#it as much as I could if I played it first by myself and I didnt say that directly so no way they could know and I will finish it on my own

[marmotsomsierost]

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Pratchett: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

P: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

P: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus. Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself."

(Terry Pratchett in an interview with the Onion)

J. R. R. Tolkien, undisputedly a most fluent speaker of this language, was criticized in his day for indulging his juvenile whim of writing fantasy, which was then considered—as it still is in many quarters— an inferior form of literature and disdained as mere “escapism.” “Of course it is escapist,” he cried. “That is its glory! When a soldier is a prisoner of war it is his duty to escape—and take as many with him as he can.” He went on to explain, “The moneylenders, the knownothings, the authoritarians have us all in prison; if we value the freedom of the mind and soul, if we’re partisans of liberty, then it’s our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as possible."

Stephen R. Lawhead

[rafelandia]

Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.

Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?” Rafe called out.

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.

“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.

“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."

Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.” 

Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.

“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.

“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.

“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”

Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.

“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.

“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.

“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.

Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[daphwritesworld]

YOU ARE DOING GODS WORK WRITING FOR TOP!KEIRA. I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS FOR MONTHS!! NOT TO RUSH YOU BUY WHEN IS IT COMING OUT??

hopefully the first part will be out tomorrow, but the latest will be Friday :D

…..and okay yall have done it…you have forced me to give you a lil preview 😩 (a.k.a i just can’t contain it to myself anymore bc im so excited lol)

part one out now: read here!!

18+ MINORS DNI

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥♠♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You better get your girl, Kei!” A very drunk Alexia laughs out, “Before your best friend does.”

Keira’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, her eyes searching out to where her captain’s sights are set. And oh what a sight she is met with— you, her sweet angel, pressed up against Leah on the dance floor. You’re still high off the win, and even more elated from seeing your old english teammates celebrating with you. It’d been quite a day at the UEFA, both of your groups collecting a victory in your matches.

Now here you are, three shots deep and your adrenaline making you act out a lot more than you normally would. You’re usually such a good girl for Keira. An absolute picture perfect sub— admired by all who saw the two of you interact. She loves the way you heed her every word, never arguing or disagreeing when she tells you to do something. So it’s a surprise to her when you just smile at her, and grind your ass back against Leah when she motions for you to come towards her.

Keira feels her jaw clench as her fingers tighten around the glass in her hand, and she makes the continuous decision to set it down before she ends the night early getting stitches. She starts making her way through the crowd, her eyes never leaving yours as she does. Leah’s whispering something in your ear, and you bite your lips at whatever it is. A blush crossing your cheeks as you finally break the intense gaze of your girlfriend. Leah’s hands are circling around your middle now, her palms resting low on your abdomen as she presses you against her even tighter.

You can hear your heart thumping in your ears now. A pit deepens in your stomach as Keira rapidly approaches you, her hand instantly wrapping around your wrist as she yanks you into her body. You stumble at first, your free hand coming up to balence yourself against her chest. You feel like your blood is molten lava under your skin, and you aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or your actions that’s causing the burning sensation to pump through your veins.

Maybe it’s the good girl deep inside of you burning alive from the guilt of acting out…but the sexy look on your girlfriend’s face quickly sweeps that notion from your mind. I mean how could you feel guilty when your pussy is throbbing from the way her nails angrily dig into your skin…you should right? You should feel guilty about how much it turns you on to see her jealous and hot headed with anger, but it doesn’t. It only makes you smile up at her as your hands go behind you to find her best friend, and pull her back against your body.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her hands moves down to your waist as she tightens her grip there, knocking Leah’s away in the process.

“Well, i wasn’t just gonna sit on your lap all night because you didn’t wanna dance with me,” you make sure to roll your eyes as you say it— playing up on the brattiness to test her boundaries in front of company. It feels so much safer to do it with so many eyes on you. Because in your mind, what can she really do to you in a room full of hundreds of people? So it inflates your confidence, your ego, and your desire for her break to you back down into a pliable little sub. It’s like you have a sugar rush from all the praise and sweetness she’s always shown you, but you’re finally coming down from the high…and boy are you crashing HARD. You’re craving to see the rougher side of your sickly sweet girlfriend has been growing steadily for weeks now. At least, ever since she let it slip that she’s a brat tamer during a drunk truth or dare last month.

-

You had called her out with a big hearty laugh, “Oh Kei, come on! You’re like the total opposite of that. You’ve never even raised your voice at me, let alone spank me back into my place!”

“Yeah, because you already know that it’s underneath me. Brats are like wild animals, and you’re more like a house cat, babe. No need to tame a kitten when you’re used to dealing with lions.”

It was like a light went off in your head after that— a deep seated need to broken then put back together by her.

-

Your feet must’ve went into auto pilot, because your brain is just now playing catch up. You hadn’t even realized you’re being dragged through the crowd. At least, not until you hear a chorus of teasing shouts from the mix of your former and current teammates behind you. The door to the bathroom flies open just as Mariona makes sure to yell out for you both to “Usa protección, chicas!”

Keira doesn’t even check to see if all the stalls are empty. She just pushes you into the first one she sees. You go to speak, but you’re cut off by her hand coming up and locking around your throat. “Spread your fucking legs, y/n.”

Your eyes widen at her statement, hesitation clear as you make no move to follow her demands. “B-but we’re in pub—“ you’re cut off by a growl coming out of the older girl in front of you, “And I don’t give a damn, y/n. If you wanna act like a slut, then i’ll treat you like one…” She pushes you up against the stall door, her chest vibrating against yours as she lightly laughs.

“And sluts don’t get fucked on nice comfy beds, do they?” Her eyes flicker up to yours before she leans down to press a couple kisses up your neck. A few more condescending giggles come out of her too, slightly tickling your skin in her wake. When she pulls away it’s like you can see the switch flip behind her eyes, because suddenly her voice is back to being as stern as the look on her face. “They get finger fucked in dirty bathroom stalls with their panties hanging around their ankles.”

[karaeilishh]

could u do college student reader coming home frm uni with her uniform on and billie finding her hot for some reason and fucks her in it?

thank u i love ur works!!!😊🎀

here, baby 🎀

or nah

warnings: smut, oral, strap, degradation, a little possessiveness

w/c: 1k

"gosh, finally," you sigh heavily as you finally see the front door of your house. your house with billie. you smiled, knowing that she was waiting for you. the best part after a hard day at college was when you walked into the house and saw her smile, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist as she kissed you softly. and all the problems in the world didn't matter when you had this.

"babe, i'm home!" you call out, your voice a little tired after a few classes. a few seconds later, you hear her running through the house, meeting you with a loving look that quickly turns into something else. you swear you felt something snap inside her. billie looks at you with hungry eyes, catching on your skirt, your shirt, your tie. you were given a new uniform and she saw you in it for the first time.

"i missed you, angel. very much" she slowly approaches you, not taking her eyes off your body. her hands fall on your waist, squeezing lightly. you notice a playful light in her eyes and it makes you giggle. 

"i missed you too, sweetie. how was your day?" you kiss the corner of her lips softly, noticing how she tenses. her grip on your waist tightens. she smirks and takes your wrist, guiding your hand to her shorts so you can feel what's underneath. 

"billie..." you open your mouth, not expecting her to be so frank in front of you now. she smirks, seeing your reaction. she was amused by your darting eyes and flushed cheeks when she did something like that.  she pushes your college jacket off your shoulders, making you feel naked just under her gaze. "i thought i could control myself but you look so fucking hot in that uniform... i don't like you going out in public like that"

you swallow hard as her hands slowly unbutton the first buttons of your shirt to reveal your white lace bra. "why is your shirt so tight? you look like a fucking slut, starving for attention" billie runs her warm tongue down your neck, your collarbones, between your breasts, making you gasp.

"it's just... just..." you can barely stand up and trying to speak is torture for you. billie chuckles and bites the skin under your collarbone. "it's just... just... so pathetic, baby" she mimics you, making your pussy literally cry. you whine, lighting a fire in her chest.

"i'm gonna devour you" billie scoops you up in her arms, carrying you to the bed in seconds. the ease with which she does it makes your thighs clench. you swear tears welled up in your eyes as she kneels down in front of you. "open"

you immediately obeyed, spreading your weak legs, showing billie the wet spot that had formed on your panties. "slut" she rips the lace off of you, not wasting a second to bury her face between your legs. she runs her tongue along your folds, collecting your arousal.

"fuck, billie..." you arch your back and grab her hair to hold her closer to you. she moves her hand up your body to play with your tits and flicks her tongue against your clit, literally devouring you. "look me in the eyes" she growls, lifting her blue eyes to you.

do you like the way i flick my tongue or nah?

you try your best not to look away from her eyes. she looked like eating your pussy was the only thing in her life, like she could never get enough of you. you move your hips, literally riding her face. and billie likes it more than you do.

you can ride my face until you're drippin' cum.

sometimes she gets wild around you, hungry for your pussy in her mouth. and she won't care if her tongue goes numb or she chokes. she wants to make you cum. she needs to make you cum on her tongue.

"i'm close, billie...please..." tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks as she continues to look at you like that. wildly. she pushes her tongue into you and you come apart on her tongue with a dirty moan, your cum dripping down her chin. "sweet girl."

billie giggles and wipes her face with the back of her hand. she towers over your body, making you swallow hard. her shorts and boxers hang around her ankles as she pushes her strap towards your mouth. "get it ready for you, baby."

can you lick the tip then throat the dick or nah?

you lick your lips and slowly take the tip of her cock into your mouth, making her gasp. your girlfriend had a soft spot for you sucking her fucking cock. "you look so beautiful when your mouth is busy, doll."

her hand flies to your hair, applying gentle pressure to your head. she was gentle until the tip of her strap hit the back of your throat. billie growled in satisfaction, holding your head in place and moving her hips on her own. "that's it, you take my cock so good, baby."

she fucked your face so roughly, like she could feel every movement of your tongue on her cock.

"good girl." she pulled it out softly, wiping away the tears from your face. the entire length of her strap was coated in your saliva, your pussy was so fucking wet, and billie just pushed into your pussy not letting you get used to it.

"billie!" you arch your back and cry out as all 8 inches were inside you. she didn't even bother to take your clothes off, just lifting your skirt up to your waist as she pounded into you at an animalistic pace. "shut up and take it, slut"

you can let me stretch that pussy or nah?

[mechanical-marionette-system]

doing the same as prev bc. I eat rocks or whatever idk

also hey guys we’re back

also also answering in plaintext even tho not shock bc lazy

I’m this really fucked up mix of traumatic and lonelygenic. Like imagine being traumatized and then being left alone for so long that you split like 150 personalities (and probably more fragments) could never be us. Oh wait

a lot

System used to be all introjects except like one guy (who was the “original” lol) now theres like 4 non-introjects

Shock can do what he wants with the place and nobody else can do jack shit

two of em. The first is like 5 versions of Evbo and one other guy and the second is. Have you ever played slay the princess

yea, all of them are dormant tho so it’s hard to remember how many

Me and a whole bunch of other people discovered at around the same time bc Maryland informed us it’s actually not normal to hear voices

I think roles are handy. We would use them if any of us actually fit into specific roles

imma be real I’ve only ever used the shittier wiki on fandom so idk

Simplyplural. Bad abt keeping track tho

kind of. We’re fairly certain that shock kinda fell apart at some point and then formed back together slightly different, but he’s always been the host.

Mechanical Marionette System. (You never would’ve guessed lol) not saying why we picked it tho cause it kinda sucks to talk about

Robots, cats, monsters, all sorts of guys. And even most of the humanoid ones aren’t fully human, I think

Shock says there’s a cat or two who hang out around his personal part of headspace, but I haven’t been there yet, so I can’t confirm or deny the truth of that

Hhh. I don’t actually know shit abt myself yet (I formed two days ago shut your fuck up) but shock, who is in co-con, marches instead of walking normally for some fucking reason (it’s because of mcr brainrot) (what the fuck is mcr)

No.

Well yk how shock used to run like 8 million gimmick blogs? He thought Yahooo and Evil Yahoo Mail were headmates for a while (they were, in fact, not. Shock just gets way too into roleplaying.)

