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crumbledcastle28 · 2 years ago

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Miguel O'Hara: Theory of Everything

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!spider-girl!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: After everything went wrong, Miguel didn't know what he needed. Luckily, you always seem to.

Excerpt: "So, as your final effort, you gently grabbed his chin with your pointer finger and thumb, and kissed him softly.

His breath was coffee and cinnamon, with a hint of sleep. His lips were chapped and bitten. His touch on your waist remained tender, but slightly hesitant.

You kissed him in a way that let him know you didn't care. You didn't care if he pushed you away, stood there awkwardly, or responded in full. He had the reigns. He was captain of this ship, and you were the wind, beckoned to his call.

Luckily for you, he responded exactly how you wanted him to."

Warnings: off canon (hehe), making out, lots of touching, swearing, my attempt at being witty, my attempt at spanish (please tell me if something is wrong), unestablished relationship, suggestive ending, Miguel is angsty but reader is there to catch him.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I know I'm late to the party, but my god this man has been messing with me in the best way possible. I just can't help myself. I really hope this is good. I'm really nervous.

A/N 2: This post is dedicated to @luveline @liliacamethyst and @bookworm551 who are incredible writers and (unconsciously) inspired me to do this in the first place. Thank you all :)

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be very much appreciated <3

Marvel Masterlist

(gif credit to pinterest)

You had known Miguel long enough to know that, despite their expansive nature, his shoulders should not have been that high. Nor should his back have been that clenched, or his jaw so firm you could see the muscles in his temple poking out even from behind.

He was a ticking time bomb, a bridge near collapse, a puppy dangling so far off the end of a roof that with one wrong move, he would plumet so fast and hard there would be no return. Your only choice would be to bare the explosion.

Luckily for you, you strutted around the Spider Society with the rarest metaphorical badge of all, reading in bold, roquen lettering, "Has diffused Miguel O'Hara more times than she can count."

You had webbed up to his risen lab with subtlety, making so little noise as you landed all you could hear was your heartbeat and the beeping of his monitors moving in sync. You stood tall, breathing slowly, and adjusted to your surroundings. You weren't scared of him - he had never given you a reason to be - you were only scared that, no matter what you said to him, it wouldn't be enough to bring him ashore.

So, as you crept up behind him like a trainer to a docile lion, you resorted to the thing all Spider-Men (and women) knew best.

"How is it that you can hear Peter B mutter under his breath, but not me landing on your precious platform?"

His shoulders deflated - not completely, but a little. He took a beat to respond to you.

"I heard you," he responded in his indelible, bone-sinkingly luxurious voice. It sometimes frightened you how un-recreatable it was in your mind as you attempted to drift into sleep every night. You could only experience its true ferociousness in person.

You stepped closer to him. "Your shoulders being on the brink of dislocation say otherwise."

He chuckled, his shoulders now sinking down to his true stature. "Who says I'm not tense because I heard you."

You finally made your way next to him, leaning onto his lab table, mimicking his stance. "Aw, I still make you nervous?"

He brought his lips together, ravaging his brain for something - some "mean," sarcastic retort, or even an insult, anything to counter your flippant tongue- but his lips settled into a grin.

"You win," he said as he sighed, and you pumped the air in victory.

Level 1 of diffusion, complete.

The two of you stayed like that for several moments, leaning onto his desk in matching posture, eyes glued to the screens in front of you. From your time at the Spider Society, you had some proficiency on what you were looking at - which cameras went to which universe, which member was where, which planets were safe from anomalies, disrupted canon events, etc. However, there were several sections of pure equations, units, variables, and expressions that made your mind begin to melt out of your ears.

You blew a raspberry, rocking back and forth on your heels. "Well, this is...fun. Standing here, hunched over, staring at screens..."

He exhaled, standing up straight.

"...I think that screen may even have a bit of orange in it..."

He began rubbing at his eyes through his mask, and you turned to look at him. His stature remained liberal, but even through his mask, you could see that his eyebrows were inhumanely close together.

You continued looking at him, tone shifting to softness, as you said, "Miguel."

He knew what you wanted. He just didn't want to give it to you.

"Please Miguel."

His willfulness always seemed to erode once that word left your mouth. He complied, commanding his mask to reveal his face, and his deep brown eyes met yours.

Your hand immediately cupped his jaw, tracing his skin with your fingers. It was sticky with sweat, and maybe even tears. His eyes closed instantly, and his head followed your hand, leaning into your touch so dependently that it was entirely your arm strength that was keeping his head risen.

You felt him for some time, allowing him to disappear into it for a few moments, before whispering, "What happened?"

His eyebrows came together at your words. You worried you ruined it all, his vulnerability and miniscule opportunities for tranquility slipped through your fingers by your own accord, but he just needed time.

He exhaled once again after a beat, kissing the palm of your hand still resting on his cheek, and explained as best as he could. His voice was drained and decrepit, his hands at one point found our waist, bringing you closer to him, and his eyes stayed shut through every word.

You nodded along as he spoke, and once he finished, you brought your other hand to his face and smoothed the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb.

"So that's why HQ was empty when I came back," you said, and he nodded.

You had been out on a mission during what Miguel called the "disaster" that came along after Miles Morales was invited to HQ. You had known he was an anomaly, and that Miguel had been growing increasingly perturbed by the situation, but you had hoped to have been around when it all came to a head.

In retrospect, maybe it was best that you weren't.

"And now," Miguel continued, finally opening his eyes to meet your gaze. They were so...dull. Hopeless. "This kid is hiding somewhere in the universe, and I have to get him before he disrupts his own father's death, which would kill everybody else in his universe anyway."

You, frankly, had no fucking idea what to say. He could tell, and he chuckled, looking down at his feet.

"I think you've made it to the 'everything is funny because nothing is' stage," you said, smiling, hoping to God he was back in the mood for teasing.

"I think you're right," he said, still chuckling, and brought a hand up to your own face. "Our team is headed out in the morning, if you...if you'd like to join us."

You nodded instantly, eagerly, tenderly. "Yes. I'll be there."

He knew you would. No matter what he did, you never seemed to leave.

The flirtation was short lived. He inhaled sharply, returning back to his reclusiveness. "We'll search wherever we think he might have gone, starting at his home world, but after that..."

You brought his eyes back to yours. "One thing at a time. Earth-1610 first, then we worry about after that."

He nodded. Sometimes, he took your attempts at talking him down as lectures, or patronizing. Like you were explaining something to him that he knew better than anyone else in the universe. A phenomenon Hobie ironically named "Miguelling." And you never blamed him when he did take it that way. This time, however, it seemed to work.

He retained relaxation in his body, but you could tell he was having a hard time keeping his brain where his feet were. His eyes were glazed, and his head was wobbly. You were losing him in a sea of "what ifs," "buts," and endless worst-case scenarios.

So, you resorted to your final card to pull. Your last string to tug. The timer on his bomb was ticking again, and you had to do something.

So, as your final effort, you gently grabbed his chin with your pointer finger and thumb, and kissed him softly.

His breath was coffee and cinnamon, with a hint of sleep. His lips were chapped and bitten. His touch on your waist remained tender, but slightly hesitant.

Luckily for you, he responded exactly how you wanted him to.

His grip on you slowly tightened, pulling you close enough that you needed to move your palms to his chest to steady yourself, and his lips began to mold against yours. He was lazy with it, kissing you back on his own time, and your toes curled at the feeling of it. He nipped at your lip suddenly, causing you to wonder if he was even aware of what he was doing, or if he had completely escaped the penitentiary that was his mind. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan.

Turns out, he knew exactly what he was doing, and took the noise as an invitation. He lifted you into the air, causing your eyes to widen, but he moved you like you weighed less than nothing. He kept your lips connected as he set you down on the table, clearing away his array of things with one arm as he did - a modge podge of wrappers, half full coffee mugs, pens, pencils, mouse pads, and cafeteria plates. Your thighs bounced as he set you down, his large hands slowly making their way to the zipper on the back of your suit, and your hands slipped around his neck.

"Muñeca (doll)," he whispered against your lips, unable to stop himself. This was your favorite secret you had about Miguel O'Hara - with one kiss, his mask of authoritarianism and general demeanor of not giving a fuck dissipated. He was an open book, and untamable tongue.

And his faced always bloomed fiercely with scarlet after the haze of your touch on him wore off.

His fingers found your zipper, slowly beginning to pull down. His nails against the skin of your back caused you to gasp, rubbing yourself onto his crotch unconsciously. He practically growled, moving his mouth right underneath your jawline, grazing his fangs over the sensitive area. Your eyes fluttered, and your right hand moved to the desk, gripping it tightly.

"You like that?" he said in reply, smiling against your skin. You scoffed, the heat in your belly from his fangs, his touch, his crotch pressed so close to your own you could feel the shape of him making all calculation of possible retorts inside your brain come to a screaming halt.

You made it work.

"You're the one feeling me up," you said through your erratic breathing. His fingers began pulling your suit off of you, his callused hands finally finding their way underneath it and onto the skin of your breasts, fitting them into his palms. This made you exhale shakily, gripping onto his forearm, and heat coming into your cheeks.

He took his shot.

"Ah, corazón (sweetheart)," he said, so fucking cockily it made you want to scream with relief.

He was out of his head. He was out from the past, out from tomorrow, out of it all. He was right here with you. Nowhere else. You didn't care that he was winning (this round) of your constant, bloody battle of wit, he was free of it all. You smiled, hiding it into the crook of his neck. He laughed.

"Aw, I still make you nervous?" he said, and you rolled your eyes at the callback. "Even when I have my hands around these perky, perfect -"

CLANG CLANG CLANG

"Yo, Miguel!" came a voice from below, echoing above and around you.

Instead of jumping away from you, Miguel covered you - all of you - with his body, shielding you completely. If a person were to walk up behind him, or look at him from below, they would see his body curved over something, as if he was protecting it. He held your head into his chest, left hand on the back of your neck, right hand in the middle of your bare back. His breathing was quick, but not panicked. More so startled.

Yours, however, was panicked.

"Ye-yeah?" Miguel questioned. His voice was loud, yet shaken.

You thanked God his platform was still raised in the air.

"I finished that spider-bot you wanted, for tomorrow," said the voice. You calmed your breathing down enough to listen to the tone and depth of it more clearly. It took you half a second to identify Jess as the owner of it.

She must have been beating a wrench - or some other kind of instrument - against the wall.

There was an awkward silence, your head still pressed into Miguel's chest, his arms completely around you, your head moving up and down with his chest as it heaved. Both Miguel and Jess seemed to be waiting for the other to fill the air.

"...would you like to see it?" Jess asked, confusion with a sprinkle of annoyance laced into her voice. Miguel cleared his throat.

"N-no, that's alright. I'll see it in the morning," he said, his voice clearer and more confident. "Why don't you head on home."

Jess scoffed. "Alright," she said, "if you say so."

"I'll see you at dawn," Miguel said, and you saw the silhouette of Jess making its way out of the room, saluting as she went.

"Yes, sir," she said, and exited, the door closing behind her.

You and Miguel sat in silence for at least thirty seconds - allowing your breathing to even, hearts to steady, and brains to exit fight-or-flight mode. Finally, you pulled away from his chest, looking him in the eye.

"Tell me she didn't know I was here," you said, still slightly panic-stricken. Miguel smiled.

"She didn't know you were here," he said without a hint of indecision. "Believe me, if she did, she would have reveled in making fun of me for it."

You nodded, exhaling in consolation. You shook your head, eyes closed. "Good, because I would never be able to look her in the ey-"

You are interrupted by Miguel practically shoving his tongue down your throat. You took a second to return the pressure - head whirling with too much serotonin and dopamine to allow you an adequate response time - but once you did, he pulled away, grinning like a cat.

"Wh-" you started, unable to not replicate his infectious smile. "What the hell was that?"

He then smiled widely, and sat between the top and bottom of his two front teeth, was a bone white, circular, wintergreen altoid. He moved it into his mouth, eyes glowing with an emotion you couldn't quite place. Your eyes widened, your throat began to close, and your whole body heated.

He looked at you with such arrogance, such smugness, such genuine joy, as he said, "Did you put a mint in your mouth before you came to see me?"

