#it was true. but she was alone for so long

[nosyp]

i would LOVE. a gentle smut with player 120, where cho hyun-ju had been feeling off due to the feeling of everyone looking at her weird in the games for being trans, but the reader yk just loved her for her, and wanted to show her that and basically just have intimate lovey dovey sex with her!? LIKE SORRY IF THIS IS CONFUSING.. IM JUST ALL FOR THE GENTLE SMUTS OF HER ESPECIALLY THEY DRIVE ME NUTS BRO

I'm so sorry if it took so long I had to sift thru requests sooo... hope you enjoy tho :)

Here are soime pics as well as compensation

Title = A Small Token of Appreciation

Warnings = smut🔞, touching, kissing, blowjob, gentle sex, cumming in mouth

Pairing = Hyun ju (Player 120) x GN! reader

Word count = 1.7k words

The tension in the air was palpable as Cho Hyun-ju sat in the corner, her gaze distant, lost in her own thoughts. Ever since entering the games, she had felt the weight of every pair of eyes on her, every whisper and judgmental stare. People had made their assumptions, and it made her feel like she didn’t belong, not just in the game, but in the world around her. Everyone was questioning the fact that she looked so much like a boy despite acting feminine. 

The insecurity started to simmer beneath her calm exterior and had been growing, creeping in quietly with each passing day, until it was almost impossible to ignore.

But you could see it, the way she held herself a little more tightly, the subtle frown that tugged at the corners of her mouth, and the sadness in her eyes that she tried so hard to hide. No one else seemed to notice, or maybe they were too afraid to acknowledge what was happening beneath the surface. But you noticed. And you knew exactly how to show her that none of that mattered to you.

You loved her, not for any reason other than the fact that she was Cho Hyun-ju. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. To you, she was perfect, every little part of her. Her strength, her vulnerability, the way she cared so deeply for others. It was all so beautiful.

You approached her slowly, your steps soft against the floor as you closed the distance between you two. Your heart hurt to see her like this, but you wouldn’t push her. You knew she needed to come to you when she was ready. As you reached her, you knelt down beside her, your fingertips gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She flinched slightly at the touch, but you could see the tension in her body begin to ease just a little.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of warmth. It was more than just a greeting, it was a reminder. A reminder that she wasn’t alone in this. “Y’know… you don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know?”

Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for the briefest moment, you saw the walls she had built around herself crack just enough for you to glimpse her true feelings. Vulnerability. Doubt. Fear. She was a fighter on the outside, but in this very moment, she was simply someone who needed comfort. Someone who needed to be reminded that they were loved, just as they were. And you were the person to remind her.

You reached out and cupped her face with both hands, your thumbs brushing over her soft skin as you gazed into her eyes. “I love you,” you said, your voice a quiet but powerful declaration. “I love you for who you are, not what others think of you. You’re perfect just the way you are, and I need you to believe that.”

She didn’t say anything at first, but her lips parted slightly, a breath escaping as her eyes softened, the tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer will. You could see the way her breath hitched as the walls around her heart finally began to crumble, just a little.

And then, without another word, you leaned in, pressing your lips to hers with all the tenderness you could muster. It was a kiss that spoke of reassurance, of love that was unwavering. Slowly, you pulled back just enough to speak again, your voice now a soft whisper against her lips.

“I’m here for you, Hyun-ju,” you murmured. “And I always will be.”

Her arms came up to wrap around you, pulling you closer as if to say everything she couldn’t in that moment. The feeling of her embrace, the way she melted into you, trusting you, was all you needed to know that, no matter how hard the world outside was, you would always be there for her.

The kiss lingered for a moment, soft and full of meaning, but the tension between you two wasn’t just emotional anymore. It had slowly become something deeper, something that pulsed between your bodies, unspoken but undeniable. The way her body pressed against yours, the way her hands moved to your back, pulling you closer, it was clear she needed more. She needed to feel loved in every way, to be shown that she was desired just as much as she was valued.

You pulled away slightly, your breath coming out in soft, steady puffs. Her eyes were closed now, her cheeks flushed from the intensity of the kiss, and you could see the desire building in her. She was slow, steady, as if she was testing the waters. You reached down to brush your fingers along the sides of her arms, feeling the goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, your voice a soft murmur. You wanted her, but you also knew she needed to feel safe, to feel like she was in control of this moment, even if just a little.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at you with a quiet intensity. “I trust you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in it made your heart skip.

That was all you needed to hear.

You leaned in again, kissing her more deeply this time, your hands moving to trace the curve of her back, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. She responded almost immediately, her hands sliding up to your shoulders and then down to the fabric of your clothes, tugging at it gently as if asking you to remove the barrier between you two.

You paused for a moment, pulling back just enough to undress her slowly. Every piece of clothing that came off revealed more of the woman you adored, and with each layer she shed, you saw not just her physical beauty, but her soul, the woman who had faced so much and still managed to smile.

When she was finally bare before you, she looked up at you with such raw vulnerability, a quiet desire in her gaze that made your heart ache. “I need to feel you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

Your response was gentle, tender, as you cupped her face again, kissing her softly before guiding her to lay back, your hands running down her body in the most soothing way. “I’m here, Hyun-ju. You’re safe with me.”

You moved over her slowly, your body hovering just above hers as you kissed her once more. It was slow, languid, filled with the love you wanted to show her. Your hands explored every inch of her skin, tracing the curves you adored, feeling the warmth of her body beneath your fingertips. You could feel her shivering slightly as you moved lower, your lips following the path your hands had taken, pressing gentle kisses to her chest, her stomach.

She gasped softly as you moved between her legs, your fingers tracing the lines of her body, asking her permission with every touch. When you felt her nod, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her, you lowered your mouth to her, your lips brushing against her with such tenderness. You wanted to show her how beautiful she was, how much she meant to you in every possible way.

You were slow, slow because you knew she needed this gentleness, this tenderness, to remind her that she was desired for more than just her physicality. As you moved against her, your lips trailing soft kisses across her body, she responded with soft moans, her fingers gripping your hair, urging you to continue.

“I love you,” you whispered against her skin, your voice full of emotion. “I’m never letting you go.”

The two of you moved together, every touch, every kiss, every caress, meant to remind her that she was wanted, not just in this moment, but always.

Your hands tugged at her pants, and your eyes were looking up at her for approval. She looked towards you, meeting gazes and nodded her head, giving you the permission you needed. Gently, you slipped your finger between the waistband of her pants and her skin, letting it stay there before lightly pulling it off. 

It revealed her red cock, it was a shade of pink that was so intense it must’ve hurt. You couldn’t let her go through it anymore so you quickly slipped it in your throat, shoving her whole length into your mouth. 

“A-ah… slowly…” she moans.

You start moving your head up and down her cock, your tongue providing a warmth to her cock. The sudden warmth from your mouth heightened the pleasure even more, causing her to roll her eyes all the way to the back of her head. 

“U-ugh more…” she begged, hand now on the back of your head, gripping it tightly.

Her hand didn’t do anything beside gripping it, allowing you the freedom to go at your own pace. At first it was slow, intimate… but it grew quicker as her grip tightened. 

Your head bobbed up and down faster, saliva coating her member even further. Her grip around you tightened even further, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. The pressure of her hands was a silent command, urging you to keep going. And you did.

Your mouth wrapped around her so beautifully she couldn’t stop staring. Her eyes eagerly followed yours, enjoying the sight of you. It didn’t help that your hands were gripping her hips so strongly, increasing the experience even more. 

It didn’t take long for her to finally reach her climax, allowing her fluids to spill into your mouth. Your mouth felt so full that spit… and some of her cum was flowing out of the small gap between your mouth and her. Then, you pulled away, trying to save all the cum. 

Without warning, you swallowed it all in, surprising her, but the look in her eyes told you everything, you had given her exactly what she needed, and she appreciated it more than words could express.

[beloveds-embrace]

NORTHERN DUKE KÖNIG STEALING DUCHESS PRICE PT 2 !! Where he finally puts his plans into action and maybe gets a moment alone with the duchess and confesses his feelings and maybe she tells him she's been wanting an escape because she's been trapped in a loveless marriage and has lost hope on John ever loving her so she's 100% on board with his plan. Maybe König even tells her that he doesn't believe in the rumors of her being barren, that he thinks it's John whose infertile only for the duchess to reveal she hasn't slept with John at all and idk maybe Konig becomes angry with how neglected she's been and makes an intense vow to never leave her unsatisfied.. mentally, emotionally, physically 😏.

The garden was silent beneath the heavy cloak of snow, save for the crunch of your boots as you followed Duke König down the winding path. Lanterns lit the walkway, their golden glow casting long shadows against the frost-kissed hedges and frozen roses.

It was beautiful. Quiet. Safe.

But your pulse pounded in your ears. König hadn’t spoken since he’d asked you to walk with him, and the weight of his silence filled the space between you like smoke.

You stopped beside a stone bench, your breath curling in the cold air. “Your Grace?”

He turned sharply at the sound of your voice, his pale blue eyes catching the light and glowing like ice under a full moon. For the first time, you saw something raw there- uncertainty, vulnerability, and something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

“I cannot keep this to myself any longer, Duchess,” He said, voice low and rough.

Your lips parted, but he stepped closer, towering over you with a presence that stole your breath.

“I have tried to resist it,” König continued. “To be honorable, to keep my distance- but it is impossible when every moment apart from you feels like torment.” His gloved hand brushed your cheek, hesitant and reverent, as though he thought you might disappear if he touched you too firmly.

You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity in his gaze.

“Your Grace…”

“Tell me I am not mad,” he pleaded, soft and fervent. “Tell me I am not imagining this connection between us.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightened. “You’re not.” You whispered.

Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, but it didn’t temper the fire in his eyes. He cupped your face with both hands, his calloused thumbs brushing over your skin as if memorizing the very shape of you.

“Then come with me,” he said fiercely. “Let me take you away from all of this.”

Your breath hitched, eyes wide. “You mean… leave John?”

His lips curled in frustration. “A man who does not deserve you,” he snapped. “Who parades you around as a trophy while the world whispers lies about you. Who neglects you so cruelly that you-” He stopped, exhaling sharply as if the thought pained him. “You deserve more.”

You swallowed, your voice trembling. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hold back the next words that poured out. How many nights have you spent in the aching loneliness of your bedroom, aware that your husband merely tolerated you out of necessity and nothing else?

“I know.”

König froze, searching your face. “You… know?”

You nodded, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “I’ve wanted to escape for so long. I just… I didn’t think anyone would ever care enough to take me away.”

His expression twisted, anguished and furious. “Care enough?” he repeated, dangerous. “I would burn kingdoms for you.”

A sob broke from your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him, letting him pull you into the warmth of his embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he could shield you from the world. There was something so delightful, so safe, in the way he held you so wholly- hiding you in his arms from all the world.

“But what if the rumors are true?” you whispered against his chest, saying aloud the doubts that have started to take root in your mind from hearing all the rumors swirling about you. “What if I can’t give you the future you want? What if I can’t give you children?”

König pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands bracketing your face. “I don’t believe the rumors,” he said firmly. “Not for a second. It is Price who is unworthy- he is the one who has failed you, mein Liebe, not the other way around.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. “He hasn’t failed me because we’ve never even tried.”

König stilled, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

You looked away, ashamed. “We’ve never lain together. Not once.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

König’s hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders trembling with barely contained rage. “Not once?”

You flinched at the venom in his tone, but when you looked back at him, there was no anger directed at you- only heartbreak.

“He’s treated you like this?” König growled. “As though you are unworthy of his attention, his affection? Like a possession to be displayed but never cherished?”

The tears were freely flowing now, and no verbal confirmation was needed.

A guttural sound rumbled in König’s chest, his fury barely leashed. “He has neglected you. Deprived you.” His voice dropped, dangerously soft. “I swear to you, I will never make that mistake.”

You blinked up at him, startled.

He stepped closer, his presence alone overwhelming. “I will never leave you unsatisfied- mentally, emotionally, or physically.” His voice was a vow, sharp and unyielding, not allowing any space for doubt. “You will never have to wonder if you are loved, worshiped.”

The heat in his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t step away. If anything, you leaned closer, tearful eyes wide.

“Say you’ll come with me,” König urged, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Say you’ll let me take you away from this emptiness and give you the life you deserve. Be my Duchess.”

Your breath caught. This was a horrible decision- you couldn’t imagine what would be said about you, about König, what your parents might do, what John might do-

“Yes.”

König didn’t wait. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and desperate, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long. You melted into him, clutching at his coat as he deepened the kiss, claiming you with every stroke and sigh.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, and his eyes burned with promise.

“Two days from now,” he said. “I will send that Narr your divorce papers, and I will take you away from this nightmare.”

And for the first time in years, hope bloomed in your chest.

[wosoloml]

— second chance || emily fox x reader

[ “I messed up by breaking up with you, because ever since then, I’ve been missing you everyday.” ]

summary: After having her heart broken by Emily, the reader decided to seize the opportunity for a fresh start in her career by moving to London. Little did she know, her worst nightmare wasi about to come true. But sometimes, nightmares have a way of transforming into the sweetest of dreams.

from this request

wc: 1,744 words. | masterlist

warnings: fluff, mention of heartbreak, angst, secret flirtings, jealousy, happy end

——-

"There is no future for us. I need to leave," were the last words Emily said to me as she walked out of our apartment. Well, not our apartment anymore.

This was the last thing I expected when I came home after interviewing the local handball team, excited to share some amazing news I had received at work.

I walked in with the biggest smile on my face, and we both said at the same time, "I want to talk to you about something." Little did I know that by the end of the conversation, I’d be alone in what used to be our home.

Usually, I’m the one who shares big news first, but this time, I decided to let Emily go ahead. I thought she’d need time to process the fact that the Arsenal Football Club had offered me a position on their media team. Letting her start felt like the considerate thing to do.

What a mistake that turned out to be.

If I’m honest, I don’t even remember how I survived the first night. Curled up in my bed, crying my eyes out, and consumed by the question, "Why?"

Everything began a few years ago when we met at UNC. It started with a little crush on the athletic girl, stealing glances every time we passed each other in the hallway.

After months of back-and-forth and a lot of help from our friends Alessia and Lotte, we finally started dating. It was never easy, especially with football becoming such a big part of Emily’s life, but she always treated me like I was the girl of her dreams. I couldn’t have been happier.