I mean I wouldn’t say we have like. Any talents that not everyone can do at least a little, but we do all have slightly different handwriting (shock writes in cursive cause he’s working on his cursive so he has much fancier writing than everyone else rn)

idk, not anything specific

see the above

I mean I don’t really know I formed like 2 days ago and I know a total of like 5 people

I don’t think so (I also don’t know)

this is actually killing me dude I don’t know these yet I formed 2 day ago

Not really. Shock says he’s been happy with the way we are, and probably will continue to be unless something crazy irrevocably changes things

funny thing- we all participate in each other’s fandoms, but few of us participate in our own.

i mean. I’m pretty sure all of us are atheist except for like. Shock, Tommy, and maybe Q. (And that other guy who’s like halfway between being a fragment and fully formed rn) we just kinda cope ig cause shock got the body to be an essential part of the local faith community and we can’t really leave without fucking a few people over now

I’m guessing we’ll let shock handle those things. Or maybe hold a vote if there’s any real discourse over it

not really. I mean I think shock wants to decorate headspace for Christmas but the system only formed like a year and a half ago, so we really just haven’t had time to start any

no (body’s dad took Spotify off our phone like 2 days before I formed ): )

not any that’s good enough to share. YET

i mean. Most of us get along well or just don’t talk, but on the rare occasions that real fights happen, Shock uses his superior command of headspace to break it up.

not really, other than the fact that I’m a lot more mentally distinct than some of the others. I mean some other guys have things like that tho (shock marches and writes in cursive a lot, Tommy and the long quiet subsystem are British)

we don’t, but if we did I don’t think they would use it if for no other reason then that it’s a bit difficult to read.

cat (: also wrote the first half of this post

a mix of both. Nobody has a unique interest, but not everyone has all the interests, I guess?

Slay the princess, if the subsystem counts each member separately, or undertale /deltarune if not

caitie

no

Bonezz. Xe was the first non-introject (other than shock)

well kinda

aroace

idk, probably one of the masc-aligning ones

aroace. All of us

simplyplural

yeah, to a degree

depends on circumstance

we experience a shotload of non-system-related amnesia but no system-related amnesia. Which is funny cause it’s the opposite for most people, I think

idk shock does all sorts of batshit crazy things all the time

hbbh. Vanilla probably

shock is dead scared of bugs, even the harmless ones

hmmmmm… orange (“but petey!” You might say. “Orange isn’t an aesthetic-“ fuck you, it is now)

not that we can tell

nope

we don’t have any syskids, but if we did I’m guessing we would all share that responsibility.

nah

i mean. We really don’t tend to switch when we’re in the middle of something, not sure why (although we’ve switched like 8 times while filling this out but shut up) so I don’t really know.

yeah, usually. Especially without amnesia barriers, it’s kind of hard to tell when we’ve switched.

often. It usually just means there’s like a million people co-fronting for us, though, so we just. Idk deal with it

no. Well. Not really

don’t have rn, may add later

Long system ask game!

Because it's been ages since we made one and we felt like it.

What type of system are you?

How many people are there in your system?

Do you have more introjects or non-introjects?

How much control do you have over your headspace (if you have one)?

Do you have any subsystems?

Do you have any in-system couples?

How did you discover your systemhood? Or did you become one on purpose?

How do you feel about system roles, and do you use them?

What are your thoughts on Pluralpedia?

Do you use anything to keep track of switching?

Have you ever had a change in hosts?

Do you have a system name? How did you pick it?

Do you have any nonhuman members? Feel free to list their species!

Do you have any headspace pets?

Current fronter/fronters, share some random info about you!

Do you have a partner system? How did you meet?

Have you ever mistaken a character of yours for a headmate? What about the other way around?

Does anyone have any skills that the others don't?

What's something y'all tend to agree on?

What about something you tend to disagree on?

Do symptoms of neurodivergencies/mental illness tend to manifest the same way or differently among headmates?

Do you have any syskids?

Share an in-system joke!

Has how you view your plurality changed?

If you have fictives, do they participate in their source fandom? If yes, are they open about who they are in fandom spaces?

How do you handle headmates having different spiritual beliefs?

How do you decide on major life decisions (where to live, what to study, what work to have, etc)?

Do you have any system traditons?

Current fronter, do you have your own playlist? Feel free to share it!

Do you have any art of anyone in the system? Feel free to show it off!

How do you handle it when people in the system don't get along?

Current fronter, is there anything that makes it obvious you're the one fronting? (Voice, accent, body language, typing style, etc)

If you have syskids, how do they feel about stereotypical "babby tawk"?

Share something about your newest member!

Do you tend to have collective or separate interests and hobbies?

If you have introjects, what source do you have the most from?

Are you out as plural to anyone irl?

Do you know any systems irl?

Which headmate was the biggest surprise?

Do you have a singletsona?

Do you have any collective labels?

What's the most common gender in your system?

What's the most common sexuality in your system?

What's your favorite app/website/etc for plural stuff?

Do you tend to have the same taste in food or not?

Is it hard or easy for you to switch?

Do you experience system-related amnesia?

Share something weird a headmate has done!

Current fronter, what's your favorite ice cream flavor?

Share a silly fear someone in the system has!

Current fronter, describe your aesthetic!

If you have outworld pets, do they tend to act differently around different headmates?

Has anyone ever figured out you were a system without you telling them?

When it comes to syskids, is there anyone in particular that takes care of them?

Does anyone in the system identify as otherkin, therian, or fictionkin?

Have you ever switched in an awkward moment? What happened?

Do you ever switch without realizing it?

Are you ever blurry? How do you handle it?

Has anyone ever treated an introject badly because of who their source is?

Current fronter, share a pic of your "face claim!"

[weemietime]

https://www.tumblr.com/weemietime/767670429687152640?source=share

I suppose it was easy for me to fall into the Hamasnik trap due to my habit of black and white thinking, which I wish I could blame on my autism, my ocd, or my horrible mental state, but I’m just incredibly stupid lol. But yeah, I was very much a hamasnik myself.

For some reason my mind refused to accept or recognise the nuance of a history that I wasn't even well versed on in the first place. I also think that the constant reductionism presented to me played a part. There’s a lot of reductionism that goes on within the Hamasnik circles, and it goes hand in hand with anti intellectualism. Statements like “this isn’t complex! How can you see these videos of these Palestinian children (videos that I later found out were actually from Syria, but I couldn’t tell, I just ate it up) and think that Israel/Palestine is complex!”

The whole thing of blocking everyone who has a different opinion or ideology (the ideology in question being Zionism, or at least what hamasniks consider to be Zionism) from you and refusing to follow certain news channels because they’ve shown sympathy for those who have a different ideology from you, refusing to read certain books from authors who have expressed empathy for those same people, all of this together effectively creates an echo chamber of the same opinions and views being regurgitated over and over and over again constantly.

Then sprinkle in constant videos of people dying and blood everywhere, videos that you don’t even know where the people are from, whether they be from Gaza, from Syria, Lebanon, or Yemen, but it doesn’t matter because they speak Arabic so it MUST be about the Gazans specifically according to the Hamasnik group you’re apart of, all of these videos you’re being told to constantly watch over and over again because according to the Hamasnik cult you’re in, “if you look away from the violence even ONCE, you’re complicit in genocide! You’re personally responsible for genocide if you look away! The people in Gaza never get a mental health break or comfort so why should you?”

That very same rhetoric is the reason why a lot of you Jewish people can’t find yourself able to escape on fandom spaces and shit like that, the antisemitism you encounter in spaces you thought you were safe in? Yeah it’s because these people are being told that they have to constantly talk about what’s going on in every single space they’re in and that they can’t look away because if they do, they’re considered complicit in the killing of Gazans so they have to let everyone else know the same.

There are a lot of people who are purposefully antisemitic, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me excusing anyone. I’m just saying that a number of these people genuinely believe that they’re doing something for the greater good by constantly being antisemitic. They don’t consider themselves antisemitic because the echo chamber they’re in has convinced them that Jewish people aren’t experiencing anything, that Jewish people are fine. That it’s the “big bad” that they’re hurting, not the Jews. It’s the “big and scary Zionists!” At least that’s what happened in my case. Constantly told that if I took a break even once, the blood of the Gazans, the blood of every. single. person in Gaza, would be on my own two hands.

You might not believe me, but when you’ve trapped a person in an echo chamber like that, it’s very easy to convince them that an entire country is evil, that every single Israeli is wicked and corrupt and should die and that anyone who expresses an ounce of empathy for them is a “Zionist” and should die as well.

You could’ve told me anything a few months ago. Absolutely anything bad about Israelis and I would’ve believed you. Because I’d scroll social media and see videos of children dying, people being beaten, buildings being destroyed, everything. Then I’d scroll some more and see videos of Israelis doing everyday things, videos of people having fun, videos of people eating, etc, and I found it so unfair that they (according to hamasnik rhetoric) were living in absolute peace while Palestinians are dying right next to them. Then I’d scroll some more and see videos of the IDF (I actually don’t even know if the videos were even of the IDF or not, but as I said, you could’ve told me anything and I’d have believed you. I genuinely believed that it was the IDF) shooting people, beating people, etc. And I was told to look at these videos everyday, every hour, every minute, every second. A lot of the Hamasnik mouthpieces take advantage of the average westerner’s inability to understand Arabic or Hebrew, so there’s a lot of mistranslated videos of Israelis saying they want every Arab dead, a lot of mistranslated Al Jazeera videos of people in Amsterdam for example, saying “يهودي قذر" (dirty Jew) with the wrong captions on and then us non Arabic speaking cult trapped people are none the wiser to what that means because we refuse to engage with any sources that won’t fit our narrative, because we’re complicit in death if we step outside the narrative.

I don’t believe that Zionists should die, but I did. I don’t believe that the hostages should suffer, but I did. I truly believed the worst of things, and perpetuated horrible antisemitism, because I genuinely believed that I was doing good. I found myself justifying unspeakable acts, and saying unspeakable things, things that I would have whole heartedly condemned prior, because I genuinely thought I was doing something right. For example, prior to me falling into that cultish trap, I would’ve wholeheartedly condemned saying a slur coined by David fucking Duke. But after? As I said, I was doing and saying unspeakable things.

I would watch videos from Hamasniks everyday, perpetuate antisemitism everyday, go to sleep and dream about that stuff, and wake up and do it all again, first thing in the morning. A vicious cycle.

And unknowingly somewhere else around the world, some Jewish or Israeli person would wake up, witness antisemitism everyday, witness people wishing the worst upon the hostages, the Jews, the Israelis, the Zionists, everyday, go to sleep terrified for what’s happening to their people, and wake up and see it all again first thing in the morning. Another vicious cycle.

I wish I had a better answer for you, I do. An answer that’s more digestible and less disturbing. I wish I could undo everything that I’ve said and done to the people I’ve hurt whether that be in real life or online. I truly am sorry, and I wish that an apology would fix everything, but it won’t. I wish that all the pain I inflicted on all the Jewish people and Israeli people could be taken away and that I would feel that pain tenfold.

If it’s any consolation or solace, I hate myself more than any of you combined. There is nobody who hates me more than me at this current moment in time and I absolutely do deserve every ounce of pain inflicted upon me, whether it be mental or physical. If you wish death upon me, just know that I do agree with you, but unfortunately previous attempts have failed.

I deleted all of my old posts from that period of time to avoid people getting hurt by them anymore, but I think I’ve done too much damage for me to be a good ally, so I just say nothing now, but I truly do wish the best for all of you and I wish that all of this would stop and that the hostages will be found, hopefully alive.

My apologies for writing a whole Bible in your asks, I truly didn’t mean to.

TLDR - reductionism and anti-intellectualism combined with trapping yourself in an echo chamber of regurgitated rhetoric and constantly regurgitating said rhetoric is a quick way to find yourself dabbling in extremism.

To avoid falling into a trap such as this, avoid generalisations of races, ethnic groups, and the like, look for nuance, try hear people out even when you don’t understand them, instead of blocking them (this is in reference to me blocking every single person who opposed my hamasnik ideology at the time. You should probably block hamasniks, they tend to harass Jewish people a lot), and remember that if someone tells you that a whole war isn’t complex, they’re lying. It absolutely is.

I hope you've been able to see the other responses your other ask has gotten as well! Truly, you aren't someone who I hate. Personally, I do forgive you. Other people may not, and that's their right. But I know first-hand what it's like to be radicalized and to not only commit to extreme rhetoric but also extreme actions. I've learned to have compassion for myself, and I hope that with time you will undergo a similar process.

