#like there's nothing wrong with them and i am making it all up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zyafics-recs · 24 hours ago

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reblogging comment review from @zyafics

too obsessed with this series to stop (i also think it's so hilarious this started as a oneshot request 😭) ur brain just couldn't stop ⬇️

It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

GIGI WROTE HER FOR ME

There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

god i love ur writing i swear this fic gets better with a new update

“They chew up people like you.” “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

oooo reader 1: rafe 0 she ate him up

"Change of plans."Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

why was this so clever (also rafe's obsession w locking people in rooms 😭)

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time.

i honestly would've sat in my room n draw or smth

Were you getting mugged?

with no money 😭

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

hes so kinky (do it)

“Show me.”“Uh?”He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

i just realized why ur writing is so magnetic; it's because u write almost like a screenplay, like i can visually see all of ur scenes played out on a show or a movie or something; especially your dialogues like it belongs in hollywood

“Atta girl.”

pls sir, just one chance 🛐

“They’re about you.”"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."Your brows pulled together, “What is?”He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

oh my GODDDD

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right.

im giggling so hard rn

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

he's so whiny i love him

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

i'm so quiet during this smut scene bc im enjoying it too much

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

he's so hot ohmyfuckinggod

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

back to our regular scheduled program: emotions

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."“But it’s wrong.”“I know, pretty.”

they r so enemies to lovers u did this so well

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”“Promise?”He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.“Promise.”

i love them so much i could cry

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | god this smut scene was TOO good i gotta say ur best work to DATE 🤭 okay, okay, but onto the real business. i think what i love about this part (i think this has to be my favorite part by far) is that, like i said, ur writing plays out like a movie. the way you describe things with such beautiful prose and the way their dialogues bounce off each other. i always compliment your dialogues because it's so true, i am in absolute love with the way it feels so rich and organic and unpredictable (not in a bad way). like there's a conventional storytelling to certain scenes/dialogues but you always manage to surpass expectations and make it innovative and engaging! i fucking love how you build the intimacy through rafe and reader through touch and little acts where you have to read between the lines to understand. and when i get them? 🫠 reader is so independent and stands on her own shit which i love and it reminds me a little too much like me (who said that) but overall, for this specific part, i was obsessed with their banter during the gun scene, and during the smut (of course) but just truly, the way you WRITE it's so so incredible. i'm trying to find better words to explain myself. i love how rafe was yearning for her so badly during the smut, but he backed off bc she said so, and kept asking for clarity and she gave it. it gave me butterflies fr (u saw how quiet i was during that whole scene i barely annotated) and i love the way he kept praising her (blushing fr 🥰) because ur dirty talk is TOP TIER!!! and lastly lastly, the way their fears is embedded in things changing and how they have to confront this new reality of them falling for each other 💘

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

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

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin. With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself. While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages. You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into this situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible. It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group. Kie, Pope, John B…They weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a delicate balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence. You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in a turbulent life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst. It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity. While others your age worried about trivial matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without.

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending storm in his eyes. You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it.

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, and for a moment, he looked like he might’ve backed down. But then his expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," he said, his tone condescending. "You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too,” you said, your voice low and steady. "And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

The defiance in your fixed look mirrored his own stubbornness. Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair.

“They chew up people like you.”

“I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that. For a moment it looked like he might’ve argued. And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty.

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, fury and panic mixing in your chest. "Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no response from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing. He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different. Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning.

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, its frame sturdy and dependable.

That’s it! You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances. Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building, the ground looming ever closer with each passing moment.

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel.

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, your voice urgent, “It’s important.”

After a moment of hesitation, he relented, quickly scribbling down an address on a piece of paper and thrusting it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand, a feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline surging in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shout, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a brief moment. You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra.

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, his agitation palpable in the confined space of the alley. “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his frustration evident. “You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm, his touch firm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden shifts in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

You only gaped in disbelief. “What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, his tone firm, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at Rafe’s chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe said, nodding in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained steady, unwavering. Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, now? “I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him. You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you.

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded, his voice softening slightly as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck. “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go.

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, the weight of what just transpired settling heavily on your shoulders, as you and Rafe sat in silence, the events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly; his expression unreadable. "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“Hey, look at me,” he said, voice weirdly soft, “We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere. There were more important matters at hand.

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives.

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream. You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you.

And then there was Rafe. The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully.

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to constantly surround him.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t. You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you.

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?"

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh.

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you. It was a lot to process, the realization that you had become a part of his nightmares, a constant haunting presence in his thoughts. Rafe’s fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and a rush of memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you.

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But as it lingered, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, like a balm soothing an old wound. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin.

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it.

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up. It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears.

Once again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions coursing between you. Guilt, fear, desire, all intertwined in a tumultuous dance within your heart.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you felt deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. And you melted into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead. All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe.

But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the beating of your heart.

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering like a promise of things left unsaid.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee. When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating.

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead. Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.”

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security.

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making.

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Rafe's hand tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again, “Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him, face twisting into confusion.

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you shifted, turning onto your side to face away from him.

Rafe moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like a shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin.

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your pulse quickened, and your skin tingled. An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you shifted again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with purpose, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head. Rafe's response was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you. The uncertainty, the fear, and the desire all came down together in a chaotic swirl. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted. You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire coursing through your veins.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit. You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss. You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts blurring as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Rafe's breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised, his voice a rough whisper. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your core. Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he gently withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky and all rough against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven. The friction was maddening, each movement sending volumes of satisfaction through you.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he struggled for control. “You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much to bear. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in. His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again rapidly. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so close. His hand on your clit moved in time with his hips, each touch sending you spiraling higher.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan in response, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him.

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You trying to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix. Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn of desire ignited into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole. The taste of him filled your mouth, a heady mixture of the cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours. The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Cum for me, pretty,” he urged his voice rough and filled with need. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took. With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe and desire, his hands never leaving your body, grounding you through your orgasm. As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips soft and tender. He murmured soothing words, his voice a sexy whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own racing pulse, a reminder of the connection between you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth.

But as the waves subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, "I want to feel you cum inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass, "Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open, dark and intense as he watched your reaction. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel you cum."

The pet name did it. His response was immediate. With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he drove into you with a powerful thrust. His pace was relentless, his movements fueled by a desperate need to reach his release. His face was a mask of intense concentration, his jaw clenched as he pounded into you. The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, creating a symphony of raw passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Cum for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising. And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. your own body still buzzing with the aftermath of your pleasure. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that rendered you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his touch kind and reverent.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Rafe's lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss a stark contrast to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but the dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed his voice a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the gentle strength of his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you didn’t feel so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else. He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up fear and anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in a gesture of reassurance. "I know, Maybank," he whispered, his voice steady and unwavering. "I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?" you asked, almost in disbelief.

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. The comfort of his embrace, his steady presence, was grounding you. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you strength. After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

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

761 notes · View notes

luvismenu · 18 hours ago

Text

Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist

Chapter 02 — distraction ✎

fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’

wc: 6k

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28

abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!

“i have to go.”

“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”

you sigh.

“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.

“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.

you roll your eyes.

“i really have to go.”

“___, just listen to—”

but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.

there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.

go back home?

after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.

you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.

you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’

you can’t go back now.

not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.

“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”

min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.

“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.

“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.

“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.

min yoongi; your friend.

well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.

you didn't question him about it any further.

you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.

“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”

he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"

you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.

that was close.

you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.

he’s handsome.

no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

but there’s something else,

he looks... mad?

you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.

as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.

“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.

you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.

you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.

“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.

“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.

“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”

“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.

jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”

yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”

jungkook stays silent.

instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.

“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.

and it does.

jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.

as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.

“bad day indeed.”

you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.

you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.

then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.

“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”

curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.

he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.

he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.

then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.

you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”

he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”

“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“good.”

wow. nice attitude.

just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.

“never seen you around here before.”

“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.

“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,

you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”

he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”

“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”

he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”

you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”

he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”

“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”

“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.

“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.

he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.

“same,” you respond. “during the day.”

he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”

you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."

“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.

“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”

he stays silent.

“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”

he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.

you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”

“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he’s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”

“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”

his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”

a silence stretches between you two.