Doing long-distance was a significant challenge for us. She signed her first professional contract with Racing Louisville FC, while I was just starting my first year at the sports journalism academy. But our love was always stronger—stronger than any distance or circumstances. We were supposed to be a team.

Everything became so much easier and better when she finally moved back after joining North Carolina Courage. It felt like the greatest relief.

For days after she told me she was coming back, I fell asleep and woke up with the biggest smile on my face.

Eleven months, two cats, and one apartment later, here I am—without anything. I lost the love of my life simply because she "needed to focus on her career."

We were a team, but now she preferred a solo performance.

She was even too cowardly to come here and pick up her things when I was home. The only message I got from her was:

"When does your shift start, so I know when to get my stuff?"

- EF

EF? Is she serious? We spent the last six years together, went through everything, and shared so many firsts. And the only thing she adds to her message are her initials?

It's pathetic.

---

At 9:00, I arrived at the base camp of THE Arsenal Women's Football Club for this year's training camp in Spain.

It’s been a year and a half since I made the decision to start fresh and begin a new life. A year and a half since a certain American girl broke my heart. Coming to London was the best decision I ever made.

One of my closest friends from college is here with me. Without Lessi and Lotte’s support in those early months, I don't know where I'd be. I came to London with nothing but two cats and a suitcase. Now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

"Y/N!!" I heard a familiar voice shout my name. As I turned around, I saw my favorite defender.

"Lottee, my girl!" I grinned, my smile growing wider as I pulled her into a tight hug.

"How’s my favorite girl? Ready for today’s media day? The first one during training camp in Spain?"

She chuckled. "I can’t wait to get sunburned. You know my British skin isn’t used to that much sun."

As I followed Lotte to her first media date of the day, we passed the changing room, and I suddenly heard a familiar voice. My heart stopped. This can't be real. No, it's not real—maybe I just overheard something.

"What's up, Y/N?" Lotte immediately noticed the shift in my behavior, but I tried to play it cool.

"Nothing. I just thought I heard someone's voice, but that can't be real," I replied.

She nodded, but I could sense a slight change in her mood.

I’m just paranoid. That’s it, for sure.

"Y/N? Could you possibly anchor the 'First Day at Arsenal' segment with our new signing today? It's not public yet that she transferred to London, but we wanted to take advantage of our training camp in Spain to shoot some nice scenes," the media team leader said.

I looked at him, confused. "I didn't know we got a new signing."

"Really? Everyone knows that. Especially Alessia and Lotte Wubben-Moy—they already know her from previous teams. Funny, huh?"

No. I’m just paranoid again. I know it. This cant be happening.

---

"Hey y/n".

That's it. That's the moment I’ve been scared of the whole day. No, scratch that—I've been scared of it for the last 18 months.

I haven’t heard her voice since that specific day she left me in our old apartment. I thought I’d be okay hearing my name from her lips again. God, was I wrong.

"Since when are you here?" I had to hold myself back from laughing at my own question. The first thing I asked her after she cut me out of her life was when she came to Arsenal. If someone had told me this morning that I’d say that, I would’ve laughed in their face.

"My plane from North Carolina landed this morning. It’s not official that I’ve transferred, but they decided spontaneously that I could join the girls here at camp already. I didn’t know you were working here, I promise. I would’ve told you about the transfer."

It’s over for me now. A small chuckle escaped my lips. "You would’ve told me? What would you have said to me? 'Hey, Y/N, by the way, I’m moving to the club where you work, after destroying your life a year and a half ago. Ready to ruin your new life too?' Because that’s what you’re doing right now. You’re destroying my new life. I came to London with nothing. But not with me, Emily. This time, you won’t take everything from me. This is my home."

I slightly shouted at her. She just stared at me. I’m done with her now. Turning around, I left.

---

As the days pass, I have to admit that maybe I’m not completely over her.

It all began when we both became nervous around each other during the "First Day at Arsenal" segment, and it continued with secret touches on the beach and our eyes searching for each other in a room full of teammates and staff.

It’s been difficult to admit that I still get butterflies when she’s near, and that this chapter isn’t as closed as I once thought. Am I ready to let her in again? She hurt me in a way no one else ever has, and that’s something I’ll never forget. But I just miss her, that’s all. Nothing more... or is there more?

It was our last evening in Spain, and the entire staff and team went out for drinks at a local bar. This time, my mind wasn’t occupied by a certain brunette American.

Instead, it was an Irish defender who caught my attention.

It wasn’t the first time Katie McCabe and I had spent time together outside of work. I wouldn’t exactly call it flirting, but we always had a good time laughing together. She knows how to talk to a woman, and let’s just say she’s not hard on the eyes either, so it’s a win-win situation, isn’t it?

When Katie rested her hands on my waist, it was enough to set Emily off. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me outside. I was too stunned by her actions to even react.

"Is she your new girl?" she asked, her voice sharp. I had to hide a smirk.

"What do you mean, Emily?"

"You heard me. Is Katie McCabe your new girlfriend?" I chuckled again, maybe a bit tipsy from the drinks Katie had bought for me.

"No."

Emily didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes.

"Then explain to me why you’re giggling at every statement she makes and why the hell are her hands allowed on your body?"

My face grew serious. "What’s this, Emily? Are you jealous of someone who’s just being friendly? You? The one who ended this relationship, if I may remind you?"

That was it. That was the boiling point for Emily.

"I messed up by breaking up with you, because ever since then, I’ve been missing you every single day," she shouted, her voice frantic. My eyes widened, and my heart melted at her words.

Without thinking, I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

"Finally!" Lotte and Alessia cheered from inside the bar. Finally.

The plane landed in London. Coming back home, my hands locked with the girl I’ve always loved. This is us now—forever.

[rafesplaymate]

Off to the Races

Chapter iv- Date Night (part 1)

Older!Rafe Cameron x Stepdaughter!reader.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ navigation. ੈ✩‧₊˚ masterlist. ੈ✩‧₊˚ series masterlist.

warnings: infidelity (emotional / physical). pseudo / stepcest. dom / sub dynamics. dd / lg dynamics. man-handling. groping. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: finally updating. date will be broken into two parts to build up tension for storyline. enjoy!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By the time Rafe is finished getting dressed, putting the finishing touches on himself —the sun is barely settling. Pouring out a beautiful orange haze over Kildare that makes the environment feel all too dreamy. Making him all the more excited for his night alone with his girl, the knowledge that his wife was out of the house satisfying his desire to be alone with his darling girl. He spritzes a couple sprays of colonge over himself before securing his black ‘rolex’ and the gold chain his wife bought him as a wedding gift. A nice gold cuban link that cost her a pretty penny. The memory of receiving it ingrained in his head; reminding him he married her almost 6 months ago and how in fourth months their marriage has changed so drastically.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The night she gifted him the chain —they’d be in an ambiance of passion. Newlywed, honeymooning in Bora Bora for 2 weeks. Days of passionate sex and meaningful conversations. Strengthening their bond and pushing it over the line of surfaced attraction and reasonings for union. They’d been eating dinner when she presented him it to him, smiling with red painted lips as she watched him open the red velvet box. His eyes widening with intrigue at the opulent piece of jewelry, while she uttered a, “I know how you like chains.” He looked at her with a side smile and grabbed her by the face. Pressing a long and soft kiss to her lips while they smiled into each other —whispering a sweet thank you.

In the moment he’d felt like he was actually sure this was true love. Taking her on their hotel bed, his body laid on top of hers as he buried his face in her neck all night. It wasn’t crazy or intense, but it was satisfying. And it fulfilled him in the moment. His mind pensive with the thought that his days of passionate love-making was over. But he could handle that, because the long-term end goal was something he was willing to build and sacrifice for. Or so he thought at the time.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Now almost 4 months later everything has changed. A complete 180° over taking Tannyhill the moment y/n came bounding into his life. The day his body, heart and soul burned ablaze —her the flame. She completely and irrevocably changed his life, in so many ways. Leaving an indelible mark on his heart. The love he once felt for his wife dissipating by the day as the love he has for his darling girl builds like an uncontrollable flame every, single day. Leaving him feeling subdued and put out whenever she’s not near him —needing her presence like a fish needs water. His mood soured and snappy whenever she’s not hanging off his arm or napping on his office couch while he works.

His stepdaughter is the the most valuable treasure he’s ever found —even more valuable than the royal merchant everyone’s constantly chased around Kildare. Him included at one point. The high of needing that fortune now replaced with something he cherishes way more. Something he wants to keep locked away in his home and near him for the rest of his life; feeling that her beauty and presence alone was too priceless for the leering looks of everyone on the island.

So now as he finally finishes, adjusting his sleek black blazer. Running a hand over his shaved head as he opens the bedroom door. He shuts it behind him, shuffling softly to stand right in front of his stepdaughter’s bedroom door. Listening intently against it and smiling softly to himself as he heard her melodic voice softly singing along to music. What he assumes is makeup products clacking around as she gets ready. He taps a bent index finger two times on the door, leaving small but loud enough knocks. Listening as the music lowered slightly and her sweet voice letting out an inquisitive, “who is it?" Rafe replies almost immediately with a, “you good, princess?” He waited for a response, nothing coming out for a second and his mouth was already opening to ask again —when the door opened. In that moment, Rafe’s blazing body reignited with an intensity —his stomach and chest burning with a potency that almost felt like it hurt.

There she was. His beautiful, little stepdaughter —the apple of his eye. Wearing nothing but a ‘Victoria’s Secret’ robe, the middle undone and exposing the expanse of her body. Yet, covering the parts he was dying to get a glimpse of. Cursing himself for leering on his darling girl but how could he not? She stood there with her pretty eyes already on him, makeup done flawlessly. Their eyes holding onto each other’s for a second as tension noticeably built —once more. His eyes darkening with indisputable lust as he stares into her decorated ones. Hers echoing his as she took him in as well. He held her eyes for a good second, before they began wandering down. First falling on her glossy, pale-pink lips that look every bit as bite-able as they do in his daydreams. His eyes trailing lightly over the soft skin of her delicate neck that makes him want to sink his teeth in. The chain of the white-gold, diamond encrusted initial necklace he bought her sitting wrapped around it. But it’s when his eyes began following it down, did his jaw tick and a harsh breath left him.

There sat the diamond initial between her perky breast, gleaming against her smooth skin that sparkled with body glitter. His eyes moving to both sides of it slowly as he took in the peaks hidden behind the satin layer of robe. Lingering on them as he took in her nipples just barely covered by the ends of the robe. Fuck. They sat there so enticingly; the rationality in his brain fighting with him that he was leering at his stepdaughter. Overpowered by his lustful need as his chest sucked in with a harsh breath and his eyes continued their journey over the flawless architecture of her body. A temple he fought with the desire to defile.

He shakily breathed out as his eyes then wandered down her beautiful torso that was sexily decorated with silver body glitter, each ridge of it looking so alluring —valleys he wanted to explore with the tips of his fingers. His eyes wandering to the peak between her soft thighs decorated with white, lace that did almost nothing to cover it. Her thighs glistening with some kind of oil and glitter; that made him want to grip them in his hands and dig in until grape-sized bruises the shape of his fingertips were engraved in her skin. His eyes falling lower till they landed on her pretty french-tipped toes; her right ankle decorated with her preferred white-gold anklet. The same toes he wants to kiss presses to every time she walks around barefoot or has them decorated with rings.

His lips pursed in a soft, low whistle as he finally broke the long —suffocating silence that overtook them. Cobalt eyes snapping back to hers with a lustful glare. Watching as she bit her lip and her turned in knee swayed, her pretty eyes returning his same lustful glare as the corner of her plump lips quirked in a devious smile. “Hi daddy,” she finally breathed out, her soft voice full of seductive undertone. Her head tilting to the side as she pushed her chest out; nipples threatening to expose as the fabric moved along with her movements. Heat built in-between her thighs after taking in her stepfather the same way he did her.

Rafe’s pink lips quirked into a satisfied smirk at her acknowledgment and the title she’s so rightfully granted him. Bringing a ringed hand to scratch his chin as his bottom lip curling over his bottom teeth; a small scoff leaving him. He walked closer to her, reaching his arms out quickly and wrapping them around her. Holding eye contact as his left hand wrapped around her lower back. Landing on top of her perky butt, and digging his tips in as he pulled to his chest roughly. A small gasp falling from her sparkly lips as he pressed her tightly against him. Her robe falling open with his movements and pressing against the fabric of his shirt. Moaning as her sensitive nipples brushed against the fabric of his black button up. Internally satisfied with the reaction he’s given her.

While his right hand dug into her hair, gripping at her scalp tightly as he pulled her head back and her hair cascaded over his arm. Another gasp falling from her lips, this time pained as he shuffled them forward into her bedroom. His eyes holding hers as he man-handled her forward. Walking her until she was in front of her vanity, hand now gripping her ass and giving it a harsh squeeze before he roughly turns her around. Her robe flailing open with his movements as he faces her to the large mirror of her vanity that shined with led lights on the edges. His hands sat where her waist pinched in, squeezing roughly and feeling the soft grip of skin under his palm. His fingers digging in roughly.

He then moves his right hand back into her hair, forcing her to look into the mirror at herself. His large frame towering over her smaller body as he lowered his head to her left, to level their eye contact. Running the tip of his nose over her silky hair and taking in the sweet smell of her vanilla shampoo —shutting his eyes in satisfaction. Running it all the way down to her temple and then down her cheek with his eyes closed, tugging her head to the right harshly as she let out another soft, pained gasp. His nose then running over her jawline before finally finding its way down her neck; pressing in deeply and sniffing before letting out a harsh purr that vibrated in his chest. Her expensive perfume enticing him, but it was her natural scent that overtook him so much more.

He stayed there for a cool second as she watched him in the mirror, watching as he nuzzled his face into her. His hand on her waist reaching around and covering her stomach to press her right against him —into his erection. Her face contorted in pleasure as she reached her left hand back to cradle his head against her, scratching his scalp with her nails affectionately —while reaching her right hand back and digging into his thigh. Pressing herself against the rock-solid erection pressed right in between her ass. Eyes fluttering shut as she let out a soft moan. The sound causing him to let out a soft groan of his own as his lips then brushed over the expanse of her neck all the way to her shoulder.

He brought his left hand to grip her bare breast, harshly fondling it as he pressed a kiss to her smooth shoulder. Eyes opening and glaring at her lustfully through his eyebrows, watching as she writhed against him with pleasure. His grip on her hair tightened even more and tugged her head back, whispering a gruff “look at me.” That went ignored, she was too caught up in the feeling of his large hands fondling her. Something that not only delighted Rafe but frustrated him all the same, that she didn’t listen to him the first time. She always does.