You looked like a deer caught in headlights, a thief stopped in the middle of a crime, and yet, you had a smile on your face. You responded slowly. "...no."

He practically guffawed, all of his pearly white teeth open for you, and you laughed with him, head buried in your hands. "Had some idea of where our conversation was going, did you?"

You shook my head, face still hidden in the sand. You said through your hands, voice muffled. "I thought it would melt in time.”

He continued projecting his boisterous, beautiful laugh throughout the room as he removed your hands from your face, and gave you a look you would never forget. His eyes bright, his smile wider than you had seen it in weeks, nose and cheeks reddened, tears in his eyes. It was pure. It was undiluted, in a way that was almost childish. It was him - truly Miguel. Something you hypothesized you were the only one in the entire universe who had gotten to see it in a very long time.

He kissed you - his cinnamon coffee breath now mixed with your wintergreen altoid - and didn't hold back. His tongue caressing yours, hands entangled in your hair, body so close to yours you could feel every inch of his heat against you. You were surrounded, encompassed, embraced fully by him, and you had a feeling you were there to stay.

It was in that moment that you decided that, no matter what happened the following morning, you were prepared. Because the universe already made sense. Your theory of everything was kissing you, holding you in his arms, comfortable enough to share a laugh with you, while the rest of the world was falling apart.

You heard the thwip of his webs as they shot across the room, and he pulled a chair behind him, his mouth never once leaving yours as he did so. He pulled you into his arms and sat you onto his lap before sitting down himself, not worried about the fate of the multiverse; rather, the fate of the woman in his arms.

It was safe to say the two of you began the hunt for Miles Morales puffy eyed, nearly overdosing on caffeine, and sore, but with matching smiles underneath your masks.

Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@leahkenobi

#miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #marvel fanfiction #oscar isaac fic

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asksoldieron · 2 months ago

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S0-33: Oops, We Did a Cielois.

If there's a lot of engagement on this, this post is liable to get real long, beware before you expand.

More art to come, I hope, but that's where they are and where they're headed!

Welcome to the Engagement Lounge, for Welcome to Farsia (262|33) an instalment! Short comments can go in the replies, but there's a 475 character limit. Longer ones will need a reblog. Remember to @asksoldieron if you're reblogging someone else's reblog, so I can see it too!

Oooh, we got a lot of goodies for this one. Look! I edited the map for you! And now let me deal with the obscure reference!

I like Black Butler, even the second anime season, and I don't mean the ship, I mean THIS:

Heh. Decisions were made. But, what happened there, because reasons, is a demon took two people with similar experiences and scrambled them together for a snack.

Mordecai has just accidentally scrambled Erik's experience of being sicker than a dog in a bathtub with ice (see here) and his memory of Alba's experience (see here). And now Erik has no idea he almost died calling gods. They aren't in contact with the Rainbows and they don't have John's notes. David sure ain't gonna tell 'em. This little misunderstanding is not going to get cleared up for quite some time! But I'm sure it'll be fine.

And we got a little musical scene! I'm parodying The Music Man. Harold Hill arrives in Iowa and is perfectly nice to everyone, but they're not nice to him. Maggie arrives in Zadrakarta and does the opposite. I quit embedding YouTube at the site due to ads - those are a real mood-killer, but I'll embed the reference here.

youtube

If you want the melody to sing, there it is. If you want the whole movie (and you should!) it's on Archive.org at the moment!

Maggie's gone a bit Soap Box Sadie and made some people uncomfortable without doing much to improve the general situation. Given that she's sided firmly with Zanzamin, I can't expect her to keep a lid on it, but going off on a low-level idiot doing his job only scares him and frustrates you. Not unlike her mother screaming at everyone who thinks a solitary lady in glasses could use some help with her bags.

But she helped me with the world-building! Yay! There's more than one way to deal with a magic storm, and this isn't the only one we're going to see on this trip. I really hope it's not a frustrating, exposition-heavy diversion from the plot you're expecting. I'm trying to keep it fun! I was hoping to get them home faster than this, but there are one or two things they need to do outside of San Rosille. I think they'll be home by the end of Volume 14. I hope. I have no idea how long it's gonna take to write and put it up, but I'm aiming for two more six-packs on the road and then HOME.

I updated the Setting page for Farsia, and they'll only be there for 2 instalments, so grab that now while it's relevant! (And I'll probably post it on the main blog. I'm proud of myself.) Farsia would love to get involved in that nasty business in Prokovia, and vacuum up ALL the refugees, but they'd need evidence and Erik's little group has none. For now.

Erik will be taking care of some significant (I swear!) business in the next one, which is going up near his birthday and mine - although it's springtime in Zadrakarta. Then it's off to Zanzamin! Farsia's fun but we have a lot more to do in Zanzamin! Have a happy holiday and I'll see you there!

#tin soldier and soldier on #instalment #engagement lounge #Youtube

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letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse · 11 months ago

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<<Previous Chapter <<

**Masterlist**

>>Next Chapter>>

Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: And there was only one bed...

A/N: It's me, hi. You know, this chapter was both interesting and difficult to write. I found myself doubting my storytelling abilities, so I genuinely hope that it lives up to the standard of the previous instalments. Please, when you're liking and reblogging these chapters, feel free to comment. It's nice to see people interacting and reacting to my work. It also helps me to know what people are enjoying, so I can tailor my writing, if necessary. Okay, bye now.

Content Warning: Knives, mention of injuries, trauma, hallucinations, mention of drowning and death. I think that's everything. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

=============================

Sleep was for the weak, and let's just say, you were indeed weak, but as luck may have it, good fortune was not on your side. Despite yours and Izzy's argument about who would take up residence in his bed for the night, the conversation had been for nought, as the suggestion to just share the damn space died upon your tongue, when the first call to attention echoed down the timber halls of the Revenge.

"We're taking water!" you heard Fang's distinctive cry.

"Shit." the silver-haired pirate hissed in annoyance beside you, already making a move to grab his discarded waistcoat and boot.

"That's bad, right?" you asked, nerves rising. You had not experienced a storm of this severity whilst at sea. You certainly had not been on a ship that was taking water. The prospect of the Revenge sinking, twisted your gut into anxious knots. Sure, you could swim but for how long? Even if you did manage to keep a float until the storm passed, how long could you keep your head above water before another ship passed and picked you up? No, correction, if they picked you up.

"'Bad' is a fucking understatement." Izzy all but laughed humourlessly. Not meaning to sound so mocking. Of course you were scared, what normal person would not be fearful of their poor odds of survival? After living a majority of his life at sea, Izzy had grown numb to the liklihood of drowning. He accepted that as a pirate, your days were numbered. Lower even than those who dwelled on land but that was the profession fate had chosen for him. Why fight the inevitable? Despite his grim acceptance, he wanted to pause and comfort you. To lie and say it would be okay. Maybe even pull you into a fleeting kiss, since it seemed unlikely you would all live to see another sunrise. He would have nothing to lose, with the only gain being finally learning just how sweet you tasted.

"Told you Poseiden hates us." your attempt at humour was admirable but the evident shake in your voice caused the delivery to fall flat.

Gods, he adored you. Even when terrified, there was something so disarmingly charming about your personality. "Stay here." Izzy commanded, knowing you were likely to follow him to the deck. As much as your skills would undoubtedly be an asset to the team members already battling against the elements, the mere thought that something horrendous could happen to you, had the First Mate devising a plan to keep you in the hold.

"What, no!" you protested, confused as to why the pirate would want you to stay away from the main deck. Sure, you might not have been as seasoned a pirate as Ed or Fang but you still knew enough to be of use. "You're going to need all competent hands on deck. You said so yourself earlier."

"That's why I need you down here." that's why I need you out of harms way, he thought internally. "Edward's gonna be out on the deck with Bonnet."

"Yeah, so?" you frowned, not quite understanding the trajectory of his point. Where else were the captains going to be, sequestered away in their cabin while everyone risked their life to keep the Revenge sailing? A unlikely story.

"Some of the crew aren't going handle that too well." hell, he was not handling it well but someone had to take charge and consider the wellbeing of the misfit crew. While he himself could not provide them with any actual support, you- oh goodness- you could tame ever the wildest of beasts into submission with your freely given smiles and affections. You had unlocked something long dormant within the silver-haired pirate. Something he assumed he had lost forever in exchange for his reputation and legend.

"Why wouldn't..." then it clicked. You faltered in your questioning, as your mind connected the sickening dots. "Shit, the storm."

"And with Edward at the wheel, it'll be too much for them." For them, he thought bitterly, as if his own mind was not trying to coax him into a state of remembrance. Fuck it, any unwanted flashbacks to that tragic night, all those many moons ago, would just have to haunt him in whatever realm lay beyond this mortal life. Izzy did not have time to focus on his own pain. When did he ever? That being said, each boom of thunder was starting to sound eerily like the shot of a gun.

"What about you?" you implored, knowing that Izzy rarely focused on his own thoughts and feelings. While such a practice made him a ruthless pirate, there was no denying that such strength took a heavy toll on his mental and physical wellbeing.

At the sound of your question and the saddened look upon your features, the First Mate yearned to lie in your arms and have you comfort him in that tender way of yours, that made his knees weak. He had observed time and time again, you whispering sweet nothing to a trembling Frenchie or carefully hold Archie's hand when things got a little too overwhelming. Izzy knew what you were capable of and he wanted to experience it too.

"Fuck off worrying about me. I'm First Mate, my feelings come second to the survival of everyone on this fucking ship, got that?" and there it was, the titular reason you had fallen completely head over heels for one Israel Hands. Too stubborn for his own good. Despite his 'I don't give a fuck' attitude, it was painfully obvious that he did care. He cared so fucking much, to the point it hurt. Figuratively and literally. Whether it was taking a blade on someone's behalf or protecting the crew in the middle of a storm- Izzy's would do anything to keep the crew safe.

Upon recognising this, you realised you would do anything for that man. If he asked you to jump, you would say, 'how high?' His loyalty to others ran deep but yours for him, well, it burned brighter than the hottested of fires. Once a spark, was now a full on flame- all consuming and enveloping every fibre of your very being. You were not just devoted to Izzy, you were a fucking acolyte, ready to fall to your knees and give him whatever he wished to take. "What do you need from me?"

"To stay down here." where I know you'll be safe. Safer. He corrected himself. There was no real 'safe' when it came to a storm of this severity. "Help anyone who needs it. Keep 'em calm and keep 'em below deck. Understood?"

With a nod, you agreed. A small smile played on your lips, as you responded with a familiar, "Yes, boss."

"Can you get to the rec room?"

"I'll manage."

And with a solemn nod, he moved to make his way down the hallway, proceeding as quickly as he could, given the violent swaying of the ship. The unmistakable lump in his throat made it difficult to breathe. Whatever conflicting emotions he was feeling, Izzy needed to push them down- deep down- into the recesses of his very being and focus on the predicament in hand. Though he was pessimistic about the outcome of the night, if there was even a sliver of hope that the crew would all live to witness another day, then he would do everything in his power to ensure you felt the sun grace you skin once more.

Hey, Izzy!" you call made him freeze in place. He had only moved a few few feet away. Had something awful already befelled you in the soace of 20 seconds? He turned with a frown painted on his face. There was still so much left unsaid between you both, that you wished to confess in that moment. Three little words dancing upon your tongue, as they clawed passed the barrier of your lips, demanding the silver-haired pirate's attention. "Please be careful."

"I promise." his vow still echoed in your thoughts for tens of minutes later, when you were finally alone.

It was now your turn to make yourself useful. With Izzy busy helping his captains, you needed to make sure you remained true to your word. Half the crew were still traumatised by their time sailing with the Kraken. Izzy was right about one thing, your friends were going to need all the compassion and support you had to offer, in order to survive this storm. Although an buoyant and intact ship would probably help matters greatly too.

You had often boasted that, you knew the Revenge like the back of your own hand. Even blindfolded, you were sure you could navigate the halls with ease and still find yourself exactly were you needed to be. But during a storm as unforgiving as this one? You were having difficulties staying upright, let alone actually arriving at your chosen destination. With no Izzy to hold on to, you were on your own and praying you did not accidentally smack your head against any of the available surfaces.