“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.

you didn't expect that.

honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.

you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.

a thought crosses yourmind.

if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.

it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.

but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

because, really, why should you care?

whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.

“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.

“likewise,” you reply.

without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.

you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”

he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”

“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.

“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.

you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.

he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”

“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.

he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”

you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”

he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”

“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.

“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”

your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.

you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.

oh what the fuck.

“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”

suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.

“what?” he stares at you.

“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.

he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.

realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.

what are you even trying to say?

he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”

but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.

“so, do you want to suck on it?”

“huh?” you blink.

suck on what now?

“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.

oh.

you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.

“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.

“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.

“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.

“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.

he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so… are you gonna keep holding it?”

you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.

“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.

why do you kind of like his smile?

you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.

“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.

you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”

he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”

you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”

his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”

a pause.

there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.

he's right.

you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.

and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.

you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.

both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.

”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”

“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.

he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.

but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.

you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.

“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.

you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.

he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”

your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.

is he asking what you think he’s asking?

he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.

yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.

“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.

his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.

the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.

right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.

maybe you do need this distraction.

his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.

“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”

“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.

he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.

you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.

he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”

before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.

he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.

you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?

he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.

what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?

as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.

when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.

but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.

“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.

the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.

“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.

“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.

his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.

it's all too good.

too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.

he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.

you're so fucking wet right now.

you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.

“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”

you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.

a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.

b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.

you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.

“yours.”

the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.

the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.

“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.

you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.

“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.

“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.

you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.

“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.

your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.

“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.

“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”

you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.

instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.

“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.

he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.

his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.

“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”

he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.

“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”

his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.

you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“fuck. okay, bend over.”

without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.

he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”

a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.

you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.

each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.

“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.

his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.

your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.

“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”

“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”

“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.

his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.

“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”

“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.

“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.

he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.

you're definitely going to ask for his number.

a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fanfiction #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jjk x y/n #jungkook x y/n #fanfiction

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ari-cuno · 1 day ago

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A little drabble I wrote after some inspiration and a little break between drawing some art <3

I just wanted to experiment and see how an interaction like this would go between them. It was supposed to be angst but I couldn't help changing it a bit. >3<

Please let me know if I did the couch potato justice @zu-is-here and if there's anything else I could've done better!

“Aim…” Axel mumbled, looking as if he were ready to crumble or disappear from the anxiety in his soul. It formed a painful lump, making his words struggle to come out properly. But under all that was the undying love and trust of the man before him. In all his unconditional love there was still part of him that needed to know, it needed to know that Aim was truly there, and that he was his, no matter how murky the waters they swam in were. Of course it was a silly question though. He knew that answer well enough. Aim was his, but…was Axel himself Aim's?

“...I need you, Aim.” His voice finally managed to say. “...But I don't know if you need me.” He admitted quietly, his voice suddenly breaking.

Aim, sitting on the other side of the bed, turned to look at the distressed skeleton, offering him a look of comfort with some sort of humor attached to it. “What do ya mean? Of course I need you.” He said, sounding slightly surprised by how the shorter skeleton only seemed to look sadder at his reply.

“...No- just- ugh! You don't understand!” Axel cried out as he sat on the opposite side of the bed. “You seemed so fine before I came back to find you. Part of me wonders if I'm being selfish by asking so much of you. You don't owe me your companionship. But…but I want it, I crave it, and I crave you.” He said, looking frustrated.

“...Heh, you have no idea how nice it is having you around.” Aim said, laying back on the mattress, his arms resting above his head. That response made Axel look at him with surprise.

“If anything I probably need you more. I mean, I must've been really stuck in your head to make you come back after so long. Like a rattle in your skull?” He said in a lighthearted tone, watching Axel's face flush as he looked away.

“Hm…something like that.” Axel said quietly.

“This whole thing between us isn't bad. You've already done so much for me and-” Aim paused, noticing the little glitter from a tear that streamed down Axel's cheek. Oh no, had he said something wrong?

“You're right. You have been stuck in my head forever, and you have no idea how great it was to see you again, but…I don't want to push my feelings on you like this.” Axel said quietly, letting out a little laugh through a few sobs.

“Stars…oh stars…how are we going to make this work?” He said meekly, voice full of raw vulnerability and sorrow. His soul fluttered intensely in his chest any time he laid eyes on the man before him, couch-potato and lazy-bones aside.

“Axel, you're crying-” Aim tried, sitting up.

“Of course I am…this is never going to work!” Axel cried out, trying to wipe his tears away. “I can't even kiss you-”

“You can.” Aim replied.

“...what?” Axel said, lifting his head up to look at him, surprised by his answer. Aim looked at him with a more genuine smile. “Is that why you are so upset? Are you afraid to ask me for a hug or a kiss?” The larger skeleton asked with a little grin.

“I might not get it, but we're a team. One member just can't pull all the weight, I'm too heavy for you to be carrying all the weight of us. I can try my best for you if it will make you happy, just ask. There's nothing wrong giving back to my ‘partner’, eh?” Aim grinned, winking under his goggles.

Axel stared, the glitchy skeletons gaze was less upset, and more just shocked and moved by his words. “...you'd…you'd do that for me? Aim please…your boundaries, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.” He said gently, trying to be careful with his wording.

“Oi! I don't mind as long as you're happy by the end of it, I gotta keep the hand who feeds me happy, don't i?~”

Axel rolled his eyes, sighing. He wiped the tears from his eyes, taking in a steady breath to calm himself. “Well…” he said, moving closer to Aim, their bodies close in contact.

“...I've always wanted to see you without your goggles. The real you. I miss your beautiful eye lights. Please…let me see you.” Axel whispered, shifting his potion, sitting right in front of Aim as he reached out to the ever important goggles that hid Aim's orange eyelights.

Aim seemed to hesitate, looking unsure as Axel grabbed the edges of his goggles with care. “Heh…they really haven't changed much.” He said, struggling to keep the smile on his face. “Are you sure it's worth your time?” The larger skeleton asked.

Axel frowned, lifting his goggles above his head gently. “...I'm sure.” He said firmly, cupping Aim's face with his hands, lifting himself up and settling amongst his partner's lap. He moved his face closer to Aim's, a small smile of appreciation and adoration flashing across his face. He was warm, very warm, and the way his eyelights stared back at him caused Axel's soul to flutter intensely with delight.

He leaned it, pressing his nose against Aim's, an affection nuzzle. “...Is this okay?” He asked after a few tense moments of silence, staring into Aim's face. The other skeleton seemed quite relaxed, his eye lights faintly illuminating the space between them like a dim light, a small light compared to the blue hue spread across Axel's face.

“Of course.” Aim said calmly, “...you know, you're actually pretty light, heh.” He teased.

“Feeling better?” Aim asked for a few moments, the warmth between them being pleasant, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Axel hesitated, his hands resting on Aim's chest as he let them go from his face.

“...May I kiss you?” Axel asked, before stopping to think for a second. “-and more?” He asked with an added huskiness to his voice, his soul beating heavily against his ribcage in a flurry of emotions.

“Sure.” Aim said simply, leaning back. His simple response caught Axel off guard. Stars, did he really trust him that much? Axel looked starstruck, staring at Aim with sparkling eyes full of a swirl of positive emotions, the tears on his face long dry.

Aim noticed, looking a little concerned, “You alright-?” He questioned, before he was cut off, his words swallowed up as Axel leaned in, pressing their mouths together in a soft, delicate motion. Axel held himself there for several moments, his breath held as he made contact with Aim, a warmth spreading over him, and a warmth he missed once he pulled away.

His voice came out in a soft tone, full of emotion.

“....Everything is fine.”

#undertale au #utmv #sanscest #oc #ari writing #errorink ship child #axel #post dark cream #aim!sans #aimel #back to work! ^3^#what if #just some fun experimentation :3 #their relationship is so complicated #but they're there for each other <3 #teamwork!!