“I fuckin’ said-“ his large ringed-hand that was fondling her body came to grip her neck; wrapping round it harshly —the desire to grip her face overcome by the knowledge that she will whine at him for ruining her makeup. “Look. at. me.” Squeezing the sides as she gasped louder and her eyes finally fluttered back open, faux lashes making them look oh-so-enticing. Slight tears building up from his handling and the heat of the moment. That’s when they finally made eye contact in her vanity mirror. And the sight in front of them was something that teetered their relationship further over the line of boundaries they loved to push.

Sure, she’d press her lips to his cheeks —as well as her tits to his chest every time he came home. Hard nipples poking against him as she lips a sloppy kiss on his cheek that leaves a glittery mark. Sure, maybe Rafe would meticulously rub sunscreen and tanning oil over her skin while she sat laid in front of him in the luxurious backyard of their home. His large hands leaving no inch unchecked under the guise of being thorough —long fingers daringly ghosting over her breast and the peak between her inner thighs so lightly it almost wasn’t there. And sure, they’ve definitely been tangled in his arms one too many times while he soothes her to sleep or cradles her while she cries about her mom. It’s nothing new for them to share affectionate caresses … but this.

This was something entirely different, and they both knew it. This wasn’t excessive affection under the guise of fatherly / daughterly love —no. This was primal impulse. The suffocating tension that constantly surrounds them being slightly cut into —just enough. The unspoken desire between them disguised by actions of parental affection. It was almost freudian. Yet, neither of them seemed to care. Not even a bit, not even at all. It was a blazing act of paroxysm that pushed them further to teetering off the cliff of their natural inclination toward each other. It felt like it was meant to be and it burned so deeply in both of them they would be branded for life.

After a long moment of unspoken words being exchanged through fiery glances; harsh breathes coming from both of them. Rafe finally let her throat go, his fist in her hair loosening at the same time. Pushing his body slightly back, pushing his erection away from her. He brought both hands to her waist; groping affectionately as he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. Their eyes still on each other, the heat in the room almost unbearable. Rafe then grabbed both sides of her robe, bringing them to overlap one another as he tied it back up for her gently. Pressing a couple more soft kisses to her head before finally turning her around to face him. Her eyes now softening and looking up at him with unadulterated adoration —his gazing into hers with the exact same earnest.

He cupped her face softly in his large hands; careful not to mess with her meticulously done makeup. Pressing the tip of his nose against hers lightly before nudging it slightly; turning their heads to the side as he pressed a soft lingering kiss to her pretty lips. Their eyes falling shut and a harsh breath leaving both of them. After a moment, he pulled back and smoothed his hand over the top of her head to fix her mused hair; giving her a soft smile and pinching her chin. His once lustful gaze now replaced with the same adoration he adorns for her everyday.

“The sun’s setting”, he finally spoke once more. His voice calm and in a low drawl, as if he hadn’t just spoken in her ear with a lustful grit mere moments before. He continued to stroke her chin with his thumb as she gave him her entire regard; hanging onto every movement and drawl from his lips. Her brain going fuzzy and shutting off as she lets her stepfather take reign of her entire being once more. “Should start getting dressed, princess.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips once more, “tonight’s going to be all about you.” He whispered lowly against her lips, brushing them against hers as they let out harsh breathes into each other. Her hands coming to grip the lapels of his blazer as she whined softly and pressed her self into him. Eyes fluttering shut as she sought out for more kisses. Falling completely into the man who consumed her entire being once more.

Rafe quirked an open mouth smile at her reaction to him, satisfaction settling in his chest with the knowledge that she’s just as whipped for him as he is her. Chuckling lowkey before stopping her movements, and pulling his head back. Watching as her beautiful eyes fluttered back open, another whine falling from her lips as her grip on his jacket tightened —confusion plastered along her gorgeous features. He just smirked down at her with a patronizing quirk of his lips, tapping her right cheek with his left hand a couple times lightly before turning her around once more. Smacking her on her ass lightly, but with a prominent clap as her pushed her toward her closet. Urging her to get dressed as he began strutting his way out of the room. Leaving her mind hazy and not completely there.

“Now, hurry up.” he called behind him as he walked out of her bedroom. His voice growing louder as he descended down the stairs. Shouting out one final, “you know dad doesn’t like waiting long. I have plans for us tonight, princess.” The promise of the night being all about them —about her driving her body into action. Quickly bouncing into her large closest with a pep in her step to get dressed, daydreaming briefly about a life where her and her stepfather were more than the title that was granted them for right now. Her music still playing lowly in the background.

“My old man is a bad man

But I can't deny, the way he holds my hand

And he grabs me, he has me by my heart…”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n: phew! i am so sorry this took so long i lowkey lost motivation, but we’re so back baby. i hope yall aren’t too made i broke this up into two parts. yes the series is based off “off to the races” by lana. i wanted to build up tension. as always any feedback is always deeply appreciated. much love.

taglist: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @iknowdatsrightbih @inthelibrarybtw @pretty-pink-princess @enjoymyloves @stoned-writer @rafesfuckdoll @unrealmirrorball @khaibdl @idksmtms @queenvane64 @xoxohoneymoongirl @vogueprincess @loonysbarn @heartsforrafecam @cl4uus @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlelamy @sunset-euphoria @slut-4-gojo @katekells @theater-bitch @faephoria @slutforlanadelslay @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @drewsphwife @rafeysangelbaby @wearemadeofstardust0 @inthelibrarybtw @adrianalovesevispresley @theeternaloptimistt

if i’m missing anyone pls lmk >.<

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn't resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Busy?” Vivica hums with doubt. “Again.” 

“Sorry, Vic, I just... can’t,” you roll your eyes at your reflection. No, the eye liner is too much. You think mascara’s fine. 

“What’s going on?” Her voice rises from your phone as it rests amid the mess of your bathroom counter. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been kind of a bitch.” 

She isn’t wrong. You twist the wand of the mascara and pop it from the tube. You sigh. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Better reason for you all to go without me,” you say. “I don’t want to bring you down.” 

“Hm, fine,” she lets her disappointment through. “But you’re getting coffee with me soon. I’m worried.” 

You nod and brush through your lashes. “I’ll let you know what I’m free.” 

You sniff as she tuts noisily. “Fine, I’ll wait.” 

“Go, have fun,” you insist. “Text you later.” 

“Right, sure.” 

You tap the red button and the call ends. You slide the wand into place and twist the mascara shut. You fighting a losing battle here. You drop the tube and throw your head back, heaving out a breath. 

You don’t even know why you’re doing this. It’s a joke. A date? You’ll just be letting down one more person. You hate to waste Curtis’ time. Hence, why you haven’t told anyone about it. You don’t need them to know about another fuck up. 

The phone buzzes. You roll your eyes and press your fingerprint to the screen to unlock. You expect another long lecture typed out by Vivica, instead, it’s Curtis. Is he already here? No, you’re not ready. You bend to read his message. 

‘Hey, if you got em, wear sneakers or hiking boots.’ 

You squint. Huh? Is he taking you on a hike? Wow. Well, you suppose you deserve that kind of effort. Besides, you’re really not in the mood for a crowded restaurant where you have to pretend to know the appetizer sharing etiquette. 

‘I can dig some out’ you type back. 

You step back and sift through your sparse make up. You pick out a shade of lip gloss closest to your natural hue. Is it really necessary? Why are you even trying? You know how this ends. You pop your lips and snap the cap into place. 

Maybe he’s a murderer. Somehow, that doesn’t scare you. Even as the pieces seem to fall into place. He’s taking you out alone. Somewhere he’s kept a surprise, and he told you to bring sporty shoes. You expect you might be running from an axe in the woods soon enough. Not such a dire end considering. 

You shake off the absurd thought. You don’t want to look like you went overboard. Curtis has been so casual about all of this. Yeah, casual. Just put on something simple. 

The black jeans could easily be mistaken for nicer pants. The turtleneck isn’t too much either. Blue cotton with little white daisies. You’ll put a cardigan over it and pull on your hiking boots. Wow, a dream come true. A date in Sorel avant garde. 

Your nerves begin to go wild. You don’t know why. It’s not a real date, it’s a courtesy. He asked so you might as well just go. You grab your phone and wait on the couch, a youtube video babbling unheard from the television. 

Your phone vibrates. You sit up. It’s Curtis. 

‘Here. I think.’ 

‘I’ll come down’. You type back. 

You get up and hurry around. You grab your crossbody bag and your keys. You shoulder out the door and lock it behind you. Your phone buzzes once more. 

‘Right by the door.’ 

You come out and look around, searching the cars parked along the curb. Your attention is drawn back to the motorcycle between an SUV and Honda Accord. You approach Curtis as he hugs a second helmet under his arm. 

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers the helmet. 

You take it as you process the full picture. The matte black tank, the leather saddle bags in the same shade as his jacket and gloves, the steel gray exhaust and thick tires. You nod. 

“Not at all.” 

“I shoulda warned you,” he says. 

“I’ve been on one before,” you assure him as you pull on the helmet and loop the strap under your chin. 

“Oh?” 

“I know, I don’t look like the type. I’m not.” You flip the visor down. 

“Ah, well, whoever he was, hope he didn’t spoil the ride completely,” he says, “get on.” 

He turns and straddles the bike, kick back the stand. You hesitate then reach for his arm. You climb up behind him and swing your leg over. You wince as you land on the seat. Ouch, you’re still a bit sore down there. 

“Gonna have to hang on tight,” he pats his side. 

“Sure, uh... right.” 

You hook your arms around him. This is an easy gag for a man. Get a woman nice and close under the fear she might become road kill. Slick. 

“You ready?” He rolls the bike towards the street. 

“Ready,” you assure him. 

He starts the motor and revs. He angles around and speeds off down the road. You pull yourself closer as the wind tunnels around you. The smell of leather fills your nose as you close your eyes. It’s not awful, is it? 

When you look again, you’re head towards the town line. You watch the trees grow thicker as he steers along the country roads. That paranoia rises again. It would be just your luck. Look what happened the other night. 

You lift your head and peek over his shoulder. He rides up to a farm and comes a halt. He plants his feet in the dirt and kills the engine. A thrum lingers in your muscles as the roar of the bike dulls your hearing. 

“We’re here,” he proclaims. 

You take his cue. You get off first and he parks the bike with a kick of the stand. You wiggle the helmet off and look up at the farmhouse and the barn further back. Your brows pinch together curiously. 

“It’s not that lame, I promise.” He takes your helmet and hangs it with his on the handle bar.  “Friend of mine owns the place. He let me have it for the night.” 

“Mhm, good friend.” 

“Yeah, he can be,” he removes the saddlebags from the back of the bike and waves you on. “That way, just around the back.” 

You nod and turn away. You stride up along the side of the house. It’s an old-fashioned place. Faded wood and peeling paint. You pause before you can pass it completely. You look back at him as he nearly runs into you. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

You look him in his stormy gray eyes, “you’re not going to kill me, right?” 

He snorts and his cheek dimples. “I can’t guarantee no blood but that’s far from the plan.” 

You frown. What a strange answer.

You shrug and turn back to your path. You come out around the back of the house, sown fields in the early stages of growth behind a large board painted with circles. A ply wood target. A picnic table across from it with a clutter over one half. You cross your arms as you near. 

“Hatchet throwing,” he puts the saddle bags on the table. “Thought it would be fun. Something a little less... crowded.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head like a squawking crow. 

He lifts one of the axes and holds it up. “Good stress relief.” 

“Mm,” you reach for one, less confident in your grasp. 

He turns to the target and extends his arm towards it. “You wanna keep a light but sturdy grip,” he says. “You don’t want it to catch.” 

He bends his arm back and swings it ahead again, letting the hatchet fly with easy. You flinch as it thunks into the target, just off-center. Your lips slant. 

“You got a lot of experience?” 

“Well, I started with darts at the bar but didn’t like all the drunks. There’s a place you can pay to do this in town but it’s pricey and loud,” he says. “So... I put this together.” 

“Yeah, probably not worth the money.” The words hang in the air, a question whether you mean the activity or yourself. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Uh, oh,” push your bag behind you and look at the target. “I...” You raise your arm, try to line up your aim, then drop it down. “I can’t.” 

“You want a few tips?” 

“Think I need them.” 

“Alright, no problem. It’s no biggy. Worst that happens, it lands in the dirt.” He comes close and lightly guides you by your shoulders, standing you perpendicular to the target. “Alright, bring it up.” 

You raise your arm and he helps you line up. He gets even closer and nudges your feet with his scuffed boots to get you in position. “That’s it, just like that.” 

You grip the axe tighter and your eyes widen. Those words hit you like the blade, slicing deep. The body on top of yours, his rasping cooes, and his cruel thrusts. You blink away the vision of Hugh and shudder. 

“Here,” Curtis touches your hand, “loosen up. Pull back. Yeah, you got it.” He steps back, “when you’re ready, let it fly.” 

He stands away from you and watches. You bite down and stare at the target. All your frustration and fear bubbles in your chest. You narrow your eyes and take a breath. You fling the hatchet without restraint. The thunk in the wood is deafening. 

Curtis whistles, “wow, good shot.” 

You turn straight to examine the board. Your shot is opposite of his, right on the line with the bullseye.  

“Lucky,” you say. 

“I dunno, you seem like a natural,” he crosses the ground and pulls out the hatches. “Wanna toss a few more? Build up an appetite?” 

“Uh, sure,” you agree. “It is kind of fun.” 

“I think so. Even more when you have company,” he approaches and offers the hatchet. “I packed a picnic so we won’t have to chew on seeds.” 

You glance at the sprouting fields. You laugh. It was a little fun. 

“Got one,” he spins the hatchet in his hand. “You go first. Since you won first round.” 

“What? No I didn’t.” 

“You were closer so... that’s a win. Champ.” 

“Alright, no need for the sarcasm,” you shake your head. 

“I’m a sore loser,” he winks. “So, take it easy on me and I might lighten up.” 

🎯

The rumble of the engine stays with you as you climb off the bike. Curtis cuts the engine and flips down the stand. He takes off his helmet as you descend back to earth. Literally. Somehow in those last three hours or so, he kept the world from invading your mind. 