Someone else said it, "you can't hate yourself into being a better person." All of us, as beings, grow with love and kindness. War is hard it's horrific, and hellish. You're constantly exposed to this violent imagery, this extreme rhetoric, and your whole friend groups are getting in on it. I understand exactly how it happens, and I do have sympathy for it.

To me, the most important part of your story isn't the worst shit you've ever done. It's this part. The part where you learn how to be better, and so you do better, and reach out across the divides and bridge those gaps that have formed. That is a very human story.

[aves-rook-laidir]

I can feel myself becoming more and more familiar with DaTV now, like, the characters are becoming more familiar. I find myself thinking about them when I’m going about my day, filling in the gaps of who they are with my own headcanons. Like, did you know Emmrich is deaf in his left ear? He got slammed in his first week of combat training as an Apprentice. He was so annoyed about this that from that point on he worked really hard to practice combat, and to his, and everyone else surprise, was brilliant at it. It’s funny really, that this calm, gentle professor known for floating around picking flowers can knock you off your feet if you test him. Taash was the first to pick up on it, they didn’t bring it up just started fighting on his left.

Or Davrin, he keeps pushing off Bellaras attempts to talk to him about the gods, because he just can’t think about it. If he did it would be like a waterfall. He spent the most formative years of his life caring for Halla in the forest, Ghilan’nain is the Mother of Halla! His clan lived and breathed her worship, whether or not he keeps religion now, her presence is interweaved throughout his childhood, and it was all crap, she was nothing more than a psychopath mage, he can’t think about it.

Hallas make Bellara sneeze, but she denies it.

Lucanis was so overwhelmed that he missed his shot at Weisshaupt it took him nearly a day to utter a word to any of them, he left to be on his own as soon as possible and the moment he was alone he had a panic attack.

Harding often thinks back to Haven, and when the inquisition was just stating out. How she had thought back then that Varric and Solas were old friends, they way they walked together in the hinterlands, chatting about nothing in particular, felt so…comfortable. She misses those days terribly.

Neve didn’t lose her leg in some fantastic battle against the Venatori or a Dragon fight, she was just born without it. Sometimes people are just born different.

When Rook awoke from Solas telling her the truth about the Archdemons, she was so stunned and in shock that when she walked down the stairs to discuss with the others, she fell down them much to everyone’s alarm.

Having to fight a dragon in Treviso almost immediately after meeting cemented a close connection between Rook and Davrin, literally thrown into hell together.

Dorian was the only one able to get anywhere close to that dragon in Minrathos, managed to get a hit square in its eye, but it wasn’t enough. The Iron Bull was in the city the week before, but by the time the dragon attacked he was halfway to the Free Marches.

They all regularly play cards and games around the dining room table.

Taash keeps a small sketchbook on them where they likes to draw all the dragons they meets, they also pets every dog and cat they come across. They sneak hugs from Assan when they think no one is looking.

Emmrich gets Bellara to talk academic theory with him a lot as a form of distraction because he knows she lies awake at night having a never ending crisis of faith.

Bellara often worries and frets that Lucanis isn’t eating enough even though he’s feeding everyone. Lucanis worries the same thing about her.

Lucanis is dyslexic as fuck got really self conscious about how long it was taking him to read one of Neves novels, well, until he realised he literally wasn’t being judge at all actually.

Harding grows elf root to smoke it. Dream blunt rotation to be honest.

Communicating with the dead the way Emmrich does is harder than it looks, it takes a lot of stamina and if the connection is held for too long he’s prone to nosebleeds.

They spar and practice combat in the courtyard in front of the dining hall, usually one v one with the others sitting on the steps watching. Neve keeps encouraging them to take bets.

When Aves sleeps on the green couch, she often wakes up to find Assan curled up nearby. Either that or Emmrich hovering over her because she was screaming in her sleep again and he could hear her in the next room.

Taash and Bellara I’m still working on.

[planetpedri]

Ur so pretty — Jamal Musiala.

Pairing: Jamal Musiala x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jamal was your first love and with that came the fear of abandonment. But, Jamal was here to stay and he made sure you knew that.

Word count: 890+

Disclaimer/s: light angst , comfort , and mostly fluff !

A/N: this is my literal wife like im in love w him also listened to a lot of ‘ur so pretty’ by waisa project when i was writing this so. yeah.

When you and Jamal met for the first time, you were accompanying your friend on a double date. You weren’t looking for love or anything close to that but your friend was nervous and needed the comfort of your presence.

The problem lied in the fact that you had never dated before. Sure, you’d been on dates, but nothing had ever surpassed that singular date.

Jamal had swept you off your feet—literally. He wasn’t looking where he was going and tripped you. You’d nearly fallen on your face when he caught you, arms wrapping around your waist so he could hoist you back up.

The moment your eyes met you felt an unfamiliar warmth gather in the pit of your stomach, nerves rattling your body. He made you nervous in a weird way you’d never felt before.

It had taken two weeks for him to contact you again, and you were waiting.

Now, six and a half months later, you were dating—had been for four months now.

Sitting on the couch in his living room, you patiently waited for him to get home. He was training late today, so you’d opted for making dinner and sticking it in the fridge for him to heat up when he got home. The TV played a show you recently started; ‘Scandal’, which you were so engrossed in you didn’t realize Jamal had arrived.

He stood in the entry way, watching you curiously with a grin. He liked to watch you when you weren’t aware of him—not in a creepy way, he just loved to see you when you weren’t conscious of people and relaxed.

He’d been standing there for too long so he knew the second he spoke you’d spook. So instead he slips back out the door as quietly as possible, opening it and calling out for you, “i’m home!”

You turned around with a wide smile, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. “Hey! Hi, how was practice? Dinner is in the fridge!”

“Practice was fine, exhausted though. What’d you make?” Jamal asks, wondering into the kitchen where you meet him. He pulls you into a hug, pressing his lips to yours.

Smiling into the kiss, you mumble, “some healthy crap, your dietician would be very pleased with it.”

Jamal pulls away with a breathy laugh, “you can just make something we both like, i’ll just hit the gym extra hard later on.”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. I already made my own delicious food. That healthy stuff, that is only for you.”

Moving to the fridge you open it, taking out the food, and placing it on the counter. “You may heat it up while I make myself a smoothie.”

Jamal’s arms wrap around your waist, your back pressing against his as he places a few kisses on your shoulder. One thing about your boyfriend was that he was very affectionate. He hadn’t always been so touchy, but he made more of an effort when he learned about your doubts in your relationship.

Although those concerns had dwindled, he hadn’t strayed an inch. He comforted you with everything, he said the sweetest things. Essentially, he went above and beyond to prove that what he felt for you was not going away and time soon—if ever.

“Go make your food.” You giggle, wiggling out of his grasp. “I need my smoothie.”

“You and your smoothies.” Your boyfriend tittered. “Is it Strawberry or—“ You give him a look that has his lips twitching, “right. Why do I even bother asking.”

Reaching for strawberries in the freezer, you smirk. “Exactly. Have I ever told you how much I love and adore your full fridge and freezer? You always have everything.”

“Yeah, well, I try.”

As the microwave hums while heating up Jamal’s food, you prepare to make your smoothie. Conversations flow between the two of you even as he eats and the whirring of the blender—which you stop every few moments to add to the conversation.

“How’s your show? By the way?”

Your face lightens up, “so good. I’m on season two right now. When I finish the whole show, i’m forcing you to watch it.” Your finger points in his direction with a teasing tip of your lip.

Jamal’s eyebrows raise, “oh? Well, anything for you.” His words brings a prideful smile to your face.

“And this is why I love you!” You quip, your smug look falling the second you comprehend what you said. Too early. Too—

Jamal’s expression doesn’t miss a beat, his eyes flicker up to you. “I love you, too.”

Oh! Thats a comfort. Sort of?

“Was that too early? I should’ve waited.” You swallow thickly. You watch as he slips off the stool he was sitting on, wiping his hands on his pants, and walks around the counter to reach your side.

“It’s perfect timing, actually.” He assures, his hands cupping your jaw to pull you into a loving kiss. “I. Love. You.” He mumbles each time he pulled away.

A dreamy sigh leaves your lips, “you are so fortunately—for me, perfect.”

The taller man smiles, “and i’m so fortunately, your boyfriend.” Your heart grows three sizes as you meet his eyes. Any lingering doubt or insecurity you held about the future of your relationship died with that kiss and his words.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @joaoflms @hrts4havertz @spidybaby

[winwintea]

my apology letter

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ heavy angst. some fluff. no happy ending this is a breakup fic you have been warned

SUMMARY ↬ Chenle always thought that love truly wins all. Your relationship with him was filled with joy and connection. But lately, cracks have begun form. Between small misunderstandings, unspoken frustrations, and the growing sense that he’s not enough for you, Chenle begins to doubt his theory. Is love enough to bridge the gaps between you or is letting go the ultimate act of love?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.0k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ i'm sorry in advance !!!! not really. suffer. happy birthday chenle. i hate (love) you so. very. very. much. title and fic based on my apology letter by kim yeon woo!

PLAYLIST ↬ my apology letter - kim yeon woo, who - lauv (feat. bts), lie with you - ten, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, the scientist - coldplay

CHENLE SITS DOWN, AND BEGINS WRITING HIS LETTER.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s sat in this exact seat. It used to be different. So different. At first it was nice. You were beautiful in every way possible. Kind, patient, and thoughtful. You always made him feel like the most important person in the world, even while surrounded by others. This table was a place of warmth, laughter, and love. Now the mood was only as tense as ever. 

He takes a deep breath, letting his thoughts consume him as he begins to write. 

I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

He remembers how the mornings would go. You’d both sit at the table, sharing a simple warm breakfast that you or him had prepared. All that really seemed to matter was the two of you in that moment of time.  

He looked at you, the sunlight reflecting off of your face. You were always smiling at your phone, lips quirking as your fingers began typing. You placed your phone against your chest after hitting send, waiting for him to react. 

As Chenle was absentmindedly scrolling through the news, he noticed a notification pop up on his screen.

My Love: “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

Quiet, huh? You always enjoyed texting him to get his attention. Thought it was funny. He looked up to see you smiling at him with a concerned expression. Not wanting you to worry too much Chenle smiled and shook his head, but did not say anything else.

The two of you continued eating in silence. 

Chenle sets down the pen, this burden in his chest growing heavier. Where did it all go wrong with you two?

The two of you used to be inseparable. Days consisted of stolen glances, shared jokes, silly photos and videos, small moments that brought this intimacy together. Now, you barely interact with each other, barely talk to each other. His mind drifts to details of last night. 

You sat on the floor, folding the laundry in front of the TV. Your movements were slow and graceful, thoughtfully folding every article of clothing. Chenle sat on the couch behind you, staring mindlessly at the TV, playing some show he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t look at you, you didn’t look at him.

The silence was tense and deafening, yet neither of you made moves to break it.

Chenle picks up the pen again with a stronger grip.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

Chenle’s mind drifts to a day where everything seemed perfect, but always something tugging at the back of his mind.

The amusement park date. Your laughter was vibrant and warm, eyes sparked with determination as you tossed beanbags, threw balls at cans, aimed darts, always determined to best him. The two of you definitely had a competitive streak, but Chenle always made the sacrifice for you. You ended up winning a small stuffed dolphin, holding it high above your head like a trophy.

Chenle mock pouted, and laughed, “Guess I’ll stick to basketball.” He pulled you into his arms, the dolphin nearly squished between you as he pecked your cheek, while the two of you broke out into fits of giggles. 

But even in the moment of happiness and joy, there was still something eating at him from inside. 

Chenle grips his pen tighter as he recalls those fleeting moments of joy, moments that now feel bittersweet. He lets the ink flow on the paper again, writing some more.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

Later that evening, the two of you had dinner at your favorite restaurant. Chenle thinks about the way your face lit up when the waiter placed your meal in front of you. He could never get over these small things that you did that make his heart feel giddy as well. 

You slipped out your phone and took a photo of the meal, sending it to him with a caption to the photo.

My Love: [Photo Attached]

My Love: "We should make this at home sometime! You’re practically a chef. 😊"

Chenle chuckled, replying out loud, “Only if you clean it up afterwards.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you dove into your meal. For a while, everything felt easy, like it used to.

But then you got home.

