allow so that you're angled away from him.

cute. he thinks. did you really think he can be denied that easily?

sylus releases his hold on one of your wrists. his now free hand finds your chin, fingers lingering above skin for a moment before he uses just enough force to turn your head towards him.

you gasp. the tiny sound you make that's barely louder than a whisper travels straight down.

for half a second, you lock eyes. but you're determined to keep up this little charade despite the hand on your chin, eyes darting to look at anything but him.

“kitten,” he feels the way you squirm beneath, can almost feel the shiver running down your spine. “look at me.”

with little hesitation, you will yourself to face him. and when your eyes find his, sylus wastes no time in capturing your lips between his own.

it's awfully pathetic, you think, the way you gasp for the second time in less than a minute. but you don't think you can pin the blame on yourself entirely when it's sylus.

sylus, who's rapidly starting to fill your senses, consuming you wholly. he's in each breath of air you take through your nose, a mix of leather and cedarwood fogging your mind. he's all you can ever think of tasting as his tongue works wonders inside your mouth.

hell, he's even in the back of your eyelids. a picture forever burned in your mind, a memory carved so deeply into your soul.

he slots himself between your legs, dragging one of his thighs up the sheets until it meets with your core.

sylus swallows each sound you make, from the quietest whimpers to the most shameless of moans, as he grinds his thigh against you. the muscle presses into you with pressure that's enough to drive you crazy, but not enough to send you careening over the edge.

he knows this. of course he does. he notices it in the shortening of your breath, chest heaving and contracting deeply. in the frantic way in which your fingers travel across the large expanse of his back. in your soaked pajama shorts that's slowly seeping through the fabric of his pants.

“what's the matter?” and he'd be happy to give you more, to give you that push you need to reach blissful release. “tell me, sweetie, what do you want?”

only if you ask nicely.

“sy-” you manage between baited breaths. “please, i- i need more.”

“i’m not sure i get what you mean. care to help a poor man out?” his pace relents, leaning forward in a mock curiosity. satisfaction courses through his veins when he hears you whine.

his pants are starting to strain uncomfortably, the last bits of his restrain wearing thin. he wants you, as much as—no, a lot more than you want him. but he wants to make sure you get your fill first.

it's you above everything, after all.

“sylus, i need you-”

“you have me.” sylus presses against your clothed clit. “or is this not enough for you?”

you shake your head, desperate for release. “need you inside, please.”

“well,” he smirks, reaching down to move your underwear to the side before sliding right into your hole. the gasp that falls off your swollen lips is music to his ears as he starts rapidly thrusting two of his fingers in and out. “since the kitten asked so nicely, who am i to deny her request?”

#might be a tiny bit ooc SAWRY #i kinda chickened out so its not like full on smut #i TRIED ok 😭#sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut

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slashbitch2 · 21 hours ago

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The Proposal AU! (part one)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: 1.3k words

PART TWO (coming soon)

Agatha Harkness was a terrible boss. In the five years you had been working as her assistant, you had her schedule memorised, you constantly tried to anticipate her needs, and yet, she could barely remember your name. And that wasn’t the only flaw, oh no. There was the erratic behaviour, her quickness to anger, the fact that she always teetering the line between serious and sarcastic, so you could never quite tell whether she meant what she had said. Which would be your excuse if she attempted to criticise your response time to her latest question.

It's just… there was no way she was being serious… Right?

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that last part, please?” You asked slowly, steadily lowering the file in your hands to pay full attention to Agatha. She was sat at her desk, looking up at you as though you were an idiot. So, like usual.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to get down on one knee.” Agatha scoffed, and when you didn’t respond, quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’m just having a hard time comprehending what you’re asking of me.” You spluttered out.

She exhaled, clearly irritated. Then leant forwards over the desk and demanded, “Marry me,” punctuating each word with the intensity of her glare.

Under her scrutiny, you could feel your cheeks flushing. She never usually paid this much attention to you unless she needed something, which was rare. But this was too far. It had to be some kind of test surely. Of what, you weren’t sure. Loyalty? Dedication? Insanity?

After a beat of silence, you finally remembered to respond. “You’re insane.” You folded your arms across your chest, still in disbelief that she would ever ask such a thing. You knew Agatha was unpredictable, dramatic, terrifying even, but never could you have imagined her saying such a thing on this unassuming Thursday afternoon. She never brought her personal life into work, and so why she would want to bring her work (aka you) into her home, her bed, well- it was a mystery.

Your cheeks grew redder at the image your mind conjured up. You and the boss, in bed, together.

The silence continued, and you summoned the resolve to look back at Agatha. She was staring up at you expectantly, and you realised that, despite your aghast reaction, she was still awaiting a response.

“No!” You exclaimed, mouth agape.

At this, her red lips stretched back into a malicious grin. “I wasn’t asking, dear.”

Something about her teasing smile and her mildly threatening words flustered you. “Well… you can’t make me.” You responded futilely. You knew she could. This was Agatha Harkness, after all. She could make anyone do anything.

And yet… “No, I can’t.” Agatha conceded with a simple shrug.

This caught you off guard. You frowned down at her, wondering if this was some form of reverse psychology.

“But what I can do is offer something in return.” Agatha winked, and if you weren’t flustered enough before, you certainly were now.

You took a moment to breathe. To calm the way your heart raced in your chest. You recognised the innuendo to her words, but knew the connotations likely lay in more entrepreneurial benefits. A promotion. A raise perhaps. The possibilities were endless, and all of them would help you to pay the rent. Now that, you couldn’t pass up on so easily.

“But why?” You asked, quieter, reluctant to admit to yourself that you were settling into the idea. “Why do you need to marry me?”

“Oh pfft,” Agatha waved a hand dismissively. “Not specifically you. This is nothing personal.”

“Oh great. That makes me feel so much better, thank you.” You snarked.

“Come on, you’re a clever girl.” Agatha narrowed her gaze, that teasing edge so easily returning to her tone. “You can figure it out.”

You paused to think, running through everything you knew about your boss. She lived alone, quite happily so, which ruled out any kind of breakdown. She was about ten years older than you, which meant this probably wasn’t a midlife crisis. But in terms of personal information, that was about all you knew. Agatha was a married to the job kind of woman, constantly in and out of meetings, often the last to leave the office. You had tried to outlast her one evening, but upon seeing the delivery guy arrive with enough food to survive the night, you had given up and headed home.

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, eyes briefly flickering about the office when an idea struck you.

“Earlier today…” You began, speaking cautiously slow. “You had a meeting scheduled with your immigration lawyer.”

“Atta girl.” Agatha leant back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“You’ve been putting off that meeting for weeks,” you continued.

“It didn’t seem important!”

“Well, I’m guessing your visa expired. And you panicked, because being deported would suck, so you lied and said you were engaged.”

“Bingo!” Agatha clapped her hands, as though this were some fun guessing game and not a huge life issue that would turn both your lives upside down. “Being deported would suck, as you so eloquently put it. I would lose my job, so god knows what would happen to you.” She pulled a face of mock concern, pointing a sharp finger in your direction. “And now all I need is some all-American idiot to get me that green card. Simple. Beneficial for us both, really.”

“No. Not simple. Not beneficial for us both.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “For one, with you gone I might actually get a normal boss.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” She quipped. “Plus, me being gone would certainly halt your progression up the ranks- and where would you ever find a better recommendation than from your boss turned wife, huh toots?”

Agatha was talking with such rationality that it was giving you a migraine. You pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to soothe it. “Please take a moment to think about this. I mean is it even allowed? The whole employer, employee relationship?”

“Oh, stop with your worrying. I wasn’t the one who hired you.”

“And you really can’t think of anyone else to do this?” You implored, though you were afraid you already knew the answer.

“I admit I didn’t give it much thought, but what’s the problem? You’re not dating anyone, your family are abroad so they won’t get involved in any of it-”

“How do you know all this?” You interrupted, frowning. Clearly your prior assumption that she didn’t give you the time of day was incorrect.

“I’m observant.” She deadpanned. “So, it’s settled, we’ll get married, live apart for a year, then when the immigration office determines I’m not a threat to the country, we’ll get an uncontested divorce with two of the finest lawyers’ money can buy. Breeze it through the law courts and never speak of it again. You get your promotion; I don’t have my whole life uprooted.”

You hummed noncommittally, finding yourself at a loss for words.

“Great, I’m taking that as a yes!” Agatha stood up abruptly, striding past you to grab her coat. “Let’s hit the road!”

“What? Both of us?”

“Of course. You’re my besotted fiancée and we’ve got a immigration officer to chat with!” Agatha nudged open the office door, storming through the building without another word. You simply stood and watched her go, her long navy coat flapping behind her, swishing back and forth with every step. You momentarily entertained the thought that it was a cloak- that she was secretly an evil witch in disguise as your boss.

It was the only reasonable conclusion from what you had just been roped into.

Groaning, you reluctantly followed your soon-to-be wife, trying desperately to ignore the churning anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

NEXT PART

Notes: ok I need to fess up I don't have much of a plan for this fic and uni work is kicking my ass so my time is v limited. But I've always wanted to write something following the vague plot of The Proposal- the film this is based off in case you can't tell.... so, hope you enjoyed :)

#agatha harkness x reader

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mashounen1945 · 3 days ago

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For anyone wondering if this actually is effective: the OP said at the very beginning of this post that this strategy was already used to stop the so-called "Kids' Online Safety Act", and it worked. So yes, this is worth it, but only if enough people (especially USA citizens, which I'm not) contribute to this.

The OP also added this in the replies: proof from the FBI about election interference:

A couple of users pointed out something important in the reblogs: Kamala Harris did concede, but that's just a formality, not something legally binding.

Oh, and there's one more thing I found kinda weird in this election: Michigan, Wisconsin, Arizona and Nevada were four swing states were Biden won in 2020 and Trump apparently won now; they're also four swing states where Democrat candidates won for the Senate at the exact same time. I'm far from being an expert in the USA's election system (I'm used to Argentina's system, which works in an entirely different way and encourages each citizen to vote candidates & lists of one same party/coalition for all categories), but this might be another sign that something went wrong and both a recount and an investigation are needed.

Here are other similar posts with additional information, by @welcometoqueer, @adumbdemon, @kachikirby and @feralcringeman:

And lastly, for anyone who feels exhausted and is thinking about disconnecting from politics and is just done with everything after wasting months on the campaign effors for nothing:

I get it. I felt the exact same way when Milei, our local Trump wannabee, won for President last year. But there are two things you people have and we don't: actually functional & effective ways to contact your representatives directly (which allows for democracy to be more than just voting once every few years, instead of merely being a "delegative democracy"), and one big nation-wide political party working like a well-oiled machine to concentrate and coordinate your efforts (and that party will remain in control of the Presidency and the Senate for the next two months, no matter what happens). Both of those tools can get things done, but only if enough people are informed about their existence and use them. This is also why this whole thing absolutely must be known outside of social media's (namely Tumblr's) echo chambers.

Besides, doing these calls and sending this messages is just as easy as voting, if not easier. Do you remember how we insisted that voting is the bare minimum any citizen can do to participate in politics? The same goes for this. Not only is easier and much less exhausting than campaigning, but it might be more effective as well.

If both the recount and the investigation are carried out, it's very likely that Trump loses: either it's found out that he actually didn't win, or it's blatantly confirmed that he won by cheating. And even if he doesn't fall, this goes beyond who becomes the next President of the USA: the exact composition of the House of Representatives isn't clear yet, so you people can still "turn it blue" and ruin his day forever.

This is it for now, I guess... Oh! And if you meet any other Argentinean like me, tell them to spread this too. At least it'll be useful to give Milei the middle finger as well.

PLEASE CALL THE WHITE HOUSE TO CONVINCE THEM TO DO A RECOUNT. IT WORKED FOR KOSA IT CAN WORK NOW

Use this number to text Kamala directly and demand a recount and investigation

And here’s a script to use. Also personalize it to make sure it isn’t spam

Hello Ms. Vice President. I'm contacting you to request that you do not concede, and instead request an investigation and recount of the votes. Right now, many people on social media are finding suspicious signs that may point to Trump cheating (links at the end of the message). Additionally, many media outlets are declaring his victory before all votes have been counted. I understand that you have a duty to protect democracy and a peaceful transition to power, but I fear that accepting these results would also mean accepting a potential dictatorship that can still be avoided.

Thank you for your time.

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ohbueckers · 1 day ago

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HEART OF A WOMAN. you should call into work if that ain’t too much to ask, i could pour you up a drink and we could burn somethin’.