“That was nice,” he says. “I think.” 

You hold the helmet in your hands, a good way to keep them still. You look down and crack a smile. He hangs his on the bike. 

“Another one huh?” He says and you pop your head up. “Got another smile.” 

You blush and shake your head, “I don’t know. I guess.” 

“You had fun?” He asks. 

“I did,” you contend and hand over the helmet. “Thanks. For everything.” 

“No, thank you.” He holds the helmet at his side and stares at you. The streetlights cast ominous shadows over him. He shifts so his sole scrapes the ground. “I hope maybe we can do it again.” 

“Er...” you’re struck by the suggestion. Again? Like a second date. That can’t be real. Not after everything. Oh bitter irony. “Sure, Curtis. I think next time I could let you win.” 

“Yeah, next time,” he rasps. He leans in and you realise what’s happening. He’s going to kiss you. Oh. 

“Ugh, oh,” you trip on nothing and hop up on the curb. “Oops, sorry, it’s so dark out here.”  

He recoils and clears his throat, “yeah, uh, you want me to walk you to the door?” 

“Uh, no, no,” you put your palms up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.” 

“Alright,” he says despondently. “Have a good night.” 

“Yeah, you too.” 

“I’ll text,” he mutters. 

“I’ll answer.” 

You spin and cringe at your building. You suck. You're a dork. Ew. Ew. Ew. 

You march up the walk and don’t stop until you’re inside. You blew it. So close but so far. Just like you expected. Well, then you can be that disappointed. 

You retreat to your apartment and slam your phone down. You won’t think about it. He has to drive home and he won’t text tonight anyway. You just hate a date. A date! 

Was it really real? After everything? You think so. 

You sink onto the couch. You hold your chin and pick your lip. Just another day and you’d be in la la land. This would be heaven. One more day and you may have let him kiss you. Before you were used up and tarnished. 

Ugh. Why couldn’t you have just let it happen? Because those things don’t happen to you. Romance isn’t for you. It’s for other people. And people lie. Even Curtis. Maybe he won’t text after all. 

You lean back and turn on the television in resignation. You put on an early 00s sitcom with a sadly departed main star. That’s how life is. When it’s good, it goes wrong, or it’s just over. When it’s bad, that’s when it seems eternal. 

You cross your legs then think better of that. Even with all the lube, there’s a lot of damage done. Nothing serious, just sensitive. It was your first time. You don’t imagine it gets better. 

Your phone buzzes at the end of episode two. You nearly jump off the sofa. Don’t be stupid. 

You get up, patiently, and get your phone. You sit down again before you unlock it. The message that comes up isn’t from Curtis. Or Vivica. Or Mila. Or Jerrod. 

It’s from WhatsApp. You only ever used that for... 

‘You lookin’ for another weekend fling?’ 

You stare at Hugh’s message. You deleted the conversation but you recognise the number. The two checkmarks turn green to show you’ve read the message. God dammit. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re mortified. You crash back to earth with startling speed. You can’t undo that. Worse, you don’t think you’ll ever get past it. 

You clear all your apps and put your phone on do not disturb. 

You stretch out on the couch and focus on the TV. Not really. It just glares in your vision as you stare through it. As you can hear nothing but a distant whistle. You stay like that, fractured, until your consciousness slowly falls away. 

You’re back in the hotel room. Alone one minute then pinned to the bed. The ceilings tear open as Hugh fucks you. You’re gushing around him, the smell of blood fills the air with iron. You meld with the blankets, shrouded in them, then suddenly thunder roars through the space. 

Curtis rides in on his motorcycle. How? A hatchet flies and hit the headboard, glancing by your cheek. You look past Hugh’s writhing body, completely oblivious of the other’s man disgusted glares. 

“Slut.” 

The word wakes you. You jolt up and hold your head dizzily. The windows are glazed over with the soft tones of morning. You groan and turn your legs over the edge of the couch. 

You get up to make your coffee. The dark roast brew and the aroma eases your nerves. You grab you phone out of habit and sit down. You have another message. You put the phone down. 

You go back to the kitchen and fill a mug. You drink in silence. You take the cup into the bathroom and shower before you finish the dregs. As you sit to pee, you wince. It’s been a week. It’s still painful but you’re sure it’s all in your head. After all, your pride hurts worse than anything else. 

You rinse your cup, pick up your phone, and determine to delete the message. As the chat opens, you’re stopped by the image there. You nearly drop it. Instead, you lean on the counter is gasp. 

‘Thot I was ur 1st' the message reads beneath the photo of you and Curtis in the yellow cascade of the streetlight. 

The checkmark fills and three bubbles pop up. Fuck. The next text comes quickly. 

‘How would ur bf feel about u fucking strangers?’ 

‘Not my bf. Leave me alone.’ Your thumbs tap furiously and you hit send. 

He sends a laughing emoji and the dots appear again. ‘I got a discount. Just 4 u.’ 

‘No thx. Not interested’ 

‘Didn’t ask don’t care but think I know who would’ 

You huff and hang your head back. You don’t get it. Why is he doing this? He got his fee and you got what you paid for. 

‘No. Pls don’t message again.’ 

You bring down the menu and delete the conversation and block the sender. It isn’t until after that that you realise. He took that picture outside your building. He knows where you live. How? 

The police? Would they do anything? Would they believe you? You just deleted the evidence. 

He’s bluffing right. He just wanted more money. You’re not stupid. Come on. You are a wallet to him, nothing more. You’re not naive enough to think he enjoyed it any more than you did. It’s business to him. He did his job and he got a pretty penny. If you could get that much for a few hours, you’d be hustling too. 

It’s just a poor attempt at blackmail. A hail mary for any extra pay check. Too bad for him, you don’t have that type of money. You already splurge on regret. 

You’ll keep an eye over your shoulder but you really doubt it’s anything more than greed. He must have a dozen clients. Hm... that thought doesn't make feel you better. You don’t know that you’ll ever really feel good again. Did you ever before? 

📱

“I know it’s cliche but I told you, I’m not exactly the creative type,” you settle in at the table and look through the cafe window. 

“I told you, I trust your judgment. And can’t go wrong with coffee,” Curtis says. 

“Guess not, but I’ve had some shitty coffee in my day.” 

His cheek dimples and he tilts his head in agreement, “me too. I’m not some coffee snob but some of the water they serve around town.” 

“You’re talking about Smokey’s, right? They serve ash-flavoured piss. Oh, sorry, I...” you give a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.” 

“You’re right though,” he snorts. 

“Ha, thanks. Mila disagrees. She keeps trying to convert me.” 

“Sounds like Jensen but with those acid energy drinks. I told him, he’s going to have a heart attack.” 

“Ew, those things are worse. It’s like someone made mountain dew worse.” 

He chuckles. That doesn’t happen often. “Wow, I should bring you in as backup. Then he might actually listen.” 

The barista comes with your drinks and you thank her. You ordered a tea latte, not your usual fare. Curtis eyes it as he cradles his cup of dark roast between his large hands. 

“I’m not much of a tea person but that looks interesting.” 

“London Fog. Just very foamy Earl Gray,” you explain. 

“Ah,” he nods thoughtfully. Your bag vibrates and you elbow it back on your hip. Not right now, Mila. “Not to be socially awkward but you like horror movies?” 

“I like them but they still scare me,” you say. 

“Really? Something actually scares you?” 

“What do you mean?” You scoff. 

He stares at you. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know... what?” 

“You’re terrifyingly hard to read,” he says. “You’re so lock and key that it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. Easy to assume you want to scoop my guts out with a plastic spoon.” 

“I’m not much for slashers, I’m more into psychological scares,” you counter then catch yourself. You smile. “Sorry. I’m not... you know, I can be a bitch but I’m not really one.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.” 

“I know, I just don’t know how else to say... if I look at you like a rabid dog, I swear, I’m just thinking.” 

“Yeah, Jensen says I have RBF too.” 

“RBF?” You wonder. 

“Resting Bitch Face, although he started calling it Raging Curt Face.” 

You laugh. He does too. The last bit of ice melts away. 

“I’m on a roll today,” he says. “So I may as well ask, wanna come over and watch scary movies?” 

🍿

The mood is set. The curtains are drawn to darken the room and the television glows as the only source of light in the space. Not much of a beacon as the images on the screen remain in shadow as the grinding soundtrack drones from the speakers.

You sit on the couch, enthralled by the manic horror of the character’s shallow breaths. 

You jerk as something brushes over your shoulder. You quickly still yourself as you realise what it is. Curtis stretches his arm over your shoulders. 

“Scared yet?” He asks. 

You giggle, “only a little.” 

He stays close and you don’t push him away. It’s such a weird feeling. To have someone in your space but you don’t mind it. To be honest, it’s comforting. 

You stare at the screen as the tension builds. As a loud noise frightens you, you jolt and lean into Curtis. He curls his arm snug around you. Then the next startling twist comes and you turn your face into his shoulder. 

“You didn’t say you were a baby,” he teases. 

“Oh, hush,” you speak into his shirt. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he grits and brings his hand up under your chin. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.” 

You glower up at him and he sighs, “don’t look at me like that.” 

“How can you tell how I’m looking at you?” 

“I can feel it,” his thumb rubs your chin and he leans closer. 

You swallow as he keeps coming. You don’t stop him. You’re stuck. Your body won’t answer the screaming in your head. He presses his lips to yours and you let out a soft noise. He presses his mouth against yours for a moment then pulls away. 

He’s quiet as you puff you, your heart racing. “Was that okay?” 

You cough, “uh, yeah... sorry, I... I’m surprised.” 

“Can I do it again?” He asks. 

You quiver and nod, “sure.” 

He kisses you again. This time his tongue traces the crease of your lips. You open to him, unsure what you’re supposed to do. He delves within as he cradles your head and squeezes you closer. 

A warmth creeps up your body. Cozy at first. Intoxicating either. But it keeps burning. Hotter and hotter as his hand slithers down your back. His groan triggers a tickle in your brain and nearly bite down.  

You touch Curtis’ chest and urge him away. He reluctantly parts and slackens his hold on you. You stand up without a word. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

“I need your bathroom. Sorry.” 

You hurry away, staggering through the dark, and close the bathroom door behind you. You flip the light on and stomp to the tub, sitting on the porcelain as you drop your head into your hands. What the fuck? What is wrong with you? 

That wasn’t bad. It was great. You were getting somewhere. You were having a normal experience. It’s like you just can’t let yourself win. 

You smack your cheek, then your other. You do it a few more times before you sit up straight. God! What a disaster. What a stupid woman you are. You can’t even blame anyone but yourself. You did this to yourself. 

You ran away from Curtis. You came in here to mope. And you hired Hugh. 

No, don’t-- that’s not relevant. You’re forgetting that. It didn’t happen. You’re trying to move on. You can move on. Curtis doesn’t have to be your penance; he can be your antidote. 

There’s a knock at the door. You stare at the wood. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” Curtis asks. 

“Yep.” You call back. 

“I’m sorry if... if that was too much. If I went too fast,” he says. 

You huff and stand. You drag your feet to the door. You make yourself open it and face him. He turned the lights on. You ruined the night. 

“I think maybe I should just go. I’m sorry I spoiled the movie,” you say. He doesn’t move. 

“What? I paused it. It’s fine. We can finish it.” 

“No, Curtis, I’m just... I keep... aren’t you tired of me yet?” 

He shakes his head, “no, are you tired of me?” 

You clamp your lips and pop them in exasperation. “No.” That makes this harder. Because you aren’t tired of him. Because you do like him. 

“So why are you running away?” 

He grips the door frame. He’s a big man. He doesn’t have to let you leave but you know if you say you want to go, he will. For a moment, his size reminds you of another person. One who didn’t listen. One who didn’t hear your 'stop'. 

“This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to be honest otherwise you’ll just think I'm insane,” you throw your hands up. “I’ve never, uh, never... had... someone before. You know? Never been on any dates, er, until you.” 

He nods and his expression stays the same, “alright.” 

“So yeah...” 

He narrows his eyes, “is that it?” 

You stare at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.” 

“I don’t care about that. I care about us, you know? About right now. So then or whenever, it’s not important. But right now I can be patient. I can take it slow.” He drops his hand from the frame. “We can just watch the movie. That’s it.” 

You look down and slump, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he gently touches your arm. “I don’t want you to be sorry because you did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me.” 

You don’t say anything else. You’re too mortified to muster more than a grumble. You reach for the light switch but he stands as a wall between you and escape. 

“One more thing though,” he says, “I’m not just someone. I'm your boyfriend.” 

You falter and clasp your hands in front of your stomach, “boyfriend?” 

He smiles, “I can wait for my girl. That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” 

He offers his hand and you consider it as your lips curve without a thought.  You accept the offer and latch onto his large hand.  

“Guess I’ll find out,” you say.” 

[hotchs-bitch]

Cold December Night- Part 1

AN: Here it is, folks! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it <3 In true T fashion, it's named after a Michael Buble song (yes, a Michael Buble Christmas song. I'm done defending him). Find it on ao3 here, or under the cut!

Happy reading <3

Stockings are hung with care The children sleep with one eye open Well, now there's more than toys at stake 'Cause I'm older now but not done hoping

“No, Marcus! Fuck you!”

Hotch’s gaze darts towards the clock on the wall opposite his desk. 7:28pm. He’s usually the only person in the office at this hour, but he’s certain that he just heard an exclamation from the bullpen.

He straightens up in his seat to go investigate the noise; the motion-sensor lights of his office flicker on, and the bright LED is harsh compared to the warm orange lamplight he’s been working under. How long has it been since he last moved around?

Instead of thinking about that, he stands up with a stifled groan. He isn’t as young as he used to be, and these long nights of doing paperwork hunched over sitting on office chairs is certainly starting to catch up with him.

What else is he supposed to do? Go home and be alone during the holidays? Jack is old enough to have some say in the custody agreement, and he made it clear that he wanted to spend the next few weeks with Haley.

It had hurt, especially when Jack refused to tell his dad why he made the choice. It was like a knife through the heart, but it didn’t compare to the feeling in Aaron’s chest when he spoke to Haley about it.

“He’s afraid you’ll have to work. He doesn’t want to be alone on Christmas,” she had told him, as warm and empathetic as she had ever been, but it didn’t stop Aaron from feeling the knife in his heart as it twisted around.

He didn’t want to think about that, so he worked. He stayed late, worked long hours and took on extra consults, doing whatever he could to avoid his empty apartment that didn’t even have a Christmas tree or any decorations up.