It started with something small. Just a simple misunderstanding about weekend plans. Chenle couldn’t even remember the exact details now, only how frustrated he felt when his words seemed to fall short. He’d tried to explain, stumbling over his thoughts, but the look on your face never changed. You remained calm, patient, nodding along as if you understood every word.

You always did that—nodded and smiled. But had you really understood him?

Chenle sets the pen down again, and stares at the words he just wrote on the page.

"You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner."

He swallows hard, glancing toward the bedroom door. The stuffed dolphin you won that day lay peacefully tucked away in the closet. It reminds you of the time when things were simpler, or maybe just felt that way.

He stares at the words, hoping they’ll somehow fix what’s broken. But words alone aren’t enough.

They never have been.

Chenle’s been so lost in his memories and thoughts that he hasn’t noticed how much time has passed. He lifts his head and sees you standing in the kitchen. You’ve been here the whole time.

Preparing a lunch for the two of you, you move quietly, chopping the vegetables and stirring a pot on the stove. He barely hears your movements, soft and careful. He wonders if you feel the tension between you two as acutely as he does.

And for that moment, he just watches you. Your posture is relaxed, your head tilted slightly as if you’re caught in your own world. You seem so at peace, and it breaks him.

Chenle wants to reach out to you. To stop this moment from becoming what he knows it has to be. He wants to take your hand, to hold on to you just a little longer. But he knows that’s selfish. This cannot wait.

He swallows hard, his throat tightening as he tears his gaze away from you. His hands clenched into fists on the table, fingers trembling slightly. This is it. 

Taking a deep breath, Chenle forces himself to speak. His voice is low, almost breaking, the words that come out of his mouth are barely audible.

“Y/N, let’s break up.”

Chenle had been distant lately, but you didn’t press him. He always had this quiet side to him, and you figured he’d come around when he was ready. You trusted him.

Lunch was extra special today. You were making tteok-bokki—Chenle’s favorite. It wasn’t a particularly hard dish, but he appreciated the effort you put in for it. You focused on the ingredients, the soft sizzle of the stove and the aroma that filled the kitchen. Smells like these made everything feel brighter.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce until it thickened just right. He had taught you how to make the dish originally, cooking it to perfection until you got it just the way he liked it.

You glanced over your shoulder at him briefly. He was at the dining table, hunched over something. A notebook? His phone? You couldn’t tell. He didn’t look up.

It wasn’t like him to be so withdrawn. He’d always try—he’d send funny memes or silly videos to make you smile. Lately, though, his texts had seemed less and less. You told yourself he was just busy, and would make time as usual to make it up to you.

When the food was nearly ready, you began washing the dishes in the sink, suddenly remembering something you’d been meaning to ask. You turned around, leaning slightly on the counter, and smiled.

“Chenle,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “Take off early for work today and let’s go out to eat dinner together, alright?”

Your hands begin to move, signing something quickly as you mouthed the words out, the gestures being full of emotion to convey your thoughts and feelings. It was your way of making sure he understood. He didn’t know a lot of sign language, but he always made the effort to try and guess.

He initially looked at you with a serious face, his lips in a tight thin line. His eyes were conflicted. Why he looked so pained for some reason, you had no idea. But as soon as you started signing his lips curved into a smile once more, a familiar smile that you loved looking at all day long. 

Eventually after no reaction, Chenle seemed to process your words and nodded his head. He held his hand up in a ‘ok’ position to ensure that he had understood and got the memo. 

Pleased with his response, you turned back around and finished up your task in the kitchen. 

Chenle had asked you to prepare him lunch. You suggested his favorite. He needed this moment to himself, to let the words leave his mouth and test the weight of them in the air.

“Let’s break up,” he had whispered while your back was turned. The words had tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue, their weight heavier than he could have anticipated.

But you hadn’t heard him.

You’d been deaf since the moment he met you. He could still remember your first conversation. It was brief and awkward, with you typing out sentences on your phone and holding the screen in front of him. He’d smiled at how patient you were. A patience you still had today. From that moment, he was hooked.

Yet now, after all this time, he hated himself for how little he’d tried to understand you better.

Chenle leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The guilt felt like a heavy weight, weighing his shoulders down.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. But it wasn’t enough. Love alone wasn’t enough to bridge the gap of happiness between the two of you.

He thought about all the times you had signed something to him, your gestures full of emotion, but he could only guess their meaning. You never scolded him for not understanding, never grew angry when he needed you to repeat yourself or resort to texting instead. You were always kind and understanding. Patient and calm. 

But you shouldn’t have to be patient. You shouldn’t have to wait for him to change. You shouldn’t have to wait this long. 

He had taken advantage of your patience, convincing himself that things would work out eventually. He would catch on quickly. Or so he thought. 

He had barely scratched the surface of learning sign language, and didn’t put in as much effort as he should’ve. 

He wasn’t enough for her. His mind flooded with these thoughts and revelations. These words were sharp and seemed to pierce his heart, filling him with immense pain.

The gap between his hearing and your not hearing had grown too large, too large to ignore. At first, he had thought together you could leap over it, that your love would be enough. But he was wrong.

You deserved someone who would dive into that gap and build a bridge, piece by piece, brick by brick. Someone who would work to understand every gesture, every look you made, every unspoken word.

He wasn’t that person. He would never be that person.

Chenle glanced at the letter on the table, the words he had written laid out before his own eyes. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t find a way to do it face to face. Not properly. Not without him breaking down. 

Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to say the words. Call him a coward. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t even say he wanted to break up with you outright. Yet he wasn’t brave enough to stay and keep letting you down.

He heard you call his name again, your voice soft and light, the way you always spoke just for him. Your hands moved as you spoke, signing the words with ease, your face glowing after looking at him. 

And in that moment, he realized: no matter who he met in the future, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.

But that love wasn’t enough.

The apartment felt emptier than ever when you walked in one day after work. 

You’d noticed the change the moment you opened the door: the subtle shift in the air, the absence of his shoes by the entrance, the way the quiet seemed louder than usual, some space seemed emptier than you remembered. Your chest tightened as you stepped further inside looking around the living room.

That’s when you saw it.

A neatly folded envelope sat on the table, your name written on it in Chenle’s familiar handwriting. Beside it, the small dolphin you’d won at the amusement park laid out next to the letter on the table, its glossy black eyes staring back up at you.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your hands trembling as you picked up the envelope. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you stood there, staring at the letter, trying to steady your breathing for a bit. You knew this was coming. You tried to ignore the signs, but you were correct.

When you finally sat down, it was in the same chair Chenle always used. You never sat in it, since it always seemed like his spot. The cushion still felt warm somehow, as though he had been there just moments ago. You placed the envelope on the table in front of you, staring at it for what felt like an eternity before you finally gathered enough courage to open it.

The letter was written in his careful handwriting, each word deliberate, each line heavy with emotion. As you began to read, tears blurred your vision.

My dearest Y/N,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. I know you probably saw it coming—I’ve been distant for a while now. And I know you deserve more than this. A goodbye in words rather than on a page. But this is the only way I could say everything I need to. 

From the moment I met you, you were the brightest part of my life. You lit up every room you walked into. You taught me so much about patience, about kindness, about love.

And I failed you.

Things have been different, haven’t you noticed? I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

I’ve tried to convince myself that our love would be enough to bridge the gap between us, that I could make up for my shortcomings. But the truth is, I haven’t. I’ve barely tried to learn about you and your world. You’ve carried so much of the burden, of the weight of our relationship, and I just let you.

You deserve someone who won’t let you do that. Someone who will learn every gesture, every sign there is in the vocabulary of sign language, who will work tirelessly to meet you where you are.

That someone isn’t me.

I hate myself for not being enough for you. I hate that I couldn’t give you what you deserve. And I hate that my love for you isn’t enough to fix this.

You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

I hope that someday, you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who will put in the effort I didn’t, someone who will never let you feel alone.

I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N. I just hope that letting you go gives you the chance to find the happiness I couldn’t give you.

I’m so sorry.

- Chenle

Your hands trembled, shaking the letter slightly, your tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape, but it was no use.

The dolphin on the table stared back at you as if it held all the memories you’d shared—the laughter, the quiet moments, the love.

You folded the letter carefully, placing it back in the envelope as your tears continued to fall. Sitting there in the silence, you felt the weight of his absence settle around you.

And yet, even through the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him.

Because you understood. And that hurt the most.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sleepyvic @chenlesfavorite (u too pookie)

[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact—

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; After Sam insisted you accompany her to the club, you finally agreed, hoping it would help you move past everything that happened with Axel. However, a peculiar interaction with Kwon set off a series of unforeseen events that caught you entirely off guard.

Warnings ; Alcohol usage

Pt. 3

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

‘Come onnnn, Y/n, don’t be boring,’ Sam whined, her voice dripping with exaggerated desperation as she gave me a firm shake. I was curled up tightly in my blanket, fully immersed in the comfort of my couch and a random movie that I wasn’t even paying much attention to. Her relentless persistence was beginning to chip away at my patience.

‘No,’ I replied flatly, shaking my head with finality. Sam was on a mission to drag me to the club tonight, but the idea of stepping into that crowded, chaotic environment was unappealing—especially because I’d seen Zara’s story earlier. She was there with her team, and of course, Axel was with her. The thought of seeing him so soon made my stomach churn. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Tomorrow would already be challenging enough, and I needed time to steel myself mentally for what was inevitably going to be an awkward encounter.

‘Please, Y/n!!!’ Sam’s tone shifted to a dramatic plea as she sank to her knees, hands clasped together like she was begging for her life. Her exaggerated antics might have been amusing under different circumstances, but right now, they only added to my irritation. I barely glanced in her direction, still shaking my head in defiance.

Despite her theatrics, I remained unmoved. The mere thought of Axel lingering in the same room as me tonight was enough to make my resolve unshakable. Yet, as persistent as Sam was, I knew she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Sam groaned dramatically, throwing herself onto the couch beside me, her arm draped across her face like the world had just come crashing down.

‘You’re such a buzzkill,’ she huffed, peeking at me from under her arm. ‘It’s one night, Y/n. Just one. You don’t even have to stay long, I swear. And let’s be real, you’re going to look amazing in that dress you bought on our first day here in Barcelona. It’s way too stunning to be wasted.’

I looked up from my cocoon of blankets, unimpressed. ‘The dress is still in the bag, Sam. And I’m wearing sweatpants.’

‘And that’s fixable,’ she shot back without missing a beat. ‘Ten minutes, max. I’ll help you get ready, you’ll look incredible, we’ll dance a little, and—’

I cut her off with a flat tone, ‘And I’ll have to deal with Axel.’

Her teasing expression faltered for a moment, the dramatic air she carried around her suddenly softening. Her voice was gentler now, almost careful. ‘Y/n, you don’t have to talk to him. You don’t even have to look at him. Zara’s going to be busy with her team, and Axel… well, let’s just say he’d be a fool to let anything ruin your night. He’s not worth it.’

I hugged my blanket tighter, staring at the muted movie playing on the screen. I wanted to go—part of me really did—but the idea of seeing Axel tonight made my stomach churn. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to handle him; I just wasn’t ready. Not yet. Tomorrow, I’d have no choice but to face him, and that was already weighing on me. How could I mentally prepare for that if I had to deal with him tonight, too?

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air between us. Then, she shifted, sitting upright and leaning toward me with a small, knowing smile.

Sam’s knowing smile widened as she leaned closer, her energy impossible to resist. ‘Listen,’ she said, her voice soft and encouraging. ‘We’ll keep it simple. Just get up, put on that stunning dress, and I’ll help you with everything else. Trust me, you’re going to feel amazing. We’ll have fun, and you’ll completely forget about… well, you-know-who.’

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the chair where the shopping bag from earlier this week sat. Inside was the dress I’d bought on our first day here in Barcelona. It was from a cozy little boutique we’d stumbled across while wandering the streets—full of warm lighting, vintage mirrors, and racks of carefully curated pieces. The moment I’d seen the dress, I knew it was something special. It wasn’t flashy, but the soft white fabric and simple elegance had caught my attention. Sam had encouraged me to try it on, and though I’d hesitated, I couldn’t stop smiling once I saw myself in it.

‘I don’t know…’ I started, fiddling with the edge of my blanket.

‘Y/n,’ Sam said firmly, her tone kind but insistent. ‘You loved that dress. Don’t let it sit there when you could be out feeling as amazing as you look in it.’

