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cherienymphe · 16 hours ago

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Teenage Dirtbag XVI

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, semi public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

“Am I a joke to you? Huh?”

Despite how unserious Rafe’s words were, his attitude and tone were anything but. The past few months had been…okay—as okay as they could be considering the circumstances, you supposed—and while the look on Rafe’s face was far from unfamiliar, it was also a look you hadn’t seen in a while. Most notably the night of his birthday.

The memory of his hand around your throat was fresh, his voice in your ear as he threatened to kill you if you ever tried to leave him again. The violent memory immediately had you on edge, and you absentmindedly touched your neck, worriedly eyeing Rafe just as he strode over to you.

“You think I didn’t see that bullshit at The Wreck?”

His hand was digging into your arm, and you flinched at the painful grip, eyeing him in a mixture of confusion and fear. Rafe’s blue eyes were cold as he stared you down, a sneer on his lips as he leaned in.

“All it takes is a smile and you’re batting those lashes-.”

“...what are you talking about?” you finally spoke, noticing too late that you were knee deep in another fight without even realizing it.

“I’m talking about JJ, that’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” Rafr spat at you, fingers pressing into your skin even harder.

It took you too long to realize just who he was talking about, and when you did, your lips parted in disbelief. You thought to yourself that Rafe couldn’t be serious, there was just no way, but as you looked between his eyes, you slowly—and fearfully—realized that he was indeed very serious.

The food that you'd brought back from The Wreck was sitting on the counter, and you recalled the blond teenager who’d given it to you with a friendly smile, and you recalled that you’d smiled back. Not only was it just the polite thing to do, but it was second nature to you—harmless. Yet, here Rafe was treating it like the highest form of infidelity there was.

“Rafe…be serious.”

You were so in disbelief that you didn’t quite register the danger of the words you were whispering. You were that much in shock—that thrown—that Rafe was starting something over something as simple and harmless as a smile to the guy behind the counter. Your response only made him angrier, and you swore you felt your bones straining under his hold.

“Do I seem anything but serious, right now?”

You couldn’t hold in your pained gasp as your knees buckled, your free hand reaching up to try and make him let go.

“Do you even consider me and my feelings when you pull this shit? Huh?”

His nose brushed against your cheek as you fought to stand, pulling at his hand with tears in your eyes.

“If it’s not you ‘falling’ into Topper’s lap then it’s you trying to break up with me—and on my birthday, no less! Now you just expect me to stand by and watch you make googly eyes at any guy who looks your way? You be serious,” he bit out, shoving you so hard that your back hit the nearest wall.

Your arm was throbbing, now, the blood rushing back to where Rafe’s hand had just been. Your heart was going crazy in your chest, and when you looked up, you did so just in time to see the expensive vase coming your way. The scream that escaped your lips hurt your throat, and you slid to the floor just as the sound of breaking glass reached your ears. The shards went everywhere, and you briefly noted the faint sting on your feet.

You felt paralyzed as you looked up at Rafe.

“Is this…is this another attempt to leave me? Hmm?” he wondered, fingers grazing his chest as he frowned at you. “You think if you piss me off enough, I’ll just wash my hands of you? Is that it?”

You couldn’t stop shaking, and your voice caught in your throat, your brain unable to comprehend how you wound up in this position. Your silence seemed to only make him angrier, and when he took a step towards you, you were finally able to spring to your feet, completely unsure of what he was about to do next.

“Huh? Is that what you’re trying to pull?”

You frantically shook your head.

“N-no. Rafe, no, I don’t-”

“No?” he asked, almost incredulously.

A bitter chuckle left his lips, and Rafe shook his head, blowing out a breath as he kept his eyes on you.

“You sure could’ve fooled me.”

You looked around, chest heaving as you ran different scenarios over in your mind. You went back and forth between trying to talk him down and just making a run for it. The last time Rafe had been this angry, he’d almost choked you to death while verbally promising to do just that if you ever drove him to it. Your perusal did not go unnoticed, and Rafe was suddenly moving closer.

“Wh-where do you think you’re going?” he mockingly asked, holding your gaze, now. “You think we’re done?”

“Rafe…” you pleaded, holding your hands out.

“You think I’m done with you? You think-.”

Rafe cut himself off, reaching for you and cursing when you slipped from his grasp. His hand caught onto your shirt, twisting it, and you stumbled back when he yanked you closer. His other hand circled around your throat, and anything that you were going to say or do was immediately cut short by the feel of metal against your lips.

The scream that caught in your throat was accompanied by the feel of tears kissing your eyes, and your hands immediately wrapped around your boyfriend’s wrist. Rafe’s own eyes were glazed as he stared at you, and a sob bubbled within your chest.

“This is the only way you’re ever going to leave me. Do you understand?”

You were barely listening to a word he said, tears spilling over as you stumbled back with every step he took. The gun had been an 18th birthday gift from Ward, something you’d seen once or twice since you and Rafe started dating. You hadn’t ever given it much thought. After all, you were in North Carolina, and it was the kind of place where kids learned to shoot from the age of twelve.

You hadn’t thought about it when he’d slapped you and not even when he’d threatened your life. Yet here you were…faced with the real possibility that Rafe would use it to kill you. Your tears wouldn’t stop flowing, and your gaze was terrified and pleading. You didn’t even think you were pleading to Rafe—you were just pleading for something. A knock at the door, a car in the yard, the ring of his phone. You were pleading for anything to happen to stop this because in this moment…you weren’t so sure that Rafe would stop on his own.

The blond tilted his head at you, the light glinting off of his blue gaze.

“Hmm?”

You gave a shaky nod, your nails digging into his wrist, and Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time. His hand was on the gun and your hand was on him and neither one of you were moving. The moment he finally pulled his hand back, you were shoving your hand against his face. Your sudden fight took him by surprise, and you didn’t spare him another glance as you bolted for the stairs.

You flinched when your name echoed off of the walls, Rafe’s footsteps in time with yours. Your tearful gaze made it hard to see, and your shoulder knocked into the corner of the wall as you stumbled straight towards the bathroom. Rafe’s voice was loud and angry as he yelled for you, and you didn’t hesitate to slam the bathroom door shut behind you, locking it just moments before Rafe’s hand met the knob.

Your uneven breathing was all you could hear as you fumbled around in your pocket for your phone, and your lashes fluttered from the feel of the door hitting your back from every kick Rafe dealt to it. You felt so disconnected from yourself as you dialed 911, the severity of Rafe’s actions fully washing over you. You couldn’t stop crying as a voice greeted you from the other line, mentally telling yourself that you couldn’t do this anymore.

You had to get out.

You had to.

You couldn’t live like this, you wouldn’t survive it, and as terrifying as it would be to tell the world just who Rafe Cameron really was, the thought of enduring this forever was even scarier.

“What’ya thinking about?”

Rafe’s lips brushed against your temple as he whispered the question, and you only shook your head before turning to look up at him with a small smile.

“Nothing…”

Topper and Kelce were playing poker in the living room, Rafe long abandoning the game to snuggle beside you instead. Today was a good day, but then again, the past few weeks had been full of good days. The disastrous night that was Midsummers was weeks ago, and the morning after—when you’d been applying makeup to your discolored cheek—you had the realization that even if some small part of you had hope that you could get out of this relationship one day, you needed to survive to actually see that happen.

Sneaking around with JJ had brought just as much harm as it did good.

Sure, you were seeing someone who actually cared about you and who didn’t absolutely terrify you. You were reminded of what it was like to be touched by someone without flinching, but on the flip side…you were reminded of what it was like to be touched by someone without flinching.

Your relationship with JJ—if you could even call it that—also served to put into perspective just how bad things had become with Rafe. There was a time when you’d gotten so used to the abuse, so accustomed to the way he talked to you and held you and treated you. The constant reminder of how much better things could be made you act out in ways that you hadn’t in a long time.

Your behavior as of late had given Rafe the perfect excuse to show you just how awful he could really be.

Things were good when you were good, and being good entailed acting as the perfect girlfriend that Rafe wanted. Smiling when he looked at you, standing beside him and looking pretty when he was with his friends, placating him no matter how much in the wrong he was, and eagerly opening your legs for him whenever he wanted. After all, deep down, that’s what it was really about.

Rafe just wanted someone to always be in his corner and to be ever loyal to him.

It didn’t matter that he had to force it.

All Rafe wanted was for someone to kiss him on the cheek at the end of the day and choose him. You would find it sad if said behavior wasn’t actively ruining your life. Playing such a role had long driven you into depression, but it wasn’t so bad, now when you had something else to look forward to. As much as it pained you, you slipped back into that role of the agreeable and enabling girlfriend, content with the temporary relief from it that JJ brought to you.

“You’re always thinking about something,” Rafe murmured, a humorous lilt in his voice that didn’t fool you.

You knew that if Rafe could wish for anything, it would be to see inside of your head. The fact that he could control every aspect of your life except your thoughts was something that bothered him greatly. That was one thing he’d never have access to, and it absolutely ate him up inside.

He was right though.

As you looked at him, you were reminded of his face staring back at you from inside of that cop car. It seemed like so long ago—a lifetime—but nothing had hardly changed. You’d been so sure that day that things would be different. You’d been so scared, so tired, so…defeated. You remembered how determined you were to put a stop to this and start moving on from Rafe Cameron once and for all…but then Ward had gotten into your head and scared you even more with the reality of what would happen.

You wondered if Rafe thought about that day too, if he thought about how if it weren’t for Ward, then things would be very different right now. Rafe had a lot to thank Ward for, you supposed, but you didn’t say any of that. You didn’t dare.

“Just thinking that I’m going to miss you,” you quietly told him.

Ward was going away for the weekend to deal with some business, and Rafe was going with him. The trips had become more frequent over the past year, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before Rafe was fully brought into the family business…and once that was done, it wouldn’t be long before Rafe decided it was time to tie you to him forever. Rafe wanted to have it all, you’d always known that, and once his place by Ward was official, he would start checking things off the list one by one.

Rafe hummed at your response, reaching up and gently taking your chin between his fingers.

“You have been so good lately,” he murmured, leaning in. “I think you really will miss me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you kissed him back, closing your eyes and eagerly moving your mouth against his like you used to before JJ. While it was still second nature to you, you had never had to give it so much thought before. Behaving like Rafe’s dream girl was just something you did, something ingrained in you, but lately you had to remind yourself that you wanted things to be easy—smooth sailing.

It didn’t hurt to remember that Rafe noticed the way JJ acted about you these days. Rafe thinking that JJ harbored a crush on you was one thing, but if he even suspected the opposite then you were as good as dead. He thought it was funny, something to laugh about—the thought of JJ Maybank thinking he had a chance with his girlfriend—but the thought that you might be soft on the other blond wasn’t as amusing.

You recalled the way he looked at you as he threatened you that night, driving it into your head that he didn’t want you ever defending ‘that Pogue’ again. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were just trying to be nice and mature, he didn’t want to hear it. You hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes, and it was then that you told yourself you needed to get it together.

JJ Maynank was messing with your head, rubbing off on you, and sometimes that was good, but there were also times where it wasn’t. He was so headstrong, so impulsive, and while you liked that about him, he was always going to be on the receiving end of Rafe’s wrath if he kept it up, and that was what you told him later that night after Rafe had dropped you off at home with a gentle kiss.

The younger blond huffed, and you watched him run his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” he reluctantly agreed. “I just don’t think you understand how angry he makes me. Downright murderous if we’re being honest.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, hating when JJ talked like that, but you knew that it was all talk. Rafe was home and packing to leave with his father in the morning, and JJ was sitting on the edge of your bed, reaching for you and pulling you closer by your waist. Moments like this made the farce with Rafe worth it, and you placed your hand on the other man’s shoulders.

“You’re used to this, used to him,” he sadly pointed out, gaze soft as he looked up at you. “I’m not, and I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Your shoulders sagged at that, silently agreeing with him. It did seem a little unfair to expect JJ to fall in line so quickly with something that had taken you years to perfect. The two of you had only been seeing each other for some months.

“You’re right…but do you get how it makes me feel to see him just tear into you because you can’t keep your mouth shut?”

JJ’s lips quirked up at that, and you lightly hit his shoulder.

“It’s not funny,” you told him, letting out a light chuckle anyway. “Unlike you, I’m good at this. He’ll never suspect me, but he has no problem with punching you in the face for just looking at me too long, and I know how much you love fighting Rafe, but it gives me a mini heart attack every time.”

The blond didn’t respond right away at that, and he eventually sighed before leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. When he tilted his head back, he looked up at you from beneath his lashes.

“For the sake of your heart…I’ll be better. I promise.”

The tension in your body eased a bit, but it didn't last long as you watched JJ push the end of your shirt up your torso.

“Now enough about Rafe,” he whispered into your skin. “I have you all to myself this weekend.”

You shuddered at the feel of JJ’s tongue against your stomach, and his fingers wasted no time in searching for the waist of your skirt.

With your parents just down the hall, you were hyper aware of every noise you made under JJ’s careful ministrations. Lying underneath him felt more like a real relationship than any moment you’d ever had with Rafe. JJ was gentle with every touch he gave to you, and you couldn’t stop your stomach from flipping every time he let himself lose control, frantically shaking your head whenever he asked if he was hurting you.

It was a good kind of hurt.

That was something you thought you’d never say. The blond was careful in leaving you blemish free for obvious reasons, but on the off chance that you woke up with a slight bruise or a mark on your chest, it didn’t feel like it did when you looked at Rafe’s marks in the mirror. You’d stare at them with the strangest desire for more, wanting JJ to keep marking you.

One of his hands massaged your breast while the other was being stroked by his tongue, shaky moans escaping your lips in your dark room. You’d grown addicted to the way his cock stretched you out, eagerly opening your legs for him every time he crawled between them. Sex with JJ was fun and good, and it never not ended with you begging him to come inside of you.

You absentmindedly talked with Sarah while you waited for your food. She was telling you about some trip they planned on going with the Twinkie, but you had to be honest with yourself in admitting that you were hardly listening. JJ and Pope were on the other side of the restaurant, and the blond kept catching your eye no matter how much you tried to pretend like you couldn’t feel the heat of his gaze.

It was only a few hours ago that he’d been climbing out of your bedroom with promises to see you tonight. Heat settled in the pit of your stomach at the memory of his fingers on you and in you, and you reminded yourself to savor this because Rafe would be returning in 24 hours and who knew how long it would be before you saw JJ again in the manner you preferred.

“...and believe it or not, JJ is claiming he can’t make it that weekend. What could he possibly have to do,” Sarah scoffed, and you finally looked at her again.

You suspected why in your head, but naturally you kept it to yourself.

“Hey, do you wanna come over tonight? With Rafe gone with our dad, I can actually invite my friends over without apologizing on behalf of him every thirty minutes.”

Her proposal came the same time Kiara brought your food out, and you struggled to turn her down.

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” you sadly told her, hating the way her face fell. “I have some things to take care of at my house.”

The blonde eyed you, and you took your food with a smile thrown Kie’s way.

“Is that for real? Or is this about Rafe? I swear this time it’ll just be us girls, and they miss hanging out with you. Right?”

She looked to the brunette behind the counter, and when you glanced at her too, Kie was sending you a small smile.

“Yeah, you should come.”

Her tone and gaze was welcome enough, but there was something about the way Kie looked at you that felt off. You sighed, hating to turn them down.

“I really have something to do,” you assured them. “I have no doubt that Rafe will be going out of town with Ward again, so next time. I promise.”

You gave Sarah a hug, squeezing her extra tight as an apology, and you waved Kie goodbye. You left without another glance at JJ no matter how much you wanted to, and you were almost to your car when you heard your name being called. The sound of Kie’s voice was surprising, but you turned to face her nonetheless.

Like inside, you couldn't place the expression on her face.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Her tone was light, and nothing on her face contradicted that, but something about her question sparked worry in you. You blinked, a bit thrown—because what could Kiara possibly want to talk to you about—but you gave her a nod.

“Yeah, sure,” you said with a shrug.

She almost looked like she hadn’t expected you to say yes, and you understood it. You guys weren’t exactly close. Friendly, but not quite friends. You watched her tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear, lips parting as she seemed to be struggling with how to start.

“I…don’t even know if I should be doing this,” she breathed, and at that, you frowned.

She swiped her tongue between her lips.

“...but JJ is my best friend and…”

At that, your heart sank, doubly unsure and worried for what she was about to say. Kie swallowed, gaze soft as her eyes met yours.

“I don’t know what exactly is going on between you two…” you felt your blood run cold. “...and I don’t know exactly how long it’s been going on…but it’s not fair to him.”