And apparently, he isn’t the only one staying late tonight.

“You’re a piece of shit, do you know that?”

The voice rings out again, and Hotch approaches his office window. His door is wide open, but he can’t see anyone in the bullpen below. When he steps out of his office, he starts following the voice as the tirade continues. Down the steps into the bullpen, towards a cluster of desks tucked out of view of his office.

“We were supposed to go tomorrow. Tomorrow, you asshole. What the hell am I supposed to tell my family? What should I say to my mother?” There’s a brief pause, followed by a scornful laugh. “You wish. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Just as Hotch turns the corner and sees you drop your phone on the desk, he hears a sob. A weak sound, like you aren’t sure you want to make the noise but have to let it out anyway.

Oh, great.

Hotch prided himself on the interpersonal relationships of the BAU, between the other agents and with himself. Maybe he wasn’t exactly friends with the agents on his team, but that was fine. There was still a mutual respect and trust, one that he relied on in the field and did his best to maintain.

Except with you.

He didn’t really know why, truth be told. You had been warm and receptive upon first starting at the BAU, and it had been a nice few weeks. But overnight, for a reason Hotch didn’t understand, a switch had flipped. You started brushing off his greetings, ignoring his offers of coffee when he made a fresh pot, and generally leaving him feeling disrespected.

The exception, and the reason he hadn’t filed any kind of complaint about your behaviour, was fieldwork. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, and you never disregarded his theories the way you brushed off his opinions on things as simple as the weather. 

In the field, you could read each other’s minds. But the second your bulletproof vest came off, Hotch felt like he transformed back into someone you couldn’t care less about. Like the unit existed in Cinderella, and he turned into a pumpkin at midnight.

Despite it all, Hotch still tried to respect you and even to get along in the office. He didn’t treat you any differently in or out of the field, but with time and your repeated rebuffs of his attempts at friendliness, the attempts faded away and were replaced with a quiet acceptance that you just didn’t like him. As long as you didn’t disrespect him in the field, he knew it would be fine.

So when he comes across you in the bullpen, tucked away and sobbing into your hands, he has no idea what to do. Should he try to comfort you? Sneak back to his office and pretend he never heard a thing?

The decision is made for him when he shifts slightly and his knee pops audibly, a result of sitting the way he has been for hours.

The sound gets your attention, and you barely turn your head. It isn’t the confrontation he was expecting from you finding him eavesdropping, but your reaction makes more sense when he hears your voice.

It’s ragged, and tired. You sound defeated. “How much did you hear?”

Hotch keeps his voice low, quiet, hoping that his tone can calm you a little. “Not much. Cursing aside, just that you have to go somewhere tomorrow and don’t know what to tell your mother.”

He must be right, because you heave out the sigh of the century. “She’s always right. Do you have any clue how annoying that is? She hates every guy I date, and we fight about it, and then he turns out to be an even bigger douchebag than the guy before him. I was an idiot for thinking she’d be wrong about Marcus.”

That’s one family annoyance Hotch has never had to worry about; his father wasn’t right about a single thing in his life. “Marcus… is that your boyfriend?”

“He was. And then he got arrested for having sex in public.” It takes a half-second for Hotch to put together the pieces, but you fill him in just to be safe. “And it was with someone else. Obviously. He just called me to bail him out, and I told him to go to hell.”

Aaron can’t hold back his wince. “I’m sorry. Are you going to be alright?”

The scornful laugh he heard earlier punches out of you again, and you shake your head. You’re still turned away, but it’s easy to see when you rub your eyes. “We were supposed to visit my family for the holidays. They always make such a big deal out of it, too. I didn’t bring someone two years in a row, and you would have thought the world was ending. They were so happy I was bringing Marcus. They’ve never met him, only heard stories, and they were excited to actually get to know him. Now I have to go there alone, tell my mother she was right about him, and get silently judged by my extended family for a week. I’m in hell.”

If there’s something Aaron can relate to, it’s family judgement. Later, when he thinks back on this moment, he might blame his next sentence on that. He might blame it on the late hour and his recent lack of sleep, or he might blame it on something more subconscious, like how he doesn’t need to be home for Jack this year. No, not that. He doesn’t want to think about that.

Well, it doesn’t matter what he’s going to blame it on, because he still says it. “You could bring someone else.”

“Right, totally. I’ll just finish up this report and head over to Boyfriends-R-Us.” The sarcasm is dripping off of you, a thin layer to shield the vulnerability and hurt in your voice.

Aaron definitely isn’t going to think about this moment later, when he starts playing the blame game with his past self. But if he were to think about it at all, he would recognize the way his stomach clenches when he hears your voice crack, exposing the raw hurt under it. The way he sympathizes with that hurt, and wants to make it go away.

“I could help you out.”

It’s the first time in all the conversation that he sees your entire face; you turn around in your desk chair, giving him an incredulous look. You look vulnerable, upset, and he thinks he can detect a flash of hope in your eyes before you blink.

“What?”

“I can come with you. I’ll pretend to be Marcus–you said no one has met him yet—and you don’t have to tell anybody what happened for a few months, if you like. It’s a win-win.”

If you’re curious about how it’s a win for Aaron too, you don’t question it just yet. Later, when you think back on this moment, you might blame it on that. On your own curiousity, wanting to know why he’s willing to be out of the state on Christmas and why he looks so vulnerable while he waits for you to answer.

It doesn’t really matter what you can blame it on, though; not when you stick out your hand to shake his, think ‘consequences be damned’, and say, “Deal.”

Next part >

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[shsxxvm]

NO ESCAPE — rafe cameron

WARNING : This story contains depictions of emotional harassment, physical and psychological violence, manipulation, explicit threats, obsessive behavior, and a scene involving physical danger and confinement. Reader discretion is advised.

The clock read 10:47 p.m., and the restaurant was deserted. Only the low hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic sound of the broom as Y/N swept across the floor could be heard. The dim lights in the restaurant reflected her tiredness; it had been a long day, but for her, it was worth it. Working gave her a sense of independence that few understood, especially the Kooks.

She had spent months avoiding everything related to Rafe Cameron. After their breakup, he hadn’t stopped looking for her, insisting on talking to her, but Y/N refused. Her heart still bore the scars of their relationship, and the last thing she needed was for him to show up again.

When she heard the jingle of the bell on the door, she thought that perhaps some clueless customer had walked in. However, when she looked up, her body tensed at the sight of Topper Thornton entering with that mocking smile he always wore.

“Topper?” What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning as he set the broom aside.

“Well, well…” Topper drawled as he looked around in disdain. “So it’s true? Y/N, Rafe Cameron’s ex-girlfriend, working like a pogue.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes tiredly. She had no energy for his comments.

“Because of people with such a withdrawn mentality, the world is the way it is, Topper,” she replied indifferently, turning her back and returning to her task.

Topper let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, crossing his arms.

“And how do you think Rafe would react if he knew his precious Y/N was working here, staying up late by herself?” he asked in a mocking tone, enjoying every word.

Y/N dropped the broom, quickly turning to him. Her face was pale, and her eyes showed genuine fear.

“Topper, please don’t say anything. Really…” she pleaded, feeling a knot in her stomach.

He shrugged, smirking.

“Too late.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat when the restaurant door opened again, and there he was: Rafe Cameron, with that smile she knew so well, a mix of mockery and possessiveness. His blue gaze caught her like it always did, but this time she didn’t feel love, only fear.

“What, honey?” Rafe said in a soft but venomous voice. “You didn’t think you could escape me, did you?”

Topper walked past him, patting him on the shoulder before leaving.

“Have a good time, buddy.” And he walked out, leaving Y/N alone with Rafe.

“Topper, don’t go!” she yelled, but the door closed behind him.

Before she could move, she heard the door lock click. Rafe had closed it.

“Rafe, I…” she began, taking a step back.

“Shh,” he interrupted her, slowly approaching. “I’ve been patient, you know? I gave you space. But now, sweetheart, there are no more games.”

Y/N felt the air grow thicker. She was trapped, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to get out.

“Rafe, please let me go. This doesn’t have to be like this…” she whispered, trying to calm him, though her voice was shaking.

He stopped in front of her, leaning down a little to look her straight in the eyes.

“Let you go?” he repeated, with a crooked smile. “That was never an option, Y/N. It never will be.”

She gulped, knowing that tonight would change everything.

Y/N backed away slowly, trying to stay calm as her eyes desperately searched for something she could use as a defense. The restaurant seemed like a small, cramped place suddenly, every corner a trap.

“What do you want, Rafe?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I want you. I’ve always wanted you, Y/N. But you decided you could just walk away, didn’t you? Like everything we had was… optional.” His tone was getting deeper, and his eyes were shining with a dangerous mix of obsession and anger.

Rafe took a step closer to her, forcing her back until her back hit the counter. Y/N flinched, her hands shaking as she tried to keep her composure.

“You can’t keep going like this, Rafe. This isn’t right. You need help, someone who—”

“I don’t need help!” he shouted, slamming a closed fist on the counter, causing her to jump slightly. Her face was flushed, and the tension in her jaw made it obvious she was struggling to control her emotions.

Y/N tried to move to the side, but Rafe quickly blocked her, cornering her against the counter. His breathing was heavy, and the air was thick with an implicit threat that made it impossible for her to think clearly.

“All of this…” he said, pointing her up and down. “This pathetic job, these lonely nights. Did you really think you could just walk away from me, live like a pogue, and I would just let you go?”

She couldn’t stop the tears from building up in her eyes, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. She straightened her back and looked at him bravely.

“I’d rather do this than be with you, Rafe. I’d rather do anything than be with you again.”

Her words seemed to break something inside him. Her mocking smile disappeared, replaced by an expression of pure rage. Before she could react, Rafe grabbed her wrist tightly, pulling her towards him.

“Don’t talk about me like that, Y/N. I gave you everything. Everything. And you repay me like this.”

“Leave me, Rafe!” she screamed, struggling against his grip, but he was too strong.

Rafe pushed her against the counter harder, his face dangerously close to hers.

“I warned you not to play with me, didn’t I?” he said, his voice low but laced with anger. With his other hand, he slid a lock of hair from her face, a gesture that should have been affectionate, but now felt cold and calculated.

Y/N felt the tears begin to fall, and her fear grew as he pushed her to the ground, pinning her down.

“Rafe, please, this doesn’t have to be like this. Please…” she pleaded, her voice cracking.

But Rafe didn’t seem to be listening. He was lost in his own madness, his eyes shining with an intensity that terrified her.

“If you can’t be mine, Y/N, then you won’t be anyone’s.”

She struggled with all her might, clawing, kicking, screaming, hoping someone would listen. She managed to reach him with a punch to the face, giving him a few seconds to break free and run to the door.

But the lock was still on.

Before she could remove it, she felt Rafe grab her again, throwing her to the ground hard. Her head hit the floor, and the world began to spin as he leaned over her, his breathing erratic and his gaze completely unhinged.

“You can’t escape me, Y/N. You never will.”

At that moment, the lights of a car briefly illuminated the interior of the restaurant, and the headlights stopped right in front of the door. The sound of someone getting out of the vehicle made Rafe pause for a moment, his gaze shifting to the window.

Y/N, though stunned, took advantage of the distraction to scream at the top of her lungs.

“Help! Please, someone, help me!”

The door shook from outside, and a familiar voice called out her name. It was JJ, accompanied by Kie.

“Rafe, get away from her!” JJ screamed, slamming the door hard.

For an instant, Y/N saw the doubt on Rafe’s face, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

“This isn’t over, Y/N,” he whispered with a crooked smile, letting go just before running to the back of the restaurant.

When JJ and Kie finally entered, they found Y/N on the floor, shaking and with tears in her eyes. JJ quickly knelt down beside her, wrapping her in a protective hug.

“It’s over, Y/N. You’re safe now.”

But she knew that wasn’t true. As she felt JJ’s arms around her, she couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe’s last words.

“This isn’t over.”

[aonemanarmy]

If Jenova were capable of true emotion then in that moment she would've felt a sense of sadistic glee at her triumph over Lucrecia. To the eldritch abomination the scientist was merely a means to an end, a foolish creature that had thought herself capable of using Jenova to achieve her own selfish ambitions. She had thought herself to be so intelligent, so superior that she was above her own specimens, but in reality she was never in control and had dared to dabble in things that were better left alone. Now, due to her own hubris she had lost everything and Jenova wasn't about to surrender her prized puppet to the woman.

Sephiroth belonged to her.

Regardless of the fact that Sephiroth had seized the reins of control from her, Jenova still would not relinquish her hold of the man. Naturally, there was no true emotional connection or bond there, but the madman was a powerful tool and she would wield him in whatever way she saw fit – it would only take some more time before she could fully reassert control.

'He was mine the moment you created him for me – or have you forgotten?' Jenova knew that Lucrecia hadn't forgotten, since the whole reason Sephiroth existed was because the scientists had sought to recreate the Ancients. Little did the humans know that Jenova wasn't of Cetra origin, but rather something else entirely and the very entity that had been responsible for the Cetra's destruction. 'It is too late for you to regret things now.'

As Jenova toyed with Lucrecia the madman also struggled against the pain that the creature inflicted upon him coupled with the onslaught of old memories that bombarded his tortured mind. It was almost too much to take in all at once and it felt like his mind was being torn apart all over again.

Professor Gast wasn't like the others.

In the midst of that internal struggle he dimly heard Vincent's words which caused a new wave of bitterness to fill him. Yes, Gast hadn't been like the others at first; Sephiroth could recall in his early years that the man was kind and didn't intentionally harm him, but then one day he left and never came back. For the longest time he'd wondered why Professor Gast had left him behind to be tormented at the hands of Hojo without so much as saying goodbye, but he'd learned the truth of things just recently through Cloud and it was yet another knife buried in his fragile psyche.

“True, the man was far kinder a master than the others, but in the end he was little different than all the rest.” Sephiroth let out a bitter laugh at the remark, shaking his head as he did so. “When he was granted the opportunity to fulfill his own self-interests he took it without any hesitation and abandoned me. All so he could go off and have his own happy little family once he could no longer benefit from the project.”

It hardly mattered that Gast never got to enjoy his new family for very long, because he still had the luxury of experiencing happiness that Sephiroth had never known. Even now Sephiroth knew that he would never truly experience happiness, at least not until Meteor wiped humanity from the face of the world and rid the planet of their taint once and for all. Only then could he be happy.