Her words were enough to push me into motion. I sighed, tossing off the blanket and rising from the couch. ‘Okay, fine. But if this night turns into a disaster, I’m blaming you.’

Sam grinned triumphantly, clapping her hands together. ‘Fair enough! Now, let’s get to work.’

While she rummaged through her bag, pulling out makeup brushes and curling irons like a magician revealing her tricks, I grabbed the dress and headed to the bathroom. The silky white fabric felt cool against my skin as I slipped it on, the fit just as perfect as I remembered. When I stepped out, Sam froze mid-motion, her mouth falling open in mock astonishment.

‘Y/n,’ she said, drawing out my name dramatically, ‘you look like you just stepped out of a movie. That dress was made for you.’

I rolled my eyes with a small smile but couldn’t deny the hint of confidence her words gave me. ‘Alright, what’s next?’

‘Sit down,’ she instructed, waving me toward the chair in front of the vanity. ‘Hair and makeup, obviously. You’re in good hands.’

As Sam worked, her chatter filled the room, light and easy. She styled my hair into soft waves, adding just enough volume to make it feel glamorous but not overdone. For makeup, she went for a natural glow with a touch of shimmer on my eyelids and a classic swipe of mascara.

‘You know,’ she said as she blended the final touch of blush, ‘tonight’s not about anyone else. It’s about you having a good time. So, don’t overthink it. Just enjoy yourself—you deserve it.’

I met her eyes in the mirror, her sincerity catching me off guard. ‘Thanks, Sam,’ I said quietly.

‘Anytime,’ she replied with a grin, stepping back to admire her work. ‘Now, look at you! Ready to turn heads.’

I stood up, glancing at my reflection. The confidence I’d been missing started to creep back as I smoothed the fabric of the dress. ‘Alright,’ I said, grabbing my clutch with a newfound determination. ‘Let’s do this.’

Sam beamed, linking her arm with mine. ‘That’s the spirit. Now, let’s show Barcelona what you’re made of.’

We stepped out the door together, and for the first time that night, I felt like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

Sitting by the bar, sipping on an espresso martini, I found myself engaged in polite small talk with a few familiar faces from the opposing team. The atmosphere was loud and lively, filled with the thumping bass of the music and the hum of conversations around us. Sam and I had been chatting casually, laughing at something ridiculous she’d said, when she suddenly announced, ‘I need to call Miguel.’

I raised a brow at her. ‘Right now?’

‘Yes, right now,’ she said, grinning and waving her phone. ‘It’s important.’

The music was far too loud for her to have any hope of hearing him, so we decided to step outside. The crisp night air hit me the second we walked out, the stark contrast to the heat of the club sending a shiver down my spine.

Sam wandered a little further down the alley, pressing her phone to her ear and trying to find a quieter spot. I stayed back, leaning against a random wall as I waited for her. That’s when I felt it—the cold. It wasn’t just chilly; it was sharp, the kind of wind that made you regret not bringing a jacket.

Rubbing my hands together in a futile attempt to keep warm, I realized how much the alcohol had gotten to me. The espresso martinis I’d been nursing all night suddenly made my head feel heavy, and my thoughts a little sluggish. Drunk and cold was not the ideal combination, and I couldn’t help but shiver as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm.

The street around me was quiet, apart from the muffled music spilling out from the club doors behind me. I glanced over at Sam, who was pacing slightly as she talked animatedly into her phone. It was strange being out here, away from the chaos inside, but a part of me welcomed the break, even if it came with the chill.

I sighed, rubbing my arms as the cold wind sliced through me, making me shiver uncontrollably. The night felt even colder now that the alcohol in my system was wearing off, leaving me feeling a little disoriented. A yawn escaped my lips as I glanced toward Sam, who was still pacing further down the alley, her phone pressed to her ear.

The sudden sound of the club door opening made me turn my head, and there he was. Kwon.

He stepped outside, letting the door swing shut behind him, his sharp eyes scanning the area before landing squarely on me. He was wearing a black jacket with a bold Cobra Kai logo stitched on the chest, the emblem catching the dim light. His presence was unmistakable, commanding as always, though his expression was hard to read—part surprise, part amusement.

‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked, his tone blunt as he walked closer, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

I straightened up instinctively, the cold biting at my skin even harder under his gaze. ‘Just waiting for Sam,’ I said, motioning toward her as casually as I could. ‘She’s making a call.’

Kwon stopped a few feet away from me, tilting his head slightly as he looked me up and down. ‘You look like you’re about to freeze to death,’ he said flatly, a hint of mockery in his voice.

I laughed nervously, rubbing my arms to try and warm up. ‘Yeah, it’s colder than I expected.’

‘Clearly,’ he said, arching a brow. ‘Did you even think about bringing a jacket, or are you just bad at planning ahead?’

I frowned, his tone making my stomach twist uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t think I’d be standing out here for so long,’ I muttered, looking away.

‘Right,’ he said with a smirk, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out toward me. ‘Here. Take it before you turn into an icicle.’

I hesitated, glancing between him and the jacket. ‘I’m fine. You don’t have to—’

‘Don’t make this more complicated than it is,’ he cut me off, his voice sharp. ‘Just take it. It’s not like I’m doing this for you—I just don’t want to hear about how someone froze to death outside the club.’

His words stung a little, but the cold won out. Reluctantly, I took the jacket, slipping it on. It was warm, the fabric carrying a faint scent of him—clean and woodsy, though I tried not to think about it too much.

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, though his tone didn’t carry much warmth. After a pause, he added, ‘Next time, maybe think ahead. You don’t seem like the type who handles cold well.’

I bit back a retort, pulling the jacket tighter around me. Kwon always had a way of getting under my skin, but at least now, I wasn’t shivering.

‘I’ll be leaving,’ Kwon announced, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night as he saw Sam making her way back toward us.

I glanced at him, still not entirely used to his bluntness, but before I could respond, he patted my shoulder arrogantly, the motion deliberate and a little too forceful. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, and I could feel the slight warmth of his hand through the fabric of his jacket.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and started heading back toward the club. He didn’t look back, his strides purposeful and confident, as if he hadn’t just done me a small favor moments ago.

I opened my mouth, about to thank him for the jacket, but the words died on my lips as he disappeared into the club without a second glance.

I stood there for a moment, the jacket still draped over my shoulders, feeling the cold night air around me once more. I wasn’t sure why his arrogance stung, but it did. Sam was just reaching my side as I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Sam raised an eyebrow as she approached me, noticing the slight shift in my mood. ‘What’s up? You look like you’ve been hit with a wave of confusion.’

I shook my head, trying to brush it off. ‘Nothing, just… Kwon being Kwon.’

Sam tilted her head, a smirk forming on her lips. ‘Oh? Kwon being Kwon? What does that even mean?’

I sighed, glancing down at the jacket draped over my shoulders. The familiar Cobra Kai logo on the sleeve caught her attention instantly, and her eyes widened in surprise.

‘Wait a second,’ she said, her voice rising with shock. ‘You’re wearing his jacket?’

I felt a flush creep up my neck, suddenly self-conscious. ‘Yeah, he gave it to me,’ I muttered, feeling oddly defensive. ‘I was freezing, and he—’

‘Gave you his jacket?’ Sam interrupted, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘Hmm, that’s… not something I would expect from him. What did he want from you?’

I blinked at her, momentarily thrown off by her question. ‘What do you mean, what did he want?’

She gave me a pointed look, clearly not buying my nonchalant tone. ‘Come on, Y/n. Kwon doesn’t just hand over his jacket for no reason. There has to be more to it than that.’

I hesitated, unsure how to explain it. He hadn’t really wanted anything, at least not directly. He had been his usual distant self, sarcastic and borderline mean, but there was something in the way he’d offered me his jacket that made me question his intentions. Maybe I was overthinking it.

‘I don’t know,’ I said slowly, feeling a bit uneasy. ‘He just noticed I was cold and… I guess he didn’t want me freezing out here.’

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ‘Really? That’s it?’

I sighed, crossing my arms and glancing back toward the club. ‘Yeah, I guess so. It’s not a big deal.’

Sam didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it go for now. She looked me over one more time, her eyes lingering on the jacket as if trying to piece together some unspoken motive. ‘Well, I’m not complaining. It’s a good look for you, anyway,’ she said with a wink, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. ‘Thanks, I guess.’

I could tell Sam wasn’t a big fan of Kwon, and I had a feeling her compliment about me looking good in his jacket wasn’t exactly genuine. She was just trying to distract me, to get my mind off Axel. It was clear in the way she’d casually brushed it off, as if the whole thing with Kwon was no big deal. But the truth was, it wasn’t that simple.

I tugged the jacket a little tighter around myself, feeling its warmth but also the odd weight of it, like it carried more meaning than just the fabric against my skin. The whole encounter with Kwon had been strange. There was something in the way he’d acted—his arrogance, his nonchalance—that made it feel less like a simple act of kindness and more like a gesture wrapped in layers of unspoken tension.

As we walked back toward the club, Sam chattered on about the night, about how great it was that I’d decided to come out and how much fun we were going to have. But I couldn’t focus on her words. My mind kept drifting back to Kwon’s indifferent attitude and the way he’d just left without a second thought, and then there was the nagging thought about Axel.

Axel.

The thought of seeing him again tomorrow had already been enough to set my nerves on edge, but now, with Kwon’s jacket wrapped around me, it felt like there was something pulling me in two different directions. I didn’t know what to make of any of it.

Sam nudged me playfully, clearly unaware of the storm brewing in my head. ‘Come on, don’t let that jackass mess with your vibe. We’re here to have fun, remember?’

I smiled faintly, trying to force myself back into the present, but the weight of the jacket, of Kwon’s words, and the unspoken tension between me and Axel stayed with me. It wasn’t that easy to forget.

We stepped back into the club, and the contrast hit me immediately—a hot, suffocating wave of air, thick with the mix of bodies, music, and lights. It was a sharp reminder of how loud and alive everything was in here compared to the quiet, chilly night outside.

Feeling the heat creep up on me, I slipped off Kwon’s jacket, draping it over my arm. The faint scent of it still lingered, grounding me in a way I didn’t fully understand. I opened Instagram on my phone, typing out a quick message to him: Hey, is there a chance we could meet later? I have your jacket. I hit send but noticed it stayed unread. Typical Kwon.

Before I could dwell on it too long, something else grabbed my attention. Sam was weaving her way back toward me through the crowd, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. In each hand, she held a shot glass, the liquid inside glinting under the strobe lights.

‘Look what I got!’ she said, her voice cutting through the music as she handed me one. ‘Cheers to us, Y/n!’

I hesitated, eyeing the glass suspiciously. I knew my limits, especially after everything I’d already had tonight. ‘I don’t know, Sam,’ I started, shaking my head. ‘I think I’ve had enough.’

But Sam, ever persistent, rolled her eyes before knocking back her own shot effortlessly. ‘Come on,’ she coaxed, her tone playful and teasing. ‘It doesn’t even taste like alcohol. I swear.’

She stuck her tongue out dramatically, proving her point, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little. She was clearly in her element, and her energy was infectious. Relenting, I finally raised the glass. ‘Fine. Just this one.’

‘That’s my girl!’ Sam cheered, pulling me into a quick side hug as I downed the shot. True to her word, it didn’t have the harsh kick I’d been expecting, just a subtle sweetness that lingered.

I smiled faintly, raising the now-empty glass in a half-hearted cheer. ‘To us, I guess.’

Sam clinked her empty glass against mine, her enthusiasm practically radiating off her. I, on the other hand, found my focus slipping as I clutched Kwon’s jacket in one hand and tried to lose myself in the moment. But my thoughts kept circling back to Axel.

What was he doing right now? Was he here somewhere in this chaotic crowd, or was he still out with Zara and the others? No matter how much I tried to shake it off, the thought of him loomed in the back of my mind, pulling me in a direction I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.

‘Soooo… another shot?’ Sam asked, her tone mischievous as she swayed a little, clearly enjoying herself.

I shrugged, feeling the buzz of the night taking over. ‘Sure!’ I replied, grinning and forgetting entirely that I was supposed to be keeping track of my limits.

Sam disappeared for a moment and came back with a different color this time—a vivid blue shot that glowed under the club lights. I took it in my hand, ready to drink, when Zara suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

She was as drunk as we were, her excitement bubbling over as she hugged me tightly. Her words were slurred, tumbling out in a chaotic, happy mess.