At first, you thought the him in question was Rafe, but the longer you stared at each other, understanding filled you. Your chest felt tight as you looked away, softly exhaling.

“Look, there’s no need to freak out because I’m 100% positive I’m the only one who knows,” she assured you. “...and that’s only because I’m the only one JJ talks to about you.”

You knew that. She’d told you at Midsummers, after all.

“I see the look in his eyes when he talks about you,” she whispered. “I hear what he sounds like when he talks about you—I see the way he looks at you, and it’s only because of that that I see the way you look at him.”

You finally met her gaze again.

“...but you’re never going to leave Rafe.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut…because they were true. Truer than she even knew.

“...and JJ’s so…” her words trailed off with a light scoff. “You took him by surprise. You’re sweet and polite and the complete opposite of Rafe, and I know what he’s thinking.”

Kie shrugged.

“...because I’ve thought it myself. JJ would be so much better for you. He’d be really good for you…but you’re never going to leave him. Are you?” she asked after some time.

When you blinked, you were surprised to feel a few tears skip down your cheeks, and you avoided her gaze.

“Kie it’s…it’s complicated,” you finally choked out, wrapping your arm around yourself.

“I don’t doubt that,” she laughed. “Trust, I believe that a relationship with Rafe Cameron is every bit as complicated as you say it is, but that doesn’t make this any more fair for JJ.”

An uncharacteristic stab of anger tore through you, and you stared her down, jaw clenching.

“Why aren’t you having this conversation with JJ? Why me?”

She looked at you like it was supposed to be obvious, a frown between her brows.

“...because he’s never going to leave you.”

You sharply inhaled at that.

“Despite how unfair this is to him and despite the fact that he’s forever going to be some dirty little secret and despite the fact that Rafe would probably run him down if he found out, JJ’s not leaving you. We both know that,” she sadly told you.

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and you struggled to swallow. Everything that Kie was saying was right…and you absolutely hated it. Sneaking around with JJ was fun and dreaming of a future with him was fun, but realistically? The small sliver of hope that you had about getting out of this relationship with Rafe was dwindling by the minute. Suppose you did get out unscathed…it wouldn’t remain that way.

The moment you even thought of stepping out with JJ would be the end of both you and him, and it suddenly hit you that you couldn’t even fathom making JJ go through that. The only way you’d ever be truly free of Rafe was if he were behind bars, and with daddy’s money, the only chance of that happening was if he ever killed someone.

…and that someone was likely to be you.

“Look, I’m not saying all of this to be a bitch, and you probably think I am a bitch, right now, but I like you, Y/N. I really do, and I like you for JJ…but this isn’t fair to him, and you know it.”

You turned away from her with a heaving chest, and more tears spilled over just as a familiar voice reached you both. JJ said something to her that you didn’t catch, too busy staring off into the distance as the gravity of her words hit you. When JJ called your name, you didn’t answer.

You only noticed that Kie was making her way back inside when he forced you to look at him. With one look at your face, his entire expression dropped.

“Hey,” JJ softly said to you. “What’s wrong? Is it Rafe?”

You could only shake your head.

When he reached for your face, you backed away from him, your back grazing your car. Your eyes kept roaming around, your throat and chest feeling so tight. When JJ reached for the keys in your hand, you tightened your hold.

“Let me drive you back home. I’m coming over anyway-.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you mumbled.

There was a brief pause.

“You can’t drive like this-.”

“No, I don’t think…I don’t think you should come over,” you forced out.

It was some time before you looked at JJ again, and when you did, he was only staring at you with a frown. His lips opened and closed, seemingly struggling to put his thoughts into words before his face went blank altogether. He stared at you for a few seconds before his gaze found The Wreck and back. When he spoke again, his voice was hard, tone icy.

“What did Kie say to you?”

You shook your head, silently crying.

“Nothing that wasn’t true.”

JJ grabbed your arms, and you pushed him away.

“Y/N-.”

“I have to go,” you choked out, hurrying to the driver’s side with JJ on your heels.

You ignored him every time he said your name, and when you slid into your car, he prevented you from closing the door.

“I’m going to call you. Alright? I know Kie probably said some things to you that you think you need to take seriously, but she doesn’t know the whole story, you have to remember that,” he firmly told you, his hand on your cheek.

JJ made you look at him, his thumb brushing over your lip.

“She doesn’t know the truth, she doesn’t understand. Do not listen to her. Okay…?”

JJ was pleading with you, his gaze crazed and desperate, and despite the nod you gave him, you knew in your heart that you already were.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #dark!rafe cameron #obx imagine #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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im-so-normal-iswear · 3 days ago

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Ahem can I request what shadow would do with his s/o when they have nightmares?

A/n: I've actually only had a nightmare once, and I don't really consider what I had one, so idk how well this is written

Shadow x s/o with nightmare

You wake up with a jolt, your heart pounding against your ribs. you shook ad you heaved in and out heavily. The room is dark, but you can make out Shadow’s silhouette, sitting in his usual spot by the window. He’s always up late, either lost in thought or silently keeping watch. His eyes flick to you almost immediately, keen as ever to notice the change in your breathing.

"You’re awake," he states, his voice low and quiet, more an observation than a question. He’s by your side in moments, moving with the same silent precision you’ve grown used to. The mattress dips slightly under his weight as he sits beside you, his hand hesitating before settling gently on your shoulder.

"You had another one, didn’t you?" Shadow asks, softer this time. His voice, though stern, had a touch of concern in it.

You nod, unable to find your voice yet. The nightmare still fresh in your mind as you tried to regulate your breaths. Shadow notices. Of course he notices. He’s always observant when it comes to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his hand shifting to rest against your back, a small gesture of comfort that feels grounding.

You shake your head. "I... I don’t know. I don’t think it’ll help."

Shadow’s eyes narrow slightly, not out of irritation but in thought. He knows nightmares well, too well. He knows the weight they leave, how they linger like a shadow you can’t shake. Still, he doesn’t push you. That’s one thing you appreciate about him, he respects your boundaries, even if he’s tempted to press further for your own sake.

"All right," he says after a moment, standing abruptly, grabbing a blanket. "Come on."

You blink, startled. "What?"

"You’re not going back to sleep like this," he says matter-of-factly. "We’re going outside."

"Outside? Shadow, it’s the middle of the night!"

"Fresh air helps clear your head," he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Trust me."

You sigh but find yourself sliding out of bed anyway. there was no poing in arguing, and frankly you were too tired to anyways.

Shadow leads you out to the quiet woods near your home, the two of you walking in comfortable silence. The cold night air nipped at your skin, but Shadow draped the blabket he took over your shoulders keeps you warm. He walks just ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure you’re keeping up. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting silvery patches on the ground, and you find yourself focusing on the sound of his footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

After a while, Shadow stops at a clearing. He gestures for you to sit, spreading the blanket out on the grass. "Here," he says, sitting beside you. He tilts his head back to look at the sky. "Look."

You follow his gaze. The stars are brilliant tonight, scattered across the inky sky like shards of a diamond. For a moment, you forget entirely about the nightmare as you gaze up at the night sky.

"Better?" Shadow asks, his voice quieter now.

You nod. "Yeah. Thanks."

He doesn’t say anything, but the slight upward twitch of his mouth tells you enough. Shadow leans back on his hands, his usual stoicism softening in the starlight. "You’re stronger than you think," he murmurs after a while. "Whatever it is you’re afraid of... it will not overtake you. Not while I’m here."

The two of you sit there in comfortavle silence for a moment.

Eventually, he nudges your shoulder gently. "You should try to sleep. I’ll keep watch."

You hesitate, but the exhaustion tugs at you. Lying down on the blanket, you close your eyes, taking in the nights hidden sounds. Cricket chirping, the leaves of the trees around you gently clashing against each other and shadiws steady breathing next to you. It was all almost harmonious.

As sleep starts to claim you, the last thing you hear is his voice, low and steady "I’ve got you. Nothing will hurt you while I’m here."

#fanfic #shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #s/o with nightmare #sonic the hedgehog x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 day ago

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YOU DIDNT TELL ME YOU HAD OTHER GEORGE FICS I FEEL LIKE I WAS BAITED INTO GETTING INTO ANOTHER WEASLEY FOR NO REASON (I say as if I needed to be baited 🙄🤪)

An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it.

OH! LOVELY not you making me want to rewatch the films (I won't I'm not a fan of reconsumption idk idk idk)

He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

Willy Wonka aahhh entrance. My beautiful beautiful boy

You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well.

😃 oh. We're doing the death. 😃 Oh 👍

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

“You’re my first priority today,”

Can I be your first priority everyday

At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

Wow I cannot express how absolutely unnecessary it was to kill Fred. Wow. This is supposed to be cute but 😃 I don't agreeeee 🙅‍♀️ NO MAAM

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAA

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

GASP. RIZZLER GEORGE. SEE 🫵 YOU'RE OUT HERE LAUGHING WHEN 🫵 YOU CONTRIBUTED TO THE CANON THAT IS RIZZLER!GEORGE

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

She so me. Icon

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

IM COMING GEORGIE! STAY BACK

(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

... 🧍‍♀️ Miss ma'am what is the context of this I must have been hella cute ANYWAY IT IS I CAN SEE HIM LAUGHIN--- OH FUCK I REMEMBER NO IT IS HE TURNED WHATSHERFACE PURPLE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

Damn are those actual flavors in the series or did u just think of them. Slayed. Loathe to eat either tho HAHAAHA

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

?????? HELLO????. #1 ☝️ idc if ur brother died in not sharing my ice cream (JK JK WE COULD SHARE DNA AND MAKE A BABY I LOVE YOU) #2 ✌️ *inhale* WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Case in point. Rizzler!George

Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

????? QUEEEE MAMACITA???? MOANED I mean sure but like??? IN FRONT OF GEORGE IS CRAZY (I understand you)

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵RIZZLER!GEORGE WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT COME HERE GIMME KITH

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

I'll give you a baby

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

I would NAWT be silently sobbing. I would be on the floor bawling

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

THEE George Weasely 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 lil bro will freak if they ever have a genetic collaboration (if he lives that long)

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

🫵you🫵 meet me outside. Send your location. I just want to talk. Shhh shhhh don't fight it (fiGHT ME)

Id give you a 10/10 but you killed Fred so 0/10 I'm sorry I don't make the rules. Idc if this got me geeking. YOU KNOW WHAT ACTUALLY FINE YOU CAN HAVE 10/10 YOU MADE ME FEEL NOTHING. I FEEL NOTHING

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did it all, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of what I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

#george weasley #weasley twins fanfiction

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na0koz · 2 days ago

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can you pls write more toxic vi🤤

yes i Can!

the moment vi realised she actually likes you, your relationship instantly became impossibly more difficult. she avoids you even more and if you do hang out, she tries her best to keep your interactions to a minimum (fucking then leaving your apartment while you’re asleep).

after a couple of weeks of her acting up - somehow even more than she already had been - you called her about a thousand times until she picked up.

“the fuck do you want? christ…” she practically barked, running her hands through her hair as she leant on the front door of her apartment.

“i want you to hang out with me, violet! you’re acting even more like you hate me than usual recently, and i do not like it. if you want this to be over, just say it ‘cus i’ve had enough of you honestly,” you gush, sitting up in your bed and waving your hands around as if she was really in front of you.

there was a beat of silence, and you briefly thought she hung up on you when you brought your phone away from your ear. surprisingly, her contact was still displayed on the screen with the call still running.

“don’t call me violet,” her voice sounded softer than when she first answered your call. she sounded upset.

you scoffed loudly, “are you fucking kidding me? that’s all you have to say?”

more silence followed, and your patience was running thin.

“hello? i asked you a question.”

“don’t really know what you want me to say.”

you groaned at her tone of voice, bored and uninterested. “well for starters-“

vi was quick to interrupt you. “i don’t really have the energy for this. see you,” she hung up before you could even get a breath in.

in the following two weeks, you only saw vi once. even that was a result of her physically running into you by accident on a street near your apartment.

her eyes widened as she realised it was you who she’d bumped into, quickly changing her ‘watch where you’re fucking going’ to an ‘oh sorry’. she grimaced slightly at the way you gave her a horribly dirty look, clearly not too pleased to see her.

she swiftly made her way around you and hurried away. you could’ve sworn you heard her mumbling ‘fucking idiot’ to herself as she walked away.

about a week after that, you heard some loud knocking at your front door. groggily grabbing for your phone, you see that the time reads 4:23am. who the hell is at your door at this hour? you whine as you drag yourself up to answer.

swinging the door upon while rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re faced with a slightly drunk vi leaning on your door frame.

“um?” you rasp, sleep clouding your voice.

“hey…” vi mumbles. “i.. i need you, [name].”

she slumped forward into your shoulder as she babbled, you trying your absolute hardest to hold her muscular form upright, hearing her whining out a ‘please’ as you reluctantly shut the door behind her.

“you can’t just show up asking to fuck after barely speaking to me for three weeks, vi.”

“what-? no no. i’m not here to fuck you. i need you, please.” she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned at the sudden brightness as you flicked the light on.

you couldn’t even muster anything to say, pushing her to sit down while you stand opposite her. she squints up at you in return, looking completely helpless. sighing at her messed up state, you decide to join her on the sofa.

“what?” you question, trying your best not to get annoyed with her for showing up unannounced like this for the millionth time.

“just-“ she interrupted herself with a burp. “just like… hold me. please.”

before you can react, she leans herself onto you, resting her head in the space between your shoulder and chest. her weight pushed you to lie down on your sofa and she took the chance to make herself more comfortable.

her leg wrapped around you as she clutched your waist with one hand, using her free arm to push you to put your arms around her. she sighed shakily as your hand relaxed onto her back.

“sorry princess, i jus’ need this, okay?” she said quietly, her eyes drooping in time with the rise and fall of your chest.

you don’t say anything in return. you know she’s drunk, you can smell it on her, but a small part of yourself feels like she’s serious. drunk words are sober thoughts, right?

but of course, you wake up cold and with vi nowhere to be found. the only proof you have of her even being there was a faint smudge of her black eye makeup on your shirt.

she got scared and bailed in the middle of the night. again. she’s embarrassed, and toys between the ideas of either blocking you, changing her number or going back to your apartment and telling you how she really feels.

in the end, she doesn’t choose any of them. she can’t lose you completely, but she’s way too much of a coward to express her true feelings towards you. shocker.

#vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi imagines #vi league of legends #vi fanfic #vi

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princepotionsss · 1 day ago

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poly! tf141 hybrids x reader au 1/5

Warnings: reader is afab, language, allusions to sex

(Pls be nice I’m not the best at writing, also not proofread)

You who just tags along with your friend who wants to adopt a hybrid. You who walks by and an older mastiff hybrid with a bucket hat sitting alone in a cage catches your eye. The shelter worker stops and tells you about him. That he was a military hybrid but his last owner was KIA and he was put here.

You pause not wanting a hybrid but seeing him look so sad and without purpose you adopt him on the spot.

Bringing Captain John Price home was an awkward endeavor. His ears were perked on alert and his tail not moving as he looked around the big farmhouse. Getting used to each other was another thing on its own. The older hybrid was used to being in control with his owner and now you, a young thing is in control? AS IF!

This leads to fights where you try and stick up for yourself you really do “no the dishes don’t go there.” “You can’t even reach so why do you give a fuck?”

One fight gets so bad it ends up with both of you yelling and him storming closer causing you to flinch thinking he was going to attack you. The older hybrid stopped immediately and his poor fluffy ears pinned down sadly and his tail tucked inbetween his legs.

John tentatively reaches out for you softly taking your arm in his large hand

“I’m-“ he wasn’t one for apologies so instead he took you into his arms, first time you two ever actually touched, and held you in the middle of kitchen.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His gruff thick accent bled into the silent atmosphere.

From that moment on you two were inseparable, no longer having your own rooms, space, etc. John Price was attached to your hip guarding his new found purpose, you.

Intimacy grew between you two something you never thought would happen. It wasn’t even a thought but John had other ideas the moment he made you his everything. It started with little touches on your lower back with “excuse me.” as he scooted by you in the grocery store. Those little touches became bolder when watching tv he would pull you into his lap saying some bullshit like he was anxious, bastard wasn’t anxious he just wanted to run his large calloused hands up and down your sides and plushy thighs, his hands sometimes dipping into the inside of your thighs, all ‘accidentally’ of course.

He would mutter “sorry” but keep his hand grazing up and down fingers scratching against your shorts. Your cheeks would flame and all you could mutter “it’s fine.” As heat pooled in between your thighs.