So, when you caught sight of your fellow crewmate, Frenchie, exiting one room and disappearing into the storage hold, you were quick- well, as quick as you could manage- to follow him into a slightly cramped space. "Frenchie!" you greeted him, thankful to be out of the hallway. At least in here, there were crates you could grab onto to keep your balance. "Hey, Frenchie. What are you...doing..." whatever you had planned to say next, died upon your lips, as you caught sight of the serrated silver blade he gripped tightly in his first. "Frenchie, what...what's going on?"

You were regarded with wild eyes, as the man before you, saw ghosts of trauma past flicker in and out of existence. "H-He's gonna kill us."

The world around him was not his own. He was reliving the events of a time gone by and all you could do, was try and coax him back to the present. "Who, French? Hey, hey!" you gently turned his head, so that he faced you once more. Tears of frustration spilled down his cheeks in a steady cascade, which you were quick to wipe away. "Look at me." only when he finally met your gaze, did your offer him a sympathetic smile. Your heart ached to see your friend so distraught. So lost. Goodness knows he deserved better. "Hey, what's going on, love?"

"Blackbeard. He's planning to sink the ship with all of us on it." Frenchie murmured, almost allowing himself to lean into your touch.

It was moments like these that got him through each day. Rare instances where he could show vulnerability, without the fearsome gaze of his Captain watching his every move, threatening punishment to any outward display of softness. Izzy had dared to call the environment 'poisoned'. Izzy had paid with his leg. Maybe eventually, his life. Or had he already died? It was so difficult to think straight and remember, there were too many conflicting thoughts spinning around in Frenchie's head. His whole world felt as if it were off kilter or perhaps that was just the storm rocking the ship?

"French-"

"I saw him, he's at the wheel right now!"

"Sweetheart, that's not what's-"

In an instant, his hand reached out to hold onto you, to keep you in place. To keep you near. Safe. Yes, safe, that was it. He...he was going to keep you out of harm's way. Out of the reach of Blackbeard's wrath. Ivan was dead. Izzy, too. Out of everyone else on the ship, you were the softest by far. Too soft for your own good. You needed protecting. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna stop him. You don't have to worry, (y/n)."

"French, Frenchie. Hey," "Hey, listen to me. I know w-what it might look like but it's different this time. Ed's not trying to hurt us. He's steering the ship away from the storm. Stede's up there helping him right now." "Hey French, sweetheart. Why...why don't you give me the knife."

You were losing him or maybe he was already lost. It was too difficult to tell if any of your reassurances would actually reach your crewmate in his time of anguish. You felt like a failure, having promised Izzy to make sure everyone was okay and yet, in Frenchie's time of need, you were clueless on how to bring him back from the brink of insanity. "Frenchie, it's not safe for you to be walking around with a knife. You could slip and hurt yourself." the silver shone in the low light- dangerous and ready to inflict pain. You held no fear for yourself, knowing Frenchie would never dream of hurting you. Hell, he was so hellbent on ensuring your safety, he was willing to kill Ed. "Please, love. Please, give me the-"

The rest of the sentence never fell from your lips, as the remaining lights flickered out in an instant and you felt yourself careen forwards, as the boat threatened to tip onto it's side. Sending you, Frenchie and the knife, tumbling into the surrounding darkness. I'm sorry, Iz. You thought with finality, as your consciousness was snuffed out like the flame of a candle.

"PEEEEEETE!" it was unclear who the scream came from but the sentiment was all shared amongst the crew.

It was not just 'bad', Izzy thought bitterly, as any shred of hope within him withered and died, it was downright fucked. This was it, this must have been how it ended.

"Oh god, oh god. Man overboard! Man overboard!" Stede cried out, alerting all those top deck of the situation. Much to the man's credit, though he could be a bit of a shit Captain, in that moment he at least called everyone to act. Shouting instructions left, right and centre. If there was one Stede Bonnet succeeded in, it was caring about the life and safety of his crew. Of course, he knew what to do if one of them fell over the side of the ship. "Fang, Roach, get the rescue boat ready! We need to get someone in the water to fetch him." upon noticing some of the other pirates still too close to edge for his liking, the blonde was quick to reprimand them. "Everyone else, stay away from the railings! I can't risk having more men in the water."

Whilst Stede was one to preserve life, Ed was a little more reckless in his approach. Not one to sit around and wait for a rescue plan, he was already tying his hair from out of his face and unloading the knives and gun from upon his person. There was a chance he was going to need to swim and the extra weight of weapons would only cause him to sink. "I'm getting in the fishing boat."

"Like hell you are!" his partner reacted indignantly and with good reason. Moments like these called for strategy, not some whim-prone decision, made based purely on emotion rather than logic.

"Shockingly, I agree with Bonnet. Don't be a fucking hero, Edward!" Izzy could not tell if the nausea he was desperately trying to ignore was from the rocking of the ship or the fact he had a actually concured with Stede fucking Bonnet. Ed's reaction did not surprise the First Hand, he had played witness to his Captain's saviour complex on more than one occasion. Hell, him saving Bonnet after the twat had been stabbed, was definitely motivated by the same instinct, that drove him towards making such a rash decision now.

Of course, the two mens' protests fell upon deaf ears. Ed had made up his mind. This was not his first man overboard- probably would not be the last either- and he was co-captain, after all. Why should he not sacrifice himself for the life of his crew? "Buttons, take over from me!" he instructed, leaving his place at the wheel.

"Aye, aye, Captain, sir!"

Oh no, you don't, Stede cursed, refusing to let the great love of his life be so reckless. He could sense the guilt radiating off of Ed from a mile off. "Buttons, stay at your station." he barked, leaving no room for arguments from the mystic shipmate.

"Yes, Captain."

But why could Stede not see that he needed to do this? Ed thought, immediately picturing Lucius's face, when they told him the news that Pete was dead, that he had drowned because there were not enough hands on deck. The next question would be, where was everyone? And then, all eyes would immediately be directed towards Ed. It was his fault. It was always his fucking fault! If half the crew weren't so traumatised by his previous behaviour, then Pete..."No, Buttons-"

"I'll go."

And just like that, the bickering between the two lovers ceased in an instant. Thise two words echoed louder than any resounding crash of thunder. In that moment, Ed thought he felt his entire world shift off of it's axis. "Iz-"

While it was true that the two men had once shared a conplicated relationship that could not be conventionally defined, there was no denying that either had love for the other. It might not have been the same kind that Ed shared with Stede but it was present all the same. It was this exact love that fuelled Izzy's decision to go in place of his Captain. "Crew needs you, Edward. It's too risky."

Without Ed aboard the ship, the responsibility would fall upon Stede and Izzy's shoulders. With those kinds of odds, the crew of the Revenge would definitely be fucked. No one knew how to navigate a storm quite like Blackbeard and live to tell the tale.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, should anything happen to Ed, fucking Bonnet would be inconsolable. The twat had already experienced the stages of grief when Ed went to the gravy basket the first time around. No man should not have to go through that again so soon, even if it was the so called Gentleman Pirate.

Not that Izzy was doing this just for the benefit of his useless co-captain. With Ed still manning the ship, the crew would have a slightly higher chance of survival. You woukd have a chance of survival. If Izzy could not give you the kind of love and adoration you so deserved, then he would give you the opportunity to live and find that kind of companionship with someone worthy of your affections.

"Hello, is someone getting in the fecking boat or not, you've got a man drowning here, for fucks sake!" Wee John yelled, as the heaven's poured down upon them in a fit of unrestrained fury. It was getting increasingly more and more difficult to see the tumultuous waves below through the onslaught of rain.

"I am!" the First Mate returned the call, hellbent on remaining defiant until the end. "Say the order, Edward. Please. Don't fight me on this." he all but begged.

Oh, how Ed wanted to tell Izzy to 'fuck off', to curse the silver-haired pirate until his voice ran hoarse and even after that, curse him some more. How dare the First Mate be the voice of reason! How dare he...how dare he be right. "Go. Get on that fucking boat but you listen to me, First Mate Israel fucking Hands," if Izzy did not know better, he would have assumed Ed grabbing him by the lapels of his waistcoat, was a genuine threatening act but, that was just it, he did know better. He could see the fear reflected back at him in those terrified brown eyes. "I want you back on this boat in one piece, understood?" he hissed but there was no venom in his demands.

"Understood, Captain." he nodded before he was roughly pushed away.

The thudding sound of the door to the hold opening was completely lost amongst the cacophony of the surrounding chaos. It was only when Lucius called out to his Captain, that Stede noticed in horror, that the Scribe had abandoned his post. "Captain Bonnet!"

No, no, no! The blonde thought, abandoning Ed and Izzy's side, in favour of meeting the crewmate half way across the decking. The Scribe could not be up here! Not now! What if he were to notice Pete's missing presence or hear news about a man overboard, then what? Hysterics would ensue and that was the last thing the already struggling crew needed. Bless the young man's heart, he would be justified in his reaction but there was already so much going on, that needed everyone's full, uninterrupted attention. "Lucius, get back inside, now! It's too dangerous out here!"

"We need Roach, Captain! It's-"

With Stede dealing with the Scribe, the rest of the crew quickly got the fishing boat ready for it's latest voyage it the treacherous unknown. "Lower him down, lads!" the descent had begun. With one final nod of acknowledgement to his captain, Izzy readied himself of the recovery mission ahead. "Easy now!"

"Lucius, please. I need you to go back to the rec room. I can't risk..." but the unexpected sight of crimson perturbed the conscientious pirate, who was only wanting to protect Lucius's mental state in that moment. All thoughts of Pete beliw the waves, Izzy in that fragile fishing boat upon the turbulent waters, even the image of Ed willing to sacrifice his safety only moments ago, completely faded when Stede finally took in the Scribe's dishevelled state. The meaning behind the words finally fell into place. One of his crew was hurt. Badly enough that they needed the assistance of the cook/medic. "Who's blood is that?" the Captain's mind was already mentally ticking off names of those still below deck.

Jim, Archie, Oluwande, (y/n), Frenchie...

"There's been an accident in the storage area." was all that Lucius could managed to croak out. Fuck, there was so much blood and no matter what they did, it just kept spilling upon the wooden floors. The Scribe had slipped in it twice just trying to scramble towards the nearest exit. No doubt the quantity would have doubled by the time he actually managed to retrieve help.

There was no way the deck crew could spare a man, especially not with two already in the water. They needed all the help they could get, Stede rationalised. Roach woukd have to remain where he was, which coukd only have meant..."Ed!" the blonde called to his partner, not wishing to distract him for too long. The long-haired pirate momentarily tore his gaze away from the form of his First Mate, concerned that there was more trouble afoot upon the ship. Though his worry was well-placed, Stede did not want to add any more stress to the already life or death situation. "Stay up here with Buttons! There's something I need to check!" he instructed as vaguely as possible, hoping Ed would not question him too much.

Already, Blackbeard's suspiscions were heightened, glancing between the struggle taking place in the water and...wait, was that blood? He stood up in an instant, insticts screaming at him to not abandon his post and yet, how could he not? Someone else was hurt. He was no medic by any means but...but..."What's happened?!" he called back, booming voice nearly getting lost in another flare of thunder and lightning.

Who else was downstairs? He panicked, struggling to remember everyone's names. He was so much better with faces. Right, Archie, Lucius- no, Lucius was standing next to Stede. Swede? No, he was...where was he? Right, right repairing the mast rigging. Who did that leave?

As soon as Ed took that step forward, Stede knew he had to quickly intervene and implore his partner to remain at his post. The outside crew needed an adept leader, who knew how to deal with the sea's rage. Whatever was going on below deck, Stede was more than assured that he could handle it. Yes, he was no medic but he had been run through enough times to know how to perform a basic suture. "Just trust me, please?!"

And how could Ed disrgard sych a request, especially when Stede looked at him like that? That expression that begged him to implicitly trust the man he loved and ask questions later. "Always!"

And he did. He well and truly did. Ed would always trust Stede with every fibre of his being. Now and forever.

With the situation up top now being supervised by Ed, Stede returned his attention to the terrified young man. The Captain was sure the trembling was not just due to the icy wind and sheets of cool rain that pelted them from every direction. He was scared and that told Stede everything he needed to expect from the dilemma in the storage room. "Show me." he murmured, already leading Lucius towards the stairs.