‘Whoa… re-repeat what you just said!’ I laughed, holding the shot in one hand as I tried to make sense of her rambling.

I was about to drink it when a firm hand stopped me. Turning, I saw Kwon standing there, his expression sharp and unamused.

‘I think you’ve had enough,’ he said curtly, snatching the shot glass from my hand before I could even protest. He placed it on a nearby table with a deliberate motion, clearly unwilling to argue.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam grabbing the abandoned drink without hesitation and knocking it back, oblivious to Kwon’s disapproval.

‘Oh! Kwon!’ I said, suddenly remembering the jacket. I grabbed it and shoved it into his hands with a bright smile. ‘Thank you for warming me up earlier.’

He looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and something unreadable, but I didn’t give him time to respond. Turning to Sam, I grabbed her wrist. ‘Sam, let’s go outside. I don’t feel well,’ I said, pressing a hand to my temple.

The club felt overwhelming—the heat, the pounding music, the blur of lights and voices. My head was spinning, and the sensation was too much.

I managed a weak smile at Zara and Kwon before guiding Sam toward the exit. Once outside, I collapsed against the same wall I had been leaning on earlier. The freezing night air hit my skin like a splash of cold water, helping to clear my mind, if only slightly.

I sat there, eyes closed, focusing on my breathing as Sam lingered nearby. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps, and when I looked up, Kwon and Tory were walking toward me. Kwon carried a bottle of water, his usual sharp demeanor still intact, while Tory’s expression was softer, filled with concern.

Tory knelt beside me, gently grabbing my hand as she offered the water. ‘Drink some water,’ she said firmly.

I barely registered the sound of more people spilling out of the club, their footsteps crunching against the pavement as they approached. My eyes stayed closed, my body too heavy, the cold air lulling me toward sleep against the wall. That is, until a familiar scent drifted past my pink-tinted nose—a warm, intoxicating mix of something unmistakably Axel.

My eyes snapped open, and there he was, kneeling beside me. His hand rested gently on my knee, its warmth cutting through the chill in the air. Axel’s expression was calm but serious, his gaze flicking to Tory as he murmured something about getting me, Sam, and Zara home safely.

Tory nodded, giving me one last reassuring smile as she rose to her feet. Kwon followed her without a word, his jacket slung over his shoulder, and they both disappeared back into the club.

I blinked sluggishly, trying to piece together what was happening, but before I could form a coherent thought, Axel scooped me up effortlessly. My head lolled against his shoulder as the steady rhythm of his footsteps replaced the chaotic noise of the night.

The crisp night air carried his scent, a mix of cologne and something inherently him. I found myself leaning into it, breathing it in as my eyelids fluttered. My thoughts grew hazy, and the world around me blurred into a comforting haze.

The next thing I knew, we were in the quiet sanctuary of my hotel room. Axel carefully laid me down on the bed, his movements gentle and precise, as if afraid I might shatter. The softness of the mattress beneath me felt like a cloud, pulling me further into the depths of sleep.

Zara appeared out of nowhere, rushing to my side and enveloping me in a drunken hug. Her voice was a jumble of words I couldn’t quite make out, but the warmth of her embrace was familiar and comforting.

Axel gently but firmly pulled her away, his touch protective yet restrained. As Zara stumbled back, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

I blinked up at him, catching the subtle shift in his eyes. They weren’t cold or indifferent like they usually were—they held something different, something warmer, something… admiring. He didn’t smile, but the look was enough to stir something in my chest.

I muttered something under my breath, barely audible even to myself. Maybe it was, ‘Sleep tight.’ Maybe it was nothing at all.

As I rolled over, hugging the small teddy bear I always kept on my bed, the faint sound of Axel’s footsteps retreating faded into the quiet of the room. My last thought before sleep took over completely was the lingering feel of his presence and the way his eyes had looked at me—like I wasn’t just another fleeting part of the night.

[rubyboobidoo]

not tryna make you jealous, but it looks so good on you | sofia gigante x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW, dom sofia (obvi), hair pulling, degradation+praise, spanking, thigh riding, just absolute FILTH 18+

A/N: this took me too long smh but i think it was worth it

it can’t be easy, running an entire empire that is. you know sofia appreciates you being her doting and understanding girlfriend, always by her side, always good for her. but lately, it’s been too much. all the late nights and days spent without so much as a kiss from her leave you worried and ever so desperate. it’s not like you’re asking for much, just a little bit of attention.

when you first noticed the revealing dress sofia had gifted you at the back of your closet, you knew exactly what to do. the plan was simple — wear it around the falcone residence until she finally noticed her mistake. you were confident it would get the reaction you wanted. until she saw you, her face twisted into a furious scowl. before you could react, she grabbed your arm and marched you straight into the nearest bedroom, the tension in the air palpable.

sofia struts to where you stand in the room, the haunting click of her heals on the floor following her. she circles around you, her hands skimming over the silk dress. it's funny how such a garment can cause such a fuss. "now, let's get one thing straight" she stops, hands lingering at your hips "all this" she purrs as her eyes scan your figure "is mine. understood?"

you decide to push her further, "i don't follow. all i'm doing is showing off what you bought me, baby." you sway, drawing attention to the fabric - or lack there of - on your body.

sofia's eyes narrow, her grip tightening on your hips as she yanks you close. "you think you’re being clever, hmm?" she hisses, her breath hot against your neck “playing games in front of my men?"

with one hand on your hip she raises the other to your head, grabbing a fist full of hair.

she watches with satisfaction as your eyes well with tears from the shock. "this dress, this body, this pretty little mouth of yours... all mine to do with as i please.”

one hand slides up your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest just below your collarbone. "this dress... should be a reminder of who you belong to." her other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat.

her grip in your hair tightens, just shy of painful. "over my lap. now." sofia releases you abruptly, stepping back to sit at the edge of her bed. "don't keep me waiting, sweetheart. i'm not a patient woman.” she taps her fingers impatiently against her thigh, staring through you as she restlessly awaits your response.

your chest tightens with fear of what she'll do next, but you don't move. instead, you stay still, pushing her further.

“god, must i do everything myself?" she snaps, rising from the bed. in one swift motion, she grabs your arm, yanking you toward her. you gasp falling into her lap forcing air out of your lungs and causing your dress to ride up.

the cool air leaves goosebumps over your thighs and sofia leaves little time for you to collect yourself before binging her hand down against your rear.

"count them out." she demands coldly. her hand comes down again as you wrangle a muffled 'one' from the back of your throat.

sofia continues her assault, filling the room with the echoed sound of skin on skin. you stop fighting the tears several slaps ago, letting them flow freely down your face as your flesh becomes increasingly red.

satisfied with her work, sofia pauses, her hand resting on your lower back. "good girl," she murmurs, her tone almost affectionate. you allow yourself to bask in the praise before uttering a small "thank you."

sofia shuffles back towards the headboard of the bed, smirking as she signals you to move with her. she watches in satisfaction as you crawl towards her, tapping her thigh with her slender finger as if to say “take a seat”.

you can feel her taking in the sight of you - the heat of her gaze on your skin. moving to straddle her leg, you realise how embarrassingly wet you had become.

sofia's lips curl into a hungry grin as she watches you crawl toward her. eyes raking over your figure, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, damp from tears.

“you wanted my attention and now you have it, princess.” she growls, her voice low and dangerous.

you know what she wants you to do - make a mess, give her a show. but your mind was too fuzzy and you just couldn’t seem to make your hips move. instead, you lean in for a kiss.

sofia allows it, letting your lips clashing against each other as you whine into the kiss.

you a pitiful whine as she breaks the kiss, your breath coming in harsh pants. she bring her gaze down to where your heat meets her tight-clad thigh. “need a hand?” she teased, cocking her head.

she watches you eagerly nod and with that, she takes ahold of your hips, digging her nails into your flesh through the thin silk.

there’s something so jarring about being so bare before your fully clothed girlfriend but it’s all worth it for the friction that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine.

at a steady pace she guides your hips up and down her thigh. her feeling is torturous, delicious but leaving so much more to be desired.

you bite your lip to stifle a moan, your embarrassment palpable. she loves you like this - eager, desperate for more.

she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers “poor baby,” her voice laced with sarcasm “so desperate for my attention yet too shy to make all those pretty little noises.”

"sofia," you moan, arching further into her thigh.

"ah ah," sofia tuts, slowing her movement completely. "i didn't say you could move, did i?"

she hooks a finger under the strap of your dress, tugging it down to expose more of your skin. "i love seeing you like this," she breathes, her lips trailing down your neck. "squirming and whimpering, all for me."

“only you.” you breathe, maybe if you appease her she’ll give you what you so desperately need.

“please, baby” you beg, hips bucking up in the desperate search for more traction “i need it.”

"since you asked so nicely," she growls pulling her lips from your skin.

sofia returns her hands to your hips, grinding you against her thigh with expert precision. the friction is incredible, building the tension coiling in your core.

she grips your hips tighter, her nails digging into your flesh as she grinds you harder against her thigh. sofia relishes the debauched sight of you - chest heaving from sporadic breaths, shaking legs tensing around her thigh, hazy eyes brimmed with tears of pleasure.

she quickens her pace as she notices you coming further undone. you can feel it building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter “come on, baby,” sofia urges, her voice low and encouraging. “let go, princess. give me what i want.”

her words in your ear are enough to send you tumbling over the edge. a wave of pleasure crashes over you as sofia draws out every last shudder and gasp.

she pulls back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “what an awful girlfriend i am, hmm?” she tenderly brushes a stray her from your forehead “letting my girl get all needy.”

you pout and joking nod in agreement “the worst.” you chuckle. with the little strength you have left, you shift your weight from her thigh.

“i don’t remember saying i was done with you, sweetheart.” sofia threatens. rather than protest, you steadily lower yourself between her legs, looking up at her through eager eyes.

“who said i was going anywhere?”

[redrose10]

oh pleaaaase i think this would hit!

Can you pretty please do-about the prompt game-

au!12 neighbors not really neighbors (like, funnily they meet ever single time at the same local 7eleven or supermarket idk, they live on the same block, trope 9, first 49 with 66 and then 28,15 last 33 (66 and all last three nsfw) with Nam or Jin whoever you like. Could you pls add reader is like short height? THANK YOUUUUU take care xx

I hope this is what you were looking for and you like it!

< The Cookie Jar >

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Neighbors, Stranger to Lovers

#49 “I need some assistance here.”

#66 “That’s illegal.”

#28 “We can’t do that here!”

#15 “Well fine just this once.”

#33 “Oh kitten…you’ve really never done this before?”

*******************************************************

“Eggs, flour, butter…eggs, flour, butter…eggs, flour, butter.”

You were repeating this to yourself over and over hoping that you wouldn’t forget anything. It was late and you were exhausted and just wanted to get home to have some dinner and relax, but you were required to be an adult first and get some groceries since it was your turn to bring cookies for your jobs weekly cookie jar. It was a dumb thing that management came up with to try and boost morale because that made more sense to them than just giving everyone a raise or some extra time off. Either way it was mandatory and not something you could get out of without ending up in a meeting with HR.

Normally you would just buy premade cookies but your boss informed you that it wasn’t fair to the others that actually took the time to make the cookies homemade so you had to stop.

You weren’t in any mood to play Betty Crocker so you were making a simple Snickerdoodle that only needed a few ingredients and you hoped you could just remember all of them before you walked out of the store.

Groaning when you saw the price of the butter you stared at your options hoping to find something on sale or with a coupon.

“This is a really good brand.”, a deep voice spoke slightly startling you. The man was pointing at a random box of butter.

“Is it?”, you chuckled, “I have to make cookies for work, but didn’t expect butter to cost me to promise my first born child.”

The man laughed, giving you the first glimpse of his beautiful smile with dimples included.

“Yeah I’m not much of a baker myself, but I’ve heard my mom complain quite a bit about how the prices are insane.”

“Glad I’m not the only one then.”, you laughed.

He reached down and grabbed one of the cartons of butter and handed it to you.”, She uses this one and I can confirm she makes the best cookies every time.”