“And yet, you still live.” Sephiroth turned his attention back to Lucrecia, still not quite believing what she said, but deciding to humor it as if it were true. “So tell me then, where were you? Why did you never come for me?”

Why did you abandon me too?

The unspoken question had always haunted Sephiroth when it came to thinking about everyone around him that was supposed to care for him. Anyone that should've been there for him never was and as such he'd grown to realize that such a life was never meant to be. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he wasn't someone to live in denial even in the face of an ugly truth.

He'd always been alone and he always would be.

Images of the past flashed before Vincent’s mind, bringing him back to those days of agonizing over Lucrecia’s plight. The feeling of helplessness once again wormed its way into Vincent, gripping his throat with the pangs of regret. Her pleading voice, her trembling hands that sought to hold her beloved son, the fear of her once again being forever denied as her right to motherhood--- it tore Vincent to pieces.

Tears streamed down Lucrecia’s pale delicate skin, chilled by the breeze that carried the voices lingering in the cave. She looked as though she would collapse from the weight of emotions overwhelming her senses. It took everything in Vincent’s will-power to hold himself back from rushing to her side to engulf her in his arms. This was between her and Sephiroth; he was merely the enabler. Sephiroth’s discomfort slowly began to unveil. The more Lucrecia pleaded with Sephiroth and revealed their bond, the more Vincent could notice Sephiroth’s expression crease with disdain. Vincent was well aware that the reception wouldn’t be mutual, but the longer Vincent observed, the more he began to sense Sephiroth’s anger rise. Whether it was due to the overwhelming realization, a steadfast denial, or the cruel bending of reality by Jenova’s works, Vincent could only fathom. Seeing Sephiroth take a step back and grip his head, Lucrecia looked on helplessly, at first confused about what her son was going through. But just as her motherly instincts kicked in, Lucrecia rushed forward and extended her hand in an effort to comfort Sephiroth. But just as her hand was about to touch the soft silver tresses of Sephiroth’s head, Lucrecia froze in utter horror. That voice… what is this feeling…? Is it… Lucrecia gasped sharply in terror once she realized who the voice belonged to. Trepidation seized hold of her, and a cold shiver went down her spine. “N-no… this can’t be…” Her voice trembled, her efforts to compose herself not yielding the necessary results. “Lucrecia?!” Alerted at once to her affliction, Vincent momentarily forgot his aching legs and rushed to her side, biting back a searing pain that reminded him he was not fully healed. He caught hold of her shoulders in an attempt to steady her, but Lucrecia immediately attempted to push Vincent away. “Lucrecia, please—what’s wrong?” Vincent maintained his grip, not wanting her to fall and unwilling to let her fight this on her own. Even if Vincent couldn’t hear Jenova’s voice, just from his own experience, and knowing how Jenova cells affected their victims, he had an idea of what Lucrecia was going through. “Stop it--! You don’t own him! He’s not yours!” Lucrecia cried out in anguish, knowing her words were reaching the alien dwelling inside her, but also knowing she was mostly helpless to resist it, let alone affect its intensions. Vincent knew she was fighting a battle he couldn’t fight for her. All he could do was assure her that he was there for her. Sephiroth’s voice diverted Vincent’s gaze; the betrayal and bitterness dripping from his words in copious amounts. It cut deep into Vincent’s heart, but he knew it was searing Lucrecia’s even deeper. “Sephiroth…” Lucrecia wept, looking up at her son through a blur of tears. As painful as those words were, she didn’t have a heart to deny them. “I… I just…” Even if she had been denied access to even see Sephiroth, she knew all too well what had been done to him. After all, she was once a scientist who was all too willing to put aside morals in the name of science. That was, until she first felt the kick of her son in her womb. Vincent felt Lucrecia’s body suddenly sink under the weight of sorrow and defeat, prompting him to ease her down as she knelt on the ground, her head lowered in dejection. “I’m so sorry…” Lucrecia’s voice faded, overcome with grief and regret, allowing her tears to flow freely. She knew there was nothing she could do. Jenova’s words did little to hurt her. But Sephiroth’s tore wide the wound that had never healed. Kneeling beside Lucrecia, Vincent looked up at Sephiroth; his brow creasing pensively. “That’s not true.” He bore his eyes into Sephiroth, mainly directing his energy towards the entity he knew was striving for Sephiroth’s mind. “Professor Gast wasn’t like the others. And had you not been torn from Lucrecia, you would have known differently.” Vincent knew he couldn’t convince Sephiroth. But he wasn’t about to stand by and let Sephiroth dwell on lies, either.

[electricneonvalkyrie]

So, you want to be with Abby Anderson... really freaking bad, right?

I get it. I see it. With so much peace and love, who wouldn't? When she does that ridiculous thing where she rolls her eyes all the way back and pouts... holy Hell, strike my gay heart down, and I'll ask you to do it twice.

So, I'm going to give you an ironclad How-To that you can absolutely thank me for later. Hold onto something, okay? Because this is the answer you've been searching for all your precious life.

Be a medic.

I'm so serious! (I'm giggling crazy as I write this, but I swear to God it's true.)

Be a damn medic. Because nobody in this universe spends more time alone with Abby, not even her vibrator.

Between injuries at the gym, gunshot and arrow wounds, cuts from knives, bruised and broken ribs, dislocated shoulders, fractured knuckles, shrapnel injuries, scrapes, concussions, burns, infections, sprained ankles, migraines, insomnia, freaking tendonitis... need I go on?

This girl is a walking suture magnet, and you? Well, you're her gorgeous, adorable saving grace.

Learn the doctor things. All of them.

She will fall in love with you, and then you'll get to do that cute and devastating thing where you plead with her to stay safe before every mission.

"I’m so fucking serious, Abby. Don’t you dare pull that shit again. I swear, if you come back with another cracked rib or some half-assed excuse about how you 'had it under control,' I’m duct-taping you to a chair until you learn some self preservation."

Careful though, because she'll like the duct tape threat a lot and then she'll have to help you with your muscle soreness and nobody will ever leave their bedroom and the infected will get inside the walls and... all bad. All bad.

I'm shaking my head at myself right now because I wrote this long, poetic paragraph about why Abby would most likely end up in a relationship with a medic, and then I chose to share this instead. So. Welcome to the gong show. Glad you're here.

[extremely-judgemental]

Long Post

I was thinking about Silver Flames (because why have a good start to the year?) Anyway, there are a lot of discussions on Cassian’s and Rhysand’s behaviours, but what is going on with Azriel? He is the only one ‘kind’ to Nesta even when her sisters give up on her. He knows and understands her better than anyone, and later, he becomes her best friend. However, he also agrees with Inner Circle on her ostracism and imprisonment. It’s inaccurate to say he’s out of character since we know very little of him. We don’t have his POV to know his true intentions yet his actions are quite clear, and they are at odds with his identity.

Nesta’s imprisonment

If there is anyone to feel, at the very least, uncomfortable about confining Nesta for being an inconvenience, it should be Azriel. He spends the first eleven years of his life as a captive and is tortured by his half-brothers. He knows better what it is like to be punished without a reason, especially at the hands of one’s family, and its impact. The idea of imprisonment alone should be a tripwire for him, yet he plays a willing chaperone. Assuming Azriel can’t recognise this as abuse solely based on the circumstances, he should be alarmed to find a wounded (despite the fae healing) Nesta the following morning after she falls down the stairs. Whenever she gets a bruise outside training, it should make him question his brother because it’s what his own did to him when they were alone. Interestingly, the thought that Cassian might be the cause crosses his mind, although he is merely amused by it.

Cassian’s relationship with Morrigan

These two share a weird—if not deeply disturbing—relationship intended to hurt Azriel enough to distance him from Morrigan. And this doesn’t change even after one of them gets a mate. This should affect Azriel on so many levels. Cassian supposedly ruined his chance with the woman he loved (no one owes anyone anything here, but in this case, that should be his train of thought). Cassian is also the first among the two to get mated. 

Now, a mate is more sacred to Azriel than his brothers, and he has been yearning for one for centuries. During the solstice, Cassian and Morrigan exchange inappropriate gifts when everyone in the room is aware of the bond to some extent, except Nesta. Even if he doesn’t have proper experience with healthy romances, it must infuriate Azriel to watch Cassian disrespect the bond enough to flirt with another woman. It could have been an interesting moment for him to truly see his friends for who they are, and for his jealousy to morph into resentment towards Cassian for treating his mate essentially like a mistress. But he doesn’t show any signs of it.

Azriel is not just protecting the sanctity of the mating bond but his worthiness. When he sees anybody treat their mate poorly, it should drive him to act. It shouldn’t even be a question of whether he would choose this or his brother. It is often shown he doesn’t hesitate to go against even Rhysand, so why doesn’t he in this case? The core of his identity should trump his loyalty to his family.

Cassian’s relationship with Nesta 

The three brothers are raised in Illyria, where women are abused, mutilated, and their lives are controlled. They are supposedly superior to their kind who treat women better. And Azriel is said to be the most respectful as his mother’s suffering influenced him at a young age. Now, to see Nesta hurt under their care while her mate shows no concern should lead to him questioning Cassian’s character. 

Moreover, based on the importance of this bond in his life, Azriel will have certain expectations of how a mate is meant to be treated. For him, it doesn’t matter what kind of person the mate is since she/he is a blessing. He goes above and beyond for Morrigan and Elain for the flicker of hope that either might be his. Like Cassian, the mated relationships he witnesses are Rhysand’s parents and Rhysand with Feyre. He might have noticed stark differences in their treatments. He sees Rhysand threatening Nesta for simply not agreeing with his wishes, for things aren’t even a crime; Cassian disregarding Nesta’s wishes, mocking her, belittling her, not standing up when everyone is against her. And yet, Azriel supports every one of his choices.

For these reasons, his reaction during the Blood Rite is baffling. Azriel is the only one emotionally driven to consider Cassian’s fears and reckless enough to support him in retrieving Nesta. Instead, he consoles his brother.

If he recognised all of this, it’d explain why he cared for Nesta and how it developed into the understanding between the two. Honestly, I didn’t get the sense they were that close for Azriel to go bat-shit crazy at the bog when Nesta went missing. It felt so out of place from laughing at her bruises one day and then caring deeply for her the next. One minute he’s ready to attack Nesta for fighting with Elain, the next he is more relieved than Cassian to find her.

Azriel’s shadows

Aren’t they supposed to be sentient? Now, they are sort of an extension of Azriel, but they tend to react on their own irrespective of his feelings. We see that with their hiding around Morrigan and Elain while playing with Gwyneth. The shadows' reaction to these women is meant to be signs of the truth they can see but not Azriel—the truth he isn’t willing to accept. Why are they only expressive when his romantic prospects are concerned, but not the one thing that brought them together or invoked his ability in the first place? Shouldn’t they be disapproving of the whole imprisonment since it’s something Azriel suffered, even if he doesn’t want to equate the two, even when he’s repressing his trauma? It’s confusing and beats the point of sentience if they obey him when his entire being is constantly threatened.  

Sure, Azriel is creepy. But this is much worse—making his past and desire for a mating bond his whole personality for three books, his behaviour is completely ironic.

Everything Nesta is subjected to by the Inner Circle should be a stressor for him. It would be hard for Azriel to realise that the brothers who accepted him despite his past turned into abusers themselves. If it is one instance, it’s understandable why he would be too blind to it. But they pile over one another in a way he can’t just ignore them.

In his book, these will be addressed—his imprisonment, his relationship with his mother and half-brothers, his self-esteem, the impact of Morrigan and Cassian’s actions on him, and the mating bond tied to his worthiness. But since Azriel enabled Nesta’s poor treatment in House of Wind, this is going to seem to come from a place of entitlement and self-centredness; that these become an issue only when he faces it. 

I’ve never seen a narrative so biased against a character. The very foundation of Azriel is stripped in order to validate and justify Cassian’s (and Inner Circle’s) behaviour towards Nesta.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: can you do one where she’s breaking and she explodes on her brothers because they are trying to get her to open up but she doesn’t want to seem weak and scared. It’s not like her to yell or be aggressive towards them so they know something is wrong and it ends up in a meltdown.

A/N: Hope you like this! Requests are always open. Thanks!

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

The bunker felt like a suffocating cage, the walls closing in around you with every breath you took. You'd been holding it together for so long—weeks, months, years—but tonight, everything came crashing down. Every ounce of fear, guilt, and exhaustion, the constant strain of keeping up the facade, it all boiled over.

You were barely aware of the words tumbling out of your mouth, raw and jagged, a release of everything you’d been burying deep inside.

“Will you two ever leave me the hell alone?” The words exploded from your chest, jagged and ugly, as if you were trying to slice through the tension in the air. You turned, wild eyes flashing between Sam and Dean, your body shaking with a combination of anger and fear. "I don't need your fucking pity! I don’t need your damn help! Just leave me the fuck alone!"

It wasn’t like you to lash out like this. Dean and Sam both knew that. They had seen you angry, but never like this. This was different. The outburst, the harshness—it was as if all the years of bottling up every fear and every grief were finally coming undone, and they were getting the brunt of it.

Dean took a step back, stunned. Sam’s face mirrored that same shock. They knew you well enough to know this wasn’t you. You never cursed like this. You never screamed. You were the quiet one, the one who kept everything inside, who held it together even when the world felt like it was collapsing around you.

But now? Now you were unhinged, unraveling before their eyes. Your breath came in sharp, jagged gasps, and your fists clenched tight, but you couldn’t control the way your body was shaking.

"Sweetheart, hey," Sam said, his voice soft but filled with concern. "It’s okay. You don't have to keep it inside. If you need to scream, to yell, let it out. It's okay. We're here for you."

But those words—those damn words—just made you angrier. They saw through you. They always did. They knew you were breaking. And it made you furious. The vulnerability, the fear—it made you want to run from it. You wanted to fight it, to scream and shout until it went away, until you could pretend like everything was fine again. But it wasn’t. And it was suffocating.

Dean stepped forward, his voice low, trying to calm the storm inside you. "Let it out, kid," he said, his tone as steady as he could manage. "If that’s what you need, scream, yell, curse—whatever it is. We’ll take it. We can handle it. But you don’t have to bottle it up anymore."

It was too much. You couldn’t keep holding it back. You spun to face Dean, your hands slapping against his chest, frantic, desperate, angry.