03, CHAPTER THREE. COME THROUGH.

ju speaks. late chapter again lol and this election fucked me uuup but thank God for writing as a distraction. you can expect another part between now and monday mayyybe… i have some free time. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. same old + sexual innuendos (we’re very familiar with my edging game).

present day, may 2025.

paige: yo 6:23pm

wyd?

nailea text me back bro 6:29pm

nailea: hmmm

busy

paige: busy my ass

nailea disliked a message

nailea: i’ve been at work all day. some of us don’t get to just play basketball, madison 😓

paige: ohhh is that right?

i’ll have you know i work hard af ma

nailea: hard enough for a reward?

paige loved a message

paige: bring that ass over here nai

nailea: i’ve got emails to finish

paige: they’ll be there tomorrow

i’m here right now. waitin on you actually

nailea: maybe i have been thinking ab it 6:32pm

paige: mhm?

well you ain’t gotta think no more let’s just do

nailea laughed at a message

nailea: you’re really ridiculous

paige: come over and tell me that to my face

nailea: depends on what you got there

a girl needs incentives

read 6:35pm

paige: i got plenty

few drinks, maybe roll up too. thought that might get you

nailea: it’s a start

send the address, i’ll come through when i’m done

paige loved a message

i sink back into the couch, letting my head rest against the arm, my feet comfortably draped across paige’s lap. the last few days, i tried to keep myself busy, focus on work, ignore the way my phone would vibrate and my thoughts would jump straight to her. the same old game. she’d sent a few texts, nothing too serious, just little things to test the waters i guess, and when she called yesterday, talking about how much she missed me, i could already tell she was pulling me back in, trying to see if that thread between us would hold.

paige kept her word, though—i can give her that. i said i’d answer, and she made sure i’d have a reason to. she knew exactly what to say, and it’s a shame that she always does, really. it’s messed up, but it works. i can’t say i haven’t missed this, either. the way she can look at me and make me forget everything i swore i’d remember, every reason i should’ve walked away.

and now, here we are, the sun setting behind her window and casting everything, even her, in some warm, orange glow that only makes her look all the more attractive. it’s like the universe is playing along, trying to romanticize something i know i should be more careful with. there’s an old celtics game playing on the tv, but neither of us is really paying attention to it. i watch her more than the screen, notice the way her fingers brush absentmindedly over my leg, the way she insists that she should be the one to hold the joint to my lips.

paige leans back, and her hand has inched from my ankle to a casual spot on my bare thigh. we’re both too deep in drinks and hits to make sense of it, but i’m not sure i would’ve said anything even if i was sober. she’s wearing one of her uconn tees, which i guess you could call old now, the shirt hugging her arms a little tight. her hair’s falling over her shoulders, looking a little shriveled but still perfect, and every time she glances at me, she wears this smug little smirk.

“…feels like everything i knew it’d be. more work and pressure than it seems, but you know me,” paige says, her grin turning a little self-satisfied, like she’s relishing every second of her own success. we’ve been catching up—if that’s what you’d call it—for awhile now. i should probably leave soon, sober up and drive home. i’m not that far. but i don’t want to.

she drags her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, eyes hazily drifting back over to me. “what about you, huh?” she asks. “you got that insane move up. what’s that been like?”

i roll my eyes, tilting my head against the couch arm to look at her. “it’s not that insane.”

paige grins, shrugging and taking a sip of her lazy attempt at a cocktail. i’d offered to make them myself, honestly not trusting the blonde to not fuck it up, but she’d insisted, hostess duties or something.

“still sounds like a pretty big deal. you’re all professional and shit now,” she rambles, and i can’t help but chuckle at her choice of words.

i shake my head, hiking one of my legs up. “it’s not like i’m paige bueckers or anything,” i tease, a stupid, huge smile on my face. how is she able to bring out the worst and the best in me? “no one’s asking me to sign their shoes after a meeting.”

she laughs, eyes half-lidded and glassy, gaze intimidatingly lingering on me just a little too long. “bet you got your own version of that, though. people hangin’ on your every word, just tryna get a second of your time. don’t lie.”

i shrug, eyes shooting away from her. i don’t get how she does it. “i mean, it’s been good,” i admit. “long hours, but it’s nice to finally get involved the way i always wanted to, y’know?”

her hand shifts a little on my thigh, just enough to remind me it’s there, and i glance down. “coulda called that years ago,” she murmurs, barely louder than a whisper. then, it’s silent for a moment. just long enough for me to think of something else to ask her before she beats me to it. “you happy?”

i swallow, suddenly feeling a little hot in the face. “i am,” i reply after a pause, furrowing my eyebrows with a nod, almost like i’m trying to convince myself of it. “the dream, right?” i let out a breathy laugh, and paige smiles.

it’s silly to think that the both of us could recall that conversation like it was yesterday. but this wasn’t the dream. not the one we had when we were kids. just our own fucked up, adult version of it. and somehow, someway, we’re still here. somehow, someway, we still can’t let it go.

“and the people? they treat you right?” she sounds like she really cares, but is still trying not to press too hard.

“everyone’s good. most of them, anyway.” she can probably see through every word i say. pick up on the way i describe everything as good. i hesitate, looking back up at her. “never thought i’d be this close with a pro team after graduating, that’s for sure.”

“bro, ‘kea really don’t play ‘bout you,” paige laughs, but she’s serious. rickea’s one of the first people i got close with during my internship, contrary to belief. i was barely around the team then, too. “and maya’s been talking all kinds of good about you since cam’s party.”

i can feel my face flush, and i shift to sit up next to her, suddenly acutely aware of how close i am to paige, how tangled up i’ve let myself become. the mention of her name has clearly been a sore subject. i’m not sure why i feel so guilty, paige was mine first, but my mind flashes to her anyway, and then to paige, who’s probably hearing everything maya’s been saying about me, while i’m here, in the middle of all of it.

i don’t wanna ask what she’s been saying, and i surely don’t wanna press further into how deep paige and maya might be. ignorance is bliss, right? but shouldn’t it be my business? is paige still my business?

instead, i force a shrug. “i mean, it’s not like we’re on the same level,” i say, clearly selling myself a little short. maya’s been here longer, knows what she’s doing better than i do. credit never hurt.

paige doesn’t say anything. she inches just a little bit closer, and the sound of a sold out stadium of cheers from tatum’s three pointer is suddenly going in one ear and out the other. a small smirk tugs at her lips, and she tilts her head, eyes not sure what to focus on as she rubs up and down on my thigh, hand inching a little higher everytime. “i agree.”

i squint at her. “you do?” but it’s less of a question. my eyes flick to her lips, and i know she catches it because her smile widens, just a little.

“mhm,” she murmurs, her fingers twisting in, gripping my thigh until i’m squeezing my legs together. there’s a moment of silence, like she’s giving me a moment to breathe, to prepare, and she’s not done. “nobody’s fuckin’ with you, baby. believe that.”

i can feel my defenses slipping—not that they were ever really there anyway—as she presses closer, and i feel a warmth spreading through me, one that has nothing to do with the la heat. “what are we even doing, p?” i ask, and i don’t know where it came from. no part of me wanted to start an argument, or worse, hear the truth. i can’t look away.

she shifts, her expression softening as she glances down, then up again. she doesn’t know the answer either. “i dunno. what we always do.” she leans back a little, resting her head on the couch right near my chest, so close that her breath brushes against me with each exhale.

i tilt my head down, just enough to meet her blue hues, and the words come out before i even realize i’m saying them. “i’m supposed to be over this. over you.”

the second they’re out, i wish i could take them back. i didn’t wanna ruin the moment. the way her face changes, her jaw tightening and a flicker of something unreadable flashing in her eyes, tells me i’ve hit a nerve. a silence falls between us, an uncomfortable one if i’m honest, stretching longer than i mentally prepared myself for.

paige screws her eyes shut, letting out a low, frustrated breath as she sits up, running a hand over her face like she’s trying to gather herself. the loss of her touch makes me feel cold. “fuck, nai.”

i push myself up too, eyebrows are furrowed as i try to make sense of it. “what? i just asked a question.”

“you always gotta make shit so fuckin’ difficult,” she mutters, shaking her head like this whole thing is somehow my fault. like i’m the one complicating it.

i frown, glancing down, and she continues. “you’re just—God, nai, it’s like you can’t just let things be. you always gotta question it, question me.” she bites down on her lip. she’s actually upset, and the horrible part about it is that it’s so like her—so unmistakably paige—that somehow, i can’t even bring myself to be mad.

i want to laugh. “why does that piss you off?” i don’t want to say it, but the words slip out anyway. “you think you’ve given me any reason not to? especially now that you’re seeing maya?”

her head crooks to look at me, and her eyes narrow with it. “what the fuck does maya have to do with this?”

i can feel the heat in my face, the way everything inside me tightens, like i’ve been holding my breath for way too long. “what do you mean, what’s she got to do with it? you’re seeing her, paige. i’m not blind.”

her jaw clenches tighter than before, and she stands up, pacing a few steps before turning back to me. “we’re not—” she pauses, clearly trying to find her words, but i’m not giving her the time.

“that’s all i need to know,” i finish, forcing a tight-lipped grin. “you don’t have to lie. i’m quite sick of those from you, actually.” i chuckle, but it’s a hollow sound, one that doesn’t even make it past my throat. i reach for my shoes that i tossed to the side when i got here, pulling them onto my feet.

paige watches, hands on her hips, and i’m fine with her quiet. “i don’t want you to leave upset with me over somethin’ we coulda talked about,” she softens, but it doesn’t change the fact that i’m already over it.

“i’m not upset with you,” i bluff, and i tie the laces of my sneakers a little tighter than necessary.

she glances down, tongue swarming her mouth, and i don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s thinking of some way to stop me. “nai—“ she starts.

“i’m not upset,” i repeat, and i hope it was more firm this time. i force myself to look her in the eyes, not a single thought behind them. neither of us is willing to be the first to back down, but i’m too exhausted to care anymore. “i just need to go,” i finish, standing up and rounding the couch.

paige’s face drops, hesitation etched across her entire face. “you can’t leave. you had too much. just… stay, aight? we’ll figure it ou—”

i grab my jacket, ignoring her weak attempts. somehow, this all feels like that night again, and i feel that familiar nausea creep up. “i’ll call a fucking uber,” i snap, throwing the door open. and before she can stop me, i’m gone, my pulse racing as i step out into the hall, leaving behind the sound of her voice.

i don’t think i’m very good at pretending i’m not upset.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers uconn #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x fem #paige bueckers blog #ju’s anons 🪅#wlw fanfic #wlw fiction #wlw yearning #wlw smut #wlw post #wlw blog #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtqia

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drewsbraziliangf · 14 hours ago

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funny seeing you here | Drew Starkey x black!fem reader

summary: after seven months of not seeing his face, you find yourself at the same party he’s at. And he clearly made it his mission to be noticed by you. So what are you gonna do now?

warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive smut

a/n: Here's part 3 of nothing to say when heaven falls. As the title called it, it was 100% inspired by ‘funny seeing you here’ by Jack Harlow which I recommend listening to during the reading. Comments and reblogs are never required but always very much appreciated 🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

"Hey," he said and you could barely hear the smile on his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

No escape.

"Hi," you replied with a low voice, unsure if he had heard it over the loud music. "Yeah, I'm with Frankie."

"Uh, yeah, I saw her," he voices as he scoots slightly closer to you. "This does look more like her scene."

At that, you nod and mentally curse the fifth generation of this damned bartender who has yet to finish your drinks.

Everything around you is spiraling at this point. You were not ready for this, especially with how casual he's being about everything. It was not in your plans to run into him tonight and all you wanted was to get as far away from him as you could.

Your salvation comes in the shape of your friend, who you can see right past her excitement about how much she just wanted to take you out of that situation. She held your arm lightly and, it was as if you weren't waiting for almost ten minutes the bartender returned with both your drinks.

"Hey, uhm, what's taking so long?" Frankie says and pretends to be shocked when she looks up at Drew. "Oh hey! Long time, no see." As the words leave her mouth you notice how the stiff smile on her face shows her displeasure at his presence.

"Hi Frankie," he says a little taken back by her and you notice how he starts tapping his fingers against the glass the same way you were doing moments ago. A shared habit that the both of you didn't get to brush off of one another it seems.

"Let's go, babes! I still have so much to tell you."

With your drinks at hand, you followed her and immediately felt a weight fall off of your shoulders. Still, you weren't able to hold back and you looked over your shoulder just to see him checking you out.

Your face was burning after that and you just prayed to whatever God that Frankie was able to distract you enough to make you not act on the alcohol in your veins.

It wasn't a secret to anyone the effect that he had on you. I mean you were together for years and about to get married - obviously, you had to be attracted to him. And he just had this thing about him that made it very hard for you to ignore.

He looked handsome, but that was no surprise. He always looked so fine, except this time it seemed like he had filled out more. The black shirt he was wearing fitted him perfectly, the sleeves stretched around his biceps, and even from a glimpse you were able to notice how much bigger they were since you last saw him. His outgrown hair now looked more like a growing mullet and, god, that did work with him. At this point, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your brain talking about how insanely good he looked.

“Y/N, honey, you good?” She asked once the both of you got back to your spot.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” You retorted to which she just stared at you with uncertainty.

“I don’t- I don’t know, you just looked like you were about to vanish in thin air back there,” she voices smoothly still looking at you.

“Yeah, I uh, I guess I just wasn’t expecting that to happen,” you confess.

She nods and sips on her drink, her own eyes scanning the room this time, and once she looks up at you once more you see a glimpse of regret there.

“I didn’t know. Had I known I wouldn’t have brought you here,” She declares with sorrow and you shake your head quickly.

“Hey, I know that! Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

At that, neither of you is sure enough.

You could feel that it was way past one in the morning, the air just felt different. The party was less crowded but the music was still blaring through the speakers. Frankie was entertained in a talk with a tall dark-skinned man who was whispering in her ear every now and then earning giggles from the brunette.

You had been nursing the drink in your hand for a while now, the condensation around the glass caused your fingertips to be wet. You were much more drunk than you’d normally get, but for once in a long time it felt good to let yourself go.

Still the numbness the alcohol brought, did not evade the feeling of what happened earlier. It had been so long since the last time and you were not expecting to see him like that. What would’ve happened if Frankie had not interrupted him? What would you have done?

“Hey,” You heard Frankie’s voice closer to your ear this time, “Would you mind if I left for a while? I promise I’ll be back and you won’t even notice.”

It amazed you that even with the amount of drinks she had, her pleading eyes didn’t fail to convince you. And honestly, she needed to have fun with the hot guy as well. So with a nod you sent her off watching her excitement as she followed him.

At least you were alone with your thoughts and could think and rethink everything, from your coffee orders to your love life as you downed the last of your blue coloured drink. But as if they were trying to prove a point, the spot next to you did not remain empty for long.