You placed the carton in your cart., “I mean…I think you might be a little biased but I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckled and gave you a smile before walking away towards the registers. You spent the rest of the evening thinking about the handsome stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

“Stupid job, stupid cookies, stupid boss, stupid Hobi, stupid stupid stupid.”, you grumbled as you picked up a shopping basket. It was once again your turn to bring cookies for the dreaded cookie jar. Thanks to your coworker Hobi abruptly quitting it was also your turn a week sooner than you had planned. Luckily you had most of the ingredients from last time still sitting in your pantry. All you needed were chocolate chips and sugar.

After you grabbed your two items you decided to stop in the prepared foods section to get something for dinner to make it easier on yourself. You were so deep in thought trying to decide between the sesame noodles or the chicken teriyaki that you didn’t even notice someone standing next to you until they spoke, “Get the sesame noodles. The teriyaki tastes weird.”

You looked up to see the same guy from a few weeks ago walking past you, dimples once again on display. By the time your brain registered what happened and that you should go after him to finally get his name he was already walking out of the store. You grabbed the noodles and headed for the exit so you could finally go home to sulk while you baked some chocolate chip cookies.

You actually enjoyed baking when it was on your own terms and you didn’t have to hear the office go on and on about how amazing the cookies that Jin brought are, because his wife owns a bakery so OF COURSE they’re going to be amazing.

So when your best friend asked you make her favorite chocolate cake and come over with a tub of ice cream after her boyfriend dumped her, you didn’t even think twice.

The cake was sliding from side to side and the ice cream was already melting and you regretted grabbing those two bottles of wine because they were heavier than you thought so you were very glad that your friend lives just a three minute walk down the street from you.

You were trying to punch in the code to unlock the door when you heard a very familiar voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Looks like you’ve upgraded from cookies to cake huh?”

You were standing speechless staring at the beautiful man you somehow keep running into.

Just then your friend opened the door hearing the voices outside, “There you are! Oh hey Joonie! Hi Yoongs and Kook.”

It wasn’t until then did you realize there were two other guys standing off to the side and they were almost as handsome as “Joonie”. It made you question what they were putting in the water at this apartment complex.

“Joonie?”, you questioned with a brow raise.

He chuckled, “Yeah sorry about that. We’ve never been introduced. I’m Namjoon and those are my roommates Yoongi and Jungkook.”

You gave a small wave before turning your attention back to Namjoon so you could introduce yourself, “Y/N.”

Somehow or another you and your friend were invited over to Namjoon’s for pizza and drinks. It was all kind of a blur and you were too focused on finally getting to know the guy you’ve been crushing on for a while.

At some point the wine had become too much so you went to stand out on the balcony and get some fresh air. After a little while you started to sober up and feel much better. The door slid open and out came Namjoon. He smiled handing you a soft blanket and took a seat next to you. It seemed like he was sobering up at well.

“I’m sorry I never properly introduced myself. It was like my brain melted every time I saw you.”, he chuckled. “It’s okay. My brain didn’t seem to want to function either.”

A slight breeze moved through the air causing you to shiver. Namjoon moved a little closer wrapping his arm around you to help shield you from the wind.

You took the time to look him over but it was like he had the same idea as he was already staring at you and beginning to lean in which you reciprocated.

One kiss turned into two turned into soft moans and hands exploring each others body.

“Do you want to take this further?”, he asked pulling away.

You did. You figured you could make it to your place in less than five minutes or maybe even his room, but could hear a karaoke session going on inside so you knew everyone was still awake and would definitely know what was going on if you two walked back to his room. But it was something you were willing to deal with later.

“Yeah let’s do it.”, you nodded.

You squealed in surprise when he started unbuttoning your shirt. He struggled with the third button. “I need some assistance here.”, he laughed trying to hide his frustration.

“Namjoon, we can’t do that here!”, you exclaimed feeling your entire body flush at the thought.

He surprisingly pouted, “Why not?”

“Well for one thing, It’s illegal. We’re out in the open. People could see us.”

“It’s only illegal if we get caught and who’s gonna see? It’s like 2am. Everyone around here is already asleep or not even home.”

He had a point, but you were still unsure. The last thing you needed was a criminal charge on your record, but one look at his growing bulge had your mind going hazy with want.

“Look baby.”, he said in his deep raspy voice that wasn’t making it any easier for you to say no. He continued, “Y/N I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with so we can end it here or we can go as far as you’d like but if we go in there we’ll have to walk past all of them and they’ll definitely know what we’re doing. It’s up to you.”

You loved that he was so willing to do what made you comfortable. Most guys would’ve already up and left if you hadn’t agreed immediately so the fact that he was still there and talking you through it made you want to give into him even more.

“I just…I’ve never done anything like this before…out in the open like this.”, you added the last part quickly to make sure he knew you weren’t a virgin, you just weren’t normally into public sex.

“That’s okay. Like I said whatever you want.”, he whispered giving you a comforting smile.

You swallowed thickly before nodding, “Well fine, just this once. What’s the worst that could happen?”

His lips connected back to yours as he nodded, “I can deal with that.”

Feeling suddenly brave you climbed over taking a seat on his lap. You continued your movements by placing kisses beginning at his jaw and moving down to his neck and then chest.

He finished undoing the buttons of your shirt before helping you slide the material off. Your bra followed soon after. The cold air immediately causing your nipples to pebble and Namjoon wasted no time attaching his mouth to one. The sensation causing you to moan louder than you had intended. Your hand quickly covered your mouth as Namjoon smirked still sucking at your breast. You continued to move your hips using the friction to help provide some relief.

“Y/N.”, Namjoon groaned as you hit a particularly good spot. You thought you had heard a door open causing you to freeze worried that someone had heard the two of you.

“Oh kitten…you’ve really never done this before?”, he asked after noticing your skin turn reddish and your still unsure movements.

“No.”, you shook your head feeling a little embarrassed.

“That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Want me to walk you through it? Will that help ease your nerves?”

You nodded thankful that he was willing to take charge.

“Okay.”, he kissed you, “Get down on your knees in front of me.”

You did as he said. The balcony was small with not a lot of room to navigate but thanks to your shorter height you were able to snuggle in and fit in-front of him with ease. Your hands placed on his thighs as you waited for his next instructions.

“Now undo my belt…unzip my pants.”

You did as he said hoping he couldn’t see the very slight shake into your hands.

“That’s it baby girl. Now take my cock out… nice and slow.”

The sheer girth shocked you. He was hot and heavy in your hand. Your mouth began to drool, something no other man had ever made you do in this position.

“I know…I know. But you can handle it. Now go ahead and lick.”

You gave a few kitten licks to the tip making sure to lap up the beads of precum as they formed.

“Tha-That’s it baby. F-Fuck yeah. Go ahead and take it all in.”

He was already such a mess for you that it turned you on to a level you had never been. Your arousal was soaking through your panties to the point it was uncomfortable. You started to run your tongue from his base to tip before moving up again to suck him off like your life depended on it.

The sounds he was making increased your confidence and suddenly the prospect of getting caught didn’t seem so scary.

You focused your attention back to Namjoon giving his balls a light squeeze before swirling your tongue around his tip. You jumped a little when you felt his hand reach down and cradle one of your breast giving your nipple a light tug, “Mmmm Y/N. You’re doing so well kitten.” He leaned down and kissed your mouth savoring the taste of himself on your lips before he leaned back and you moved down to continue your bobbing up and down on his length.

Namjoon grabbed a hand full of your hair and pushed you down on his cock making you gag. His head rolled against the chair as he felt his tip hit the back of your throat.

“Is…is that okay?”, he asked through gasps. He pulled his hand away feeling guilty for not checking with your first. You didn’t want to stop so you took his hand and placed it at the back of your head giving him your silent approval to do it again. He gently, but firmly began to thrust into your mouth as you widened your jaw as much as you could allowing him to use you for his own pleasure, enjoying the way he nearly growled every time he got you to gag on him.

“I’m close Y/N. Fuck I’m close. Wh-where do you want it?”

“Tits…tits.”, you scrambled to say panting and drooling and barely able to form a coherent thought.

You moved your attention back to his length once again licking up and down before wrapping your mouth around him determined to bring him to his orgasm. He was close. You could feel his thighs tensing under your hands. A few beads of sweat were running down his forehead even though the weather was cool. His thrusts into your mouth became more and more erratic.

He said your name in a long drawn out moan before swiftly moving you off of him and rapidly jerking himself off with his right hand as his left hand came down to squeeze your breast.

“O-Okay. I’m coming.”, he gritted at his body began to shake.

You leaned closer squeezing your breasts together and watched as the the warm white liquid shot out before collecting in your cleavage.

Namjoon sat back trying to catch his breath before helping you up off of the ground.

“Y/N that was…wow that was unbelievable.”, he huffed using the blanket to help clean you up, “If you…uh if you want to lay down I’d be more than appy to return the favor.”

You smiled at the hint of shyness in his voice because where did the confident, in control man from a few minutes ago go.

“Actually…”, you shook your head, “If you want…my place is just a couple minute walk from here. We could head over there.” After that display you wanted him fully inside of you and you wanted to savor the moment and to take your time. You’re apartment was the best place for that.

His eyebrows lifted up in surprise before he laughed, “Well I wish I would have known that from the start. We could’ve just went there.” You both giggled at the realization before grabbing your things to walk over to your place completely forgetting that there were a group of people in the living room.

“Hey where are you guys going?”, your friends asked when they finally noticed the two of you heading to the door.

You panicked trying to come up with an excuse so that they wouldn’t know you two were going to have sex. Looking around the room your eyes caught sight of the half eaten cake on the counter.

“Cookies! Namjoon really wants to try some of my cookies so we’re gonna head over to my place so I can get some baked up.”

“That’s not fair. I want cookies too.”, Jungkook pouted as he waited for the next round of his game to load.

“They’re not making cookies you idiot. They’re going to have sex.”, Yoongi snorted not even looking up from his phone.

You could feel your body burn up and Namjoon didn’t seem to be fairing much better judging by his pink cheeks.

You said goodbye before quickly shuffling Namjoon out the door so they couldn’t ask any more questions.

“You know…cookies actually sound pretty good right now.”, he smiled as you were walking towards your apartment.

“Well luckily for you I have a cookie jar always stocked.”, you laughed opening your door.

He leaned down to capture you in a kiss and pushing you inside, “Is that so? Well then I’d definitely like to get a taste.”

“You’re welcome to my cookie jar any time.”

[ego13]

MESS ME UP – SHIN RYUJIN

track : chase atlantic - mess me up

SYNOPSIS : you and your friend decided to spend the evening in each other's company watching a movie, but something went wrong.

warnings : lesbian sex, fingering (r!recieving) cunnilingus (r! recieving), girls kissing, praise kink, slow sex, voyeurism.

pairing : ryujin x reader

you and ryujin have been friends since elementary school, despite the fact that they were complete opposites of each other. she always preferred noisy companies and parties, as long as you were that obedient the girl of her parents, who once again did not allow herself to be distracted from her studies, which was a frequent reason for jokes on the part of your friend.

despite her large group of friends, shin in most cases preferred you, you could talk on the phone for hours, look at the stars together, sit by the fire or just look at each other silently. she always picked you up from school, carefully throwing your briefcase over her shoulder, with the words, “princesses shouldn’t carry such weights," you always pushed her on the shoulder for such jokes, to which she only playfully ruffled your hair, to which she listened to an hour-long tirade about how long it took you to do your hair.

your parents simply adored her, often inviting her to family dinners and outings, which she only agreed to with pleasure, just to spend as much time as possible next to you. ryujin even herself stopped noticing the fact that her hand reached out to yours every time you were alone, and you just pretended not to notice it, silently allowing yourself to be taken by the hand, feeling her thumb stroke your palm, which made your heart beat faster every time.

another evening, and you, feeling insurmountable boredom, decided to dial the number of the older girl, without having time to say the offer to come, you at the same moment heard, “you don’t have to continue, I’ll be there soon, will take your favorite ice cream," you were about to answer something, but the call had already been dropped, so you sighed and got out of bed, wanting to quickly get yourself in order before she arrived.

you just came out of the bathroom when you immediately heard the delighted voices of your parents, who happily greeted ryujin, telling her how much they were glad to see her, but at the same moment the realization came into your head that you were completely unprepared to meet her, you looked into the mirror, realizing that you wouldn’t even have time to apply a light makeup, therefore, having resigned myself, I headed to my room, where Shin was already sitting on the bed, scrolling through her Instagram feed. hearing the door creak, she looked up at you, smiling brightly, "hey there, princess, is this all for me?"