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mythalism · 2 days ago

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more me verbally processing my feelings on this game and it's story that i sent in discord but i know reading these things can be helpful to others processing so im sharing them here <3

even though i think i personally am able to find coherent meaning in solas's ending, specifically the status of the veil, and i do think its good and i like it, i really have to work to do it. the way its written is kind of confusing because the message is like ok. let go of your regrets. but you also have to atone for your mistakes. but solas believes he is atoning by taking the veil back down and bringing immortality back and making sure more spirits are not turned into demons? but the story tells us that version of atonement is Wrong, but why is it wrong? because people will die? but people also die because of the veil? mages are mass incarcerated and lobotimized bc of the veil, elves have been enslaved for millenia, PEOPLE AGE AND DIE, BECAUSE OF THE VEIL? so he isnt supposed to atone for that mistake by fixing it he's just supposed to accept it and let go? so are we supposed to atone for our mistakes or not? what determines whether or not we need to atone? he has to atone for what he did to the titans but not what he did by accident to his own people i guess? and he is going to atone by maintaining the status quo that he created because people have gotten used to it?

i think the answer based on the regret prison scene with rook escaping with varric's help and that banger line of varric's is to take accountability and own up to your choices, they are yours and no one can take them from you. rook says something to one of the regret statues (for me it was harding) thats like "i made a choice and so did you and you knew the risks" or something so i think that is the key. solas cannot accept his choices and so he is desperate to undo them no matter what kind of harm it may do. he is trapped in regret and the past to the point that he cant accept them and move forward, and varric is the perfect contrast of this with how readily he accepts his death as a consequence of his love and hope for his friend. even mythal accepts her own choices when she tells solas that she turned him from his purpose. and she doesnt apologize or even express regret at all, partly because shes a crazy bitch (affectionate) but partly because i think her quiet, cold acceptance is part of the lesson solas needs to learn in that moment. solas is constantly saying, "im sorry, but", "ir abelas, vhenan, but i cannot". mythal just states her actions plainly; i forced you to take a body, i brought you into war, these burdens are ours to bear together, i release you. no apology, no rumination, she is at peace with her decision even though it is wrong. i think this works wonderfully on a personal individual level of personal regrets. it is a good lesson; regret does not serve any purpose other than to hurt you. it brings no one back, it helps nothing, it does not make the world a better place. solas has to let go of his regrets so that he can become the hero that varric sees deep down in him. it is an essential part of his personal journey as a character... but it gets stickier when we are talking about systemic change. obvi a lot of dragon age's modern, young audience is very much in favor of "tear it all down!!" and i am too but i think with solas they are trying to tell a very personal and individual story of a man and his regrets rather than make a social commentary on radical change, but they also dont make that clear enough, so the two get muddied together when it comes to the question of the veil in a way that feels like they are advocating for maintaining the status quo, which i dont think was their intention.

i think this is so muddied because inquisition very much makes clear commentary on systems and institutions with the chantry, the orlesian empire, ferelden monarchy, mages and templars, and the inquisition itself being all vulnerable to corruption, and solas has a lot to say about all of this and he is very much presented as being right (like when he tells you about the corruption in your own ranks in trespasser and how hes spying on you lol) and then veilguard does not do this AT ALL, all of the issues are very personal ones of people and their identity, people and their family, people and their regrets etc. so i think a lot of us are in this mindset from inquisition of like.... yeah disrupt the status quo install a puppetmaster elf to rule an imperialist empire, make leliana pope and radicalize the chantry even if its bloody, dissolve the inquisition, abolish the circles etc. etc. and the question of the veil is very much an extension of these philosophical questions about systems and organizations. and for those of us who leaned towards dissolution of all of those corrupt structures, dissolution of the veil is the logical conclusion to a story thats sending us that message. but then veilguard just. does not even engage with these topics at all. like its not even a question. it takes the question of the veil and translates it into a personal issue of solas's psyche (which is super interesting, just different) and connects it to his past actions, his relationship with mythal, and his perception of himself, rather than a macro-level question of what is best for the world when pursuing change, and the answer for solas on a personal level ends up being different from the answer that inquisition was asking us, but it feels disjointed as a result.

so the veil staying up was the right decision because it forced solas to let go of his regrets and the game is about him. so it was an exercise in his therapy session with his two ex-gfs and some annoying kid who wont leave him alone. but the problem is it doesn't answer or engage with the greater questions and themes about systemic change that the series has been building up to.

veilguard is interesting because it wants to be dragon age 2 so bad while simultaneously being terrified of dragon age 2. solas bringing down the veil would have been the answer to the question that anders blowing up the chantry asked, but veilguard decided to ask a completely different question instead. and i think it did a good job in that specific goal, but it doesnt satisfy 15 years of build up and instead just throws it out the window in favor of something else.

#veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #da:v spoilers #datv spoilers #dav spoilers #mine.txt #i will never stop writing essays

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lemotmo · 3 days ago

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Ok I need your and Ali’s thoughts on some of these Ryan interviews because like I fully get not spoiling things. I do.

But I’m confused how even with that in mind we’ve suddenly gone from gender neutral terms and whatnot to being back in brother and heterosexual and maybe another girlfriend for Eddie hell.

Like there’s not spoiling stuff and then there’s just absolutely crushing out any future hope. And the massive massive course correction by Ryan seems like over kill if it’s just to not spoil things.

Actually...

When I watched the episode earlier, I immediately checked if Ali had contacted me about it and these were her words:

"Even the jurno who did the interview didn't believe it when he said it. And all the jurnos pretty much agreed the last scene kind of felt like a beginning of some kind.

I do think they're going the slow burn route. It kind of sounds like Buck's going to get to have a little bit of single fun while Eddie continues to do his thing."

The journalists themselves are telling people that actors and showrunners lie as to not to spoil the story. This has happened plenty of times on 911 and many other shows for that matter.

The fact that Ryan used gender neutral terms at the end of season 7 might have had to do with the fact that he had no idea how fast his story was going to evolve. I think him and Oliver have finally got a timeline now of when all of this is going to go down.

If this is going the slow burn route, which is highly likely, they need to talk about where their characters are NOW. Not where they are going to be within 8 episodes.

And right now Buck has been broken up with and is single, so he might explore that. Mind you, we don't know if this is true. Just because Oliver would like that, doesn't mean it will happen.

Right now Eddie is finally ready to move on and explore himself. We'll have to wait and see how that manifests itself. But in Eddie's mind, Buck is his best friend right now, nothing more. He can't see it yet.

There is literally no other way for this story to go anymore. Buck's last love interest broke up with him. So he'll be left alone again. Eddie is still single as well, on the road to self-discovery. The show won't have them end up alone like this. It wouldn't make sense in their narratives, since all they've been doing is looking for happiness in the wrong places. They need to realise that happiness has been right there all along. It's been staring them in the face for years now. And they'll get it eventually, but it'll take them some time to get there.

Look... I know that I won't be able to convince everyone of all of this, but I am fully convinced at this point.

The Buddie storyline 'officially' launched last night during that last scene. 🤷‍♀️

#nonnies galore #Buddie slow burn speculation #buddie speculation #buddie #anonymous blog I love

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yunniverse · 1 day ago

Text

Warmth

౨ৎ PAIRING— choi san x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— fluff, established relationship, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS— mostly fluff, slight angst

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 1.0k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— san can’t sleep and you help him.

౨ৎ A/N— i hope you like it! feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3

You wake up slowly, your eyes adjusting to the light, as you instinctively reach toward your side, your hand coming in contact with the cold sheet.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you lift a hand to your face, rubbing your eyes as you yawn, trying to wake up. “San?” you mumble, checking the clock to your right, which reads 3:23 a.m.

With a small groan, you force yourself to sit up, shivering slightly when your barefeet touch the cool wood floor. “Sweetheart?” you question, wrapping your arms around yourself, starting to wish you’d chosen something more than shorts and a tank top to sleep in.

Walking down the hall, you start to wonder where your husband could be. This isn’t the first time he’s woken up in the middle of the night, but it worries you nonetheless.

“San?” you ask, peeking your head around the corner that leads to the balcony, which overlooks the ocean at the vacation house your staying in. A small smile grows on your face when you see San sitting in one of the chairs, wearing sweatpants and a white button up shirt, though none of the buttons are buttoned. He’s staring at the waves as they brush against the shore.

“Honey,” you call to him, stepping closer to gently place your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them down to rest against his chest. “What’s wrong?”

San sighs, “Nothing, baby. Did I wake you?”

“You didn’t,” you respond softly. “But the empty bed did.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Even after being with him for so long, he still gives you butterflies everyday. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“I figured,” you respond, resting your cheek against the top of his head, releasing a sigh. “Something on your mind?”

“I don’t know,” San frowns, shaking his head. “My mind just wouldn’t go to sleep.”