The same cologne that woke forbidden memories hours ago was flooding your space once again but this time it was subtle. Almost as if it was fading and taking with it your sanity.

“I thought we’d never get the chance to talk again,” was what he said and it didn’t take you long to notice that he too was a few drinks in.

Guess this isn’t a sober conversation, huh.

“I’d rather if it stays like that,” you mumbled as you watched him push a bottle of cold water towards you.

“Come on, this is a quieter spot. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now,” He leans in, just like Trent did with Frankie.

It felt so weird being close to him like this after so long. It felt like getting something you’ve wanted for so long but you were scared that you got the wrong thing. Does that even make sense?

“How's your sister and your niece?” You asked since there was no escape.

“They’re fine. Both of them, Lily still cries a lot but they’re good,” he voices as he sips from his own drink.

You unscrew the water bottle and take a big gulp out of it. Why were your hands so sweaty now? You didn’t have an answer to that so you just nodded and looked around the room as less and less people filled the dance floor and the bar.

“You look beautiful,” his compliment breaks the silence and goes straight to those confusing thoughts you were having. You have to control yourself. “I thought a lot before talking to you earlier, but I just couldn’t help myself when you looked like this. So pretty”

Even with his sweet words you couldn’t forget who he was and the history between the two of you. It was hard because even if you denied it a part of you still missed him so much. I mean, you shared years of your life with him so it isn’t that easy to ignore how much his absence affects you sometimes.

“What are you doing here, Drew?” The words leave your mouth before you could even process the thought.

He doesn’t say anything for a while and you finally look at him. His hair was slightly darker than it was months ago, the low cut shirt he is wearing gives you a peak of his chest hair and some freckles he has there. Looking into his eyes made your blood freeze for a second, it was like you were drowning in the bluest sea.

He scratched his overgrown beard while he looked down at the cup he was drinking from.

“I miss you,” He confesses with a sigh.

You shake your head as you set the water bottle back on the table.

“No, you can’t do this now,” You say and pray that he can hear you over the music. “Not after everything.”

“I-I fucked up and I know that,” he admits and that makes you feel dizzy. “I want to make things right between us.”

“Oh, now? You don’t even know if I have someone,” you scoff. “How’s Odessa by the way?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s been a while since I last talked to her,” he says.

“Well so it’s best if I look over your shoulder since she might pop up from thin air,” your snide remark doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not here to talk about anyone else but us. So can we please do that? Let’s find somewhere where we can actually talk because you just left and I know that what I did was the radon to that, but still.”

Your eyes met his for the second time that night and without much thought you found yourself nodding. You texted Frankie letting her know that you’d be getting an Uber home so she didn’t have to worry about you and in the next second you were following your ex out of the club.

It didn’t shock you that he was still living in the apartment you used to share. It looked almost the same just a few new pieces of furniture decorating the space and you couldn’t help but ask yourself if she had helped him to pick them out.

“Do you, uhm, wanna drink something?” He asked after he locked the door behind you.

“Yeah, I could use a glass of water.”

“Okay, lemme get that for you,” he says and walks to the kitchen.

You stay in the living room and take it all in. Why does his house feel this warm? Why did you feel comfortable in a place you chose to leave? Why wasn’t this freaking you out anymore? Before you could begin to dwell in any of those questions, his footsteps against the wooden floor pulled you from your thoughts.

“Here,” he hands you the filled glass.

“Thanks,” you say before taking a small sip from it.

“So, how have you been?” He asks and you can see that he immediately regrets it, “Fuck that’s a stupid question.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that and he quickly follows suit.

“I am okay. I’ve been worse, I’ve been better” you admit to which he only nods.

“I felt like shit, you know? I knew I was fucking up but I was so entranced by everything that was happening that I didn’t realize how much it was affecting you,” he says as he leans against the wall.

“It wasn’t easy for me to come up to you and say those things but I was so fed up that I didn’t know what to do anymore,” you admit as you take a step closer to him without even realising.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t care about you or your feelings.”

“I guess I just didn’t want to be an intruder in our own relationship. There was a point where I felt like I needed to talk to her to get to you. And I know there is history between you two, I just didn’t want to doubt that there was still something going on.”

You sigh as one of your fingers traced the rim of the glass.

“I mean, there were a few times that I called your phone and she was the one picking it up. That made me feel so insecure and so scared that I was being lied to.”

“I-what? I didn’t know that.” He truly seemed surprised by your words.

“Well,” you scoff as you shake your head, “I guess she never told you that I called you then.”

You turn around and put the glass on the centre table. He simply watched you and even if he might not admit it yet seeing you in his house again made something in chest warm. Something in him just told him that you belonged there.

“You see, this is what I am talking about.” You add without turning to look at him. “This shouldn’t be normal.”

“I really didn’t know and when I looked at my calls registry your name wasn’t there so I assumed she was telling the truth.”

He did feel guilty about that, but he wasn’t lying. He truly didn’t know of that happenstance.

You sigh and you look back at him, your eyes burning as you feel a deep sense of deja vu.

“I really thought you were it for me, you know?” You confess and a tear streams down your face.

As if it was a reflex thing, he immediately reaches for you and wipes the tear off your face.

“I am so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that,” he says looking into your eyes.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the vulnerability that enveloped the both of you, but you couldn’t help more tears from following that first one. It felt so calming to be talking about this with him after so long, like a ton was being taken out of your chest. Obviously you had people to talk to but it wasn’t the same.

You rested your head on his shoulder as his hands were on the back of your neck. He went in for the first touch, his lips kissed the top of your head. That made you tense up for a second and as you looked up your gaze was immediately captured by his.

His nose touched yours first and as he leaned in for your lips, you couldn’t help but pull back. That happened twice more and you knew that he was frustrated but you were just so scared of opening up to him again.

“Please,” he begs with a breathy voice and as you look into his eyes you are able to see the same man you fell in love with years ago.

After that you didn’t resist anymore and his lips quickly found yours.

Oh.

One of his hands cradled your face as he deepened the kiss and the other was occupied squeezing the softness of your hips. Now, you could’ve lied to yourself about many things, but this was never one of them. He knew exactly where to touch you and how to do it.

You pressed your body against his and the sigh that left your lips when you felt his bulge pressed on your stomach. He moaned on your lips at the pressure and in a blink of an eye you had your legs wrapped around him.

He now held you with one of his arms as he guided the both of you towards the bedroom. His lips didn’t leave yours, the only time he broke the kiss was when he pulled your lower lip between his teeth, but in the next second he was devouring them again.

When he reached the bedroom he didn’t bother to close the door. He laid you on the bed and you breathlessly watched him pull his shirt off with one hand before he knelt between your legs.

Please God, don’t make me regret this.

💖taglist💖: @emmaafinchh @rafecamerons-national-anthem @bvleeeeeee @a-j-stuffs @maybankslover @lovelylove268 @cooper8224 @esquivelbianca @dreamybabbyy @lulubabii @idiotussupremus @drewsphswife @ietss @noneofyabuisnezs @chenslucy @yvbe99 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @theeternaloptimistt @roselibrary @daddydraco0 @iheartcats444 @allopathi

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x black reader #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #Drew starkey x fem reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx

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yuikira · 22 hours ago

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Kinich's birthday special!

ugh yall dont get it how much I love him. literally wrote this in between val matches😭🙏

warnings: nsfw, dirty talk, sex

"focus, i said focus baby"

"l-like i ca- uuuughh please ichi"

"hm? what's the matter?"

"this is!"

and it was. i mean, who could blame you really? he had you sat on his lap, teaching you how to play valorant just like he did. dont get him wrong, you're an excellent player, with diamond rank 1 last season, but "you can do better, yeah? lemme show you" those were his words. and now he has you sitting on his lap, his cock buried deeeep inside of you, one arm around your waist and one around your own palm resting on the mouse.

and fuck did he love it when you scored a kill? he'd thrust upwards, gently digging his fingers into your waist, that gets all the more better when you score an ace. it drove you to do more, to preform better, to get the reward you deserve, but also to go insane, to just toss away all your setup and bounce on his lap until you both can't help but moan shamelessly into each other's ears. he was such a menace, but you also loved this side of him.

"there you go, wasn't that hard was it?" he remarked as he saw +35 rr on your screen, ranking up to platinum 3.

"we still have a long way to go tho, I'm not leaving this until we reach radiant"

"radiant?! that's so far away!"

"that's the fun you wanted, didn't you baby?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY beautiful, pretty, adorable, cute, exquisite, attractive, gorgeous, alluring, captivating, bewitching, appealing, charming, lovely, delectable, enchanting, glorious, magnificent, angelic, sexy, stunning, superb, aesthetic, flawless, splendid, glamourous, seductive, luscious, enchanting, exceptional, first class, beckoninf, beguiling, bonny, breathtaking, dashing, divine, dreamy, exceptional, hot, ineffable, jaunty, mesmerizing, ravishing, scrumptious, PERFECT husband💗💗💗 I love you so much.

#kinich x reader smut #genshin x reade #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #kinich x you #kinich x reader #I LOVE HIM RAHH #yall dont fucking get it i love him so much #FUCK I LOVE HIM

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fuctacles · 13 hours ago

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Pippin the Fluffy, Guardian of Pants

for @steddiemicrofic "guard" | T | 532 | no cw | one night stand, strangers to lovers, musician Eddie, evil little dog

The guy's name is Steve, he's sweet, and he made Eddie ache in the best way.

But now it was time to go.

He isn't proud of it, but it's what he does. All his partners so far hated the long distance of touring, which isn't something he's ready to leave behind. His band is gaining momentum right now and they all agreed sacrifices need to be made if they want to make it big. Dating is one of them.

So Eddie leaves every hook-up, no matter how hot they are, how sweet they talk to him, how good they smell.

How evil their Pomeranian is.

"Dude," Eddie hisses in exasperation the second time the little dog bares his teeth at him. He's usually great with dogs and loves most of the little creatures but this guy seems to have a vendetta against him. He's sitting on top of Eddie's pants like he's Smaug guarding his pile of gold and treasures. The most Eddie's managed to put on is his boxers but the rest of his clothes are under the dog's little body. And it's adamant about staying there.

"Fine. Be like that," he huffs. Maybe if he goes to use the bathroom, the dog will move, join his owner on the bed, or something.

When he returns, the dog watches him smugly, still leaving its light hair on his black clothes. Eddie sighs, now resigned to a scavenger hunt for dog treats. He's starting to consider getting back in bed because going through a stranger's cupboards feels like a new low.

Thankfully he finds a packet of treats in plain sight. He picks it up happily, but his smile falls instantly when the dog spots the bag.

The little fluffy ball stands up, the hair across its spine raising while it bares its fangs, and Eddie is losing his confidence at an alarming rate. It's like the dog is offended that he's trying to bribe him.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" he whispers heatedly, looking into its beady eyes. "I just want my pants!"

"Pippin!"

His heart almost falls out of his chest. The dog meanwhile, apparently named Pippin, jumps onto the bed happily, all signs of malice gone.

Eddie laughs awkwardly now that his hook-up is awake and puts the treats away before bending down to retrieve his stuff.

"Your dog is insane, man. He wouldn't get off my clothes."

Steve hums.

"I trained him to do that."

"What?" Eddie looks at him in confusion. Now that he's awake, he feels weird about just leaving.

"Got tired of everyone leaving without a word. So I taught him to guard their clothes on the floor," he admits while scratching at Pippin's fur.

Eddie gapes at him.

"But by all means," Steve motions at the door. "I had fun, hope you did too."

"You're insane," Eddie says instead of something more appropriate. "I'm... I move a lot so I'm not looking for anything serious right now."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"I was hoping for a second round, not a marriage proposal."

Eddie considers him for a second before placing his clothes on a nearby chair.

"Well, in that case..."

#dont worry Eddie gets his number after it fully registers Steve has a dog named after a LOTR character #steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficnovember #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine #cj x steddiemicrofic

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cupidhoons · 19 hours ago

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in which . . . keeping quiet seems to be the hardest assignment yet — sjy x f! reader ୨୧ brother's bestfriend! au wc tba ・ w kissing, SUGGESTIVE!! jake is a teasing little twat uhhh idk + likes n' feedback are greatly appreciated !

A/N 💌 please don't cancel me for making romance & tension in this fic for i am just a girl who writes fics for the people xx

THE EVENING WAS QUIET, a calm blanket of silence settling over the house as you huddled at your desk, surrounded by notes and open textbooks. Midterms were creeping up fast, and the thought of failing wasn’t an option. You were so focused on your work that you nearly missed the sound of your window sliding open.

You jumped slightly but relaxed as soon as you saw Jake—your brother's best friend, and your secret boyfriend—slipping into your room with that boyish grin of his. His eyes lit up when they met yours before giving a quick glance toward the door, fully aware of the risk he was taking.

“Jake, are you insane?” you whispered, barely able to contain the mix of annoyance and excitement in your voice. “If my brother finds out you’re here…”

Jake only smirked as he pressed a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet. "What can I say? Missed you too much to wait," he murmured softly, his voice low and teasing. He shut the window behind him and moved closer, his presence sending a thrill up your spine.

He settled in beside you, looking down at your notes with an exaggeratedly serious face as if he were actually interested. But his arm brushed against yours, and his eyes drifted away from the notes, focused solely on you. "So, how’s the studying going?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but his hand was already sliding to rest on your shoulder.

“Painful, thank you for asking,” you muttered, feigning annoyance even as your heart raced at his touch. You tried to keep your attention on the textbook, but Jake’s fingers lightly traced patterns along your shoulder, and his gaze was far too tempting.

Before you could say anything else, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You look stressed,” he whispered, his lips so close to your skin. “Maybe I can help you relax.”

“Jake,” you whispered in a warning tone, glancing nervously at the door. “My brother’s just down the hall. If he catches you here—”

“Then we’ll just have to be quiet,” he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, pulling you gently toward him, and despite every warning in your head, you let yourself melt into his touch.

His lips brushed against your jaw, soft and featherlight, trailing down to your neck as he shifted closer. You bit down on your lip, suppressing a sigh as his hands traced slow, lazy patterns along your back. He was everywhere at once—his fingers in your hair, his lips leaving sparks across your skin.

“Jake,” you breathed out. The tension of keeping quiet only added to the thrill, and he knew exactly how to keep you on edge.

“Don't worry, baby” he murmured, lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. You felt his grin against your skin, cocky and confident, and it made your pulse quicken. He pulled you closer, claiming your lips in a kiss that was slow and teasing. You tried to stay still, but every part of you was drawn to him, aching for more.

His hands roamed down your back, slipping under the hem of your shirt, and his every touch made your heart pace faster. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, his warmth spreading through you, but every nerve was also focused on staying silent, on not giving in to the urge to gasp or sigh.

You pulled back for a breath, eyes darting toward the door. "Jake, we’re going to get caught," you managed to whisper, but your voice sounded as breathless as you felt.

Jake just smirked, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Then we better be careful,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing rumble. He leaned in again, his kisses growing deeper, each one leaving you more breathless than the last. His fingers traced along your waist, his touch firm but gentle, as though he was savoring every second.

He pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his movements becoming bolder. You stifled a gasp as he traced along your jaw, his lips moving lower, but he was relentless, brushing his lips along every sensitive spot he knew would make you squirm.

The door creaked somewhere down the hall, and you froze, wide-eyed, but Jake only paused for a second, grinning as he held a finger to his lips. He placed a lingering kiss on your shoulder, his touch featherlight and teasing, before drawing back just enough to look at you, his eyes full of mischief.

“Guess I should probably get out of here soon, huh?” he whispered, although he didn’t seem to be in any rush to move. He held your gaze for a second longer, leaning in one last time, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that left you wanting more.

He pulled away with a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down your arm one last time. "Try to focus, alright?" he murmured with a grin, slipping back to the window. But he glanced back at you before he left, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he snuck into your room.

#۪ ࣪ 𓂃 ୨୧ 𓈒 ◌ MADEWiTHLOVE.#jake #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jake sim imagines #enhypen smau #sim jaeyun x reader #jake fluff #jake enhypen

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animeyanderelover · 3 days ago

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Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, abduction, manipulation, threats, the Zoldyck family is a trigger warning in itself

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @hyakki-yosai @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @nightmaresprophet @lovley-valentine7

Platonic Yandere

Kurapika Kurta

⛓️Too much. Kurapika saw too much of himself in you when he found you one day in the aftermath of another masacre caused by the Phantom Troupe, one of the few survivors left. Your family gone. Your friends gone. Your home gone. Initially his plan only saw it for him to bring you to safety, to find someone who would take care of you as his own lifestyle consists only of revenge and hatred for the criminals who took everything from him. Still, Kurapika isn't heartless as his worries for you lead him to spend time with you as you only put your trust in him for quite a few weeks after the incident. There's so much innocence in those eyes, almost too much innocence for someone like him. Hatred has been one of the first emotions that he felt after his clan was brutally murdered yet perhaps you are still too young to feel such black feelings. Adolescence for Kurapika has been ruined for Kurapika, his hatred guiding his every action and limiting his freedom. It's not like Kurapika regrets any of this for it is the only path he could have chosen for himself yet in you he sees a chance to protect something that he couldn't be protected from after the Phantom Troupe took everything from him.

⛓️Stranger means danger. A concept that Kurapika teaches you quite early as he slowly starts getting more involved in raising you. Others keep on telling him that he is far too overbearing, far too restricting yet the truth is none of them could understand you two for none of them have experienced the same pain that you have gone through. The story of your losses is almost identical which is why Kurapika finds himself sharing his past with you soon yet he harshly forbids you from following his example of hunting down Chrollo. This is a burden he alone has to bear. For you he wants something different. He wishes for you to live a normal life, though the concept of living a normal life underneath his guidance is already very different than what the majority would consider the norm. After all Kurapika keeps you largely sheltered, away from a world where too many people would backstab and betray you for money and power. Trust him, he has encountered all of those people before and whilst there may be some people out there who are better than others he insists on you understanding that ultimately only he will understand you best for he knows what you have gone through.

⛓️Shielded away from all potential happiness yet also all potential pain for Kurapika dreads to take a risk with you, you mostly remain with only him as you rarely stay long enough in a city or new place to bond with those Kurapika carefully selects to look after you when he has to do something for which he can't take you with him. Family is insanely important to Kurapika and even though you two are not related by blood he often tells you this. He's never outright demanded for you to refer to him under a fitting term though as you are the one who refers to him as your older brother at one point. He has always known that you have seen him as family because he has pretty much raised you up on that belief even if some others would criticise him for his questionable methods. He's extremely touched though when the word "brother" leaves your lips for the first time as he hasn't been called anything remotely close to this ever since his clan was murdered. This strange warmth in his chest appears whenever you call him that, his grip always subtly tightening on you as soon as he hears the word as it only seems to solidify the responsibility that he has to protect you.

Illumi Zoldyck

🤎Illumi stumbles upon you during a mission he has received, though you are not directly a part of it. Your orphanage just happens to be in the same district that his targets resides in and you just happen to be able to use Nen which catches his attention. Yes, he has been able to se Nen in your age already as well but for someone outside of his family to already possess such an ability is rare, especially since you don't seem to be even aware of it. A natural. A rarity. Unable to just ignore you Illumi finds himself with two options. Option one is to eliminate you before you may grow up to be a threat for his family. Option number two is to polish this diamond and use it for his own advantages. With zero awareness of how proper social interaction works he finds himself approaching you on the playground one day, noticing how other kids avoid you as they mostly sense the Nen around you though they don't know what it is. Curious yes stare up as he bends down, blinking at the sand castle you're trying to build before he asks you if you'd be interested to join his family and be trained by him to be an assassin. Your mistake simply was to believe that the mister in front of you was only joking.

🤎Everyone is flabbergasted when Illumi returns from his mission whilst holding you in his arms, simply stating that he will train you from now on. Kikyo in particular is quite skeptical but Zeno and Silva seem to tolerate it mainly because they also sense that you seem to have a lot of potential. The fact remains that you do not hold the same rights and worth as a biological Zoldyck though and this subtle discrimination is something you notice as you grow up. It's this fact that Illumi often finds himself abusing to strengthen the loyalty and connection that you feel for him. He doesn't want you to bond with other people in this household so even if you attempt to forge a connection or someone from his family attempts to get to know you better he always manipulates the situation so that you only end up getting hurt. The easiest solution is to let you spend time with Kikyo who hates you and wails and complains in your presence about how you're nothing special in comparison to her darling Killua and how she doesn't understand why you're still here. Killua is probably the one Zoldyck you are somewhat allowed to hang around with though Illumi strives to control both of you.

🤎 For Illumi his family is everything. However, for you he should be your only family. He wants you to ignore the rest of the Zoldyck members because in his own strange view he believes that he is indeed the only family to you. After all it was him who took you away from this orphanage where your potential would have only been wasted and where you would have rotted away. After all he is the one who provided you shelter and gifts you something whenever you improve. After all you listen to him, mainly because he has used his ability to use a little needle to make you more obedient to him. Illumi differs from Kurapika in the aspect that he demands from you to refer to him as your older brother to finally receive the final assurance that you know who he is to you. It slips out of you whilst you're training with him and are pushed beyond your limits, begging him to give you a break. In the next moment he is instead directly in front of you, moving so fast that you barely notice him. Dark eyes threaten to suck your soul out of your eyes as he asks you to repeat that once more for him, sounding almost excited. Whilst he may not show it he is extremely satisfied, he even gives you the little break you're pleading for.

Silva Zoldyck

🐺Apologies cannot be spilled enough as one of the servants of the Zoldyck household is forced to announce that their grandchild, which they have recently started taking with them to teach them how to be a good servant, has somehow escaped and now they're unable to find them. A minor problem in Silva's eyes as he just lets the butlers of this household handle that matter. It is at least irrelevant until Mike, the family dog, brings you back as you're placed on his back and just giggle happily. Mike doesn't just trust anybody, not even the butlers of this household so it is quite remarkable that a small child like you managed to tame him to the point where he allows you to jump on his back. Silva is somewhat intrigued to say the least, quickly dismissing the apologies of your grandparent and telling them that it's quite alright. Blue eyes linger on you for a little longer until he eventually leaves. As you're still in training Silva doesn't see you too often the following weeks but it doesn't escape him that Mike continues playing with you and it only festers his growing curiosity. After all Mike is usually only that affectionate with members of the Zoldyck family.

🐺Eventually his fascination gets the better of him and one day he follows Mike, mildly surprised to see Mike laying on his back and exposing his belly as he allows you to pet him there. Obviously you haven't been properly taught just who he is yet or perhaps you just don't see the reason behind being overly respectful as you notice Silva and run over to him, speaking informally to him. Under normal circumstances he would consider it an audacity but strangely enough he finds it weirdly amusing as not even his own children have spoken to him that way. The only person who has ever conversed so casually with him is his own father. As you excitedly gush about Mike and how much of a good boy he is, Silva finds himself actually listening to your rambles before he eventually brings you back to the other butlers. Needless to say though, after that day he finds himself actually seeking you out more often and mostly he just follows Mike as the dog also spends time with you nearly every day. It's not all fun and games though as very soon Silva actually suggests training you when noticing that you're still quite clumsy and inexperienced despite the potential that you hold.

🐺The possessive strictness takes more than just a few months to develop for Silva though. After all he is the patriarch of his family, all bound by blood so it takes an expected amount of time until he eventually starts recognising you as more than just a butler that he highly respects. The moment that switch has happened he turns very overbearing though as he insists for you to move into the actual manor of the family and there is little your grandparent gets to say about that. Everyone who even as much as dares to voice their disagreement with his decision will immediately receive punishment and not even family is safe from those oppressing glares he gives them, especially Milluki and Kikyo receive a lot of them. It takes you quite a bit to get used to that new lifestyle but since you basically grew up in this place with Mike and Silva you do not hold as much resentment against him as you perhaps should. Now, Silva doesn't often let his emotions get the better of him but he allows himself that moment of pride that swells his chest when you call him for the first time your father. After all it symbolises to him that you finally have accepted your new life in his family.

Kanroji Mitsuri & Iguro Obanai

💓🐍Left in the rubbles of a house Mitsuri finds you, wrapped in blankets and screaming at the top of your lungs. She bursts out in tears immediately, guilt and sorrow invading her heart as she realises that she was too late to save your parents, leaving you all alone. Carefully she lifts you up, tears still dropping down her face yet she knows that her own sadness would only affect you more so she forces herself to smile as she tries to cheer you up. Your parents lived far away in a rural era with no relatives that could take you in and when someone on her team mentions that they might just have to give you to an orphanage Mitsuri vehemently refuses. That would be far too heartless! This is all her fault. If she would have only arrived sooner, if she would have only been faster you wouldn't have needed to end up all alone. Unable to live with the idea of giving you away to an orphanage Mitsuri decides on a whim that she will adopt you with almost everyone on her team going into shock when she announces her decision with tears in her eyes. As a Hashira she failed to protect your parents but the very leasr she can do is not fail you, the cild of the ones she was supposed to protect.

💓🐍Obanai initially views you with nothing but jealousy as Mitsuri spends a lot of time with you, coddling you and gushing over you. Truly, sometimes he glares at you with his mismatched eyes, a scowl on his face whenever Mitsuri pinches your cheeks softly and talks to you adoringly. His pettiness is honestly amusing to the point where Sanemi and Shinobu end up teasing him. Mitsuri, in firm belief that Obanai has a soft heart, leaves him sometimes in charge of you though when she has to fulfill a mission and he always does so begrudgingly, often staring at your little form and hissing at you that you won't steal her away from him. One day whilst you're crying and he's forced to lift you up and bounce you up and down in his arms you actually undo the bandages on his face with your grabby hands, both of you freezing as he stares unmasked at you. For on brief moment he almost has the urge to throw you away, fearing that you'll start crying. Instead you laugh. Not mockingly but in that childlike innocence as you stare at his hideous face. The paternal love arrow shoots him straight through his heart in that moment and from that day on he hunts everyone done who ever complained about you.

💓🐍Mitsuri is openly affectionate. She bakes for you or with you. She effortlessly lifts you up and spins you around whenever you ask her, she draws and paints with you and plasters every wall full with everything you drew. Obanai isn't as openly affectionate but he is deeply protective. As soon as someone nags about your screams he's suddenly behind them with his blade pressed against their neck. He allows his pet snake to bite everyone who speaks ill of you and whenever anyone or anything scares you he scares them in return for the rest of their lives. You've basically been raised by them so it's no surprise that your first words include you calling them "mama" and "dada" respectively. Mitsuri sheds tears of joy and guilt at that as she still tends to bemoan the fact that she couldn't save your real parents even though she could not imagine giving up on you now. Obanai funnily enough thinks of Mitsuri as deserving of being called mother by you yet he holds insecurities about himself as he wonders if he'll be a good father to you as he was never raised properly nor had he father present in his life. Both of them pretty much just end up soothing each other and calling the other one the better parent

Gojo Satoru

🩵Quiet, anxious, overly cautious of everyone. When Yaga brings you one day into the Jujutsu High, you remind him more of a frightened animal with fear-based aggression than anything else. Listening to the Principle though Gojo has a hard time blaming you. Born as the child of non-sorcerers, from a very small age plagued by the horrifying sight of curses with no one to believe you until the torment became too much and you ran away from home as everyone around you slowly started to believe that you were mentally ill. Necessary arrangements have already been made with your parents who have agreed to let you stay in Tokyo. Yaga has already explained the basics to you, explained to you that you are not insane and that the monsters you see are in fact real. The first day Yaga mostly keeps you close by his side and later that night Gojo pouts about it as he would have liked to get to know you better too. He reacts highly offended when Yaga explains to him that he didn't want to scare you on your first day here by letting you anywhere near Gojo. There's no reason to be so down though as Yaga tells Gojo that he will still be a teacher for you, especially since you know little to nothing about this new world.

🩵It is so painfully obvious that you grew up un a rural area, always overwhelmed by all the noises, the lights, the humans and the creatures. It makes Gojo quite protective whenever he walks with you around Tokyo as he wants to introduce the city life to you. He's deeply sad as well as offended when he offers you sweets and you ask him what they are as those candies aren't something you ever saw in your small village. After that he makes it his mission to introduce every dish and every sugary treat in this city to you and it always brightens up a stressful day when you taste a cake or ice cream flavor you never had before and light up when you realise that it's delicious. When you one day spotted a crane game shop and spotted a cute plushie Gojo noticed, dragged you inside the shop and basically blew all of his coins on winning you everything you wanted inside there. Yaga could only stare in exasperation as the white-haired menace returned, hands full of bags with everything he had won you. Obviously Gojo defended his actions. Your room is after all so terrible bleak. He introduces you to Megumi as well who sarcastically remarks that his teacher is collecting children like some do Pokemon.

🩵A happy childhood is something Gojo never received, his blessing simultanously his curse. You will never grow up like most other children your age either. But at the very least he can provide you with a childhood infinitely better than his own. Beneath that cheerful grin a deep-rooted paranoia festers, an overwhelming desire to protect you from all evil in this world. Gojo doesn't want you to go out there and fight curses. He wants you to live a normal life away from everything that goes down in this world and he fights for you and protects you for that sake with that carefree grin on his face. It is that grin that momentarily fades when you call him papa for the first time as not even you realise what you have said. Not until you hear him audibly choking on his melon soda, blue eyes gazing at you in shock as he coughs for his life. The moment he has finally stopped nearly choking he leans down, a strange look in his eyes as he asks you quietly to repeat that. It's the way you tilt your head, trying to recall what it was you just said before repeating the word papa to him once more that he almost feels like crying as in that moment the world grows even more dangerous and you infinitely precious.

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artslovergirl · 2 days ago

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art & patrick at mark rebellato academy

[headcanons]

notes: i really enjoyed writing this because i just genuinely adore these characters and this movie so much. there's so many interesting little details and nuances there that i could just talk about forever and ever. i truly hope i did them justice here lol (also writing this made me jealous of people that are good at writing character analysis' and thinkpieces bc wow it is hard!) but yeah enjoy!

wordcount: 3.4k

they met at age 12 during their first day at the mark rebellato academy in their now shared room.

when art came in with a duffel bag (that looked comically big next to his scrawny kid body) patrick was already sitting on the bed he had claimed(the right side next to the door) all by himself, his parents didn't have a very tearful nor long goodbye as they sent their son off to boarding school.

in contrast art’s mom and grandma seemed keen to embarrass him in front of his new roommate with their cooing and hugging him goodbye.

it wasn't even like his mom and him were really all that close though. she just seemed to want to squeeze in all the moments of a loving mother-son relationship into the small segments of time she actually spent with him.

the goodbye hug and small ruffle of his hair from his grandma felt a little more genuine. embarrassing all the same as he could feel the other dark haired boy try not to crack up at the display.

"mom. please." he pleaded with her as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "i’m sorry, artie, but i need to make up for all the time i'm gonna miss with you!" yeah, he bets.

a few minutes later and a tear or two from his mother they did finally leave him be. as soon as he heard the door shut though, the awkward silence enveloping the room almost made him miss them.

he threw his duffel bag on the left bed and sat down on the edge. he fidgeted with his bottom lip, a nervous habit he's had for as long as he could remember.

the brunette boy shifted on the bed so he was now facing him. his mouth pulled into a toothy grin "so you're...artie?"

art groaned and hid his head in his hands, slumped over his knees. "no, that's..just my moms nickname for me. sorry you had to see that." he says in a squeaky broken voice which didn't help the embarrassment he was already feeling.

the other boy just brushed right past all that and said "i’m patrick." and then as an afterthought, "zweig."

"uh." art leaned back up, still avoiding his gaze. it was weirdly intense. "yeah, i’m..art. um, donaldson." he said the last part like it was a question almost.

patrick began to swing his legs a little. it was clear to him that art was the quiet type even if they had just exchanged a few words so far, but luckily patrick didn't mind talking. it was something his father always hated about him. he almost talked enough for both of them which after a little while finally seemed to break the ice of art's shy exterior.

art didnt know what he thought about patrick yet. he was pretty..confident that was for sure. even a little arrogant, maybe. art scolded himself internally for being so judgemental. it was quality he hated about himself, but seemingly couldn’t get rid of.

despite all of that he had to admit that patrick was easy to talk to. there was never an uncomfortable gap in conversation with him. which art liked since those kinds of things made him want to crawl out of his skin sometimes.

that first night he spent staying up with patrick, slowly realizing how much they had in common while simultaneously being complete opposites, is one of his fondest memories and probably always will be. he never experienced another connection that felt anything even close to that.

their room wasn't too small but with the way patrick would just constantly toss his clothes wherever he pleased it seemed a lot smaller.

it's not like art was insanely neat or anything, he was still a teenage boy. patrick was just exceptionally messy.

"patrick, this shit is so gross, i told you to use the hamper."

patrick groaned, "youre such a neatfreak, fuck off."

at that response a pair of dirty boxers were thrown at his head, courtesy of art. "i don't want to see or smell your worn underwear. that doesn't make me a neatfreak."

patrick just tossed it back in art’s direction, to which the blonde quickly scurried out of the way to dodge it like his life depended on it.

"you know if tennis doesn't work out for you, you'll make a good housewife." patrick grinned mockingly.

“ha-ha.” art just rolled his eyes, stuck up his middle finger and let the door slam behind him with his racket bag slung over his shoulder.

trying to get patrick to do anything was like trying to teach a cat to do a trick without any treats. borderline impossible. so by age 15 art finally gave up.

...until he realized a year later that patrick would clean his side of the room whenever they had a girl over so..

yeah, sometimes he did lie and tell patrick that a girl was coming over just so he would clean his side of the room.

you can judge him all you want but you never had to room with patrick zweig

and after the third time that trick stopped working anyway. art was never a good liar. or maybe patrick could just call his bullshit way too easily.

they didn't fight too often, it was more like they constantly got into little tiffs

except for that time where it got so out of hand that they duct-taped a line dividing their rooms into two sides. (i know this is giving sitcom i'm sorry but tell me i'm wrong)

eventually they kind of forgot what they even fought about in the first place but they were too lazy to take the tape off of the carpet, so it just stayed on there for like 2 years till it peeled off.

like i mentioned in my other post these two were BITCHES

they would def talk shit all the time. they were not even trying to be secret about it tbh. (see: them staring at anna crying at tashi's party)

they sat in the bleachers watching one of their classmates play a practice match

“dude, look at that forehand. it sucks.” art muttered. patrick nodded, “i know. no way she’ll even make it through the semester.” “i’ll be surprised if she makes it through this match without fracturing her wrist.” patrick snickered at art’s comment.

actual mean girls LMAO

and to be fair, they were fucking amazing at tennis, especially when they played together

so it's not like anyone could necessarily insult them back

but it also wasn't bullying or anything

they were just judgy and loved to talk shit

art had some decorum about it or felt bad about it sometimes. not patrick though.

man has no shame. never did. as art so lovingly puts it “the part of his brain that feels shame withered away a long time ago.”

art wore glasses from ages 12 till 14

he then switched to contact lenses because patrick said girls dont like guys with glasses and that they make him look nerdy

they weren't allowed to have any sort of electronics like computers or flip phones at the academy. not even mp3 players.

now obviously patrick completely ignored that rule. he had like three flip phones under his bed in case his actual one ever got taken (it did)

he also smuggled in 2 mp3 players (one was for art, patrick is so kind… he did charge him 4 dollars for it though. that rich asshole. lmao)

honestly i would like to insert here what i think they would have listened to but..i was like..a baby when they wouldve been at the academy so..feel free to drop your music headcanons in the reblogs or comments

they were only allowed one weekly call to their families from the communal landline.

neither patrick nor art were very fond of these calls so even though they weren't supposed to they would always go into the phone room together.

patricks mother always insisted on speaking in german with her son. he thought she only did it because it made her feel more connected to his father’s side of the family. not like it would fix their fucked up marriage though.

“nein, mama, ich habe mein deutsch nicht vergessen.” (no, mom, i havent forgotten my german) he sighs. art sits on the floor next to him and flicks a rubber band at him. “ja, verstanden. ja, ich weiß.” (yes, understood. yes, i know.) he rolls his eyes.

art understood a few of the basic words since patrick taught him some german after art asked how to correctly pronounce his last name.

“..bis nächste woche. tschüss.” (talk to you next week. bye.) he hung up. his mom said i love you but he knew she didn't mean it so he didn't say it back.

patrick groaned and stretched out his legs that were seemingly getting longer by the day (art secretly prayed for a growth spurt that would make him taller than patrick. right now he was still pretty short for a guy his age.)

he handed the phone to art. “she always talks so much. it's like i'm not even on the other line.” patrick scowls. art just nodded. he knew that by now.

art called his grandma but his dad picked up instead. it was okay. talking to his dad felt a little like talking to some distant uncle that he only saw once a year, “how's it going, champ?” “good.” “great.” that kinda stuff

the phone call lasted 5 minutes. he stood up and hung the phone back on the receiver.

“wanna smoke?” patrick asked already reaching for the two loose cigarettes stuffed into his jean shorts pocket.

art nodded. he didn't really like smoking, and he kind of only did it because patrick did. and whenever he did, all he could think about was how bad for him it was.

he was always pretty conscious about that kinda stuff, it was a little drilled into him by his dad who was the most adamant about art becoming a tennis player since he used to be one when he was younger.

so sugar and fats (basically anything that tasted good) were pretty much banned in the donaldson household

which kind of resulted in art subconsciously believing that anything that brought him joy or pleasure must be inherently bad for him or followed by a feeling of guilt and shame to make up for it.

needless to say art wasn't the best at indulging. he was a little jealous of how patrick never seemed to have any issue with that sort of thing.

patrick didn't care about maintaining a good diet or depriving himself of life's pleasures for the sake of tennis. he took what he wanted like life owed it to him.

maybe that's why he smoked with patrick. to try and be more like him?

also because it gave him a nice sense of rebellion.

most things he did with patrick gave him that feeling.

at the academy they were the definition of ‘not sold separately’

if you saw one the other wasn't far behind

its not like they didn't have other friends. they did. they were pretty popular actually

but none of those friendships were anything like what art and patrick had.

especially when playing doubles.

it felt like they could communicate telepathically

patrick knew when art was going for the ball before the other team even served and vice versa.

tennis felt different when they were playing together. better.

and it felt so easy, it felt like nothing they needed to work on. their friendship was the same. it was so easy, so natural.

after about a year or so of being friends they started being in sync. literally.

they cross their legs at the same time, they pick up their rackets at the same time, they adjust their forehand grip at the same time, they walk at the same pace, they sit down the same etc etc you get it

also that isn't really a headcanon, like this is canon in the movie. and it makes me SICK that they were still in sync in 2019. after not talking for 12 years. shut up that’s some soulmate shit

now let's talk about something else that is canon…the pushed together beds.

yes!

now, i think patrick is a person that is pretty open with his body in general in terms of like being physically affectionate. or just being physical.

i don't know if art is, i think he's a little more reserved. (repressed if you will! i will!)

but patrick touching him so casually does fill a little tiny (gaping) void in him that yearns for touch.

he is a professional yearner as we all know

and patrick never had an issue satisfying those yearnings for him. (i think we saw that in the fact that patrick taught art how to jerk off ok next topic)

patrick would sling his arm around his shoulder, lay his long legs over arts lap, ruffle arts curls (“stop that, you're messing them up.” “no, i'm not they always look like this”),he would barge into their room after practice flopping his tall sweaty body on top of art to annoy him.

they were very physically affectionate it was just all under the guise of shoving and tripping each other and just general teenage boy roughhousing shenanigans. that counts as a love language to me ok!

art got used to patrick touching him very quick and even reciprocated sometimes

also i do think that sometimes patrick would smack art’s ass as a joke. lol. (that's inspired by that video of the two doubles players doing that…do you guys know what i’m talking about)

OK SO!

the beds.

they were 16. patrick suggested it. “these beds are too fucking small.” he complained, laying on his staring at the smoke detector that he had covered with a shower cap so it wouldnt detect the smoke from his cigarettes.

and to be fair…yeah. patrick stood at 1,80 cm right now and his feet were hanging over the edge of the bed.

art looked up from his book which he was only reading to impress a girl he had a crush on. patrick had told him to just pretend he read it but art said that was disingenuous and he wanted to know what she liked and why she liked it.

“you know what we should do? we should push our beds together.” patrick sat up, grinning like he just had the best idea ever.

arts features twisted up in thought. “isn't that a little close?”

“nah, why, we still have our own beds. just more space.” patrick shrugged.

he glanced at their beds. “uhhh…i guess we can do that. the beds are a little cramped. although is that even allowed?” art began fidgeting with his lip like he usually did when he was in thought.

but patrick was already in the process of shoving his bed next to arts after which he let himself fall onto the two beds in a starfish position, with his gangly limbs almost stretching to every corner of the beds. “oh. great. and i’ll just curl up at the foot of the bed then?” art gave patrick a deadpan stare.

“up to you.” patrick grinned in that specific way that really irked art.

patrick did make some space for him once they actually went to sleep that night

even now they were two opposites making a whole

patrick always ran cold so he hogged all the blankets and art always ran hot so he immediately kicked them off of him as soon as he fell asleep

that only made this new pushed together beds thing even better for patrick because he now got to have his own blanket AND steal arts every night

i wouldn't say they cuddled necessarily? i think it was more just like the regular amount of physical touching that happens when you sleep in the same bed

which is still pretty intimate to me idk about you guys

like their legs kind of thrown over each others, art’s arm occasionally draped over patricks chest (or literally on his face. art denies every time that he does it on purpose but patrick KNOWS he does it to annoy him. he knows.)

one time art had a nightmare of being trapped under a rock only to wake up and find out that somehow patrick had rolled over in the middle of the night and was now laying COMPLETELY on top of art. right before he was about to push him off (because he was making art actively suffocate) patrick rolled over again and fell out of bed. he didn't even wake up from that. genuinely just slept on the floor that night. freak of nature that guy.

also patrick for sure twitches like a dog in his sleep

and i think it used to wake art up because he's a pretty light sleeper but eventually he just got used to it lol

when art went to stanford he never finished the last bite of anything he ate because he was so used to patrick being next to him and just stealing the last bite.

patrick really really wanted to get his ears pierced when he was 15.

so naturally he asked art to do it for him.

you know…like how they did it in the parent trap. which if you asked them is a movie that they definitely haven't seen. ( but they did see it and art cried at the twins reuniting with their parents, oops.)

unfortunately for patrick art was very very squeamish with needles at that age (i think that mellowed down the older he got but he still refused to look whenever he got vaccinations or anything like that.)

so now it was midnight, they were in their room sitting on the floor and arguing

“dude, just do it, stop being such a wuss. you're not even the one getting pierced.” patrick groaned, he had numbed his earlobe with ice but he could already feel a little bit of the feeling return to it, that's how long they had been sitting there with art squirming around because he hated even looking at the sewing needle.

“that's worse though because i have to look at the needle going in your ear!” art argued

“ well, i can't do it myself.” patrick replied.

...

“are you wearing my shirt?” art squinted at him

“stop trying to change the subject.”

“i told you to stop stealing my clothes. i don't want to do laundry that often.”

“can you focus?” patrick groaned

“dude.. okay, fine. just give me a second.” art took a deep breath.

“oh. my god. you're not performing open heart surgery.”

“shut the fuck up.”

“you shut the fuck up.”

and what do you know that response got art to get over his fear of needles for a second and stab that thing right through his best friends ear

the little high pitched yelp patrick let out in surprise at that is something art didn't let him forget about for like two weeks after

it took about another hour for art to pierce patricks second ear and eventually they managed but then like a week later patrick forgot to put his earrings in and the piercings immediately grew shut

so all that drama was for nothing!

i think art has always kind of been the type of guy to want domesticity.

i already posted about this somewhere but i kind of came to that conclusion because patrick said “he wants to spend time with his family” to tashi in the alley scene

patrick hadn’t spoken to art for like a decade at that point

and you could say it's a good guess but NO!

patrick knows art like the back of his hand and patrick knows that art has always wanted a family and how much it probably kills him to miss out on time with them due to his career at that point in time (also just throwing this out there i think art always wanted to have a daughter more than a son, like that just makes sense to me. maybe bc i think his own relationship with his dad is so distant? idk!)

so yeah

also the sauna scene where patrick says that marriage isn't what he was for

(to me) also implies that he is the opposite of art who was meant for marriage

anyway do i think that art shared his wishes for a family and marriage in the future with patrick? yes

do i think patrick jokingly made art promise to make him his best man? yeah

and furthermore do i think about the fact that patrick then had to read about arts wedding in some tabloid years later? yep!

i’m sure i could think of more in the future but that's all i've got for now! i hope this was coherent enough to enjoy because it’s not as proofread as my fics usually are lol! i just wanted to get these thoughts out there

if some of these seem familiar it might be because i took some of these from my twt!

i also have some more headcanons floating around on my tumblr that i didn't include here if you want to find those, or not, i'm not your mom!

#challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #artrick #challengers fanfic #challengers headcanons #challengers fic #ames writes~!

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yagirlwrites · 20 hours ago

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Angels & Demons | (Sub!Rafe)

Pairing: sub!Rafe Cameron x domme!Reader

Synopsis: Rafe asks reader to a Halloween bash, proposing they wear matching costumes. They have a conversation on where they stand. Lots of fun at the biggest party of the year.

Warnings: fluff, clingy!rafe, pouty!rafe, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 8.4k (I'm so so sorry I need psychiatric help)

A/N: Hi y'all! It's finally here, ignore the fact that its 10 days late - Happy Halloween🤣 This is really long and fluffy, some steamy scenes as well because it wouldn't be me without them 😘 The smut for the day after the party will be posted soon! Had to separate it because it would have been too damn long to read and y'all deserved to have this as soon as possible. Hope it's not too long anyway 😭 I am sorry for the delay but I hope you enjoy it! As always lmk what you think!

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My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading 🥰

Angels & Demons

"I need you to sit still, baby." His heart soared, as it always did, when she called him that. He was currently sitting at her vanity while she patiently applied glitter to his face.

He felt restless, she was so close and she smelled so nice and she was touching him so gently. Looking at her, so beautiful, right in front of him was driving him insane. It was his own fault for being in this situation, getting ready for a party he suggested they attend. So he really had no right to be acting bratty. He just really wanted to kiss her and she was keeping him hostage in the small chair. The generous view of her cleavage bent over like this, courtesy of her costume, might also have something to do with his fading sanity.

It was a week ago when he suggested they go to the Halloween bash together. It was the biggest party of the year so far, spanning the entire greek street. It was always wild and intense, but he wasn't interested in that this year. He just wanted to spend time with her and his friends, and have a good time. This would technically be their coming out party and he was ecstatic when she said yes to coming. Even more so when he suggested they match their costumes, trying to play it off as no big deal, but in actuality extremely aware of the implications.

"Like, a couple's costume?" It came out of the blue. They had been cuddled up on her couch when he brought up the topic the party and asked if she wanted to come with him. Then he started acting all shy and flustered broaching the topic of outfits.

"Yeah. I don't know if you maybe wanted to match. Might be cool, I don't know." He was blushing in that way that made her heart melt like a popsicle on a hot summer day. He didn't even give her a chance to respond as he continued.

"Unless you don't want to or think it would be weird, it's totally fine we don't have to. It was just a thought..." he trailed off, not meeting her eyes, flustered and insecure. Her heart ached.

"Hey..." her soft palm met his cheek and forced him to look back at her.

"Why would it be weird?" Her gaze was warm and he was blushing even harder now. His thoughts felt scrambled, all the practicing he had done in his head vanishing into thin air when he was so close to her.

"I don't know. Maybe you don't see us..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, not able to finish his thought.

"As a couple?" She offered, trying to help but driving him further up the wall instead. He just shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the coffee table, feeling weak. She pushed him further onto the couch, straddling his lap in order to force him to look at her. His heart felt like it might burst out of his chest.

She said nothing, simply waited for him to speak up. Needing him to talk to her, instead of shutting down. They'd talked about this habit of his, she promised she'd never judge him and he promised he'd try his best to be as open with her as he could. So he had no choice then, not when she was looking at him like that. Not after he made her a promise.

"We never talked about it. So you might not." His eyes were running wildly all over her face, trying to be respectful and not look away but not brave enough to see the possible rejection in her gaze.

"Do you want us to?" He sighed, the feeling of her playing with his hair making him lose the last bit of dignity he had. He was so desperate for her he couldn't cope.

"Maybe..." she shook her head then. She hated that word, wished he would stop using it and just say what he really wants. But she knew it was hard for him so she didn't push it.

"Do you want us to be a couple, Rafe?" His eyes finally met hers, hearing the vulnerability in her voice. When they did, he saw no judgement, no rejection, just kindness. And he didn't have it in him to pretend anymore.

"I do." The beat it took for her to react felt like an eternity, his breath stuck in his throat.

"Good." She smiled, caressing his face so gently he thought he'd cry. She kissed his red cheek and whispered a soft "me too."

His heart skipped at her words, a bright smile finally making it's way onto his face as he hugged her so close, leading them both to almost fall off the couch. The only thing that could be heard in her small appartment was the sound of their giggles as they processed their emotional conversation.

"Fuck, I'm so relieved." He kissed her neck where his head was burried while he held her as close as possible. Her hands running though his hair in that soothing manner she knew he loved. She laughed as he peppered kisses on her skin.

"What? Did you really think I'd say no?" She pulled him back enough to look at his beautiful face. He had a sheepish smile on and his eyes sparkled with joy.

"I don't know." He shrugged in a careless manner, even though they both knew it was a front.

"Oh so you think I just let any guy sleep over and cuddle with me on the couch?" She was giving him a faux offended look and he couldn't help but laugh.

"I don't know, you might..." he grinned and she rolled her eyes.

"Bro, be serious." She pushed off of him to pick up the blanket that had fallen to the floor during their tumble.

"Bro? You can't friendzone me now!" He whined as she stood up, folding the blanket and then throwing it right in his cheeky little face. He let out a surprised yelp and she giggled as he rushed after her on her way to the kitchen. He looked like a lost puppy, incapable of not being near her, it seemed.

"So what's this costume?" He was looking at her throat as she gulped down a glass of water, completely zoned out when she asked the question.

"Huh?" He snapped his eyes back to her face but it was too late, she'd already noticed him ogling her. His ears turned a shade pinker as he tried to play it off.

"The costume you want to wear, what is it?" He looked confused.

"I don't know." He shrugged causing her to raise her eyebrow.

"You don't have a costume in mind?" He shook his head, grinning as he stepped closer to her.

"Whatever you want." She had to refrain from laughing at how cute he was, with his floppy hair and his rumpled clothes and his childlike grin.

"So now I have to come up with a couple's costume even thought it was your idea?" She played annoyed but he could see the smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and connected their foreheads, the intimate banter reducing them both to mush on the inside.

"Yep. Just want everyone to know." He nuzzled his nose into her hair as her fingers ran gently over his back.

"Know what?" He pulled back to look at her then. A rare moment of bravery.

"That I'm yours." Her breath caught in her throat at the way he said it. So sure, so honest, so utterly unashamed. It made butterflies appear in her stomach and she wanted to curse at how much she loved hearing those words come out of his mouth.

"That you're mine?" She kissed his face gently and his smile could not be bigger.

"Mhm. All yours." she blushed from the raw honesty in his words and he noticed. But before he could call her out on it she kissed him, making him forget whatever thought he might have had of teasing her.

It was heaven, whenever their lips met. They felt like they became one and it was so insane to think about that they refused to, simply letting themselves get lost in the pleasure of being with each other.

And now here they were, in her bedroom, putting the finishing touches on the costumes. He admired how stunning she looked, so focused and unguarded. He swore he had never seen a person more beautiful in his life. He couldn't stop a smirk from making its way onto his face as he took in her outfit. The tight leather bustier made her boobs look insane, the short black skirt leaving just enough to the imagination, and the skull shaped lace of her thights hugged her thighs so well he wanted to bite into them.

"One last thing" she positioned the accessory on his head and smiled at the result.

"Perfect." He blushed at the compliment, turning around to face the mirror and finally see her hadiwork.

He looked flushed and soft, the sparkles on his face matching the ones on the halo atop of his head. He was dressed in all white, a button down over a white t-shirt, white pants she made him buy the other day, and white converse on his feet. The silver against the white made him look almost ethereal. He was a literal angel before her eyes and she could not be happier with how it all turned out.

She grabbed her own headpiece, a pair of black horns and completed their couples costume. An angel and a demon. Not the most unique of ideas, however the roles were usually reversed. He told her that when she came up with the concept and all she said was "You're my good boy now, right? You're gonna be my angel." After that he shut up and the flush didn't leave his cheeks for a long time.

He didn't know if she fully understood just how much she affected him when she said stuff like that. Messed with his mind, his heart, twisting him up inside until he feels like falling at her feet. Or maybe she knew exactly how bad he had it for her, and she enjoyed it.

She was taking her sweet time taking him in, critical eye paying attention to every detail waiting to find something she might have missed. Even though it wasn't her idea and she'd never done matching costumes with anyone before, she was feeling super excited at the prospect of the entire campus knowing he was hers. She wasn't a jealous person, but she knew there were girls vying for his attention and now he was making it clear he had no interest in anyone but her. It made her heart feel so full that she had to force herself to stay cool. He did that. He'd come and sweep the rug out from under her in the best ways. One minute she's chill and the next he hits her with this genuine unabashed affection and she's left confused as to how to cope. She wouldn't complain though, it was the best kind of surprise every time it happened.

To think not long ago she had thought he could never be with someone like her, that they weren't compatible. It was laughable now. Every move they made felt perfectly synced, like it was always meant to be the two of them together. And whenever her insecurities would try and weasel into her mind he'd smile at her in that way he did and she'd feel peace again. She knew he still had his demons but since they agreed to be open with each other he seemed more calm, less on edge, like that peace she felt was mirrored in him too. She couldn't quite believe how happy she was.

He was looking at her with those bedroom eyes again and she had to refrain from letting her mind run wild, as his no doubt was. They spent hours getting ready and they had a party to go to.

This would be the first time they arrived together at a party, and while she wasn't particularly bothered about what other people thought, she knew he cared and wanted to show the world they were together now. For real. She understood, they had spent so much time making up for all the months wasted, in their little bubble and while it was amazing and they wouldn't trade it for anything - they did need to step back into the real world. Meet each other's people, be part of each others lives in public too.

He was really excited at the prospect and it warmed her heart to see him so positively nervous about something. Something other than sex, that is. She needed to stop thinking about sex and focus. Party. They're going to a party. She grabbed her purse and took his hand leading them out the door and into the night.

................

Walking into his frat, hand in hand, it felt like the entire house was staring at them. In reality most people didn't pay them a second glance, but it felt like a momentous occasion to him. He had a big, proud smile on his face as he led her through the massive crowd to the kitchen where he knew his friends would most likely be congregated. As they walked in they were met with loud whoops sounding over the music.

"Mistery Girl! You made it!" It was Mac, Rafe's best friend. They'd met several times, and even though he now knew her name, he still clung to the nickname - to Rafe's great annoyance. As expected, Rafe rolled his eyes at his friend. She smiled and greeted his group, some of whom she'd briefly met before, some faces definitely unfamiliar leading Rafe to introduce her.

Rafe went to make her a drink, knowing she prefers a cocktail to a beer. He managed to locate some fruity syrup and decided to mix her a drink himself. He didn't trust any of the already made punches floating around. She deserved the best. Since best wasn't an option, at least better than the terribly tasting jungle juice Mac always made.

Aaron, one of his frat brothers, whom he didn't really care for, decided to stand too close to her for his liking. Rafe was looking at him while making sure not to spill any of the alcohol he was pouring. He didn't like him crowding her and he wanted to get back there to prevent any unfortunate scene that might unfold.

"So you're the devil, huh?" She gave the random man next to her an unimpressed look, taking a step to the side to create space between them. She didn't want to deal with annoying creeps, but she needed to keep her promise and not do anything to offend his friends.

"Just a lowly demon, I'm afraid." She replied to his question, trying to stay polite.

"Ah, I don't see nothing lowly about you, sweetheart." His gaze flashed to her cleavage and her blood started boiling when he leaned into her space again. He was clearly already drunk but her patience was wearing thin.

"Here you go, babe." His voice snapped her out of her reverie, bringing with him a calm she had missed in the past few minutes they were apart. She took the cup from him, relaxing into his chest as he made himself at home at her back, wrapping one arm around her. His eyes were shooting daggers at Aaron, and she had to refrain from smirking, finding his protectiveness endearing.

"This is pretty good, sweet boy." She looked up at him after tasting his conconction and he broke eye contact with Aaron to look back at her, a smile shining on his face at the compliment. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks at the pet name. He had yet to get used to how he felt every time she called him something so sweet and loving. This was the first time she had called him a nickname in public, not thinking anything of it until the pest next to them decided to speak up.

"N'aww ain't that just adorable?" The smile wiped off Rafe's face in record time as he shot daggers at Aaron for the interruption. Jade was getting more and more annoyed by this random guy and she knew Rafe was as well, so she wished to remove them both from his presence. Before she could though, he had to speak again.

"When did you become such a pussy, Cameron?" Rafe rolled his eyes, tired of his bullshit and ready to leave the kitchen but he felt her stiffen in his arms.

"You watch your mouth." Her voice was low and cold, but everyone in the kitchen could hear it nontheless.

"It's okay-" before he got a chance to reassure her that this dickhead's words meant nothing to him, he was interrupted.

"Woah there little lady. You're feisty. She speaks for you now, too? What happened to you, bro?" He was giggling to himself, but none of his other friends seemed amused. She was starting to realize no one liked him, but for the life of her couldn't understand why they tolerated such a piece of shit.

"Listen here, you little cockroach-" she took a step towards him but Rafe snapped into action, wrapping his arm tighter against her and pulling her backwards.

"Rafe..." her tone held a warning, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to let Aaron of all people, ruin their night before it even started.

"Baby, he's not worth it. Everyone knows he's just desperate for attention, since no one's giving him any." His first words whispered to her, but the latter said loud enough for everyone to hear. Aaron flushed red in anger and Mac saw it as his queue to jump in.

"Alright, we get it. You're jealous Rafe has a girl now. My condolences man but we gotta move on, yeah?" The crowd laughed at Mac's jokes making Aaron even more furious, but the friendly arm Mac slung around his shoulder and the beer he handed him managed to distract the drunken douche enough for Rafe to drag her out of the kitchen.

"You should've let me knock him out." Her teeth were clenched and he tried to prevent a smile from breaking out but she looked so adorable, all mad and protective, ready to fight for his honor. He chuckled at the thought and her eyes snapped to him, taking in his face, thinking he's laughing at her.

"Hey. I could take him!" She was offended.

"Oh trust me, I know. I remember just how lethal that right hook can be." His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and she realized he was only teasing her.

"He deserved it." She spoke, no longer upset, feeling her anger leave her body as he swayed them both on the dance floor.

"I know." He was smirking, giving her that annoying yet adorable look, driving her crazy.

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" He sighed, pulling her into his chest, laying his head on top of hers as they danced.

"I don't care enough about his opinion to let him ruin my night." She looked up at him then, realizing he wasn't being a pushover because of his friends, which she worried might have been the reason why he didn't fight back. He was just mature enough not to let some irrelevant twat get under his skin. She smiled at that, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

"That's very grown up of you." She teased and he laughed, glad she was back to normal.

"And you ready to fight him for a stupid comment, is definitely not." She rolled her eyes, a slight blush tinging her cheeks.

He was right, she had promised herself to stay cool but one mean comment aimed at him destroyed her composure. She felt such an intense need to protect him, it was quite confusing and scary. She would have laid that fucker out right there in the kitchen. How embarrassing.

"Hey, I'm not complaining. It was very hot, how protective you got." He was smirking again, the cocky little shit. She rolled her eyes again and pulled him into a kiss, just to shut him up and distract him from her somewhat childish behavior. He moaned into the kiss when her tongue entered his mouth and she smiled when she felt him shiver under her fingertips. He was so easy.

When she broke the kiss he was dazed, chasing her lips to prolong the moment but she simply gave him a sweet peck and pulled away. The pout on his face was adorable, resembling a little kid told he can't have his favorite candy for dinner. She admired the flush of redness on his skin from the brief shared moment and a longing stirred in her belly, resembling the one very clearly written on his face. They both wanted more but this was not the time or the place, so she went back to slowly swaying with him in a soft embrace. He melted into her, as he always did.

The kiss made him crave more but she was making it clear it wasn't going to happen. Not yet, at least. He enjoyed the way she held him though, so warm and soft and protected. It always messed with his emotions but he wasn't ashamed of how much he enjoyed it. Not even a little.

It wasn't long before their peaceful moment got interrupted. Mac nearly knocked them both down in excitement as he announced body shots taking place on the formerly used beer pong table. This was exactly the kind of chaos she'd come to expect from a frat party. Rafe's eyes glistened with mischief and she knew what he was going to say before he even spoke.

"What do you say? Wanna do body shots?" He had a playful smirk on his face, fully expecting her to roll her eyes and reject him.

"Sure." She nearly laughed at how quickly the smirk disappeared, replaced with a confusion which then gave way to cautious excitement. She smiled and took his hand, following where Mac had gone, presumably in the direction of the shots.

Rafe was buzzing with excitement as they made their way to the basement where the den was. That's where they usually used the old ping pong table for beer pong. A crowd was gathered around the table, whooping as a guy finished licking salt off a girl's neck. He couldn't believe she agreed to this. Holy shit.

They made their way to the table, waiting for another couple to finish, being next in line. Rafe could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body in anticipation. Then she turned to him and smirked and he thought he'd pass out right then and there. She was the sexiest woman alive, he'd swear it. He couldn't believe he got to call her his girlfriend.

"Shirt off." The command in her voice shook him to his core, too reminiscent of how she talked to him in the privacy of her bedroom. His pulse quickened in excitement. And then he processed her words and realized what she was saying.

"Lay down." Her eyes held a spark in them that always knocked his breath out of his lungs. Of course. Of course she would do this. He didn't know why he was expecting anything else. He followed her orders, like he always did. He had never been the one on the receiving end of body shots and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't turning him on.

The crowd went wild as he undressed and positioned himself on the table. She drank him in, all flushed, a sheen of sweat marking his body from the dancing. He looked delicious and she could feel arousal pool in her belly. It was messy, being like this in front of all these people. She knew, but in that moment she didn't have it in her to care. He was laying there, waiting for her and she wasn't going to deny either of them the high about to happen.

She moved into action, pouring salt on his collar bone and continuing a line down his chest, making Mac whoop out a "hell yeah!". She was solely focused on Rafe, though. He was getting more and more red as the seconds passed and he could feel the lust running through him. She was driving him insane. She put a lime wedge in his mouth and gave him a cheeky wink to which he silently groaned. A fucking tease.

With one last look into his wild eyes, she downed a shot of tequila and finally bent down to make contact with his skin. She licked a long strip from his belly button, over his chest, to his collar bones where she cleaned all the salt off his sticky skin. He shivered as her mouth moved to his neck, giving a cheeky bite to his sweet spot. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in response. She was evil for that.

Finally her eyes met his again as she leaned in to take the lime wedge from him, biting into it, letting the sour juice soak her tongue and complete her shot. The crowd cheered loudly and she quickly discarded the lime wedge to the side as she pulled him in and kissed him, deep and hot and messy.

Both of them were completely lost in the moment, the tension coming to a head as their tongues met and he tasted the liquior and lime on her. He moaned into the kiss, not caring about if anyone heard, solely focused on her. The kiss didn't last long but it awakened something in both of them. She managed to force herself back, to not give these strangers any more of a show than she already had, and pulled him up by his hand.

He struggled to find his feet, feeling completely fucking dazed from that kiss and that body shot and her touch and fuck she was ruining him.

As soon as they moved away from the table, the crowd's attention was taken by the next couple and they had a chance to take a breath. He was red all over, his shirt crumpled in his hand, his other hand in hers. She looked flushed as well, probably for the same reason he was. That was insane.

She kissed him again, finally out of the spotlight. This kiss was slower, but still as deep. He could feel his pants constricting him as he realized he was fully hard for her. She didn't miss it either, as she felt his length pressing against her abdomen. He groaned at the pressure and she pulled back to look at him.

He was embarassed so he lead her away from the basement, making sure to stay hidden behind her, not wanting anyone to witness his predicament. When they made it back to the ground floor he wasted no time in grabbing her hand and rushing up the stairs, her bemused laughter accompanying the movement.

"Where are you going?" She asked, trying to keep up with the speed at which he was practically running.

"My room." He spoke as if it was obvious as he pulled her in the direction of the room they'd both spent several nights tangled up together.

"Rafe, we're not having sex right now." She didn't want to be that couple, the one hooking up in the middle of a party after doing body shots. It felt like a cliche.

"No, I just need..." he trailed off as he unlocked his room, pulling her in as he turned the light on.

"Just need a moment." He looked down at his crotch with a blush and she smiled in understanding. He needs some privacy to calm down.

"Okay, baby." She kissed his cheek in reassurance and made her way to his desk chair, making herself comfortable.

He awkwardly stood there, not sure what to do now. Just having her in his room again was not helping with his problem. The thought of having to go take care of himself in the bathroom depressed him though. So he begrudgingly sat down on his bed and looked at her, confused.

She wanted to laugh at his expression, like he had no clue what to do with himself. His very obvious erection was not helping her calm down from what happened earlier. In fact, the fire in her was getting worse as she looked at him so vulnerable in front of her. Still shirtless, his chest moving with heavy breaths. It was driving her insane.

"Can I..." he didn't finish his thought, almost cursing at even saying anything. His voice had been so quiet she almost didn't hear him.

"What?" She drew the chair closer, to hear him better, making him take in a deep breath to try and get a hold of himself.

"Nothing. Forget it." He shook his head and refused to meer her eyes. That was unacceptable.

"Rafe." Her voice left no room for argument, she wanted him to tell her the truth.

"I was just... I wanted to..." he trailed off again feeling agitated that he couldn't just be confident in expressing himself the way he wished he could. He knew it frustrated her too and it made him feel worse.

"Wanted what, baby?" She moved to sit down next to him, her proximity only causing more frustration to bubble inside him.

"I want to taste you." He finally managed to verbalize his thoughts, meeting her eyes with apprehension.

"Oh..." she wasn't expecting that.

"I'm sorry." She shook her head at his apology.

"No, don't be. It's okay." She held his face in her hands then, observing him.

"Why are you so afraid, hm?" He gulped at her question, uncomfortable at her ability to see right through him all the time.

"I don't know, I just.. I don't wanna dissappoint you." She sighed and pulled him closer, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He exhaled in relief, she wasn't judging him.

"You would never dissappoint me by telling me what you want or how you feel, Rafe. I told you this." Her eyes were so kind it threw him.

"I know, I know. I just... I don't wanna screw this up." He looked embarrassed again and she hated it.

"You could never screw anything up by being honest. The opposite, actually." He nodded, feeling calmer as her fingers played with his hair.

"I'm sorry I'm so messed up." He let out a slight chuckle and she responded with a kind smile.

"You don't ever have to apologize for being human. Not to me. Not to anyone." She was looking at him with such conviction he couldn't help but nod. He wanted to believe her so badly.