you just looked away with displeasure, grabbing the first t-shirt and pants you came across from your closet, making ryujin look away with your gaze, hinting to shin that it would be nice to turn away, in response to which she just chuckled and turned away.

having changed clothes, you lay down next to her on the bed, picking up the remote control, flipping through the list of films for a long time, but none of them could catch your attention, seeing how you were suffering in trying to choose what to watch, her hand itself found its way to your waist, slightly lifting your t-shirt to touch the skin of your stomach with a cold palm.

you barely restrained yourself from letting out a quiet moan, you looked at her with a questioning look, to which she just put a finger to your mouth, hinting that you should stay quiet. her hand reached for the remote, turning up the volume, leaning down and running her nose along your collarbone, “you smell so good..." you closed your eyes, falling onto the pillow behind you, succumbing to ryujin’s hands, which were already playing with the hem of your pants. she looked into your needy eyes with a smile, whispering in your ear that she knows exactly what you need, with these words she pressed her lips to your neck, slowly untying the tie of your pants.

you sat up slightly, allowing her to take them off of you, tossing them to the side. her hands slid along your thighs, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin under her fingers, "mmm... you're such a gentle girl, I can touch you for hours and never get tired of it."

sliding her fingers into your underwear, shin saw how hard it was for you to remain quiet, so her free hand came to rest on top of your mouth, leaning down and placing a light kiss on your temple, "be a good girl for me, okay? I'll take care of you, I promise," her words made you relax at least a little, so you nodded obediently, and seeing your approving reaction, she slid down, trailing kisses lower and lower, her skillful fingers hooked your panties, removing them from you, lips falling to the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing you to breathe languidly, squeezing the blanket in your hands to the white knuckles.

finally her tongue touched you where you needed it most, gently touching your clit, playing with it with the the tip of her tongue. ryujin felt how hard it was for you to control yourself and felt how you instinctively try to bring your thighs together, which only made her squeeze them tighter in her hands, almost to the point of bruising. she slowly pushed her tongue inside while you bit your lips until they bled, trying to remain quiet, because the fact that your parents can hear you has not been canceled.

as your velvet walls began to clench around her tongue, ryujin could feel your body trembling as you got closer and closer to your end, your mouth opened in a silent scream when you finally reached your peak, tiredly raising your gaze to shin, who, without breaking her gaze with you, greedily licked her lips, enjoying the feeling of your taste on her lips.

still positioned between your legs, she pulled you into a slow and sensitive kiss, pushing her tongue into your mouth, and you, hesitant to fight her, allowed her to do so, moaning softly. her fingers found your thighs again, sliding between them, moving away from your lips, burying her nose in the crook of your neck, whispering in your ear about how good you are, "that's my good girl...", "you're having a good time, yeah?", "make me proud, princess."

you were ready to swear that you could cum just from these words until her fingers slid inside you, until she found your lips again, swallowing your moans, slowly but deeply thrusting into you, enjoying the way your fragile body responds to every thrust.

"you squeeze my fingers so beautifully, you want to cum, mm? come on be a good girl and do it for me," to the accompaniment of these words, you finally reached your second peak, arching your back to a crunch, while her arms held you in one position, hugging you tightly, intertwining her fingers in your silken hair, running the strands between her fingers as you breathed shakily, trying to regain your breath after waves of orgasm wash over you.

"rest, my girl, I'm here for you, always."

[jgraceslittleone]

Kinks I think Jason Grace would have

Warnings: includes controversial kinks (including DDLG 😱😱😱), but isn’t too hardcore imo. AFAB reader. Jason’s a sweetie like always. This includes a lot of hot takes. (Reminder: I write sub!reader only). MDNI.

Oh LORD do I have a lot to say

I’d say he’s kinky compared to vanilla people, but he’s vanilla compared to most other kinky people yk???

Like he has kinks, a couple of them taboo, but he’s a soft dom for the most part.

Everything he does is for your benefit. Even punishments. Your punishments are always very fair and he gives multiple warnings before resorting to punishing you.

Definitely into dd/lg chat (I’m biased but I really can’t help myself I’m sorry 😔)

He’s pretty strict but it’s all for your own good!

He has a strict bedtime and lots of different rules set with various consequences for breaking them repeatedly

But if you’re well behaved for the entire week, he gives you a reward!

Also into petplay 🤭

He thinks it’s so so so cute to see you dressed up in little puppy ears, with a tail plug in. He would probably bust on the spot if you let him get you a collar with a little tag on it saying something like “Jason’s puppy”

He’d leash you too but he’d still be so sweet about it. He’d walk you around the house, making you follow him wherever he goes

Controversial take

He gets jealous easily…

He loves leaving marks on your neck and telling you not to cover them, just so everyone will know you’re his !!

Going back to the puppy play thing from earlier, he loves to make you do a little twirl for him and show off how pretty you are whenever you put on your ears and tail.

Breeding kink ‼️ especially if you’re a virgin. Idk I just kinda feel like he’d have a thing for claiming you and “carrying on his legacy”. He also just generally wants to have kids

The first time you told him he could cum inside you, he went fucking feral. By the time he was done with you, you were shaking and crying from overstimulation.

He always tells you have much he loves you during sex, and how pretty you are, especially if you slip really deep into subspace. He has to make sure his little baby knows he loves them ❤️

[brunettemarionette]

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

↠ female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size.

a/n: pictures made by me, spoilers I guess if you haven't watched Deadpool? No warnings just fluff and dumbassery.

Some time after Deadpool & Wolverine, they get back together, and you're a total surprise for them despite the two wanting a baby before Vanessa died.

"So... are we having a Sonny or a Cher?"

Not being called either of those names and definitely not being called anything 'strippery'... or Wade Jr, Wada, Darth Wader and definitely not Todd, either.

No matter how much Wade worried about being like his dad, all that went out the window when you were actually born.

"I've only had a daughter for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself... come back to life fuck shit up and die again. Rinse and repeat."

Wade leaving you with Blind Al as a babysitter (sometimes she wouldn't even realize you're there).

"Wade, you can't just leave the baby with a blind person." *Surprise Pikachu Deadpool * "...ableist..."

I feel like Wade, at some point, either dropped you or you fell when you were a kid, but it's for the best since that's how he and Vanessa found out that you're a chip off the ole' block when you heal super fast.

Despite what Vanessa thought when they first agreed to make a baby, they did, in fact, make a 'super baby.'

Always following your 'Uncle' Logan around no matter how much he tries to get rid of you.

"'Babypool' go-... play or something, okay kid?"

Growing up surrounded by mutants means you never think you're different or a freak but instead becoming very protective of your mom. After a talk with your dad about your mom dying, you realize just how fragile people are.

Surprisingly, Wade makes a great girl dad. He does the tea party thing and, of his own accord, puts on the dress and clip earrings; he serves tea to the plush bears and scoffs when others mock him.

"Clearly, you people have no class."

As you got older, you started to look more like your mom, but no matter what situation you found yourself in, you could stop the snark, so much so that it earned you the nickname 'Mini mouth' – Wade was so proud.

Wade took you to the roof of the building to 'bond,' which Vanessa knew was him teaching you how to fight – something she was okay with until you both fell off the roof... more than once.

Them both knowing that despite wanting to give you a normal childhood and life you were going to be some kind or 'hero/antihero'. So they roll with the punches, and Wade makes sure you know exactly what you need to know about it.

"No, spermpool, red is my color. Just ask your mom when we-"

"Ew, Dad... and don't call me that."

On that note, investing in headphones was something you picked up the older you got, asking the store which ones cancel noise the best and then buying earbuds to go with them.

"Minipool, Girlpool, not-as-good-deadpool, Wishpool... ow... okay! We'll think of a better name for you!"

Despite you and your dad both being mercs who have been killed or hurt in every which way, your mom still rules the house. That's how you two find your katanas confiscated when you started playing 'Star Wars' during Thanksgiving.

Your dad makes a lot of Batman and Robin jokes when you're working together, only after he made a weird Batman and Catwoman joke until he realized why that was gross. So you became his Robin.

For someone so laid back about love and sex, Wade is very protective when it comes to you. Seeing the bad guys flirt with you, his deadpan snark reaches a few levels higher than his norm – it doesn't help when your mom hypes up your catsuit.

"I told you we should have gotten her a costume like what the lady three floors down wears."

“Red, that's a Muumuu.”

Being impulsive is like an inherited trait from both of them, which just makes up a chaotic household, and yet you all love every minute of it.

"One of the best things my dad ever gave me, not by choice, are these two gold-plated 50 caliber desert eagle pistoleros...."

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀

The Nights by Avicii

GDFR by Flo Rida

X gon' give it to ya by DMX

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Chaotic parents x Inherited Chaos (you)

Matching Family Energy

Dumbasses (wade, you) x Oh, those are my dumbasses (vanessa)

[fenharel-is-so-swell]

While I’m on my ✨Race in Thedas✨ rant let me just explain why the blending of Dalish and City Elves bothers me personally.

As I said previously, I’m mixed. I’m specifically black in the ‘descendants of enslaved people’ way. I grew up in a predominantly white area but finished out highschool in a diverse school with a high number of first gen African immigrants.

(I promise this is pertinent) My relationship with race has always been complex. I benefit from a proximity to whiteness due to being mixed, but I of course still experienced rampant racism and an identity crisis.

In elementary school we had to do a yearly genealogy project. In some ways, mine was easier than the few other black kids in my class. While their families were nearly untraceable past 2-3 generations, I could just focus my effort on my mother’s side. Though, I faced ridicule because OBVIOUSLY I wasn’t white, so obviously I couldn’t be German. While I may have shared DNA, I felt much less experientially connected to the ‘family tree’ I did my reports on because their lives could look nothing like mine. They walked through world without the color of their skin first. So, of course the next year when a culture week came up and we were encouraged to wear clothing representative of our heritage I went the other way—I asked my dad to buy me a dashiki. I still I faced ridicule and still it felt foreign. I had no cultural ties to the patterns, my family never wore them, I’d never heard of the foods we looked up that were mainstays on the Ivory Coast. I may have shared DNA, I may have shared racial trauma, but my culture was different. I was black I wasn’t African.

Playing dragon age origins as a City elf I saw myself for the first time. I saw a woman divorced from her original culture, ripped from her roots by an imperial force but still incredibly steeped in a rich world created by survival and painstaking effort to hold onto oral tradition and what blended history the alienages could. I saw my grandmother singing gospel on the weekends, the church ladies in their outfits, the greens, the pecan pie, the stories of struggle the community shared, the village it took to raise all my cousins and get our older family and friends through chemo and childloss and hard financial times. In hearing about different alienages I saw the distinct cultural differences between Harlem, Oakland, Birmingham, Houston, Atlanta.

Playing as a Dalish elf I saw a facet of the African-Immigrant experience I came to know in high school from my friends who immigrated. I saw the culture more closely connected to the various countries they came from, but still scared by the vestiges of imperialism and colonialism. They were all unique, just as Dalish clans are. My Nigerian friends ate different food, had different rules, wore different clothes, had different cultural practices than my Kenyan or Nigerian friends. I had a couple of North African friends from Morrocco and Egypt that still felt grounded in the history of Africa but were so different. I saw the physical differences in them like I saw them in further DA entires in the Dalish from Antiva or elves from Tevinter.

(And better yet to see this dichotomy in culture I didn’t have to face more trauma porn on black bodies)

As I continued digging into elven cultures in southern Thedas I saw even more complexities of the diaspora that matched my experience. They way both city and Dalish elves looked down upon each other one for ‘assimilation’ and being ‘weak’. The other for holding on to ‘strange’ cultural practices and being ‘primitive’.

Growing up at a crossroads of many racial and cultural experiences I relished in the nuance, the way both cultures were painted as a people just trying to survive and hold onto themselves. A people distinct and resilient, a people not too unlike from each other and while aloof still marginally less wary in solidarity. They were both full of individuals that interacted so vibrantly with the world and life they lived in.

Flattening that in Veilguard initially devastated me, then enraged me. That’s not just poor writing, that’s borderline racist. It indicates that the differences don’t matter, the pain, the struggle, the culture, the history none of it matters because ‘an elf is just an elf’ at the end of the day. And that’s fucking gross.