“I’m NOT scared, okay? I’m not!” you shouted, your hands slapping his chest again, harder now, as if you were trying to force the words out of your body. "I’m fine! I don’t need you to fix me! I’m fucking fine!”

But it wasn’t true. You were so scared. The fear was clawing at your insides, and no matter how many times you screamed it wasn’t, the truth was still there, boiling beneath the surface.

Dean didn’t flinch. He didn’t get angry. He just... grabbed your wrists. His grip was tight, not painful, but firm enough to stop your slapping. You tried to pull away, to break free, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he held your wrists tightly, his hands steady against your skin, as if he knew you needed something to anchor you.

"Y/N...,” he said softly, the words filled with an understanding you weren’t ready to face, yet it was exactly what you needed. "I know you’re scared. I know you’re trying to fight it, trying to pretend you’re not. But you’re scared, and that’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way."

The words sent a shockwave through you. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that until he said it. But even then, the rage was still there, burning. You didn’t want to be weak. You didn’t want to feel small in front of them.

“I’m not scared, okay?” You repeated, but it came out weaker, shakier. You tried to wrench your wrists free, but Dean’s grip only tightened. He wasn’t letting you go.

“Stop,” he said, his voice a little sharper now, his grip on your wrists unyielding. "You’re not fine. You’re scared, and that’s okay. You’re not alone. You don’t have to hide it."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you pushed them away, frustrated with yourself for even letting them come. "I’m not scared," you tried again, your voice cracking with desperation. "I’m NOT!"

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, his hands slowly moved from your wrists to your shoulders, gently but firmly pulling you toward him. And that’s when it happened—the floodgate opened. You melted against him, your body trembling as the walls you’d built came crashing down.

You let out a strangled sob, and the anger dissolved into fear, into pure, raw terror. Your chest heaved as you collapsed against his chest, trembling uncontrollably.

“I’m so scared, Dean,” you whispered, your voice broken and small. It was the first time you’d admitted it, the first time the truth slipped out. "I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to handle it. I’m scared I won’t be enough. That I’ll lose everyone. That I’ll let you down. That I’ll lose myself."

Dean’s grip on you tightened, and he pulled you closer. His hand moved to the back of your head, gently guiding you into his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I know, kid,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, soft but firm. "I know you’re scared. I know... but you’re not alone. We’ve got you. You’re not gonna lose us. You’re not gonna let anyone down. You’re gonna be okay, Y/N. We’re here. We’re here for you."

The words felt like a lifeline, like you were clinging to the only thing keeping you from sinking. Your tears came harder now, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face into his chest. You felt his arms tighten around you, his heartbeat steady beneath you, grounding you, pulling you back from the brink.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally let yourself be vulnerable. You finally let the fear show. And as much as it scared you to break in front of them, to show them that you weren’t invincible, you knew deep down that you didn’t have to be. Because, for the first time in ages, you weren’t alone.

“I’ve got you,” Dean whispered again, his voice low, steady, and filled with a quiet strength that seemed to seep into your bones. “You’re not alone, kid. You don’t have to carry it all on your own. We’re here. I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

And somehow, in that moment, you believed him.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Something I’ve seen a decent amount in general butch/femme or masculine and feminine discussions online, irl and from history books is a big push of the idea of lesbians engaging in that for safety and passing as a straight couple - which don’t get me wrong 100% is a thing that has happened is happening and will continue to happen so long as we live in a homophobic and sexist world.

But i sometimes see this idea being pushed that it’s why ALL couples did it or the only reason they did.

Which is just not true. Not even including the fact that some lesbians just do it because they do and there isn’t a reason behind it, some couldn’t even if they wanted to.

I’m a decently feminine woman and my gf is butch. But we are also short (she’s only like a few cms taller then me ). There is no way in hell we ever pass as a straight couple. Sometimes when she is alone people mistake her for a young boy but when we are together it is so unbelievably obvious we are a lesbian couple and my femininity coupled with her butchness doesn’t hide that fact it draws attention to it.

[hexy-lynesdein]

The Traveler & her Path Behind

“Wounds suffered, lessons learned.”

I think the most prominent part about episode 4 other than it being Alice's trial— wherein she was able to ended her generational curse for once and for all; changing something that she thinks “wasn't real”, is that you get to see how it affecting her.

How Alice realizes that she was angry at her mom who was only trying to save her. Lorna did everything in her power to protect Alice in any way she could. So that even if she was no longer present on Alice's life— her protection through the song, in which she pours all of her love for her daughter into, would persist. Thanks to the people who sang that song with as much passion as how Lorna is writing it for Alice.

And I love how she learned all of this from a journey with a broken coven, each filled with covenless witches who had their own issues. But even though they are hardly a “true” coven— they were there for Alice. They sat there with her on that campfire, talking about each scars that they had, so that she wouldn't feel so bad about hers. And for once, she felt that hole in her heart was slowly filled with warmth. That similar type of warmth that she's been missing for ages.

Alice has always been angry all her life. It's easier for her to get angry and blame something instead of grieving it. Because being angry is relatively easier than grieving because you feel like you are in control of your life, you get this power to push through from that fire burning in you. But unlike anger, grief is far from that. It's that feeling of hollow and emptiness— that you acknowledge something was no longer yours. It's gone and you have to accept that. You will eventually move on and there might be something else that will replace it. You will learn to live side by side with this pit that sits with you and it will left you in a vulnerable state, and that's not alright. It's hard to said it'll be alright when it clearly didn't. But eventually, you'd move on. People always do. That's just how life is always been.

And for once, when the cause of Alice's angers was no longer there— and that she was finally free from it after a long time of suffering, she felt nothing but sadness.

This is a simple phrase if it were to be said by anyone. However, it held much bigger weight when it was Lilia who said that.

Lilia being the oldest witch from the coven. Lilia who's been alive for 400+ years. Lilia who made it this far in life, seeing all the horrors, and the tragedies that humanity experienced— the malice that lurked in their hearts. She's seen it all. She saw their path and “destination”; but mostly their destination because of her gift. That's almost all the thing she ever saw throughout her life up until now. Not to mention the flow of time that seems to be never standing with her.

It makes her angry. Because she saw it all. Lilia has seen their death. The causes and what's about to happen. But there is nothing she could do about it. She warns them. She tells them. And it didn't change anything. There's nothing she could do about the outcome. Because her task as a seer isn't supposed to change. She's there to observe — to see. And that alone upsets her. She turned away from her gift. Unwilling to use something that is a part of herself. For years. Decades. Probably centuries. Because why would she be? Death is all she'd seen. Why would she want to subject herself into something that would hurt her? Something that would only make her sad? And that's why, in the end, she resorted into being a con artist. Masking herself behind something that was not Lilia Calderu the chased-out-of-every-village-for-accurately-predicting-tragedies; running away from her true self.

Lilia already lost count on how many days and nights that she yearns for a change. To be able to do something for once. Flashes upon flashes would appear on the peripheral of her vision. About her coven. Her family. Her sister in the craft. And often times she wondered if a miracle would happened again in her life.

And it finally did.

When Agatha Harkness recruited Lilia to joined her coven, she almost wanted to spat. No one with a sane mind would willingly joined her coven. But fate always has its own ways with Lilia as her future self went back into that fateful day, where she write down the name of her new coven. Assigning herself to embark into a treacherous journey with a group of people that she, somehow, has quite a lot in common.

From there, she learns again what it feels to have a coven and be in a coven. Each trials they faced with death and their worst nightmare following in their step. But at least they are together this time. Lilia is not alone and maybe she could actually count on these people. Perhaps the walk down on this road with the infamous Agatha Harkness is going to change her. Maybe she still couldn't prevent deaths but at least she could piece up something that she has been missing. A part of herself that she was trying so hard to ignore— a part of herself that yearns for some form of connections through sisterhood.

And she finally got it again. She saw Jennifer who's capable of saving a life while being bound. Changing the outcome of Teen's life. She saw Alice fighting, oh ever so bravely, and full of fire. Ending her family's generational curse for once and for all — changing something that she thought she couldn't. She's seen all the struggles and how it impacts them.

And there they sat in that campfire, after the fire-trial. Sharing their own scars as an attempt to make Alice felt better about herself. Lilia saw the sadness that lingered on the once fierce and full of fire woman. She's seen it and she acknowledge it, she knows that feeling all too well. Lilia feels like she saw a piece of herself on her new coven members yet again, and she felt the urge to give Alice one last words of comfort, “Sad is better than angry”. And maybe that words is not enough to fully filled the hole in Alice's heart on its own, but as long as it means that Lilia could have a chance to do something for her sisters in the craft instead of running away again or being indifferent like how she always do— then that's fine. It's okay. She will take those chances.

And Alice? Alice is grateful to hear that from Lilia— who lives longer than her, who suffers worse things than her, and who knows so much more than her. Because to be loved, is to be seen and heard. And now Alice is surrounded with love.

[karie-on]

Russo Family Master Post

Since I've been getting a lot of new followers lately, one person pointed out that I've never done an official introduction of each character individually. So I wanted to do an introduction and a summary of each character's backstory. I can’t be concise so I'll split them a little into a separate posts.

Here is the story chronologically: part 1, part 2, part 3 (currently)

Olive Russo (founder)

Olive is a warm, loving person. She loves baking, cooking and gardening. For a while she had her bakery in Brindleton Bay. She is very creative, romantic and a good person. She and Jay met in a cafe and hit on right away. Due to different plans for the future, they split up for a short while after buying a house together. Olive then set off on a journey of self-discovery and tried many new things, one of which was horse riding, where she met Stephen, her instructor. They quickly started dating, but that wasn't it, Olive missed Jay and decided to end her relationship with Stephen to get back together with Jay. Unfortunately for her it turned out that she got pregnant. It was Stephen's child. Olive then gave birth to a beautiful daughter named Skye. For the sake of the baby, they decided to work together, but the truth is that they were on really bad terms for a very long time. Olive struggled with postpartum depression after having Skye. Shortly after that, Jay decided to propose to Olive and they got married. It was time for Jay and Olive's baby. Olive found out she was pregnant with her second child shortly after the wedding, it turned out to be another girl. While pregnant, Olive managed to complete culinary degree. Sage Olivia Russo was born when Skye was already a child. When she was young, Olive never thought about being a mother, but once she became one, she loved it and was a great support for the girls in all their crises. She and Jay are accomplished parents and grandparents who love their lives and their family. They currently live alone with their dog Harley in Henford on Bagley but sometimes they miss their house in San Sequoia.

Jay Russo

Jay is good, loyal and family sim, but one true thing about Jay is that he LOVES dogs. He comes from Sulani, his parents always gave him a lot of love and Jay always knew he wanted to be a father and a husband. He started his career as a detective in the Police, but it was a huge pressure and stress, so over time he switched to programming. However, these were never his dream careers. Jay never dared to try what he loved the most, the piano. As a child he loved playing the piano and his dream was to play concerts as a professional pianist, but he knew that it was not a profitable job and if he wanted to support his family, he had to find something more profitable. Jay was completely in love with Olive from the beginning, but she didn't want to get into a serious relationship so soon. Then they both decided to break up, Jay was dating some girl for a while but quickly returned to Olive and they are together to this day. He is a happy father of Sage, and stepfather of Skye. Jay never had a problem with the fact that Skye is not his biological daughter, for him she is a true one. He considers himself very lucky and fulfilled in life.

[sg-444]

Okay, let's talk Eric Frankenstein.

I've seen plenty of fans on here all but excuse Eric's actions as the actions of a child, even in scenes from the present day. To build on this post and many others like it, it is true... to a certain extent.

(btw, this response isn't targeted to who i'm reblogging- just in general to the response on this show from people all over the internet, and i think this post is a good building block-)

I think the analysis across the internet of Dr. Frankenstein's bad parenting is 100% correct- he did not provide a good environment for the Bride nor Eric to grow in. But, like any other person, you will be a product of your environment but once you've become an adult, it is your responsibility to learn and grow from it. If you do not and remain an entitled man-child, you can pinpoint the root of the issue but you cannot excuse it to a certain point.

The same case is here with the Bride and Eric.

I've seen countless people claim that, while Eric's actions are wrong, he has a child's brain stuck in an adult body- and i find that to be infantilization. It begs the question, "Why do we continue to infantilize men?" Don't forget, the Bride and Eric are the product of the same man, the same home. In the present day, they're BOTH close to 200 years old. What is the reason why the Bride has grown, and Eric has not? The Bride is never acknowledged as anything other than an adult woman with a sound mind (which she is), while Eric has ALSO lived 200 years, most of them after the Doctor's death, and has many lived experiences and opportunities to learn and grow. So why do we use this excuse for Eric and not the Bride? He wasn't raised right, but neither was the Bride. The Bride is grown, a capable adult, with empathy (despite her reluctance in showing it) and not as much psychopathic behavior as Eric has displayed... depending, but it is with a different context... the Bride kills a man brutally for abusing a s*x worker and potentially being a threat to Nina, while Eric kills, often, for no apparent reason or from entitlement, or insecurity.

So why do we continue to excuse Eric's actions as anything but as the actions of an entitled, violently misogynistic, delusional man? He may have been a child trapped in a Monster's body in flashbacks, but in the present day the same issues persist. Once again, it has been close to (or over, not entirely sure) 200 years. More time than any human with an equally shitty childhood is granted, and slightly more time than even the Bride has had to mature.

Eric kills Dr. Frankenstein, not to save the Bride, but out of anger, because he views the Bride as a possession, HIS possession, and at that point in time, it might be correct to argue that he has the brain of a child having a tantrum.

But then the behavior persists. For almost 200 more years.

In the present day, we see that Eric has not grown from the person he was in the Bride's flashbacks- he still feels entitled to the Bride.

The Bride, to Eric, is a possession, and he is the rightful owner. She was made for him, and that is that. He surrounds himself with (presumably, from the context) yacht girls/sex workers when we see him in the present day, because he still, after so long, only views women as shiny, beautiful things to look at. In flashbacks, he is not interested in a wife that even knows how to speak, let alone read, or think. He does not want a woman who can speak or think. He does not want a "woman". He wants a possession, a shiny figurine to have on display.

We see the progression of the Bride's and Eric's "relationship", again, through flashbacks- going through nearly 200 years of him stalking her, and her telling him "No" over and over. He never listens, he never learns. He CHOOSES not to see, he chooses to be steadfast in what he believes- that she belongs to him.

