#i was asking the first and pretending i was asking the second

[influxovsnux]

1. His vice president, Mike Pence: “The American people deserve to know that President Trump asked me to put him over my oath to the Constitution. … Anyone who puts himself over the Constitution should never be president of the United States.”

2. His second attorney general, Bill Barr: “Someone who engaged in that kind of bullying about a process that is fundamental to our system and to our self-government shouldn’t be anywhere near the Oval Office.”

3. His first secretary of defense, James Mattis: “Donald Trump is the first president in my lifetime who does not try to unite the American people – does not even pretend to try. Instead he tries to divide us.”

4. His second secretary of defense, Mark Esper: “I think he’s unfit for office. … He puts himself before country. His actions are all about him and not about the country. And then, of course, I believe he has integrity and character issues as well.”

5. His chairman of the joint chiefs, retired Gen. Mark Milley, seemed to invoke Trump: “We don’t take an oath to a wannabe dictator. We take an oath to the Constitution and we take an oath to the idea that is America – and we’re willing to die to protect it.”

6. His first secretary of state, Rex Tillerson: “(Trump’s) understanding of global events, his understanding of global history, his understanding of US history was really limited. It’s really hard to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t even understand the concept for why we’re talking about this.”

7. His first ambassador to the United Nations, Nikki Haley: “He used to be good on foreign policy and now he has started to walk it back and get weak in the knees when it comes to Ukraine. A terrible thing happened on January 6 and he called it a beautiful day.”

8. His presidential transition vice-chairman, Chris Christie: “Someone who I would argue now is just out for himself.”

9. His second national security adviser, HR McMaster: “We saw the absence of leadership, really anti-leadership, and what that can do to our country.”

10. His third national security adviser, John Bolton: “I believe (foreign leaders) think he is a laughing fool.”

11. His second chief of staff, John Kelly: “A person that has nothing but contempt for our democratic institutions, our Constitution, and the rule of law. There is nothing more that can be said. God help us.”

12. His former acting chief of staff, Mick Mulvaney, who resigned as US special envoy to Ireland after January 6, 2021: “I quit because I think he failed at being the president when we needed him to be that.”

13. One of his many former communications directors, Anthony Scaramucci: “He is the domestic terrorist of the 21st century.”

14. Another former communications director, Stephanie Grisham: “I am terrified of him running in 2024.”

15. His secretary of education, Betsy DeVos, who resigned after January 6: “When I saw what was happening on January 6 and didn’t see the president step in and do what he could have done to turn it back or slow it down or really address the situation, it was just obvious to me that I couldn’t continue.”

16. His secretary of transportation, Elaine Chao, who resigned after January 6: “At a particular point the events were such that it was impossible for me to continue, given my personal values and my philosophy.

17. His first secretary of the Navy, Richard Spencer: “…the president has very little understanding of what it means to be in the military, to fight ethically or to be governed by a uniform set of rules and practices.”

18. His first homeland security adviser, Tom Bossert: “The President undermined American democracy baselessly for months. As a result, he’s culpable for this siege, and an utter disgrace.”

19. His former personal lawyer and fixer, Michael Cohen: “Donald’s an idiot.”

20. His White House lawyer, Ty Cobb: “Trump relentlessly puts forth claims that are not true.”

21. A former director of strategic communications, Alyssa Farah Griffin, who is now a CNN political commentator: “We can stand by the policies, but at this point we cannot stand by the man.”

22. A top aide in charge of his outreach to African Americans, Omarosa Manigault Newman: “Donald Trump, who would attack civil rights icons and professional athletes, who would go after grieving black widows, who would say there were good people on both sides, who endorsed an accused child molester; Donald Trump, and his decisions and his behavior, was harming the country. I could no longer be a part of this madness.”

23. A former deputy press secretary, Sarah Matthews, who resigned after January 6: “I thought that he did do a lot of good during his four years. I think that his actions on January 6 and the lead-up to it, the way that he’s acted in the aftermath, and his continuation of pushing this lie that the election is stolen has made him wholly unfit to hold office every again.”

24. His final chief of staff’s aide, Cassidy Hutchinson: “I think that Donald Trump is the most grave threat we will face to our democracy in our lifetime, and potentially in American history.”

We have to beat him in numbers to high to contest

[seredelgi]

Do they get jealous?/ JJK x fem!reader

Featuring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuji Itadori, Kento Nanami, Ryoumen Sukuna

tw: kissing, making out, jealousy, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, implied/referenced sex, raw sex, groping I guess

Disclaimer: all featured characters are depicted as adults

Gojo would never admit it. He loves to think of himself as the carefree type, one confident enough not to fear other men stealing you away from him. However, he is also very much aware of how hot you are, and he can’t help but count heads turning when you stroll down the street, your arm securely hooked around his. You pretend not to hear his teeth gritting and not to notice the way he possessively circles an arm around your waist to keep you closer to him. He’s not jealous, they’re just too damn greedy.

Geto’s eyes immediately darken as soon as he catches sight of another man looming over you at the club. They’re awfully bold, honestly, considering you’re usually already grinding against him as they confidently approach the scene. As soon as the poor things meet his gaze from over your shoulder they’re able to catch a glimpse of the silent threat hidden within them. But he’s not satisfied with just that. No, he carefully snakes an arm around your waist, his palm shamelessly spreading across your belly to make them unequivocally aware of who you belong to. And if they still dare touch you, then they deserve what’s coming to them.

Toji acts cold. He freezes you out until he can have you as he properly wants. Whatever he’s had to endure while out with you, whether it be yearning looks from other men eating you up with their eyes or you exchanging words with way too lustful strangers in lousy bars, he patiently waits for you two to be alone to vent it out. As soon as you’re past the threshold of your apartment he slams you against the wall and claims your lips in a heated kiss. He takes you raw that night because he can, making you moan his name so loud that you’re sure the whole building can hear. That’s what you get, after all, for putting him in such misery all night.

Megumi’s not the type to get jealous. He knows how beautiful you are, and he loves the way boys look at you whenever they notice, too. He’s not scared of such attention, as long as you’re not bothered by it. His only response to the occurrence is to provide the comfort of his presence whenever it makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable. It always does the trick to pull you flush against his chest and start peppering sweet, passionate kisses down your neck, driving looks away and shifting your attention back to where it ultimately belongs: to him.

Yuuji’s not possessive in the slightest. He knows that you easily draw the attention of other men, and he’s okay with it. However, from time to time he does get a bit insecure about it. He wonders if you could find someone to satisfy you better than he can, if you would leave him were that to ever happen. That’s when he comes looking for cuddles and pitifully pouts at you as he asks “ You love me, right?”. You can’t help but chuckle at the display, affectionately bumping your nose on his before answering him “ Only you, always”. It’s enough to dissipate any lingering doubt, enough to make him playfully nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and inhale in your scent.

Nanami’s fully confident in your loyalty, that’s never been a matter of concern to him. However, as soon as anyone tries to do anything even remotely disrespectful in your regards he feels compelled to step in, first and foremost politely asking them to back off. Unfortunately, sometimes that doesn’t work, and considering the size of the man, you’re dumbfounded by how often he’s got to resort to the second option. Let’s just say none of the boys that have made him go with it have left his sight unscathed.

Sukuna’s not so much jealous as he is proud to showcase you around. You're always the prettiest girl at any part he takes you to, and it shows in the way jaws immediately drop to the floor as soon as you walk by. He’s happy to circle his arm around your shoulder and dive into deep make-out sessions in front of anyone who dares look at you as if you were up for the taking. You’re his alone, and if the hickies covering your neck are not enough to make them stay away, then he’ll make sure to give them a little show by shoving his tongue in your mouth instead.

So what about the way they kiss you?

What about AOT men?

[mrsriddlenott]

okay I just need pussydrunk mattheo 🥵

It is honestly embarrassing how long this has been in my drafts unfinished(literally a few days over a year🤦‍♀️) I have been awol for so long but I have been GOIN through it y’all. I think I can finally at least try and actually come back to this blog. I love writing so much and I hate when it just isn’t fun anymore. And when I saw this I actually got excited to finish it so let’s see how it goes. Please correct mistakes and give feedback

Warnings: suggestive content but not actually full smut, public oral(f!receiving), heavy petting, play argument/kinda roleplay, some teasing.

{masterlist}

~Needy~

To plenty of people having a needy boyfriend would be the end of the world. But when that boyfriend is Mattheo Riddle, who seems to have an unnaturally high labido and stamina, it’s more of a pro rather than a con.

But what comes with needy is clingy. Mattheo just needs his hands on you whenever he can. You weren’t complaining but he certainly was. There was just too much time out of the day that he couldn’t touch you. So me made sure to cut thay time down as much as he could.

“Come oooon Baby” Mattheo groaned as he tugged you towards an empty, shadow filled corridor, “Just think about it, how many days a week do we have Potions, and how many weeks are in a term, how many terms in a school year….we can miss one hour of Potions Baby it’ll be fine. Plus you’re the smartest, prettiest, hottest person at this school you’ve got options for you future.”

“Um first of all,” You start, crossing your arms across your chest, poking your hip out to make Mattheo groan out loud as he restrains himself from touching you, “This will be the fourth time we missed Potions so far this term, and second of all who said I was worried for my future, nuh uh Baby I’m worried about yours.”

“Merlin you’re sexy when you’re being all bossy”Mattheo sighs, stepping closer to you and fanning your face with his breath, “I don’t care about my future as long as you’re in it, I need to keep you excited don’t I Princess?” He laughs out as he watches your resolve melt away, moving his hand up to grip your waste.

“That’s no fair.” You pout, desperately trying to hold a straight face as you continue, “You know you’re not allowed to call me Princess in an argument, you always win with that.” Mattheo sighs dramatically and steps even closer to you, breathing your air as he holds your hip tightly, tugging you into him aggressively.

“I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me,” He begs dramatically, smiling before dipping his head into the crook beside your shoulder to trace small pecks across your collarbone, forcing a moan to slip past your lips despite your pretend protests.

“How could I ever forgive you for such a lapse Mattheo,” you smile at how fast he halts his mouths assault of your collarbone giving you time to slip your fingers into his raven curls, giving them a tug to force his eyes up to yours, “You know, I can think of something you can do to earn my forgiveness.”

“What?” He rasps out, his breath caught in his chest at the feeling of your hand in his hair and the other slowly slipping down his chest at an agonizing pace, “What can I do to make you feel better Baby, I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” His voice his breathy and desperate, sending heat down your abdomen as your thighs squeeze together subconsciously. At the gentle shove to his shoulder, Mattheo knew exactly what you wanted, smirking as you looked down to him where he leant into you with those pretend innocent eyes. Mattheo fell to his knees immediately, his hands tracing their way under your skirt while his eyes stay on yours.

“Is this what you’re asking for…Princess?” Mattheo asks, smirking as he gains dominance from below you, “You want me to make you feel good?….But Baby what about Potions, we-we can’t miss class i-it’s impo-“ You cut off his teasing with a tug to his hair and small sigh at the feeling of his hand ghosting across your underwear. Mattheo groans, his eyes falling into the back of his head as your fingers tighten in his hair.

“Okay okay, I’ve got you Princess.” He laughs breathlessly as his fingers tug your underwear down your legs, allowing you to step out of them before he shoves them in his pocket with a wink. In a flash Mattheo has his lips on you, his head vanishing under your skirt, his hand trailing upward to squeeze at your chest through your button up, the other gripping your thigh to give you support as you begin to wobble.

“Oh fuck Mattheo,” You moan loudly before clamping your hand over your mouth, almost forgetting your very public location at the feeling of Mattheo’s tongue meticulously swirling around your clit. His chuckle from below almost pisses you off enough to fight for dominance but as though to wipe your mind of it, Mattheo flattens his tongue and leaves a strip up your heat, making you whimper into your hand and bite your skin to prevent getting caught.

You shake as Mattheo’s fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh while it wobbles, unsteady as you begin to lose balance at the fast pace of Mattheo’s tongue, “Fuck Baby, can you stand or do I need to hold you?” He chuckles against you at your whine of protest, not wanting him to stop even for a second. Mattheo quickly tugs your thigh over his shoulder, allowing him to gain more access, speeding up his actions, moaning at your taste and the thought of you coming on his face as you depend on him to hold you steady. Your head falls back against the stone wall, your eyes rolling backward as your hand falls to his shoulders for balance not caring anymore about your volume. Your little whimpers and squeaks drive him insane below you, he knows your close, he can feel it.

Without warning Mattheo shifts lower, shoving his tongue into you, lowering his hand from your chest in a flash and using his thumb to stimulate your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you, matching his own pace and groaning as he feels your legs begin to shake for him. Your moans become screams as you release on his tongue, falling into his hold while he rises to look at your post-orgasm face he loves so much.

“Good thing we did this during class, someone might have heard otherwise.” Mattheo says simply with a laugh as you weakly smack at his broad shoulder.

~~~~

Pretty short compared to others I have but I just really wanted to start posting again. I’m probably gonna be cleaning out my drafts and trying to get them out even old ones ppl probably aren’t waiting on anymore to try and get back into a groove on here.

[hoshifighting]

Yo!!! It's my birthday! Can I get svt members' reactions to yn asking them to suck her tits?

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!! wish u the best! health, love, peace, success, moeney and lots of achievements ❤️🥳

seungcheol: raises his eyebrows at you with a smirk, looking cocky even though his cheeks are deep red. he leans back, flexes his chest a little, and gives you that look. arches his chest toward you grabbing your hair firmly and making you suck it it, he would throw his head back, moaning on the first lick.

jeonghan: just casually gives a little nod toward his own chest, like “here you go.” practically encouraging you with those lazy eyes, already half expecting you to go for it and enjoying the thrill of making you flustered instead.

joshua: he looks at you with wide eyes, blush creeping up, but instead of shying away, he rolls his shirt up himself and covers his face, chuckling low under his breath. he’s clearly into it but wants to hide his own reaction, letting you have your way while he peeks out from under his shirt.

junhui: bro’s more than down. he slides his shirt off in record time, pulling you closer and murmuring something cheeky like, “well? show me what you got.” he’s loving that you asked, and making sure you know he wants it right NOW.

hoshi: he’d giggle a little but then go wide-eyed, then go shy, scooting closer to you and sticking his chest out, practically pushing himself into you with zero shame. soonyoung’s fully committed to giving you exactly what you want.

wonwoo: deadpan but secretly horny. he’ll look at you over his glasses, raise an eyebrow, and just give a subtle nod, totally letting you lead but with a little smirk. “yeah, go on” enjoying it all internally while his cock will probably be begging for attention inseconds.

woozi: face absolutely burning red. he’s like, “you serious?” looking at you with wide eyes, probably covering his face with one hand and laughing awkwardly. but after a little convincing, he finally lets you, all shy but clearly enjoying every second even though he’d never admit it. would be a whining mess, and would tell you something like; “dont you dare to tell this to the boys, got it?”

minghao: he’s a MENACE from the moment you asked. just pulls his shirt up in one swift move and says, “right here?” important point: yall are in the car in the middle of the car traffic, teasing just waiting to see if you’re gonna back down. would moan SMILING when you wrap the lips around the bud, only waking up when he hears an stressed honk behind him.

mingyu: instantly flustered but he’s in. he gets shy, blushing, and he laughs a little before rolling his shirt up, covering his mouth with mihs hand trying to not moan too loud—pretending that he didn't loved it thiiiiis much. but he's squirming a little but loving every second.

seokmin: a whole shy mess but eventually gives in. he’s stammering, all red-faced, covering his chest with his hands like he’s a little embarrassed, but eventually he’s like, “okay, okay, do it.” he’s biting his lip, practically melting as you get closer.

seungkwan: he’s so surprised, like who offers that in the middle of the dinner?? his mouth dropping open, but then he just bursts out laughing. “oh, you’re serious?”

vernon: zero reaction on his face, he’d blink at you, maybe raise an eyebrow like it’s no big deal, then give a tiny nod, letting you go for it. “alright,” he says. you can feel his heartbeat racing under your lips, betraying how much he’s into it.

chan: cock raises inside his pants instantly. lets you go to town, maybe even wrapping his arms around you to keep you close. “can’t believe you asked me for this.” he arches towards you.

[flock-of-cassowaries]

My best friend is 6’4. He’s recently dropped a bit of weight, but when we met, his build was best described as “husky”. Even now, he is quite literally big-boned.

He also has long hair and a truly gigantic beard.

Before covid, he and I used to go to concerts a lot; and let me tell you, having him there was just as good as having a werewolf stand menacingly beside me.

Went from consistently having weird randos try to chat me up, to total peace.

The best time, though, was probably when we were at an outdoor show, one of my high school ex’s bopped up to me to ask if I remembered him.

I was like… “Yeah? We dated for a year and a half?”

…and in my head I was like: You were notably, baroquely fucking awful to me after we broke up; how could I possibly not remember you, you disingenuous piece of shit?

And Bestie didn’t know me in high school, so he didn’t know in that moment precisely who this guy was; but he did detect the implicit ‘…you fucking asshole’ in my tone.

So he turned and glowered at this guy. No words, no gestures, didn’t step forward - just turned and glared at him.

And it was magical. Because my ex just glanced up, blurted out “Okay!”, and then turned on his heel and fucking RAN.

GLORIOUS moment, 10/10.

…especially since that was only the second time I ever saw that dude run. 

(The first time - a decade prior - he had been fleeing a pissed-off swan; the swan was pissed off because my ex had been harassing it.

I distinctly remember being extremely surprised by his speed, and also pretending not to know him in that moment, because goddamn, dude. Team Swan.)

anyway werewolf service dog task brainrot is back

werewolf who you've never met but as she passes you she sniffs you and then grabs you and goes "hey your heart rate is really high" and holds you up as you start to get lightheaded

werewolf who sits in your lap to give you deep pressure therapy

werewolf who just stands there with you menacingly to give you space from people

werewolf who learns your allergies and starts telling you when your food has something you're allergic to

werewolf who pushes your wheelchair and carries you up stairs

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Pets

Billy loves animals. He can’t help it. Even as Marvel, he’ll go up to dog owners and ask to pet their dogs. There are more than a couple videos of him dwarfing these little puppies and petting them.

Marvel: *turned into Shazham and chilling on the floor with Wonder-pig*

Wonder-pig: *yapping in pet language*

Marvel: *responding back in pet language*

Flash: *watching them* “Huh… When did Cap get a pig?”

GL: “I don’t know. I didn’t even know the guy owned pets- is it standing up?”

Flash and GL: *watches in slight horrification and fascination as what they though was a normal pig, stands on two legs like a human being and picks Wonder-pig up so they can go to the kitchen to eat*

By the way, Wonder-pig also refers to Billy as her brother because she thinks he’s Shazham. So, not only is he a pig, but he has Greek powers and her owner has Greek powers so they’re related which makes her and him related. If that makes sense.

Later…

Flash: “Dude, what is wrong with your pig?”

Marvel: “My pig? What’re you talking about?”

Flash: “Your pig! It looked like a pig version of you. Is it not yours…?”

Marvel: “Oooooh you mean Shazham.” *looks for a second to make sure he doesn’t get struck by lightning because it sounds like Shazam*

Flash: *also looks up, confused as to what he’s looking at* “Yeah? I think.”

Marvel: “So what’s wrong with my pig?” *looks back at him*

Flash: “Me and John saw it stand up with full human autonomy. Do you know how horrifying that is?”

Marvel: “Really? My bad. Well, he means no harm.” *pats Flash on the shoulder* “It’s best not to dwell on it.”

Flash: “I really think we should-”

Marvel: *continuing to pat Flash’s shoulder* “I’m really glad we can move on from this.”

Flash: “Yeah, I don’t want to move on from this-”

Marvel: “It wa nice talking to you!”

or

Robin!Damian: “Translate Bat-hound.” *points to the dog*

Marvel: “Sorry, what?”

Robin!Damian: “You can speak all languages, yes? That includes animals, I assume?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Robin!Damian: “So translate Bat-hound.”

Marvel: “Well, what am I translating exactly?”

Robin!Damian: “Start up a conversation.”

Marvel: *stares at the dog*

Bat-hound: *in pet language* “You smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around.” (This just sounds like barks to Damian.)

Robin!Damian: “What did he say?”

Marvel: “He said I smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around. I think he’s talking about Shazham.” *looks up to the ceiling for a moment just in case he gets shazamed*

Robin!Damian: “Does that mean you have a pig?”

Marvel: “Uh… yeah.” *doesn’t know how to feel about calling himself a pet*

Robin!Damian: “Tt. Neither Batman nor Agent A will let me have a pig.”

Marvel: “Do you want to meet my pig?”

Robin!Damian: “…yes.”

Marvel: “I’ll bring him over one day then! You’ll be the first who knows and gets to talk to him.”

If pretending to be a pig would make a kid happy, Billy would do it. In the end, Damian seemed happy when he came as Shazham.

Robin!Damian: “You can understand me?”

Marvel: *in Shazham form, nods head*

Robin!Damian: *little kid wonder* “Amazing. I’ll have to ask your owner to bring you around more. The Captain mentioned how Bat-hound said you hung around Wonder-pig. I wonder if you and him can both become friends.”

or

Flash: “What’s he doing?”

Marvel: *sitting on the ground and being barked at, oinked at, turtled at, fish bubbled at, and so on*

Robin!Damian: *appears out of nowhere* “He’s communicating with them.”

Flash: *gets the shit scared out of him, lets out a little yell, and ends up clenching his heart* “Why hasn’t Batman kept you on a leash? You can’t keep doing that to people. You’re going to give someone a heart attack one day!”

Robin!Damian: *mini bat-glares him for the leash comment and starts pulling out one of his swords*

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (06)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 5.3k

Aliyah's Notes: after the calamity of ch5 i present u ch6.... enjoy it. or not. AND IM SORRY FOR THE ENDING 🔥😩😅😨

It's been days. Or weeks? You didn’t even know anymore. The calendar on my phone kept reminding me, but you stopped counting. Maybe if you ignored the world long enough, it’ll forget you existed. Maybe if you stayed in this apartment, you could disappear into these four walls like you were never here in the first place.

Numbers. You used to count them, obsess over them, keep track of every passing hour. But now, time feels... irrelevant. What’s the point of knowing how long you’ve been sinking when no one’s coming to pull you out?

The silence feels... safe. No one to judge you. No one to see the mess you’ve become. It’s funny, though—people always see what they want to see. The headlines called you a goddess, an untouchable force of beauty and success. But what would they say if they knew the truth? That the girl in their glossy magazines could barely stand to look at herself anymore.

You hated this. The lying, the pretending. Nina thought you were just going through a rough patch, but she didn’t know how deep the cracks went. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be this anymore—broken, fragile, teetering on the edge again. You swore you’d never come back to this place. But it’s funny how easy it is to fall back into old habits, how fast the darkness creeps in when no one’s watching.

No one’s watching.

Maybe that’s for the best. Let them keep seeing the version of you they wanted to see—the confident supermodel, the girl who had it all. Let them believe the lie, because the truth? The truth was ugly. The truth was you’ve been staring at your phone for days, hoping—no, needing—for a message, for something from him.

But nothing.

He was in Missouri. Working, you guessed. You didn’t even know when he was coming back. He didn’t say. 

You hated him for that. But you hated yourself more for caring. For letting him in, even when you knew better. For thinking, for just one second, that maybe—just maybe—there was something real between you, beneath all the lies you told the world.

But none of it was real. Not the dating, not the smiles, not the person they thought you were. You were a fraud. A perfect, golden fraud wrapped up in designer clothes and empty promises. And the worst part was, you were too tired to fight it anymore. Maybe this was who you were now. A girl who hid in her apartment, waiting for the world to forget she existed.

Or maybe it already happened.

The sound of the door creaking open started you, pulling you out of the spiral you’ve been sinking into. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. No one else had the key to your apartment beside her.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” Nina’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife. “This is the third time this week. How long do you think you can keep doing this?”

You didn’t respond.

Nina stromed in, slamming the door behind her, and you heard her heels clacking on the floor as she made her way to the living room. “You’re not answering your phone. You’re not responding to emails. You missed three shoots! People are asking questions, Y/N. What do you think I’m supposed to tell them?”

You stayed silent, curling deeper into the couch. Maybe if you didn’t look at her, she’ll go away. Maybe she’ll finally get the hint that you didn’t want to be saved.

But Nina wasn’t the type to back off. “No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to ignore me, not today. You need to get up. You need to fix this, Y/N. You think you can just hide away forever? Is that the plan? Because let me tell you, honey, the world won’t wait for you to get your shit together.”

She stood in front of you now, hands on her hips, glaring down at you like a disappointed mother. Her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw that she’s been worrying. 

“Talk to me, honey,” she said, her voice lower now. “This isn’t you. You don’t just disappear like this. What happened? Is it Rafe? Is it work? Are you back to…” her voice trailed off, but the question hanged in the air, heavy and unspoken. 

You couldn’t look at her. The shame curled in your chest, making in hard to breathe. She didn’t know. She didn’t know how badly you’ve relapsed, how badly everything felt like it was slipping out of control again. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“When’s the last time you even showered? Eaten something decent? Your career’s on the line. Everything we’ve worked for is on the line. You can’t just… give up like this.”

Her words hit like slaps, each one stinging, but you still didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Nina huffed, pacing now, her frustration spilling over. “I don’t know what happened between you and Rafe, and honestly, I don’t care. But whatever it is, you don’t get to throw your life away because of it. You’re stronger than this, Y/N. I know you are. So why the hell are you letting this break you?”

You flinched at the word “break.” Because that’s what it feels like. Like you’re already broken, shattered into a million pieces, and you didn’t even know how to start putting yourself back together.

Nina crouched down in front of you, her voice softening, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me, honey. Please. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

For a moment, you almost did. You almost told her everything—the text, the relapse, the endless void you’ve been sinking into. But the words caught in your throat, choking you. What’s the point in talking when nothing will change?

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not fine. You’re far from it. You think I haven’t seen you like this before? You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N.”

She stood, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. “You need to snap out of it. Because in five days, you’re getting engaged to Rafe Cameron, whether you like it or not. And a week after that, you’re walking down the aisle. You can’t afford to fall apart now.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a lead blanket. The engagement. The wedding. The lies. It all felt so suffocating, so inevitable.

Nina crossed her arms, her voice firm. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up, you’re going to shower, and you’re going to pull yourself together. Because tomorrow, you’ve got a charity event with Rafe, and you’re going to smile for the cameras and make everyone believe that you’re still that perfect, golden girl they love.”

You wanted to scream at her, tell her you couldn't do it, that you didn't even know how to pretend anymore. But instead, you nodded numbly, sinking deeper into the fog that had settled over your mind.

Nina sighed, her voice softening again as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. And I swear, Y/N, if you're still in this state when I get here, I will personally drag you to that charity event."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone with the weight of everything she'd just said.

You hadn’t slept. Not really. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you were supposed to pretend like everything was fine when every part of you was falling apart. You could still hear Nina’s voice in your head, telling you to pull yourself together, to be the golden girl everyone expected you to be. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, your body heavy. Your legs felt weak, and your mind feltl worse. Everything was numb, but somehow you still felt the pain. You stumbled into the bathroom, turning the water on without thinking. The cold spray hit your skin like tiny needes, and you stood there for a while, trying to let the string wake you up. But it didn’t work—you were still in that fog.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, you didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. It didn’t matter. You grabbed the first thing you saw—a plain black sweater, loose and oversized, and a pair of jeans that didn’t quite fit right anymore. You didn’t even try with your hair, just pulled it back into a bun. No makeup. What was the point? It wasn’t like anyone cared what you looked like today.

When you got to the office, the tension hit you the moment you walked through the door. Your stomach twisted as you made your way down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your chest tightening with every breath. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t. But as you pushed open the door to the conference room and saw him sitting there—Rafe, looking like he hadn’t been bothered by a single thing—you felt the anger bubbling up, hot and sharp.

It started as a familiar ache that had been building ever since the night he walked out of your apartment without a word. Two weeks. Fourteen days of silence. Fourteen nights spent waiting for a text that never came, hoping for even the smallest explanation, something to make sense of the hollow space he’d left behind.

Day 1. Monday, 2:42 AM

You: “Hey. Are you home? LMK, just to be safe.”

Day 2. Tuesday, 8:18 AM

You: “I’m still so confused about what happened last night, but let’s talk when you have a minute.”

Day 3. Wednesday, 5.32 PM

You: “Look, if you’re mad at me, just say it! I thought we were good, what the hell?”

Day 4. Friday, 11:04 PM

You: “It’s been days and I still don’t understand why you left like this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 3:27 PM

You: “Fuck you. I don't know why I keep texting. I know you’re seeing my texts, even though I’m on delivered. Just tell me if you’re done with this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 10:41 PM

You: “Why am I acting like I’m the one who fucked up? I didn’t do anything wrong. You left me like I was nothing, and your only explanation was a shitty rom-com excuse. I thought we were friends, Rafe.”

Day 5: Sunday, 11:36 PM

You: “I hope you rot in your shit ass apartment, but trust that I will show up to one of your stupid games with a sign that says “Small Dick Ghoster” in big, glittery letters. And I hope Chiara will hug you so hard that she’ll end up strangling you to death. Fuck you, again!”

And there he was, sitting there like none of it had happened, like you were still just strangers playing a game. His posture relaxed, that effortless confidence radiating from him, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him, completely indifferent.

It infuriated you—the ease with which he moved on, the way he could look so composed, so completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t abandoned you in that moment when you were raw and vulnerable. Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing.

Every part of you screamed to confront him, to demand an explanation for the silence, the absence, the complete disregard. You could feel the hurt clawing up from your chest, tangling with the anger that burned hotter with each passing second. He was so close, but somehow, he felt miles away.

So instead, you steeled yourself, locking down the hurt, burying it beneath the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. You wouldn’t let him see the effect he had on you, wouldn’t give him the power to know just how much his absence had shattered you. No—he would get nothing from you. Not a word, not a glance, not a single sign of the turmoil raging inside you.

You walked past him without a word, each step heavy with the weight of the anger you swallowed down. Let him sit there, pretending like nothing was wrong. Let him think he could ignore you, dismiss you, erase you from his life without consequence. Because you would make sure he felt every bit of the coldness he had left you with, every ounce of the hurt he’d carved into you.

Ignoring him was the only power you had left, the only way to keep the anger from spilling over, from breaking you down entirely. And if he thought he could continue on as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened, then he was going to learn just how wrong he was.

Nicolas cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. “Hi, you two—we’ve got a lot to go over, and the timeline is tight. The engagement is in five days, and the wedding is scheduled for a week after that. So we need to finalize the details today—food, decorations, dresses, the guest list…”

You couldn’t focus. The words blurred together a dull hum in the background as you stared down at the table. Rafe said something, his voice casual, but you tuned it out. You didn’t want to hear him.

Sabrina spoke next, her tone brighter, more enthusiastic. “The audience is really enjoying you together, by the way. Ever since your date, and especially after the pictures from Kelce’s party where you two were cuddled up? People are in love with the idea of you and Rafe together. So, good job, guys.”

Your stomach churned at her words. Cuddled up. Like you were some happy couple.

“And tomorrow,” she continued. “You’ll need to make another public appearance together. It’s a charity event for cancer awareness. A perfect opportunity for more good press. The public is expecting you two to show up as the perfect couple—affectionate, in love, all of that.”

In love.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. This was the part where you were supposed to smile and nod, agree to hold his hand and play the role of the devoted future fiancée. But all you felt was the tension building, the weight of the lie pressing down on you until it was suffocating.

Rafe shifted in his seat, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you still didn’t look at him. Rafe felt an uneasy twist in his stomach. You looked… different. Disheveled, almost. Your sweater hung losely over your shoulders, practically swallowing your frame, and he could see dark shadows under your eyes that hadn’t been there before. You seemed smaller somehow, your usual energy muted, replaced by something tense and fragile.

Rafe’s gaze dropped to your hands, noticing how your fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting and tugging at your sleeves. Your leg was bouncing under the table, tapping out an anxious rhythm that only he seemed to notice. Every small movement, every nervous habit—you looked like you were holding yourself back, like there was something simmering beneath the surface, ready to break free.

You still hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t given him a single glance, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You’d been messaging him, and he’d been… well, avoiding it, convincing himself it was for the best. But seeing you now, seeing the wear and tear he’d left behind, he couldn’t shake the guilt.

Rafe’s chest tightened. He’d expected you to be angry, maybe annoyed. But this? You looked worn down, frayed at the edges, like you've been carrying a weight no one else could see.

You didn’t remember most of the details they were talking about. Your mind drifted in and out of focus as they went on about the guest list, the food, the decorations. All you heard were words—dresses, flowers, venues. None of it felt real. It was as if you were watching someone else’s life unfold in front of you, just sitting there, an outsider in your own story.

“The wedding will be televised, of course,” Sabrina says, flipping through her notes, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of it all. “And with a full press presence. We want every detail to reflect both of your public personas. Elegant, grand, but also with an intimate, personal feel—something that tells a story about who you both are.”

Who we were. I almost laughed at the irony. I didn't even know who I was right now, much less who we were.

“We were thinking of something grand but elegant. A modern luxury wedding. White roses, lots of gold accents. Maybe something at the estate in the Hamptons?”

You glanced at the board, at all the glossy, pristine images of weddings that could belong to anyone. None of them felt like you.

“Do you have any preferences?” Sabrina asked, smiling like this is the most exciting conversation in the world. “Colors, themes, anything that’s important to you?”

"Actually," you finally broke your silence, your voice coming out quietly, but the words landing heavily in the room. "I’d like the ceremony to reflect... my background." You could feel Rafe's eyes on you again, but for once, you didn’t care. This wasn’t about him.

Sabrina blinked, taken aback, but she quickly nodded, jotting down notes as if she were open to whatever you had in mind. "Of course, that could be beautiful. Were you thinking about specific details?"

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain if they’d take you seriously, but you pressed on. "Yes. The colors… the decorations. I want there to be vibrant colors—not just whites and pastels, but deep greens, maroons, and gold. The way we’d have them back home. And for the flowers… jasmine and roses. That’s what we use for weddings where I’m from. I want it to feel like... like part of my heritage."

Nicolas raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t expected you to care about any of this. But he just nodded, his pen moving across his notepad. "We can definitely arrange that. A traditional, multicultural theme would add a unique touch to the event, I think. It’ll definitely resonate with the press and the viewers."

You didn’t care if it resonated. It wasn’t for them—it was for you, a sliver of authenticity in this whole farce.

Then Sabrina’s voice broke into your thoughts. "And of course, the dress. Have you given any thought to what you want? Or would you like us to arrange for a stylist to go over options with you?"

Your heart twisted at the mention of the dress. The one thing you’d always imagined as a girl—the dress you’d wear at your own wedding. Only, you’d never thought it would be for this.

"I’d like to include some of my culture there too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... a fusion. Something elegant and modern but with hints of traditional South Asian bridal elements. Like embroidery or... beadwork. Maybe even henna if it wouldn’t look out of place."

Sabrina seemed to light up at the idea. "That would be stunning. We can definitely work with that! I know several designers who specialize in fusing traditional and contemporary styles."

She was still talking, but the air around you felt thicker, as though the room was closing in. You could sense Rafe’s gaze without even looking at him, the weight of his silence pressing into you.

You zoned out again, your mind wandering back to the last wedding you attended. The colors, the music, the way the bride’s lehenga shimmered under the sun as she walked down the aisle. You’d always thought your wedding would be like that—full of life and celebration, surrounded by people who loved you.

Instead, you were planning a wedding for the cameras, for people who didn’t know you.

The sudden, sharp knock on the door cut through the stillness like a jolt of cold water. Your head shot up from the pillow, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, the world felt like it was still. The quiet of your apartment, the thick fog still clouding your thoughts. You didn’t want to get up. You didn’t want to face the world outside of this bed, this cocoon of emptiness you’d wrapped yourself in for days.

Another knock, this one louder, more demanding.

“Y/N!” Nina’s voice came through the door, sharp and impatient. “You better not still be in bed, because I swear—”

The door swung open before you could even make a sound, Nina storming in, wearing the same determined, unbothered expression she always had when she was on a mission. You tried to bury your face back into the pillow, but she wasn’t having it. Her hand reached down, grabbing the covers and yanking them off with force. You shivered as the cold air hit your skin, the warmth of the blankets yanked away along with any shred of comfort you’d been clinging to.

“Get up.” Nina wasn’t asking. She was commanding. “You’ve got a charity event today, and Rafe is already at the venue. We don’t have time for your pity party.”

You squinted at her, still half-wrapped in your sheets like a burrito, and mumbled from underneath the pillow, “Can’t you just… I don’t know… handle it for me? Go in my place. You’d look great in a gown.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’d look amazing, but you and I both know I don’t have that kind of charisma.”

“True,” you admitted, peeking out from under the pillow. 

Nina raised her hands in mock surrender. “Exactly. Now, up. I’m not playing with you today.”

Before you could even protest, she yanked the covers off you with a dramatic flourish, leaving you to shiver in nothing but your oversized T-shirt. It was a miracle you didn’t roll off the bed in the process.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” Nina didn’t wait for you to even get a grip on reality before heading straight for your closet, rummaging through your clothes like she was on a mission. “You’re going to look so good today that Rafe might just start thinking you actually like him.”

You shot her a glare that could’ve frozen water, but she just smirked, tossing a black dress onto the bed like she was some fashion fairy sent to save you from yourself.

“I’m not going,” you said flatly.

“Oh, yes, you are.” Nina threw a matching pair of heels onto the bed with the same casual flick of the wrist she used to dismiss your protests. “Because you will look stunning, and you will show up.”

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face. “What is it with you people? Why does everyone keep trying to drag me out of bed? It’s like I’m the world’s most reluctant celebrity.”

“Because you are.” Nina grinned, holding up your dress like she was presenting the Holy Grail. “But, hey, guess what? You’re really good at it. So stop sulking and get your glam on. You’re the star of the show today.”

You let out a theatrical sigh. “Oh, joy.”

Nina didn’t even flinch. “I’m not asking for a performance. Just put on the damn dress and show up. You can pretend to be miserable, and I’ll pretend I’m not a miracle worker for getting you out of here.”

You hesitated for just a moment, then dragged yourself out of bed with a grunt. “Fine.”

“Oh, by the way, Aisha’s going to be there. She practically begged me to make sure you show.”

Your eyes snapped open. Aisha Patel. Your best friend and, quite honestly, the only person in your life who could drag you out of bed with a single text. She’s been your best friend since you’d arrived in the States. She’d been away for five months—longer than ever before—working on some high-profile project in Switzerland. You hadn’t seen her in ages.

“You’re kidding,” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Aisha’s coming?”

Nina smiled smugly. “Yep. She’s flown back for the event. Can you imagine the drama if you don’t show up? She’ll never let you live it down.”

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. “God, I missed her.”

“Me too,” Nina said, her voice softening for just a second. “But you still have to get up. Like now.”

You looked at the dress Nina had already picked out, a sleek white gown that somehow made you feel both glamorous and like you were about to attend a royal gala. “Fine. I’m up. I’m dressed.”

Nina, who was already rummaging through your closet like a pro, grinned. “You look absolutely beautiful, honey,” she noticed your weight loss but decided to not speak on it, in fear it’ll make you relapse… if only she knew. “Chiara’s also going to be there...”

You froze, the mention of Chiara Romano sending a cold shiver down your spine. You’d told Nina everything about the Chiara encounter—her subtle digs, the way she made you feel like you were just another passing phase in Rafe’s life. She’d made things uncomfortable enough at Kelce’s party, and now you had to face her again?

“What? Fucking why?”

“Her father’s the one running the whole damn event,” she explained. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her or her family because they’re pretty famous, especially in the entertainment and events world. So, get ready for a day full of small talk, fake smiles, and people who will pry into your private life.”

You sighed. “How perfect is that?”

You stood in front of the mirror, trying to shake off the heavy weight of everything swirling in your head. You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time.

You reached for your hair tie, pulling it through your tangled locks. Your hair had grown longer than you remembered, and you decided to tie it up in a messy, yet elegant bun—one that would allow a few soft, curly strands to escape and frame your face. It was casual but chic—classic you. You let a few strands fall loosely, giving the bun a less formal, more effortless vibe. After a moment of satisfaction, you moved on to the makeup.

A soft, dewy glow covered your skin, nothing too dramatic. You didn’t want to feel caked in layers today, just enough to enhance your features. You applied a touch of blush to your cheeks, just a hint, to keep the look fresh. A thin line of mascara lengthened your lashes, and your signature lip combo was the finishing touch. Simple. Comfortable.

As you turned to check yourself one last time, you heard Nina's voice from the other room.

“Y/N! We need to go now. Rafe's texting me and he’s getting antsy. He’s apparently already at the event!”

You sighed, feeling the familiar rush of anxiety settle into your stomach. The mirror reflected a version of you that was ready for the world, but the world, especially tonight, wasn’t ready for this version of you. But as the pressure of the event built up, you couldn’t deny the uncertainty gnawing at you.

When you made your way into the living room, Nina was pacing, her phone glued to her ear. She shot you a quick, approving glance. “Looking good. Let’s go.”

As you grabbed your clutch, ready to face whatever tonight had in store, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat. Was it Aisha? Maybe she’d arrived early, wanting to meet up before the event?

But when you opened the door, your breath caught.

Standing in the doorway wasn’t Aisha.

It was Rafe.

He was in a suit—sharp, looking like he belonged in a magazine ad for high-end fashion—but his eyes, dark and intense, held something more than just a desire to impress. He had the look of a man who knew he had messed up.

His words hit you before you could even process them. “You look stunning. I wanted to make sure you’re okay... before all this.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart thump a little faster, and you hated yourself for it.

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at him. You hadn’t expected him to show up—especially not with that kind of intensity in his eyes.

You exhaled slowly, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, your posture defensive. The audacity of this guy.

“Really?” You scoffed, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping up your spine with sharp sarcasm. “Now you care?”

Rafe seemed to falter at that, but he quickly recovered, taking a small step closer, but not enough to make you feel cornered. “I’ve always cared, Y/N. You know that.” His voice was quieter this time, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made your resolve crack.

“Do I?” you shot back, stepping out of the doorway and giving him a once-over, your gaze icy. “Because you sure had a funny way of showing it.”

Rafe winced, a flash of guilt flickering in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I messed up, okay? I should’ve reached out. I didn’t know what to say, but I should’ve just... shown up.”

You rolled your eyes, the anger simmering beneath your skin rising again. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, not from the sight of him, but from the frustration that had been building over the past two weeks. “You didn’t know what to say? You think showing up fixes two weeks of silence? Just like that?”

He took a step forward, his face tightening, as though he was bracing himself for a confrontation. "I wasn’t sure what to do," he said, his voice lowering. "I thought... maybe you needed space. I thought if I gave you time, it would be better." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the audacity of his words settling like a lump in your throat. “Space?” you asked, your voice low, incredulous. “You thought ghosting me for two weeks would give me space?” 