John knew he was affecting you, he could smell it. But he never went any further, just liked to tease and watch you squirm. A small smirk etched across his lips hidden behind his facial hair.

It only took a little while longer before you snapped. Both of you were laying in bed trying to go to sleep but his stupid large hands found there way to your upper thigh running his fingers up and down teasingly. His fingers went up across the front of your shorts grazing your cunt causing you to let out a small moan be for you could even stop it. His fingers stopped and your face flushed as your back was to him. You knew John had heard it, hybrid or not.

Next thing you know you are on your back and John was over you his eyes wide and his ears on alert, his tail thumping gently against the sheet.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He said in a low voice hands gripping your wrists above tour head .

#tf 141 #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #au #hybrid au #hybrid John price #cod x reader #poly!cod x reader

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allurilove · 3 days ago

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Calm yandere is so cuteeee I just wanna marry him. Waitttt what if I asked him to marry me on the spot during like a hangout or something?

That would be pretty cute actually! Unlike yandere classmate or yandere chaebol, he doesn’t need the proposal to be extravagant and prefers a more a lowkey one.

Your boyfriend waited patiently as you knelt down to tie your shoes, sitting on one of the park benches and taking in the beautiful scenery around him. The flowers were in full bloom, the sun was setting, and the gentle sound of waves nestling against the rocks filled the air. Despite the tranquil moment, his curiosity was piqued when he glanced your way and noticed how long you were taking.

He was genuinely starting to wonder if you had somehow forgotten how to tie your shoes.

Still in your kneeling position, you glanced back and forth, one hand hovering near your right pocket. You knew your boyfriend could be a little shy around other people, and the last thing you wanted was to accidentally draw a crowd. After making sure the coast was clear, you let your fingers brush against the velvety box hidden in your jeans. But just as you prepared to make your move, a passerby decided to stroll slowly past you, throwing off your plan.

The groan you let out caught his attention. “Is everything alright? Do you need help tying your shoes?” he offered, his tone kind but tinged with a bit of pity, as though he were trying not to judge you for taking twenty minutes to complete such a simple task.

“I know how to tie my shoes,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “I use the bunny ears method, thank you very much.” Then, shooting a glare at the slow passerby, you silently thought, Thanks for taking your sweet time, asshole.

“Bunny ears method? I haven’t heard that in a while. Maybe when I was like two or so.” your boyfriend quietly snorts, his hand reached out to give your head a somewhat condescending pat.

You swatted his hand away with a frown. “Stop that.” you said.

Finally, you took in a deep breath and asked the question.

“…No.”

“What?”

“Want me to say it in french? Non.” the man crossed his arms.

“Okay, no need to be so extra. I heard you.”

“I know.. it’s just that I’ve been on Duolingo— anyway, I think we’re moving a bit too fast.” your boyfriend sighed, his shoulders a little slumped, “I want us to be secure, have good jobs, and we haven’t even showered together before…”

Taking a shower together? He’s goddamn seen you naked before, so why the hell does that matter?! “Since when was that a criteria to getting married? Is that such an important milestone for you?”

Calm yandere shuts the box for you, nudging it so you would take it back. “My friends say that if we’re comfortable enough to take showers in front of each other, then we can marry.”

You stare at the yandere as if he had magically grown two heads in front of you. “Why would you listen to your friends who are single losers, and have probably never even touched another person?”

“Huh, you’re right.” Calm yandere takes the box, opening it back up, and he then slid his finger inside of the ring. “It fits nicely,” he hummed out of happiness.

“I love you and I accept your proposal.”

#Allurilove asks #calm yandere x you #proposing to calm yandere

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ofbatsandballads · 2 days ago

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Hi Rae. Who gave you permission to snap my heart in two at midnight? No, really, this has me going insane so have my ranting under the cut:

He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see. […] But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

The way I’m already screaming “because he does have a place there!” before we’ve even hit the end. Something about Jason not being able to accept love not because other people are liars or insincere but because he can’t comprehend why anyone would love him is so heartbreakingly in character.

It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

Reciprocity—tit for tat, an eye for an eye—being so ingrained in his perception of the world and of himself that he can’t realize he doesn’t have to return the favor, that he can just accept the kindness for what it is, makes me want to cry. Thanks.

shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin.

Stray dog coded Jason who doesn’t know what to do when touch doesn’t hurt is so dear to me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: your characterization of him is golden.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does.

Jason who loves so deeply, so completely that it could destroy him. Jason who has spent both of his lives just trying to stay above water, running from anything that could harm him. Jason who was killed because he loved so fiercely. Just…him finding himself loving someone that much again and sort of bluescreening on what that means for him.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

The absolute overpowering emotion of needing to drill it into his head with love and kindness and care that there is a happy ending with all of that actually. And that he does deserve good things and patience and love. I just know loving him would be so frustrating sometimes but that each time it would just make you want to stick around more.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

So this whole paragraph took me out but that last line destroyed me. The phrase “truly and devastatingly unwanted” is going to live rent free in my head for a while now.

it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else.

I recently read a piece of Jason meta that said that he would accept any and all harm or mistreatment just to get the companionship and love he craves and this really speaks to that because why are you picking up ice cream when you’re bleeding out??? Oh, it’s because he thinks he’s unworthy of basic human decency if he has nothing to offer.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

Clawing at the walls while screaming “they do it because they love you!!!” I love reading this from the perspective of his partner because it’s just sitting here listening to the internal monologue of man that is confidently incorrect. Your description of him being an unreliable narrator is spot on.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

One of my favorite things about how you write Jason is that he always, without fail, breaks at the end just a little bit. The sustained love and care and kindness always manages to get the tiniest foothold in his soul, like a flower growing through a crack in concrete. Even when he thinks he’s being selfish or delusional or blindly hopeful. It’s so true to what loving someone like him would be like—slow and gradual and hard fought, but resolute and unflinching.

So yeah, in short I love this with my entire being and I will be sending you the bill for my therapy (please never stop writing).

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

#jason todd x reader #rae I know I’m always unhinged in your reblogs but it’s bc you understand the guy I’ve been rotating in my brain for over a decade so well #your Jason is perfect and he makes me very sad and very happy and deeply in love #all time faves

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 days ago

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Ok hear me out…Drunk Karaoke, with any girls *ahem M16 ahem*, where their s/o gets a little too tipsy and starts singing to them when s/o’s favourite song comes on

I’m sorry I’ve been playing payday2 so much and have unironically been singing this banger while doing chores -

I will give you my all, pretty baby, I'll come whenever you call for me, baby, yeah

I will give you the best of me

The best of me, The best of me

(H:SR) Fugue and Serval's S/O getting drunk and singing Karaoke

Alternative Titles: Like a Butterfly/TONIGHT

You know, I was actually listening to a song that made me think of Fugue, and this gives me the perfect excuse. Girl deserves to laugh anyway with what she's been through. Fugue gets the all star treatment with a short fic since this particular brainworm has taken hold of me for the last few days for her specifically. Meanwhile, I'll be twisting the ask a little and having Serval be the lead singer, but you'll see the reason for that. Content: Yakuza Karaoke Jumpscares, Funny for Fugue, Feels for Serval Word Count for Fugue's Part: 1.4k

Fugue and S/O took a while to reconnect, considering all that had happened. It was not a smooth transition, and to imply otherwise would be a bold-faced lie.

But through some perseverance from both parties, things had gotten to some sense of normalcy again. Quiet moments of getting to drink tea with S/O, watching the people stroll by got her to remember in flashes of what she loves.

And more importantly, who she loves as well. Though, tonight was a bit different. Instead of tea, S/O opted to drink something a bit more alcholic.

And for some odd reason, alarms began ringing in Fugue's head, but she couldn't quite place why. Instead of intervening, she decided to let S/O drink and find out for herself why this premonition came to her.

Only to realize that even in her current state, her past self was warning her: For the love of god, do NOT LET S/O DRINK.

A warning that came too late, she feared.

(S/O) HIC! "Ah! Now THAT hits the spot!"

Fugue ears slightly recoiled at their volume, a foreboding sense of deja vu washing over her.

(Fugue) "I-I see...How often did we go drinking together, out of curiousity?"

S/O turned to face their lover, slightly off balance and red in the face as they frowned, struggling to remember.

(S/O) "Hmmmmm....Iunno. We just drank some tea and stuff. You never let me drink, usually."

(Fugue) I think I'm beginning to remember why.

Fugue was only lost in her thoughts for a moment longer before S/O smiled at her, causing to become slightly flustered under their attention.

(Fugue) "S/O?"

(S/O) "You're so beautiful..."

The way they had said it sounded like it took every fiber of their being to say it correctly, a fact that made Fugue giggle, her own affection barely being contained by her smile.

(Fugue) "Always the charmer, I see.~"

Fugue finishes the rest of her tea before moving over to help S/O up, effortlessly dragging them to stand as one arm was looped around her neck.

...Strange. She can't help but feel like this used to be harder to do. Oh well, this is probably the one of the few things she can't complain that's different now.

Before she can even take a single step, she immediately gets startled by S/O who suddenly stands upright on their own.

(S/O) "I WANT TO SING WITH YOU!"

(Fugue) "...W-Wha-?"

They grab her shoulders gently, yet firm enough that causes her to freeze in place as her tail and ears shoot up in surprise.

(S/O) hic! "We should sing the night away with some music!"

(Fugue) "Karaoke? Well, I suppose there are a few bars here that host-"

(S/O) "GREAT, LET'S GO!"

(Fugue) "W-WAH?!"

Getting dragged along to one of the nearby bars in the Loufou, S/O rented a room to themselves, with S/O excitedly sitting down and taking a peek through the song list.

Fugue meanwhile felt like she was suddenly in over her head. She knew that she had a nice voice, but enough to sing?

Regardless of what kind of singing voice she possessed, S/O was not going to let her dwell on it.

(S/O) "Okay, you can take the lead and I'll be your backup vocals!"

(Fugue) "You want me to be the lead singer? I think you should-"

(S/O) "NAH!"

S/O flopped their head onto her lap, making her jump slightly.

(S/O) "I'm...a little gone right now...Besides, this song I wanna hear your voice, it's my favorite!"

Fugue took the song list from S/O and examined the title.

(Fugue) "Like a Butterfly?"

She tried scrounging whatever scrap of memory was in her head, and nothing came up, though the name didn't exactly stir anything either. As if sensing her thoughts, S/O grabbed the list back and put it on the Karaoke Machine.

(S/O) "I...didn't really tell you about this song. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure, to be honest!"

That at least made her feel a little better, fearing that she was forgetting yet another important memory, and instead just something-

...Wait, why was S/O embarrassed to show this to her?

(S/O) "I always sing the rap parts by myself, but now I have you to sing the lady's part!"

Drunk rapping? Oh boy.

(Fugue) "Well...I'll give it my best shot...!"

(S/O) "Great, we have all night!"

Well, at least this night would be something to remember, for better or worse.

[Song: Like a Butterfly]

Fugue swayed from side to side as the beat of the song kicked in, meanwhile S/O was bobbing their head violently, grabbing their microphone and shouting with their entire heart as their part came first.

(S/O) "BE REBORN! CLIMB OUT OF HELL, BORN AGAIN! LET'S FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY!"

Fugue smiled and grabbed her own microphone, singing timidly in comparison to S/O's manic energy.

(Fugue) "It's drowning in its greed, the wicked trap was sprung, Tangled in the threads of its deeds!"

From the lyrics alone, Fugue could tell that she would like this song as well.

(S/O) "TANGLED IN ITS CRIMES!"

Fugue tapped her foot as the song got faster, being infected by S/O's energy, her eyes on them the entire time as both of them smiled, her voice growing louder as she sang her next part.

(Fugue) "Like fate scoops up a fish, struggling in a net Its brittle wings are torn by the tears as it trembles in cold sweat!" (S/O) "YOU TORE YOUR WINGS NOW CRY!"

S/O was clapping to the rhythm, getting Fugue more into the feel and just having fun at this point, neither of them particularly caring if they were great. While Fugue's voice was bewitching, S/O's voice came crashing like a fingernail to chalkboard.

(Fugue) "The spider comes, a thirst in its eyes-" (S/O) "A BUTTERFLY WITH NO WINGS IS A MOTH IN THE FLAME! JUST A RAT ON THE FLOOR WITH ANOTHER NAME!"

Subconsciously, Fugue could tell why S/O sang this alone as the rapping was ridiculous, but she could not deny that this was really fun to sing along to with another person, lover or otherwise.

(Fugue) "The venomous fangs sink into the soul-" (S/O) "THIS WORLD IS DEAD, NO LIGHT LEFT TO FIND! IT'S TOO LATE-"

Fugue joined S/O in standing up, both of them swaying to the beat, though S/O's was far more aggressive as they sang their parts like they were rapping on stage, something that made her almost break down laughing.

(Fugue) "Too late now, to mourn it's punctured wings, to take to the sky!" (S/O) "TAKE TO THE SKY!"

With any former hesitation gone, Fugue smiled as she just enjoyed the rest of the song with her lover enthusiastically cheering her on by remaining on backup vocals.

If only it could be, just one more time (TO THE BITTER END IN OVERDRIVE!) Engrave the beat, flap your wings 'til you feel you are complete (FLY, HIGH!) Oh you tragic butterfly Despairing, craving it, that singular last ray of light still shining down on bitter wings (BE REBORN, CLIMB OUT OF HELL BORN AGAIN! LET'S FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY! YOU'VE DREAMED LONG OF THIS DAY, DREAM AGAIN!) So fly high again (AND FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY!)

Like a butterfly (TO THE BITTER END OVERDRIVE,BURNING OUT IN AN ENDLESS DRIVE!) Soaring in the sky like a butterfly (TO THE BITTER END OVERDRIVE, BURNING OUT IN AN ENDLESS DRIVE- OH YEAAAAAAAAAH!)

Fugue couldn't hold back her laughter anymore, doubly so when S/O finished off the song.

(S/O) "FLY LIKE A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY, FLY LIKE A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY!"

Finally catching her breath, Fugue sat back down, still laughing as S/O cheered, flopping down next to her and struggling to catch theirs.

(S/O) "Like the song?"

(Fugue) "Hm, not my usual style admittedly but...I do resonate with the lyrics."

(S/O) "Hm...? Why's that?"

...Oh right, they were still drunk. As if their "singing" wasn't reminder enough. But, honestly just something as simple as singing a dumb song was enough to lighten her spirit, and though it didn't call any particular memory to mind, it was something like this that reminded why 'Tingyun' fell in love with S/O in the first place.

Though, she figured she'd better take the song's advice and start focusing on new memories, rather than any old one for now.

(Fugue) "Well, what other songs do you have for us?"

Seeing their eyes glimmer at that, S/O began rushing through the song list for another one, all the while Fugue's smile grew even bigger.

(S/O) "SERVAAAAAAL!"

Serval was nearly glomped by S/O, causing her to laugh and set her drink far away from the edge of the table.

(Serval) "Oof, hey! Think ya had enough?"

From their breath and flushed face, that answer was most definitely a-

(S/O) "Heh, nope!"

S/O rested their head on her shoulder, almost threatening to yank her off.

(S/O) "I want to sing a song with you!"

(Serval) "Hm, is that right?"

After a few hiccups and almost losing their balance, they nodded aggressively.

As funny as it would be to have their drunk ass sing some rock and roll...She had a different idea in mind.

(Serval) "I'll cut you a better deal, you get to hear a song I've been working on by myself! An exclusive sneak peek!"

S/O's eyes glowed and they stumbled onto a nearby chair.

(S/O) "Y-Yeah! I wanna hear it!"

Though Serval was smiling, there was a hint of sadness in it.

That hint being big enough for S/O to catch onto it, even when alcohol was scrambling their senses.

(S/O) "...Babe, something wrong?"

Serval laughed at the petname and shook her head, uncharacteristically becoming shy as her finger tapped the table.

(Serval) "Not really just...This song isn't my usual kinda style, ya know? Don't wanna bore you to death with it."

(S/O) "Nothing you could share to me could ever be boring! I...just might pass out from the alcohol is all."

Serval rolled her eyes.

(Serval) "Gee, that makes me feel better."

(S/O) "Just shut up and grab your guitar already!"

Serval took a deep breath and grabbed her guitar and hooked up her phone to play the other instrumental parts she had done herself, looking at S/O, and then to the ceiling and closing her eyes.

(Serval) "I've kept this one hidden for a while, thought it might be a bit too personal but...Eh, what the heck. This one goes out to...a friend now gone."