You nod against him, involuntarily shivering when a cool breeze blows across the beach. “Cold?” San asks, turning his head to look at you, as you nod, moving closer to him, basking in the small amount of warmth he provides. “You should go back to bed, baby.”

“Without you?” you pout, playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. “It’s cold in there too, especially without you.”

“I’ll only be out here for a little while longer,” San tells you, but you know he’ll probably sit out here until morning if he has his way.

“Sannie,” you slide your hands down a little further, leaning down to rest your chin against his shoulder. “You need rest. We didn’t come to this island so you could get even more exhausted.”

“I promise I’ll get some sleep,” he responds, gently tugging you around to the front of the chair, making you shiver at the lack of warmth.

He offers you a soft smile, his dimples showing, as he pulls you to stand between his legs, reaching up to cup your cheek with his hand, gently brushing his thumb across your skin.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” he whispers, making you sigh, shaking your head down at him.

“You know I will either way, San,” you respond, watching as he gives you a knowing smile. “Please come back to bed? Your thoughts can wait ‘til morning.”

“Tell my thoughts that, please,” San groans, frowning.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you coax, gently pulling him, even though you know you can’t get him up unless he wants to get up. “I know you don’t want to sit out here all night.”

“Alright,” San nods, giving in. “But only because I really am exhausted.”

“Whatever the reason, I’m just happy you’re agreeing,” you laugh as San quirks an eyebrow at you, his signature judging look on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me there so you’ll be warm?” he questions, making you laugh, shaking your head at him.

“Of course not, honey,” you respond. “That’s just an added bonus.” San rolls his eyes playfully as you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I really do hope you can rest tonight, Sannie.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he responds, flashing you a tired, but reassuring, smile as he closes the door to the balcony behind both of you.

“Like I said, I’ll worry either way,” you reply, gently pulling him along with you back to the bedroom.

“I really don’t think I’ll be able to get to sleep,” San tells you with a sigh as he slips off the button-up shirt. You watch him as he climbs into the bed beside you, his side dipping with his weight as you settle down next to him, rolling slightly to rest your hand against his chest, your hand moving to settle against his toned abs.

He hides his grin as you brush your thumb across his skin absentmindedly, probably not even realizing you’re doing it.

You’re tucked comfortable into his side as he wraps an arm around you, pulling the sheet up over the both of you. “I love you, San,” you whisper, resting your chin against his chest to look up at him.

“I love you too,” he responds with a wink, making you giggle, shaking your head at his silliness. Leaning toward him, you press a kiss to his lips, one he returns, kissing you softly. It never ceases to amaze you how gentle San’s kisses can be even if he’s in a bad mood.

“Goodnight, San,” you whisper, moving back to your original position, but not before pressing a soft kiss to San’s chest as well, making him hold you just a little bit tighter.

“Goodnight, love,” he responds softly as you sigh contentedly, hoping San will be able to fall asleep once you do.

With the sound of the waves outside and the gentle, rhythmic thumping of San’s heartbeat, it’s not long before you find yourself drifting to sleep, but not before you make sure to keep brushing your thumb across San’s abs, hoping it’ll comfort him enough to get to sleep.

About fifteen minutes of fighting off sleep later, you dare to lift your head slightly, glancing at San’s face, pleasantly surprised to find his eyes closed peacefully, his breathing steady. Maybe you’d finally figured out what he needed to get to sleep. With a content sigh, you settle back into San’s side, happy his mind finally let him rest.

Moving just a little closer to San, you snuggle into his warmth, letting his heartbeat and the waves lull you to sleep.

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ghostlychief · 2 days ago

Text

love like ghosts

summary: simon visits you in your dreams

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gen!reader

warnings: angst; death

---

You’re falling. Your body is tumbling through the clouds, but the ground seems to be nowhere in sight.

It seems endless, like you will plunge through the sky forevermore, as you spin and flip through the infinite sky. That’s when you hear it. A soft voice, like an angel, cutting through the air.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Listen to my voice, let it guide you down, down, down.” The voice tapers, and gets softer. It is no louder than a whisper, but you can hear it perfectly, through the wind that whips near your ears.

Right after hearing the voice, you notice your speed slowing down. Now you’re floating, making your way slowly through the clouds, no longer free falling. It’s nice, you think. You close your eyes and enjoy the descent down. To where you were going, you had no idea; but you don’t mind.

You begin to crave the assurance of the voice again.

“I’m right here,” it says in its hushed voice. Almost like it knew that you needed its comfort again, for it to keep guiding you, consoling you. There’s something so familiar about the voice, but you can’t place your finger on it. The deepness, the tenderness of it; you’ve heard it before. You’re sure.

“Why am I falling?” You ask. You’re confused. Why are you here? Where are you going?

“You’re taking a journey to visit an old friend,” the voice replies. “You haven’t seen them in quite some time; they miss you.”

You hear the voice explain what’s going on, but you’re still perturbed. Something’s wrong. There’s now a heaviness surrounding you despite that you’re floating instead of rapidly falling.

“An old friend?” you ask. You can’t think of anyone you haven’t seen in a while. All your friends are healthy and you’ve seen them just the other week. You whip your head around, desperate to find any sign of who is talking to you, but you see nothing. The air around you constricts and darkens as you continue your descent.

There’s still a cloud of ambiguity about what you are doing here; about who you’re supposed to see.

The clouds start to thin out and that’s when you make out the ground. Although it’s not a normal ground, its soft and fluffy, just like the clouds you’ve been falling through.

You gently land on your feet, looking around for your supposed “friend.” You frown. You see no one around you. You are alone.

The heaviness that envelops around you intensifies and your chest starts to ache. It feels like someone is pushing a dagger through your heart. You look down at your chest and see nothing penetrating it, no blood. What is going on?

“Y/n,” you hear. The piercing you felt in your chest immediately subsides.

It’s the voice again, although this time its louder, and seems close to you. Unlike how it was when you were in the sky. The voice from up there felt like a mist surrounding you, everywhere around you. But this, this voice is coming from a specific spot behind you. It’s sharper, clearer.

You turn around and gasp at what, rather who, you see. It’s him. Simon.

When you turn around, he smiles at you, like you are his whole world. His eyes crinkle when his lips upturn, he’s giving you his full smile, the one you loved most dearly. The scar above his lip twitches slightly as he looks at you.

“Simon?” you whisper. You can’t believe he’s standing in front of you. He looks just like your Simon, but there is a haze surrounding him, giving him an ethereal glow. You walk slowly up to him, afraid that if you run, he will disappear into a cloud of mist.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Tears fall down your face while Simon swiftly takes you into his arms. He wraps them around your frame, pulling you tightly into him. He smells familiar, something you’ve longed for. You wrap your hands around his neck, your nose in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you choke out.

“I know baby, I know. I miss you too.” At this, he clenches his arms around you even more, the action causes him to lift you slightly off the cloudy ground.

You continue to cry into his neck, relishing this moment because you sense that it’s not going to last. The heaviness is seeping back into your chest, the point of the dagger teasing your heart.

“Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.” You plead. The mist around you tints grey, threatening to twist black as you bargain.

You look up at him. He smiles gently down at you, bringing up a hand to brush your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“You know I can’t stay,” he repines.

You’re grasping at his hands now; they are resting delicately on your face. His thumbs stroking underneath your eyes, wiping away the constant flow of tears.

“But I love you,” you argue. “Why did you leave me?” You’re sobbing now, still in Simon’s hold.

“No one knows why some people’s time ends before others, but just know, I’m here waiting for you when it’s yours.”

He looks down at you one last time before he says, “I love you so much. I’ll see you soon.” When you look back up at him, he’s fading away into the stormy clouds that surround you. The heaviness in your chest returns, and wraps around your heart, making it hard for you to breathe.

“Simon!” you scream. You repeat his name over and over and keep wailing for him to come back, already missing his warmth. But, no matter how much you scream into the void, he doesn’t return. You start to lose your voice and your throat becomes scratchy. Exhausted, you lie down on the soft ground, deciding that it’s time to rest.