Rafe’s face twisted in guilt, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to let him off the hook.

“Did you at least see my texts?” you demanded, anger rising in your throat.

"Y/N, you’re needed at the car right now!" Nina called, stopping Rafe in his tracks of answering. Before you could walk away, Rafe reached out, his hand closing around your wrist, pulling you back gently.

"Wait," he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.

You stared up at Rafe, your breath caught in your throat, uncertainty swirling in your chest. The air between you two felt charged, a thousand unspoken questions hanging in the balance. Your pulse was racing, but before you could voice any of them, Nina practically shoved you both into the elevator. Her hand pressed the button for the ground floor as she threw your heels at you, the sharp click of the stilettos punctuating the tension.

You caught them on instinct. The elevator descended, and your mind was still spiraling, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. What the fuck—this distance between you and Rafe? 

But just as the elevator doors opened, the sound of a familiar car door slamming outside caught your attention. A quiet thud, followed by the sound of heels clicking against pavement. Your instincts were on alert, an uneasy feeling crawling under your skin.

And when you turned to look, you saw someone stepping out of the car.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to catch up.”

chapter seven

[lovelookspretty]

waking up to you

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: Y/N & RAFE DATE 😋 teasing, pretty safe chapter

authors note: btw readers only “weird” around cynthia bc ngl id act like that if i came across her bc shes so annoying on the show omg. but EEE hi guys. if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

previous

you’re not surprised to wake up in rafe’s bed again. at this point, it’s almost routine, though every time still feels surreal.

you’ve gotten used to the soft sheets, the familiar scent of him on the pillows, and the way the morning light filters through the blinds just right, casting a warm glow over his peaceful, sleeping face.

he looks so different like this—calm, almost vulnerable. it’s a version of him that no one else really gets to see. and you? you don’t mind at all.

you take a quiet breath, just watching him for a moment longer. but then, his eyes flutter open, and you freeze, quickly closing your eyes to pretend like you’re still sleeping. maybe if you play it off well enough, he won’t—

a finger pokes at your side, and you can’t help the involuntary squirm and groan that escapes you. “rafe,” you mutter, barely opening one eye to glare at him. but he just grins, clearly pleased with himself for catching you.

“thought you were asleep,” he teases, voice rough from sleep, poking your side again until you half-heartedly swat at his hand.

“you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “get off of me.”

the morning quickly slips into a blur, and before you know it, you're tagging along with rafe for a ride around the island—except not just any ride. he’s got his dirt bike out, the same one you’d seen on the show.

you were kind of surprised when you first saw it in the garage. in the world you knew, rafe got this bike after the first episode started, but here? no rules seem to apply anymore.

you’re wrapped tightly around his torso, his helmet snug on your head as he drives the bike through town, on the beaches, through quiet streets and long stretches of open road. the wind whips past your face, and you can’t help but smile into it, arms locked around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

eventually, he pulls up to some kook-itorium, the bike coming to a slow stop. rafe kicks the stand down and hops off first, turning to help you off like he always does. his hands are warm as they slide into yours, and for a second, he just holds them, staring down at you with a grin.

“so, what do you think?” he asks, pulling you a little closer as you hop off the bike. he’s been practically advertising himself on the way over here. “a date? hrm? just you n’ me. anywhere you want.”

you smile up at him. “yeah,” you say softly. “i’d like that.”

he tugs you toward the entrance of the building, still holding onto your hand. “just don’t pick somewhere like the seaview grill or— god, that lame museum your mom likes.”

when you step inside the building, it takes you a moment to realize where rafe has brought you. the place has that unmistakable country club vibe—polished, pristine, like every corner of it has been touched by money. but it’s smaller, rounder in shape, and more modern than the main country club building next door. servers move swiftly between tables, balancing trays and drinks. rafe, of course, heads straight past all of this, not even glancing at the downstairs dining area.

you follow him upstairs, past the busy floor where people are eating, drinking, and talking in their quiet, refined way. upstairs, though, it’s a whole different world.

the second floor is open and airy, with barely any walls to box anything in. it’s just the floor, held up by tall pillars that support the roof above, letting the fresh air and views of the island spill right in. the only structure that really stands out is the bar in the middle—a sleek, modern setup that takes up a good portion of the space, all glossy wood and glass shelves stocked with high-end bottles.

the place is filled with kooks, most of them middle-aged. they don’t seem to notice you and rafe, or if they do, they don’t care. oh right, rafe should be about 22 now, legal to drink here. does that make the others 18 and 19?

anyway, rafe is clearly familiar here. a few nods are thrown his way as he leads you forward, and he nods back, murmuring casual greetings under his breath as you weave between tables. you’re amused, but there’s a small part of you that’s bothered.

you thought maybe rafe had brought you here for food downstairs, but it’s pretty clear now that this is just one of his regular stops to get a drink—probably whiskey or even scotch, knowing him. but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to spoil the mood.

he finally lets go of your hand when he reaches the bar, leaning against the counter with crossed arms as he asks for his drink. you linger beside him for a second, glancing around the open space. the view from up here is stunning, with a perfect sightline to the docks and the country club’s main establishment just next door.

you rub your arm awkwardly, feeling a little out of place among all the well-dressed older folks. after a beat, you step closer to rafe, gently touching his arm to get his attention. “i’m gonna go use the restroom,” you say quietly.

he nods, not taking his eyes off the bartender. but before you can turn to leave, he grabs your arm, tugging you back toward him for a quick kiss. it’s his way of saying 'be safe,' you guess, a small gesture that makes you smile despite the surroundings. you give his arm a gentle squeeze in return, then slip away to head downstairs.

just as you’re descending the steps, though, a familiar voice drifts up toward you. and then you see him—topper, making his way up the stairs. your heart sinks in the half-second you have to process it.

great. the last time you talked to him was at the party, when he was stumbling over some half-assed apology. and now here he is, about to cross your path.

fantastic. just what you needed.

the moment his eyes land on you, there’s a flicker of recognition that lights up his face, just for a moment—like spotting an old acquaintance in a crowd.

“y/n!” he says, his hands coming up as if he’s presenting you to the world. he glances at his mom as if to say, ‘look who it is’. you can feel your heart rate pick up as you pause on the steps, furrowing your brows at them.

they were definitely just talking about you right before this.

you force a smile, but it’s small and tight, barely breaking through your unease. “hi, topper,” you mumble, glancing between him and his mom. there’s a brief moment of silence as you weigh your options—whether to continue this conversation or slip away.

ultimately, you choose the latter. you take a step forward, moving past them and continuing down the stairs, leaving them behind. as you go, you can feel topper’s eyes on you.

he glances down at his shoes and shifts awkwardly, but then, just as quickly, he looks up again. “come on, let’s just go upstairs,” he insists to his mom, trying to shake it off as they both start moving again.

it’s not that you wanted to dismiss topper and his mom or anything. really, you just don’t see the point in lingering in the middle of a public staircase, one of the only two that connected the floors of the country club. you don’t want to be rude, but you also don’t want to talk to topper—especially after your last encounter at the party.

topper and his mom step off the stairs, but the moment topper spots rafe, a grin spreads across his face.

“hey, good seein’ you back here again,” topper greets, approaching the bar with a friendly demeanor.

rafe daps him up casually. “you too, man,” rafe replies, genuinely glad to see him.

topper's mom stands just a foot away, carrying her purse and looking utterly uninterested in the interaction, her gaze flicking off to the side as if she’s assessing the other patrons. she’s never been a fan of rafe, just barely tolerating him because he comes from a good family, and it shows in the way she avoids direct eye contact.

pulling away from the handshake, toppers eyes glance back toward the staircase as if expecting you to appear at any moment. “saw you and y/n come in,” he adds, “just wanted to say hi.”

rafe nods with a smile as he leans back against the bar, one elbow resting casually on the counter. he glances at topper’s mom. “hey, cynthia,” he says, flashing her a grin.

her expression shifts from indifference to surprise, and then it hardens, almost offended by the casual familiarity. she’s always been the type to keep her distance from him, and rafe knows it. to her, he’s still just another troublemaker, another bad influence.

topper notices the slight tension and looks back to rafe, his brow furrowing slightly. “so, what’s up with y/n?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with a hint of concern.

rafe squints, his head cocking to the side as he regards topper. “what do you mean, ‘what’s up’?” he replies, his voice subtly defensive and carrying a hint of warning. “is there something wrong with her?”

topper realizes how that might sound and shakes his head quickly. “no, no, man. i just think she’s, like . . . avoiding me or something,” he clarifies, waving a hand dismissively as if trying to brush off any potential drama.

rafe chuckles, raising his glass up to his lips. “are you surprised?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at topper, the teasing tone evident. he shakes his head, a look of amusement on his face. “girls, man.”

cynthia catches the comment, her expression shifting to one of disapproval. she mutters a clipped ‘ten minutes’ to her son before leaving without a word, turning on her heel and heading toward the stairs to leaving topper there with him.

topper watches her go, feeling the weight of the awkwardness settle over him. he glances back at rafe, who is now watching the scene unfold with a smirk, clearly amused by the whole thing.

“so, what are you guys up to?” topper asks, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

when you step out of the bathroom, you spot her immediately—cynthia, standing at the bottom of the stairs like she’s waiting for her son. you briefly consider turning around, maybe pretending not to notice, but it’s too late. her sharp gaze finds yours, and there’s no escaping it now.

this is great.

you adjust your posture, trying to look casual as you make your way toward the stairs, your mind racing for an excuse to cut this conversation short. the last thing you want is to get caught up with cynthia—if she’s anything like the way she was on the show, you are not open to a conversation.

but it’s like you’re trapped. her eyes lock on you, and she takes a few steps forward in those polished black heels. “y/n,” she says, and there’s a hint of something icy behind that tone, even though she’s putting on a smile.

you stop, eyebrows raising as you stand in place, trying to gauge the situation. her smile is forced, you can tell immediately, but so is yours as you mirror her expression. “cynthia, it’s so . . . nice to see you again,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth because, well, kooks always know kooks, right? you assume this universe’s y/n has seen her before.

but as soon as the words leave your mouth, cynthia’s expression shifts—her lips purse, and her eyes narrow slightly, pulling her head back like you’ve just said something ridiculous. yep. that was wrong. completely wrong.

“last time i saw you, you were just a kid! every time you come over to my home now, it’s like you’re always sneaking around,” she remarks, her voice dripping with that fake kindness, the kind that’s so transparently bitter it almost stings.

your stomach twists. yeah, this is definitely not the conversation you wanted. “and how are your parents?” cynthia continues, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

you wave your hand, trying to shrug it off like it’s no big deal. “they’re great! in costa rica right now, on vacation,” you respond, trying to keep things light.

but cynthia hums, her expression a little too knowing. “i heard it was a business trip?” she says, tilting her head slightly.

you clear your throat, feeling the tension grow. this woman is the worst. you’re slipping up so bad. “mix of both,” you say, your voice strained as you force another fake smile.

there’s a brief, uncomfortable silence before the two of you lean forward, laughing in that awkward, forced way where neither of you are actually amused. the laugh dies quickly, and as soon as it does, you drop the pretense, turning on your heel as you head back upstairs, feeling weird about the interaction.

you feel like you were just quizzed. and you failed.

once you’re back upstairs, you immediately catch rafe’s eye as you step into the room. he’s leaning casually against one of the tables, a glint in his eye that matches the small smirk tugging at his lips the second he spots you.

his whole demeanor shifts, but topper, who’s mid-sentence, doesn’t seem to notice right away—until he realizes rafe isn’t paying attention. topper twists around to follow his line of sight, spotting you before continuing whatever rant he was on.

rafe briefly glances back at him, half-listening, as you approach the two of them. when you get close enough, you quietly reach for rafe’s glass, bringing it to your nose to smell whatever’s left of his drink. without a word, you tilt your head back and down what’s left, swallowing with a grimace as you place the empty glass back on the table.

both boys stare at you, each reacting differently. topper furrows his brow, eyes flicking to the glass to see if there’s anything left. “what’s up with you?” he asks, confused, clearly sensing something off.

rafe, on the other hand, is looking at you with a blank expression, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth—because he knows. “she was definitely just talking to your mom, top,” rafe says with a knowing smile, his tone carrying just the right amount of humor to suggest that, naturally, a conversation with cynthia would drive someone to drink.

topper’s face falls slightly, but he doesn’t even argue. he just glances between the two of you in silence because he knows rafe’s probably right. with a quick check of his phone, he pushes away from the table, his energy deflating. “alright, i’ve gotta go. see you guys.”

“bye, top,” you murmur, watching as he walks off, leaving just you and rafe standing together. once topper’s out of sight, you tilt your head all the way up, meeting rafe’s gaze with a lazy, playful smile.

“you decide on where we’re going?” rafe asks, sliding an arm around you, pulling you close as he starts guiding you toward the stairs.

you hum for a long moment, trying to think, before making something up on the spot. “let’s go jet skiing,” you say, half-joking but testing the waters to see what he’d say.

rafe raises his eyebrows, a slight chuckle escaping him. “you wanna go to monty’s?” he repeats, and you assume it could be some jet ski rental place you must go to. he’s amused but surprisingly open to it. “we can go to monty’s, darlin’.”

rafe drives the two of you out to some place a mile or two away, the sign out front reading ‘montgomery’s jet ski rentals’ in bold blue letters. it’s tucked away along a small marina.

you step out of the car. it’s here that you notice the way rafe moves—a kind of quiet confidence that’s hard to ignore. he strides toward the dock with his head held high, like he’s done this a hundred times. you can’t tell if it’s because you two have apparently been here so often that he just knows his way around or if he’s just naturally this confident.

while rafe chats easily with the staff, laughing and slapping one guy on the back like they’re old friends, you find yourself preparing for the ride. you slip into a life vest, adjusting the straps so it fits snugly.

then you’re stepping onto the dock, the jet ski bobbing gently in the water. rafe climbs on first, settling into the front seat, and turns back to offer you his hand. you take it, letting him guide you into place behind him, and then you wrap your arms around his waist. it feels natural, like you’re meant to be there, holding onto him like this.

and, god, the thought hits you—this is probably a dream for hundreds, maybe thousands of people. to be on a jet ski with drew starkey, any version of him, arms wrapped around his waist, close enough to feel the warmth of his back.

it’s a little surreal, and you can’t help but feel grateful for this weird fucking alternate universe you’re in. being a kook, being rafe cameron’s girlfriend, living out days like this—you could get used to it. you could live like this forever.

rafe glances forward, that cocky smirk barely visible at the corner of his lips. without looking back at you, he mutters, “hold on.” and before you have a chance to reply, he twists the throttle, and the jet ski leaps forward, tearing across the water. your arms instinctively tighten around his waist as the engine roars, and you feel the force of the speed pushing you back slightly.

your eyes widen as you’re propelled across the open water. the jet ski skims over waves. you can barely keep from laughing as the wind whips through your hair. it’s fast—so much faster than you expected—and your heart is beating more than ever.

rafe steers you two in wide, looping turns and tight figure-eights, shouting the loudest, most carefree ‘woo!’ that you think you’ve ever heard. his voice carries over the hum of the engine and the slap of the waves, his laughter echoing as you cling on, a laughing mess yourself.