I would say that 200 years is enough to learn the meaning of "No." We are shown time and time again that Eric does not WANT to know better. He chooses to live in his delusion. Bogdona begs him to stay, that the Bride does not love him, but that Bogdona loves him. Still, Eric sees being alone as worse than death. But what he cannot see is that, he was not alone with her, and if he had chosen to stay, she wouldn't have to live alone and he would probably be better off there than chasing a fantasy of a woman who in reality, doesn't want anything to do with him. And so, he kills Bogdona. Yes, it is childish in the way that he still views love as a fantasy. Yes, in his twisted mind, he is doing her a favor, and yes, it is still in the earlier days of his existence. But as time passes, Eric still lives in delusion. We can see him talking to Rick Flag Sr., equating both of their love lives to romantic movies. That is because he lives in a fantasyland.

Yes, Eric has the mindset of a child, but let's all analyze that through the lens of your modern age incel, rather than equating him to an actual child when he is not. He speaks eloquently, and he's very worldly about many things. He's been to many different places, and has had experiences with many different people, such as Bogdana. So has the Bride. That is why, when we see him in the present and he still has no understanding of social cues, boundaries, or consent, we should be viewing it how it really is- Eric is not a child, he is the same as a human incel playing video games in his parents' basement. It is not that he is not capable of growth or understanding, he is just as capable as the Bride, he chooses to remain stagnant, entitled, and like a child throwing a tantrum.

Eric is not a child, he is an adult man, and like many adult men, he still has childish tendencies that present themselves in the worst ways- feeling as though women belong to him, owe him something, are NOTHING else outside of him. And it is by CHOICE.

If the Bride can be a capable adult who understands boundaries and doesn't reek of entitlement, then so can Eric.

ERIC IS A CHILD MONSTER

We have all somewhat forgotten what made Frankenstein's monster fascinating and disturbing at the same time, and James Gunn with Creature Commandos has managed to remind us of that for good measure.

Being a childlike creature, a child in its own right but with devastating physical potential makes its every action unpredictable and threatening.

The creature's first words, along with the effects of human gestation, also identify it as a human child. Picking up on Mary Shelley's book: "His eyes—if eyes they may be called—were fixed on me. His jaw opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds while a grin wrinkled his cheeks […] one hand stretched out to detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs”. Despite Frankenstein’s response of revulsion, the Creature’s initial behavior seems very much like that of an infant, reaching out with a grin and a gurgle for his parent.

Although Victor Frankenstein reacts with revulsion, the creature's initial behavior seems very much like that of an infant, reaching out with a smile and a gurgle toward its parent.

For all intents and purposes in Creature Commandos we find this version of the monster with an extremely selfish mentality. It has no problem threatening its creator with death, demanding a wife like a child demands to have the toy at the supermarket. If he wants something then he will have it; human lives are worth only when it suits him. The Bride for Eric is a perfect wife, he describes her as we might describe a figurine, we like her and we take her. It is also doubly disturbing how Eric manages to talk amicably about his obsession, as if it were totally normal to own Bride all to himself, a love he says is complex: "My bride, she plays these little fetch me games, but she knows inside, as i do, that we are destined to be together ."

Just as in the series, Frankenstein's creature would not have become monstrous if Victor had taken care of him and provided him with a nurturing environment once he brought him to life, as a parent would do for their child.

Victor's neglect of the creature in the book, which we recall describes him as "more horrible than belongs to humanity," sets him up to be deprived forever of any sense of belonging.

A big thought to say that certain toxic and possessive mentalities can be beautifully avoided if one engages with education. And I will repeat myself as always but as the beginning of the new DC universe in the movie and TV world, I couldn't have asked for better ❤️

But hey, this series is the same as Guardians of the Galaxy so it's not worth watching.cit

(I WAS SARCATIC HERE DON'T WORRY )

[eggrollforyou]

Secrets

Law x F!Reader

WC: ~3000

CW: NSFW, MDNI, use of sex toys, established relationship, consensual voyeurism, fingering, oral (F receiving), soft dom Law, use of pet names, mutual masturbation, use of Y/N

A/N: This one is for you @shy-writer-999 ! I hope this scratches that itch. Barely proofread. Enjoy!

“Where the HELL is that damn comic?!” Law shouted, his voice grated with frustration. He’s spent the last 30 minutes tearing your shared room apart looking for his newest Sora comic find. All he wanted was to take a few minutes to have a break and enjoy a light read. Something to break the monotony of medical journals and textbooks. But he couldn’t for the life of him remember where he set the comic. His desk was messier than usual, papers and books scattered and disorganized as he shifted everything around, swearing he left it on the desk. The bookshelf was left just as messy in his search, rummaging through every shelf. He rubbed his hand down his face in frustration. Alright, clearly it got put somewhere stupid. Where else can I look? He thought to himself. He couldn’t ask you where it was, you were out getting supplies with Ikkaku at the island where you were currently docked.

He was hoping to get to read while the crew were out on the island, giving him a true opportunity to be alone without worrying someone barging in and interrupting his personal time but at this rate that was less and less likely to happen. Time to move on to more unusual places to check he thinks as he walks to his nightstand. Pulling open the drawer and still not seeing anything. Maybe it’s in (Y/N)’s nightstand. At this fucking point it could be anywhere. He makes his way around the bed and pulls your nightstand drawer open with such force that all of the contents flew forward, slamming into the front of the drawer. Suddenly, he forgot what he was looking for. Right before him was something that took him completely by surprise. When he opened the drawer so forcefully, he exposed your sex toys. He smirked, picking up a toy in each hand- a wand and a clit stimulator. And just like that, the comic was long forgotten. He felt a pulse of desire as he thought about you using these. When was the last time she used this? Why does she have this? WHEN did she get them? Oh…this is going to be fun.

You and Ikkaku were making your way back to the submarine with the crate of medical supplies that Law requested you both pick up. Laughing and joking about the trouble Bepo almost got into at the market for clumsily bumping a produce stand, nearly destroying the poor farmer’s entire crop, you both entered the ship loudly. Law’s ears perked up when he heard your fit of giggles. He was in your shared room, lying in wait for your return. When you and Ikkaku unloaded the supplies and put them away, you noticed one of Law’s Sora comics under a supply of latex gloves. “Hey, Ikkaku, do you mind cataloguing these supplies? I need to get this to the Captain,” you raise the comic. “Oh yea, go for it. I’ll take care of this,” she smiles. “Thanks! I’ll see you later! I’ll catalogue on the next supply run,” you wink as you walk out of the room to head to your quarters.

You’re humming as you open the door to your quarters, “Laaaaw, baby, look what I found with the medical supplies,” you raise the comic to show your loot. “I thought you might want to read it, right? Isn’t this the new one,” and you stop. Jaw dropped, heat rushing to your cheeks, surely showing your embarrassment when you are met with the sight of Law, sitting at his desk, waiting for you. And your sex toys were on the desk in front of him. You quickly shut the door behind you. He wore a cocky half smile, his fingers pressed together in front of him. “U-uhmmm….did you go through my stuff, Law?” you question, your voice small, barely above a whisper. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I was looking for that comic, thank you for finding it by the way, and checked our nightstands. Found these in there,” as he points to the toys on his now clean desk. You feel so warm with embarrassment and being on the spot. You only got them when you and Law were separated for so long when he was on Punk Hazard and Dressrosa. You needed the toys because your own hands were no longer cutting it after him. What his hands can do, make you melt.

“Am I not enough for you?” Law questions, his eyes growing dark as he stands up. You gulp, “You’re more than enough, Law. I got them when you were on Punk Hazard and Dressrosa. It was so long without you…..and I-I couldn’t take care of it myself because you’re too good at it,” you shyly smirk. He chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest as he grabs the toys and walks to you. Holding them up in front of you, he looks down and back up at you, “I want you to show me how you use them….for…research purposes.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your embarrassment quickly dissipates, replaced by desire in your belly as his request. “O-okay…,” you pause, waiting to see if he gives you any further direction. “Pick one,” he smirks as his gaze grows more intense, boring through you.

You pick the wand and make your way to the bed, unzipping your boiler suit, stripping down to your tank top and shorts underneath. You sit on the bed, shifting to a slight recline with your legs out and knees slightly bent. He pulls his chair around his desk to the end of the bed and sits down, arms crossed as he watches you. You gulp, I can’t believe this is happening, you think to yourself as you unbutton your shorts, shimmying out of them and your underwear at the same time. You kick them off at him. He catches them, his devilish smile and heavy lidded eyes spurring more confidence in you. “Spread your legs, baby,” he growls and you instantly comply, “That's it…just like that.” Exposing your cunt to him, you grow wetter by the second. You turn on your wand and as you take it to the apex of your thighs, you slowly rub your other hand down your other thigh. Pressing the wand on your clit, you immediately close your eyes in the pleasure the stimulation brings. You gasp and bite your lip, slowly increasing the pressure and moving the wand in small circles on your clit.

Law leans forward as he adjusts his jeans, his length achingly tight in them, as he rests his elbows on his knees. His breathing increases as he watches you pleasure yourself. Your head thrown back in pleasure, eyes closed, biting your lip. It’s driving him wild. He wants nothing more than to confirm how much more pleasure he brings you, but he’s enjoying himself at the moment. Trying to hold out before he ruins you. “Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” he commands. Your eyes snap open and you both take in each other’s forms. You apply more pressure with the wand, bringing yourself closer to orgasm. You're spurred on by seeing him palm his length through his jeans. Suddenly, he drops your shorts but still holds your panties. He unbottons his jeans and pulls them down, exposing his hard cock- tip angry and red from its confinement- as he wraps your panties around his length and begins slowly fisting himself with them. You moan at the sight and stop pleasuring yourself for a moment. You groan then, not intending to stop. “Please, Law, please make me feel good. No one else can like you,” you plead. “Tch- don’t stop. Be a good girl and cum for me. If you’re good, then I’ll fuck you,” he demands as he continues to fist his cock.

You bite your lip harder at the sight and nod as you press the wand to your clit again. As you adjust the pressure you’re applying from harder to lighter, you continue to watch each other, connecting through intense eye contact which only fuels your desire. You push one leg out straight and bring the other up, grabbing your knee as you feel the coil in your abdomen begin to unravel. Your eyes close tightly as you approach your orgasm and with a harder press from the wand, you snap. “F-fuuck, yes, Law,” you cry out as you cum, your cunt throbbing around nothing as you get even wetter, leaving a slick shine on the tip of the wand.

As you come down, you hear Law shifting, “That’s it…good girl. Let me take care of you now,” he says darkly. You look up and see him standing next to you at the edge of the bed, he’s already stripped down to nothing. You quickly pull off your shirt and unclasp your bra. You yelp in surprise as he moves you on the bed so your legs are bent over the edge. He gets down on his knees as he presses your thighs up, exposing yourself completely to him, “I want to hear my name on your lips when I make you cum, got it?” he rumbles.

He immediately takes your clit into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks between harsh flicks of his tongue. “Fuck, oh my god- hng,” you shout as your hands find purchase in his dark locks. He moans at the feeling of you tugging his hair and continues eating you like a man starved. Between him fucking you with his tongue and going back to sucking your clit, you’re on the verge of another orgasm. “Oh god, don’t stop, right there” you cry out as he has you tumbling over the edge again. Your legs twitch and squeeze him. The sounds of his mouth lapping you up obscene and filling the room with your cries of bliss. As you come down, your legs tremble and he leans back, wiping you from his face, “That’s my girl.” He comes up and leans over you, kissing you deeply, forcing his tongue between your lips as you taste yourself. Your hands on each side of his face as he has you caged beneath him. His arm wraps underneath you and he pulls you up to his chest and moves you both further onto the bed.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he whispers into your mouth between kisses. “Hmm,” you moan, “I need you, p-please, fuck me,” you pant. He leans up, and presses your knees to your chest and fists his cock as he takes you in, fucked out and breathless. He lines himself up to your pussy and presses in slowly, as he leans forward over you. When he presses to the hilt, you’re both panting, foreheads pressed together as he pauses, trying not to cum immediately at the feeling of your warm, wet, walls clenching around him. He presses a kiss to your soft lips and leans up, moving his hands to grab your hips, pressing sharp indents into your flesh. He begins thrusting into you, enamored by how your cunt takes all of him and it awakens something possessive within him. “Fuck, look how well you take me. You’re mine, got it? Nothing and no one can make you feel this good.” You nod, unable to speak, as you’re lost in the pleasure of his cock stretching and filling you completely. Your moans grow louder as he picks up his pace, sweat glistening on his brow. “Hnng,” you cry out as he thrusts particularly harshly, slamming into your cervix. “Fuuuhck, I love the sounds you make. Just for me,” he pants as he loses himself in you.

He suddenly pulls out and you cry out in frustration at the empty feeling. You press up to your elbows, “W-why’d you stop, baby?” you pant. “C’mere,” he pulls you up as he sits down, pulling you onto his lap. He grabs your breasts as you push them into his face, rolling your nipples between his fingers as he takes one into his mouth, sucking and biting as if they’ll disappear if he doesn’t pay them attention. You throw your head back, eyes shut tight. Reaching down, you line himself up to your entrance and sit down on his throbbing cock, gasping when you’re fully seated on top of him. “Go on, fuck yourself on my cock,” Law rumbles, his voice deep and thick with lust.

He’s as drunk with you as you are with him as you begin riding him as his hands roughly pull across your body. You bounce up and down his length until your legs and hips burn. Pushing through the pain to chase your orgasm. “Shit, just like that baby- fuuuuhhhck,” he cries out as he wraps his arms under yours and pulls you down grabbing your shoulders. You feel him pulse as he cums, spilling thick ropes into you and you roll your hips, grinding your clit on his abdomen. “I know you have one more for me baby,” he whispers breathlessly into your mouth as he kisses you. As you're grinding, feeling him pulse within you, and feeling his release trickling out of you with your movements, you cum again. Pleasure wracking your body as Law leaves no space between you. You’re overwhelmed with pleasure. All you feel, smell, and think is him as you lose yourself and cry out his name over and over.

You still, sitting in his lap as you collapse forward, utterly spent. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly as you both come down from your highs. Trying to catch your breath in the crook of his neck, you feel him press kisses along your shoulder. “Hmmm,” he exhales, “So which one is better?” he asks, trying to stifle a laugh. You pull back to look at him, “Oh hush!” you laugh as you playfully push his shoulder, laughing together intimately.

Tags: @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune