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luveline · 13 hours ago

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i just saw someone on tiktok say “behind every girl that always wants to be around their partner is a little who’s dad didn’t choose her.” with aaron pls :(( and reader reveals her daddy issues? xxx

—hotch comforts you when you worry you depend on him for the wrong reasons. fem, 2k

You were aware of the irony. Girl who hates her father latches onto the first older man to give her any positive attention: the framing isn’t complimentary to either of you, and it’s not true, really. You love Aaron because he’s kind, and he’s handsome, and because he loves you first. You won’t pretend he’s perfect even if he might say that about you. He doesn’t have to be.

Aaron is kind where all the other men in your life have been cruel. He is the person you go to when things go wrong, even if you don’t expect him to fix things for you. You know you have ‘daddy issues’, and you don’t want them to affect how you and Aaron are when you’re together, but it’s obvious to the both of you that you crave being looked after. The way Aaron takes care of you absolutely factors into why you love him.

He wraps the tail end of your scarf into your coat and flattens the lump of it until it’s under your chin. “Alright?” he asks, not expecting an answer as he turns away to grab his own scarf. “Will that coat be warm enough? It might be a few hours.”

“Fine. We’ll be inside most of the time.”

“Mm,” he hums, reaching back to pinch your side. You laugh and he smiles but doesn’t say anything further, pulling open the front door, and holding it for you until you’re on the porch.

“You know you don’t have to… spoil him, so much,” you say lightly.

“It’s not spoiling, he only wants a few things.”

You’d personally felt that Jack’s birthday wish list was a bit long, but you don’t care. You don’t have a vendetta against Jack's happiness. If Aaron wants to spend half a paycheck (alright, a quarter, if that) on some toys, he should do it. But he probably knows already that Jack won’t care if he doesn’t get all of that stuff. “I didn’t get half as much for my birthdays,” you say.

“Believe me, honey, neither did I.”

“One year someone’s mom got me a full box set of movies though. That was a good one.”

“One year, I got two different pagers.” He snorts. “And now they’re useless.”

“I never used a pager.”

Aaron goes a bit red, self-shame or something silly like that. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Cradle snatcher.”

“Stop, that’s not funny.”

It’s funny. You aren’t shockingly younger than Aaron but it’s definitely enough time to see the difference (not that you care, you quite like him with his permanent wrinkle between his brows and his big, big hands). “I really haven’t. I know what they are, of course, but I went straight to a cell phone.”

He grumbles something unheard. Together, you get into his car and drive to the shopping centre nearest the house, a maze of storefronts with outdoor entrances, like a mall that’s been shaken and thrown out over two streets. It’s not entertaining but in a way, it’s good. Aaron holds your hand and you can walk around with your head held high, proud to be a well-dressed, in love-looking partnership. See, your face says to anyone who’ll look, I’m well-loved.

After an hour or two he kisses your cheek and decides aloud that you need dinner. He doesn’t ask if you’re hungry, he just chooses, and you love it.

“Thank you for letting me come today,” you say, sitting across from him behind a dinner plate and a towering glass of lemon water.

“Did I let you?” he asks, distracted by his steak and fries, though he sounds as loving as usual.

“You could’ve said no.”

“I have no reason to. I like when you’re with me. Thank you for letting me bring you, then, and boring you half to death.”

“Freezing me the other half.”

“Ah, so smart, so clever,” he murmurs.

“Witty.”

“Always, aren’t you?”

You wonder about the dessert menu, find your mouth working of its own accord. “It doesn’t feel believable, sometimes. That you want me around so much.”

He pauses, resting his knife across his fork. With a free hand, he gestures to your hand. “Would you like more proof?”

You aren’t sure what he means, the tennis bracelet he got you for your first anniversary, or the engagement ring that sits heavily on your marriage finger waiting to be traded for a golden band. Maybe he means the teeny silver bracelet that falls down your arm whenever you move, that one just for fun.

“Not,” he says slowly, his eyes squinted to tell you that you’re caught, “that jewellery should be your sole proof.”

“Would you like to prove it to me now?”

He reaches over to squeeze your hand. “I want you around all of the time. If I could I’d have us sewn together at the hip.” He’s grinning, thumbing against your knuckles. “It might not be comfortable at night when you’re trying to climb all over me.”

“You climb all over me, Hotchner, don’t lie.”

Aaron nods appreciatively. “That’s right. You’re the second most important thing in my life, and that’s not your fault, only Jack is so endearing.”

“He’s a lucky kid.”

“No, he’s not,” Aaron says gently, “but I really do love him.”

“Of course he’s lucky. He has a dad who loves him to pieces, his Aunt Jess is like, superwoman, and– you know, I know I’m not the same as that, but I love him.”

“You look after him,” Aaron says.

“It’s honestly just nice that you seem to like him. You don’t act like he’s an annoyance for you, you aren’t angry to have to come out today to get him his presents.”

“Well, no. It’s not something to be angry about. When you have kids, you’re signing up for every part of having them.”

“I know.”

He takes a sip of his drink and puts it down beside your own in what you know to be him buying a little time. “Honey, is there something… I don’t know, something you want to talk about? Is it Jack's birthday…?”

You feel your heart fall into your mouth, as though it began life somewhere else, heartbeat mortified on your tongue. He sees you fluster and immediately softens, turning your hand in his to stroke along the inside of your wrist.

“Nevermind,” he says.

“No.” You clear your throat. “It’s not about Jack’s birthday. It’s just… you know you weren’t always the best father you could’ve been.”

He nods. “I do.”

“But you are now. You’ve made sacrifices, you– you chose Jack.”

“I couldn’t not.” You’re quiet. He understands. “Sweetheart, we don’t have to talk about it now. Would that be better? You can think about what you have to say, and I promise I’ll listen without judging you when you’re ready to tell me about it. Okay?” He gives your wrist a squeeze. “You aren’t upset, are you?”

“I’m just thinking.”

“Are you too distracted for dessert?”

You let Aaron pick one for you. Let him pay the bill, he’d be insulted if you even asked about splitting it, and he might genuinely get annoyed if you offered yourself. You usually love it. Someone loves you enough that money is practically immaterial. Just last month he had to have the roof of the house redone, and you know his money isn’t infinite, as does he, and yet it didn’t stop you from being spoiled, because any money he has was money shared. You know if he suddenly turned pauper he’d still spoil you, same way you’re spoiled with soft touches and less chores than you should take.

“You know I don’t think of you as my father, right?” you ask.

Aaron chokes on a startled laugh. “Of course I do,” he says, coughing, clutching your elbow.

“So if I tell you that sometimes the way you treat me reminds me of my father, you won’t take it the wrong way?”

“No.” He smiles where he should frown, wraps an arm behind your back when he should be judging you. “Men are still men. And I am a father, so it makes sense that you’d have those connotations in mind sometimes.”

“I don’t want you to be my dad, but I do wonder… I wonder if I want to be around you so much because my father didn’t want to be around me. Does that make sense?”

“I think it makes sense to wonder about it,” he says diplomatically.

You’re nearly back to the car and this is a strange place to bare your heart, but it’s not so dramatic, you suppose. “I just think that sometimes I cling to you so much, and it must be– I’m insecure about you.”

“Mm, but you have no reason to be,” he says, pulling you closer still, his fingers aligned against your ribs and warming through your layers.

“My father didn’t like me, not like you like Jack. There were things that were far more important to him. But with you, I’m important, and– and I know it’s not the same relationship, but–” You groan, not sure what you’re trying to say to him, or what you want him to understand.

“My father didn’t like me, either,” Aaron says, encouraging you to keep walking to the car. “He was not a nice person. And it absolutely affected how I feel now, even if I don’t always think about him. The way he treated me when I was young influenced the person I am now. And looking for the things I wish he was, looking for kindness, for a gentle partner, it doesn’t mean that I need a placeholder for him, does it? I know what you’re saying to me. Don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to be looked after.”

You can’t help breathing out a sigh of relief. “Right.”

“I’ve never been a young woman, and I don’t have a daughter, but it’s not hard to imagine how you felt. It’s okay to wish you’d been loved properly.”

“I was never a daddy’s girl,” you confess.

“It’s not fair. Everyone wants to be treasured when they're a kid. And it makes sense that you’re still looking for that feeling. We both know it’s not the same, but I really will look after you.” He smiles. “Okay?”

“Okay. Sorry if it’s too weird.”

“It’s not weird to want someone who takes care of you.”

You bring your hands to his face. They’re smaller than his, you’ve shorter fingers with softer palms, but they fit perfectly on his cheeks. You tease the scratchy hill of his chin with your thumb before closing your eyes, reaching up for a kiss. The bags hanging from your elbows crack, crushed as Aaron gets his hands behind your back to hold you.

“You’re too good to me,” you say softly, returning flat to your heels.

Aaron pulls your face back to kiss your cheek. “You deserve everything you get, honey. I promise.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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mahalachives · 3 days ago

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How Not to Survive an Illyrian Winter

Pairing: Azriel x Human Mate (reader)

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Summary: When a blizzard rolls through Windhaven, you learn firsthand just how brutal Illyrian winters can be—and how soft Azriel can be when it comes to you. Cold fingers, warm jackets, grumpy shadows, and one very flustered spymaster.

You'd always heard that Illyrian winters were brutal. What you hadn't realized was that "brutal" was a massive understatement.

Standing outside the war camp's central meeting hall, you hugged yourself tighter as another gust of snow-laden wind cut through your woefully inadequate cloak. When Azriel had mentioned bringing you along to Windhaven, you'd packed what you thought was appropriate winter attire.

Apparently, "winter attire" in Velaris and "winter attire" in the Illyrian Mountains were two entirely different concepts.

"It'll just be a quick meeting," he'd said with that rare, small smile that still made your heart flutter. "Wait for me outside. The camp lords get tetchy when outsiders sit in."

That was two hours ago.

Your teeth chattered so violently you worried they might crack. You'd long since lost feeling in your toes, and your fingers had progressed from painful to alarmingly numb. The snow had begun falling harder, creating white walls of wind that obscured everything beyond ten feet.

"This is f-f-fine," you muttered to yourself, stamping your feet in a futile attempt to generate warmth. "T-totally f-fine."

A passing Illyrian warrior, bundled in thick furs and leathers, shot you an incredulous look that clearly said. No, you idiot, this is not fine.

You glared back, though the effect was probably ruined by how pathetically you were shivering.

Just as you were contemplating whether it would be worse to interrupt Azriel's important meeting or to slowly freeze into a human popsicle, the door to the hall slammed open.

Azriel stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from irritation (presumably at whatever had transpired in the meeting) to absolute horror when he spotted you.

"What in the name of the Mother—" He was across the space between you in three long strides, shadows writhing agitatedly around him.

You attempted a smile. "H-hi."

"Are you—" He reached for you, then hissed when his fingers touched your cheek. "You're freezing!"

"C-curious observation, s-s-shadowsinger," you managed through chattering teeth.

The shadows around his hands seemed to darken and multiply, whispering what sounded like curses in languages you didn't recognize. For a moment, you swore they formed tiny, angry little faces that scolded the wind.

"Why didn't you go inside somewhere? Any building would have been better than standing out in this!" His voice was gentle but firm as he rapidly unfastened his heavy leather jacket.

"Y-you said wait outside the m-meeting hall."

Azriel paused in the middle of removing his jacket, those hazel eyes widening. "I meant wait outside the meeting, not outside in a blizzard!"

You blinked snowflakes from your lashes. "Oh."

With a noise that was half exasperation and half concern, he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around you. Instantly, delicious warmth enveloped you – the leather practically radiated heat, the blue siphons embedded in the shoulders glowing subtly.

"You enchanted your jacket?" you asked, already feeling the painful tingle of circulation returning to your extremities.

"Of course I did. It's the Illyrian Mountains in winter," he said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. His shadows continued their angry whispers, now seemingly directed at you.

"Are your shadows... lecturing me?"

A hint of color touched his cheeks. "They're concerned."

"They sound cranky."

"They hate seeing you in distress," he muttered, the admission clearly costing him something. Before you could tease him further, he bent and swept you into his arms as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

You squeaked in surprise. "Azriel! Put me down! I can walk!"

"Your lips are blue, your clothes are soaked through, and you've probably lost feeling in your feet," he countered, already striding through the snow. His massive wings unfurled partially to shield you from the worst of the wind. "So no, you cannot walk."

The few Illyrians out braving the storm quickly stepped aside, their expressions ranging from amusement to outright shock at seeing their intimidating spymaster carrying a shivering human through camp.

One brave warrior called out something in their native tongue that made Azriel's ears redden.

"What did he say?" you asked, snuggling deeper into the wonderful warmth of his jacket.

"Nothing important," Azriel replied too quickly.

You poked his chest. "Liar."

His lips twitched. "He said I've gone soft."

"Well, your jacket is very soft," you agreed, deliberately misunderstanding. "The big bad shadowsinger has a comfortable jacket. Shocking."

That earned you a rare chuckle as he pushed open the door to a small cabin with his foot. Inside was blessedly warm, a fire already crackling in the hearth.

He set you down gently on a chair near the fire, kneeling to remove your soaked boots. "You need to get out of these wet clothes."

When you waggled your eyebrows suggestively, he gave you a flat look. "Not like that."

"Spoilsport," you teased, but your attempt at humor was ruined by another violent shiver.

His expression sobered instantly. "You could have gotten seriously ill." His scarred hands cradled your frozen ones with infinite gentleness. "Why didn't you find shelter?"

"You told me to wait," you said simply. "I didn't want to miss you."

Something in his expression softened, and the shadows around him stilled their frantic movement. "Next time, assume that 'don't freeze to death' is implied in all of my instructions."

"I'll make a note of that," you promised, your lips curving into a smile as feeling returned to your face.

He disappeared into another room, returning with a pile of blankets and dry clothes that would clearly swallow you whole. "These will be too big, but they're warm."

As he helped you change – turning his back with endearing propriety when necessary – you couldn't help but observe, "Your shadows are still grumbling."

"They're saying I should have checked on you sooner." His voice was quiet, laced with guilt. "They sensed your discomfort but couldn't reach me through the wards in the meeting hall."

"Well, tell them I'm fine now. Just a bit chilly."

He raised an eyebrow. "'A bit chilly' doesn't turn someone's lips blue."

Once you were bundled in dry clothes and wrapped in multiple blankets, he sat beside you, hesitating only briefly before putting an arm around you.

"Your shadows are still muttering," you pointed out, leaning into his solid warmth.

"They're arguing about whether to tell Cassian."

You straightened in alarm. "Don't you dare. He'll never let me live it down."

The corner of Azriel's mouth lifted. "I think they're more concerned with whether he'll let me live it down for leaving my... for leaving you in a blizzard."

You caught that little slip, that unfinished word that hung between you, and tucked it away to examine later. "Your what, exactly?"

His wings shifted behind him – a nervous tell you'd begun to recognize. "My responsibility," he said finally.

"Hmm." You settled more comfortably against him. "Well, tell your shadows that if they snitch to Cassian, I'll find a way to make them regret it."

To your delight, the shadows actually seemed to recoil slightly, curling back toward Azriel's hands.

"They're suddenly reconsidering," he said, and you swore you could hear amusement in his voice.

"Good." You yawned, the warmth and safety making your eyelids heavy. "I'm very intimidating, you know."

"Terrifying," he agreed, his arm tightening around you. "Especially when you're blue with cold and buried under every blanket I own."

"Exactly," you mumbled, sleep beginning to claim you. "The most fearsome creature in all of Prythian."

As you drifted off, you felt the gentle press of lips against your temple and heard him whisper, "To me, you certainly are."

Outside, the wind howled, but you were warm, safe, and held by an Illyrian warrior whose shadows had finally stopped scolding the weather and started singing you to sleep instead. End.

Author's Note: Just a little snowy slice of fluff starring everyone's favorite brooding shadowsinger and a very cold (but very stubborn) you. May the shadows always bring you blankets. 💙❄️

#acotar #azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you

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shibuyablonde · 2 days ago

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seven minutes katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: As he lies dying, his mind drifts through seven memories.

This is my own take of this piece I saw. Go show them some support.

By the time the blood starts pooling beneath him, Bakugo already knows.

He’s not making it out of this.

The sky above is black smoke and large storm clouds, but his eyes are wide open. His chest feels too tight, too heavy, like his body is holding him down while the last few pieces of his soul try to fight their way out.

The rivet drill is still there, buried deep, pinning him to the earth like an insect on display.

He doesn’t feel it anymore.

Not really. Only the weight.

Seven minutes.

That’s what they say happens when you’re dying. Your brain floods you with the best parts of your life as it crumbles, like a parting gift before the lights go out.

Bakugo doesn’t want to see anything.

He wants to get back up. But he can’t.

So he lies there, stuck in his skin, and lets the minutes drag him under.

Minute 1

It’s not the day All Might saved him from the sludge villain, surprisingly.

It’s before that. Way before.

He’s four years old, sitting on the floor in front of their old TV.

His feet are bare, legs crossed, and his hands are sticky with orange popsicle.

All Might is on the screen, smiling that massive, dumb smile.

“Everything is fine now! Why? Because I am here!”

He can’t read the news crawl at the bottom yet, but he knows the words.

He’s memorized them. He can hear his tiny self chanting along.

His mom is standing behind him, folding laundry.

“You’ll be a great hero someday,” she says, like she doesn’t even think about it. Like it’s already true.

But he hears it.

And he believes her.

Minute 2

His old man is in this one.

Bakugo almost laughs, but it gets caught in the blood bubbling up in his throat.

He’s six, maybe.

There’s a thunderstorm outside. His mom’s at work late.

The lights in the apartment flicker out.

And he panics.

He hides under the table, his tiny hands clenched in his hair, breathing hard. His dad tries to get him out, kneeling on the kitchen floor with a flashlight, but he won’t move.

Finally, his dad crawls under with him.

“You hear that?” he says quietly.

Bakugo just stares at him.

“The thunder. That’s what you sound like when you use your quirk.”

Bakugo sniffs.

His dad presses the flashlight into his hands. “That loud? That strong? That’s you, Katsuki.”

It’s dumb, but it works.

They sit under the table together until the lights come back on.

Minute 3

It’s Deku. Of course, it’s dumb Deku.

But not the way Bakugo expects.

He’s not crying or whining, not the useless little nerd he remembers from when they were kids.

This memory’s recent.

It’s the day Bakugo apologized.

His hands shake when he says it. “I’m sorry.”

For everything.

For being a piece of shit.

For bullying him when they were kids.

For not understanding how hard Deku must’ve had it.

Deku stares at him for a long time. Then he smiles. And Bakugo hates him for it because it makes his chest hurt in a different way.

“It’s okay,” Deku says. “You’ve always been my hero.”

Minute 4

And then there’s you.

It’s stupid how fast you fill up his head.

He didn’t even realize how much space you took until now.

He’s sitting on the dorm balcony at U.A., his back against the wall, picking at the scar on his hand.

You come out and sit beside him without asking. You’re wearing his hoodie because you lost a bet with Kirishima, and he made you put it on. It swamps you. The sleeves are too long. And the hem pools and your thighs.

“Do you always scowl this much when you’re alone?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer.

But you stay.

And when you finally leave, his hoodie is still on you.

He tells himself he doesn’t care.

But he doesn’t ask for it back.

Minute 5

This one is louder, muffled, but there.

There’s music playing.

You’re at the training gym with everyone, but you’re the only one dancing like an idiot during cool-down stretches.

You’re singing along, off-key, way too loud, and your hair is stuck to your forehead because you’ve been sweating your ass off.

“Come on, Bakugo,” you say, grinning at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t dance.”

“Hell no.”

“Coward.”

You challenge him to a spar after that. And you almost win.

He cheats, grabbing your ankle when you flip him.

You laugh when you land on him, breathless and bright, and your fingers poke his ribs.

“Admit it,” you tell him, “you’re having fun.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But he is.

Minute 6

It’s winter.

You hate the cold, much like Bakugo, so you’re bundled up like a snowman, your nose tickled red, your hands shoved deep within your pockets.

He notices you don’t have gloves. He doesn’t say anything at first.

But when you’re not looking, he blasts his palms warm and presses them over your fingers.

You jump in your seat.

Then you laugh.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning into him without asking.

He doesn’t move away.

You fall asleep on his shoulder on the train ride home.

When you wake up, he’s still holding your hand.

Minute 7

The last minute is the worst.

Because he’s still here.

And you’re still here.

You’re screaming his name.

You’re running toward him through the rubble and the smoke and the bodies.

You hit the ground on your knees next to him, hands covered in his blood.

He can’t hear what you’re saying.

But he can feel your fingers on his face.

They’re shaking.

You’re crying. You don't cry, but you are now.

And it’s for him.

He wants to tell you not to. To wipe those shitty tears of your beautiful face.

He wants to tell you he was going to ask you out after the war.

He wants to tell you he was going to walk you home. That he was going to hold your hand without an excuse.

That he was going to kiss you, maybe, if you let him.

But his heart’s not working anymore.

And his mouth won’t move.

So he stares at you instead, memorizing your face for the last time.

You’re the last thing he sees.

And that’s good enough for him.

Because he loved you. And he never got to say it.

But maybe you’ll know anyway.

Seven minutes, and then it’s over.

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cherrygirlfriend · 14 hours ago

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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ cuffing season

pairing: reader x bsf!rafe synopsis: reader isn't getting enough attention from rafe, so she has the bright idea to cuff herself to him. warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, MDNI! - wc: 1.7k a/n; i’ve lowkey been depressed and uninspired lately so i might just post my old content for a bit. anyway; originally posted 12/14/2024

bsf!masterlist ♡ rafe masterlist ♡

every man smarter than a fifth grader knows one thing for a fact; women thrive on attention. when you ignore a flower, leaving it in the shade, unwatered for days, it wilts up and dies. and you may have well been a gardenia in your past life with how much attention you required. and you? you were definitely wilting up.

it had been two weeks since you last saw rafe; you'd texted him, trying to make plans, but he kept saying how 'busy' he was, or telling you to buy something nice, and it'd be "his treat". what use were cute clothes and sexy lingerie when there was no one to show them off to?

to be fair, he really was busy. you preferred to keep yourself in the dark when it came to rafe's business, simply humming a song inside your head when he talked business with someone while you were sitting in his lap, but you knew he spent most of his time cooped up in his father's old office, but now, he was barely answering your texts, and you decided enough was enough.

so, one night you decided to surprise him. to help him... destress.

you put on one of the new lingerie sets you'd gotten on rafe's dime, wearing nothing over it but the classic/cliché beige trenchcoat, a surprise in your pocket.

you got out of the uber in front of the cameron household, your heels clicking against the cobblestone as you walked up to the door. normally, you'd ring the doorbell, but not wanting to ruin the surprise, you took the key rafe had given to you for 'emergencies', in this case it really was an emergency. you felt like you might die if he didn't touch you.

kicking the heels off your feet when you got inside, you looked around; the house you'd spent time in ever since you were both kids was always so strange in the dark. and now that rafe was the only one living there, the house felt... lifeless.

as you tiptoed up the stairs, you were starting to hear rafe's heated voice, sending shivers down your spine, a small heat in the pit of your stomach starting to spread as you got closer to the door, slightly ajar.

"i don't fucking care what you need to do, just get it done!" he shouted, and you could hear the springs of the office chair, before a breathy sigh left his lips.

"rafe?" you said softly, the man you were looking for startling straight in his chair, looking at you with wide eyes as you stood in the crack of the door.

"oh..." he let out a breath, relaxing again, "it's just you."

"wow!" you scoffed playfully, "what a nice way to greet me." you said as you made your way into the room, walking closer to him, a small grin starting to spread on his lips.

"what are you doing here?" he asked, looking up at you, bringing one of your hands to his lips, pressing small kisses to the back of it, "did i miss a text telling you were coming? if i did, i'm sorry, i've been on the phone for the-"

"shh." you moved your hand to cover his mouth, rafe's brows raising in amusement. "i didn't text you."

he took your hand away from his mouth, "ah, so a surprise visit. well, i hate to disappoint you, but-"

the moment your coat hit the floor, his jaw seemed to be doing the same, the smile on your lips only widening further as you spun around for him, pretending to show off the lingerie instead of tempting him.

"what do you think?" you smiled innocently, "you told me to get something nice, your treat, so i did. i thought you'd wanna see it. oh, by the way, the coat was also on you."

"shit..." his hands found your hips, and you could hear him swallow as he watched the way your ass curved around the thong. you turned your head to look at him, noticing the growing bulge in his pants, "if i didn't have to finish this right now... the things i'd do..."

you turned your body around fully to face him, a small frown on your face as you brought your arms in front of your chest, his hands still resting on your hips. "rafe cameron, you have a half-naked woman standing in front of you, and all you're worried about is work! i need attention too!"

rafe let out a breath he felt like he had been holding in for the past two weeks, "baby, just give me thirty minutes to finish-"

but you didn't even give him three seconds. before he'd even noticed anything, you'd grabbed the pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs out of your coat's pocket, cuffing one around rafe's wrist, and one around yours, the man looking at you with wide eyes.

"what the hell?!" he exclaimed as he stood up, now cuffed to you.

"no 'thirty minutes', no 'fifteen minutes', no more minutes!" you exclaimed, now looking up at him, "i've been missing you for two weeks, and if you make me wait one more second to have your lips on mine, i'm never letting you touch me aga-!"

before you could finish your sentence, rafe had pulled you to his chest, his lips crashing against yours, his lips conveying the yearning he'd been feeling for the past two weeks, mixing in with the yearning you'd felt, pure electricity transferring between the two of you, his body melding into yours, his erection pressing against your.

when you finally pulled apart, the harsh breaths you were letting out mixing in with his, your bodies, and a string of saliva still connecting you.

"you have no idea how much i've wanted you..." he breathed out, causing you to let out a small chuckle.

"me? you have no idea how much i've been craving you."

you pushed him until he was sitting in the chair, the springs of the office chair squeaking, rafe's brows lifted in surprise. you bent slightly to pull down the sweatpants he'd been wearing with your free hand, before you settled yourself onto his lap, feeling his erection through his calvin kleins.

"oh? are you taking control?" he asked in a playful tone as you ground yourself against his bulge, causing him to let out a groan, his a small wet patch already forming on his boxers as you continued grinding yourself against him.

you'd spent the past two weeks needily humping yourself against a plushie rafe had given you, watching videos you two had taken together, and even though you were only grinding your clothed cunt against his clothed cock, you knew that your moments spent alone had nothing on the moments you got to spend with him.

"i need you..." you whispered into his ear, tugging down his boxers, rafe letting out a small hiss as his erection was freed, your lips sucking on the sensitive spot on his ear, a beautiful whimper leaving his lips.

"i need you even more." he said, in turn tugging down the panties you were wearing before his free hand went to your tits, cupping and squeezing them through your bra.

"wanna bet?"

you brought your cuffed hand to his, rafe's free hand on his cock, gathering some of the wetness at your entrance with his tip, and you could picture it mixing in with his precum as he brought the tip of his cock to your entrance, and he was so close, but somehow it felt like you were both in whole different universes.

"i'm sorry..." rafe mumbled, intertwining your fingers, "i promise i'll pay more attention to you... i've just been so busy..."

"i don't ca-"

your sentence was interrupted when you felt his tip enter you, both of you letting out similar groans.

"fuck... has your pussy somehow gotten even tighter, huh? it feels so nice n snug around me, baby..."

"maybe she's just missed daddy..." you sink even further down his cock, rafe letting out groans that were so similar to the first time you two ever had sex, his eyes fixed on you as you sunk lower and lower on his cock until you felt him right there, causing you to let out a gasp.

"looks like she has..." rafe chuckled, bringing his free hand to your hips, as well as the hand intertwined with yours, "you wanna help daddy, hm?" he chuckled, but you were too drunk on the feeling of him in you, under you, around you, to even react to his teasings, so rafe started to move you on his cock, helping you with his hips and his hands.

soon, you were bouncing on his cock without even really realizing what was happening. his cuffed hand was still intertwined with yours, both of them pressed against your hips, as his free hand held onto you, rafe basically guiding you on him, at least until his free hand moved closer to your tummy, his thumb pressed against your clit, slowly circling it, but even without his guidance, your hips knew the rhythm, knew exactly what to do.

your head was thrown back, completely lost in the ecstasy, rafe's touch the only thing you could feel, every time the head of his cock hit your cervix, every circle he drew on your clit with his thumb, and before you even realized it, you were moaning and practically panting his name uncontrollably, the squeeze of your wall around his cock causing rafe to let out grunts as you felt the knot in your stomach finally coming undone.

but as rafe continued fucking up into you, you knew he was nowhere near done with you.

"how does three orgasms sound?" rafe chuckled, lifting his hips with slightly more vigor, the man hitting your cervix right in the middle of your orgasm, squeezing your cuffed hand. "that enough attention for you?"

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jungwnies · 2 days ago

Text

sfw alphabet | max verstappen (mv1)

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for max verstappen

୨ৎ : word count : 1483

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

not overly affectionate in public, but very touchy in private

loves casual touches...

like a hand on your back, fingers playing with yours, resting his arm around you

shows love in quiet, consistent ways rather than big romantic gestures

instinctively reaches for your hand or pulls you closer in his sleep

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

chaotic, competitive, and fiercely loyal as a friend

will challenge you to literally everything (even things you don’t care about)

loves to tease and roast you, but in a way that’s lowkey affectionate

likely met through mutual friends or the f1 world, but once he trusts you, you’re stuck with him

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

selective cuddler tbh

only cuddles when he’s in the mood or exhausted

prefers being the big spoon but will let you lay on his chest when he’s feeling soft

loves lazy couch cuddles after long days, usually while watching something

if he falls asleep on you?

good luck moving...he’s not letting go

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

100% sees himself settling down but probably later in life

absolutely useless in the kitchen...will either burn something or order food

not messy, but not overly tidy

his version of "clean" is "organized chaos"

will attempt to help with chores but gets distracted easily

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

hates confrontation but wouldn’t ghost you, he’d be direct

tries to keep it short and emotionless, but if he really loves you, he’ll struggle

might distance himself beforehand to prepare for it

avoids drama, doesn’t believe in dragging things out once a decision is made

bro wants to be "nonchalant" but the nonchalant def isn't in the room with us LMFAO

f ⤖ fiance (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

i think we ALL know this man is NOT in a rush to get married

but he definitely takes commitment seriously

if he’s all in, he’s all in

wouldn’t rush marriage but once he knows, he knows

doesn’t care about a huge wedding, but he’d want it to be private and meaningful

would probably propose in a low-key, intimate moment rather than something flashy

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

physically? very gentle when it matters, especially with you

emotionally? a bit rough around the edges but gets softer over time

will check in on you in his own way, even if it’s just “did you eat?”

protective rather than soft

he expresses care through actions rather than words

h ⤖ hugs (does he likes hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

not a big hugger with most people, but with you, it’s different

back hugs are his thing

he’ll wrap his arms around you randomly

hugs you tighter when he’s stressed, like he needs to recharge

quick shoulder squeezes when he’s busy but still wants to show affection

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

takes his time

won’t say it unless he truly means it

might show it through actions first before actually saying the words

when he finally says it, it’s unexpected but sincere

prefers proving it over saying it constantly

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

competitive by nature, so he gets lowkey jealous but won’t admit it

if another guy is flirting with you, he’ll hover nearby and make his presence known

gets grumpy and sulky, but instead of arguing, he’ll just claim you with casual touches

if it really bothers him, he’ll confront you privately but won’t cause a scene

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

slow and deep kisses rather than rushed pecks

loves forehead kisses when he’s feeling soft

jawline/neck kisses are his go-to when he’s feeling playful

likes when you kiss his shoulder or temple

it makes him feel secure

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

surprisingly good with kids (penelope literally loves him), but he’ll never admit it

would be a fun dad but also slightly panicked when they cry

gets super competitive even in kid’s games...will not let them win on purpose

protective over his own kids, will be the type to coach their karting career if they’re interested

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

not a morning person unless it’s race day

grumpy and groggy for the first 15 minutes... prob longer than that tbh

needs coffee before human interaction

if you wake up before him, expect a sleepy arm pulling you back to bed

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

winds down with gaming or watching sports

loves quiet moments

just being next to you is enough

gets weirdly philosophical late at night

sleeps better when you’re beside him

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

takes time to open up

he’s naturally guarded let's blame jos for this

won’t talk about feelings unless he trusts you completely

expresses emotions through actions more than words

if he does open up, it’s late at night when he’s relaxed

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

short temper, especially under stress

gets frustrated quickly but calms down just as fast

easily annoyed by small things, but he’s not one to hold grudges

if he gets mad at you, he needs a moment alone to cool off

bro is just a chill guy ... but he definitely has his moments lmfao

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

surprisingly good memory

remembers random facts about you

might forget small things like dates, but remembers what actually matters

can recall your order at any restaurant

will bring up something you said months ago, proving he listens more than you think

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

probably the first time he realized he wanted to be with you seriously

a moment when you comforted him after a rough race

some random, quiet memory that doesn’t seem big but means a lot to him

s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

very protective but not overbearing

keeps an arm around you in crowded places

will 100% throw hands if someone disrespects you

prepares for every situation

makes sure you’re safe before himself

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

not a grand gesture kind of guy, but he makes an effort in his own way

remembers important dates, but don’t expect anything over-the-top

his idea of a good date is something fun and casual

like karting, a race weekend getaway, or a quiet dinner

when he gets you gifts, they’re usually thoughtful and practical rather than extravagant

u ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

terrible at texting back

sometimes leaves you on read for hours (or days)

stubborn as hell...once he’s made up his mind, good luck changing it

can be emotionally closed off, struggles to talk about feelings

terrible at sitting still

always fidgeting, moving, or doing something

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

lowkey vain without admitting it

takes care of his appearance but acts like he doesn’t care

hates bad hair days...if it’s not sitting right, he gets annoyed

wears team gear constantly, even outside of f1 events

secretly likes when you compliment his looks, even though he plays it cool

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

wouldn’t admit it easily, but yes, you’re a huge part of his life

when you’re apart, he gets restless

doesn’t know what to do with himself

hates sleeping alone once he’s used to having you around

if you ever broke up, he’d pretend he’s fine but would be absolutely miserable

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

obsessed with winning at everything

even dumb games like mario kart

takes you on late-night drives just to clear his mind

collects race helmets like trophies and would 100% gift you one of his as a sentimental gesture

gets pouty when you beat him at something, but secretly loves that you challenge him-

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

hates unnecessary drama

if you’re constantly picking fights, he’ll check out fast

doesn’t like overly clingy behavior, needs his personal space sometimes

fake people piss him off

he values honesty above all

dislikes when people try too hard to impress him...he def prefers authenticity

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

moves a lot in his sleep

sometimes ends up half on top of you without realizing

needs to sleep in complete darkness, otherwise he gets annoyed

prefers falling asleep with you next to him bc he finds it comforting

if you wake up before him and try to leave, he’ll instinctively pull you back into bed

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naranjapetrificada · 3 days ago

Text

Specifically about the racefakery:

I'm primarily seeing the conversation around All This focus on plagiarism (which makes sense) but I wanted to say some things as one of the handful of Black people I'm aware of that hang out around here:

1. Discord makes my brain itch and I've been afraid to go to OFMD bluesky after how bad OFMD twitter was, so I'm often one of so few Black people on here that you can count us one hand. I wasn't especially close with Atticus but I did like knowing that someone else was gonna be loud about racist Ed takes from a "position of authority" as it were. That knowledge made shit feel a lot less lonely over here and this motherfucker took that from me. That's what I feel betrayed about. That's what pisses me off about the racefaking in particular. Things are now unequivocally going to be harder for me around here than they were before and I hate that he was able to put me in this position.

2. I'm not aware of if he plagiarized any of my fics because they're mostly 100% canon compliant or in one case, too weird to effectively copy, but I'll never know because 100+ middling fics is too many to check through. I'm okay not knowing because the stilted way he wrote about Ed's hair and Ed's race are not things I wish to subject myself to anymore. But for the record, his fics are one of the places where the racefakery shows the most imo because writing makes you tell on yourself in unanticipated ways.

3. Maybe this next point will get me blocked by even more white people in this fandom but here we go anyway. I've struggled to come up with a more diplomatic way of saying "white people are too polite/conflict averse" but like, white people are too polite/conflict averse. This has literally come up in this exact fandom before, around a less fraught issue but still. It had ugly fallout then and it's had ugly fallout now, and while I understand not wanting to come at somebody you perceive as a person of color where everyone could see it, I do wish we had an environment where people who did have suspicions about him could have come forward. The amount of harm he was able to do is directly proportional to the amount of time and space he had to do it, and even before you start talking about the racefaking he was up to shady shit that I certainly had no idea was going on. Which leads to my next point.

4. I can recall a couple times where my race-related spidey senses tingled, but any unease I had was easily lost in the constant din of race-related shit that comes with my existence both in and out of fan spaces. To borrow from scarrletmoon (I miss having you here!) it's like background radiation. Also, there was always the "maybe it's just bad writing" excuse, or the "it's not my place to say but the way he writes about Judaism isn't quite like the way Jews I know talk about it" excuse. There was my (continued) inability to imagine why some white person would bother, because no amount of clout is worth what it's like to be Black on the internet. There was also probably some kind of aversion I had to the idea of losing "one of us" on here, which honestly might be something he was preying on but it's not productive for me to try to get inside the mind of someone who would do what he's done.

And if I was falling into those particular traps (around the racefaking in particular) myself, there's no way the rest of y'all could have known anything was up. Certainly not in isolation. Now I can't help but wonder if being seen interacting with me gave him some kind of legitimacy in any of your eyes, which is lowkey horrifying if true.

Anyway, those are the things I have to say now, after processing for a bit. It's still not worth my sanity to spend more than 30 seconds at a time looking at Discord, where I know a lot of this sort of thing gets discussed, but I can't help but wish I'd known about this sooner.

#pccp wtf #la fandom es dolor #being a fandom is suffering #what's done is done #but i wish it had gone differently

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troycattribunny · 15 hours ago

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i said this before; it's because they're in discords with minors. And not "they're grooming minors" they are in fandom discords where minors are the majority. Minors are the mod team, they are making the rules and these adults don't realize the amount of power they have over children even in positions of "authority" because to them they are "one of the kids". That's why they act like that, they really can't ACT like adults around children because only a third of the mod team are adults and the owner of the server is 16 and made all the rules and "we have a NSFW channel that adults can access (and so can children, but we can't say that) what other adult spaces do you need?"

And I'm not saying you can't be in fandom discord servers with children, I would encourage it but you have to also be in adult servers. Not NSFW servers, servers DOMINATED by adults. I think that's what a lot of grooming allegations are coming from, adults have been "a child" for so long they forget they are adults so when they "develop feelings" for these kids they don't think "oh I'm a pedophile" they think "oh I'm one of their peers". This is especially true when I see call outs for adults (21) dating a minor mod (16) the adult somehow FORGOT they were an adult and technically the child has authority over them so it's not grooming... right? (It still is)

I see this in their posts, too. They talk in a certain way. It's not "adult acting like a teen to be cringe and having fun" way its "this is how I write because I'm used to having to dumb myself down so I can talk to teens."

When I was working with children I had been in adult only online spaces since I was 18 and the way I was speaking to the kids was too advanced to them (because again child, adult). I was having to change the way I was speaking.

And these interactions were mostly offline at work, but these adults probably don't work with children often offline and most of these adults probably only get their social interactions online (which is fair, my rl friend hasn't responded to me reaching out either, we're both busy). I loved my kids but if I wasn't getting paid to be near them I would literally have wandered off and talked to the adults for hours instead.

All I'm saying is make some adult friends, and if you see an adult acting like that maybe literally say "You are 30. What the fuck are you doing?" They might remember they are 30.

Like no one hates you for acting 15. But are you ACTING 15 or do you think you are 15?

you ever have situations that make you want to take people by the shoulders and go "you are not 15 any longer. this behavior is no longer quirky and cute. it is exhausting for you and everyone else to act like a teenager you haven't been in a decade or longer. knock it the fuck off"

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luveline · 22 hours ago

Note

HEY JADE I HOPE UR DOING WELL ILY

im curious to hear ur thoughts on what an interaction between zombie!au steve and reader would look like had the apocalypse not happened. would she fly completely under his radar like in high school or would he be interested in getting to know her?? we know she knew who he was pre-apocalypse but does she really care? i keep thinking about what would happen if she walked into family video one day and if he would hit on her or not lmao

hi I love you! zombie au (ish) | fem, 1.3k

Voices force Steve’s attention.

“I’ll be five minutes!”

“Two minutes or I’m driving off without you!”

Steve’s more familiar with the second one. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his creaky shit van idling on the curb outside of the store. That sheds some light on the first voice —one of the club members. Or, honorary club members? When Steve decides to be kind and drive Dustin home in the winter after his games, you can be seen occasionally sitting on stoops waiting for Eddie to finish.

Who knew The Freak could get a girlfriend? That makes Steve being single even sadder.

You say something else. Eddie laughs. “Do you want popcorn or not?” you quip.

“Why, are you paying for it?”

“Not for you I’m not.”

“You got a minute and counting.”

“If you drive off without me, you can forget about Friday night.”

Steve angles his head to watch you through the open door. Summer heat has made a mess of Munson’s hair where he’s leaning toward the open door. You’re holding the car door, in a light chequered dress with bows on the shoulders and the cutest pair of socks and buckled shoes. How the fuck does Eddie get a girl like that? Also, Steve’s been wondering, where the fuck did you come from? Clearly you went to Hawkins High, and when Robin told him that he swore he could remember you, but there’s nothing in his head. It’s like Robin all over again, in the same homeroom for two years and he didn’t know she was awesome until the summer after high school ended.

“Can you just go get your fucking movie so we can go?”

You’re still glaring when you turn around, but you’re quiet as you edge into Family Video. “Jerk,” you mouth to yourself, taking a quick cut to the slasher moves at the back. You don’t spend much time browsing, Steve can see from the back that it’s Day of the Dead. You emerge and head to the blockbusters.

You catch Steve watching at the desk.

He knows he doesn’t have a chance, you already have a boyfriend, so all he says is, “Let me know if you need any help.”

You smile weakly and turn back.

Maybe he wasn’t nice to you. He can’t remember, is the thing. He was such a jerk, Tommy and Carol were such jerks.

He’s not a miserable person, but he does hate himself more often than not. It’s easier because he actually has friends who love him. Robin might give him shit every day, but she’s the first person to teach him what being loved feels like, and it makes him better. He’s less cruel, less quick to anger, less selfish. But Steve knows he isn’t completely kind or patient in turn. He’s a fuck up. He’s nearly twenty three working for $4.50 in an hour with no degree and no prospects and—

“Hey,” you say, setting three tapes down on the desk.

“Hey.” He clears his throat. “Is this everything?”

You look vaguely embarrassed to ask, “Do you guys still do the bags of popcorn, do you know?”

“Sure, they’re by the window, let me just–”

“That’s okay, I’ll get it.”

You speed walk for the popcorn. Steve finds himself with a weirdly dry mouth as you reach for one, swallowing hard as you make your way back. It’s just the one bag of popcorn after all. Eddie must’ve really pissed you off.

Steve rings up your movies. The barcode on Pretty in Pink won’t work. He opens the window and starts to type it in with his keyboard.

Outside, someone lays on the horn for three long beeps.

“I’m real sorry about him,” you say, letting out a breathy, nearly-timid laugh.

“Is he always like that?”

“Every day of his life.”

Steve works in customer service. He has mastered the art of the polite smile. “I don’t think you should put up with it. Nice girl like you,” he says lightly.

“That’s what friends are for, right?” you say with chagrin.

Steve glances over your shoulder. Just friends? Who the fuck would put up with Eddie voluntarily? Steve understands that love isn’t a choice, but if you’re not even kissing to soften the blow of things, you’re just crazy.

He slides your tapes back to you. “How long did you want them for, just the one night?”

“Two, please.”

“Awesome, can I have a phone number and address?”

You give them.

Steve uses his employee discount and doesn’t really know why as he clicks it out. “It’s four dollars when you’re ready.”

You take the swing purse from your hip and clip it open, pulling out a ten dollar bill. “He’s not totally mean,” you say, “I know he seems rude. But that’s just his character.”

“Sure.”

You offer him the ten dollars, shifting around on your shoes, eyes over his shoulder toward the back. You seem a little put off by him. He really must’ve been mean to you. Maybe he laughed when Carol called you names. Maybe he ignored you as he put himself in Nancy Wheeler’s path.

“Steve?”

He looks up in surprise, still counting your change out. It should be easy, except he doesn’t have a five dollar bill in the register, and he had three one dollars, so he’s counting quarters he’ll have to apologise for. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He pauses. “I’m good. Why?”

You gesture to your eye. “You have a cut. Did you get hurt?”

“This? This is nothing. I threw Robin, you know Robin? Robin Buckley? She’s going to college, she actually already left, but I threw her a surprise going away party. When everybody yelled ’surprise’ she sort of panicked and her ring caught me.” He chews his lip. “Yeah, I’m fine though.”

“Oh, shit. Eddie’s going to do this internship thing in Michigan at the end of the week, I hope he doesn’t get me with his rings when I give him his goodbye present.”

“Lot of rings.”

“Right? He’ll blind me.”

Steve startles both of you when he laughs heartily, grabbing the remainder of your change and shutting the register tightly. “Can’t let that happen.”

“So we both find ourselves without best friends for the autumn,” you say, holding out your hand for your change. “Maybe if you’re bored, you can call me. We can go to the movies or something.”

“You’re serious?”

“How else do you make friends?” you ask. “If you don’t wanna be my friend that’s fine, I’m putting you on the spot, just don’t call me, but my number’s in there.”

“And when you come back to return the movies, and I still haven’t called, that won’t be awkward at all,” he says wryly, teasingly, enjoying the way your face has changed. He wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re flirting, but your smile is something else.

“So… call me?” you ask quietly, grabbing your movies, your popcorn, and waiting for an answer.

Steve thinks that sounds more like a date being planned than a burgeoning friendship, and his grin probably shows that. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll call you. We’ll go to the movies.”

You’re decidedly quick as you escape the store, rushing down off the curb and upto Eddie’s van. You open the door and climb in fast, Steve only hears a snippet of your conversation as Eddie turns the engine back on.

“What the hell?”

“What?”

“I fucking knew you had a crush on that jerk! Look at your face!”

“Shut up, can we go?” you hiss. “This is why I didn’t get you any popcorn.”

“This is why you can't come to Michigan.”

Steve presses the back of his hand to his cheek as the van leaves the parking lot. He’s hot as a burning hearth. Probably red as one too. God, who are you? Where have you been this entire time? You might’ve just saved Steve’s life. (Or, his social life.)

—

I was curious and maybe this is like an au of the au and it’s not as cute as I wanted it to be but I think they’d accidentally trap themselves in the friends box for a while trying to survive being without their best friends together and Steve still falls slowly, I was gonna make this a bit longer but I thought I won’t bother unless it’s something people really want cos there’s a few requests I wanna do soon!! thank you for requesting

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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wingedhallows · 2 days ago

Text

— LOOSE TONGUES —

CHAPTER THREE

— ₊˚⊹♡ PAIRING ; 3.2k words vi!basketball jockey x reader!ballerina — ₊˚⊹♡ SYNOPSIS : There was something there—something unspoken, something undeniable. But in one careless moment, it all fell apart. Words were said, pride got in the way, and now she’s left with nothing but regret. She wants to fix it. She has to. Now, Vi is determined to fix what she broke. She’ll do anything—everything—to prove she didn’t mean it. But pride is a stubborn thing, and second chances don’t come easy. Can she turn the tide before it’s too late? Or has she already lost what she never had the courage to claim?

♡ navigation ♡

¸.*☆*.¸ CHAPTER INDEX ¸.*☆*.¸

— ₊˚⊹♡ TAG, YOU'RE IT

let me know below or send me a message and i'll add you to the taglist! :)

“—and her hair is so soft, god. I’d love to wrap it around my hand while we—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut it.”

Vi scowls into her coffee, stirring it with far more aggression than necessary as she cuts Ellie off, it annoys her how well Ellie’s flirting with Margot is going. The heat licking up her neck has nothing to do with the drink in her hands.

Ellie smirks, tilting her head just enough to make it clear—she’s enjoying this. Mocking her. Dragging it out like she knows exactly how deep this frustration runs.

“No need to be snappy, Vi. It’s your own damn fault your birdie thinks you hate her.”

The words hit their mark, sinking in like claws. Vi’s grip on the cup tightens, jaw clenching as she shoots Ellie a glare—one sharp enough to make anyone else squirm.

But not Ellie. And certainly not Abby, who only grins before taking an infuriatingly slow sip of her coffee.

“Exactly. You couldn’t just admit you’re completely gone for her, huh? Now you get to pine. And grovel.”

Vi exhales sharply through her nose. That one lands too.

Pine. And grovel.

The humiliation creeps up her spine, settling into something ugly in her chest. Her first instinct is to deny it—to lean into her usual stubbornness, let her pride save her like it always does.

But for once, she doesn’t.

Instead, she sighs, heavy and resigned, as if finally admitting defeat. Her fingers absently stir the coffee again, watching the way the liquid swirls, like it might hold the answer to this whole fucking mess.

“Pine and grovel,” she mutters, echoing Abby’s words.

Because she knows they’re right.

She knows she fucked up.

But making you see how much she actually adores you? That’s not as easy as it should be.

In your presence, all of her bravado, all of her confidence—gone. Completely fucking gone. And in its place? Awkwardness. Stammering. A heat that burns high on her cheeks, betraying every last carefully built defense she has.

But, christ—she has to have you.

Her fingers tighten around the cup as she finally, finally lets the words slip past her lips.

“I like her a lot.”

It’s quiet, almost swallowed by the café’s background noise, but Ellie hears it. She hears it and grins like the smug bastard she is.

“Oh, believe me, we know.”

Vi huffs, rolling her eyes as she finally takes a sip of her coffee, the bitterness matching the frustration twisting inside her.

“Laugh it up, will you?” Her tone is dry, but the weight in her chest is very real.

Because what the hell is she supposed to do?

You think she hates you.

And the truth?

She’s absolutely fucking besotted with you.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Vi grumbles, slumping back in her chair, arms crossed tight over her chest. She looks—god, she’s never looked like such a fucking loser before.

Abby and Ellie, the ever-supportive assholes they are, snicker in unison. The sight of Vi—confident, cocky, star player Vi—reduced to a lovesick mess is apparently the funniest thing they’ve ever seen.

“Talk to her, maybe?” Abby suggests, leaning forward with an amused grin, as if the answer is that simple.

Vi scoffs, her eyebrows knitting together in pure frustration. “Oh, sure. Sounds great. Let me just walk up like—Hey. I’m unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. Fuck off.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, every word spat out like venom, but underneath it, her chest aches.

Ellie completely loses it, throwing her head back as laughter wracks through her. She even doubles over in her chair, shaking with amusement.

“Irrevocably?” She gasps between breaths. “Didn’t even know you knew that word.”

Vi levels her with a glare, scowling deeply.

“Cunts. The both of you.”

But even as the words leave her lips, there’s no real bite behind them. Just an exhaustion, a helpless frustration that simmers beneath her skin.

Because for all her sharp edges and bravado, when it comes to you?

She’s completely, utterly, and irrevocably screwed.

You’re sprawled out on your bed, limbs heavy, staring blankly at the ceiling as Margot sits beside you, rhythmically running her fingers through your hair.

She’s been ranting for the past ten minutes about your refusal to use the conditioner she swore would work wonders for your oh so dry hair, but you’ve barely registered a word of it.

She notices.

“What’s up with you?” Margot finally asks, her fingers pausing for a beat before resuming their soft, absentminded strokes. Usually, you’d fire something back—argue, tease, at least pretend to care about her ongoing hair care intervention.

But right now? You’re dead silent, brows furrowed, lost in the mess inside your own head.

You exhale, long and slow. Fuck it.

“It’s just… Vi.”

Even saying her name out loud makes something twist in your chest, a dull ache that refuses to go away. She’s stuck in your mind, lingering like the last traces of a dream—one you can’t quite shake, no matter how hard you try.

Margot hums knowingly, amusement threading through her voice. “Ah, Vi. She’s got your mind all twisted, huh?”

Your eyes snap to her, narrowing in irritation. Of course, she’s teasing. She always teases. But god, couldn’t she have mercy just this once?

Your heart is in shambles, Margot.

“I’m fucking confused, that’s a start.” Your voice comes out exasperated, laced with something sharp and uncertain.

“I mean, first she tells me I’m not her type—has no problem embarrassing me in front of every-fucking-body—and now she’s all sweet with me?”

Your hands fling up in frustration before falling uselessly back to your sides. Your heart pounds against your ribs, like it’s trying to claw its way out. You wish you could let this go—wish you could stop analyzing every word, every glance, every fucking thing Vi does. But you can’t.

Margot sighs, tugging lightly at your hair as if to ground you. “She’s an idiot, that’s what she is.”

You scoff, closing your eyes for a moment. She’s not wrong.

Vi is an idiot.

Because if she liked you, she could just say so. Right?

You’re sprinting across campus, your heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs. Late again.

Margot and her damn gentle hands, lulling you into sleep like some enchantress—she’s to blame for this. Laurel is going to kill you. No, worse—she’s going to make you practice in hell, barefoot, forever.

You round the corner at full speed, barely registering the presence of someone else before you collide, hard.

The impact sends you tumbling to the ground, your palms scraping against the pavement, your white tights now a canvas for green grass stains. Fucking great.

“Oh—shit, I’m so—”

The voice cuts off abruptly, and you don’t even need to look up to know who it belongs to. You’d know that voice anywhere. It lingers in your thoughts, in your bones, in the goddamn marrow of your existence.

Still, you lift your gaze, and—yeah. Of course, it’s her.

Vi stands before you, jersey clinging to her frame, hair damp, flushed from exertion. She must’ve just finished practice.

She looks good. Too good. Unfairly good. Heat blooms in your chest, rising up your throat, and you swallow—hard.

“I’m okay,” you manage, reaching for the hand she extends toward you. The moment your fingers touch, something zips through your veins, electric and dizzying.

Vi doesn’t let go immediately.

"Let me," she murmurs, voice softer than usual. It lacks the bravado she carries with others—feels gentler, like something meant only for you.

She bends down, effortlessly picking up your bag, and you pretend you’re not blatantly staring at the way her biceps flex with the motion.

(Christ.)

You take the bag from her with a quiet, “Thanks,” and step back—because god, she’s too close, and your brain is turning to static.

Her eyes drag over you, slow, lingering, and she wipes her palms on her shorts like she’s trying to rid herself of nerves. She’s staring. You know she’s staring. And you know why.

Your ballet outfit.

It’s practically indecent under her gaze, or maybe it’s just the way Vi looks at you—like it’s some kind of sin, like you’re something holy and untouchable and achingly tempting all at once.

She hesitates, just a moment, before exhaling sharply—like she’s shaking off doubt—and gathers every ounce of courage she has left.

“Are you free later today?”

The words come out low, almost too smooth, but she can’t stop the way her hands fidget at her sides. She bites her lip, heart hammering.

What if you say no? What if you tell her to fuck off? What if this is just another moment where she embarrasses herself and—

“I am, yes.”

Your voice is soft, almost nervous. She notices.

Her pulse spikes. Yes. Fuck, yes.

“We’re hanging later,” she continues, keeping her tone even (or at least trying).

“Share a blunt, maybe. Wanna come?”

She watches you closely, hoping to hell her ears aren’t turning red, but the way you look at her—like you’re considering this, like you might want this too—makes it so much harder to keep her cool.

“Umh… sure. When?”

Vi drinks in the sight of you, the slight tilt of your head, the way your lips part just slightly.

God, your eyes.

They’re going to ruin her.

“Whenever.” She blurts it out too fast, too eager. Fuck. Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

She clears her throat, desperate to save herself. “Just come over whenever you like.”

You give her a small nod, and then—

“Alright, I’ll come. See you later, Violet.”

And then you’re off, sprinting away before she can even process what just happened.

Vi stands there, rooted, a dumb, lopsided grin tugging at her lips. Because one—you said yes. A big fucking plus.

And two—

You called her Violet.

No one calls her by her full name. Usually, it’d piss her off.

But the way it sounds from your lips?

It makes her knees weak.

Later that day, after what felt like an eternity of convincing, you finally managed to drag Flint along to the "get-together" at Vi’s dorm.

You’ve been here before—many times, actually—but tonight feels different. Your pulse hammers against your ribs as you climb the stairs, each step making your nerves tighten just a little more.

“You should’ve worn the skirt,” Flint teases, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eyes, scoffing.

“Yeah—so I can flash the entire room when the weed hits? Genius plan.”

You nudge him back, and he just shakes his head, laughing softly before raising a fist to knock on the door.

It swings open almost immediately, and Abby greets Flint with that typical frat-boy handshake—clasped hands, a shoulder bump like they’re part of some exclusive club.

Then her gaze shifts to you, and her expression softens. Like always, you greet her with a hug, the familiarity grounding you for just a moment before she steps back to let you both in.

“Don’t bother with the shoes,” she says, shutting the door behind you and leading the way to the living room.

The space is filled with scattered laughter and the low hum of music. A few familiar faces lounge across the couch and floor—Ekko, Powder, two girls you don’t recognize.

But Ellie is missing, and it doesn’t take long for you to guess that she’s probably off somewhere with Margot.

And then—your eyes land on her.

Vi is sprawled out on the couch, cap pulled low over her pink hair, and for a split second, the entire room fades away.

Your breath catches. Your heart leaps. You swear you feel the ground shift beneath you.

The moment Vi notices you, her entire posture changes. She straightens up, stiffens like she’s been caught off guard.

Her head goes completely static, like she’s trying to figure out what the hell to do.

A handshake would be too impersonal. A hug, on the other hand—fuck it.

Before either of you can think, she’s already moving.

Her arms wrap around you, firm and secure, and suddenly you’re pressed against her. She smells like leather and something faintly floral—an intoxicating mix that seeps into your lungs, making you want to drown in it. Her body is solid, warm, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you let yourself lean into it.

“Hey.”

The word slips from her lips, quieter than you expected, as if the rest of the room no longer exists. It lingers in the space between you, charged with something unspoken.

You barely manage a breath before she pulls back, her arms reluctantly falling away from you.

“Hey,” you echo, voice softer than you intended.

And just like that, the air between you shifts—tighter, heavier. But before you can process it, the moment is gone.

You settle beside Vi on the couch, crossing your legs as casually as you can manage.

But the moment you do, doubt creeps in—are you too stiff? Too tense? Before you can spiral, Vi holds out a blunt, and you silently thank the gods for the distraction.

The conversation hums around you, a background blur of laughter and chatter. You take a slow drag, the smoke burning its way down your throat, sitting heavy in your lungs.

If your mother could see you now…

Vi, on the other hand, is losing her damn mind. The moment her fingers brush yours as you take the blunt, something electric shoots through her veins, igniting every nerve. It’s ridiculous how much a single touch affects her, but she can’t stop herself—she’s been waiting for an opening, for any excuse to keep the momentum between you going.

“How was practice?” Her voice is softer than before, meant only for you. Her stormy gray eyes lock onto yours, and she tries—tries so damn hard—to appear unfazed, like your presence doesn’t unravel her by the second.

You exhale slowly, the smoke curling between you as you hum in thought. Vi swears every tiny sound you make sets her heart hammering against her ribs.

“Horrible,” you finally admit, a quiet chuckle slipping from your lips. “Laurel made me do extra drills because I was late.”

Vi’s brow twitches at that—the ballet bitch had it out for you?

“Because of me.” Her jaw ticks, irritation flickering across her face. “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

You shake your head, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “No, I was late to begin with.”

Vi takes the blunt back from you, bringing it to her lips, and for some reason, your head spins as you watch her take a drag. The way her lips wrap around the paper, the slow pull of her inhale—it’s too much. You look away, pulse skittering in your chest.

“Vi, beer?”

Ekko’s voice cuts through the haze, and you glance up to see him standing from the floor, his head tilted in question.

Vi nods, but before she can even respond, Ekko smirks. “And your birdie?”

Everything stops.

A sudden, suffocating tension grips Vi’s chest.

No, no, no—not that.

Ekko nods toward you, and you blink at him, an eyebrow arching. “What?”

Vi stiffens beside you, her heart lurching into her throat. She panics, speaking before thinking. “Leave her alone.”

Your eyes flicker between them, mild confusion crossing your face. Meanwhile, Ekko raises his hands in mock surrender, amusement dancing in his expression. “No need to get your knickers in a twist over your crush.”

Vi freezes.

A hot wave of dread rushes up her spine, spreading like wildfire beneath her skin.

She can’t move, can’t breathe—can’t even look at you.

A few hours later, Flint announces your departure, and you silently thank the heavens.

Ever since Ekko so graciously outed Vi’s feelings for you, she’s been stuck in this awkward, jittery mess, barely able to meet your gaze.

Not that you’ve been doing much better. Your thoughts have been spiraling, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum.

Because Violet fucking Lane has a crush on you.

You barely register Flint chatting with Abby near the door when Vi shifts beside you, exhaling softly—like she’s working up the nerve to say something.

Then, finally, in a voice quieter than you’ve ever heard from her, she speaks.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your breath hitches, eyes flickering to hers. She’s not looking at you, but you can see it—the hesitation, the nerves tight in her posture. You give a small nod, and that’s all she needs before turning on her heel, leading you down the hall.

The moment you’re away from the others, Vi leans against the wall, inhaling deeply, like the words are lodged in her throat and she needs to steady herself before prying them free.

“I’m sorry about Ekko.” Her voice is low, the weight of her words pressing between you. “He’s an idiot.”

She still won’t look at you, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor, and you swear you can see her hands twitch—like she wants to shove them deep into her pockets but is fighting the urge.

“It’s okay, I swear.” Your voice is softer now, watching her carefully, hoping to ease the tightness in her frame.

Vi finally dares to glance up, and at the sight of your small smile, you watch the tension in her shoulders loosen, just slightly.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, almost like she doesn’t quite believe it.

You nod, hands clasped together in front of you to keep yourself from fidgeting.

God, she’s so pretty.

Vi takes a step forward—slowly, carefully—like she’s afraid she might scare you off. Her eyes search yours, drinking in every detail, every shift in your expression.

She’s looking for something—anything—to tell her this isn’t one-sided, that you might want her just as much as she wants you.

And you do.

Your lips part slightly, breath stalling in your chest as she reaches out, hesitating just for a second before her fingers brush against your cheek. Her touch is featherlight, careful, reverent.

A quiet gasp catches in your throat as warmth blooms beneath her fingertips, and she feels it—feels the way you lean into her palm, how your lashes flutter just slightly.

Vi swears her heart is going to give out.

“Can I?” she whispers, her lips now just inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of her breath, smell the faint trace of mint and something distinctly her.

It’s barely a nod—just the smallest tilt of your head—but it’s enough.

Vi doesn’t hesitate this time. A quiet, shaky exhale leaves her just before she closes the space between you, her lips pressing against yours in a rush of heat and longing.

Your hands instinctively grip her shoulders, fingers grazing firm muscle, and god, you wish you’d done this sooner.

Her other hand finds its way into your hair, tugging you impossibly closer as she angles her head, deepening the kiss.

Her lips move against yours in a slow, careful rhythm—like she’s savoring every second, like she wants to commit this moment to memory.

And for the first time all night, the world feels right.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ TAGLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚

( @foralltheprettygirls ; @sawaagyapong ; @jivimatcha ; @majuia ; @uhmidkmuch ; @savedforlaterr ; @baylegend6 ; @elle-girlylesbian @dazevi @paymeinkash , @jupitism , @lostsouls-mxli ; @xseraphine ; @tdawg2012 ; @norwayromanoff ; @caffeine-pup ; @tuliptu ; @killuomi ; @lin-elizabeth ; @sillyloafff ; @hitmehardmommy ; @cloudy-fay ; @powpowjinxlife ; @antobooh ; @horde9 ; @mikellie )

#vi arcane #arcane #vi x reader #vi league of legends #violet arcane #vi fanfic #violet fluff #vi au #vi smut #vi x you #vi imagine #vi fluff #violet arcane fluff

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etherealrin · 2 days ago

Text

꩜ .ᐟ blue.

summer 2006.

you know, you and satoru both do, that you're not supposed to be enjoying it this much. this whole beach trip in okinawa, all of this sightseeing—none of it was really for your pleasure nor enjoyment.

riko amanai looks at you thoughtfully. "something up?"

"nope! let's keep going!" you fake a smile, dragging her back towards the shoreline where the ocean was ravaging the sand.

"eek! it's cold!" the black haired girl cries, cringing at the sensation. you'd have to agree, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

out of the blue, you're both rudely splashed by a truckload of the frigid water.

"SATORU!" you exclaim, turning to stare at the white haired male, currently sniggering with glee. suguru stands next to him, an obvious accomplice by the sight of the huge dragon which had caused the wave.

"you'll never get us, losers!" the two boys had run too far along the seashore for you and riko to have any hope of catching—and even if you did, satoru would surely turn on his infinity.

not that he'd turned it off since leaving riko's school. you can sense it in his eyes, how they're just a little bit duller. he must be dead exhausted underneath that facade, you know it.

his gaze catches yours, and as if by fate's intention, suguru and riko are called away by kuroi, leaving the two of you alone. you walk to him, sand shuffling under bare toes. satoru is oddly quiet, eyes never leaving you for even a second.

"you gonna stop staring? it's a bit awkward for me, y'know?" you lightly punch his arm when you finally reach him, sighing.

"it's weird, isn't it? to feel this normal. gives me a bad premonition, actually." his fingers are fidgeting at nothing in the air, now looking up at the blueness of the sky.

you're standing shoulder to shoulder but it feels like there's an impossible distance between you two. he seems distant, lost in the world of his own thoughts somewhere far away.

"what are you thinking about?" you question softly. "i know you might believe you have to handle everything by yourself, because you're the strongest or whatever, but that's just your superiority complex talking." that gets a chuckle out of him. but he still doesn't feel like the satoru you know.

"what i'm thinking about, huh?" he falters, pale hair ruffled by the salty breeze of air. you swear you can hear both his and your heartbeats, drumming in sync. "i'm thinking—well, imagining, that we fell in love on a day just like this, by the ocean."

when the words leave his lips, you suddenly see it. everything he imagines, you want to believe so badly.

"is that what you wish for? that we were regular humans?"

"sometimes." it's a confession from the strongest. "but mostly no. i'd hate to be weak," he feigns disgust in an attempt to joke.

you can't stop the smile from spreading across your face, reaching both hands out to capture one of his. satoru stiffens immediately, impossibly blue eyes widening.

so he did turn off his infinity for you.

"it's alright. like you said, you're the strongest, right?"

the glimmer of the ocean's waves reflect across his face, painting him aquamarine. the moment is so blue, in both emotion and color.

if you could have said it then, you would have told him instead that he could leave his heart with you. you'd keep it safe for him, and your love wouldn't ever falter. that the universe would always bring you two back together.

but you don't. you can't, knowing that if something ever happened to the either of you it would only hurt even more.

instead, you allow him to rest his head against you, quietly praying to a higher that everything would be okay, listening to the soft splashes of the water.

a/n: this is the beach scene in hidden inventory yes! gojo art is by @ shachi0515 on yt!

ılılılılılılı now playing: blue by yung kai, blue by keshi (do we sense a theme here?)

masterlist. can be read as a continuation of this fic!

#this song kills me #tiff try not to write gojo angst challenge failed #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo jjk #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru x you #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #五 ; satoru x reader

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whytheylosttheirminds · 9 hours ago

Text

you knock me out, i fall apart

being a new dad is the scariest thing in the world for rafe, until his baby girl smiles at him for the first time...

When his daughter was born, she cried so loud that Rafe thought something must be wrong. But then he saw your face, full of relief and joy as they placed your baby girl on your chest.

“She’s a fighter, huh?” The nurse asked with a chuckle.

“Just like her dad,” you said, leaning back onto the pillows and gazing up at Rafe with so much affection and relief in your eyes he thought he might be dreaming. He hoped you didn’t see the blood drain from his own face.

Josie’s little fists clenched as she kept crying out, letting the world know she was here and she was not going to be quiet about it.

“Wh-what’s wrong with her?” Rafe looked at the doctor with a panic stricken face. “Is she hurt?”

The doctor didn’t seem worried, which irritated Rafe. Could he not hear her? She was so tiny and helpless, why did no one else seem worried?

“It’s a good thing, healthy lungs,” the doctor told him casually. “Got a name?”

“Josephine Cameron,” you answered without a second thought.

You’d picked the first name only a few weeks after discovering you were pregnant, but you and Rafe had never talked about her last name. He assumed you didn’t want to offend him by saying it’d be better if your baby girl didn’t have the weight of his name strapped to her. Her life would be hard enough with a fuck up like him for a father.

“You want her name to be Cameron?” Rafe asked in surprise, his face still ashen while yours was glowing with sweat and color and new mom joy.

“Of course,” you said simply, eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion. “Mine will be too soon.”

He was stunned, but he tried not to show it, hoping everyone in the room would attribute his teary eyes to the exhaustion of your twenty-four hour labor. He’d been awake and at your side for every single second.

For just a moment, all was quiet. Then, Josie’s face scrunched with a fury he’d only ever seen in the mirror. Her scream built like a wave, crashing over the room when she finally wailed with all the force of her tiny lungs. Rafe’s heart shattered at the sound. All he wanted in the world was to help her, to take away her pain, and he hated that he had no idea how to.

He didn’t understand how you could be so calm while something was clearly wrong with the baby. But you just rubbed her back, Josie settling under your gentle touch and nuzzling into the soft skin of your bare chest. Looking down at the two of you, he’d never been more in love, or more sure that he wasn’t cut out for this. Not like you were.

“Can you take her?” You requested through a yawn.

“I-I can’t…I don’t know how.”

You smiled at him, your heavy eyelids struggling to stay open.

“Just cradle her head, like this.”

You demonstrated for him before passing the little bundle in your arms over to him.

His hands were shaking, shoulders tense. He held her away from his chest, eyes wide with panic.

“What if I drop her?”

Beneath his words, his truest fear - what if I’m too much, and it hurts her?

But you were already slipping into well-earned sleep.

“You won’t, baby,” you said dreamily.

Rafe wasn’t so sure. He met Josie’s eyes, her little blue irises identical to his own as she blinked up at him. She was only a few minutes old, but he thought he saw something knowing in her gaze, her face reading something like, this guy? Seriously?

He had the strange urge to apologize to her: yeah so sorry, this was all a big misunderstanding. I’ll go get your real dad now.

But he couldn’t, because he was her real dad, no substitutes would be coming to rescue her from that fact.

Josie’s blanket came unswaddled as Rafe continued to struggle to hold her properly. You couldn’t fight off the sleep that took over, so a nurse rushed to his side and mercifully pulled Josie from his arms to place her in the bassinet. He was grateful, but felt strongly like he’d just failed his first fatherhood test.

Just like her dad, you’d said.

For Josie’s sake, he sure hoped not.

------❤︎------

Rafe had committed to getting clean the second he saw that little pink plus sign on the pregnancy test. And he’d kept his promise. His body took a long time to adjust, but now he was healthier than ever. He woke up with you for every feeding, hair messy and eyes half closed as he went to the kitchen to get you water and a midnight snack.

“You can go back to sleep, love,” you’d assure him sweetly.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” He’d say.

You stopped trying to convince him to go back to sleep, grateful for his partnership in the exhausting early hours.

One night, only a few days after you’d gotten home from the hospital, you finished feeding Josie and set her on the boppy laid on your mattress. She wriggled and stretched, drowsy in a milk haze.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Rafe, standing to head into the shower.

“Oh, uh, okay.” He tried not to let you hear his nerves. He hadn’t spent much time alone with the baby since carrying her in from the car a few days ago. He was still so sure he’d break her if given the chance.

Josie settled for a minute, he thought she’d gone back to sleep. Just as he was breathing a sigh of relief, her little eyes blinked open, staring unfocused at the ceiling above her. Her vision hadn’t developed yet, but he could tell she sensed her mother’s absence already. Her face scrunched in the unsettled way Rafe was quickly learning led to her cries.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, shhh.” Rafe pulled the boppy closer to him, letting it sit between his legs as he bent over the baby, his bare shoulders casting a shadow across her tiny body in the dim lamplight.

“She’ll be right back,” he tried to sound assuring, but his eyes flicked nervously to the cracked open bathroom door, hoping you’d change your mind about a shower and come back to them.

He looked down at his daughter and took a deep breath, reaching tentatively to place a hand on her little belly. Since she was born, you’d been trying to determine who she looked more like - you or Rafe. But now, gazing down at her, it was strikingly clear how much she looked like a Cameron.

Her chubby little cheeks concave in tiny dimples, just like her dad’s. Her bright eyes are deep blue, just like her dad’s. Her little forehead scrunches and her little lips purse when she’s upset, just like her dad’s.

The sudden realization that she looked so much like him warmed Rafe from the inside out, something completely new blooming in his chest. She was his. His baby girl. His eyes grew damp as she squirmed and squawked, looking around the room like she was still trying to find you. He gently settled the tips of his calloused forefingers in the dips in her soft cheeks, unable to resist a gentle squish.

“Hi baby,” he said lovingly.

The deep, soft sound of his voice caught her attention, her eyes locking on him. And then she smiled.

Rafe’s heart leapt in his chest, he looked up, considering calling out for you to come see, but he was speechless. He was tempted to take a picture, but no image could capture how perfect this moment was.

“Hi Jojo,” he repeated, his voice cracking. “Are you smiling at dada? You’re smiling at dada! My girl!”

The parenting books stacked on his bedside table had taught him most babies don’t smile until they’re six weeks old, but the longer he looked at her in amazement, the wider she smiled at him.

“You’re better than most babies, huh?” He cooed. “Yeah. ‘Cause you’re my smart girl. You’re dada’s girl.”

Without even thinking about it, he scooped her into his arms. She was already nestled against his chest, skin to skin, before it hit him how natural the movement had been. He was finally holding her the way she needed him to. She scrunched up her little body, curled on his chest in perfect peace.

Rafe dropped a featherlight kiss to the top of her head as she drifted off to sleep.

“My girl.”

------❤︎------

a/n: wait I loved writing this sm. I might do some more dada rafe and baby jojo fluff soon <3

divider credit to @qqmariztwsse !

#rafe cameron #dad!rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron x you #Rafe Cameron fluff #Rafe Cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx fic #Rafe Cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron angst #mom!reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fandom

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corevibeself · 16 hours ago

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𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓕𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮?

The energy of love that I have been feeling around me for the past month has been as intense as swallowing sugar by the buckets. I feel like my insides are turning pink. I'm now realizing my insides are already pink as I'm writing this. Anywho loved doing this reading xxxx

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 1 ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 2 ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 3

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 1

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜: 𝙈𝙮 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙚 - 𝙈𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙠𝙞

Your future spouse is going to be such a best friend! The energy I’m getting from this reading is that you two might be mirroring each other. I like to say same vibe tribe because you’re vibrating at the same frequency—so if this sounds like you, that may be why.

Your future spouse is the kind of person who gets along with anyone as long as they’re kind and respectful. They steer way clear of drama-seekers and can’t stand judgmental people. They’re deeply empathetic, and I feel like they’ve had experiences that made them someone who stands up for others.

One specific scenario I saw (which may not apply to everyone, but still serves as an example) is that they might have a sibling with a disability who was made fun of, and that experience shaped them into this sensitive, socially aware person who cannot tolerate hate. They know judgment brings nothing but misery, and they refuse to contribute to it.

They’re incredibly compassionate and understanding. You never have to be afraid of making mistakes with this person because they don’t see mistakes as something to hold over you. To them, as long as you’re honest and open about where you’re coming from, that’s all they need. They believe real relationships are built on mutual understanding and vulnerability—and trust me, they walk the talk.

Emotionally mature? Check. Emotionally intelligent? Double check.

They’re also very opinionated, but not in a bad way. I’m seeing a situation where someone says something rude, and this person immediately shuts it down, defending you without hesitation. Or, let’s say you’re watching a reality show together, like Love Island—if they see something unfair, they will speak up about it. They’re passionate about fairness, kindness, and doing what’s right.

I also get the sense that they can be selfless to the point of giving more than they should. They know they have a tendency to take on too much, but at the same time, they don’t mind if it drains them—especially if it means helping someone they care about. Noble souls, they are.

This might also be why they spend a lot of time indoors. Not because they’re antisocial—more like their energy gets scattered easily. Honestly? Big neurodivergent vibes, possibly ADHD. They’ve got this huge heart, a million interests, and a natural tendency to care for others.

They’re what I’d call an introverted extrovert. They’re not shy, but people can drain them quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if they work in the mental health field, something related to justice, or are super passionate about social justice in general.

And let me tell you—this person has your back in every sense of the word. If you’ve ever craved a connection where you’re fully understood, where you can be 100% yourself without fear of judgment—this is it. They’re exactly what you’ve been needing.

They just have this gift for making people open up. They see the beauty in others, in the world, and they bring so much balance. I wouldn’t be shocked if they have Libra in their chart—Libra rising, maybe?

Their energy is so sweet. I can see them genuinely asking how your day was, really listening because they truly care.

And honestly? If I could tell this person one thing, it would be to see how beautiful of a soul they truly are.

They feel like a modern-day knight. Hehehe.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 2

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜: 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 -𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙞𝙭

This person’s been through some tough shit, but I see them bippity-bopping their way out of it like the fairy godmother. They might’ve been through foster homes—I also had a vision of couch-hopping—so it could be that they’ve got lots of connections and friends who support them because their family may not. I just get the feeling they dealt with a lot of challenges in their childhood or teen years, and it sparked this change in them. Instead of turning to darkness and letting it define their whole life, they became a doer.

They just know how to grind, how to better themselves, and how to be a good person—which they are. They’re willing to do what it takes to heal. I don’t want to get graphic, but this person may have developed coping mechanisms in the past but has grown out of them.

They’re the type to drop anything they’re doing to help you if you needed it. And they have this way of surprising you. I literally just saw a vision of a guy in a store, minding his business, buying groceries or whatever, and then he just randomly sees something that reminds him of you. It’s a funny energy—like, he’s impulsive like that. He’ll just grab it and bring it back to you, and it’s something completely stupid. You’ll be like, “Why did you buy this stuffed penguin?” and he’ll just shrug and say, “It reminded me of you.” It’s cute, but like... what?! Hahahaha.

This person tends to suppress their emotions, unsure whether to communicate them or not, because they might have some fears around vulnerability. But trust that when they feel safe, they’ll open up to you.

I also kind of saw that this person might be loud (relatable AF). Not in a bad way—just very expressive. I feel like they were the class clown, secretly depressed because shit was bad at home, and teachers were like, “Why are you so loud?” No, but seriously—they’re hilarious. I felt very giggly during this reading.

This person has charm—like, their humour is their superpower. You really wouldn’t guess what they’ve been through because they’re such a ray of sunshine.

And kids? This person is hilarious with them. It’s like they can fully be themselves around children, or they just have this youthful energy no matter their age. If you’re into someone who brings the fun, is goofy but surprisingly deep—this is your person. Genuine. Authentic. I love ittttt.

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 3

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜: 𝙎𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 - 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚

Daddy Vibes, HA! This person has a great drive—like, a very determined person. I see them getting up constantly, even if they keep falling. This has made them into someone that gives off major "They can do anything" vibes.

Need to kill a spider? Done. Craving something from the store late at night? They’ll do it so nonchalantly, like, I see them just going, "So what do you need?"—face blank AF.

Okay, if anyone is a K-pop fan, Yoongi from BTS totally gives these vibes. He’ll do things for you even if he doesn’t look happy doing it, but it’s not that he’s unhappy. It’s just that taking care of people comes so naturally to him that he doesn’t even see it as a big deal. That’s this person. It’s their role—to take care of you.

They have lots of goals. Like I said, they’ve got this drive. I see backup plan after backup plan after backup plan. Like, "This job isn’t for me? That’s fine. I also really like this. And if that doesn’t work, I have connections. I can travel. I know how to charm and talk to people. I have ways." That’s the energy they give.

Scattered AF, though, but they’re working on it. This person just always has money. You don’t gotta worry about them ever being a lazy bum. It’s not that they’re a millionaire—they’ve just healed their wound around security. They don’t see work as a passion; they see it as "I get this done so I can do my passions." And that’s awesome. Some people need to work in a field they’re passionate about, but this person? They just trust that the universe has their back so they can enjoy their passions, because their passions have nothing to do with work—and they’re fine with that.

If you’re the type of person that doesn’t wanna work your whole life, this person doesn’t mind working for you, honestly. Like, they love you.

They might come off a bit intimidating at first when y’all meet. They just have a good head on their shoulders because of past experiences. Don’t be afraid. I’m getting very mature vibes—like I said earlier... DAAAADDDYYYY.

Some of y’all may have daddy issues, like... that’s okay. So does 90% of the population—we’re on a healing journey here, HAHAHA.

This person looks ahead. They don’t get stuck in the past, so they won’t ever hold shit over your head. The past is the past. We grow as human beings. They’re open-minded and see things from other perspectives, which is so refreshing. Don’t be afraid to express your opinions or feelings—this person wants to help.

If you want a family, they’ll be an amazing father. Also, they might look like a working person. I’m seeing that if their job is physical, you can see it on them—like, maybe they smell like oil because they’re a mechanic. A job where you can literally see the results on them physically.

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<3<3<3

AHHHH my first reading on here. To whoever reads this, I enjoyed doing this. I love everything about this. I'm so passionate, and I'm so grateful to whoever this reaches. XXXX

#tarot reading #future spouse #pick a card #pick a pile #love #tarotcommunity #libra #pac reading #intuitive readings #inuition #clairvoyance #claircognizance

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cosmic-dust-poltergeist · 1 day ago

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De-aged Danny shenanigans with an adult Damian taking after his father.

Danny, about 6: *drigging through the trash*

Damian, 26: Hello? Are you alright?

Danny, whips around to look at him with glowing green eyes: hissssss

Damian, blinks: Oh, dear....Are you hungry?

Danny, suspicious:... yeth

Damian, nods: If you come with me, we can either go to a batburger down the street or my apartment a block over. I have a washer and dryer I can run your clothes through while you bathe.

Danny: Are you trying to kidnap me?

Damian: If I was, I'd be a fool to say so

Danny: mm twue...why else would you want to help me though?

Damian: one. It would be irresponsible of me to level a toddler alone, in an alley, in Gotham.

Danny, pouting: I'm not a toddler

Damian: Two. I will never hear the end of it from my siblings whether or not I help you, but it'd be more teasing than lecturing if I do help you.

Danny: Why would they do dat?

Damian: If you don't have any place to go, I might just tell you. But only if I can make sure you don't tell the wrong person.

Danny: I'm good wif secrets!

Damian, amused: We shall see. And now third and final reason. Are you aware your eyes are glowing green?

Danny, gasps and slams his eyes shut: You're not supposed to see!

Damian, softly: It's okay. I understand what that means. One of my elder brothers' eyes glow the same way. It must have been very scary for you to die

Danny, sniffling: It was... does his eyes weally glow green?

Damian: They do. His usually glow when he gets angry, is it the same with you?

Danny, now blinking blue glowing eyes at Damian: mmm? No? Green is too much bad emotion

Damian: Bad emotion?

Danny: Mad, um, strezz? No, the bigger one!

Damian: Panic or anxiety?

Danny, points at him with a bounce: Yeah!!

Damian, amused and concerned: I see

Danny: mmm let's see, um, and scared?

Damian: Interesting. Jason's eyes are usually an indicator of angry, but I know he likes to cover his fear and concern with that same anger. I shall look into it. On that note. And what does glowing blue mean?

Danny, blinks: Blue?

Damian: Yes. Did you know your eyes are glowing blue now?

Danny, shocked: No! They didn't do that before!... At least I don't think they did?

Damian: Well, they're a very pretty shade of blue.

Danny: Maybe... Maybe that's how my parents noticed...

Damian, trying not to frown: What did your parents notice?

Danny, turning his big teary eyes on Damian: That I'm not fully human anymore. They didn't notice. They never noticed!

Damian, slowly reaching out to the kid to see if he'd accept a hug: Sounds like your parents didn't deserve you.

Danny, giving into his childish instincts and flinging himself into Damian's arms to sob his little heart out: They didn't even know I died! It's not fair! I'm not weally human and it's their fault! I hate their stupid po-po- THING! It shocked me and it hurt and now I'm dead and it's their fault!

Damian: *gently rocking Danny til he tires himself out*

Danny, sniffling: It's not fair...

Damian: Something I've found is, it never is. Every stray my father has housed has had an unbearably harsh life, and I, being his blood son, was no different. My mother and her father raised me for the first ten years of my life, and I've come to understand that my childhood was not a good one. It took me a long time and a lot of patience from my eldest brother to come to realize what I was missing.

Danny: Like, Jazzy?

Damian: mm? Who's Jazzy?

Danny: My big sister. She's a big know it all, but she tries...

Damian: Well, that's-

Danny, jolts in Damian's hold: Tried! *GASP* Jazzy doesn't know mom and dad didn't kill me!! *pause* um, kill me again?

Damian: Well, we'll have to tell her, won't we? You wouldn't happen to know her full name? I can ask my family to contact her while we get you cleaned up

Danny: Yeah! Her name is Jasmine Fenton! She goes to a big big school here! That's why I came here! I just... I got lost..

Damian: That won't do

Damian, pulls out his phone and calls Barbara while starting to walk to his apartment: Gordon. I have a request.

Barbara: Yeah? Whatcha got, baby bat?

Damian: Can you look up a Jasmine Fenton? I have something she will probably want back.

Barbara: Holy shit! Is that a child??

Damian, sighs: Yes, it's her little brother. He ran away from a bad situation with his parents and got lost trying to find his elder sister.

Barbara: Alright. I'll check out her entire life to make sure she's safe to- wait. Damian, is that kid's name Danny?

Damian, realizing he never asked: One moment.

Damian, looks down at a sleepy, but curious Danny: Is your name Danny?

Danny, beams: Yeah!!

Barbara: Caught that, but, uh, Damian, Danny is supposed to be 20, not...4? 5? Not a tiny child

Damian: umm... Danny did you used to be older?

Danny, shrinks into himself and his eyes turn green: Ye-yeah... I don't know why I'm little... mommy did something and it Huuurt and hurt til suddenly I was free and I ran and hid in a bus

Damian, soothingly petting his back: Okay, it's okay, we'll figure it out.

Barbara: Take care of him for the night, we'll contact his sister tomorrow at a reasonable time. I'm not finding anything too concerning on her yet so she's probably safe

Damian: Copy that. Goodnight, Gordon.

Barbara, teasing: Goodnight, mini-Bruce!

Damian, flushes, but doesn't deny it before hanging up and glancing towards Danny: That was Barbara Gordon. A family friend. She'll help us find your sister, but you'll be staying with me for tonight.

Danny, sleepy: Okay..

Damian, slipping into his apartment lobby and going straight up the stairs, ignoring the gaping attendants: Don't fall asleep just yet. You will be fed and bathed first

Danny, huffs, but straightens up: What food?

Damian: That depends, I only really have vegetarian food so I suppose we'll have to find something you'll eat

Danny: Sam is vegetarian! I eat vegetarian sometimes with her!

Damian: hm? Very good, then it should be easier for me to feed you

Damian and Danny have a wonderful time. Danny is fed, watered, and cleaned up before being set up with a quiet sound machine to sleep. Damian has a crisis over wanting to keep Danny and suddenly understands his father's adoption habit. He sets alarms to check on Danny throughout the night, but it's otherwise uneventful.

#batfam #batfam shenanigans #damian wayne #danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #dc x dp #barbara gordon

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mintendo96 · 3 days ago

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People especially don't understand the violence of displacement, refugeehood, and diaspora. Like the deaths of these wars are so brutal and horrific but being displaced isn't safety or without its own horrors.

Imagine someone like my dad. He was 6 years old when the six day war happened. He remembers it well even. He remembers being shot at. He remembers hiding in the caves. He remembers running out of food and not being sure if they would be able to get more. Now that alone is a horror and a trauma that lives on your bones.

Now imagine that the only home he has ever known is not home anymore. Might never be again. This place is where your family has lived for at least 12 generations and have family legends of Saladin. His parents decided it was safer to come to the US. A place where he doesn't speak the language, none of them do really. A place that's different entirely: a rural town in Palestine to a bustling American city is a big transition. And he just has to be okay with that because it's a *blessing* at least you are *safe.*

But safety isn't in the day to day as his family struggles to feed all of them. Safety isn't the word I would use to describe figuring out what place to put on your passport as country of origin when your country can't be your birthplace. Safety isn't the word I would use to describe the myriad of ways racism appears in the day to day, both mundane and horrifying. He loses whatever abilities he has to read and write in Arabic.

But, he eventually gets to a place where he and other parts of his family can go back to home. It's wonderful although brief each time and getting briefer. Then things get worse back home and he won't know the next time it will be safe to see his home. He tries to preserve his culture to his kids with his wife who is also Palestinian. They know some basic words in Arabic, but they are toddlers, they will learn more.

Then 9/11 happens. The world is more dangerous for him and his kids than he thought it could get. Even in the "safe" place that they fled to. Hate crimes are increasingly a problem and what is going to happen to his kids. He and his wife stop speaking Arabic in public. Not on purpose, not even consciously, but their kids slowly lose their tenuous grasp of his language. They can't even speak to his parents really and the language barrier between the two generations is a new kind of horror. A rupture that echoes the lack of his literacy in Arabic but this time he can hear it.

He doesn't visit home again for over 2 decades. But he gets back home. And it is beautiful. Two of his adult kids come for the first time. They get to see what they have been missing their whole lives. The parts of them that were lost to time or hatred are here. He even wants to move back. He tries to start the process of getting his parents home in his and his siblings names. It's all they he adores, the food is just as good as he remembers. His kid gorges herself on figs so much she gets ill. They have tea every morning on the patio.

He doesn't get a chance to go back. Not yet at least. The pandemic and then the genocide have prevented him. His kid now lives within a few miles of where the first hate crime in the US that took place after 9/11. He has spent the last 2 years watching horrors beyond even the traumas he already held. He watches the place he loves and desparately wants to return to get turned into rubble over and over again.

Being in the US has meant my family is alive. I am privileged to be here, but it is a horror onto itself. And this is a story of displacement to a Western country, many other stories are far worse than his, far worse than mine. But even in ideal circumstances, diaspora has been a horror. A rupture in space and time on our culture and our identity happening concurrently to the physical destruction of people that look like us. Do you know how often I donate to people with the names of my cousins? How often I see bloodied faces of kids that look like my niblings? How if we were from just a few miles southwest from where we are, we would be there too?

Getting out is important and you should keep funding people to flee, but you have to understand, they aren't fleeing to safety. They are fleeing to a better chance at life, but that life, as it stands, will never be safe.

The US literally invented the playbook by invading Iraq 2 decades ago and keeping it under occupation for nearly a decade after that (and it still is under occupation really, what with US troops still strewn throughout the country)—and we still have people thinking that their every pro-Israeli move isn’t made with the very intention of killing Arabs, as they historically have in the past. Get serious.

#palestine #gaza #palestinian

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frissonmei · 1 day ago

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lover or love her? / sylus

DETAILS: non-mc!reader, best friend!reader, fluff, pre/unestablished relationship, some slice of life, flirting, best friends to lovers, pining, petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, kitten, baby), banter, slight angst if you squint (as pining always does include), slight jealousy, somewhat suggestive, tense consistency issues, slight misunderstanding, bars & alcohol consumption, i make up my own places in linkon, may be ooc? SUMMARY: you’ve been close (maybe a little too close) friends with sylus for a very long time; one of the few people sylus engages with outside of his business dealings. however, with how busy he is, you don’t see each other often. finally, after months, you’re able to get him for a day, and who knows what might happen as your always flirtatious friendship teeters on the edge of something more. NOTES: more fluff because if i read another story of angst i might cry, slice of life because i didn’t really know what to write? i wrote this on an airplane to pass time lol. wc. 4.2k

“Hey,” the deep voice cut through your music. You looked up, yanking out one earbud. Ah—Sylus. He was looking at you curiously, a light smirk on his face. He towered over you, shoulders relaxed. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“What are you reading?” he asked once he knew he had your attention.

You glanced down at the book in your hands. You showed him the cover.

“Yeah, I have no idea what that one’s about,” he said.

“Figured.” you laughed, stretching one arm above you and scooting your chair back.

“You gonna order something or are you ready to go?” you asked, glancing at him sideways as you shrugged your coat on and shoved your book into your bag.

“I had coffee earlier.” he replied, rolling his shoulders.

You stood up. You jumped as you almost smacked into his jaw, “Why are you standing that close?”

He laughed, “I don’t know. Maybe so I can get smacked by a pretty kitten every once in a while.”

You recoiled, “Ew. Save that ‘kitten’ shit for your precious hunter, Sylus,” you said heatedly, completely ignoring the part where he called you pretty.

“What? You don’t like it?” he teased, grabbing at you.

You blocked him, “Haha, very funny. Now let’s go before I get sick of your ass and leave you here.” you started walking to the door of the quaint cafe, not bothering to check if he was following.

“Ouch, sweetheart,” he drawled, sarcastically, trailing behind you leisurely, “Careful or I might start thinking you hate me. Are you always this rude to people giving you a ride or is it just me?”

“Just you.” you grinned, spinning back toward him and walking backward on the sidewalk.

“Wow, I feel so special.” he deadpanned.

You reached out to pat his cheek, “You should. Really, it’s a privilege.”

He rolled his eyes, hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. You stumbled and you looked at him with wide eyes, “What-"

“Look behind you, sweetie.”

You turned your head, mouth forming into an O shape. You had almost walked off the curb. “Ok, we don’t talk about that.” you said as you released yourself from his hold and hopped off the sidewalk next to his motorcycle.

“Wow, no thank you either. What bad manners.” he teasingly chastised.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh I’m soo sorry. Thank you so much for saving me Sylus. You’re so big and strong and awesome! I just can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.” you purred at him, looking at him with faux adoring eyes, hands clasped together in false gratefulness. “That enough for you?”

“Aw you really think so?” he said, placing a hand over his heart in pretend thankfulness.

Your lip quirked, “You know what? Sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night.” you laughed as you leaned over to grab the helmet attached below the seat of his bike.

Sylus laughed as he swung a leg over the bike. He situated himself, turning the key to turn the bike on. When you stood up he smacked your visor down.

“Hey!” you exclaimed. Glaring at him as you flicked it back up, “See that’s not fair because you don’t have a helmet. I can’t get you back.”

He shrugged, “That’s too bad I guess.”

“One of these days.” you muttered as you swung your onto the pillion seat. You locked your arms around his torso tightly. Your heart jumped for a second—you’d forgotten how well-defined Sylus was, even through the leather he was wearing.

“Alright, where we headed?” you asked over his shoulder.

He shrugged, “Dunno. Wherever,” he paused before adding, “Anywhere as long as your with me.” he looked back, grinning at you cheekily and wiggling his brows as if to say: That was a good one, right?

You blinked at him, unimpressed, “Stop trying to woo me, Sylus. Is this what you say to that hunter?” you sighed, exasperated.

“What, not impressed?” he frowned at you in faux sadness.

“No,” you stated dryly.

“Sheesh, tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”

Sylus took you to the boardwalk across Linkon.

You shook out your hair once off the bike, “I haven’t been here in forever.”

“I know.” Sylus said.

The way he said it made you pause. You looked at him trying to catch something—anything—in his gaze that would suggest something. He was already looking at you—passive. You looked back down, shaking away the thought.

As the two of you strolled down the boardwalk, you told him about work and he told you the less grisly details of his last deal.

“Wait—so you’re telling me this Chavez guy tried to scam you by going through Luke and Kieran?” you exclaimed, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Yes, exactly. I don’t know how someone can be that idiotic.” he confirmed.

“That’s crazy. Please tell me you shot him.”

He glanced at you mirthfully, “I won’t confirm or deny that for legal reasons.”

You looked at him, “Oh come on! You think I’m gonna turn you in? Wow, I’m offended.”

“I’m kidding. Yes, Luke shot him immediately actually. I didn’t even know until they told me later.”

You laughed, “You know what, that’s fair. He wouldn’t have made it far if he didn’t know who the twins were connected too.”

“Yeah, I suppose not,” he agreed.

What kind of person knowing and laughing about Sylus’ lifestyle made you, you weren’t sure. But it kept you safe so you tried not to think too much about it. You knew Sylus kept tabs on you even if he asked what you’d been up to as if he didn’t have it recorded already. Like you said, it kept you safe. Not that you had much to run from; an average citizen of Linkon city but… the assurance was nice. Also a bonus, you could come and go into the N109 Zone freely. Not that you ever had, but Sylus had given you a brooch in case you wanted to.

“Come visit me.” he’d said.

You hadn’t. You’d stuck with him coming out of the shadows to masquerade as a normal man every now and then. He hadn’t said anything about it.

“Hey look! It’s you!” you exclaimed.

“What?” Sylus asked, brow furrowed.

You pointed to a mosquito buzzing around your heads, laughing.

It was his turn to look at you unimpressed.

“Wow, riveting. Please, do tell, why you think so?” he asked, voice low and looking at you with all the severity of a man such as himself would.

You paused. His voice… did things to you. You’d admit it, and when he spoke like that—well, decency was a mere speck in your thought process.

“Hmm?” he pressed at your silence, shifting closer to you.

Your mouth opened but not words came out, “Uhh-“

“C’mon, sweetheart, I’m just dying to know here why you think I’m a mosquito.” he smirked at you.

“Because you’re annoying, hover around and—and, I don’t know— suck people’s blood!” you stuttered out.

Truthfully, you’d almost wished he was one. Small, annoying, and easy to kill—insignificant. It would make it so much easier to be his friend. He was in fact, the opposite. He was like a crater that had smashed your world. Drawing your thoughts to him every time you aimed to sleep at night. His teases, no matter how much you pushed back at him—“Save that for your little hunter!”—coming out of your mouth quite often, lingered in your mind for too long. His little pet names; you had to steel yourself against the hundred of “sweethearts” and “sweeties” and “kittens” (the only one you could actually ignore) that fell from his mouth in an hour. You’d almost think you weren’t just friends if it wasn’t for that hunter. His soulmate as he’s told you before. It made you a bit mad, the way he could say that and then flirt with you shamelessly. Truly, like a mosquito in that regard.

He frowned at that, “What you don’t like Mephisto? Don’t let him hear that—it’ll hurt his feelings! And secondly, you’ve just made me sound like a vampire, not a mosquito.”

“Excuse me! You know, Mephsto’s kinda creepy at first! And he’s metal, he doesn’t have feelings. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the one who says that all the time. Also! You may as well be a vampire Sylus. Dark, brooding, red eyes, nocturnal, killing people left and right; seems right to me.” you shot back.

“Ok, tell me what you really think.” he laughed, “Also I’m almost certain your vampire lore is kinda off.”

“Shut up!”

The bell dinged as you pushed open the cerulean blue door. You held open the door for the man behind you. Once you’d finished catching up at the boardwalk, you’d had the brilliant idea to get ice cream.

There was this small ice creamery on the Eastside of Linkon. It was painted a cloud gray with light blue accents. It was a quaint little place—an extension of an unassuming townhouse. The owner of the parlor lived in the floor above it. It was known for its unique flavors and ocean themed decor.

Sylus had heard all about it. It was your new favorite place as of late. Mephisto had caught you going there four times in one week once. He had yet to visit however, too busy with deals and his aether core issue.

“What can I get for you?” the employee behind the counter asked once you walked up.

“Hi. Could I get two scoops of Midnight Moon?” you said.

“Midnight Moon?” Sylus raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s really good!” you answered, “I forgot you haven’t been here yet.”

“I feel like I have with how many times I’ve seen you come here. I mean, four times in one week? Really, sweetie? One might begin to think there’s something wrong with you with how often you come in here.” Sylus said pointedly.

You scowled at him, “It’s really good, okay? You wouldn’t have even known that if you hadn’t been stalking me with Mephisto. For the record, that’s usually something only creepy people do. And by one, you mean you. You think there’s something wrong with me,” you pointed an accusatory finger at the white-haired man.

He put his hands up in defeat, “Sue me. I’m curious what you do when you have to be away from me.”

“‘When I have to be away from you?’” you quoted, in disbelief, “If I recall correctly, I’m not the one in shady business. All underhand deals and such. I’m just a simple office worker.” you teased.

Sylus sighed, “I know, I know. It kills me to be away from you,” he said sincerely.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your cup of ice cream from across the counter, “Order.”

There he went again; saying romantic things when you tried to deflect with sarcasm. He’d been doing that a lot lately. It drove you nuts. He was already so shameless, and you used to be too—when back and forth flirting didn’t feel so real. You’d started being more sarcastic meeting his flirtations with deadpan humor instead of coy words in hopes to rebuild that fragile wall around your heart, but all it did was make it worse—made him worse. It’s like he noticed your switch and was determined to wear you down. Make you fall for him even when he had Miss Hunter hanging on his every word.

“I’m good. I’ll just get a taste of yours,” he shook his head. He grabbed a second spoon from the container on the counter while nodding in acknowledgment at the worker.

“What, no! Get your own! I am not sharing my precious Midnight Moon flavor with you. Plus, you’re making me look like a fatsss!” you complained, smacking his arm.

He smirked at you, licking his lips. His eyes had a less than innocent look in them. You glared at him; you knew that look. He definitely had something to say about your “fat ass” comment. “Don’t even.” you warned.

“Don’t even what? What if I want a bite?” he asked, feigning innocence—voice a gravel tone that betrayed him.

You sighed, pulling open the door to the shop, “Let’s go you horny freak,” you tugged him along.

“Aw, baby, you know I love your hands on me.” Sylus continued.

Your jaw dropped, “What is your problem today? Miss Hunter not give you enough last night?” you snapped—irrationally upset.

You were frustrated with your own heart. He’d been flirting with you at every turn today. You couldn’t handle it, not when just yesterday you’d just been crying over what could never be between you too. You’d forgotten since it’d been so long since you’d seen Sylus. If you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, you just wanted to feel normal about your best friend again.

His eyebrows rose in shock, “You actually believe Miss Hunter and I are together?” he asked, confused.

“What?” you replied, just as confused, “Are you not?”

“No, we aren’t together, not like that. What made you think that?”

“I thought that was given, considering she’s your literal soulmate—your words, not mine by the way. That and the lengths you went to get her attention. And you also never corrected me whenever I assumed so.”

Sylus was quiet for a moment. A lot of things made sense to him in that moment. Why you’d stopped flirting back being the main one. He supposed he should’ve stopped when you had started returning his flirtations with quick banter, but he was desperate to return to the status quo. At first, he’d just thought it was a change of pace, but then he’d realize it had been your effort to shut him out—even in the flirting disguised as jokes there was something intimate for Sylus. It had assured him that the chemistry he had felt wasn’t just a delusion. The two of you had always bordered on friendship and romance. It was only natural; the way you two had first met, had been less than friendly to say the least—sultry words, wandering hands, and suggestive looks in the haze of a bar Sylus owned. You ended up not doing anything, your friends interrupting before things could escalate—whisking you away. But the tension had stayed, even when you’d called him the next day, sober that time.

You’d met up the next week. An intended date, potential x-rated escapade, turned into earnest conversation. Why nothing had come to fruition after that, Sylus didn’t know. Maybe you’d both gotten so lost in the cat-and-mouse game you two were playing that it developed into a staple of the true friendship you created as time went on. He came to rely on your direct truths and easy understanding. You had relished in his security and musings.

And then he’d met her. His fate, his other half. Miss Hunter—the aether core in her heart matching his own. He’d focused more of his time into her once he had received news of her condition. Once he’d confirmed what he suspected, he’d worked tirelessly to resonate with her. In his efforts, he lost time with you. Before he knew it, he hadn’t seen you in months. You hadn’t questioned it too much, knowing what kind of life he led. And when he finally saw you again, he told you all about it—his past life, his death, his soulmate.

You had been shocked, but accepted it nonetheless. You had encouraged him and teasingly lamented your lost time with him as priorities shifted. And yes, once he’d resonated with the hunter, he spent a lot more time with her…but he found himself missing your familiarity. While something in his soul rested near Miss Hunter, something in his mind calmed around you. Things were new and a novelty with Miss Hunter since she did not recall their past together. However, you remained the same. Doing the same things, thinking the same things. All things Sylus knew. And so he found himself wandering into Linkon, not in search of his beloved hunter, but his precious best friend instead. He found himself less and less enamored with Miss Hunter. While he cared deeply for the woman; she was kind and strong, he didn’t find himself longing for their old life anymore. He started wishing he’d been able to finish what had started at that bar forever ago, maybe then would you be in his arms freely. He wouldn’t have to rely on light provocative words to share his interest.

“Oh. We’re not.” was what he said instead.

You grimaced. This had gotten painfully awkward, “Sorry, I thought you were.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sylus said softly, insistent on keeping you from shutting down.

“I won’t.” you said, shoving a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. It tasted kind of bitter. Or maybe that was the aftertaste of all the tears you’d shed over a man you thought had been taken.

Sylus cleared his throat, “Anyway, are you coming by tonight? I heard they’ve got some impressive performances lined up.”

“Ah—maybe.” you replied. Your mouth still felt like sand, “I’ve got some things I need to catch up on though.”

Sylus wasn’t so dense as to know that was his cue. He extended the moto helmet out to you, “You still live Westside right?”

“Yep. Pretty sure you already knew that though.” you teased, trying to ease the uncomfortable tension between you too.

He laughed quietly, “Maybe. Thought I’d ask. Since, you know, someone told me it was creepy.”

“It is.” you insisted as you climbed onto the back of his bike once more.

Once you got home, you went straight to your bed. Your mind was reeling. Sylus and Miss Hunter weren’t together. They were just friends. But they were soulmates. Contradictory, no? You supposed soulmates could be platonic. You’d considered that when Sylus first told you about her. And then that had shattered the longer he talked. Their past lives for one—but the way he spoke of her was the real seller. There was no way they could possibly be platonic.

And yet, here he was, telling you it was platonic. What changed? you wondered.

Regardless, it almost made you more confused. It should be clear really, but it really really wasn’t. And then he’d invited you back to the bar, the one you’d first met in. The one on the border of the N109, but not in it. The one where you’d first felt his hands touch you, his enchanting words, his sharp gaze—the one that made you feel exposed and devoured—one that you felt yourself succumbing to.

You looked at yourself in the mirror across your room. Your eyes looked exhausted, your skin looked stressed and your hair looked like it had been electrified. Should you go? You “had some things to catch up on”, remember? Yeah, that’d been a lie. A cheap escape. You figured Sylus probably knew that too.

Sighing, you rolled out of your bed. If you were going to submit yourself to a torture of missed gazes and sexual tension then you’d at least look good.

Ah. The smell of booze and sweat. What an enticing aroma, you thought sarcastically. It’s loud in here.

You smirked. You remembered this place well. Not much had changed and Sylus hadn’t lied about the energy in the bar tonight. On the stage, dazzling women twirled and danced. Lights strobed across the room, washing the space in red light. People thronged together, dancing and drinking and dealing—all money that would end up in Sylus’ endless pockets.

You headed toward the bar-top. You needed some alcohol if you were going to make it through the night. You didn’t know what Sylus wanted specifically, but it probably wasn’t something that was going to be easy on your heart.

After taking a few shots and greeting the bartender who somehow still recognized you even though it’d been months, you headed to the dance floor. You weren’t sure where Sylus was, but to be fair, you hadn’t searched very hard. You figured he’d make himself known when he wanted to. It felt good to move so freely. You’d forgotten what it was like, so caught up in work and life. Maybe you should come to the N109 Zone more often. Just kidding, you weren’t trying to get jumped unless it was someone jumping your bones.

You rolled your shoulders as the melody of the music flowed over you. You could feel the beat of the track in alignment with every pulse of your heart. Your mind became a mix of lyrics and elation. You let the music overtake you, dictate your movements.

As you swayed to the music, you felt a body press up behind you. Your eyes shot open, turning over your shoulder to see who had intruded your space. There he was, the man of the hour. Sylus’ arm wrapped around your waist, “I see someone decided to come have a little fun. Thought you had some things to ‘catch up on’.” he questioned into your ear.

You leaned back into him, humming coyly, “I suppose I could spare some time.” you brought one hand to rest on his shoulder behind you, still swaying to the music.

“It’s good to see you here.” he continued.

“You just saw me though.” you replied, giggling. You weren’t sure if it was the buzz from the alcohol or the excitement from the dance floor that kept your mood pleasant, the sour mood of your last interaction with the man behind you the last thought on your mind.

“I know, baby. But like I said, it kills me to be away from you.” he muttered, teeth grazing your neck.

You jumped, shivering at the contact. You tilted your head up at him questioning. “Just relax.” he purred, pulling you closer.

Against your better judgement you did as he said. You closed your eyes, pushing your head against his.

“You look gorgeous, sweetie.” he said, voice low, meant just for you. “Breath taking, really. You’re almost too good. Someone might think they can take you.”

“Oh yeah?” you sighed back, barely audible, “And who would that someone be. Tell me Sylus, who’s going to come take me?”

“Who do you want to take you?” he replied, hands sliding to your hips, “Tell me that first, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you grinned, coyly, “Maybe somebody strong and big. Somebody who’s pretty awesome, and a little nocturnal—maybe a little vampiric.”

He huffed a laugh, head dropping to your shoulder, “Or maybe someone mosquito-like?” he questioned.

You smiled loosely now, “Yes, maybe. You’re kind of proving it now.” you could feel the beginning of light marks forming where he latched to your neck.

He made a contented noise against you before drawing a breath, “This feels familiar, you know.” he breathed out.

You gazed at him, salaciously, “Perhaps a little. I don’t know though, you might have to remind me.”

“Would you let me?” he asked.

“Only if you were truthful about Miss Hunter.” you stated, voice a little more edged this time. You hated to do it but, you couldn’t, in good conscience, go the way this interaction was headed without it. Even though you were content in his arms, the deep sensical part of your brain brought your most recent conflict back up.

He paused behind you, hands slackening slightly. You brought your own down to keep his there.

“Baby,” he started.

“I know.” you cut him off, “I know and I’m sorry but I-“

He drew a circle into your side with his right hand, sucking in a breath, “It’s okay. I get it, I promise. Miss Hunter and I, no matter what may have once been, do not love each other like the way you think. It means nothing now.”

“But you care about her, no?” you questioned. You hated that it was going this way, but you just couldn’t shake your feelings of inadequacy.

“Of course I care about her, sweetheart. That is to be expected, I’m sure you know that. But the way I feel about her, and the way I feel about you are very different. She may have been my soulmate, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t the opportunity for a different love to take its place, and you have. I will always love Miss Hunter, but not in the way I crave you now. Not in the way I love you now. I promise you that.” Sylus spoke with the most sincerity you’d ever heard from him. There was no extra bravado nor any teasing quips, only unfiltered truth and conviction.

You didn’t think anything would happen between you two. Not since the first time you met and nothing happened, even with all the tension between you too. But now, you felt that everything could happen. And you were eager to explore it.

“I love you. More than a best friend should.” you told him, although you figured he knew.

“I love you too.” he replied instantly, “More than a best friend should.” he added.

You took a moment to appreciate the man above you, meeting his gaze with the intensity of desire.

He tilted your head up, lips nearly brushing yours, “Am I allowed to take you now?”

#lads sylus x reader #sylus x reader #sylus x non mc reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace x reader #sylus qin x reader #lnds x reader #sylus x you

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