as the jet ski finally begins to slow, you let your chin rest on his back, just near his shoulder so you can look out ahead. you’re both breathing heavily from the ride, and he’s still grinning, clearly thrilled by his own reckless route. he isn’t heading anywhere specific, just weaving around, but that’s what makes it even better. there’s no destination—just you, him, and the freedom of open water.

“wanna take over?” rafe calls out, and you laugh, thinking he’s kidding. but when he glances back over his shoulder, you catch his expression and feel your own smile falter, realizing he’s dead serious.

next thing you know, you’re seated in front, fingers gripping the throttle while rafe sits behind you, holding on with that unshakeable grin of his. the jet ski jolts forward as you try to get the hang of the controls, and you immediately feel the panic rise, the machine moving faster than you expected.

“rafe, i don’t know what i’m doing!” you shout over your shoulder, but rafe’s only response is laughter.

“just go easy on the throttle,” he says, half-shouting and half-laughing as you attempt to steer. but the jet ski wobbles, veering off a bit too quickly, and your grip slips.

“rafe!” you yell, barely keeping control as he’s practically doubled over behind you, finding the whole thing hysterical. he tries to guide you through it, but it’s impossible to listen when you’re both shouting and laughing, the jet ski zigzagging across the water.

but it slows. he wants to teach you properly.

you feel rafe's hands slip over yours, his fingers resting gently against yours as he takes control of the throttle from behind. his touch is firm but relaxed, guiding your grip as he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “steady now,” he murmurs. “ease it forward like this, yeah?”

you nod. his voice is a steady hum as he talks you through it. “just a little pressure here,” he says, pressing lightly against the throttle. “see? easy.” his fingers guide yours over the controls until you can feel how each movement changes the jet ski’s pace.

after a minute or two, he lets you take over, his hands staying in place to catch you if needed, but he’s not pushing or pulling anymore. you start to feel it, understanding the rhythm of the throttle and how to steer, and rafe just chuckles.

“that’s my girl,” he says, patting his hand on the spot between your thigh and hip, sending a flutter through you as his hand settles back around you.

a grin stretches across your face, and before you know it, you’re letting out a loud scream that echoes across the water as you pick up speed, trusting yourself more with every second. you’re moving faster, the wind whipping past, and for a moment you feel invincible.

when you decide to slow down, you ease off the throttle, leaning back just enough to press into rafe’s chest. you feel his laugh rumble against you. it makes you smile as you let out a breathy laugh of your own. then, you’re off again, speeding forward with rafe’s steadying hands nearby, the two of you gliding over the waves like you were born to do this together.

you’re both sitting across from each other at a little table outside a bayside café. you pick up your sandwich and take a big, satisfying bite, eyes rolling back with a muffled oh my god because it's just that good.

you didn’t realize how hungry you were until now. you lean your head back, savoring the taste, a content sigh escaping as you sit up again, still chewing, and glance at rafe across the table.

he’s got his phone out, scrolling with his eyebrows furrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening behind his sunglasses. he’s squinting slightly, or maybe he’s just annoyed by whatever’s on the screen. you pause mid-bite, lowering your sandwich slightly before asking, “you okay?”

rafe clears his throat, not looking at you just yet, and clicks his phone off. he flips it over on the table, his hand rubbing down the front of his shorts like he’s brushing something off. “yeah, all good,” he says, reaching for his own food, voice casual, but there’s a tension you can sense from his reaction.

it doesn’t add up, but you decide not to push it. you’ve learned when to give him space, and right now, you’re way more into this sandwich than trying to open up that conversation.

you take another bite, glancing around at the scene in front of you as you chew. it’s a perfect day, bay glistening in the sunlight, people passing. by with relaxed smiles, stopping in at shops or heading toward the water. montgomery’s rentals is right across the street, jet skis and kayaks lining the dock.

rafe leans back in his chair, “dad’s finally starting to trust me to, like, step into his position at the company.” he pauses for a beat, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “he’s flying out of state next week, and he’s leavin’ me in charge while he’s gone.”

you just stare at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips without even realizing it. you can feel the pride in your expression as you tell him, “rafe, that’s really good. i’m proud of you.”

he grins wider, clearly trying to play it cool, and then takes a massive, messy bite of his sandwich. he chews with the gusto of someone who thinks a bite is a whole experience, sauce smearing slightly at the corner of his mouth.

you reach over instinctively, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and tossing it back down on the table before going back to your sandwich like it’s second nature.

he swallows and continues, “he hasn’t really told me much, but i figure he’s got some new properties lined up, maybe working out deals or, like, finalizing stuff with investors. you know how he is.”

“yeah, that sounds like ward,” you say, taking another bite, your eyes never leaving him.

“so he’s gonna give me this schedule,” he adds, “a ‘run-down’ or whatever, of what i’ll need to cover. probably sit at the office, sign some stuff, and meet with clients or partners who can’t be pushed off until he’s back.”

“sounds pretty official,” you say, trying to imagine rafe at a desk, talking clients through real estate deals like he was born for it. “do you know what kind of properties he’s working on?”

he shrugs, a small smirk still lingering as he speaks. “knowing him? probably something big—new development or another investment property he wants to secure. he’s been hinting at something ‘game-changing’, like some waterfront project.”

you hum thoughtfully. “so you’ll be doing the groundwork? like, maybe even closing a deal?”

“yeah, maybe,” he says, sounding a little impressed with himself. “i’ll actually get to see if i can handle it.”

it's nice to see rafe so eager to step up, to take on something this big, probably just to prove himself to his dad. he always acts so casual about the family business, but there’s a spark in his eyes today, and you think . . . he can maybe handle being ward cameron for a week.

you just hope you can stay here long enough to see him prove it.

he’s finishing his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a crumpled napkin, and suddenly he’s looking right at you. “oh, yeah—did you ever tell me how that call went with your mom?”

it takes you a second. right, that call with your mom. you remember mentioning it to sarah, but rafe? he still doesn’t even know you hung out with sarah and the others while he was off fishing with ward.

“oh, yeah,” you say, smiling as if the thought just occurred to you. “it was fine. nice to hear from her, i guess. i miss them.” you shrug, playing it casual. but the truth is, you kind of do.

rafe nods, shifting his empty plate and leaning back in his chair, still watching you as he says, “that’s good. i mean, you get so wrapped up in life on the island, it’s easy to go a while without catching up.”

he talks on, making small comments about family and how he totally gets it, but as you sit there, nodding occasionally, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

you almost forgot about that call with your ‘in-this-universe mom.’ it seems so strange—no, it’s stranger that you forgot about it at all. and dad . . . right, your i.t.u. dad was there, too, wasn’t he?

wait . . what?

you feel a slight prickle of discomfort, shifting in your seat as you try to catch every third word rafe’s saying, but really, your mind is circling back to that call.

dad. mom. two words, so familiar. but why are they slipping through your fingers, blurring just a bit?

you force yourself to remember something about them, to pull up a memory, clear as day.

oh! like that one time you and mom spent the whole afternoon baking, sugar and flour coating every surface in the kitchen . . . and dad was there, wasn’t he? but what did he do? your chest tightens, just slightly, and you fidget with your napkin.

okay, try again.

dad. right. he was . . . wait, no, he was definitely there—no, he was doing something.

and then, just like that, the memory clicks into place. right, he’d taken one look at the mess you and mom made, then grabbed the dog and headed out, calling back that he’d be home ‘once the tornado’s over,’ and you and mom laughed.

you exhale, relief washing over you, but there’s still a flicker of something unsettling. why couldn’t you remember that right away?

you try another memory, to reassure yourself. dad did this, mom did that. you’re sifting through so many small, precious fragments, but there’s something strange about each one, something hollow.

the parents you remember—your parents—were so vivid before. but as you replay these memories in your head, they feel softer, blurred at the edges. somehow, they seem more like your parents here—the way they’re talking, laughing, looking at you with the same expressions as your i.t.u. parents.

your stomach twists, realization beginning to dawn, but you can’t even hold onto what that realization is. the longer you stay in this world, the harder it seems to be to grasp what was real and what was . . . this.

are you forgetting your memories?

authors note: okay poor execution LMAO but i know if i was y/n, i wouldve wanted to stay in this universe but we cant have that, so essentially the conflict / the thing that makes her work harder to solve all the relationships in this life for obx!y/n is that shes losing her memories from her real life the longer shes there.

does that make sense?? 😭 like she cant have her cake n eat it too, she can only have one lifetimes memories, her real ones or the ones that belong to the y/n who lives in this universe. makes her work faster to get back to her world so she doesnt feel like she can stay !!

tags: @v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @drewsephrry @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull @cali-888 @coquettajob @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @thereallifebambi @inaluvrsworld @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @sgecorrow @rafesgiirl @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies @maybankslover @honeyluvsatj @darleneslane @alysaaaa444 @w4nnabeurs @thewrittenpodcast @watersquirtpewpewboomm @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @benbarneslut @illicit-affcirs @helo1281917 ++

[maskedbyghost]

part 1 <- the one where simon lost his memories and thinks you're his wife.

simon’s memory starts to return in bits and pieces, little flashes that remind him of things he’s supposed to know—names, missions, places he’s been. and then, of course, he remembers you, remembers everything. but he doesn’t say a word, choosing to stay in this pretend world where you’re his “wife.” he wants to see if maybe, just maybe, you feel something for him, too.

he starts dropping hints, little comments that feel loaded, even if they’re wrapped up in that casual charm of his. “you know,” he murmurs one day, lacing his fingers with yours, “feels good having you around like this. can’t imagine it any other way.” his eyes linger, studying your reaction, waiting for some sign that this means something to you, too.

and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he notices the way you blush, the way your smile falters for just a second before you look away, pretending not to be affected. he’s careful not to push too hard, but every touch, every affectionate “love” or “darlin’” feels like it holds a question.

the team starts noticing, too—price gives him a knowing look now and then, and johnny’s started making teasing comments, nudging you whenever simon’s not looking. it’s like everyone else knows this isn’t just an act anymore.

one evening, as you’re on a quiet walk outside, he turns to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “what would you say if i told you i remember everything?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

you freeze, processing his words, your heart pounding. “everything?”

he nods, looking a little nervous for the first time since this whole charade began. “i remembered a while ago,” he admits, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “but i didn’t say anything… i wanted to see if maybe you… wanted this, too.”

you stare at him, a mixture of shock and something that feels dangerously close to hope. “why didn’t you say something?”

he shrugs, looking down with a small, shy smile. “guess i wanted to keep this feeling going a little longer. being close to you, having a reason to call you mine, even if it was all pretend… i didn’t want to lose that.”

your heart aches at his words, the quiet vulnerability in them.

“you know,” you say softly, finally daring to reach out, resting a hand against his cheek, “it doesn’t have to be pretend.”

his eyes light up, his hand coming up to cover yours, holding it there as if grounding himself in this moment. “you mean that, love?”

“i do,” you whisper, smiling. “i think i have for a long time.”

and just like that, he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels like it’s been waiting forever. when you finally pull back, he’s smiling, his forehead resting against yours.

“guess that makes this official, then,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth.

“yeah,” you say, unable to stop smiling, “i think it does.”

-------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

[httpsdana]

Hi how are you, please can you do something with Pau Cubarsi and just something super sweet and fluffy x

Blush and Bliss~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

i enjoyed writing this so much. enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

It’s a Friday night, and y/n finally convinced Pau to do a self-care evening with her. He was hesitant at first, but with after a little pleading and a playful pout, he caved, laughing as he said, “Alright, princesa, whatever you want.”

She set up everything in the bathroom, laying out face masks, lip masks, and even some under-eye patches. Pau looks at it all with wide eyes, a bit overwhelmed. “Are we really putting all of this on my face?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, and you’ll love it!” she insisted holding up a fluffy headband. “Now sit down, handsome. This is going to be so relaxing.”

He chuckles, sitting on the edge of the tub. “If you say so. But only because my princesa wants to pamper me.” He lets her put the headband on, holding back a laugh as she adjust it to keep his hair out of his face.

"you look so cute" she pinched his cheeks, making him roll his eyes playfully, opposite to the blush that found its way on his cheeks

She started by applying a hydrating face mask to his skin, and Pau sits still for about ten seconds before leaning in, trying to steal a kiss. “Ah-ah,” she denys, pushing him back gently. “We can’t mess up the mask, Pau! Give it a few minutes.”

He pouts, feigning offense. “You’re so cruel,” he teases. “How am I supposed to sit here with you looking so cute and not kiss you?”

y/n laughs slightly, rolling her eyes. “You’ll survive. Let me just finish applying the mask.” Once it’s on, she grabs two pink lip masks, handing one to him. “Okay, now this one goes on your lips.”

Pau examines the lip mask with curiosity. “It’s… pink,” he says, chuckling. “Are you sure this is going to make me look good?”

“Of course!” she grins, peeling the backing off and helping him place it on his lips. “You’re going to be the most radiant man in Barcelona.”

He tries to speak but remembers the mask and just gives her an exaggerated thumbs-up, making her giggle. Then she puts on her own lip mask, sitting down beside him.

y/n sits there, scrolling through her phone, showing him funny memes and videos, and he’s trying to laugh without moving the mask. But after a few minutes, he scoots closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. She narrows her eyes at him. “Pau… don’t even think about it.” she mumbled under the mask

He feigns innocence, his eyes wide. “Think about what, cariño?” he said, his mask slipping a bit.

She gives him a playful glare. “You know what. No sneaking kisses. We need these to stay put.”

He pouts again, mumbling through the mask, “You’re so mean.” Then he adds in a dramatic tone, “I’m suffering, and you don’t even care. I just want one little kiss.”

“Patience,” she giggles. “Good things come to those who wait.” She pats his cheek, and he sighs, pretending to be heartbroken.

Eventually, the time is up, and y/n gently peels off the lip and face masks. Pau watches her carefully, his green eyes watching intensely every detail of her face as she gently helped him remove the masks.

He eagerly waited for her to finish so he can finally close the distance between them. y/n leaned in to inspect his face, admiring how soft his skin looks.

“There,” she say with a satisfied smile, running a finger along his jaw. “You look radiant, Pau. How do you feel?”

He grins, reaching up to touch his cheeks. “Like I’m glowing. Guess my princesa knows what she’s doing.”

She's about to respond when he suddenly grabs the back of her neck and pulls her close pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. y/n laughs against him, feeling the warmth of his hands and the giddy happiness bubbling up in her chest. He pulls back with a mischievous grin. “Finally!” he says. “You have no idea how hard that was.”

She giggles, resting her forehead against his. “You survived. And now you’re all soft and pampered.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed with the results. “I hate to admit it, but you might be onto something with this self-care thing.”

“See?” she said in a teasing tone. “Next time, you won’t even need convincing.”

“Next time?” he laughs, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap. “Only if it means I get more time like this with you.” He brushes his nose against hers, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “And maybe a few more of those kisses.”

She smiles, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Pau. Otherwise, I’d make you wait even longer.”

“Oh, so I’m cute now?” he teases, his eyes gleaming with mischief, although his cheeks had turned into the darkest shade of red. “You didn’t seem to think I was cute when you were pushing me away earlier.”

y/n laughs at his words playfully rolling her eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re adorable. But let’s go finish our self-care night with some popcorn and a movie. I promise no more masks, just you, me, and maybe a blanket fort.”

He lights up at the idea, taking her hand and tugging you toward the living room. “That,” he says, squeezing her hand, “sounds perfect. As long as I get to hold my princesa the whole time.”

The two of them end the night snuggled up in a cozy blanket fort, laughing, sharing popcorn, and stealing plenty of kisses—face masks no longer in the way.

[bisnes-socks]

okay let's go bananas 🍌

what jumps out at me about bananas is how fruity it is. in many ways lmao.

first of all, i want to talk about his skill once again. because these lyrics are skilled.

so in rap music there are rhyme schemes and there are thematical schemes. a rhyme scheme is about rhyming words and how you alternate between different rhyme types. a thematical scheme is about what you're talking about and how you bake one lyrical theme into different meanings through metaphor. most rap songs will have multiple thematical schemes through the song, and holding on to one thematical scheme for several bars let alone verses takes skill.

well. bananas holds on to one thematical scheme through the whole entire song. and that theme is, basically, fruit and vegetable.  there are ten different fruits and vegetables mentioned in the song and multiple of them are not only there to help a rhyme scheme but because they have metaphorical or innuendo meanings that fit the lyrical content, the subject of the song. they further the plot, so to speak.

on top of that, i'd say at least three of them also work to multiply the fruit theme and lift it into a different level, but i'll talk about that more a bit later.

he is really skilled at using this fruit and veg scheme to "further the plot" and paint a picture. so let's look at some of the bars.

"pokella on mandariinit kainalossa" meaning "the bouncer has mandarins under his armpits". if you understand the line, it's not only hilarious but informative. if you don't, let me explain. this line refers to a finnish slang term mandariinikana, mandarin chicken. mandariinikana is someone who pretends and acts like their biceps are bigger than they actually are. mandariinikana will hold their arms a bit further away from their torso, to make it look like their muscles are so big their arms simply cannot just rest at their sides and touch their body - but in reality, there is no muscle there. in fact, what is actually between their "biceps" and their torso is just air, empty space. so much space you could fit mandarins in their armpits. hence -> "pokella on mandariinit kainalossa" is not only a clever bar in the fruit scheme, it also tells us so much about what kind of character this bouncer is. a very smart line!

"en ole greippi, en ole lime, olen makea ja onnelline" meaning "i'm not a greip fruit, i'm not a lime, i'm sweet and happy" excellent use of the fruit scheme! what does this bar tell us? greip fruits and limes are sour. he denounces being sour, and underlines that he is sweet. which, by the way! in finnish makea works the same way as cool in english. if someone is makea (or makee) that means they are cool. i think he uses makea here to mean both sweet and cool at the same time.

second verse "aamulla kurkut silmillä ja mun otsaan on kasvanut tatti" again, such a cool and informative way to use the thematical scheme. "aamulla kurkut silmillä" meaning "cucumbers on my eyelids in the morning" paints a vivid picture and gives us so much information about where we are in the story. "otsaan on kasvanut tatti" now we're once again deep in finnish territory but i'll try. tatti otsassa (bolete mushroom on the forehead) is a cleaner version of kyrpä otsassa (cock on the forehead) and, do not ask me where this comes from, but kyrpä otsassa means you're very annoyed and put out. so again, using the thematical scheme in a clever way, he has informed us of the mood in the story now.

and so we get to the eggplant. now. eggplant, peach and banana (and the way he's been using bananas in his live shows..) are what i meant before, when i said some of these fruits are opening up another level to this fruity thematical scheme.

because like.

this song is pretty gay. and i don't think that's an accident.

it's not just that the bouncer is checking him out, it's that he notices. giving the bouncer the good old look back, hm? and his DM's are full of eggplants, dick pics. is this a gay club, where everyone is "going bananas"? because hear me out.

jere would have grown up at a time where fruittari was a term used to describe certain type of men. and yes the word fruittari comes from the english word fruit. fruittari men weren't necessarily gay, they were just sort of.. male fashionistas? at a time where it was, i guess, so unusual for men to care about their looks that it needed a term lmao.

now like i said, fruittari men weren't necessarily gay, but then that word isn't really used anymore, not in that way. and i would argue that to refer to any man as any type of fruit, in today's finland, would come across as calling them gay.

so for him to build an entire fruit scheme to describe both himself and other (male) charcters in the song? yeah that's kinda fruity in the gay way lmao.

now, i'm not saying this is a coming out song. i'm saying he's clever to recognise the implications of the fruit and veg scheme and to lean into it, rather than trying to no-homo the scheme. i don't think he cares what people make of his sexuality. i mean hell, it could be a coming out song! or it could just be him being gay for 3 minutes for the thematical scheme of it all. who knows! either way it fucking slaps.

my unpopular(?) opinion is that bananas doesn't have a deep secret meaning behind it, i think it's about what it says on the tin: partying. but of course, when you look at the placement of the song on the album, you can make conclusions if partying also works as a metaphor of some sort in the album narrative. or it could very well be the sort of partying that ultimately has had to end, part of the toxic lifestyle that snuck into his life after the whirldwind of 2023.

however. this song sounds kinda old school to me, for multiple reasons. the sound itself fits this new käärijä era, but thematically and lyrically this also has the ghost of like välikuolema or even like puuta heinää or something. this sounds like the bratty yapper käärijä.

and towards the end of the song you hear these synth hits that remind me of early 2000's, idk like in da club by 50cent etc. so even more old school.

and there's one detail that kind of dates this song. at the very end he says "paita auki Copacabanas". i don't think he means the actual real copacabana in brasil, i think he means a club in helsinki that had a famous dance floor that could fit like hundreds of people. and the club was known for letting absolutely no-one skip the queue, because you could not reserve tables on the restaurant side of the establishment after nine - and in the beginning of the song he is queuing.

well, copacabana hasn't existed in years. i don't remember exactly when it closed, but a new club opened to where is used to be in 2016, so it's been at least 8-9 years. 

so maybe it's a nostalgic song? or maybe it's about slipping into old habits? i don't know.

what i do know it's damn clever either way.

this post is dedicated to anon, who asked me about bananas, got me thinking about it, and so i wrote like the entire thematical scheme bit at 1:30 am

[highprettybabyy]

Guilty as sin?

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: nat saves you from an asshole, you thank her by cooking dinner, smut ✨

Warnings: 18+, vomiting, violence, toxic man, sex, masturbation, caught masturbating, fingering, cunnilingus, nat's topping, writing in cum?

AN: i love Guilty as Sin? from TTPD, one of my favs 100%. also i saw someone on tiktok saying that they couldn't waterboard that information out of them that blondie's just confessing in her songs lmao. fkn love her ovulation songs hahaha, anyways plz enjoy.

word count: 4.7k

--//--

The gym was more crowded than usual, a lot of new agents having passed the first level of recruitment, which meant more people in the regular gym. Besides the ‘normal’ gym, there was a specialty gym that was more equipped for super humans in the basement, but you and a few others don’t like the atmosphere and prefer the natural sunlight this gym offers. Hence why one of the cocky new recruits was constantly pestering you.

“You should actually pull your shoulders back more.” He remarked, snide grin on his face as he let his weight fall against the machine you were using. “I think I’m fine, thanks” You muttered out. You wished he’d leave you alone, not in the mood to deal with shit like this today, but he was like a cockroach that wouldn’t leave you be. It’s actually baffling how this guy is still trying to make conversation, your giant noise-cancelling headphones not making it obvious apparently that you wanted to be left alone.

You huffed out in annoyance as he kept on criticising you, disguised as helpful commentary, followed by ‘flirty’ remarks that made you want to barf. He thought he was being slick, the way he kept on looking back to his friends by the weights station, then back to you with a revolting smile on his face. For a second you thought maybe he just wanted to use your equipment, so you grabbed your towel and water before leaving to the leg press. But he had just had to continue his boring, self-inflating, one-sided conversation about how he was top of the program, and that he’d be glad to show you “how it’s really done”.

After 15 minutes of his presence, Natasha walked in, and somehow time stood still as your soul felt the redhead walk in, eyes instantly connecting. You smiled for the first time that day, the mere sight of the redhead calming every tense nerve in your body. Her firm gaze softened upon meeting yours, to most people her expression looked unmoved but you knew she had a little soft spot for you. She nodded slightly in greeting before moving to the treadmills by the entrance of the gym.

The guy still hadn’t taken the hint. “You’ve gotta place your feet closer together actua-“ “Hey, dude I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to work out in peace here, if you don’t mind?” You kept calm as you removed your headphones to directly speak to him, offering a curt smile to try to not upset him too much. He didn’t seem to like that too much, raising his voice as he told you that he was just trying to help and make conversation. You frowned at that, stating that a conversation is between two people and that he��s been talking uninterrupted for the last 20 minutes.

Natasha took notice of the slight change in her surroundings as a lot of people became uncomfortable from his behaviour. She shut off the treadmill and walked over to investigate where the noise came from. “Whatever bitch, you’re just jealous that I’m fucking better than you, you were probably one of the last in the recruitment program anyway.” He spat. Before you could retort a very angry Natasha Romanoff stood in between you, staring him down.

He shrank slightly under her piercing gaze as she crossed her arms, but he still wasn’t backing down completely. “What do you want?” He scoffed, pretending as if he wasn’t about to wet himself. “Your name and recruitment ID.” She simply stated, posture unwavering. “I’m not telling you that.” “Oh well ok then, how about we spar for it?” She asked, head tilting slightly. He barked out a laugh “Hah, I don’t fight women.” You decided to jump in, you couldn’t wait to see Nat pound this guy into the floor. (although you wished that she pounded you into the floor instead, wink, wink)

“Aww, someone’s scared.” You pouted, hoping to rile this unrightfully smug guy up. “I’m not fucking scared of some chick! Alright then, fucking bring it on!”

-

The boxing ring quickly cleared out seeing the Black Widow and some temperamental 6’3”toddler approach, with you skipping just a few steps behind them. They each took their position across each other before the referee signalled they could start. The douchebag immediately went for the offense, Natasha effortlessly dodging everything he threw. Only futile efforts were made from his part. You could see the desperation in his fighting, using illegal techniques and effectively making the ref yell at him. You’re honestly surprised that Natasha hadn’t beaten him to a pulp yet, you would’ve knocked him out before the sound of the whistle could register in his head. But Natasha is a paradox, and she has her reasons.

He huffed loudly, frustrated under the watchful eyes of his buddies, who started laughing at his antics. “Come on, you dodgy bitch!” Echoed through the room, followed swiftly by a loud smack and thud. Natasha bent down to pull his ID from his vest pocket. “Tyler West, 1109.” She dropped the card on his face while he was still down, before hopping out of the ring.

“Why did you take so long, Nat, he could have been out since the starting whistle?” You joked, a large smile covering your face, while you collected your things to leave. “Now where’s the fun in that, Y/N?” She retorted. “No, but seriously thank you, I was this close-“ you accentuated by basically pressing your fingers together “to losing my shit completely.”

The rasp in her voice was audibly heard as she chuckled. “Anytime, Y/N.” God- that voice. You smiled up at her as her woodsy perfume entered your airways, effectively paralysing you. Piercing emerald eyes looked down at you. Your tongue unconsciously darted out to wet your lips, an action not unnoticed by the redhead in front of you. “I’ll make sure he gets fired for his behaviour, he shouldn’t even have passed the recruitment test with how shitty he was acting.” You looked down as Natasha still felt traces of anger flowing through her, but the touch of your hesitant hand grabbing hers calmed her down quickly.

“How about I cook you dinner tonight as a thank you?” You fiddled with her hand a bit before looking up again hopefully. Natasha’s lips quirked up, before nodding and stating that that would be lovely. You smiled again, a very tender moment that was rudely interrupted by West throwing up from the concussion. Your smile turned into a look of disgust. “I’m going to go now. I’ll see you tonight.”

-

As you were preparing dinner for you and Natasha, Wanda walked into the kitchen. “Hmmm, smells nice detka. What are you making?” You greeted the witch with a smile. “Some slow braised pork belly for ramen.” Wanda raised her eyebrows, “Wow, what’s the occasion?” You looked down with a blush spreading quickly to your cheeks as you thought about the earlier events. “Well, Nat helped me with something earlier today, so I’m cooking dinner to thank her.” Wanda grinned.

“So you’re finally confessing??” She exclaimed with joy. “NO.” You glared jokingly at your best friend, making her burst out in laughter. She is.. aware of your feelings for Natasha, to say the least. “Come on, how long are you planning to wait until you’re going to express your longings to her?” This time you laughed, “HAH, I’m keeping these longings locked inside a vault. For evermore.” Scoffingly crossing your arms to accentuate your point. Wanda rolled her eyes lightly before you spoke up again after tasting your broth. “Plus she doesn’t even like me how I like her.”

Wanda’s hand smacked against her face in frustration. “Y/N omg just ask her.” You took another spoon and dipped it in the broth, softly blowing on it to cool it down before handing it to the annoyed witch. “No.” You said as she sipped the contents of the spoon. “Damn, that’s good.” You smiled in victory as you stirred the pot again. “How did she help you to deserve such a delicatesse? I’m doing that next time.”

“She euhm- there was this shitty guy bothering me at the gym, and she knocked him out.” Wanda stared at you wide-eyed, thinking of taking you to a specialist ophthalmologist because you must be fucking blind to not see all the signs. “Oh, and she’s getting him fired.” You pulled your lips in a tight smile as you waited for Wanda to react. She turned around and left the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to say “Only your actions talk.” before walking off.

-

You had about 30 minutes until dinner, having agreed to eat at 7. Ok, ok. Pork belly is resting. Bowls are preheating. Soy marinated eggs are in the fridge. Chili oil is cooling down. Scallion: sliced. Yellow chili: sliced. Tiny bakchoi: prepped. Broth is simmering. Bean sprouts… are bean sprouting.. I feel like I’m forgetting something..

You looked around, everything was clean, you had a candle going on the table and everything except the bowls was already laid out. You looked down and saw the mess on your clothes.

CLOTHES! O M G. Ok shit what am I going to wear, what is she going to wear? Omfg how much time do I have left. I look like shit. ‘She’s going to laugh at me - Jezus she’s not going to laugh at you, it’s Nat. – Yes she is, who wouldn’t? look at me? There’s soy sauce on my pants! – Let’s fucking change first before she gets here! –‘

“Oh my god Y/N if you don’t stop fucking spiralling I’m going to hurt you.” Wanda called out in a sing song voice. You looked at her, a bit in shock, before realisation struck over you and you gave her a cheeky smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realise.” She grabbed your hand and pulled you towards your room.

-

After rummaging through your closet for a few minutes, you hadn’t found anything that felt right to wear. You were getting frustrated and you felt like throwing yourself to the ocean rocks. “Wait here.” Wanda ordered you as she walked out the door. She returned a few minutes later, with a stunning flowy green dress. “Oh Wanda you absolute angel! This is gorgeous, where did you get this?” You thanked her furiously, kissing her cheek until she pulled away in annoyance. “I had it laying in my closet, I was going to wear it on a date with an ex of mine, but we broke up before I could wear it so.” She explained.

“Oh, are you sure I can wear it? I can find something else?” You hesitated, trying to hand the dress back to Wanda. “Of course it’s alright, I can use this in my maid of honour speech when you guys get married.” She laughed as you rolled your eyes, thanking her again. She wished you good luck, leaving you to get changed and finish your look.

-

You finished in the nick of time, rushing back to the kitchen were you bumped into someone. Yeah, it was Natasha. “Woah there.” She held you upright as you almost fell. “Omg hi Nat, I’m sorry for crashing into you.” You finally were able to take a good look at each other. Natasha wore a tight black button-up and black suit pants and again her scent invaded your nose stronger than ever. You took a shaky breath, heavily affected by the sight and smell of her.

You failed the way Natasha’s eyes raked over you. “You look beautiful, Y/N.” Your gaze snapped up to hers. “I- well, I- Thanks Natty.”

-

You took the bowls out of the oven with oven mitts, carefully plating the ramen noodles, everything (culinary wise) was running smoothly. You ushered a curious Natasha to the table, wanting to surprise her with the presentation. It looked beautiful when you brought it to the table, placing it delicately in front of the redhead, then placing your bowl down. You took off the oven mitts and tossed them on the counter before sitting down to see Natasha entranced by the sight. “Y/N… this looks, and smells, so fucking good.” She groaned out in a deep and husky voice. Your mouth dropped open at her tone, it sent shivers down your spines and through your bones.