=============================

A/N: Oh no! Someone below deck has been gravely injured, I wonder who it could be...I guess you'll just have to wait until Chapter 5 to find out. See you soon!

P.S. I know I said they were going to share a bed. I just didn't say when exactly that would happen. Maybe keep an eye out for Chapter 6.

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ryuryuryuyurboat · 1 year ago

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RIRI. i SPECIFICALLY said no lyney angst. ever. for as long as your tumblr shall live. the little pookie wookie cutie sunshine munchkin muffin bear is in love with us returns our love do you understand😡 for legal reasons and so that i dont get judged hard by the people behind me on the train this is purely a joke. but you know WHAT ISNT A JOKE RIRI IT'S MY HEART SHATTERING. absolutely unbelievable. i demand compensation. fluff where lyney accepts confession. and an apology letter. 500 words. (hugs u)

i hate that i know EXACTLY who you are. what's with the hug did you burn the kitchen down again– anyway, here's my apology. love u!

last kiss

synopsis: if you go, can i go with you? if you leave me, can i leave me too?

genre: angst. no comfort.

characters: wanderer x gn! reader

warnings: established relationship, reader referred to in 2nd pov, written from wanderer's pov, mentions of wanderer’s birth name, reader gets amnesia, wanderer a little ooc maybe

a/n: i spent so long writing and re-writing this i will actually cry if people don't like this (no pressure though) mwah :3 likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!! it helps a lot :>

masterlist

he remembers.

kunikuzushi remembers your first meeting, clear as day. the wonder in your irises as you reach out for his hand, the way you cupped his porcelain face in your hands, running your hands through his indigo locks. he remembers when he accidentally let his feelings slip, freezing up in fear of your reaction– he remembers your light laugh, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his forehead.

the balladeer remembers your disappointed look when he comes home to tell you he’s made his decision. you turn and go straight into the kitchen without another word, and the weight of silence has never been so heavy. and yet, as you set the table for dinner, you ask when the ship for snezhnaya will leave. he remembers all too well how you stopped right before boarding the ship, turned back to glare at him, and say your decision to follow him still didn’t mean you agreed with his. and when he fell from the shouki no kami after failing to replace lesser lord kusanali as sumeru’s god, he remembers you rushing forward to try and catch him in your arms to soften the impact.

the wanderer remembers those 2am walks to puspa café, pinkie linked with yours, because you craved some hot food and didn’t want it home-cooked. he remembers those cold nights with you– the rain’s symphony muffled in the background as you move in closer to embrace him tighter under the shared covers, him reluctantly humming you back to sleep.

he remembers that time you got abducted by fatui agents– any mere mortal would have gone insane from their cruel treatment, and yet, you became the one driving your abductors nuts. he found you with your back facing him as you wield your sword, your chest heaving as you take deep breaths. he remembers how he couldn’t help but let a tear slip as he runs forward to hold you tight, murmuring apologies into the crook of your neck, all the while wondering where you got that much strength from. and he remembers the way you turned around to embrace him, a rare fire in your eyes as you told him those words he wishes he could have imprinted on his skin: “i’m your heart after all, aren’t i? i can’t just go dying on you when you’re not ready to go!”

the wanderer still remembers that promise you once made at 1:58am in the morning, that sweet moment you both shared, the moon being the only witness to your soft declaration of love.

the wanderer remembers that fateful day he found you unconscious in a withering zone, your body bruised and battered— presumably from fighting enemies. he’s grumbling all the way home with you in his arms about how clumsy and bothersome you are, even as he gently cleans your face from the dirt. he refuses to leave your bedside for a single second in fear that you might awake all alone. but he was the one left all alone.

he hates it.

he hates that he remembers.

and you don’t.

he hates seeing that blank stare you give him as you tell him you have no idea what he’s harping on about. he hates that even after months and months of trying, even with lesser lord kusanali’s advice, you still remember nothing. he especially hates that apologetic smile you gave him as you tell him you don’t love him back. because you did. once. and you made a promise never to leave his side as long as your heart beat. once.

but you don’t remember, do you?

your explanation that you don’t want to continue leading him on because you just don’t feel the same completely shatters him. he has no right to force you to stay, either. not after everything you did for him. but he’s always been selfish, hasn’t he? so he asks you. he asks you for one last kiss so he can keep you in his fond memories. your eyes soften as you mutter an “oh, kuni.” (he insisted you stick to the name that always hung on your lips.) he tries not to show any emotion as you pull him into a tight hug, pressing your lips to his forehead. he tries to smile as he waves you goodbye, because he wants your last memory of him to be a good one. and he tries damn hard not to cry as he slides down the now-closed door of the house you once shared, head in his hands, knowing you’ve forgotten everything as easily as you breathed.

you’re his fourth betrayal. he hates that he has to remember that for the rest of his sorry, miserable life.

taglist: @i23kazu, @kazumist @oveloof (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin angst #scaramouche #scara angst #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst #kunikuzushi #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #balladeer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #༄the vessel’s voyages #scrolls of yore✒️ᝰ

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feelingthedisaster · 2 months ago

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Hello hi. I have no idea anything about the fandom you’re in, however I recognize a few names based off of the stuff you reblog. Mainly Aaron and Neil, I believe. So for that ask about characters could you tell me a bit about (either of) them?

hiii <3 <3

okay, so a lot of yapping alert cause im obssesed with those two little guys

aaron

How I feel about this character: i cannot physically stop thinking about him. he invades all my thoughts. he is basically my head roomie at this point. he is such an asshole. i love him. he is not normal and trying so hard to be which its a fact i cannot get over. also, he is the funniest motherfuxker alive and has been way before the bonus chapters, finally some recognition to my boy

All the people I ship romantically with this character: katelyn basically and only. tho i've read kevaaron/katekevaaron fics but i dont really ship them i just think the fics are neat

My non-romantic OTP for this character: hmmmmmmmmmmm. so hard to choose. i think he has a lot of potential with matt for a super cool friendship. i have him and andrew's sibling relationship rotating in my brain 24/6 (saturdays are aaron only) but the neilaaron bestfriendisims are so funny to read idk. AND nicky god. i need to crack open his parent-esque/cousin relationship. its impossible to deffine by normal standars, calling them cousins feels like it isnt enough and parent figure doesnt fit but they are family, and technically blood family but they are actually found family and and and

My unpopular opinion about this character: this opinion has actually becoming less unpopular since nora had to write text of the subtext but he isnt as homophobic as people make him to be. like, he isnt disgusted/feels hatred towards homosexuality he just dislikes neil and doesnt like the oversexualizating comments nicky makes. bc i mean, love nicky, but sometimes they are a little bit much. and yeah, he has internalized homophobia, he has even admitted it but i dont he externalizes it. the thing with neil is dislike towards neil/getting a reaction out to break the bros before hoes deal. (sorry i love calling it the bros before hoes deal its so funny, its their fault)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: i want to see him break. like for real. super ugly. gimme whump. . gimme failing everything he work for. gimme relapse. gimme all the bad things that could happen and worse. (except the trial going badly, i cant handle that)

neil

How I feel about this character: neil josten neil josten neil josten neil josten neil josten. i cannot describe him. he is such a concept. i devore it like i've never eaten before. he is a bit of nathaniel and a bit of neil and he is both and he is all and he is everything. and he is a lie but its all true. and he doesnt care but he cares very much. he manipulates like he breathes and he crimes like its in his blood but that bad but that has a benefit but no no thats not. god. he sees people, he helps, he is a sweetheart with who he cares/needs but can be the absolute worst if he needs it. like, like, he makes me insane. i cant form coherent thoughts about him

All the people I ship romantically with this character: andrew. and that kinda it. maybe kandreil in a weird queerplatonic way but not romantic with kevin but like yk

My non-romantic OTP for this character: kevin. and jean. and dan. and wymack. and idk, everything and everyone. all his interpersonal relationships are so interesting to me.

My unpopular opinion about this character: i can remember anything right now? maybe like i dont like him and andrew getting married but idk.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: mental health. shit has to affect him. he will never go to the therapy, its neil cmon, but that doesnt mean that shit doesnt happen and that his mental health is pristine and that there arent other things aside therapy. like, i want to explore more of everything that happened in the books affect him mental health-wise. not like a diagnosis/recovery but more like an exploration of his intricate issues

#thanks for the ask <3<3<3<3 #aftg #aaron minyard #neil josten

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slapintoaslimjim · 2 months ago

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hey luvs, i’m currently brewing up a lot of story ideas and need some help for which one i should finish and publish

*and as i’ve said before, i am a multishipper and write ship content, so do not come into my comments and reblogs actin a fool, you will be blocked.

here are my story ideas:

(yes i'm a sucker for song titled fics)

1: “All the things she (left un)said”. [togachaco angst, probably a lil hurt no comfort]

-after the final fight between toga and ochaco, ochaco finds herself dealing with frequent dreams about toga and survivors guilt

2: "didn't cha know?" [izuku x reader fluff, eventual confession. izuku being a lovesick puppy (god he makes me ill sjdfojvnwoj)]

-izuku is in an absolute trance by you, his best friend.

3: "kaleidoscope" [bkdk light angst, eventual fluff, bakugo assumes a LOT and gets in his feels lol]

-bakugou watches from the background as the one person he yearns for, izuku midoryia, (assuming-ly) falls for his own best friend, Kaminari (oh yeah a two for one special on this one)

4: "heaven and back" [pro-hero kaminari x pop/rockstar reader, suggestive/sexual tension, drugs n alcohol consumption, possible series (i've been thinking about this one for a WHILE)]

-you're a worldwide known artist that lives in a double life of cocaine sniffing and alcohol drinking every chance you get. kaminari, openly being a fan of yours and even following you on social media and sharing some of your songs on his ig story. during a world tour in Japan, you celebrate after a concert by going to the club, in which you meet a very familiar face

5: "kryptonite" [bakugou x reader, fluff]

-bakugou doesn't even know how it all started, you were supposed to be just another rival/classmate; an extra if you will. but god you make it so hard as you two become friends and the friendship grows

6: "luxurious'' [todoroki x reader, fluff blurb/drabble]

-dating a nepo baby who only wants the finest and best of things for his beautiful girl <3

in the mean time, i'll be finishing up bf headcanons of a few more characters :3

#my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #izuku x reader #togachako #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #midoryia x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #izuku midoria x reader #bnha bkdk

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noriirori · 1 year ago

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A friend recently asked, "what's the reason why you're in that fandom you're in right now?" And I couldn't help but dip my toes into answering this question because the reason why I'm in the tf2 fandom is a bit amusing to me.

Okay, July 28 of this year I was scrolling through Twitter, and then I happen to come across a comic page about two characters I had no idea about. This comic is titled HeavyMedic comic | Milk strawberry popsicles by Cabbage on Twitter. Now, keep in mind I had no clue who tf these characters were, I just saw that first page of the comic and I knew I had to stay and read this entire thing (even though I have no clue who tf they were). The hot weather, the bald character carrying a popsicle to give to a black haired character with glasses who the bald man called "Doktor", even though I wasn't in the tf2 fandom nor did I know who these characters were, I just knew one thing and it's that these guys are absolutely gay for each other.

Now at this time, I was pretty hooked. Multiple questions were coming into mind: who were these guys? Are these the creators original characters? Or are they from a video game? A movie maybe? I couldn't help myself, so I commented.

And ever since then, I was hooked! Since then, I've researched about this ship and eventually about the game itself. I've watched the official videos and read the comics, read fanfics, saved fan-art, etc.

I asked an online friend of mine (they were in many fandoms and I remembered them sending a picture of a group picture of a game that had those two guys.) if they knew which social media platform the tf2 fandom is very active on because I kinda wanna get involved in the community itself to talk and to engage in the fandom itself, and they said "oh, you should go to Tumblr since I've got mutuals that are active on there and they mainly post tf2 content." So, I downloaded Tumblr, made my account and since then, my feed is nothing but tf2 content (sometimes food and some other digital art stuff but tf2 definitely is my feed).

And after we shared the reasons why we're in the fandom we currently are in right now, they asked (the same friend who asked the first question) "and why did you chose to stay? Do you have favorite content creators in that fandom and why are they your favorite?"

First I'll answer, why I chose to stay. To keep it short and simple, it's because this fandom made me feel welcome and accepted. I love how nice the creators of artworks are, the writers, and the other people, who like me, also views fan-art in Tumblr. I love how there isn't really issues in the community (at least that I'm not aware of) and how respectful and funny people are. Obviously, we can't avoid that there is also a bad side to this fandom, and I was unfortunate enough to experience this type of treatment. I don't really want to go into detail but I guess *some* YouTubers are very homophobic which is so sad considering that most of them are genuinely fucking funny and their tf2 content absolutely bangs but as a non-binary pansexual myself, I can't let stuff like that slide. And thankfully, it is just some YouTubers, plus the content creators I watch in the tf2 fandom usually do SFMs instead of like having voice over shit and complain about the fandom enforcing LGBTQIA+ onto the characters. So yeah, I stayed because I'm in the good side of the community where people aren't fucking mean for no reason and respects and welcomes anyone despite whatever they are.

Also, the second question is a bit tricky because I LOVE ALL OF THE ARTISTS IN THE FANDOM each and every one of them are very much talented, amazing, beautiful, god-sent and wonderful. So, these are the artist that I mean:

Yeah, I love all of them, also I know what you'll say "but some of them don't do art, they just reblog!" So? I still consider them as artist bcuz they share ART. Okay, my absolutely favorite like my number one is Ncalabby. Most of my favorite fan-arts come from them. They are my favorite,well, because they are the reason that I'm in this fandom in the first place but other than that, I love their art. I love how they do their line art, the background and how each color on every art of theirs contrast with each other beautifully and makes the subject of their art shine because of the color scheme. And I love how they draw Medic, strong and massive unlike those fucking twink ahh Medic that people seem to make him as he is. It's *fine* if that's how your style is but making Medic small and skinny because he's a support and heals people isn't right. But that's just my opinion though.

Now, SFM creators, there are some that I absolutely love because well, they contribute heavily into the fandom. I'll be ranking them into 3rd to 1st.

3. DasMxD - I love their series' if tf2 was realistic, their SFMs are very smooth and natural.

2. Winglet - this guy, has the *smoothest* SFMs animations ever. I love how the mercenaries move in a way that's very much smooth and very natural, and I love their videos so much.

1. the-sound-of-progress -> I love Dusty, despsite their works being comics I don't think that SFM is made for comics yet somehow their SFMs are very pretty and natural, I love that the fact that they info dump on their blog because I am very interested in making my own SFMs in the upcoming future but I still don't have my own PC but their info dump about Blenders, SFMs, how to fix if the Medic model has that black thingy on his gloves, etc. Their works are wonderful, and them as a person as well ks just as fantastic as their work is. I did message them, told them how much I loved their work and they replied, and we're very humble with themselves which I love so much. Like I always wait for them to upload their comics because I find them so entraining and godsent stuff. Also, Dusty contributes heavily on the red Oktoberfest content, if you don't believe me, check out their page.

So yeah, this was what I answered to my friend and because I have nothing else to do, I will just share it here on my blog. Anyway, you, what's your reason why you're in the tf2 fandom? I'd like to know!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 medic #i love this fandom #thank you dusty #thank you tf2 fandom #i love you guys

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thessalian · 10 months ago

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Thess vs Israel

Wow. I'm getting some shit over my reblog at the moment. I'm not really sure why, given that all I was saying was that on this one issue, there is no Presidential candidate at this stage in the game who is not being an asshole about supporting Israel over Palestine. I am aware that the US vetoed Palestine joining the UN, and while Biden did say that UN membership for Palestine should be an eventual end goal, I figure that those words are just about worth the air used to speak them. I am aware that the US is still selling weapons to Israel and not condemning Israel for the Palestinian genocide.

Thing is? I don't live in the US. But I do live in a country that takes the same view on Israel as the US (and in fact has at least attempted to declare the waving of a Palestinian flag an antisemitic hate crime), and a country that entirely screwed itself over by voting on a single issue in very recent memory. In fact, I live in a country that supposedly doesn't have nearly the two-party system issues the US does but functionally does. I know first-hand the problems that come with throwing support at a third party in a two-party system, especially when voter suppression comes into play.

(Look, the government in this country literally admitted that their fucking voter ID laws were gerrymandering and only have issues with it because it didn't have the effect they wanted to, and then further admitted to setting more restrictions so that the gerrymandering will work they way they want it to. So you might say I'm a little sensitive to the issues surrounding what happens to one's vote.)

The thing I feel the need to underline is that you have to fix your own oxygen mask first. The US has its own struggles - the repeal of Roe vs Wade. The various "Don't Say Gay" laws. The gods-awful labour laws in ... it was Kentucky or Louisiana, possibly both. I couldn't tell you what's going on state-to-state, but it's a mess over there. And the reason I couldn't tell you is because we're having our own shit-show over here. The combination of Brexit and climate change-induced shitty weather is going to leave us with food shortages this year, and the increased rate of inflation and stagnant wages means most of us aren't going to be able to afford the food that is available. Frankly, that's been getting worse for years, as more and more of the Brexit-related policies have had to be enacted. The water companies are going bankrupt and deciding to ask for a 56% increase in water prices while diverting money to shareholders instead of ... oh, I don't know, building new reservoirs so we don't have a drought in one of the rainiest countries on the planet every single year. Our right to protest has been curtailed to ridiculous degrees - as in, we have the right to protest, but it's in name only and police will come shut us down if someone declares that our protest is "annoying" or "disruptive". They just passed a bill that, if enacted the way the government wants it to be, is going to get refugees shipped to fucking Rwanda, which the Supreme Court and damn near everyone else have declared unsafe. Not to mention that our universal healthcare system is all but entirely dismantled, the fitness to work of the disabled is going to be assessed by call centre staff with checklists instead of actual doctors, and the benefits of the disabled are apparently going to be scrapped in favour of "ways to help the disabled get back to work". And don't even get me started on the way the trans community is being treated in this country. Not just state-to-state; the entire country.

So, yes, I give a shit about Palestine. But what the fuck good am I going to be to the people of Palestine if I myself am starving, persecuted, and being pushed beyond my physical capabilities? I can care about Palestine without voting against my own interests, and that means tactical voting.

...Well, ordinarily it would, anyway. But the problem - which was the whole point of my comment on that reblog - is that both parties that stand a fucking chance of winning are on the same wavelength as regards Palestine. The Tories are perfectly happy to keep selling arms to Israel. And Labour? Starmer won't even admit that the very visible war crimes are actual war crimes - and he was a human rights lawyer. If I cannot guarantee that a party that will even attempt to stand up to Israel will take office, and I mean 100% guaranteed chance (which is not third parties, not in a two-party system)? Then I have to vote in my own interests.

I care very much about Palestine. However, I am not going to set myself on fire to keep Palestine warm, especially when I'm damn sure it wouldn't be keeping Palestine warm either way.

#Thess on politics

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theapangea · 2 years ago

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Blog & Request Rules

I normally am not one to care about rules/guidelines but it may be easier for all of you to know kind of how I operate.

~ Blog Rules ~

Most of my fics will include smut so if you are not 18+ pls for the love of god do not interact. If at some point you want to be tagged in a nsfw list, your age will need to be in your bio or sent to me via dm

You can request to be tagged for any story either in my inbox or dms

This is a safe space for everyone regardless of race/sexuality. I try my best to include inclusive writing for the reader in my story.

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If you LOVE my work, please let me know. It helps me to continue to write.

~ Request Rules ~

Request are CLOSED !

I only write reader inserts (second person) fics

I only write for fem!reader, especially for smut

All my characters are written as romantic relationships. I NEED this fluffy, angsty, smutty shit in my life

I do not write character x character ships

I seriously love receiving request so please keep sending them in. I am a little bit of a slower writer but I do my best to be proud of the work I am producing.

If you send a request in and I don't answer it, it means that I do not feel comfortable with the request. Thank you for understanding.

~ Character I write for ~

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

Lip Gallagher (Shameless)

Carmen Berzatto (The Bear)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Jay Kelso (That 90s show)

Nick Miller (New Girl)

My inbox is always open if you want to talk about literally anything <3

#blog rules #request rules #lip gallagher imagine #steve harrington imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #eddie munson imagine #dean winchester imagine #jay kelso imagine #nick miller imagine #just doing some housecleaning stuff to make my blog better #thanks for reading #if you're reading this - a little forehead kiss for you

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zyafics-recs · 3 months ago

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reblogging comment review by @zyafics

LITERALLY FINISHED AN ASSIGNMENT AND NOW I CAN TAKE A BREATH LETS GOOOO (long annotations below ⬇️)

Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster.

my psychopath lets gooo

The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor.There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue.

ur descriptions paints the scene of s2ep10 when they were on the ship so well, like i remember staring at your words going: wow 😦

"They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me.""Now, what am I going to do with you?"

why r all the crazy ones so fine

“To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

i love LOVE when the reader provokes rafe using his father like bro that's such a trigger for him rein it in 😭

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

YOOOOOO 😡

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set.

god, i love ur descriptions so much u don't understand i'm taking notes as i read this 📝

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

i love how much of a psychopath he is in this fic, like yes, this is the crazy man of s2 (i can fix him 🤞🏻)

He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.

YES, i love maybank!reader's deep analysis of rafe bc we know and that doesn't excuse his behavior but it helps us understand him 🥹

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope.

i love her lore so so much!!

And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too.

she's a love not a fighter fr 😩

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away.""Family's supposed to be everything, right?"

my daddy issues babies, sometimes i wanna push u two together like barbie and ken during play sessions (am i making sense idk anymore)

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

I LOVE LOVE LITTLE DETAILS LIKE THIS

“Shut up. Just… shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm

he has a heart !!!!

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

one of the things i admire so heavily with your writing is ur ability to write tense dialogues, the way they fight back and forth with words!! like i love it so so much!!

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper."And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

LOVE LOVE A HATE KISS

the poetry!!! shakespeare!!! u can write hamlet but can william write this?!?!?

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing."And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

i love when they're making out but they find ways to take shots at each other "I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. “Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "“Fucking asshole.”“Fucking brat.”

he's such a prick 😭 i want him in my bed

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

one of the hottest things a man can say to me

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay?

one of my favorite scenes got me kicking my feet like a school girl (dude u CARE stfu 😭)

“We’re getting out.”You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."“Okay.”“Okay.”

I'M OBSESSED WITH YOUR WORDS OH MY GOD

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | okay okay, let me catch my breath because that smut (their banter!!) was so fucking hot 🥵 (why do i use emojis like a middle school boy? anyways) i think what i truly noticed from this fic is how compelling you can make a scene. the way you built transitions so seamlessly through strong descriptions about what's going on (plot wise!) and it's such an admirable skill that i deeply deeply wish i have. especially because the language and vocabulary you use are so clean and expressive without making the audience (like me) feel dumb about not knowing the definition (does that make sense?) also also. as i always point out, i'm obsessed with your build-up dialogues. right before we hit the intense parts, you manage to build up this anticipation and adrenaline from reader and rafe arguing back and forth. and what i appreciate is how you kept the enemies part of enemies to lovers all the way through, only concluding that reader feels complicated near the end. like i love that she didn't fold; she continues to be defiant and her and that brings me to another trait i love about ur writing: ur consistency in your readers. if u plan on making a certain reader rebellious, you keep it to the very end and i love that. oops, this is getting a little too long. anyways, as always, incredible work gigi, i would love to see more of maybank!reader from you especially a second part to their escape (and what it means for them to be back in obx together?? her brother's reaction?? 🫠)

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

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

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v; they tell each other to shut the fuck up a lot lmao;

word count: 8k...im sorry

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between the Kooks and the Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever.

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth, lingering for days. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, fueled by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie. Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of Ward Cameron. The man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder.

Because in his twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly assessed your options. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face.

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a cold, calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking.

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit, huh? Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch. You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at you, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he advanced towards you. You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that had settled in your bones.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at a moment's notice. You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people.

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him.

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again.

His laugh was sharp and bitter. "You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but fear clawed at your chest. The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading.

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, burning hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body taut with the desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.”

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting. His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the trepidation you’d felt stuck.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had. If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!”

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of relief and dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would give a single fuck. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you’re a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently. Your brother would probably assume you’re dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean taunted you from beyond. Days had melded into one another, each marked only by the arrival of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some sense of clarity, some hint of what your future held, but his visits offered nothing but insults and foreboding silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention.

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that set your nerves on edge. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The stakes were clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a tense haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, his expression unreadable.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. This was a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists.

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you.

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. The island loomed closer, its pristine beaches and swaying palm trees offering a stark contrast to the danger that lurked just beneath the surface.

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight and unyielding as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you clung to the slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you on this remote island.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, their presence a constant reminder of the mess you were in.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman.

“This will be your home for the time being," Ward said, his voice cold and unfeeling, as if he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, it practically swallow you whole.

“My son will be keeping you company, don’t get too excited.”

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration. Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a stark reminder of the power he wielded over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father.

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face and something inside you urged you to fight.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," you said, your voice a low growl, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.”

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to. He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You know he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him.

Rafe’s words hung in the air like a noose, but you refused to let them tighten around your neck. "Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

For a moment, a flicker of doubt passed through his blue eyes. They were bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again, your pulse racing but your resolve intact. You had to get out of here. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation. You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department.

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit.

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine. Rafe's visits, Ward's looming threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward. You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently. Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence. It gave you whiplash.

You began to argue less with him, your animosity slowly giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin. You watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask.

Rafe's eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words.

At this point he just sounded tired.

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find. "You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention.

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone.

Again.

The days continued to pass, but something had shifted. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too. You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act.

Another day began with the same oppressive heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting a golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the rising panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. He stood with his back to you, staring out the window.

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that cut deep and made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet.

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it.

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him.

You met his gaze, the raw honesty of your answer surprising even you. "Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

Rafe seemed to consider this, his expression unreadable. "Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his own unresolved conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It’s heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”

You nodded, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

His eyes blazed with anger. “It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.”

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad.

"We always have a choice," you countered, your voice firm. "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression a tumult of emotions. Then he shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly. Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was the weight of your conversations or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle. Still, every interaction chipped away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air was still, the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You had been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house was quiet, Ward was gone and you hadn’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you knew how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork.

You could it.

This was your chance, and you couldn't afford to waste it.

You moved silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seemed to echo in the stillness, and you held your breath, praying you wouldn't be caught. The front door loomed ahead, your path to freedom. Your heart raced as you slowly turned the handle, wincing at the faint click that accompanied the action.

The night air hit you like a wave as you stepped outside, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had been your constant companion. You glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear, then made your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach. The plan was simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You kept low, moving quickly but cautiously, every step bringing you closer to your goal. The boat was within reach when a noise behind you made your blood run cold.

The crunch of gravel underfoot was unmistakable. You turned sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerged from the shadows. The asshole who’d gotten you here in the first place. He was closer than you had anticipated. Your heart pounded, adrenaline surging through your veins as you broke into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouted, his voice carrying across the trees. You didn't dare look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You felt a searing pain in your arm, but you couldn't stop. You pushed through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rang out, but you were too focused to determine where it landed. You reached the boat, hands trembling as you fumbled with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensified, but you forced yourself to keep moving. Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around. You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but he was stronger. He pulled you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioed for backup.

"Got her," he said into the radio, his breath hot against your ear. You tried to wriggle free, but his grip tightened. Moments later, two more guards arrived, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house.

Your mind raced the sting in your arm a painful reminder of your failed attempt. As they pulled you inside, the walls seemed to close in around you, your brief taste of freedom slipping away.

Moments felt like hours as you sat in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. The quiet murmurs of the guards outside were interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flew open, and there stood Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barked, his voice a volatile mix of anger and confusion. His gaze scanned the room, landing on you.

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He stormed towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous. Before you could answer, he whirled around to face the guards who had re-entered the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouted, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchanged nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammered. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twisted with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice dripped with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who had caught you tried to explain, but Rafe cut him off. “Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain was making you delirious.

“We need to get that cleaned up,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holstered his gun and gently took your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards looked on, unsure of what to do or say.

Rafe shot them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snapped. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men had left, Rafe's demeanor changed. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, hardened back into anger. He ran a hand through his long hair, pacing the small bathroom before finally stopping in front of you. His eyes were intense, burning with frustration.

He sneered at you, his voice dripping with disappointment and exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spat out, his frustration palpable. "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You tried to speak, to defend yourself, but he didn't give you the chance. His words came fast, each one like a dagger aimed at my heart. "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning into yours. "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to regain control of his temper. "You're just reckless," he continued, his voice quieter but still seething with anger. "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

He trailed off, his attention faltering for a moment before snapping back to you. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between knocking you out cold and something else—maybe concern, maybe fear.

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you called after him, your voice trembling with both pain and defiance.

He stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you. The fury in his eyes was matched only by the bitterness in your own. "I don't," he retorted, his tone icy. "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You stood up, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, facing him head-on. "So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose "Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twisted showcasing his wrath, and he took a step towards you, closing the distance. "Shut up!” he growled. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He took another step towards you, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching. "I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gave you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twisted into an expression of silent hatred. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. His hands came up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper.

"And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.

The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. His mouth was demanding, almost punishing, and you responded, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you wanted to push him away.

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other. Each fingertip left an imprint, a silent declaration of the strength he was restraining. It was like he was fighting to contain this force within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both.

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… All you wanted were his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roamed slowly yet purposefully over your lower back, over your waist. You breathed out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pulled him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes.

He pulled away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinked down at you. You watched him lick his bottom lip, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His eyes flared with renewed anger, but also with something else—something darker, more primal. Your words were like a match to gasoline. He didn't respond verbally; instead, he took a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift, decisive motion, Rafe carried you to the dining table, and you barely had time to register the cool wood against your back before he was on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matched your own. There was no tenderness there, only raw need and a desire to consume. He pried your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kissed you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers gripped your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation fluttered beneath your skin, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he pressed flush against your center.

His hands moved with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. You reciprocated eagerly, your own hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepened. Everything around you blurred as the room spun, his warmth against you making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips, intoxicating and irresistible.

You tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just couldn't wait. He let out that deep, sexy growl that made a shiver run down your spine. His hands were all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they went. It felt like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way that words could never capture.

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leaned down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he couldn't tell if you were amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks rounded as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But you didn't want control. You wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you'd been trough and just feel.

Rafe seemed to sense this, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifted you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction was exquisite, a delicious tease that left you craving more.

"Rafe," you breathed, and he almost fell to his knees at the soft whimper that left your lips when he couldn’t help but jerk his hips forward. He responded instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a fervor that left you dizzy. The table creaked under your combined weight, but neither of you cared. Your hand grabbed his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There was a wildness there, a reflection of the storm inside you. You reached up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, left a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slipped from your mouth as he palmed at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth grazed your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you.

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You opened your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you were the one in charge, but the intention died the moment Rafe cupped you through your shorts. A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat. Heat bloomed in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that flooded your skin and left you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierced into yours, watching as he pressed the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your entrance and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asked, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.” he rasped coldly, moving your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips parted on a sharp inhale as you felt him touch you for the first time, “Yeah, thought so.”

Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his hands, and the room around you blurred into insignificance. All that mattered was the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his unwavering control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whispered again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that had fueled you for so long. But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You hated how much you needed him, how much you craved his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’d been locked away from society for too long. That was the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirked, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes. "No, you don’t.”

You did. At least you used to, everything’s confusing now.

He teased you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that made your heart race.

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need was overwhelming, a fierce ache that demanded release.

“Fuck you," you spat, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that made your hips buck against his hand. "That's right," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escaped your lips, and you arched into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers moved expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that left you breathless. Every touch, every stroke was designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you were nothing but a trembling, pleading mess.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasped, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "Please, I need you."

His smirk widened, and he pulled his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He didn't make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he freed himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water.

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that made your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, your eyes locking with his, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, Rafe."

He didn't need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. Your back arched involuntarily, your lips parting as he entered you, filling you completely in a way you had never imagined.

He rolled his hips firmly against yours, and your head tipped back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You’d never felt so full. He didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. After another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm. His movements were hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaked and groaned beneath you, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering control. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You could feel him losing control, his need matching your own.

Your eyes squeezed shut, blocking him out so you could pretend you weren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really wanted to shut him out, you just couldn’t fight the crazy pull he had over you. His voice was like a force of nature. You opened your eyes and locked onto his intense gaze. Seeing him above you, his face twisted with raw need and determination sent chills down your spine. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with this dark, unyielding intensity that left you totally breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval and something deeper, something that made your heart race even more. It made you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck"

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. The pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that left you gasping, moaning, begging for more. His name slipped from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answered with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied, more primal.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world had narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that would undoubtedly linger.

"Rafe," you whimpered, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm... I can't..."

He understood. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commanded his voice a raw whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that left you trembling and breathless.

Rafe followed you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that left him shaking. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rode out his orgasm, his movements slowing until he finally stilled, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was something almost tender in his gaze.

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay?

“Rafe...“

Before you could process his words, before you could question or argue, his lips were on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle.

Devastating almost.

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Rafe’s words snapped you back to reality, the pain in your arm a sharp reminder of your injury. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporated, leaving you with the stark realization of your situation. You pushed at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Then do something about it."

He just stood there, staring at you as if he had never seen you before. As if he was truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hated every second of it because your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shook his head, drew closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needed to ensure that you were real, that everything was real.

“We’re getting out.”

You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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radioxdust · 11 months ago

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Mobile Navigation

A pinned post to help those who are mobile bound! This will contain rules and character info under the Read More break

I won’t reblog callouts or known discourse or drama, I’m here to have fun

Personals can follow me but, please do not reblog or comment on my threads

I sort of practice inbox karma? I’ll typically reblog from the source anyway but if I reblog it from you, I’ll always send something in

I’m used to threads picking up and dropping all the time, it’s fine. Just let me know!

No mains or exclusives here, I want to give everyone equal opportunity

I do RP dark subjects-given the nature of both shows- if you have a trigger feel free to ask me to tag it and I’ll ask if you have any triggers before we start anything

I am multi-ship and multi-verse.

I require information and rules somewhere on your blog

I don’t RP with horror fandoms, including movies-Halloween-and games-FNAF-and creepastas-Jeff the killer-as well as the MLP fandom

Feel free to nudge me if I’m missing a reply for you. Sometimes I thought I replied and actually didn't

I don’t really care about the length of a reply so don’t try to match me. I do casual and semi-para RP, I just require that it’s 2 sentences at the very least

no god-modding, that’s a given

I do not format my post, if you want to format my reply when you reblog it,go ahead. I will not refuse to RP with anyone just because they do or do not format.

I will usually reblog asks to turn them into threads,if you don’t want me doing that I do not mind making a new post, just let me know

I do have icons and I’ll use them a quarter of the time but it’s not a requirement to use icons with me. I’m on mobile usually

I do/can RP NSFW it will be tagged and put under a ‘read more’ if it comes up. I’m 21+

If you need me to tag something it will be tagged tw:trigger

I don’t think I post a lot of OOC outside of when I’ll post replies and whatnot-I typically talk in the tags but I’ll usually use a OOC tag

CHARACTER ABOUTS

Charlotte Morningstar-Magne

She wants to stop the yearly extermination by redeeming the Sinners of Pentagram City and grant them access to heaven. She’s compassionate, naive, and has a love for theatre. However, she isn’t stupid and won’t let others use her just because she’s the princess. I write Charlie is bi/pan and she has both her mother and father’s last names(AKA I really liked her original last name)

Alastor

An overlord of hell known as The Radio Demon. Despite the power he holds, he tones himself down for others who he considers his true friends. He has manners but uses them selectively. He is narcissistic but not reckless-Death date 1933. Alastor is asexual/demi-romantic.