S/O's smile grew more somber at that, having an inkling of who she was talking about.

[Song: Tonight -restart from this night-]

Serval's pick began strumming along the strings of her guitar, as she began singing, her tone growing much more heartfelt.

(Serval) "Back in the day, I thought I was strong, that I was the one who could right every wrong, Years roll on by, time does what it does, so hard to hold on to the people we love."

Serval's foot was tapping in rhythm, her eyes catching a glance at S/O, their hand doing the same. Smiling softly at that, she continued her song.

(Serval) "I've lost count of the days, And though I never stop thinking of you, We have gone our separate ways-"

Serval's mind rushed back with memories, where S/O was sitting, Cocolia was there, hanging off every word she was singing with a bright smile.

And that made Serval forget entirely about her mini stage-fright, singing as if there was no audience at all and simply speaking from the heart now.

So, tonight, let's start again From this night, rewrite the way it ends You and I would laugh And sing all night like we'd always meant

Part of her wondered if the Cocolia she knew would poke fun at her, thinking this song was a bit too sappy for what Serval usually did.

Would this song have even moved the Supreme Guardian at all?

Maybe. Serval would never know.

So, tonight, you'll find me there The nights we shared in places drinks would flow And the sun never rose And life meant living the life we chose

If I could relive the moment we drifted apart I'd right every wrong for you Whatever life asks from me, I will do Just to see you smile and waste a night with you

Serval closed out the song with a final strum, letting the instrumentals finish it out.

After opening her eyes again, she saw S/O with tears welling in their eyes, rubbing them aggressively with their sleeves.

The sight got her to laugh a little, despite the fact a part of her felt like tearing up as well.

(S/O) "That...song is beautiful! Why don't you play that?!"

(Serval) "Hah...maybe someday, but like I said, I'm still working out some little tidbits here and there on it."

(S/O) "Then...Then I can sing it instead!"

That had Serval suddenly burst into laughter, nearly dropping her guitar.

(Serval) "Maybe when I can't smell the drink you had all the way from here, I'll consider it!"

Serval shook her head and sat next to S/O, wiping away the tear on their cheek with her thumb.

(Serval) "How 'bout a different song huh? I can play it for ya, and you can scream like an idiot!"

(S/O) "Hey!"

Smiling at their pout, S/O was doing a good job of lifting her spirits already. Thanks to them, and many others, she wouldn't stay in the past.

...But, she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't want her best friend back.

Maybe for S/O, and the Cocolia she knew, she'd play that song for a real audience someday.

...But not tonight.

#honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail x reader #tingyun x reader #serval landau x reader #tingyun x y/n #tingyun x you #tingyun honkai star rail #fugue x reader #fugue honkai star rail #fugue hsr #serval landau #serval honkai star rail

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evervigilantnightshade · 3 days ago

Text

Guarded - Part 5

Reader is stubborn, sassy, and has a past filled with trauma. Joel new to Jackson is dealing with his past and is struggling to deal with his new life. They meet and can't stand each other, yet there's something under all their banter neither can deny.

Reader x Joel Miller

MDNI

Warnings: ALL THE SMUT. Edging. Oral male.

Joel looked over at Y/N sitting across from him on the couch, sipping her whiskey, her face still white from their conversation about the fireflies. He wanted to lighten the mood again so he decided to toss a joke her way.

“You know, you haven’t pissed me off in about four hours. I’m starting to feel like you actually like me and you’ve just been tryin to hide it.”

Joel knew she was the most comfortable when they were going at each other.

She looked at him though with a flirty smile and slowly lifted her glass to her lips, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

“You wish.” Her voice was low and sultry.

“Jesus darlin.” He groaned and downed his whisky, his mouth suddenly going dry. “What’d I tell you about that?”

“Awe Miller did I make your tummy tingly”

“Made something tingle.” He muttered but she heard him and chuckled

“Fuck, how’re you going to make it through four days of this?”

“Probably have to spend some alone time in the woods.”

She laughed and downed the rest of her whisky.

“I mean you don’t have to go in the woods. I’d be fine with you doing what you need to do right here. I told you already, it’d be hot.”

Was she really doing this? Was she really going to push this to see where it goes? Fuck yes she was.

“Is that right?”

Joel shifted so he was closer to her, his hand resting on her knee.

“Who said anything about touching me?” She moved her knee and brought her foot up, placing it on his chest, pushing him back lightly.

Yes she planned on fucking Joel eventually, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

“You’re a brat you know that?” He rested his one arm on the back of the couch while his other hand gripped her calf.

“I mean if it took you this long to figure that out…”

“Your mouth just doesn’t stop does it?” His hand now moved up to the back of her knee.

“Sometimes.” She licked her lips and then bit her bottom lip causing him to groan.

She pulled back from him completely and grabbed the bottle of whisky, pouring herself another drink. She then sat back on the couch with her feet tucked under her. She took a large sip of her drink and put down the glass before she turned to him and put her arm on the back of the couch, mirroring him, their hands barely touching.

“Show me.”

“Show you what sweetheart?” He looked at her like he was ready to pounce on her.

“Show me how badly you want this.”

He moved to close the gap between them but she put her hand on his chest pushing him back. He grunted in annoyance but she shook her head.

“I said show me.”

“I was showing you.” He ran his hand through his hair not understanding what she wanted.

“You know it’s no fun if I have to spell it out for you. I want to see how hard just the thought of me makes you.”

Joel’s eyes darkened understanding what she was asking. He undid the button of his pants and pulled himself out and she brought her thumb up to her mouth biting it lightly as she smiled.

“Do you see now? Do you see what you do to me?” He asked as he gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

“Have you thought about this a lot this week? Have you laid in your bed with your hand on your cock thinking about all the things you want to do to me?”

Joel nodded and his hand lightly stroked himself up and down. She shifted slightly, digging her heel into her sex, trying to provide some relief. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

“What have you thought about doing to me?”

“Thought about that mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.”

He began stroking freely now in a constant motion.

“What else?” Her hand began rubbing up and down her thigh as she watched him.

“Thought about my mouth on you. My head between your legs as your back arches off the mattress.”

His head tilted back and he let out a soft moan.

“You going to make me cum with your mouth Joel?”

“Fuck,” He grunted and his hips jutted forward his hand gripping tightly. “Love when you say my name.”

“I know, baby.”

“Thought about having you under me, calling my name as I fill you with my cock.”

At this point she was just frustrating herself. She stood up and pushed the coffee table back so she could sit on her knees in front of him. While he shifted so his feet were now on the ground facing her she quickly removed her chain whispering an apology and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. She then looked up to see Joel looking down at her with his hand still on his cock. She wished she could take a picture because fuck he looked good.

She reached up and grabbed his pants and he lifted his hips so she could pull them off. She then sat up and placed her hands on his knees.

“Alright baby, I need you to listen closely ok?”

He nodded his head, his eyes heavy with lust.

“You’re going to put your arms on the back of that couch there and you’re going to keep them there. No touching.”

“I wanna touch you.” His voice was thick and needy.

“You remember what I told you at your house. I’m in charge, I made the rules and you agreed to obey. So you’re going to be a good boy and obey me now.”

He paused for a moment, this was uncharted territory for him. He was the one who was always in control. Especially in the bedroom. However the way she was looking up at him now and the thought of relenting all control to her made his cock twitch so he nodded as he put his arms where she directed..

“Good boy. Your second rule is you don’t cum unless I tell you too. So if you’re getting close you better tell me. Understood?”

Joel nodded again and huffed out a breath through his nose.

“Alright, the moment your arms leave that couch I stop. And if you cum without my permission I won’t let you cum for a week.”

He was surprised at how turned on he was right now. She reached out and grabbed his cock, moving her hand slowly up and down, her other hand reached up and she swiped her thumb across the precum spilling out of the head, then she put her thumb in her mouth and hummed.

His head fell back but immediately snapped back up when he felt her tongue on the base of his cock as she licked him root to tip before inserting him into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around him before she slid her mouth down so far he felt himself hit her throat.

“Fuck Y/N” He called out and she moaned around him.

With one hand pumping the base, the other wrapped around his balls and her mouth pumping him over and over he felt like he was in heaven. He let his head fall back, concentrating on every single sensation he was feeling,

“God I knew your mouth would feel good baby. So good.”

Soft moans started leaving his mouth. His orgasm started building in him, he felt his body tensing up and his moans became louder and more erratic. When his balls pulled up he told her he was so close to cumming.

Instantly she pulled off of him everywhere, her hands landing on his thighs squeezing them tightly. He grunted out in annoyance and glared at her.

“What are you playin at?”

She smirked up at him and stopped squeezing his thighs instead now running her fingers up and down them.

“Come on baby, did you really think I wasn’t going to drive you just as crazy doing this as I do every other time we’re around each other?”

He frowned but she started running her fingers up over his stomach under his shirt and he started to relax. Her hands then moved back down to his cock and started stroking. Her mouth was on him instantly and she resumed her pace, bringing him closer again, pushing him further down her throat this time. He started feeling that familiar tingle and as much as he wanted to keep his mouth shut and not tell her for fear of her stopping, he grunted that he was close.

Again she stopped and grabbed his thighs and he swore in frustration. He was panting and his eyes were so dark they were practically black. He almost pushed himself off the couch to get up but she put her hand on his chest and then grabbed his balls, massaging them in her hand softly.

“Darlin I’m 56 years you keep doing that I’m going to lose it… oh oh. Nevermind.”

He relaxed back as she took him in her mouth again. And again when he came close she stopped. His head was spinning.

“Please.” He whined and she nodded.

“There you go baby. Beg me. Beg me to cum in my mouth.”

“Please let me cum. I want to cum in your mouth Y/N. Please.”

She smirked and then started again, this time harder and deeper than any other time. His orgasm came on fast except this time when he told her he was close she kept going. His vision blurred and he started pumping his hips in rhythm with her movement.

The biggest orgasm he’s ever felt was bubbling up to the surface and he felt it all over his body. His moans and movements became erratic and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore he released in her mouth. His body shook and his knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the back of the couch. She continued licking and sucking up every drop of him as came down from it all and he just rested his head against the back of the couch, his eyes closed.

She got up and went to the kitchen to get a towel to wipe her face and then came back and cleaned up the remaining drool on Joel. He still had his head on the back of the couch so she leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead.

“You did so good for me baby.” She sat down on the couch beside him and grabbed her whiskey. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

He looked up at her confused. She was still fully dressed and sitting there like it was over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked

“I’m hungry.” She repeated and got up and went to the kitchen. “Do you want to eat?”

“We’re not done here.” His voice stern.

“Yeah we are.” She said opening the cooler and pulling out a container. “Oh yum, mac and cheese.”

She started pulling out a pan and placed it onto the wood burning stove. Joel got up, and put his pants on before stomping into the kitchen.

“What the hell do you mean we’re done? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Oh I’m good, took care of myself while I was taking care of you.”

“Wait, you did?”

“Yeah, twice actually.”

“So that’s it, you give me a mind altering orgasm and then you want to what? Eat mac and cheese?”

“Exactly.” She smiled at him and then went and put the contents of the container in the pan.

“You are fucking impossible you know that?”

“I do.”

“I don’t understand you. You confuse the hell out of me.”

“Miller, what do you want? You want to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings in my ear? You and I both know I’m not going to be that kind of girl for you.”

“And what kind of girl will you be then?”

“That.” She said motioning to the couch. “That’s what I’ll be. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Joel’s body tensed. He knew they weren’t all of a sudden in love and were going to live happily ever after but what they just did meant something. He relinquished control to her, he’d never done that with anyone. But now she was standing there acting like it was no big deal.

He turned and grabbed his jacket off the chair heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” She asked her back to him as she focused on the pan in front of her.

“For a walk.”

He slipped on his boots and slammed the door behind him. As he walked he played out everything over and over again in his mind. He was angry. Angry with Y/N but more angry with himself. Tommy warned him. Told him if he did this it would leave him confused. Fuck why didn’t he listen to Tommy.

Y/N was the first person to make him feel this way. It was always him that was pulling away but she was and it drove him crazy. He wondered if it was just going years without contact or someone close to him but quickly shut that down when he realized he went longer than this before he met Tess.

Was it because she was a challenge? Was it because she was so much like him? Closed off and enigmatic. Fuck he didn’t know. All he knew is that his mind was a mess and he didn’t know what to do about it.

After walking for what felt like hours he walked back into the cabin and was met with silence. There was a plate of food wrapped up on the table and Y/N was nowhere to be found.

He slowly and quietly walked over to the open door of the bedroom and saw her fast asleep in the bed. The sight of her sleeping so soundly him even madder.

He turned and went to the kitchen table, grabbing the plate of food and putting it into the cooler. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the coffee table and laid himself down on the couch. He would have to resort to his old way of sleeping tonight, drinking until he passed out and forgot.

#joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader angst #joel tlou #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us hbo #john price #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel miller x y/n

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lavellansvh3nan · 2 days ago

Text

A Letter From Inquisitor Lavellan to Dorian Pavus

//OOC//: Hello again! These letters won’t leave my brain so I’m churning them out while the muse is there. Enjoy!

My friend,

I can practically see you brooding, you know. Which is your right and your past-time, by my count.

I won’t sit here and try to make excuses for my choices, there are no good ones anyway. I want you to know that no matter what, I never meant to hurt you. But that doesn’t make you less angry with me.

Perhaps I’ve caught you in a more benevolent mood, willing to hear me out. If Bull is near you when you read this letter, remind him that he owes me one. Or more likely you’ll crumple up this letter, probably set it on fire, and only spare a thought for me when you’re telling embellished stories around a gorgeous dining table. Either way, you are owed an explanation.

I remember when you told me of your intentions to try and change Tevinter. I was so proud of you, because I knew if anyone could make change in their home, it was you. The idea of watching my friend leave, knowing that it would be unlikely we’d see each other more than a handful of times among the years, was difficult to swallow. Especially after all you did to bring me back to life when Solas left.

You can say his name, you know. He isn’t going to appear around a corner and lunge at you. I’ve made him promise not to.

What you did for me in the months following his departure is a debt I’ll never be able to repay. I’ve known the love of a mother, a father, a lover, and a friend, but perhaps yours exceeds all of them. For yours is a loyalty, a steadfastness, a patience, that only comes with knowing someone completely and choosing to be with them in their dark moments.

Bathing me when I was covered in paint. Filling the endless silence of my despair with your constant prattle, being with me every single day I didn’t know what to do or how to move forward, it is a love I had never experienced or will ever experience again. It is unique to you.

When I finally came back to myself all those months later, realized you’d put your plans on hold for me, I was appalled. I assured you I would be fine and you finally went on your way. To start the life I knew you deserved. And look at all you’ve done! Minrathos and the Shadow Dragons would be nothing without your leadership.

I’ve spent the last eight years wondering what I would ever do if the chance came to see Solas again. In those first years, I was angry. And then I was lost, for a long time, though I think you were the only one who truly saw it.

Being the Inquisitor gave me purpose. I knew Thedas needed me. I wanted to help in whatever way I could, especially considering we’d inadvertently unleashed Solas on the world. And then there was the waiting, wondering when he’d strike. If he really intended to take us all down with him.

Over the years, I’ve spoken to so many about whether or not I believe Solas capable of tearing down the Veil. You, Bull, half the Inquisition, really. Most everyone agreed that Solas needed to be stopped by any means necessary. That he was a monster.

What was your poetic phrase? “A madman with the moral superiority of a guilty noble.”

Varric was the only one who believed Solas could be swayed. Told me that really, all Solas wanted was a reason not to go through with his plan. After what happened when Solas took my arm, I didn’t want to believe him. It was too painful to hope.

But then the reports came in, bit by bit from Varric. Noted from Solas, personal journals. Like he was leaving clues for us to find. As if his pride refused to relent but Solas, my vhenan, wanted us to stop him.

It wasn’t until I spoke with Rook, actually, that I knew for certain that if I saw him again, when I saw him again, things weren’t through between us.

Call it soulmates. Call it a connection through space and time. Or, call me a fool, as you already have. All are probably correct. But I’ve know since the moment I met Solas that something tied me to him. When I saw him again, I didn’t see the Dread Wolf. I saw my vhenan, beaten and broken and tired. Drowning in his regrets, a slave to what he thought was his journey to redemption. And in that moment, I swore Varric was standing there right beside me, telling me that the one thing that would sway Solas was love. And he was right.