“Thank you so much, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”  She looked at you softly, entranced by the way the candle flickered in your y/e/c eyes. The window behind you was cracked open, letting in a soft early spring breeze that caused the occasional shiver to run over your arms. You nervously bit at your nail as you waited for Natasha’s reaction. She softly smiled as she lifted her chopsticks to her mouth.

Strangely this was the first time Natasha was tasting something that you cooked. She usually orders something, or Wanda brings her something, or Tony orders catering, stuff like that. But after tasting the ramen, she moaned.

Your face flushed quickly, so did hers after realising what she’d just let escape. She coughed nervously, “Wow, this is good.” You didn't dare look into her eyes as you thanked her, trying to hide your obvious blush from the watchful spy in front of you.

-

After you finished dinner you were saying your goodbyes. Natasha leaned down to kiss your cheek. “I hope I get the chance more often to taste your cooking.” You smiled and retorted “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

You talked for a few more minutes before saying good night to each other and going your separate ways, even though your rooms are next to each other. But Natasha had to go check on something in Tony’s office before she could call it a night.

-

You were laying on your bed, half naked. You took off the dress and your shoes after the ‘date’ and tried to cool off on your bed in just your bra and underwear. You dragged your hands over your face. But every time you closed your eyes, the image of Natasha in that tight shirt haunted you. This triggered a train of thoughts. Natasha in tight clothing, Natasha working out and sweating, Natasha taking a protective stance in front of you, Natasha’s gaze earlier. You must be seeing visions.

I’m going mad.

Every frame in your head made you hotter and hotter.

Natasha crashed through the door, her wild gaze found you and in only a few long strides she reached you, cupping your face before devouring you. Her hands gripped your waist possessively, roaming towards your back as you melted into her grasp. You let out an soft moan as her tongue explored your mouth. Your actions turned fast and desperate, messy top lip kisses as the sounds reverberated through the dimly lit room.

“Please.” You sighed out as Natasha moved her lips to mark your neck. She moved you backwards until your knees hit the bed. You fell and dragged Natasha on top of you. Her weight pressing you into the mattress was comforting and she pressed you further down as she devoured you. Her hand came up to grip your jaw, keeping you in place as she explored your mouth. Pulling delicious sounds out of you with every action.

Your hand travelled south, slipping underneath the fabric of your underwear as your eyes were forcibly shut close, trying to visualise the scenario in your head. “Oh, Nat-“ Your other hand gripped your jaw, like the way Natasha did in your fantasy.

“Please Natty-“ You pleaded, finally opening your eyes to look at her. Her eyes were hooded as she took the sight of you in. “What baby, ask nicely.” She said, mouthing at your exposed collar bone. “Please, take me.” She groaned against as soon as your words registered in her head. “Yeah? Want me to take you? Make you feel good?” You nodded desperately, pulling her face back in to kiss her. A high whine leaving your throat.

Her hand quickly pulled your underwear down, her face following quickly, placing open-mouthed kisses on every patch of naked skin she could reach. She wrapped her hands around your thighs, locking you in place before dragging her tongue through your sopping wet folds.

“OH, Oh – Oh my god Nat. Please- please” You were whimpering out, your fingers collecting your arousal before rubbing it on your clit teasingly.

“You taste so good baby.” Natasha husked out. She was building you up so slowly, but so strongly. It was like she knew your body better than you did. Your breathing became laboured, seemingly struggling to handle the way she was building you up to something that would feel like a supernova exploding through you. The redhead noticed of course, pulling away to place a kiss against on your hip. “Breathe for me, gorgeous.” She said as she inserted a finger into you. It’s like she wanted you to fail.

You gasped, one hand grabbing at her forearm as the other held the sheets in a white-knuckle grip. A tear slipped down from your eyes and into your ears. She felt so fucking good. “God you’re gripping me so tight, malysh, all for me.” You whined as she inserted another finger into you, slowly thrusting in and out of you. “Yours.”

The sight of you made her feral, your chest quickly rising and falling as she pulled so many delicious sounds and gasps from you. It came to a point where her tempo became unrelenting as all you could do was lay there and take everything she gave you. The sloshing sounds reverberated through the room and the atmosphere reeked of sex.

She moved up so she could kiss you again, missing the feeling of your lips against hers. You could hardly kiss her back, overwhelmed by the feeling of her skin against yours and her fingers unravelling you. “Hmm you’re almost there aren’t you? You wanna cum princess? You wanna cum for me?” She moaned against your neck, licking a stripe up to your jaw and then behind your ear before biting the sensitive skin there, which is what brought you over the edge. You shook against her, waves of pleasure crashing over you. It felt surreal, like your spirit left your body for a brief second. You thought this was the perfect way to die.

“OH NATASHA!“ You screamed out in pleasure. Fingers rubbing tight circles over your sensitive nub. You were convulsing, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your chest was heaving as you rubbed your non-occupied hand across your body, hoping it would calm you down enough to remove the black spots from your vision. You felt hot, the sheets underneath you feeling like they’re on fire.

She pulled her fingers slowly out of you, so you wouldn’t be shocked into the empty feeling. While making hard eye contact she took her cum-covered index finger to write ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, before moving her fingers up to her face to suck them clean.

“Y/N, are your okay??” Natasha called out as she burst through the door. She wasn’t expecting the sight in front of her. You sprawled across your bed, hand in your panties, sweaty and panting. Your eyes shot open in terror. Natasha quickly realising her misstep as she made eye contact with you. You quickly covered up with a blanket that was laying beside you.

“Nat, omg, hi- what-“ You stuttered out, you don’t think you can play this off anymore. “Y/N, I’m so sorry but I thought I heard you calling my name..?” She looked at you apologetically. The blood rushed into your cheeks, tinting them maroon. “I- euhm, well-“ You stammered. Natasha being the professionally trained spy that she is, quickly put two and two together after her initial chock.

“Oh, you were calling my name then?” She crossed her arms and kicked the door shut, suddenly a lot more confident that you might return her feelings. You were sure that the amount of blood that rushed to your face was harmful. “This is an interesting predicament I have found you in, malyshka.. Screaming my name? With your fingers buried in that pretty pussy? Hmm?”

She inched closer to you as you didn’t seem to object. “Were you thinking of me?” Natasha asked. You saw the way her eyes were looking at you now, pupils dilated so much that her irises looked black. The way her mouth hung open slightly as she took you in. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe Natasha did like you. You didn’t want to leave her hanging any further, insecurity slowly creeping up the redhead’s spine, thinking she might’ve been dreaming that her affections were mutual.

You nodded slowly, and the spy beamed. “Yeah? You were? – Use your words, baby.” She asked as you started nodding again. “Yeah, I-I was..” You turned very shy, forcefully closing your eyes and gripping the blanket that barely covered you until your knuckles turned white. “Hmm, and what was I doing?”

“Y-you were touching me.. making me feel good..” She was standing next to you now, eyes looking down at you with an indescribable look of hunger. You looked up at her, and the aura in the room turned hot. “And how was I doing that exactly, sweetheart?” She asked as she sat down next to you, the blanket falling of your body slightly, exposing new skin that Natasha can admire.

If you were reading the signs wrong, you were going into the Canadian woods to throw yourself to the wolves.

“Like this.” You grabbed her hand with the one that you used to get off mere minutes ago, fingers still sticky from your arousal, and manoeuvred it inside your panties, before taking two of her fingers and sliding them against you.

Natasha looked absolutely and desperately feral now, swallowing the large lump in her throat to try and ground herself. She moaned as she took over control, rubbing her fingers up and down your slippery folds. You removed your hand as Natasha continued her administrations, using your other hand to grab hers to intertwine your fingers. “Y/N, baby, this wet from only thinking about me?”

You let out a whine while nodding, “Please.” You don’t know what you were begging for, your mind was already partially gone from your first orgasm, Natasha could take the reins. Maybe that’s why you were begging, begging for her to take control.

She brought your hand up, kissing each knuckle before pulling both of her hands away. You whined and shook your head. “N-No please don’t leave me, please I need you, I love you. I can’t-“ “Hey, hey, I’m not going anywhere. Y/N” Natasha interrupted you before it hit her. “Y-you love me?” There were tears in your eyes, suddenly overcome with emotions as you nodded again. You mistook her momentary silence as rejection as you started pulling your knees up to your chest, but they were forced down again as Natasha leaped against you, kissing you hard.

Rivulets kept streaming from your eyes as you kissed, fusing Natasha’s delicious taste with the saltiness from your tears. She eventually pulled away, breathing short and heavy. “I love you too, Y/N.” Your lips turned upwards and the sad tears turned into happy ones as you professed your love again. She pulled you in again, embracing you in her strong arms, as she placed gentle kisses to the side of your face.

You grabbed her jaw to move her lips to yours again. She immediately deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth greedily. She manoeuvred herself so she could lay between your legs, which wrapped around her waist. Natasha could feel the heat radiating from your core and she had never been turned on this much.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” She sighed out against your lips, her hand travelling south again to pull your underwear off. She nipped your collarbone as she shoved your underwear in her pocket, before slipping her fingers between your folds again.

“Oh, Nat.” You breathed out, and you felt her smile against you. She lowered her mouth to your breasts, which were still covered by your bra. This didn’t seem to bother her, as she simply dragged it down to free your breasts, instantly wrapping her lips around your hardening nipples. “Oh, oh, Natty, oh.” You were a whining, blabbering mess. Natasha unravelling you so delicately.

Just as she used her teeth to graze your nipple, she inserted two fingers into you. You gasped loudly, reaching down to grab Natasha’s back harshly with your nails. Even though she’s still fully clothed, she hissed from the sudden sting. You were clawing at her, the urge to feel her skin overwhelming but you couldn’t find the words, instead letting out desperate whines, in hope she’d understand.

Luckily for you, she did, and she took off her jacket and shirt, leaving your hands free to roam her skin. She kissed you briefly again before finally travelling down to taste you. She laid between your legs, grabbing a pillow and signalling you to lift your hips. She placed the pillow underneath you and grabbed your thighs to pull you down.

She sighed contently, placing a delicate kiss above your mound, followed by biting at your inner thighs. She took her time, placing marks everywhere she wanted while you were whining and trying to move your hips closer to her mouth. “Patience, malyshka, I want to take my time with you.” You couldn’t think, lost in the way her mouth feels on you. You couldn’t wait for when she’d finally delve between your folds again. Only breathless pleads left your mouth.

“Please- please” You chanted while searching for something to hold, Natasha offered her hand again and placed it on your lower abdomen, which you gratefully grabbed with both of your hands. Natasha kept teasing you until you finally looked down. She was already looking up at you, “Atta girl.”

A breathless moan escaped you, followed by high pitched whimpers, as Natasha finally dragged her tongue over your sensitive clit. She explored your sex, a combination of kissing, nipping, broad or pointed strokes of her tongue, inside, outside, everything. This woman was devouring you like she’d been starving her entire life. This felt like the beginning of the end, like you would die if she continued, but if she stopped you were sure you’d suffer the same fate. And dying with her tongue shoved deep inside you was better than any other option laid out on the table.

Her free hand had loosened around your leg, and was actively travelling to where Nat was unfolding you. She removed her tongue, but quickly silenced your upcoming whines and protests by stretching you out on her fingers. You squeezed Natasha’s hand hard enough to bruise, and she pressed her hand down lightly to put pressure on your lower stomach. You felt so, so full.

She even started scissoring her fingers to fully rub against your walls, and you screamed out “NAT- OH, OH”. “I know my sweet girl, you are so close aren’t you, I can feel you squeezing my fingers, I can hardly move them.” You were aimlessly nodding to everything she said. “Yes, YES- PLEASE” She adjusted her head a bit, kissing your hip before wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking. “NATASHA-“ You let out a strangled cry, cumming around her fingers.

You were right, you died for a moment, you were sure of it. Your breath halted as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over your grave, your entire body convulsing. Natasha used the hand that you were crushing to rub over your hip and ribcage, hoping to calm you down. You finally gasped in a breath of air and searched for her hand to hold again. You were still breathing hard as you looked down at soft emerald eyes.

She slowly pulled out of you and sucked all except one of her fingers clean, using that one to write ‘mine’ on the place you fantasised about.

[lvmoure]

Jump Then Fall CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x childhoodbff!reader

Summary: In which you loved him the moment you turned 7 years old. In which she fell first but he fell harder.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Part 2 Part 3

You were only seven when it hit you for the first time: a fluttery feeling, soft and strange, but warm like a summer breeze. The source of this unexpected feeling was none other than Carlos Sainz, your best friend since you could remember. He was the boy who sat next to you in class, the one who chased you around the playground, and the one who always let you have the last cookie at lunch.

It was a sunny afternoon, the kind where the sunlight spilled across the playground in warm, lazy beams, illuminating everything in a golden hue. You and Carlos were at your favorite spot by the swings, taking turns seeing who could go the highest. Carlos grinned at you, his cheeks flushed from the thrill of the game, his laughter bright and unrestrained. You felt your heart race, pounding in a way that seemed strange and exciting all at once.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Carlos called out, waving his hand in front of your face. He was laughing, his eyes squinting with joy as the wind tossed his dark hair in every direction.

You snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks heating up as you stammered, "Of course I am! You were saying… uh, something about soccer?"

Carlos groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I was talking about how we should form a team, and I was going to ask you to be my teammate. But now I'm not so sure, since you're off in dreamland!"

You felt your face warm even more, but you managed to laugh. "Fine, I'll be your teammate, but only if you promise to pass the ball sometimes!"

He laughed, pretending to consider your terms. "Deal," he said, reaching out his pinky. You linked yours with his, feeling a spark—a small, inexplicable jolt that made you freeze for just a second. But Carlos didn't seem to notice; he was already excitedly planning your imaginary soccer team's strategy.

As the two of you chattered away, you realized how much you loved moments like this. Little did you know, these small, simple moments would be the foundation of a love that would grow with you, one that would shape your every feeling for years to come.

Years passed, and the innocent feelings you had as a child grew complicated, layered with insecurities and fear of change. By the time you reached high school, Carlos was no longer just "that boy next to you." He had grown into someone everyone noticed, with his easy charm, his passion for sports, and the same unfiltered laugh that always made you feel like the only person in the room. It wasn't just the small things that made you realize you were in love with him; it was everything about him, the way he treated people, the way he never held back.

You watched him from across the cafeteria, trying not to be obvious. Carlos was surrounded by his friends, laughing and animated, and you could see why everyone liked him so much. But you kept your feelings locked away, never daring to say a word. You were terrified of what would happen if he knew—terrified of losing him, of the awkwardness that might come with a confession.

"Are you staring at Carlos again?" your friend teased, nudging you playfully.

You jolted, quickly looking down at your food, cheeks flaming. "No, I was… I was just lost in thought."

"Yeah, sure," she said with a smirk. "You've got it bad, and you know it."

You groaned, hiding your face. "I can’t tell him. It’d ruin everything."

"He’d probably be flattered," she said gently. "But I get it. Some things are scarier when it comes to best friends."