Angel Dust

Selfishly living in the Hazbin Hotel for free, Angel Dust is Hell’s best prostitute. He is reckless, even if it it means screwing someone else over. He can be playful and dangerous, he’s rude, vulgar, and very flirtatious-Death Date 1947. Angel is gay and I will portraying him with DID, he had it in life as well as death. Right now there are two alters, Angel Dust and Anthony. Angel is the Protector/Persecutor. Anthony is the memory holder Vox An overlord of hell and a savvy businessman, owner and CEO of VoxTek and a member of the Vees. Death date is the 1950’s and as a result, has major fucking beef with Alastor. Vox is bi

Verses

swap AU

where Charlie switches roles with Alastor, Angel will switch with Vaggie

2P,

where the character role is the same but personalities are swapped.

Say You’ll Remember Me?

The hotel is working a little too well, demons are doing the impossible at an impossible rate. Soon, Charlie and the hellborns will be the only ones left in pride. This will also feature redeemed characters.

Human AU

all characters are set in the time they died. There is going to be a modern AU as well for all characters.

Strawberry Al A more pink Alastor who’s less of an asshole outright. This will be an AU where he’s a yandere of sorts. He does in fact mostly mind his business in Cannibal Town and was working on being an Overlord for the power and security behind it but, made a deal with Lilith that fucked him over, he copes as well as he can Still figuring out the details on this one so it’s in a test phase. The deal with Lilith is a running theory right now and until it is confirmed, it only applies to Strawberry Al

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greenandhazy · 3 years ago

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Love Interests on Downton Abbey: Some Math and Charts

I got curious about the breakdown of love interests on Downton Abbey, specifically with regards to Thomas and the profusion of movie love interests. Before I knew it, I was sitting down and doing some actual math, and people expressed interests, so I figured I might as well take the time to share.

I’ve focused most of my attention on characters who appear in all six series of the show and both movies, and in particular on those whom we might call “of typical marrying age”—characters in their 20s-30s, who are more likely to have a statistically significant number of love interests. Anna and Bates aren’t included because they’re really only for each other from the first season. The characters in their 40s and above aren’t counted because a) most of them have 1 permanent love interest and 1 relationship that doesn’t work out, which isn’t statistically valuable in comparing them to the younger generation, and b) several of them—Isobel, Violet, and Carson—have plots related to love interests who died without every appearing onscreen, so that complicates things.

I’m defining “love interest” as a potential romantic partner that the character canonically either has romantic feelings for, or were seriously persuing. (So for example, Mary/Richard Carlisle was a serious pairing regardless of her romantic feelings, Thomas/Daisy in the first season was not.) I’m defining “installment” as either a full series of the show, or a movie; I’m not breaking it down by episode, because that would truly be Too Much. And I’m defining “requited” as meaning both parties at one point genuinely consented to the relationship in some form, regardless of whether consent was revoked at a later point.

First, a total list of love interests:

Mary: Duke of Crowborough, Kemal Pamuk, Evelyn Napier, Matthew Crawley, Sir Richard Carlisle, Charles Blake, Tony Gillingham, Henry Talbot, Jack Barber

Thomas: Duke of Crowborough, Kemal Pamuk, Edward Courtenay, Jimmy Kent, Richard Ellis, Chris Webster, Guy Dexter

Edith: Matthew Crawley, Sir Anthony Strallan, John Drake, Patrick Gordon/Crawley, Michael Gregson, Bertie Pelham

Tom: Sybil Crawley, Edna Braithwaite, Sarah Bunting, Lucy Smith

Daisy: Thomas Barrow, William Mason, Alfred Nugent, Andy Parker

Of this group, Thomas and Tom are the only ones who go into the movies without having met their endgame partner; Thomas is the only one who goes into the final movie without an endgame partner, and the only one (of the entire cast, not just this limited sample) who gets more than one love interest in the movies.

* I have omitted Matthew from Edith’s talley of multi-appearance love interests because her romantic subplot with him only lasted for one episode, and beyond that he was principally there as a love interest of Mary’s.

And here’s a fun timeline showing the installments in which characters were either partnered, or in which they had textual romantic subplots. (So, for example, Daisy’s ongoing crush on Alfred was referred to numerous times in s4 and was counted, but the extent to which Thomas’s plots with Jimmy were influenced by his unspoken ongoing crush vs platonic friendship remains unclear, and therefore was not counted.)

#thomas barrow #mary crawley #edith crawley #tom branson #daisy mason #(I'm guessing that's her main tag? oh married names)#(they are a pickle)#downton abbey #if you reblog this with mean ship comments so help me god #I will fill your shoes with tomato soup #all of them. every last shoe.#spoilers #I guess

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the-travelling-witch · 2 years ago

Text

Pulling them in for a kiss by their belt/ tie

summary: you pull them in for a kiss by their belt/ tie, how do they react?

pairings: post-timekip!rindou x gn!reader; ran x reader; inui x reader; kokonoi x reader; hanma x reader

warnings: suggestive [not nsfw but still a little spicy]; mentions of alcohol consumption in inui’s; use of princess/ doll in ran´s, use of doll in hanma´s but gn pronouns in both; kinda implied that hanma and ran are taller than the reader; reader is a teasing menace

a/n: finally, a tokyo revengers post again!! i´ve been down bad for seishu ever since @virtue-and-beneviolence shipped me with him and it shows; if you enjoy the fic, i´d be so grateful if you´d share your thoughts with me through reblogs, comments or asks!! ♡

tokyo revengers masterlist

RINDOU

Humming to yourself, you made your way to your bedroom. Leaning against the doorway, you studied the sight before you. Your boyfriend was currently getting ready for a work event he had been complaining about all week. And since it was strictly gang business, outsiders weren´t allowed to attend.

With avid interest you watched Rindou´s back muscles flex as he pulled the white dress shirt on. If you looked closely enough you could still see the black lines of his tattoo through the material. You sighed as he rolled up the sleeves, revealing the black ink on his right forearm completely.

Your boyfriend´s formerly blank expression softened the slightest bit as he turned around and came closer to where you were standing, extending a hand to cup your cheek. “I´m sorry, angel, I know I´ve been busy with work lately. But I really can´t miss tonight. I´d rather stay here as well.”

“It's okay, Rin, I´m not upset or anything. Work´s work, after all.” You didn´t have it in you to correct his interpretation when he was being so cute about it. “Anything I can help with?”

“Well, if you´re already offering, mind buttoning up the shirt?” Again, you doubted your boyfriend had any ulterior motives when asking but you sure had when agreeing to. Straightening up, your hand reached for his hip as you hooked one finger in his belt loop and pulled him flush to your chest. “Y/n?!”

“Well, I need you to come a little closer to properly do it, wouldn´t you agree?” There was a mischievous lilt in your voice but if he thought you were going to stop with just this, he was sorely mistaken.

Your boyfriend was already looking so handsome tonight, surely nobody could fault you for the way you ran your palms over the planes of his defined abs, which twitched at your touch. The fingers of your left hand slowly traced his tattoo, leaving goosebumps in their wake and sent a shiver down his spine.

“Y/n.” Your name came out more sternly this time, something which didn´t deter you from your ministrations but only encouraged you to keep going. Through hooded eyes, you held his gaze as your fingertips non-chalantly dipped beneath his waistband. A small smirk tugged on your lips at the way his breath hitched at the contact. But before they could venture any further, Rindou firmly grabbed your wrists and held them up to his chest. “I swear to god, you can be such a menace.”

“Sorry,” you giggled. “But you´re right. We don´t want to you to get too excited before the night even started.”

“Remind me again why I asked to date you?” He groaned as he fixed you with the most deadpan expression you'd seen in a while.

“Because you love me, of course~”

“Highly debatable.”

“Oh come on,” you cooed as you twisted your wrists out of his grip just to press them against his pecs and slide them over his shoulders. Gently scraping your nails down his nape, you leant in close to his ear and whispered “We both know you wanna kiss me so badly. Denying it only makes you look stupid and, I assure you, it´s not a good look on you.”

When you leant back again, Rindou seemed to still process your words as his lips were left slightly parted. But then, they pressed into a tight line as he fixed you with a mean glare that normally meant pain for the person at the receiving end. Seizing your chin in one hand, he tilted it so you were staring at each other head on.

“So that´s how you wanna play, brat?”

“Sure is,” you hummed with a grin just to see his jaw lock.

Apparently, “please” wasn´t the only magic word to get what you wanted because after your reply left your mouth, the only thing on your lips were Rindou´s. The kiss started out fast and powerful, the hand on your chin cupping the back of your neck instead to angle your head however he wanted while the hand on the small of your back kept you pressed against him. You kissed back with just as much fervour, palms pressing against his chest and occasionally lightly digging your nails into the muscle there.

But before long, it mellowed out into soft traces on each other´s skin and slower rhythms. You concentrated on the beating of his heart under your fingertips as you parted without any haste to catch your breath. Instead of creating any physical distance you simply pressed your foreheads together.

“I won´t forget this, you hear?” It was probably meant as somewhat of a threat, yet in your ears it was merely an enticing promise.

“You´d better not,” you laughed breathlessly.

[“Are you done pushing my buttons now?”

“Mhm, I still need to button up the ones on your shirt though”]

RAN

Turning in front of your floor-length mirror, you ran your hands down the sides of your evening attire, hoping to smooth out whatever wrinkles and creases might have formed while getting dressed. When you were satisfied with your handiwork, you started putting on every accessory you had chosen for tonight.

A few hours prior, you had received a cryptic text from your boyfriend to “not make any plans for tonight and put on something nice”. While it might have been a surprise to somebody else, you hardly batted an eye, thoroughly used to Ran´s antics by now.

You were fiddling with the clasp of your necklace when a low whistle rang through the room. Through the mirror you saw the man of the hour leaning against the doorframe, clad in a fitted suit and his hair styled to perfection, his lilac gaze running from your head to toe and back up as he studied the view in front of him. With an amused grin and his eyes never leaving yours in the reflection, he slowly approached you before taking the two ends of the jewellery and clasping them together for you, the tips of his fingers lightly trailing the skin of your neck as they lingered longer than necessary.

“My, my,” he mused, “I know I said to wear something nice but look at you…Trying to seduce me all over again, doll?”

Leaning back into his chest and pulling his hands in front of you, you hummed as if deep in thought while running your fingers along his slender ones. “And what if I said yes?”

“Then I'd have to admit it's working.” One of his arms wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him as the other brought your hand, which still held his, up to his lips to press fleeting pecks to your knuckles. “Hmm, just what did I do to get so lucky?”

“Considering what you do for a living,” you couldn´t help but tease, “it's probably something you didn´t do.”

You felt your boyfriend´s chuckle just as much as you heard it, the fingers on your hip playfully pinching the skin there. “Careful now, Princess.”

“Or what else?” You cocked an eyebrow as you mirrored his smirk. “Hate to break it to you but I´m not really scared of someone who can´t even give their significant other a proper kiss.”

“Oh, is that so?” The skin around his eyes crinkled as he narrowed them in mirth. “And what, pray tell, would be ‘a proper kiss‘ in your eyes?”

“This.”

Turning to face your lover, you swiftly latched onto the tie that sat so nicely over his chest and gave it a firm tug. Your sudden action caused Ran to let out a surprised noise not many got to hear before, his usually cocky smirk replaced by wide eyes for once as you brought his face level with yours. Eyes flitting between lilac ones and a pair of very kissable lips, you took another moment to relish in the fact you caught the Ran Haitani off guard before finally closing the gap between you.

Your boyfriend caught on quickly enough, though, once your lips moved with his, hands coming alive against your hips again to pull you flush to his chest once more. In return, your palms slid over his pecs to his collarbones and to his nape; one slipping under the collar of his crisp white button-up, the other settling in his hair with every intent to ruin the meticulously styled strands.

When a muffled moan left you as he grabbed the underside of your thigh to wrap it around his waist, Ran wasted no time tangling his tongue with yours, hoping to pull a few more noises from you. Sure, you might have surprised him but it only further encouraged him to get you back for it. Even as you pulled away from him for some much needed air, he simply moved on to your jaw and down your neck, mouth never once leaving your skin. With your head tilted to the side, your gaze fell onto the clock on the wall.