As you close your eyes, you feel the constriction around your chest loosen up, and your breathing slows. The clouds envelop your body, and you gently seep into them, the darkness completely consuming you.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley imagine #simon x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod ghost x you #mw2 ghost x you #angst #lee rants #fanfiction #imagine #angst with slight fluff #ambiguous ending

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girlboysam · 9 hours ago

Text

He was praying again. Dean couldn’t see him, but he could hear. Nothing distinctive, just mumbled words. Probably kneeling at the side of the bed, by the window—that was his favorite spot. Dean had just gotten out of the shower, and he’d learnt that while he showered, Sam prayed. Each night his rambling seemed longer. Dean felt like he was going insane. When had Sammy started believing? Where had he learnt it? What did he pray about?

Nothing that Sam kept secret like this could be good. He needed to know what was so important Sam had to pray to God about it. Was it morally correct to listen to a private prayer? Probably not. But it was Sam, and everything that was Sam’s was Deans. Always had been. So, he listened.

“Dear God, thank you for letting us return safe from this hunt. Thank you for saving Dean from that vampire.”

Dean snorted at that, that had nothing to do with some God. No, that was all him.

Sam took a deep breath before continuing, apparently done with his thanks. “God, are we judged for our thoughts? Is it a sin if I have never acted on it? I have prayed for forgiveness time and time again, and yet here I am again.”

What? What did he do desperately need forgiveness for? Was this about Jess?

“Father, please grant me forgiveness and guidance. Please let me wake up tomorrow and never think of him in that way again.” Sam had never treated their real father with that much respect. Guess only fantasy gets that treatment, Dean thought bitterly.

His voice soft and breathy, Sam begged, “Please Father, wash away my sinful thoughts of my brother.” Dean jolted, his head that had been pressed up against the peeling paint of the door jerking back. “Let my mind and body never yearn for his touch again.”

Sam shuddered and Dean fought the urge to go to his side. What was he saying? It didn’t make sense. Dean understood what he was saying abstractly, but it was all wrong. No, whatever thoughts Sam had about him, God wouldn’t fix him. Whatever yearnings he had, God wouldn’t take them away.

“Please God, save me.”

God didn’t exist. Dean did.

And Dean could save him.

#is this anything #sam’s faith complex #wincest #samdean #supernatural #spn #weirdcest #wincest ficlet

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watarfallar · 2 days ago

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*gay braincell tossing*

Scar: Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Grian: Why start now?

Grian: I love you. Scar: I love me too.

Grian: I literally cannot believe I let you talk me into this. Scar: I literally said “I have an idea,” and you just went along with it without question.

Scar: Snow got me feeling some type of way. Grian: That's hypothermia. Scar: Damn, the paramedics told me it was the magic of Christmas.

Grian: Surgery is basically just stabbing someone to life. Scar: Please never become a surgeon.

Scar: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Scar: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

Scar: Damn, the power went out. Grian: Don’t worry, I got this. Grian: *stomps foot* Scar: What-? Grian: *Sketchers light up*

Grian: We either die free, or die trying! Scar: Are those the only choices?

Scar: I’m totally useless. Grian: You’re not totally useless. Grian: You can be used as a bad example.

Scar: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue? Grian: Technically a mix of green and blue? Scar: So blurple. Grian: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple. Scar: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE? Grian: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

Scar: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?! Grian: ... Scar: Oh, right. The lying.

Grian: You’re not jealous, are you? Scar: No! Grian: Good, ‘cause I consider my fake relationship with you a lot more meaningful.

Scar: And what did we learn, Grian? Grian: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

Scar: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong. Grian: *Sipping their drink after accidentally adding salt* I just like the way it tastes.

Scar: You are a solid 11/10. Grian: Aw, thank- Scar: Which is 1.1 because you look like shit.

Scar: And have you learnt anything this Christmas, Grian? Grian: …Not really. Scar: Nothing? Grian: Tell you one thing I have learnt—Christmas; ultimately, commercial holiday. Who's the real winner at Christmas? Amazon. they have drones now! Tiny little dystopian slaves delivering iPads and headphones. I ordered a toaster; It was on the doorstep five hours later! Do we need that? It was 4.99! For a toaster! I mean, someone's being exploited there.

Grian: Kill him. Scar: This is the kind of quality advice I look for.

Scar: There are no friends when playing board games. I am here to win.

Grian, texting: Scar, will you please go to sleep? Scar, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up? Grian, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP! Grian, texting: Just a hunch :) You goin’ to sleep soon? Scar, texting: I’m trying Grian, yelling again: TRY HARDER I HAVE A 5:45 AM MEETING TOMORROW BITCH Grian, texting: Okay, don’t stay up too late or you’ll be cranky :)

Scar: I’m a masochist, not a loser.

Scar: Wow, that was quick thinking on that phony sacrifice stuff. Grian: Oh, that was all real. Scar: Wait, you were trying to help them kill us?! Grian: If I’m gonna be sacrificed, I’m gonna do it right.

Grian: *spins around in chair ominously* I’ve been expecting y- *chair continues to spin* shit *tries to stop spinning* shit *tries to grab a table to stop spinning* sHIT *falls out of chair*

Grian: I’m not stupid, you know. Scar: Well, you’re doing a really good impression of it!

Scar: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you. Scar: Ask me to kill for you. Grian: ...First of all, calm down-

Scar: Grian, you’ve tried 37 times and you’ve failed every time. Give it a break. Grian: DO I HEAR “FIRST TRY PART 38?”

Grian: I know how this must look but I can assure you we have a perfectly logical explanation. Scar: Yeah! We’re cowards!

Scar: *holds a gun out to Grian* Grian: I-I don't believe in guns. Scar: Well, trust me, they're very real. Now take it.

Scar: I owe you one. Grian: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

Grian: I hate you with every inch of my body! Scar: That’s not a lot of inches.

Scar, to Grian: You drink too much, swear too much, and your morals are highly questionable. Grian: … Scar: You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a best friend.

Scar: I need a long word. Grian: T-rex but the long one.

Grian: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Grian: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go. Scar: Those are wanted posters!

#grian #gtws #trafficblr #incorrect quotes #scarian #desert duo #life series #enjoy💜💜💜

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lewkwoodnco · 6 hours ago

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Okay I’m just so proud of this edit I just havee to talk abt some of the scene choices hehe🙈🙈

Mon, pine - ngl i completely forgot this scene existed until I randomly stumbled upon it while looking for some other screencaps and thank god I did cuz it fits SO WELL??? Lucy’s possessed by Annabel who’s talking abt someone else obviously but just LOOK at Lockwood’s face half of him wants to snap Lucy out of it/make sure she stays safe and the other half is just mesmerised by the sight of her looking at him like that. And the dialogue??? YOU LOVE ME, DONT YOU????? And he so obviously does but can’t say it/ is too scared to and it’s frightening to see lucy like this but he can’t look away he’s drinking in the sight like a man starved 😭 just the juxtaposition of lovkwood’s pining and the cheekily on-the-nose ‘you love me don’t you’ line creates this delicious tension ARGH the writers were sick SICKKK for this

Tue, long - as soon as he first laid eyes on lucy it’s like he can’t help but let his gaze linger over her and even though she’s the candidate being interviewed the way he tries to impress her as he gives her the tour (the basement training area, the ‘high security’ storage room, her room in the attic) it’s like you can tell he’s already desperately hoping that she’ll join as if he’s longing for company like hers

Wed, ache - love is nothing if not pain like other than the obvious physical pain of being in such close proximity to a flare explosion etc bro is HURTING with regret for putting her (and george) in danger just cuz he insisted they take the case and now they’re in so deep and its all his fault but also he just wanted to fix the 62 sheen road fallout keep his agency open (it’s almost like he wants to prove to her that he/lockwood and co. is worth sticking with) but it’s all gone so wrong and he’s just drowningggg in physical and mental anguish only love can hurt/ACHE like this frfr

Thu, sigh - but at the end of the day lockwood is still a 16 ish year old boy who sucks at expressing his innermost feelings and doesn’t know how to deal with jealousy in any way other than being moody about it/suppressing it and this scene is like yea these are kids fighting ghosts night after night but for five minutes they get to be regular angsty teenagers and have the air between them hang heavy with unspoken words and it’s all so dumb and frustrating but also they’re teenagers what ELSE are they going to do HHHHHHH like look at his face!!! bro is befuddled. dumbfounded. bamboozled even. (what do you mean you’re going out with Kipps i thought we’ve been playing house tgt what)

Fri, lament - as funny as this scene is it’s oddly sweet how he’s ranting so openly to Lucy and like the way she tries to reason with him (he probably signed the same NDA we did) and he STILL stomps around throwing a fit aurgghh it’s so adorable just kiss already

Sat, crave - just look at him. bro is down bad for every single part of lucy it’s like he can’t get enough of her, he’s not even hiding it here like look at him watch her like she’s the most precious thing in the world ughhh

Sun, yearn - ooh this scene is like the breaking point of all the accumulated hidden feelings and thoughts between them and he’s messed up so badly atp even lucy is properly pissed (where’s that incorrect quote - my girl is mad at me I am going to KILL myself) but he’s just too paralysed by 16-year-old-boy syndrome to respond to her (tho he finally gets his head on somewhat right in the next scene) so he just stares at her and takes the scolding wondering how things got this bad when all he had done was care and love and yearn for Lucy (can’t you see his heart clawing out of his chest to get to her)

Also I think it’s so hilarious that in the scene in the top gif he’s talking to lucy aka the very person that has him BOOKED AND BUSY with longing 😭😭

a week in the life of London's youngest agency head (insp.)