A part of you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same way. But you couldn't risk it. So you kept quiet, holding your feelings close and letting them simmer in silence. There were moments when he looked at you, really looked, and you'd find yourself wondering if he could see the way you felt. But every time, he'd just flash you a grin or make a joke, and you’d brush it off, convincing yourself that he couldn’t possibly feel the same.

You told yourself that being close to him as his friend was enough, even if it hurt sometimes to keep the truth hidden.

The day he introduced his girlfriend to you, it felt like the world was crashing down around you. You plastered on a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces.

"Hey, this is Isabela," Carlos said with a bright smile, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. "Isn't she amazing?"

You forced a laugh, pushing down the wave of jealousy and sadness that threatened to spill out. "Yeah, she seems great," you managed, feeling like every word you spoke was a lie.

Isabela was everything you weren’t—confident, beautiful, and effortlessly charming. She seemed to know Carlos in ways that you didn’t, ways that you wished you could. You watched them together, the way he looked at her, and it tore you apart. But you stayed by his side, putting on a brave face and pretending that you were fine.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked one day, noticing the sadness in your eyes.

You forced a smile. "Of course, I’m just tired."

He gave you a long, searching look, as if he could see through your mask. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

But you couldn’t tell him this, not now. So you just nodded, hoping he’d never find out how deeply you were hurting.

Years passed, and one day, Carlos showed up at your door, his face pale and eyes rimmed red. Before he could even speak, you wrapped him in a hug, sensing the heartbreak he was carrying. Isabella had broken up with him, and he was devastated.

"I thought we had something real," he said, his voice breaking. "But she said she couldn’t handle it."

You held him close, soothing him with gentle words, even as your heart ached at the sight of his pain. Part of you felt relief—relief that he was no longer with her, that there might be a chance for you. But mostly, you just wanted to be there for him, to be the shoulder he could lean on.

"I’m here for you," you whispered, your hand running comfortingly over his back. "You’re going to get through this, Carlos. I promise."

He looked at you then, and for a moment, something seemed to shift in his gaze. But he was hurting too much to notice it, and you were too afraid to hope.

Months after the breakup, Carlos found himself looking at you in a way he hadn’t before. It was small things—like the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you always knew when he needed comfort, or the way you were just there, unwavering in your support. He began to realize that maybe, all this time, the person he was looking for had been right beside him.

He wanted to tell you. Wanted to confess that he felt something he couldn’t quite explain, something warm and soft that made his heart beat a little faster. But he held back, afraid that maybe he’d missed his chance, that his feelings would only complicate things.

For now, he decided, he’d admire you from afar, letting his feelings settle and hoping that one day, he’d find the courage to tell you.

Because love, he realized, was worth waiting for.

[lastoneout]

Hey so uh y'all know this is straight up radfem rhetoric that will do fuck all to actually combat the rise of fascism in this country while putting young people further at risk of being indoctrinated into conservatisim, right? Like this is 100% the basis of political lesbianism and is a direct pipeline to becoming a fucking TERF which is a direct pipeline to holding hands with Nazis, we should NOT be supporting or promoting the idea that the only way for women to be safe is to completely isolate themselves from men, especially in the coming years where unity with our allies, a group which includes men, will be the key to survival for so many people. The state of the world right now is based in part on the rampant spread of individualism and exclusion and distrust, why the hell would perpetuating that help??

Also this alienates women who cannot or will not abandon their connections to men(wanting to marry and love and have sex and children with men is morally neutral) and strips us of our ability to find allyship with marginalized men who are on our side and also will face extreme violence under this new administration. This will cut us off from black men and disabled men and intersex men and queer men and will absolutely be used as justification to completely fucking abandon trans men, who have already been completely abandoned by current mainstream feminism to the point that I cannot go five seconds without someone saying reproductive rights are an issue that only affects women when that is in NO way the case. Basically no one has been including trans mascs/men, nonbinary people, and intersex people in the abortion and birth control discussion this election cycle despite those groups needing just as much help and support on this front and that is a PROBLEM. Like trans men and intersex people who can get pregnant are going to be at a hellish level of risk going forward, infinitely more so than the average cishet perisex woman. We cannot abandon them further.

Plus for some of us marriage will potentially keep us safer or help us escape this country should we need to, I'm disabled and can't work I cannot just move to another country, but if I get married and my fiancé goes first and finds a job that can support us both that will help me. And like you can also get married to a man and still refuse to have kids in protest? Most of the people in our generation aren't having kids anyway? And tbh those of us who want to are not bad people nor should we have to put our entire lives on hold for god knows how long to stick it to the men. We live in hell right now, why the fuck should we be asking people to completely abandon things that could make them happy in a weird form of protest that won't work and is a gateway to being a raging Nazi transphobe??

And on top of all of that this also lets the hundreds of thousands of women who voted for Trump on purpose because they too have bought in to his rhetoric off the hook, which again, is where radical feminism leads because it is fundamentally based on the idea that men are always dangerous and harmful no matter what but women are always innocent brainwashed victims who can do no harm. And writing off men as a lost cause who are evil by nature and thus cannot be saved is also not only radical feminist bullshit, it's legit just conservative "boys will be boys" bullshit with a progressive hat. I am not giving shitty men a free pass to suck forever by pretending they are incapable of change, they can, should, and MUST be held to a higher standard. That is what I mean when I say radical feminisim is a conservative ideology, it doesn't believe a better world is possible because it assumes men will always be evil and should be avoided at all costs which upholds the status quo, it does nothing to actually challenge it.

(And hell, if all that wasn't enough, this is also flawed because the kinds of women who are left leaning enough to consider doing something like this likely already only associate with progressive men, so who are we even punishing here? No woman riding the tradwife MAGA waterslide is going to do this, so the only men who get punished are the good ones who are on our side, which helps who, exactly?? Like christ y'all this falls the fuck apart so fast the second you actually think about it.)

There are men who will be my allies in the coming years and women who will be my enemy. Women are just as capable of being bigoted fascist pieces of shit as men are, this election proved that. We waited for women to save us and most of them fucking didn't. How the hell am I supposed to believe women are inherently safer or better while looking at the breakdown of what demographics voted for Trump. Some of the most vile, traumatizing misogyny and biphobia I have faced in my life was at the hands of other women and some of the most outspoken feminists who work tirelessly to tear apart the patriarchy I know are men. My fiancé, a cis man, legit checked MY toxic masculinity yesterday, I recently came out as butch and have been trying to live up to that by staying as strong as possible right now, and HE had to tell me to knock it off and let myself cry. Gender and sex are not indicators of morality and acting like they are is pure, unadulterated radical feminist bullshit.

We can and should absolutely talk about the rise of alt-right beliefs amongst men in this country, especially young men, but we cannot ignore that young women are buying into that shit too and a lot of it is COMING FROM RADICAL FEMINISTS, I cannot fucking stress enough radical feminism is a direct pipeline to becoming a conservative, the TERF to tadwife waterslide is real and likely WHY so many young women are voting conservatively. The more we concede to this rancid bullshit the more women wander directly into the alt-right's open arms.

The problem isn't men, it's systemic misogyny perpetuated by both men AND women, and also fascism. Don't lose sight of the true enemy.

[merrybloomwrites]

Good Girl

Summary: You love how sweet and kind and soft your boyfriend his. But every now and then, you love to bring out his rough side, which always leaves you more than satisfied.

Word Count: 1.7K

Content Warning: cockwarming, p-in-v sex, daddy kink, spanking (just 1 tho)

AN: I was going to do a Louis smut and a Niall comfort fic and then said, nah, I gotta switch that. So enjoy this pure Niall smut!

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Waking up in your plush king bed, you stretch before rolling over to cuddle up to your boyfriend. 

So you’re most upset when you find that Niall is not there. 

Last night had been perfect. He’d gotten home early, the two of you cooked a delicious meal together before falling into bed for a night of slow and gentle lovemaking.

So it’s no surprise that you wake up wanting more. Maybe a little something less slow and gentle. Like being pounded into the bed. That sounds like a wonderful time. You’d love some passionate and rough sex right about now. 

The only thing missing? Your boyfriend.

Huffing out a breath you throw the sheets aside and stand up. You’re just in one of Niall’s large t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, but you don’t change before going downstairs. Maybe appearing like this will help you get what you want.

But Niall isn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, or anywhere on the first or second floors. Which leaves the basement. More specifically, the studio/office that’s down there. 

And that, well that could throw a wrench in your plans. Because if Niall is in work mode, you don’t have much of a chance breaking him out of it. But you don’t let that deter you.

Heading back to the kitchen you start to make a plan. You grab some breakfast then go to the bathroom to freshen up before finally heading down to the basement. 

Peaking your head into the office, you’re not surprised to see Niall at the desk. He seems to be answering emails, which works in your favor. If he’d been working on new music you’d probably be out of luck. He just gets too focused, and truthfully, the guitar would be quite in the way.

But sitting at the desk writing replies? That you can work with. 

“Good morning,” you say as you enter, letting Niall know you’re there.

Immediately he turns, a large smile on his face as he says, “Morning, baby. Sleep okay?”

“I did. Could’ve woken up better, though.” You pout, giving Niall your best puppy eyes to really catch his attention.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he asks, now sporting a pout of his own.

“I woke up and you weren't there.”

His joking pout now turns into a gentle smile as he reaches out to you. “C’mere,” he says and pulls you to sit in his lap sideways. His arms wrap around your waist and you rest your head on his shoulder, your face tucked into his neck.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I ignored these emails last night to get home to you but I can’t put them off any longer. I promise to come cuddle you as soon as I’m done,” he explains. 

When you don’t reply right away Niall grows worried, unsure what’s going on in your mind. After some silence you finally say, “What if I didn’t want to cuddle?”

“Oh? Then what did you have in mind?”

Without hesitating you press a kiss to his neck and roll your hips down.

“Oh!” He says, now picking up on what you want. “Naughty girl, coming in here to distract me.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” You lean back as you say this, your eyes meeting his, your eyebrows raised, challenging him. 

“Yea, maybe I will. Bad girls deserve a punishment. But what should I do with you?” He pretends to think about it, already knowing what he wants. But he likes making you squirm, just a bit. 

“You’ve caused me a bit of a problem,” he finally says. You look at him confused but then his hands go to your waist and he presses you down. You gasp as you feel his hard length press against your bum. “This will be quite distracting. I’d like you to keep me warm while I finish my work. How does that sound?”

A wave of desire rolls through you at that. He knows how much you love cockwarming, but it’s rare that the two of you do it. Normally once he’s inside of you, neither of you can hold back. But this is the perfect opportunity. 

“That sounds like exactly what I need to learn my lesson,” you manage to reply. 

“Good. Get me out and take off those pants,” he says. You stand up and remove the boxers you’re wearing and then your hands go to his waistband. You look at him for a second, waiting for a nod before lowering his sweats and underwear just enough for his cock to spring out. Just the sight of his dick, the perfect length and girth, has you dripping.

“Go on. Keep me warm,” he commands, and you move to straddle his lap. His hands stay on the armrests as you line yourself up and slowly sink down. His expression remains stoic, not giving away if he’s enjoying this at all. It drives you crazy, this uninterested act. It’s so unlike Niall, the man who normally praises you at all times. But it’s so perfect for this moment. 

The shuddering breath he lets out once you’re completely seated on him is the only give away that he’s affected at all. He slides his chair forward and reaches around you to get back to his work. The only sound in the room is the tapping of keys.

You do your best to stay still, but the longer he works, the harder it is. You fidget, then clench around him, causing him to groan. He then lands a smack to your asscheek and says, “Be good and don’t move.”

Not wanting another reprimand you put all your focus on listening to him. But it’s so hard! He just feels so wonderful, filling you up so perfectly. 

After what feels like forever, he stops typing and pushes the chair back from the desk. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you move from where you’ve been hiding against his neck in order to meet his eyes once more. “Think you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply. Niall takes a deep breath, that name affecting him deeply. It’s not one you use much, but he knows what it means. It means you want him to take charge, to take what he wants. You just want to give yourself to him. 

“Hold on tight,” he says and you wrap your arms and legs around him. He places his hands under your bare bottom and, in an impressive show of strength, stands up with you still attached to him. He walks a few steps to the couch and lays you both down. 

“Ready for a reward?” he asks, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

“I’m ready,” you reply. He quickly leans down, attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. When he pulls back his eyes are soft, and he says, “If it’s too much just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. After this moment of softness, you watch his switch back to the rough persona he’s using right now. And it has another wave of arousal run through you. Niall's eyes close in pleasure, and you know he’s just felt a gush of wetness escape around his cock. That’s all he needs to start moving, setting a brutal pace from the first thrust.

He pounds in and out of you, hitting just the right spot and sending shocks through your body. Your mouth goes slack, your mind unable to form any words as pleasure continues to grow. 

You’re both getting close, and Niall moves a hand to rub circles on your clit. He knows when you’re just about to come, and he leans down to say, “Be a good girl and come for me. Come for daddy.”

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge. You shout and arch your back, your toes curling as intense pleasure overtakes you. 

“What a good girl, that’s it, ride it out, baby,” Niall says as she continues his thrusts inside you. It’s just when you start to come down that Niall picks up his pace even more, chasing his own high. The rough thrusts send you into a second orgasm before you’ve even recovered from the first, and this time, Niall is coming with you. 

He bits down gently on your shoulder as he releases inside of you, his hips finally slowing. The two of you lay there a moment, breathing in each other's air as you try to catch your breath.

“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” Niall asks, back to his sweet personality. 

“Okay,” you reply quietly. You hiss as he pulls out, extra sensitive after everything that just happened.

“I know, baby, it hurts a bit, doesn’t it? I’m sorry lovie,” he says, and somehow just those words help ease the pain.

You finally come back to reality and look at the state of the two of you. Niall is still basically dressed and he tucks his now soft cock back into his sweats. He helps you pull down the shirt you’re wearing so that you’re covered as well, knowing how shy you get after. 

“You alright?” he asks.

You give him a dazed smile and say, “So good. That was exactly what I needed. Did you like it?”

“Like it? Honey, I loved it. Absolutely amazing, you are.” You giggle and he leans in for a sweet kiss. 

“C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up and then we can watch a movie together. It’s time for those cuddles I mentioned.” 

Niall helps you stand and walk upstairs. He dotes on you, carefully helping you clean up in the shower and then keeps his promise of cuddles. You’re back in his arms, now resting together on a different couch while one of your favorite movies plays. 

“I love you,” you say, needing him to know what you’re thinking right now.

“I love you too,” he replies.He holds you tighter and presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you melt into the embrace. You truly love him, love every side of him, especially the sides that are reserved only for you. His girlfriend, his love, his good girl.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I have a request for virgin reader & fratboy Niall so I am working on that but if you have any Niall requests feel free to reach out!

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

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