Especially after his final encounter with Mythal (That is another letter entirely. One I know you’re dying to read, so if nothing else, allow me to indulge you in my next response)

To be perfectly clear— I do not love him more than you. I could love no one more than you. No matter where I go, I’ll be with you. Just as you told me when you returned to Tevinter. But it is different. Just as you have Iron Bull, and we both know logic has no place in your relationship with him.

*the last sentence is a crossed out line, still legible, as though Lavellan is teasing Dorian*

Now, this isn’t goodbye. This isn’t even see you later. Solas has assured me I can enter and leave the Fade whenever I choose. Thanks to Rook, there are plenty of Eluvians available for me to come and visit. If you’ll have me. I understand you plan to pout, to hate me for a few weeks, as is your right. Don’t brood too long, however. I know you’re chomping at the bit to know all that’s transpired.

Just know, I’ll never be far from you.

With love, always,

Elliana

#lavellan #solavellan #dragon age inquisition #dragon age veilguard #dragon age dorian #dorian pavus #letters from inquisitor Lavellan to Dorian Pavus #inquisitor lavellan #dragon age #their friendship is everything to me #dorian x iron bull #solas x female lavellan #solas dragon age #solas x inquisitor

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bxllxebxtch · 17 hours ago

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The One I Wanted

warnings: angst, depression, self harm, wlw, mean!billie, cursing, fluff

a/n : While i was writing another fanfic i got this idea and said why not :)

Your body shivered as the sharp razor blade cut through your soft, tender skin. Blood trickled down your hand and onto the floor, as tears rolled down your soft cheeks mumbling soft words "Why not me...bills...you're the one i wanted.." your heart torn to pieces, as you fell apart on the bathroom floor. "I wanted you...i needed you..." you mumbled, your words soft as the soft breeze blew through the small bathroom window. A few minutes later, you weakly rose from the floor wiping your tears as you cleaned the floor and took a shower. After you showered you put on your pajamas and put bandages on your hand then went to your bed slowly drifting of to a sleep, as you wrapped the soft, warm covers around your body.

The next morning you got ready for school, wearing a long sleeve black top with a baggy cargo pants. The day was awkward as you saw Billie walking around the school with her 'girlfriend' slowing breaking you. As the last bell of the day rings dismissing the school, one of my friends caught up to me as i walked home "oh hey Sama.." you say your voice soft and gentle. "Heyyy, so you don't have a choice but you're coming to my sleepover at my dorm, see you there at 9!" she says happily "But Sama- " she skips far away from you not giving you a chance to say no.

Later one that day you found yourself going to the sleepover, wearing a baggy, long sleeve top and long, baggy pants to cover your scars. All eye laid on you as you entered the dorm, as no one thought you'd actually come "Sit next to Billie and her girlfriend!" your friend says. You knew you shouldn't have come, as you sat next to the cute couple there is a tense tension between you and Billie not one of you daring to say a word. Later on that night everyone leaves, leaving you and Billie alone. "why..." she pauses for a moment hesitating "Why are you so quiet...." she ask calmly. "No reason..." you reply softly.

"Don't fucking lie to me" her voice is stern, as a tear threatens to fall down your cheek. She scoffs "So fucking pathetic" she murmurs. Finally you break, "You want to know why...because...because i want you...i fucking want you.." tears stream down your face, "N-No...your fucking lying" she denies. "I am not! Billie i needed you...wanted you.." you say your voice cracking with emotion. You slowly lift your sleeves showing her your scars "I did this because i thought i deserved it..." he tough facades breaks, crumbling down as tears fall down her face. She touches the scars gently, her fingertips as soft as a feather as tears fell down her cheek. "No, no, no, no...." she murmurs "please...never do that again" Your face falters with confusion and anger "Why...you don't need me...why should i stay" you say your heart heavy.

"fuck...because...because...because i fucking need you!" she say loudly and angry tears rolled down her pink cheeks. Your face is laced with sadness, anger and confusion as she cups your cheek gently. Suddenly she slowly leans forward pressing a soft kiss on your lips, you cant help but kiss her back pouring all your emotions into it. As she slowly pulls away she mumbles "Please...i love you still.." , regretting when her 'girlfriend' asked her to be hers. You both found yourselves hugging and cuddling as you both slowly fell asleep.

#billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fanfic #angst #i cant #this took a while #screaming crying throwing up #wlw #fluff #fypage #fyp

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snowysosturn · 3 hours ago

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Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension, toxic relationship, arguing

I woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. My eyes flickered open, it took me a minute to realise that I wasn’t in my room. Then it hit me, I was in Matt’s bed.

My heart sank, I sat up quickly, wiping the sleep from my eyes. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling a weird mix of comfort and awkwardness. Why did it feel so nice to be here?

I didn’t ponder on the thought for too long. Pushing myself up, I walked out of Matt’s bedroom. I sauntered into the living area, and there he was, sprawled on the couch, one arm resting lazily over the back of the couch, the other holding his phone. His eyes looked up as soon as he heard me approach.

“How are you feeling now?” he said, his voice low

I stalled for a moment, still caught between the fog of sleep and the awkwardness of the situation. “Better..” I admitted. “Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed.”

He shrugged, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. “No problem. You needed the rest.”

The atmosphere in the room felt.. odd. Not in a bad way, just unfamiliar. Too nice. The kind of nice that would make you second guess everything. I scratched the back of my neck, trying to shake the feeling.

“I should go grab my sketch pad” I said quickly, breaking the silence. “I need to finish off some designs.”

Matt nodded, his expression unreadable as he watched me.

I gave him a quick side smile before turning and heading up the stairs to my room. I flicked on the lights and my gaze shifted almost immediately to the corner of my room. A white AC cooler now plugged in, keeping the room at a perfect temperature. My eyes then fell to my bed. Sitting on top of the neatly made covers was an eye mask and a pair of earplugs, placed carefully as if someone had intentionally left them there.

I stood there in slight shock. “Did Matt do all this?” I muttered to myself, picking up the eye mask and turning it over in my hands.

Maybe this was Matt waving a white flag. A quiet, small gesture of goodwill to make things easier between us. Maybe it would actually be easy to live here now. It was almost like a weight lifted off my shoulders, cutting through the animosity between us. I should go thank him,

Eye mask still in hand, I turned to make my way back downstairs. But just as I reached the door, the sound of voices carried up the staircase. Chris and Nick were back from their day of meetings.

“I genuinely should be your Director forever” Chris’s voice was loud and triumphant, with a bit of arrogance. “I would make such an impact working at Space Camp!”

Nick laughed, his tone sarcastic. “You took a few photos, Chris. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I hesitated in the doorway, before walking down the stairs, all four of us now gathered in the living area, but I felt a shift in the atmosphere again. Matt immediately returned to his usual cold demeanor. He shot me an arrogant look. "Look who's finally out of bed"

I raised an eyebrow, questioning why he’d say that, especially since he knew how I was feeling, how he went out of his way, in multiple forms to try fix it. It felt petty.

Chris tilted his head, curious. "Did you sleep all day?"

I shook my head, brushing off Matt’s comment. "No, just a nap. I had a migraine earlier" I explained. "But I’ve nearly finished my sketches for the patches." I added, eager to prove myself.

"Nice!" Chris said with an approving nod. "Can you show me them?"

Nick flopped onto the couch beside Matt, giving me a quick smile. “Of course she nearly has them done, it's like witchcraft how she gets things done so fast.”

I smiled back faintly, trying to settle into the group dynamic, though Matt’s comment still lingered in the back of my mind. It was a reminder that even with small moments of truce, things could snap back to how they were in an instant.

’Yeah let me go grab them” I agree.

Before I can leave, Chris’ phone buzzes, the vibration loud enough to catch both of our attention. The screen lights up with a name: Nate.

Chris grins, already reaching for it. “Hold that thought. Nate’s calling. I gotta answer this first.” Without waiting for a response, he picks up and disappears toward the bathroom for privacy, leaving the rest of us in the room.

I wander upstairs ti grab my sketch pad, not wanting to sit in the awkwardness with Matt. I step over the AC cooler, carefully avoiding the tangle of wires on the floor, and grab the sketch pad from my desk. My hand lingers for a moment over the cover, my mind racing with everything I still need to finish.

By the time I make it back downstairs, Chris has come back from the bathroom, grinning from ear to ear. His energy is even higher than it was before, showing a stark contrast to the tension that’s settled between Matt and I. Again.

“So, Nate’s in.” he says, sliding his phone into his pocket.

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Nate” Chris repeats, his grin widening. “Nick and I called him earlier and convinced him to come to Hawaii with us. He’s flying into LA tomorrow morning since there’s no other available flights, told him he could stay here while we’re in Vegas.”

“Wait, Nate’s coming here?” I ask, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. He was only someone I met briefly once, but he seemed cool.

“Yup. He’ll crash here until we’re back, then fly with us to Hawaii.” Chris explains, looking proud of himself.

Matt perks up instantly, his face lighting up with a genuine smile, which around me was a rarity. “That’s sick!” he says, leaning forward with sudden enthusiasm. “This is gonna be good.”

I can’t help but notice the shift in Matt’s tone. It’s the kind of warmth and excitement he never seems to have when he’s talking to me. Amazing, really, how he can be so happy with five people in this house but act so cold when it’s just four.

I drop into the chair across from him, clutching my sketch pad a little tighter. The contrast stings more than I want to admit, why is he like this with me? I decide to focus on Chris instead, who’s still riding the high from Nate’s call.

Chris plops back onto the couch, gesturing toward the pad in my hands. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I even have the energy to go through the designs, but I set the sketch pad on the table and flip it open to the latest pages.

Chris leans forward, his expression genuinely interested as he studies the designs. “These are unbelievable” he says after a few moments, nodding in approval. “Exactly the vibe I was thinking. We’ll go over colorways tomorrow, but this is a solid start.”

“Great I was thinking adding letters into the patches too, all we need to decide on a font.” I say, but realistically my thoughts are already elsewhere.

It’s hard not to feel like the outsider in this group sometimes, and Matt’s solely the reason. But then days like today confuse me, I catch myself thinking about the small things Matt has done, the AC, the earplugs, the eye mask, letting me sleep in his bed. Maybe I’m the problem?

I glance over at Matt, who’s back to scrolling on his phone, his expression unreadable. I sit back in my chair, flipping through the pages of my sketch pad while the idea lingers in my mind. I really should thank Matt for what he did, even if he’d probably just shrug it off or make some snide remark. Still, it feels right.

But how do I do it without the awkwardness? Without it becoming another weird, tension filled moment between us? Especially with other people around.

I pull out my phone and open the Uber app, scrolling through nearby stores. Target pops up, and I click on it, searching for something simple, like a Thank You card. I scroll past the overly formal ones and find one that feels more neutral, a plain white card with a gold "Thanks" embossed on the front.

As I add it to my cart, I pause for a moment, debating whether to leave it at that or add something else. A thank you card alone might come across as too formal, like I've not made that much of an effort. My finger hovers over the snack section before I give in and start browsing.

Matt isn’t exactly hard to read when it comes to his tastes. I’ve seen him tear through a bag of jelly worms during one of his late night streams, so I add a pack of those. Then a couple of chocolate bars for good measure. It feels like a decent enough gesture, casual, thoughtful, but not too over board.

I double check the delivery address and confirm the order. The app tells me it’ll be here within the next half hour. Perfect.

I glance across the room at Matt again. He hasn’t looked up from his phone, completely absorbed in whatever he’s scrolling through. Part of me wants to say something now, just to break the silence, but I don’t trust myself not to fumble over the words. This will be easier, quieter, but hopefully meaningful.

Chris, meanwhile, is still flipping through the sketches. “Seriously, you’re killing it with these” he says, his tone casual but genuine.

“Thanks” I reply, though my mind is still focused on the delivery.

About twenty minutes later, my phone buzzes with a notification: Your Target order has arrived. I slip out of the living area as discreetly as I can and head toward the front door.

The small brown bag is waiting at the door. I grab it quickly and head upstairs to my room, where I can put everything together without an audience.

I pull the card out first, grabbing a pen from my desk. I keep the message short:

Thanks for today, and the new bits for my room. I really appreciate it. - Y/n

It feels slightly awkward writing it, but at least it’s honest. I slip the card into its envelope and tuck it into the bag with the snacks.

Now comes the hard part. How do I get this to him without making it weird? After a moment of hesitation, I decide to leave it outside his bedroom door. He’s bound to come across it eventually, and it saves both of us the awkwardness of a face to face.

I wait until the living area clears out, Chris and Nick head to their rooms, and Matt disappears into his. Then, with the bag in hand, I quietly creep toward his door and set it down infront of the door.

Now all I can do is wait, and hope this can smooth out whatever tension is between us.

I head to my room and for once, the air feels bearable, thanks to the cooler Matt got me. I drop onto my bed, sighing into the quiet. I grab my phone, ready to set an alarm for the morning. My thumb hovers over the clock icon when a notification pops up at the top of the screen:

Thanks for ordering! How was your order? Tip Ethan.

I stare at it for a second, my stomach twisting. Ethan. God, that name. It feels like it’s haunting me, popping up when I least expect it.

I push the notification away reflexively, not clicking into the Uber app. I set my alarm and toss my phone onto the nightstand, my chest slightly aching. Why does something so small feel like a punch in the gut?

Shaking my head, I pull the blanket over me, turning onto my side. Tomorrow is a new day, I tell myself. A day to focus on work, on designs, on anything but ghosts from the past.

I close my eyes, hoping to let sleep take control.

The next morning, I wake up to the sound of my alarm blaring on the nightstand. I groan softly, but I force myself up, knowing I can’t afford to hit snooze. I stretch, pull on a hoodie, and head downstairs to the kitchen. The house is quiet, which I’m grateful for. Matt’s probably still asleep, and Nick doesn’t emerge before 10 if he doesn’t have to.

I make myself some scrambled eggs and toast, moving quickly around the kitchen, aware of the time. Chris and I have a meeting scheduled for 9am to finalize designs, and I’m thankful we get to do it here, at his kitchen table.

Chris walks in just as I’m finishing my coffee. His hair is slightly messy, and he’s wearing a black hoodie and joggers, looking like he just rolled out of bed.

“Morning” he says, voice husky.

“Morning” I reply, offering a small smile.

He gets himself a soda, leans against the counter, and takes a sip. “Ready for this meeting?”

“As ready as I can be for 9am” I say, grabbing my sketch pad and laptop from the chair beside me.

We settle at the kitchen table, Chris leans back in his chair, tapping his pen against the edge of the table as we go over the color options. The table is scattered with swatches, mockups, and half drank liquids.

“So” he says, holding up a navy, white and red combo, “I think this one is clean. It’s classic, but it’s fresh.”

I nod. “Agreed. Navy, white and red always works.”

We scribble down notes on the mockup before moving to the next pairing. Chris points to a pink and red combination I’d suggested earlier. “I actually love this. It’s bold but not obnoxious.”

“Right? It’s kind of unexpected but still wearable” I reply.

We continue debating until we settle on a full lineup: navy, white and red, pink and red, lilac and violet, and an all black option.

“All black is always a hit” Chris says, jotting it down. “This is solid. I think we’ve got something here.”

We sit in silence for a moment, both of us looking over the finalized ideas. It feels good to have something concrete, a sense of accomplishment settling over me.

Before we knew it, everything was finalized and sent off to the manufacturer for samples. I was filled with a sense of relief and excitement.

“Alright” Chris said, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’d better get going to the airport. Nate’s flight should be landing in an hour.”

As if timed perfect, Nick appeared at the bottom of the stairs, yawning and stretching dramatically. He leaned against the wall, still in his pajamas. “You’re heading to the airport?” he asked, his voice groggy but intrigued.

Chris nodded. “Yeah, to grab Nate.”

Nick’s eyes lit up. “Take me with you! I need breakfast. Please.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “You just woke up, and you want me to detour so you can fill your face?”

Nick clasped his hands together in mock pleading. “Yes! Please!. It’s a win win. You get company driving, and I get tater tots. Come on, you love me.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the exchange. Chris sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “Fine. But we’re not making a whole morning out of it. Quick stop and that’s it.”

Nick grinned triumphantly and darted back upstairs, calling over his shoulder. “Give me five minutes! I’ll be ready!”

Chris glanced at me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s like a child sometimes.”

I laughed. “That’s rich coming from you.”

As Chris grabbed his keys and jacket, he paused. “You good here?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve got plenty to do” I assured him as he headed out.

A few moments later, I heard Nick bolting back down the stairs, still pulling on his Ugg’s as he followed Chris out the door.

Now that the chaos of work had settled, I decided to take a rare moment for myself. I sank into the L shaped couch, grabbing the remote and began catching up on some shows. For once, it felt like I could truly relax.