“Ran,” you panted, slightly tugging at his hair again, to detach him from the curve of your neck. “Dinner…We really need to go soon…”

“So, I can´t even finish what you started, doll?” His typical grin had returned as he tucked your clothes back into place. It was his fault they were dishevelled in the first place, after all. “But you´re right, we should get going. The earlier we leave, the earlier we´ll be back.”

“A proper kiss needs to be properly followed up, don´t you agree?” Licking his lips and shooting you a cheeky wink, you realised you might have dug your own grave with your little stunt. “Mmh, I think I´ll really enjoy the dessert tonight.”

SEISHU

The bass was pulsing in your ears and your blood felt like it was on fire, whether it was the music or the shots you did with your friends you didn´t know. All you knew was that you felt good.

Swaying your body to the music, you sang your heart out as your friend pulled you into her, moving you in time with her, your other friends eagerly cheering you on. When the song ended, you both parted as everyone raised their glasses, laughing.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the lounge the rest of your group was occupying and you gestured to your friends you´d be taking a quick breather. Shoving your way through the masses on the dance floor, you headed straight to where your boyfriend was sitting. As you approached, you noticed he had his eyes already on you. Grinning, you came to stand behind the back of the velvety couch, hugging him as you bent down.

“Hello there, beautiful,” you sing-songed with your lips next to his ear, all the while letting your fingers explore his front. “You alone here?”

“Seems like I won´t be for much longer,” he chuckled. Taking hold of one of your wandering hands, he placed feathery kisses from your knuckles to your wrist before turning his head to meet your eyes with lidded ones. “That is, if a pretty thing like you would like to keep me company?”

“How could I possibly say no to such a charming man?” you giggled.

Rounding the couch, you made sure to take your sweet time as Inui watched you with amusement playing around his lips. When you finally made your way over to him and came to a halt between his spread legs, you couldn´t suppress your own grin anymore. Just as you tenderly placed a hand on his cheek you felt his hands rest where your hips met your thighs, trailing them higher agonisingly slow.

It was as if his touch ignited a fever in you, electricity seemingly sparking from under his fingertips and running up your spine as you sighed his name. Leaning forward and placing your knee between his, you raked your fingers over his scalp, pushing his hair back as his bright eyes met yours.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, tone genuine as he studied your expression.

You hummed as you traced your thumb over his cupid's bow. “Very much so. But it's even better now that I'm with you.”

“That's good to hear.” With one fluid motion causing you to yelp in surprise, Inui had pulled you flush into his lap, your knees framing both sides of his hips as your hands found purchase on his shoulder to balance yourself. “I, too, am enjoying having you finally to myself.”

“Sheishu!” You dug your nails into his back as he attached his lips to your pulse point after pushing your top to the side. “We´re in public!”

“So? Nobody cares anyway. Besides,” It was his time to low whisper in your ear, “if they wanna watch, might as well give them something to stare at, right?”

One of his hands moved to massage the back of your head as he resurfaced from the crook of your neck to check your expression for any discomfort. Meanwhile one of your hands had come to rest against his chest and was fiddling with his tie as the other was still slung over his shoulder.

“Unless you wanna stop?”

That was what cemented the answer you had already known deep inside.

“Hell no.” In a fit of impulsiveness, your fingers tightened around the fabric between them as you simultaneously leaned in. Apparently, Inui had expected your sudden burst of courage and turned his head in time to cushion the way your lips crashed onto his. Using the hand on the back of your head to angle your head to his liking, he quickly took control of the kiss as you pressed your chest deeper into his.

His hand squeezed the fat of your thigh causing you to moan his name but before you could pull back and cover your mouth, your boyfriend had already taken the opportunity to tangle his tongue with yours as you pointlessly fought for dominance, making you grab onto fistfuls of his dress shirt.

When you had to pull away to gasp for air, you didn´t get far before a hand on your jaw kept you in place. Inui carefully traced the features of your face in a stark contrast to his previous actions. His thumb finally settled on lightly pulling on your kiss swollen bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought as he ran the digit back and forth.

“Have I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look tonight?” The only answer you could manage was a dazed hum, as you watched the coloured lights reflect in his eyes with rapt attention.

“What do you say we take this home, pretty? Some things should stay between just the two of us after all.”

KOKO

Relaxing against the plush cushions of the couch you were seated on, you took the moment to rest your aching feet. All the walking you had done today would certainly come back to bite you in the ass tomorrow. You loved your boyfriend, you really did, but when it came to shopping trips, Koko could be absolutely ruthless.

But this would be the last store, he promised, so you sat back and let him do his thing. You were already aware that his standard for basically everything was pretty high, that was why it didn´t really faze you to see him try on fifty different jackets, trousers, shirt, shoes, you name it until everything went together the way he wanted it to. Looking put together was what put his mind at ease and made him feel comfortable, making these trips worth the sore feet. Besides, you got to see Koko in so many different outfits in one day alone, so in your mind you were very much winning.

The last missing puzzle piece was a belt. You watched the shop assistant pull out the whole register before leaving the two of you to your own devices. To be quite frank, you were mostly there for moral support, listening to Koko´s thoughts and every now and then quipping in a “I think it looks good on you” because everything did look good on him, no lie found here.

Little by little, belts were ruled out until he was only switching between two different ones. As you studied him turning in front of the mirror, a knowing smile made its way onto your face. You were pretty sure, he had already decided on one in his head and just kept questioning his decision. Time for you to shine.

“Babe, do you want to share your thoughts with me?” With an exhausted sigh, your boyfriend turned towards you and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It´s just… I like this one but I´m not sure if it´s the right choice for the outfit.” He fiddled with the strap of the chain belt currently decorating his waist and hips. “Maybe a bolder statement piece would look better…”

“Hmm, I actually think it works quite well together,” you hummed. “Especially, if you want to wear other jewellery with it. It could be too much with a statement piece, you know? Besides, I think this one goes better with your other clothes too.”

“You´re right. Thanks, love.” With a soft smile he moved to where you sat and pressed a quick peck to your temple. “I guess that means, you prefer this one then?”

“I do.” Your reply came out rather absent-minded though, as you ran your fingers up his thighs. In the back of your head you wondered where this was suddenly coming from but truthfully, you didn´t really care. And as your eyes met normally narrowed ones now blown wide in shock, it was already too late.

The belt´s first stress test was you yanking on the golden chain hanging from Koko´s hip, causing him to stumble forward, bracing himself on the back of the couch with one hand as one knee came down on your side.

“Y/n, what are you doing?!” Koko´s yell came out hushed as he tried not to alert the shop clerk.

“What? I have to make sure it´s a quality belt, right?” Your boyfriend did not like the way your eyes lit up with mirth and started to form little crescents at your next words. “And for that, I think I need to take a closer look.”

With your fingers now hooked under the main strap of the chain, Koko was promptly pulled all the way down and onto your lap. The position caused him to bury his face in the crook of your neck as you laughed, able to feel the heat radiate from his glowing cheeks.

“Something wrong, babe?” you cooed as you ran a comforting hand up and down the expanse of his spine.

“Nothing in my life has brought me closer to death than you and that says a lot,” he grumbled into your neck, which caused you to let out another burst of gleeful laughter. Then you gently tugged him back so you could cup his face between your hands.

“I didn´t mean to fluster you this much, you know. But I´ll remember it for the future.” You gave him your cheekiest wink which made him groan again but this time he couldn´t hide his red-dusted face. In a soft whisper you called for his attention. “Hajime, look at me.”

With tender care, you connected your lips as you felt him shift his weight on top of you, with one hand still balancing himself on the headrest. There was no need to rush the way your heads turned and angled in unison or the way your thumbs caressed the planes of his cheekbones. Soft strands of hair tickled the left side of your face and you gently pushed the tresses back, noting the small sigh that escaped your boyfriend as your fingers worked over his scalp.

Although you´d do nothing rather than stay in this moment forever, you were still in public. Begrudgingly, you parted from one another but the hand in his hair continued playing his velvety locks as both of you just lovingly gazed at the other. You were the first one who broke the silence and just couldn´t help yourself but tease him just a little more.

“Yeah, this one's good.” For emphasis, you tugged on the belt strap again. “Can´t wait to see what other outfits this would go with. Maybe we should try it out once we get home.”

HANMA

“I don´t wanna go.”

“Shuji, you have to.”

“But meetings are always so booooring,” he yawned. “Nothing fun ever happens.”

The sheets rustled as you rolled over to come face to face with your boyfriend, his amber eyes still droopy with sleep and his black and blond locks tussled into a fashionable bedhead.

A few minutes ago, both of you had been woken up and robbed of your chance to sleep in by the sound of his phone ringing. Hanma´s presence was required for an unscheduled Toman meeting and Kisaki made it clear that not attending was not an option. A reality the man next to you refused to subscribe to.

“Seriously, Shuji,” you said as you leaned on your elbows to give him a stern look “you´ll be late if you don´t start getting ready soon.”

Moving faster than a half-asleep person should, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you close enough to bury his head in the crook of your neck. “Already told ya, I don´t care ´bout that stupid meeting.”

“Well, I do,” you warned “because we both know Kisaki´s going to be on my ass just as much as yours if you miss it and that´s no fun either. So, get dressed.”

“Babe´s such a kill-joy today.” His voice was muffled against the skin of your neck but you could still make out his words well enough to pinch him in the ribs for it. “Alright, alright, I´m going. Jeez, can´t even have a chill morning around here anymore.”

And with that, your boyfriend dramatically slid his lanky frame out of bed and towards the bathroom, all the while grumbling to himself. Resigning yourself to the fact you wouldn´t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you left the comfort of your bed as well and threw on one of Hanma´s shirts on the way to the kitchen. Obviously, you weren´t happy either your precious morning together with your boyfriends was cut short so unceremoniously but you really didn´t want to deal with Kisaki´s nagging.

While waiting for your coffee to brew, you pulled out some bread and scoured the fridge for something to make breakfast with. As you finished the first sandwich and placed it in a lunch box, Hanma appeared in the kitchen door, basically unrecognisable from the man who had not too long ago laid in bed with you. His hair was styled with no trace of bed head left, an ear thread was dangling from his left earlobe and round glasses were framing his almond eyes perfectly. But most importantly, the pinstripe suit he was sporting was tailored perfectly to enhance his lean physique, his muscles visible as he fiddled with the cuffs.

“Here.” Holding out the box to him, you watched as his attention drifted to you as his expression shifted from surprised to grinning in a split second before stepping closer. “Thought you might get even more cranky without breakfast.”

“Aren´t I lucky?” he chuckled. “Yer the best, doll.”

“Are you only realising that now or…?” you teased despite Hanma slowly crowding you against the kitchen counter. And before you could react– “Hey!”

Smiling down at you after setting your mug back down, you almost regretted being so generous with breakfast. “Even made coffee for me, I really landed the jackpot here, don´t cha think?~”

“Oh shut up, will you?” You crossed your arms, looking to the side and pretending to be upset, you paid no mind to the way Hanma´s arms came to cage you between him and the edge of the counter, no doubt wearing that infuriating grin you just wanted to wipe off. And you might just have an idea on how to.

“Make me~”

Just the answer you were expecting.

One hand flying to his tie, the other finding purchase on the back of his neck, you pulled him down even further than he had already leant down and crashed your lips together. Taken aback by your sudden action, you swallowed the surprised noise that escaped him before he regained awareness of what was happening.

As the movement of his lips fell into rhythm with yours, two strong hands hoisted you up on the counter before sliding to your thighs to spread them just enough so your boyfriend could slot himself between them. With you sitting pressed tightly against him on the edge of the counter, his now free hands started to wander again, never staying in one place for too long, groping here and there as he pleased.

“Weren´t ya the one who wanted me to go so badly? And now you pull a stunt like this?” His low voice rang out close to your ear as his hot breath fanned your cheek. “So what´s it gonna be, sweetcheeks? Ya want me to stay, don´t cha?”

“Obviously, I want you to stay, I´m not mental. But–”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Responsibilities and all that crap.” The way he rolled his eyes and grimaced would have been enough to convey his clear distaste for all that crap but just for good measure, he laced his voice with a distinguished air of disinterest, yet his next words were nothing but seriousness.

“Don´t think that just because I´m leaving it means I´m done with ya, sweetheart. Ya better be ready for when I´ll come back to continue this.”

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