#in conclusion me and WHO 😭😭😭😭#wowww this got long hehehe sorryy #Lockwood and co #locklyle #sr

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someonehugratchet · 1 day ago

Text

Ratchet who was neutral in the war.

He was neither Autobot nor Decepticon, but a medic for those who were caught between fire fights or who couldn’t fight. Sparklings, injured civilians, lower class citizens who couldn’t get shelter from either side for whatever reason.

Ratchet would go out himself and find them, brining them back to one of several hidden infirmaries he set up with volunteers and past students of his.

First Aid always stayed in the biggest one, which held all the sparklings as it was the safest.

Fixit would sneak between them all to make sure that all the set false safes were in order. He helped show the little ones where to gin in the case of an attack.

He believed Optimus Prime wanted to help, but the mech was too busy fighting the fight to be able to spare much time on the broken bots that had a chance.

They knew each other and Prime had worked to keep their bases a secret even as Ratchet resumed to let them sway him into fighting with them.

Megatron’s men were allowed only in one base where other soldiers were kept, guarded by Pharma and Remedy both. Autobots and Decepticon both had an understanding that it was neutral ground and no fights would be had, the two keeping in seperate wings of the fragile clinic.

That understanding was crushed after one fateful cycle.

Ratchet had responded to First Aids distress signal as quick as he could, travelling over half of Cybertron to get to the infirmary as quick as he could.

He arrived just in time to see Shockwave leaving.

With dread in his spark he had rushed through a secret exit and into the main room and instantly fell to his knees.

Over two hundred sparklings lay desecrated in the entire place.

Most of them were missing some part of their body, some burnt into nothing.

Ratchet only made a noise, a wailing sound of pure grief, when he saw the remains of First Aid clutching three little ones.

All dead.

His screams had only grown in intensity as he looked around the room and found that Pharma and Remedy had come to aid and fallen as well.

Ratchet could have stayed there and rusted over if he hadn’t notice some of his patients weren’t there, hope burning his spark as I rushed to the feeds to try and figure out where they had gone.

He watches the footage with grime determination even as he feels his spark shattering into pieces.

It falters for several moments when he watches Shockwave order some of his men to take some of the sparklings. He hears the disturbing mech say something about ‘suitable test subjects’ and feels the energon in his systems freeze. Ratchet’s heard of what Shockwave has done, how the unfeeling monster doesn’t care for the notion of ethical conduct and onto for results.

Eventually Optimus as some of his most trusted come by the hidden location in the hopes of stopping a massacre, only to find Ratchet sitting on the floor with the body of a sparkling in his hands.

He had tried to bring the femme back after seeing a slight flux in her tiny spark, but it was useless.

Bumblebee is hurt the most as it was the same clinic he had been raised in before he became a scout, seeing Ratchet work for years and being the main reason they had even known something was wrong.

He falls to his knees as Elita moves to check for Decepticons, if only to distract herself.

Optimus approaches Ratchet with grief in his spark, carefully removing the deceased sparkling from his hold.

“I… I am truely sorry, old friend.”

Ratchet looks up and sees Orion Pax, the young mechling who had once asked him for an autograph.

When he speaks it’s distant, like his mainframe as gone on autopilot, “He took some of the sparklings. We need to find them.”

Optimus nods, helping him stand on unsteady pedes, “We will, I swear we will it stop until we have.”

Ratchet looks at Optimus with a fire in his eyes, “I know. But Optimus, I don’t care about you code. I don’t care about your morals or war crimes, Shockwave will pay for this.”

For the first time since the war began, the Prime looked around the room and nodded with a darkness over his optics.

“You are right. They have gone too far to deserve honour.”

#tfp #tfp ratchet #transformers ratchet #nurse ratchet #ratchet #transformers prime #ratchet angst #transformers #heavy angst #optimus prime #first aid transformers #remedy transformers #fixit transformers #Pharma Tranformers #transformers cybertron #shockwave

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ipleadbritney · 2 days ago

Note

could we please have ↻ FLIP FLOP for the first kiss scene in three-sixteenths???

thank you dear!!! 💕

- kitty 💕 (aka three-sixteenths’ biggest fan)

for @utopiastri who's really the sweetest!! ask game post here thank you for letting me revisit three-sixteenths in oscar's pov!!

3/16 the first kiss, flip flop

“Uncomfortable?” Lando repeats.

“With my magic. I don't want to make you throw up, or, you know.”

Oscar himself is one wrong move away from throwing up, actually. Yesterday threw him in for a spinner. Every time he blinks, he conjures up the walls of Monaco around him, waiting and waiting.

He hoped to get some rest today, to let his magic stretch over the new place. Nico Rosberg mentioned in an interview once how telekinesis in Monaco is different. Everything's lighter. Oscar wouldn't mind trying it.

But Lando called, and, well. Oscar was already skimming teleportation crash guides in the middle of their call.

Lando and curses is a horrible combination. It's taking everything in Oscar not to panic.

Lando clears his throat. “I asked you to come here so you could probe at it. And I'm not throwing up. Magic reflects the person, right? I answered your call for a reason, and I'm glad I did.”

How can Oscar not panic when Lando just says the sweetest things like it's nothing?

But someone has to be calm between the two of them, and Oscar's not going to pass the responsibility on the person who's cursed.

He rubs at the empty space where his suppressor usually is. Calm down. “I'm glad you answered my call, Lando. I really am.”

Better him than anyone else. If Oscar's right, then—

True Love's Kiss is a powerful spell that has wavered in popularity in recent decades. Most historians agree it is common for any spell to have crests and troughs. This particular case, however, has stumped some of the wisest living magical minds.

Has humanity polluted our world to the point of a Great Spell extinction? Do we even need True Love's Kiss anymore?

Oscar forces a smile, ignoring his thoughts. Not much a textbook can help them with, right?

Lando smiles back. Oscar loosens up.

Maybe it's not True Love's Kiss.

What if it is?

It doesn't have to be. Oscar can just kiss Lando right now. Fix the curse after. Free Lando's wrist. Explain somehow along the way that he like Lando enough to think he'd break True Love's Kiss if it came down to it.

It won't.

Lando's phone vibrates and lights up with a text notification. Oscar barely makes out the name Charlie.

“Aren't you going to read that?” Oscar asks.

Lando shakes his head, still smiling. Dazed. “No, it's probably a stupid notif—” he checks his phone “—fucking finally, Charlie's awake.”

He's mouthing the words as he reads them, something that hasn't escaped Oscar. Cute, of course, but also. The text can't be that long.

Lando sits up straighter. He's re-reading the text. Again and again.

Worry's bubbling up inside Oscar. Unfortunately, his worries have a nasty way of materializing through his magic.

So does Lando's. There's buzzing in the air, like static TV.

He tightens the control on his magic. He won't be of any help to Lando if he's a mess on his own.

After what must've been the 20th re-read, Oscar asks, “What did Charles say?”

“I need to kiss someone Italian. To break the curse, I need to kiss someone Italian.”

Lando all but throws his phone to Oscar for him to check. Charles’ texts confirm Oscar's suspicions, or at least part of it. Being right is such an overrated emotion.