Then all of a sudden, I hear this loud, insistent pounding at the front door, completely shattering any calm I created. I froze, unsure of what to do. I didn’t like answering the door in general. Maybe it was just a delivery? But the pounding continued, more urgent this time. Should I get it? I hesitated, glancing at the empty stairs. I mean, I did live here now, sorta. If it was something important and it was missed, it would be on me.

I hopped up from the couch, cursing under my breath about how Matt should really be the one to deal with this. Each step down the stairs felt heavier as the pounding persisted. I reached the door and swung it open.

And there he stood.

Ethan.

Of all people, Ethan.

The world around me started to spin. His face was the last thing I expected to see. He looked rougher around the edges, but unmistakably him. For a moment, neither of us spoke, just staring at each other.

“Hey” he said, his voice steady, but his eyes searching mine.

“What.. are you doing here?” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I needed to see you” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

My instinct was to shut the door, panic and adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mind spun. How did he know I was here? Then it clicked in my brain.

The Uber notification.

He was the driver.

“Wait!” Ethan yelled, shooting his hand out to block the door before it could fully close.

“Ethan, what the fuck? What the fuck are you even doing here?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low enough not to draw attention.

“Just hear me out” he said, his tone becoming more insistent with every sentence.

“No. Absolutely not. You shouldn't even know where I am.”

His lips pressed together into a thin line, already getting frustrated. “It wasn’t intentional. I seen the name and recognised the address and I just couldn’t leave it so-”

“So you thought randomly showing up was a good idea?” I interrupted, my voice now raising.

Ethan sighed aggressively, leaning against the doorframe, his hand keeping the door open with his firm grip. “I didn’t come here to fight. I just.. I wanted to see you. We didn’t exactly end things on the best terms.”

I let out a pitiful laugh, trying to keep my composure. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Look” he said, his tone softening, “I know I fucked up, but I’ve been thinking about you. About us.”

I shook my head, stepping back trying to make the distance between us known. “Ethan, whatever you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it here. You’ve honestly lost it, showing up here like this. After everything you did? Trashing my apartment, stealing my things, making me homeless. You crossed every line.”

Ethan threw his hands up defensively. “I came here to talk. To explain.”

“Explain?” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut. “Explain what? How you thought destroying my home was some way of winning me back? You’ve got to be fucking joking. I don’t want to hear it, Ethan. I just want my locket back. That’s it.”

Ethan’s expression darkened, and his voice dripped with venom. “You really are a bitch, you know that?”

His words hit me across the face, but I didn’t flinch. I’d dealt with his manipulation long enough to know how to stand my ground.

“Call me whatever you want. Just give me my locket.” I said firmly, trying to hold back tears longing for my locket.

Ethan smirked, taking a step closer. “I was going to give it to you. I really was. But not now. Not after you acting like this.”

I took a step back, my blood boiling. “Me? Acting like this? You’ve got some nerve, Ethan. Leave.”

He didn’t budge, his presence suffocating the space between us. I repeated myself, louder this time. “Go, Ethan. I’m serious. Leave. Now.”

But Ethan stayed firmly rooted in place, his defiance infuriating and almost threatening. Just as I was about to speak again, a voice came from behind me.

“She’s asked you to leave, kid.”

I turned to see Matt standing a few steps above me, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. His arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed, but his eyes told a different story.

Ethan’s face scrunched. “This isn’t your business, man.”

“It is when you’re standing at my front door,” Matt replied, his voice low and steady. “She’s told you to leave. I suggest you do before this gets embarrassing for you.”

Ethan’s stance finally cracked, and with a final glare in my direction, he muttered something under his breath before stepping back.

“This isn’t over” Ethan said, pointing at me as he turned to walk away.

“Oh, it is.” Matt laughed after him.

The door clicked shut, and for a moment, silence filled the hallway.

“You okay?” Matt asked, his face softening as he looked at me.

I nodded, though my heart was still thumping. “Yeah.. Thanks for that.”

Matt shrugged. “No problem. Guy’s a fucking loser.”

I displayed a small smile, but the feeling of the encounter lingered. Ethan may have left, but his shadow loomed, reminding me that he wasn’t out of my life just yet.

As we walked up the stairs at the front door, the sound of voices and footsteps echoed from the garage staircase. A second later, Chris, Nick, and Nate appear in the living area, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

Chris stopped mid laugh when he saw us standing there, his gaze flicking between Matt and me. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone curious.

a/n: protective matt unlocked

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

#snowy speaks #fire & desire #snowys sturniolo series #snowys series #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #enemies to lovers

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aristocratic-otter · 2 days ago

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Hi all! It's so lovely to see so many people motivated by the fresh feeling of a new year. Thank you for sharing your work with me, @artsyunderstudy, @nausikaaa, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @roomwithanopenfire,

@whatevertheweather, @bookish-bogwitch, @martsonmars, @bookishbroadwayandblind, and @prettygoododds.

One thing I learned from reading everyone's year-end retrospectives: if I want to be more involved, I need to stop being such a perfectionist! I could have been posting every week, but I'd be kicking myself over not having finished a piece of every single WIP...and so I wouldn't post. I'm gonna challenge myself to just post, even if I only wrote one thing the previous week. So that said, it was a vacation week for me, so along with posting my gift fic for @facewithoutheart, A Very Zombie Christmas, I did actually do work on a lot of my WIPs, and you can expect updates on at least two of them this week.

So, here we go. As always, I absolutely did not bother to count six sentences:

From my 2023 COTTA, Snow Fox:

It took some convincing to get Penny and Mitali out the window and up onto the roof. Well, more Mitali than Penny. Neither woman much liked the fact that their petticoats and whatever other underthings women wear would be clearly visible from underneath the whole time they were climbing.

Penny accepted it as a necessity with a grumble and an embarrassed flush, but Mitali truly balked at the idea. Finally, Pen suggested that I lower a loop of rope rather than an end of rope, and the women could sit in the loop and be hauled up. That resolved the whole ridiculous issue, and we had both women out of the house and onto the roof in short order.

From my COBB with @cutestkilla: The Rat and the River

I’ve always wanted to be part of one of Snow’s famous ‘lunch meetings’. Penelope’s told me about them. Simon thinks better with food, so all information is shared and ideas are circulated over meals in Simon’s team. I used to wish to be British myself so I could join his team and take part in these comfortable meetings of minds. I love food and I love talk, especially talk about disease. What could be more enticing than spending time over sandwiches with the famous Snow’s angels?

Especially one particular angel.

From Tiktok Dancer:

Penny, Shep, Agatha and I are all staring at him, jaws hanging loose in our surprise at his unexpected eloquence and passion. Baz just sips on his fruity cocktail and smiles back at us demurely.

I suddenly realize how little I know about this man I’ve fallen head over heels for. And not knowing makes me itch—I can’t stand it.

“What dream are you pursuing?” I blurt.

Baz looks at me steadily, and I can almost see him revising his first answer in his head.

From my Visitor Baz AU:

Baz is dead.

I can’t understand it. The idea that Baz, my terrible roommate, will never snark at me from his desk across the room from mine again…that he’ll never use up all the hot water with his endless showers or wear his uniform in such a way that makes it look designer while all the rest of us look boring. He’ll never suck down a rat in the catacombs or earn the highest score on a Magic Words exam.

Baz is dead.

From Saving Simon Snow (I’ve got to reread this one to get my mojo back on it, I think. But here’s six new shortish sentences):

In all our years of cohabitation, I’ve never seen Simon truly lose his temper with Bunce. With me, certainly. Hundreds of times. In the Catacombs, he was irritable and defiant. But now? The moment Bunce grabs hold of his arm, Simon goes off.

From CORB #1, Baby Mine with @argumentativeantitheticalg

His voice takes on that haughty, lecturing tone I used to hate so much. Or at least that I used to think that I hated. It made me want to slam him against the wall and get in his face.

I think I maybe just wanted to get my face on his face. Why was I so fucking stupid?

I’m lost in rumination on my own failings when the rise in volume from the crib and the pointed clearing of Baz’s throat both bring me back.

From CORB #2: The Stoves Come On At Night, with @ebbpettier

I wake up.

For several seconds, I blink groggily into the early morning light. I try to catch at the wisps of the dream I was having, but they’re fading.

I can’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Like I’d planned, I’d slept a few hours last night and then got up at three a.m. Three hours later, after I’d finished a sketchy patrol, I headed back to bed as the first rays of the sun were just breaking over the horizon.

It can’t be more than 8 am now. What on earth woke me up? Even if I can’t really remember it, I’d been having such a pleasant dream…

Suddenly, I realize that the annoying buzzing sound I hear is an alarm–the fire alarm!

Tags and howdies to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @fatalfangirl,

@melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean,

@raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz,

@krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost, @mooncello,

@shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart, @theearlgreymage, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife,

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @facewithoutheart, @thewholelemon, @skeedelvee, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

@messofthejess, @best--dress, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii, @hushed-chorus,

@rimeswithpurple, @blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla, @letraspal, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,

@wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @emeryhall, @larkral, @youarenevertooold,

@j-nipper-95, @ebbpettier, and @argumentativeantitheticalg

#co/ws/awtwb #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #simon snow series #carry on through the ages #carry on reverse bang #cotta 2023 #carry on big bang

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luxerians · 8 hours ago

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The Last Mask (04)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 04 - Player 001

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 05

PREV : Chapter 03

After the voting, the guards began distributing lunchboxes. You reached the front of the queue and took one from a pink-clad guard. Stepping out of the line, you noticed player 390 behind you, and the two of you headed toward a quiet corner between the bunk beds on the right side of the hall.

Player 456 was already sitting there, his eyes fixed on the floor. His meal and drink sat untouched beside him. You sighed softly at his distant demeanor.

“You two are friends, right?” you asked player 390, slowing your steps.

“Huh? Me and Gi-hun?” player 390 glanced at player 456. “Oh, yeah. His mother liked me.”

You nodded, assuming they had been friends for a long time. You asked, “Has he always been this distant and quiet?”

“Not at all,” player 390 said, shaking his head. “He was actually really cheerful. Also very loud. He used to laugh at stuff no one else thought was funny. And you know what always set him off?”

Curiosity piqued, you asked, “What?”

Player 390 grinned. “Losing at betting on horses.”

“You two used to bet on horses?”

“Well, we did,” he said with a shrug. “But three years ago, he disappeared. I couldn’t reach him, and his mom was worried sick. She was already physically sick, too. She passed away not long after he vanished.”

“Three years ago? He said he played these games at that time.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” player 390 replied. “He should’ve contacted me after winning. I really thought he was dead.”

You lowered your voice. “Well, in a way, he does seem dead yet alive right now.”

Player 390 turned to you with a small smile. “Anyway, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Jung-bae, and that is Gi-hun.”

You smiled back, giving your name in return. By then, the two of you had reached Gi-hun’s spot and sat down on either side of him.

You began unboxing your lunchbox while Jung-bae turned to his long-time friend. “Look at this lunch. It’s just like my mom used to make. What’s in yours?”

Gi-hun didn’t respond. His silence hung heavy, but Jung-bae pressed on.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Jung-bae scooped a spoonful of rice with some fried egg and held it out toward him. “Look, you’ve got to eat. You know what they say, ‘Eat up, even on your deathbed.’ Just do your thinking while you eat, or afterwards. Here.”

Still, Gi-hun ignored him. Jung-bae sighed and pulled the spoon back.

“Forget it then,” he muttered before taking the bite himself. With his mouth full, he added, “This might be for the best. I don’t know about you, but that 20 million wouldn’t even cover my interest. If we play just one more game…”

“Jung-bae,” Gi-hun finally spoke, his tone heavy. He stared solemnly at his friend. “Last time I was here, someone said the exact same thing. And in the end, that person died here.”

Jung-bae chewed quietly, his earlier enthusiasm fading. You watched the two of them, a quiet curiosity growing. What kind of experience had he gone through here? Had he lost friends? The thought that everyone he once knew in these games had died was haunting. But why is he back?

“Help us then, sir.”

The voice drew your attention. You, Jung-bae, and Gi-hun turned to see player 001 approaching your corner. Behind him were player 100 and a few others. Their presence immediately shifted the atmosphere.

“You said you’ve played these games,” commented player 001.

Gi-hun stared at him briefly before lowering his head, as if retreating into himself. You thought he might ignore them altogether until player 001 spoke again.

“I pressed the O button because of you.”

Gi-hun looked up at him, surprised. Player 001 continued, “Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think maybe I could play just one more game.”

“Me too,” another player behind him chimed in.

“Same here,” added another.

You glanced at Gi-hun and murmured, “Looks like it’s a bad idea revealing you’re a previous winner.”

Gi-hun turned to you, exhaling through his nose. “I thought it would make everyone understand… that everyone here is doomed to die as long as we stay here.”

You nodded slightly, your gaze shifting back to player 001, who was already looking at you. Feeling a bit awkward, you quickly averted your gaze and pretended not to notice.

“Sir,” player 001 said, leaning closer to Gi-hun. “You know which game’s next, don’t you?”

Several players leaned in, their curiosity evident. Even you couldn’t help but wonder. Jung-bae put down his lunchbox and turned to his friend. “You’re a previous winner, so you should know. What are we playing next?”

Gi-hun avoided eye contact, his voice low as he finally answered. “The second game was Dalgona.”

The bed beside you creaked as someone shifted on it. You glanced over to see player 388 leaning toward your corner. “Dalgona? The sugar candy with a shape you can carve out?”

“That’s right,” Gi-hun replied. “We had to choose one of four shapes and carve it out.”

“Four shapes? Which was the easiest one?” Jung-bae asked quickly.

“Triangle.”

“Which was the hardest one?” Jung-bae pressed further.

“Umbrella.”

“Umbrella?” player 001 scoffed. “Some people chose umbrella? Those unlucky bastards must have bitten the dust.”

At his words, Gi-hun stared at him silently, his expression unreadable. There was something in his gaze that felt like judgment, maybe even offense. You noticed it but chose not to dwell on it, focusing instead on your lunch.

“So that means we should all just pick triangle,” player 388 suggested. “Everyone could probably pass with that.”

“Hush now!” player 100 stepped forward, positioning himself beside player 001. “If all 365 of us survive, the prize money won’t go up at all. Then we’ll have risked our lives again for nothing.”

“That’s true,” a few players behind him agreed, nodding.

Player 100 continued, “Listen. We should probably keep this information to ourselves. What do you say?”

Player 001 stayed quiet, while others eagerly nodded their agreement. But before the discussion could settle, Gi-hun spoke up, his tone firm. “We can’t do that. I’m telling you this to save everyone’s lives.”

“And we don’t even know if the next game will really be Dalgona,” you added, scooping another spoonful of rice.

Gi-hun nodded. “That’s right. If it’s confirmed that the next game is Dalgona, I’m going to tell everyone what I know.”

Player 100 scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning and walking away. The group of players who had followed him quickly trailed behind, leaving the corner quieter and less tense. You exhaled softly, relieved to have the space back.

Player 001, however, remained. He shifted his gaze to you, Jung-bae and Gi-hun.

“So, which shape did you pick?” Jung-bae asked with a curious raise of an eyebrow.

Gi-hun looked at him deadpan, offering no response.

You chuckled softly at the exchange, drawing their attention. Their curious stares settled on you, but you feigned innocence, focusing on your lunch as if you hadn’t been following the conversation.

Still, the words slipped out.

“So, did you choose umbrella?” you asked, your tone playful.

Gi-hun turned his gaze toward you, his expression flat and unimpressed. For a moment, you thought he might actually answer, but then he looked away, ignoring the question entirely. His silence was pointed, as if he’d chosen to pretend he hadn’t heard you at all.

You and Jung-bae exchanged knowing glances, both of you stifling a grin. It wasn’t until player 001 spoke that you realized he had been watching the entire interaction.

“May I ask you something?”

All three of you – you, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae – turned your attention to him. Player 001 moved closer, sitting down on the stairs beside your group. He directed his question straight at Gi-hun.

“Why did you come back to this place?” he asked. “You said you won and made it out. Then you must have received 45.6 billion. Did you spend it all?”

Jung-bae’s eyes widened as realization seemed to hit him. He asked Gi-hun incredulously, “Did you bet on horses again?”

You side-eyed the pair, amused by Jung-bae’s immediate assumption.

Gi-hun shook his head solemnly. “That money doesn’t belong to me. It’s blood money for the people who died here. The same goes for the money up there.”