"Is this something you've been wanting for a while?" He flushed again, remembeing his words form earlier, shyly nodding.

"Why didn't you say anything? Hm?" She placed her forehead against his, offering comfort and a grounding touch which was exactly what he needed.

"Dunno. Didn't want to overstep." He was finally being honest with her.

"By expressing your desires? To your girlfriend?" She was looking at him with slight amusement, and he blushed even more. She was right, it was silly

"When you say it like that it sounds dumb." He chuckled and she smiled at the sound. She kissed him again, a sweet kiss that helped ease his embarassment.

"I know I'm supposed to talk to you. I just didn't know how to bring this up without... I don't know... offending you." She nearly laughed at that.

"Offending me?" He shrugged.

"I don't know if it's allowed to ask for that." He blushed again, the teasing note in his voice not missed by her.

"You can ask for whatever you want, baby. I might not agree with everything, but you can always ask." She was serious now, wanting him to understand she meant it.

"Alright... So can I? Taste you?" He was holding his breath now, anticipating her answer. Truth be told he had been craving it for months - to please her like that. He enjoyed giving head before but he felt like he would explode with need over doing it for her.

"Not right now." She smiled.

"But I can... some other time?" He was desperate for her to say yes, to know he has a chance to fulfill this need, to please her like she deserves.

"Maybe." She was driving him crazy now.

"Maybe?" His tone was exasperated causing her to smile.

"Yes. Maybe." She pulled back so she could maintain eye contact.

"Eating my pussy is a privilege to be earned, Rafe. Not just something you can expect." He gulped as she spoke, driving him more and more insane with each word passing her lips. He wanted to scream with how hot she was, how sexy he found her confidence and how much he hated and loved her dominant personality all at once. He felt ready to beg. It was pathetic, really.

"How do I earn it?" His question made her stifle a chuckle, the eagerness in his tone endearing.

"By being a really, really good boy." She whispered the last part, his eyes glazing over, caught in a trance. She was so evil for playing with him when he's so messed up over her already.

"I'll do anything. I'll be so good." He would have been embarassed at how pathetic he sounded but he didn't have it in him to care, his arousal overwhelming him.

"You will, huh?" He nodded so fast she had to hold back from laughing. She couldn't believe he was begging to eat her out right now. This was not what she expected out of tonight.

"Yes. I'll be soo good for you. Please..." He was so far gone now, the whine in his voice causing her panties to dampen. Damn him. Damn him for how hot he looked, begging for her.

"You're gonna be good for me?" He was nodding along, clearly too far gone at this point to form words.

"Okay. I need you to calm down so we can go back downstairs." His brows furrowed as her words registered.

"What?" He asked, trying to clear the lustful haze from his brain.

"We came to a party, remember?" He was nodding along.

"So we're going back downstairs and you're going to enjoy yourself at the party you wanted us to come to. Yeah?" He finally started realizing she wasn't going to give him what he so desperately wants. She was mean for teasing him like that. He pouted again, giving her that kicked puppy look, but she stood her ground. He sighed loudly, feeling grumpy now.

"You're cruel." He mumbled as he got up and made his way to the door.

"What was that?" She heard him the first time but wanted to see if he'd have the balls to repeat it.

"Nothing. I'm going to the bathroom." He shuffled out of the room with his head down.

She felt a little guilty for rejecting him like that but she meant what she said. She didn't get all dressed up and come to this party just to end their night so soon. She knew this had been important to him and she didn't want his lust to distract him from what he really wanted to do tonight. Which is spend time with his friends and her, not to go back to their bubble the second they got horny. No. Tonight was a test for both of them, to practice some freaking self control. She had to be the strong one, cause he clearly couldn't be. Not when it came to this. But he made it really, really difficult to keep her head straight. Trouble personified.

Once he returned from the bathroom he seemed more calm, more in control of himself. He had splashed his face with water and spent an annoying amount of time sitting on the closed toilet seat, forcing himself to stop thinking dirty things and relax. It wasn't easy, with everything that happened in the basement and then his room. The teasing, the tension, it was all too much. But he understood why she rejected his advances, no matter how embarrassed he might be about it. He was the one who dragged them out to this party, making a big deal out of the night - so he had no right to be mad at her for trying to do what he had asked - experience the party with him.

So he shook his naughty thoughts off and managed to calm himself down enough to where his arousal was no longer noticable. It was the best he could do without jerking off and he really didn't want to do that.

She got up as he enterd the room, approaching him and pulling him into a hug immediately. He realized she felt bad for what happened but he wasn't upset anymore.

"It's okay. You're right. We should go back downstairs." She pulled back to look at him, to see if he was being honest with her. He smiled at her worry.

"I promise." He gave her a cheeky smirk and she accepted his answer, pressing a quick peck to his cheek and pulling him out of the room, back to the party.

He felt so lucky, holding her hand, seeing her interact with his friends, the smile on her face encouraging him to snap out of his thoughts and back to reality. He decided downing a few more shots would help him relax further, making it easier to forget how worked up he had been not 10 minutes ago.

As the night went on they hung out with his friends, drank, laughed and danced together. It was perfect. Exactly what he wished it would be like. He wanted her to like his friends and be comfortable around them and she seemed to be doing great.

They were in the kitchen again, her sitting on one of the bar chairs, chatting with one of the girls in the group. Completely smitten and unable to tear his eyes away, he just looked at her, his girlfriend - the realization making his heart feel so damn full he couldn't believe it. She was his girlfriend. How on earth did he get so fucking lucky?

She could feel his eyes boring into her for a while now, so she looked back at him finding him with a lovesick smile on his face, drunk and adorable, unashamed in his staring.

She decided to keep her drinking to a minimum, being the responsible one as always. It was in her nature. He was clearly already quite drunk but she didn't mind. She hadn't seen him drink that much during the time they've been together so she didn't feel a need to worry about it being a regular occurence. He just seemed really happy tonight and she didn't mind taking care of him once the time came. Which is something she never expected from herself at all- wanting to take care of a guy, not in terms of aftercare post sex, but in general. It made her question her sanity.

Once he realized she was looking at him the smile on his face only got bigger and he felt the intense urge to go to her, so he did. She smiled as he slightly stumbled into her, wrapping her arms protectively around him to steady him.

"Having fun?" She cheekily asked and he gave her the biggest boyish smile in return.

"Mhm, so much fun." He cuddled into her, taking her slightly by surprise. He was acting like they were the only people in the room, even though the kitchen was full of his friends. She could feel eyes on them as she played with his hair, the touch grounding, coaxing him back into reality.

"You okay, baby?" He simply nodded and nuzzled his face into her neck.

"Just happy." Her heart skipped a beat. She felt such intense affection for him in that moment it was unreal.

He wrapped his arms around her, making himself at home in between her legs, cocooning himself in her embrace. He was behaving the same way he did when they were alone, always desperate for her touch, to feel connected to her. It seemed even more intense now when they had a crowd of people looking at them.

"Feeling clingy?" She jokingly asked as the eyes of those around them burned into her skin. She didn't mind it but she was worried he might be embarrassed when he realized how he was acting in front of everyone.

"Just want you to hold me." He kissed her cheek and she could feel a slight blush forming where his lips met her skin.

She held him close, letting him soak in her touch, just as she did when they were in her apartment. She played with his hair and gave his back scratches in the same well practiced dance her fingers performed every day. She decided to break the moment by starting up a conversation with the same girl again as he cuddled into her in silence.

They stayed like that for a while and slowly but surely everyone got used to the odd sight of Rafe Cameron being clingy and soft as fuck, realizing this was normal behavior to the pair as she took it in stride.

After a while Rafe started getting antsy, she could feel him wiggling around and cocked a brow.

"What's up, angel?" Their eyes met and he pouted.

"Need to pee." He almost whined out causing her to chuckle.

"Then go pee?" She didn't understand his dilemma.

"Don't wanna." She realized what he meant, he didn't want to let go of her and leave her embrace even for a short bathroom trip. It made her almost laugh but she held back from it, seeing the serious expression on his face. He was drunker than she thought. She sighed, not believing what she was about to say.

"You want me to come with you?" She could see by the way he immediately brightened, she was right.

She couldn't believe she was so down bad that she'd baby a guy like this. But alas there she was, holding his hand and guiding him to the bathroom. She needed to maintain some dignity so she told him she'd wait outside for him to which he pouted but decided not to complain after seeing the resolution on her face. So she watched him stumble into the bathroom making a mental note to get him to drink water once they got back.

When he came out of the bathroom, he almost lost his footing nearly tripping until she caught him, steadying him. He was embarrassed at how drunk he'd gotten.

"We need to get you some water, baby." He noded his head, wrapping his arms around her again, quietly apologizing into her skin over and over and over while she shushed him and guided them back to the kitchen. As soon as they got there she was thrusting a water bottle at him.

"Drink the whole thing." Her tone left no room for argument so he drank the water obediently and she kept a watchful eye on him the whole time. As she did, she finally noticed something different in his costume. He had gotten redressed when he was in the bathroom upstairs, but something was missing.

"Where's your halo?" He stared at her confused, processing her words for a long moment until they finally set in. He hurried to check his head for the headband he was wearing at the beginning of the night only to find it gone. He set the now empty water bottle on the counter, turning around in search of the missing piece but it was nowhere to be seen.

"I lost it." He pouted, trying to think back to where he had it last but the task was impossible for his drunken mind. She softened at his sad expression, he looked like he might cry.

"It's okay, baby. It was only like 3 dollars." He shook his head, not feeling any better about it.

"But you got it for me." He looked so cute and pitiful, pouting like a kid over a piece of plastic.

"I can get you another one." She smiled as he brightened.

"Really?" She nodded, pulling him closer to fix the mess his hair.

"Really. It's not a big deal." But it was to him. It might have been a silly constume prop but he fully intended to keep it forever as a reminder of their night.

"Our costumes are ruined." He whined and she held back a laugh at his theatrics.

"I don't think anyone cares about our costumes anymore, Rafe." She was right, everyone was too drunk to care about any of that at this point.

"I do.... Now we don't look like a couple anymore." She sighed in exasperation.

"But we are a couple, baby." He smiled at that, hiding his face in her shoulder making her chuckle. He was adorable when he got all shy from her petnames. She knew he loved it when she called him baby the most.

"Wanted everyone to know..." he whined into her skin, apparently not done with the topic yet. She rolled her eyes at what she was about to do to appease him. She really is down bad for this guy.

She pulled out her red lipstick and her phone, reaplying the colour to her lips while he watched her like it was the most fascinating sight in the world.

"Here." She planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a print of her lips on his skin. He blushed as she showed him his face on the phone screen, feeling all giddy again.

"Happy now?" She was starting to annoy herself with her need to make him happy tonight.

"Yes. Thank you." He hugged her again, taking in the smell of her hair, feeling sated at last.

As soon as things were starting to feel somewhat peaceful again, Aaron had to make a comeback. She had no patience left in her body for anyone's bullshit and she figured it was around time to get going anyways. She looked down at Rafe, sleepily leaning on her, eyes drooping, realizing he was ready for bed.

"Time for bed, baby?" He groaned in disaproval, not wanting to end the night yet.

"Hungry." She barely managed to make out his mumbling. She hadn't seen any food around except for some chips which was not really good enough to sate a stomach as drunk as his. He needed actual food.

"How about we get you to your room and I order something? Hm?" He looked cute, thinking it over, she could practically see the wheels in his head turning with concentration.

"But we're supposed to go back to yours." The little pout was back on his lips and she realized he pouted a lot when he was drunk.

"I don't think I can carry you back to my place, baby. We can ask Mac for help up the stairs yeah?" He shook his head, the movement clearly making him temporarily dizzy and she worried he might end up falling over.

"M'not that drunk." The slur in his words contradicting his conviction. She simply rolled her eyes and located Mac who was also quite drunk but seemed still capable of helping her out.

"Mac!" The brunet immediately made his way to where the two were standing. "Help me get him upstairs?" He wasted no time nodding and grabbing his best friend under his arms to drag him to his room. Rafe protested again but after stumbling decided to keep his mouth shut and accept the help. He could still walk to an extent so Mac didn't need her help, managing to get him to his room fairly quick helping him down on his bed.

"I'm sorry." He kept apologizing, feeling bad for ruining the night. She disagreed. She'd had plenty of fun with him tonight and him being drunk was but a minor inconveniece to an overall good time. She explained this to him, kissing his cheek in reassurance.

Mac had made himself scarce quickly and she was thankful for the privacy and the quiet of the room. She ordered them both a burger and fries and played with his hair while they waited. It didn't take long for him to doze off.

Once her phone pinged, she snuck out not to wake him and made her way outside to get the food, pushing past the rest of the drunken party downstairs. When she came back his eyes were barely open, it seemed he had woken up by her absence. She smiled showing him the food and he returned it, stomach grumbling with hunger.

They finished their food quite quickly, given how hungry they were, throwing the trash in the bag to be dealt with tomorrow. She changed into his t-shirt and despite the sleepiness overcoming him, his eyes still stared at her body, unable to control himself when she was so damn beautiful. She caught him staring and chuckled at his awestruck expression. He had the same look on every time he saw her undress.

"Come on baby, lets get you changed, hm?" She helped him pull his shirt off and struggled to take off his pants but eventually managed. He had an adorable grin on his face as she made herself comfortable beside him. She reached for him and he immediately made himself at home in her arms. Sleeping with her had become one of his absolute favorite things in the world. He never sleeps better than when he's wrapped up in her arms.

"Good night." He whispered into her hair and she laid a light kiss on his temple as the exhaustion finally caught up to her.

"Good night, my angel."

.........................................

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