Can TLKs be bound by other conditions apart from the whole yeah you're my one true love? Kiss-curses that aren't TLK are even rarer. Leave it up to the Monaco Grand Prix to attract generational magic users who can randomly cast a kiss-curse.

What if Charles misheard it? Misunderstood. Mistranslated.

What if he didn't?

“I hoped it would be different,” Oscar starts. “Not that you'll have a hard time finding someone Italian to kiss, no, but uh, Sophie will have our heads. Because it'll cause a riot, maybe. Then they'll resurrect us so Sophie can have our heads again.”

Please let the floor swallow Oscar whole.

“Thanks, I guess?” Lando says, and his face is so open, you can see every single emotion he's feeling right now.

Oscar wonders if Lando can read him the same way. Like how he's no longer surprised when Oscar sticks close to him in public, anticipates it. Leaves a little bit of space for Oscar to slide through. It's the type of understanding and clarity Oscar's always wanted.

“You know, I'm 3/16 Italian,” Oscar blurts out.

Lando half-splutters, half-laughs. “You don't have to cheer me up, Osc."

“I didn't say it to just cheer you up. I'm here to help. That's why I'm here, yeah?”

For the first time since coming here— which is the first time he's ever been in Lando's apartment and everything is Lando Lando Lando —Oscar's mind is clear.

“Reckon it'll work?”

“Won't know if we won't try."

Oscar can still backtrack. He can salvage the threads of their professional relationship. Nevermind that their professionalism has turned into Lando practically sitting on his lap during meetings because his seat doesn't “seat right”.

But Lando's beaming. “Sure. Let's do it.”

Huh. It can't be that easy. It can only be that easy if Lando likes Oscar back. He doesn't. Probably. “Oh, okay.”

Nothing happens. Is it up to Oscar? Well, Lando's handcuffed to his bed, so. Oscar needs to, good God. Oscar needs to.

“Do you think it's supposed to be, like…” Oscar took three magic-related electives and none of them talked about breaking possible kiss-curses.

“Kiss on the mouth?” Lando’s smile grows even wider. Does he? Like Oscar back? “You're the magic nerd here.”

“I'm really not.”

“Go big or go home,” Lando says.

Suddenly Lando hooks a finger on Oscar's collar and pulls him closer. Oscar kneels in front of Lando, one of his legs bracketed by Lando's thighs. Lando's pretty like this, looking up at Oscar.

Oscar touches Lando's cheek. “This okay?” he murmurs.

Lando closes his eyes and leans into his touch. Nods.

Oscar presses a soft kiss on Lando's mouth. The buzzing's gone, has been for a long time, maybe.

He pulls back just the slightest, but Lando's kissing him. Oscar is reeled right back in, deeper this time. Lando holds him by his waist. Gentle but secure.

Oscar's dreamt of this before, but those didn't. Get the details correct. Lando's sighs. His taste. His magic.

Fuck, Oscar's own magic. He can feel it slipping out of his control.

Lando parts open his mouth, a permission for Oscar to take. How much can Oscar take? How much is he willing to take?

There's a clicking sound and a wash of strange magic, bursting then fading away.

The handcuffs. Oscar almost forgot about that.

They move apart, which is a bit hard with Lando's fingers curled up in his shirt.

The curse leaves behind a cloud of gold and green glitter. A few specks land on Lando's nose then melt off.

“I'll call you first if I ever get cursed again,” Lando says, laughing. There's a halo surrounding his head. Oscar's magic.

“I'm 1/16 Chinese.” He returns to his spot at the foot of the bed. “Call me even if you're not cursed?”

“Don't jinx it, mate.”

Oscar's not going to jinx it. No hexes or curses or any love spells, either. He doesn't trust his magic to not influence Lando. He puts his suppressor on, and it sucks the fucking air out of the room.

“Sorry,” he tells Lando. “It's, I've got my suppressor back on.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Broke the curse already, didn't we?”

Lando tilts his head, assessing. “We did.”

What do they do now?

Lando takes the lead, as he usually does. “Want lunch? I'll reserve us a spot, so don't leave. Give me, like, 15.”

As if Oscar would ever say no to lunch with Lando. “I'd like that, sure. Let's get lunch.”

If it hadn't been a kiss-curse, they would've probably kissed some more. Oscar tries not to be too hung up about it.

#landoscar #landoscar fic #britwrites #my drabbles #three-sixteenths #inbox #THIS GOT OUT OF HAND ACTUALLT #3/16 in oscar's pov is too damn fun and funny

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unicyclehippo · 1 day ago

Note

One word prompt for hawkeye/bishova: tense

(Also yay! Excited for you to try to write for them! Love ur writing and also hawkeye 🫶)

ok just a short one while i have my coffee. in the same vague story as regret & stumble

so far, kate’s talked for the whole drive.

it’s not something she’s particularly proud of, okay? it’s just a fact. she does start to think she would make an incredible politician purely on her filibuster flair but the thought passes, a little because she can’t think of anything worse than politics, a little because she starts feeling guilty that her present filibustering isn’t some grand speech in defence of civil liberties but a desperate attempt to fill the car with noise so clint won’t ask her questions.

‘—and that’s obviously where everything started to go wrong, because apparently the bell wasn’t fixed in the tower properly and the arrow doesn’t weight that much—what am i saying, you know how much arrows weigh, and this was just a flute14, they’re like, what three-eighty?’

‘three eighty-five.’

kate turned in the seat to stare at him, mouth agape. she hadn’t seen him turn his hearing aid off but she had just figured, after three hours of this, that he’d managed to tune her out. she didn’t think he was really listening.

oh well. in for an arrow, in for a quiver full.

‘right! so i didn’t think it would bring a tower down. obviously. but it turns out that the weight of the arrow is nothing and it’s actually the force you gotta calculate, which, i should obviously have realised but yknow what they say about hindsight and shooting arrows at bell towers. i guess the bell wasn’t built to be rung because when i used the snapshut head—‘

‘snapshut?’

‘yeah. they have a claw on the front so when you hit something, it clicks the trigger and closes the claw around it.’

clint tilts his head. ‘huh.’

‘anyway, the arrow pulled the rope and the rope pulled the bell and the bell pulled the beam and the beam pulled the top of the tower and everything kinda…collapsed from there.’

if she had to pick when things started going wrong this year, that was probably it. or was it just the latest in a long string of things going wrong? there was an unhappy thought.

‘did you design the snapshut head?’

kate beamed at clint. she was so happy he was her partner—he knew she needed to talk. talk about taking one for the team.

‘no, i saw last years olympics champ using something similar. well, i guess i designed my snapshuts—design feels like a really sophisticated term,’ she confessed. ‘i just kept trying stuff until it worked.’

clint glanced sidelong at her. ‘yeah,’ he said. ‘that’s what designing is.’

‘oh. then yeah.’

he huffed a little laugh and turned his attention back to the road.

it was really pretty. they were still in pennsylvania and the highway ran straight and clear ahead of them. on either side, dense forests crowded in grey and green and on a distant ridge, she could make out rows of looming hemlocks like a fence of arrows.

maybe not arrows, she supposed. just because something was triangular didn’t mean it looked like an arrow.

she leaned her head against the window. it shuddered and jumped under her skull from the tiny bumps in the road and made her teeth buzz.

clint reached carefully back and grabbed his sweater, holding it out to her.

‘what’s this for?’

‘fold it up, use it as a pillow.’ he said it all stern, an order, like it wasn’t the sweetest thing in the world. ‘you’ll get a concussion if your head bangs around like that.’

‘another concussion,’ she pointed out cheerfully. ‘oh. you didn’t know that? i mean, i’m fine.’

‘mhm.’ clint glowered at the road.

kate folded up the soft sweater and tucked it between her head and the window. then, between one blink and the next, she fell asleep.

lucky barked when clint took him out to pee at the next gas station. kate jerked awake with a kick and a snort.

‘shh,’ clint soothed, patting her shoulder. ‘go back to sleep.’

‘you should have woken me up!’ kate insisted for the sixth time. ‘i can’t believe you bought chips, of all things. i mean, salt? what were you thinking? it’s gonna dry us out, parch the lips, we’re gonna be gasping for liquids, clint!’

‘will it stop you from talking?’

‘in the worst case scenario, yes.’ she narrowed her eyes at him and asked, darkly, ‘why?’

he scratched at the stubble on his chin, but not fast enough to hide his smile. ‘just wondering. there’s something blue in the icebox, by the way.’