You couldn’t help but silently agree. Survival guilt had clearly taken a toll on him, and you imagined the weight of it must have been crushing.

“You don’t have to think of it that way,” player 001 said, his voice calm. Gi-hun looked at him in mild astonishment. Player 001 continued, “It’s not like you killed those people, and saving that money won’t bring them back to life.”

Gi-hun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His tone turned sharp as he replied, “If you had pressed the X, everyone here would’ve changed their mind by tomorrow. All of us would’ve made it out alive.”

Player 001 held his gaze, his expression unyielding. “That’s right. I was the last to press the O button. But there were 186 more people who wanted to stay.”

“And there were also 185 people who wanted to leave,” Gi-hun countered.

You and Jung-bae exchanged glances, sensing that neither man was willing to back down. Their differing perspectives created a palpable tension.

Player 001 broke the silence. “Let’s say I pressed X and we all got a chance to vote again tomorrow. Would everyone have been happy? Do you think a majority of O players would change their mind and thank me?”

Gi-hun’s brow furrowed deeper, his glower showing he was searching for another argument.

Before things could escalate further, Jung-bae intervened. “Enough, you two,” he said. “There’s no point in placing blame now. You know the saying. A widow understands a widower best. Let’s just focus on the game tomorrow, okay?”

He gestured toward Gi-hun and said, “He has won all these games before. If we stick together, we’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“But we can’t always rely on him,” you interjected. “He doesn’t need more pressure from everyone expecting too much from him.”

Gi-hun and player 001 both turned to you, their gazes quiet but intent.

Jung-bae nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, but he has the experience. Any advice he has will help.”

“He’s right,” another voice chimed in. The four of you turned to see player 388, who had been eavesdropping from his bed. He hopped down and stood close. “We have to stick together. I’ll be with you all the way.”

Jung-bae frowned in skepticism. “Who are you?”

The man came to a stop in front of you all and gave a quick bow. “I’m Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho.”

Dae-ho extended his hand to Jung-bae, a clear offer for a handshake. Jung-bae didn’t take it, instead replying dryly, “Oh, Dae-ho. Have we met?”

Dae-ho’s expression faltered briefly before he glanced at player 001, who kept his head low, and then at Gi-hun, who looked at him with indifference. Finally, his gaze landed on you. Seeing no skepticism in your expression, he extended his hand toward you.

You blinked in surprise but took his hand. He clasped yours in both of his, nodding gratefully as you introduced yourself. You could feel the others watching the interaction closely. After a moment, he let go of your hand, looking slightly more at ease.

“Earlier during the game, Mr. 456 here was like,” Dae-ho began, pausing to mimic Gi-hun’s urgent warning style from the first game. “Freeze! And I became his fan.”

You grinned at his enthusiasm while Gi-hun turned his gaze away, clearly embarrassed. Undeterred, Dae-ho continued eagerly, “I’d like to get to know you all better. Please give me a chance!”

Jung-bae stood suddenly as Dae-ho mimicked Gi-hun again. “Freeze! That was so cool!”

You chuckled softly, but the sound caught Gi-hun’s attention. He glanced at you with a look that felt half-judgmental before shifting his gaze elsewhere.

“Hang on,” Jung-bae said abruptly, grabbing Dae-ho’s sleeve and pulling it upward to reveal an ROKMC tattoo. Dae-ho looked at him, confused, as Jung-bae asked, “You were in the Marines?”

“Yes, why?”

“Class number?” Jung-bae countered, his tone sharp.

Dae-ho gave him a once-over before letting out a wheeze of amusement.

“Oh, you’re laughing?” Jung-bae challenged, unzipping his jacket and pulling up his sleeve. He revealed the same ROKMC tattoo on his forearm.

Dae-ho’s amusement vanished. He stepped back, clearly caught off guard, as Jung-bae stood tall, even combing his hair back dramatically with his fingers.

Suddenly, Dae-ho snapped into a salute, raising his voice. “Victory at all costs! I was in Class 1140, sir!”

Jung-bae saluted back, his grin wide. “At ease! ‘Dae-ho.’ I knew there was something about you.”

The sudden burst of military camaraderie caught you off guard. Are they really going all military here? Their loud banter is starting to draw attention to your corner.

“Do Marines get tattoos like that?” you asked to no one in particular, genuinely curious.

Player 001, who had been observing quietly, spoke up. “It’s not officially required. But for many in the ROKMC, getting the tattoo is a tradition.”

You nodded your head in understanding. “Oh.”

Dae-ho, still stiff in his stance, screamed, “Yes, sir!”

Jung-bae laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Class 746 here. Let’s make a good team.”

“I won’t let you down, sir!” Dae-ho barked back, standing straighter.

Jung-bae guffawed, patting him on the shoulder again, earning another resounding “yes, sir!” from Dae-ho. The exchange repeated a few more times, each louder than the last. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the spectacle, while Gi-hun watched them with an expression that screamed secondhand embarrassment.

You turned away from the comedic display of Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who seemed more like overenthusiastic military recruits than grown men, and began cleaning up your lunchbox. As you took a sip from your water bottle, you noticed player 001 shifting slightly in his seat nearby.

Lowering the bottle, you glanced over and asked casually, “Have you eaten already?”

Player 001 looked at you for a moment before a warm smile crossed his face. “Yes, I have.”

You nodded, returning his smile. “Good. The food they prepared for us was worth it. It’s a waste not to eat it.”

Turning toward Gi-hun, you pointedly glanced at his untouched lunchbox. “You need to eat, sir. It’s better to mull things over with a full stomach.”

Gi-hun hesitated, meeting your gaze briefly before nodding. He opened his lunchbox without a word and began to eat.

After a brief pause, you leaned slightly closer to player 001, lowering your voice. “By the way, do you know where the ladies’ restroom is?”

Player 001 gestured toward the door on the right side of the main double doors. “That one there. The other door is for the men.”

“Oh, thanks. Wouldn’t want to get lost and get shot by the guards.”

Player 001’s smile widened. “I’m sure the guards would bring you back here if you are lost.”

You chuckled softly. “That’s comforting to know.”

The exchange put you slightly more at ease, but player 001’s expression soon turned contemplative. “If you don’t mind me asking… why did you come here?”

Your smile faltered for a moment, and you caught Gi-hun turning his head just slightly, clearly eavesdropping. Straightening your posture, you replied with a practiced smile, “I needed the money.”

Player 001 nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “That’s all of us. But if I may say… I’m surprised. A lady like you shouldn’t have to bear the burden of crippling debt.”

You looked away, lowering your gaze to the floor. The practiced calm you had maintained slipped, replaced by a somber expression as his words hit a nerve.

Noticing your change in demeanor, player 001 spoke gently. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

You shook your head and managed a faint smile.

“It’s fine,” you replied softly. Your gaze stayed on the floor as you added, “The debts are my parents’, actually.”

Player 001 stared at you, his smile fading into something more solemn. Gi-hun, who had been eavesdropping, remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“You motherfucker!”

The shout shattered the quiet, pulling your attention to the other side of the dormitory. A commotion had broken out. MG Coin (player 333) was brawling on the floor with Thanos and his friend (player 124).

With player 124’s help, Thanos delivered a hard punch to player 333. Even as player 333 lay injured on the floor, they didn’t stop. Kicks rained down on him mercilessly while gasps of horror rippled through the watching crowd.

“I lost all that money because of you, fucker,” Thanos snarled, punctuating his words with another vicious kick. “Be grateful and fucking eat what you’re given!”

Despite the violence, no one moved. Players stayed rooted in place, their expressions a mix of fear and disgust. Jung-bae and Dae-ho, sleeves still rolled up with their tattoos visible, simply watched, making no move to intervene.

You sighed in frustration. “Good thing I finished eating. Still, ganging up on him is just unfair.”

Before you could consider stepping in, player 001 stood up. He walked past Jung-bae and Dae-ho with measured steps, heading straight toward the chaos. You rose from your seat instinctively, a mix of concern and suspense building. Gi-hun stood as well, his eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold.

“Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime?” player 001’s voice carried as he approached Thanos and player 124. “No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners.”

Thanos and player 124 paused, letting go of player 333. They turned toward player 001, whose calm demeanor seemed to unnerve them. “And two against one? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Thanos sneered and stepped closer, his posture challenging. “You’re lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too? Uncle, stop running your mouth and take care of your own damn kids.”

The dormitory fell silent as everyone watched. Player 001 silently asked, “What did you say?”

Thanos leaned in, his tone mocking. “I said save the lecture for your own damn kid—”

Player 001’s hand shot out, gripping Thanos by the neck. The hold wasn’t a full choke, but his thumb pressed into a precise spot that made Thanos stiffen immediately. The calculated grip made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. And it looked painful.

Thanos’ hands clawed at player 001’s arm, but the older man’s hold didn’t waver. His bravado crumbled under the pressure of the unyielding grip.

Player 124 advanced toward them. “You son of a—”

Before he could finish, player 001 swiftly kicked his shin. Player 124 let out a brief scream, immediately grasping his leg in pain. Without missing a beat, player 001 delivered another kick, sending him sprawling to the floor, clutching his injured shin. The speed of it all left several players gasping in shock.

Player 001 released Thanos’ neck, standing still in the same spot, his posture calm and steady. It was a stark contrast to Thanos and his friend who were already heaving in pain, struggling to recover.

Just as you thought it was over, Thanos stubbornly got up and advanced toward player 001 again. Raising his arm for a punch, he barely got the chance before player 001 landed a precise blow to his chest in the blink of an eye. Thanos doubled over, clutching his chest in visible pain.

“Wait,” Thanos choked out, holding up a hand in surrender.

Player 001, unfazed, grabbed Thanos’ outstretched hand and twisted it. With a calculated move, he brought Thanos down to the floor and delivered two sharp kicks to his chest, sending him sprawling.

Before Thanos could fully process what was happening, player 001 stood over him, gripping his neck once again. His free hand rose, forming a fist poised to strike. The dormitory’s atmosphere turned chillingly tense as everyone held their breath.

“I’m sorry,” Thanos choked out, his voice barely audible.

Player 001’s face remained emotionless, cold and detached. His grip tightened momentarily, making Thanos gasp for air. His purple hair seemed to match the growing discoloration of his face as the players around them watched in stunned silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, player 001 let him go. Calmly, he stood up as if nothing had happened. A smattering of applause broke out, quickly growing into full-on clapping and cheers.

“You’re the man!”

“Nice!”

You joined in, clapping in genuine awe of his combat prowess. He had taken down two bullies without breaking a sweat. What is he, really? He must be an expert at something combat-related.

Player 001 looked surprised by the positive reaction. With a small, appreciative nod and a faint smile, he smoothed his hair, clearly a bit embarrassed and shy by the attention.

As he walked back toward your corner, where you and the others were still clapping, Jung-bae leaned over. “What is he?”

“Is he an ex-Marine too?” Dae-ho asked.

You smirked and pointedly remarked, “If he is, you two might want to roll your sleeves down. He actually stopped the bullies, not the tattoos.”

Jung-bae and Dae-ho exchanged sheepish glances before simultaneously fixing their sleeves. They continued clapping enthusiastically for player 001, pretending they hadn’t been called out.

Player 001 returned to your corner, his calm demeanor intact despite the tension moments ago. You, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho couldn’t help but look at him with a mix of amazement and curiosity.

“Sir, that was incredible,” Jung-bae said, his voice tinged with admiration. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Dae-ho chimed in, “Seriously, the way you took them down without even breaking a sweat. Are you some kind of martial artist or what?”

Player 001 gave a wide smile. “Let’s just say I’ve picked up a thing or two along the way.”

Jung-bae exchanged a look with Dae-ho, both nodding as if they had just decided player 001 was the coolest person they’d ever met.

“Man of mystery,” Dae-ho muttered appreciatively.

You leaned forward slightly, your gentle tone more concerned. “But you’re not hurt at all, right? You seemed upset.”

Player 001 turned to you and his smile softened. “Not at all. I left and came back the same.”

His composed response only added to the awe emanating from Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who continued to marvel at him. The brief chaos from earlier now felt like a distant memory.

You couldn’t help but grin as you turned to player 001. “You know, I just told them to roll their sleeves down because you were the one who stopped the bullies, not those tattoos.”

Player 001 let out a steady laugh, the sound warm and disarming. Jung-bae and Dae-ho immediately looked embarrassed, glancing at each other before quickly shifting their attention elsewhere.

“Hey, the tattoos still count for something,” Jung-bae muttered, rolling his sleeve back up halfway just to save face.

“Sure they do,” you replied, still smiling as Dae-ho tried to look nonchalant.

The four of you sat back down at the corner. Gi-hun, who had stayed quiet throughout the commotion, gave player 001 a subtle nod of acknowledgment. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a truce of sorts after their earlier disagreement.

Dae-ho, ever the chatterbox, broke the quiet. “So, Mr. 001, you’ve got to teach us some of those moves. What was that neck grip thing? Looked like something out of a spy movie.”

Player 001 gave a faint smile, shaking his head. “It’s just a simple technique. Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy?” Jung-bae scoffed. “You had that guy gasping for air and looking like he was about to cry. If that’s simple, I’d hate to see complicated.”

“I want to learn how to do that too,” you added. “It would be useful to protect myself out there.”

Player 001 replied with a widening smile. “Sure, I could teach you. We just have to focus on winning the next game and leave this place for good. I’ll teach once we’re out of here.”

“Sir, don’t forget about me though,” said Dae-ho. “I want to learn that too.”

Jung-bae chimed in, “Me too.”

Player 001 nodded, “Got it. I’ll teach you three, then.”

The conversation drifted into lighter topics, with Dae-ho recounting an overly dramatic story from his military days that had Jung-bae laughing and shaking his head. Gi-hun stayed mostly quiet, his focus shifting between the group and the room at large.

NEXT : Chapter 05

PREV : Chapter 03

Story Masterlist

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#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho fanfic #in ho #the front man #player 001 #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 days ago

Note

Please.. Matthias smut, i’m starving there’s barely any content for him… I need him sexually pent up and sloppy ☝️😔

Heres so an unposted smut of him these are old

Rated: Mature | Warnings: reader is a simp for him and writer, jackmatt

Morning sex is rare especially when Matthias initiates it; between the two of you, you have the higher libido, and thus the one initiating— Matthias does not mind, given you are also willing to give a show when he is busy and pretending to be disinterested.

However, today he was very much in the mood the second he got you to wake up, his hands clingy and you far too eager to open your legs to him.

Most of the morning was spent between bedsheets constantly chasing ecstasy.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Asking after a nap and cleaning up.

“About what?” He is at his desk fixing up a wooden miniature basic puppet.

“This morning!” Wrapping your arms around his neck as you rest your chin on top of his head, “You were frantic.”

Mathias is quiet, “You noticed?” Stopping his tinkering, “I just felt the need is all.” Frowning then sighing, “I had a… dream.”

“Oh!?” Moving to sit on the bed when he turns his chair to face it.

“... You can't… Judge me.” Shy, “It was about the last match yesterday.”

You nod showing you are listening, “With Jack?”

“With Jack.” Going quiet as he looks conflicted to talk more.

“I once dreamt of a threesome with Orpheus and you.”

“What!?” Taken aback by your words.

You simply shrug, “I mean it's natural to dream about things. Sometimes naughty dreams too,” Leaning forward, “Fool’s Gold was my first one.” Whispering to him a dirty secret.

“What makes you think it was anything naughty? I could just say I was dreaming about the match—”

“Matthias,” Cutting him off, “You literally fucked me all morning. I'm sure you had a naughty dream about Jack.” Then you grin, “Was he hot?”

Matthias groans as he leans back against the chair with his hands covering his eyes, “Damn it… Yeah, that stupid rose one.”

“Yeah, that will do it.” Nodding your head sagely, “Hehe, congrats on the wet dream!”

“Please, must you tease?!” He pouted as he put his arms down and sat normally.

You move forward standing then bending over to kiss his cheek.

-----

The stack of papers is neat and bound together with a ribbon with a note on top: “Read only when I am busy and you are alone” with a heart drawing next to it.

It's one of your weird gifts again. It is as if all of your gifts are not put away safely as he treasures them. The Puppeteer sighs sitting on his bed as he looks through the stack of papers.

The title page Ink and Strings, you and your writings always have some creative title… The first actual page right away tells everything about this story you left for him.

The desk shifts with each thrust, the laboring breaths, and lips everywhere they can each before meeting. There I took all that I could. My body is aching for release but I am greedy, and wanting, and so is he.

Matthias reads on then stops when he sees…

Orpheus moves to accommodate. Matthias keeps me on the desk, caring for my comfort over caring if Orpheus can use my mouth. I know he would–

This is your dream! Written just for him to read and get off on if he wishes— He really hates how his cock is reacting to the details of your story, of the emotions clearly of love for him and lust for Orpheus. You only kiss Matthias, you only seek comfort in Matthias, and your needy begs are for Matthias. The rest, the lust is for Orpheus as if he is only there to indulge in curiosity.

Matthias uses his bare hand to get himself off, reading the story you wrote with laboring breaths.

-----

“This has to be inappropriate using your talents…” The Puppeteer says while on bed, sitting on bed with only his underlings on. His eyes looked to the side and down at the dark sheets. You giggle as he is clearly shy about this.

“I don't think so,” As you prepare your stack of fresh blank papers and pen in hand, “You are being my editor!” Pointing it out as if this is normal to do.

“No editor touches themselves to the piece they are editing.”

“Oh, Matthias, if my editor is not enthralled by my writing then I failed in capturing the essence of the scene.”

Matthias rolls his eyes, “Whatever.” He then looks at you, “So?”

“The chill of the snow map sends a shiver down your spine,” You say while writing, “Or perhaps it is the anticipation of danger as you rush off to find a cipher.” Your lover listens to your words to set up the fantasy, “The fog barely misses its target but it does. Giving time you vault through a window to escape out of the shack.”

Matthias leans back, closing his eyes picturing your words.

“Like a butterfly caught in the spider's web, he has you.” You hum then nod to yourself agreeing with that description, “Tall, menacing, the threat is right there,” Matthias frowns as knows that feeling, “One strike and you will be down on the ground painting the white snow red with your blood.” You stop then go on, “Yet, the strike never comes, the claws of his viciousness with twisted skill to cut and slice. His other hand grabs you, pinning you against the cold outer wall of the factory.”

Matthias shifts as you paint the picture with your words of a scenario he told you about. A dream that caused him to seek you out in the morning.

“His laugh is rich, gleeful as you do not fight back,” Matthias bites his lip, “Docile as you allow him to cut the fabric of your pants. The bit of the skin on your ass cut enough to bleed, you hiss in pain delighting him.”

“(Name).”

“Shh, we are getting to the good part!”

Matthias hates himself for getting hard, with each word creating this fuck up willing situation. To be taken by the sadistic hunter Jack. Worse is how you write, speaking it out, in character.

“You fear he going to rip you apart with how big his cock is,”

“Ah, ah.” Panting as he palms himself through his underlings.

“Oh, you feel each burning push of the monster's cock. Blood and spit do little as lube, not like he cares— And he knows you don't either as you push back. A harlot, he calls you with his heavy British accent.”

“Shut up.” As if replying to the Ripper.

“He laughs before impaling you completely. His clawed hand slams against the wall while his other hand grips your waist. Bruises will form later, a reminder of this deed.”

Matthias by now has pulled out his cock, fisting his cock as he is getting off this.

#idv #anon ask #identity v x reader #reader insert #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv x you #matthias czernin #matthias czernin x you #matthias czernin x reader #puppeteer x you #puppeteer x reader #identity v puppeteer #idv puppeteer #puppeteer

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creepycranberry · 3 days ago

Text

Big Black Car- 2

Rafe Cameron X Maybank!Reader

Warnings: slow burn, L*ke, topper is very much noncanon compliant (he’s like a mix of topper and Austin’s character in IDDI), alcohol, abuse, parental death, not proofread, kook/pogue bullshit, swearing, w*rd, let me know about anything else.

Extra TW for violence and abuse in this chapter

____________

Luke’s working at the garage today, so you’re cleaning the house and restocking the fridge.

He can pay for his beer, you’re not even touching that shit, but you pay for most everything else. The only thing he really covers is his drinking habit, the utility bill and sometimes necessary maintenance.

Other than that his money is his money and your money is y’all’s money.

You’re cleaning the ceiling fan when a loud knock at the door makes you jump and almost fall off of your step stool.

You open the door only to be faced with your father, who looks to be fuming.

“Why the hell weren’t you at work Saturday?

“I took a day off, why does it matter to you?” You say, backing up a little.

“We need that money, kid!”

“Well maybe if you wouldn’t spend all of your fucking money on alcohol and actually paid attention to your responsibilities instead of being blacked the fuck out all the time We would h-“

Your head is turned by blunt force and your eyes water as your cheeks sting.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that you ungrateful bitch!” He yells and you flinch.

“What do I have to be ungrateful for that I'm not providing for myself?” You retort.

This time you see it coming, moving at the last second to deliver A swift punch to his jaw.

He recovers fast and sends a swift punch to your stomach that knocks the air out of your lungs. And then you’re on the floor when you’re met with a boot to the face

“You fucking bastard! I work so hard for you and you’re not even my fucking daughter you entitled bitch!” He yells, making his way down the hall to your room.

Your room is nothing special, just your bed, a dresser, and a few boxes with stuff in them.

He grabs a box and walks towards the front door, throwing the box in the yard.

“Dad, what are you doing?” You yell, holding your T-shirt over your nose.

“You’re nineteen, find your own damned place to live! Quit mooching off of me you shithead.”

He goes for another box but you close the bedroom door, locking it as he yells from the other side, you grab a large tote bag and shove whatever clothes you can into it before stacking the boxes.

You wait until you can’t hear Luke screaming anymore.

You can’t breathe because of your nose, which isn’t bleeding as heavily anymore, but is still bleeding plenty, and you have a killer headache.

Your shoulder and stomach ache, your cheek stings and it hurts to move your jaw too much.

All of the pain hits you at once and you take a deep breath before attempting to stand, you grab all of your stuff slowly and quickly make your way out to your car, shoving all of the boxes in the back, including the one Luke threw into the yard.

You’re on your way to the Carreras when you see Rafe, walking down the street while you’re stuck at a stop light.

You’ve seen him once since Saturday and he barely acknowledged you.

He doesn’t see you at first and you look away in hopes that will make him less likely to see you at all but it doesn’t. Instead when he sees you his eyebrows lift in surprise and then go back down in what almost looks like concern.

You just keep driving.

when you get to the Carreras Topper is already sitting on the porch, waiting for you.

“Maybank! what the hell happened to you?” He asks, standing up and holding your face still to get a good look, avoiding the bruised areas.

“My dad-” you just start crying.

It’s embarrassing, and it makes your stomach hurt even more but you can’t help it.

Topper rests his hands on your hip and you hiss in pain, practically jumping out of his reach.

Topper moves your shirt up to reveal a big bruise on your ribs.

“This fucking…” Topper trails off and wipes the tears from your face, “it’s gonna be alright. Okay, you tell me when you can, for right now just tell me where it hurts and we’ll get you fixed up. Alright?”

You nod and he leads you to the front door, you fumble with the key for a moment before he takes it from you.

You look around as he unlocks the door and for a split second you see Rafe in the Passenger seat of Topper's car.

You’re shaking, you're not sure when you started shaking but as topper leads you to the couch you look down at your shirt to see the blood and remember that your face and clothes are probably covered in blood.

Topper crouches in front of you, taking in your messy appearance.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks again.

“My uh, my nose,”

“Yeah, no shit.” He smiles.

You return his smile and begin to point to where you can feel the pain.

Topper goes to the freezer and looks for anything to act like an ice pack.

He comes back with a few packages of frozen vegetables. He helps you lie down on the couch before placing the ice packs in their respective areas.

“Where’s the first aid kit here?” He asks and you tell him before you hear your phone ringing.

When you answer it you hear Mr. Carreras voice.

“Hey, Is everything alright? We just got an alert from the security company-“

“Crap, the alarm. Uh, everything is fine I just, I’m in a bit of pain right now and I was kind of just focused on getting an ice pack. I’ll put in the code really quick though.”

“Alright sweetie, call us if you need something.”

You say goodbye and hang up the phone, ignoring the pain in your stomach as you attempt to stand.

“What the hell are you doing?” A low voice at the door asks and you look up to see rafe, leaning against the door frame.

“We set off the security alarm, I have to put in the code to-“

“What’s the code?”

“I’ve gotta do it, Mrs-”

“Maybank, what’s the code?” He says it slow, punctuating each word lightly.

“I’m not giving you the security code to someone else’s house.”

“just give me the damned code and then sit on that damned couch with your ice packs. Alright?”

You cautiously stare at him for a moment before sitting on the couch and putting a package of frozen peaches to your cheek and nose, “102004.”

“Thanks, peaches.” He comments sarcastically and puts the code into the small keypad by the door.

You don’t say anything.

Topper comes back down the stairs with a first aid kit, and a new shirt from your bag.

He looks from you to Rafe and then back again, “everything okay in here?”

“Everything’s fine, Top.” Rafe says, sitting on the other end of the couch.

Topper cleans the blood from your face and neck, then puts a bandage on your nose and hands you back the bag of frozen peaches.

“Um, I need you to take your uh-” Topper stutters. Topper was big on boundaries with you, always being extra careful about your comfortability, even when it was inconvenient.

“He needs you to strip so he can check out the injuries on your torso.” Rafe says, point blank.

Topper gives him a “what the fuck, man?” Look but you just take off your shirt, revealing a black sports bra and a big ass bruise over the right side of your rib cage.

“Jesus, what did that sick son of a bitch do to you?” Rafe exclaims and Topper gives him a look again.

“Took out his anger on me and then kicked me out. Used the whole ‘You're not my daughter anyway’ card and then threw my stuff out into the yard.” You shrug, “it’s fine though, let’s see him try and pay for all his bills and groceries on his own.”

Rafe and Topper go quiet.

“You’re not his daughter?” Rafe asks after a minute.

“Legally I am, not biologically though.” You shrug.

“Whose kid are you then?”

“Joel Morgan.”

“Wasn’t he a Kook though?” Rafe asks and you nod.

“He decided to slum it with my mom at some point. I ended up coming along, but my mom was with JJ’s dad by that point. So he raised me for the first few years of my life, and then he died, I got sent to live with JJs dad, my mom was long gone by then and now here we are.” You explain, giving him the short version.

“And that’s why you went to our school?” Rafe asks and You nod, “wait but wouldn’t he have left like a trust to you or something?”

“He did. had an account to pay for all my schooling too. Only problem is I don’t get access to that trust or my inheritance until I’m twenty five, so until then I’m stuck doing this all on my own.”

The boys stay quiet, topper makes sure that your ribs aren’t broken or anything.

“Well you look alright, just keep ice on them and after your done house sitting if you need a place to stay, my place is always there, my parents love you I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have you-“

“Thanks Topper, but I can deal with it on my own. I have enough saved that four months worth of pay should be able to cover a small apartment. Probably on the cut, in the projects but it’d be better than nothing and definitely better than mooching off of you I-“

“You wouldn’t be mooching-“

“I don’t want to be a burden or cause problems, Topper. I can make it just fine on my own until my trust kicks in.”

“Fine but if you ever need anything, I’d be more than happy to help you.”

You just nod, “thanks for the help.”

“Anytime.”

•~•~•~•~•~

The Carreras get home today so You’re cleaning up again, restocking the fridge, and then changing into work clothes.

You take orders at the counter, sending them off to the kitchen and then handing them out to customers, along with ringing in to-go orders.

You're working a double shift today, trying to make up for the Saturday you missed.

“Hello! Waitress! Could I get a- what the hell happened to you?”

“I don’t think we have that on the menu JJ. Could I get you anything else?”

“Okay, what the fuck?” JJ exclaims, getting up off his stool and going behind the bar, despite the other servers protests, “what happened?”

“Luke kicked me out.” You shrug.

You haven’t seen JJ in the last week or so, he’s been at John B’s, avoiding our father as per usual.

“What?”

“Mhm. I have to figure out a place to stay by the end of the day.”

“Just stay with John B like I am.” JJ shrugs.

“John B is helping us out enough.” You shake your head, refilling a napkin container.

“Well then where will you go? You’re too stubborn to let anyone give you handouts.”

“I’ll figure it out, now, do you need anything to eat? When was the last time you drank some water? You better not just be drinking beer over there.”

“Geez, chill Hermana, me and John B are just fine. You worry about yourself for once. Got it?”

“Sure, fine, whatever.”

“I will take an order of fries though.” You sigh and give him a look before turning around to give the order to the kitchen, “thank you, I love you, you’re the best, extra ketchup please.”

•••

You’re napping in your car after work when violent tapping on the car window wakes you up. You jump and reach into the passenger seat for your keys before realizing that it’s just Topper.

“The Carreras are back.” He says.

“And the sun is up.” You respond, rubbing your eyes.

“Where are you staying?”

“Don’t w-“

“Cause I’m not gonna just let you live in your car. Stop being stubborn and come stay at my place.”

“Topper, it’s kind of you to offer but I really can’t.” You insist, tired of having the same argument with him over and over.

“Just take the fucking offer.” You hear a rough voice behind topper say.

“Rafe I’m not gonna take a handout-“

“It isn’t a handout. It’s a friend looking out for a friend. Fucking hell, just let him do something for you for once. I’m sick of listening to him complain and I’m sick of listening to you two having the same argument over and over. Goddamnit.” Rafe exclaims and you mull it over.

“I’ll pay rent.”

“My parents won’t let you. At most they’ll let you pay for your own necessities but that’s it.” Topper says and you sigh.

“Fine.”

“Fucking finally.” Rafe exclaims and Topper glares at him. You can’t help but laugh a little, which causes Topper to glare at you.

When you look back to Rafe his face is set in a relaxed expression, he’s beginning to look weirdly comfortable when you see him now.

“Need a ride home?” You offer to the both of them and Topper opens the passenger door and Rafe Huffs as he takes residence in the back seat.

When you get to Toppers house his mom is in the front, standing to her flower beds. They were the one things she didn’t let her staff handle.

When you get out of your car she begins to smile before her expression turns to concerned. She turns her attention to her son, “what happened to her?”

“Not my story to tell but she has no where else to stay so I-“

“She's staying here.” His mother says, meeting your eyes. It’s not a question, it’s an order to you.

Topper's mothers family was close with your fathers. You and Topper had known each other at a young age. After your father died and you moved to Luke’s you only saw each other at school. And for a few years that was it, and then Topper turned fourteen and his parents no longer required him to stay closer to their home and he would pick you up from your house on weekends while JJ was at John B’s. You would ride on the pegs on his bike wheels down to the marina and the two of you would hang out until he would have to take you back home.

His mother hated Luke, not just because he was a pogue but because she didn’t think he was fit to be a father. She was wrong for a while and then she wasn’t.

“Yes ma'am.” You smile and she nods.

“Show her to the guest room.” She says, returning her attention to her flower beds and effectively dismissing the three of you.

Topper leads the way and Rafe follows closely behind you. You reach the room next door to Toppers and he opens the door, setting one of your boxes on the floor by the bed.

“This is where you’ll be living, our bathroom is connected, we can go grab toiletries later if you need, towels are in the cabinet above the toilet, toilet paper is under the sink etcetera, etcetera.” Topper smiles and you stand in the middle of the room awkwardly, “you okay?”

“Yeah I uh, it’s just new.”

Topper nods and leads you through the bathroom to his room. You had spent some amount of time here in middle school. You would come over and rant to Topper about work shit, ignoring him when he offered you money.

Topper flops onto the bed and you sit in the desk chair, spinning around. Rafe sits on the bench at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on your nose.

“Does it still hurt?” He asks you.

His sincerity almost shocks you, “only when I remember it’s there.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

“It was polite of you to ask.” You offer him and he nods before training his eyes on the floor.

“What did Mr. Carrera say?” Topper breaks the silence.

“He uh- he didn’t really say anything to me about it. He slipped a hundred into my tips though.” You smile as best you can, “he did tell Kie to ask JJ about it though.”

“He hates JJ.” Top comments.

“That doesn’t really matter when it comes to JJ or me actually surviving.”

“I think Mom will probably kill him if she sees him around.” Topper smiles and you nod.

“Seems like a safe bet.”

Rafe looks severely uncomfortable when he speaks next, “I’m kinda bored. I might just head out.” It’s directed at Topper but he’s looking at you.

“You sure, man?” Top asks and rafe nods.

“Yeah, wheezies been having a hard time in her English class and dad and Rose are out of town so I’ll probably have to help her with that.” He says, getting up and heading for the door, stopping to turn to you, “I’ll have Sarah let JJ know where you’re at.”

“Thank you, Rafe.”

“No problem, peaches” he says as he heads down the hall.

“I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”

#rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader fluff #rafe cameron x reader series

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