‘blue?’

kate twisted to check what drinks he bought. it looks like the worlds most off-brand gatorade and she gets why he just said blue. it’s not only the name but also the most prominent and upsetting feature.

‘it’s so blue…’

‘i know.’

‘this can’t be healthy.’

‘can’t be.’

‘…want half?’

clint rolled down his window and poured the dregs of his coffee into the highway gutter, passing the styrofoam cup over.

‘so. you had drinks with yelena?’

kate dug very nonchalantly into the bag of chips. she pulled out a folded chip between her pointer and middle finger.

‘did you ever get told it was bad luck to touch a folded chip with your thumb?’

‘…no.’

‘weird.’ she shoved it in her mouth and chewed obnoxiously loud. maybe he’d take it as a hint.

he didn’t.

‘some protege you turn out to be,’ he teased (she hoped). ‘you couldn’t have waited a week? she only tried to kill me yesterday.’

‘she wasn’t trying very hard,’ kate pointed out. ‘if she wanted either of us dead, we would be dead. like, you saw her fighting, right?’

‘yep.’

‘i’m not bad at fighting, clint! i have won—‘ she totted them up quickly. ‘seventeen trophies! important trophies! i got my black belt at fifteen. and she’s like, wow. so much better.’

clint nodded. his face stayed smooth but kate, half turned in her seat to lean against the window, had a perfect view of his hands curling tight around the steering wheel.

‘yep.’

‘was—‘ kate stopped. shoved another chip in her mouth.

clint’s lips turned up very slightly. ‘you can ask.’

‘are you sure?’

‘yeah.’

‘okay.’

kate thought carefully about how to phrase it. the black widow—the black widow—was a sore subject for clint. hawkeye. for obvious reasons. and with each hour that passed in this rust bucket truck that smelled now of gasoline and potato chips and dog, everything got a little bit more strange. she had known instantly who clint was when he stripped the mask from her face—the hawkeye! her hero! the world’s hero!—and then the week passed like a kidney stone and now he was hawkeye and also nathaniel’s dad and a husband and this guy. who was strange in his own right. like, who went into a gas station and bought the weirdest stuff on purpose? and kate was sitting in his passenger seat, their bows were packed together in the back seat, he had walked her dog. it was a lot. and she didn’t want to fuck it up.

‘was natasha like that?’ she asked quietly, words half vanishing under the putter of the engine so if he wanted to, he could pretend he hadn’t heard.

‘she was better.’ when kate scoffed, he grinned that tight lopsided grin, like he’d half forgotten how to smile. ‘i’m serious. she was the best. once, that meant she was the worst of the worst. and then…’

‘the shot you didn’t take.’

‘yeah.’

‘and she came to your side.’

‘not at first.’ clint opened his mouth. kate threw a chip in and cheered when he caught it between his teeth. ‘it was messy,’ he said through the crunch. ‘she killed some more people, injured more, broke into some facilities.’

‘what?’

‘she was a bad guy, kate.’ clint’s smile faded a touch. ‘yelena is too. just ‘cause she’s out doesn’t mean she’s changed.’

hot words raced up her throat into her mouth like bile; kate bit them back, surprised and a little weirded out by her own intensity. you don’t understand! she wanted to say, which was dumb as hell because of all the people in the world, the black widow’s best friend knew.

kate lowered her eyes to the dashboard. she thought of bell towers and scoldings and her mother’s gentle hand on her chin, looking at her the same way she had at eight years old.

‘i’ll be careful,’ she told him softly.

‘okay.’

clint had been a trooper through the trip, kate could and would readily admit that. she was the worst road trip buddy in the world. school trips relegated to being the teachers buddy could attest to that.

the last hour, kate folded her lips tight and her hands in her lap, only reaching out to stroke lucky’s head until he glared sleepily at her out of his one eye and turned away.

‘you’re being pretty quiet.’

‘are you sure i should come?’ kate blurted.

clint laughed. ‘bit late for that, isn’t it?’

‘no? i mean, the nearest airport is, what, two hours drive? or i could rent a car and drive back. it’s really pretty here, it’d be a nice drive, i wouldn’t mind at all. because christmas is a family thing and i know your kids were really wanting you back—‘

‘you’re coming.’

‘okay.’

clint threw her a few worried looks as the minutes ticked away.

‘she invited you. my wife. they want to meet you.’

‘me?’

‘no,’ he drawled, ‘the other girl archer who saved my life.’

he admitted it! kate very coolly grinned and pumped her fist in a secret little cheer.

‘okay,’ she said again.

she thought it sounded very happy that time, she thought she was very happy that time, but then clint had to sling a question her way—unfair—and she wasn’t so sure.

‘do you want to be there?’ he scratched at his head, above his deafened ear. ‘i didn’t really ask, i guess. did you want to stay in the city?’

kate leaned against the soft sweater and turned her eyes to the highway. the grass plain and the rolling hills that curtained the barton farm from the rest of ohio and the world.

‘nah,’ she said, tone light. ‘are you kidding? and miss out on christmas with the real hawkeye?’

given that she had raised her misgivings like, twelve seconds ago, she deserved his very intense and disbelieving side-eye. but it was sweet that he didn’t press.

cooper, she learned, was like his dad in that he kept most of his thoughts inside his head. he was less like his dad because when kate started rambling, he actually seemed to enjoy it and laughed at all her jokes. he probably got that from his mom, who was the most incredible host. warm and gracious and welcoming from the get go.

nathaniel—nate—was cheeky and bright and goofy and totally enamoured with lucky. he was at that age where he constantly had sticky hands and something on his face and when he laughed more than anything else.

lila was an odd combination of her parents. she looked a lot like her mom, and older than her years in the way kate remembered from high school, wanting to seem older than she was. she was so obviously sharp, clever and pointed and had a ton of questions for kate that started off kind and got way more… harsh wasn’t the right word. protective, maybe. of her dad and his time he had promised them. of herself, when it came to this stranger who had stolen their dad for a long precious week.

‘so, you’re like, his apprentice now or something?’ lila asked when her parents were busy in the kitchen kissing hello and, kate assumed, telling her some of the more important things that had happened.

‘um. something like that.’

‘that’s cool. you’re an archer like him?’

‘yeah, yep.’

‘and you nearly got both of you killed?’

‘lila.’

‘i’m just asking.’

‘not in front of nate,’ laura murmured, with a sweet smile. ‘and maybe not at all, yeah hun?’ she tugged at her daughter’s ponytail lightly, teasing.

‘i don’t mind,’ kate lied brightly, sitting tall and tense on the sofa with the girl. ‘it’s totally fair to ask.’

‘see! she doesn’t mind.’

kate had to look away when laura sent her daughter The Look; her ribs ached, clenching so tight around her chest, and it was weirdly hard to breathe for a second.

‘—ate? kate?’

a soft hand touched her shoulder. kate jumped up from the sofa, jostling laura and her own hot cocoa.

‘hey, sweetie, are you—‘

‘which way to the little girl’s room, sorry? it was a helluva long drive,’ she laughed, and chattered as lila stood at another parental look and guided her through a warren of doors and halls to the guest toilet.

‘sorry for badgering you,’ she said quietly, sharply, but not begrudgingly. ‘i’m just glad he’s home.’

and safe, she didn’t say.

kate smiled down at the girl. ‘i get it,’ and rolled her eyes when lila huffed and strode away. wild. she was usually so good with people, and especially kids. she had it on good authority that she was still just an older kid a lot of the time.

tucking away in the washroom, kate sat and let herself breathe. it smelled of lavender soap and some leafy plant on the windowsill. everything was clean and kitschy and so not home that kate had to curl up tight around her bruised and battered body and press her face into her coat, smell the singed sleeve and remember that yeah, she had fought kingpin and a thousand tracksuit goons yesterday and—and everything else that happened too.

her pocket shivered. more accurately, the phone in her pocket shook with an incoming text.

(yelena), the ID said. kate had changed it pretty fast. not that she was likely to forget.

no message to say you are there safe? how rude.

kate laughed softly.

we got here safe. no thanks to clint

should she have said that? yelena wasn’t on the warpath anymore but would she get it was a joke?

he bought this weird blue drink, she started, and kept talking until clint called her for dinner.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #bishova #very loosely #hawkeye fic

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