#on the other hand. people I don’t know. expecting things of me

[ruinedsapphic]

Sevika x ambessa where fighting turns into sex 💪😍😍

“GO EASY ON ME, WILL YOU?”

pairings: Sevika x Ambessa Medarda :3 (straight wuh luh wuh)

warnings: Sevika x Ambessa (I have no idea if people hate or like this ship), the ask says it all, fighting, mentions of blood, smut, fingering (s receiving), domxdom turns into forced submission, doomed yuri, all third person view, drinking, bottom/switch sevika + power dom Ambessa :333 I’m gonna cum I swear, intentional lower case so don’t even, not actual plot so… !!THIS IS REALLY LONG IDK WHY!!, it’s not finished.

sevika, the strongest woman in zaun was at the brothel, lord it’s almost like all the time she’s in it. but, she’s only in it to keep her mind off certain things. sevika took a sip from her drink, passing out the cards for the card game she always won in. Almost as if everyone at the table knew she was some sort of cheater at the game, as if she knew all the cards in everyone’s deck for some reason.

just from across, it was ambessa. the mother of mel medarda. ambessa watched the zaunite woman pass the cards around, her gaze flicking down to the mechanical arm and hand. the mechanics of the fingers tossing the cards and shuffling them before the game so easily. she scoffed to herself and downed herself a drink once again. “That woman is going to kill me by the end of this goddamn day.” she then got up.

were all pretty sure ambessa is the tallest woman in the brothel so far, beating sevikas height by 8 inches. though, to ambessa..she definitely had some feelings for the zaunite woman, who wouldn’t?

the brothel continued to roar shouts, music, laughter and all of that from the above. ambessa would be there for like whatever reason but she’s usually around town to try local cuisines.

“hey, girl with the arm.” ambessa said, trying to get the zaunite attention. her hand waving in the air, but when she didn’t actually get the woman’s attention, she got up, walking over to her. then the taller woman of color tapped on the woman sitting in the chair, sevika paused in her tracks, “yeah?”

well..not quite expected. ambessa noticed it was actually sevika herself; the woman who she had to deal with from years before and her eyebrow raised, “come with me.”

“I’m in the middle of a ca—“

“Did I stutter?”

the zaunite stood up with a sigh, she took a sip from her beer before leaving it on the table to get up, heading her way to follow the mother of the famous Mel Medarda. “see you soon,” She called back to her group and followed the woman like a lost puppy.

after a bit of walking around the brothel, they come to a final end and stand in front of each other before ambessa moved in and grabbed sevika by her cloak, her hands swiftly tearing it off. “you know I still remember you, no?” The zaunite woman fully sighed, she pulled her cloak back and covered her mechanical arm. “Almost like every other day you’re here to fight me.”

the only thing ambessa did was give off a smirk, “maybe I’m here to fight?” in which it resulted the zaunite to groan out, “you know I’m tired.” sevika would settle down into a chair, but ambessa didn’t even bother for her to sit, she was NOT giving this poor zaunite a break. “one day i better get a god damn massage, I don’t got all of my adult years to keep kicking asses”

ambessa pushed sevika a bit and snapped at her, “don’t try to change the topic, zaunite.” the taller woman briefly stated, sevika groaning again before pushing her back, “what are you even here for again?”

“Another rematch.”

“i’m tired.”

“another rematch.”

“but I’m- ugh.”

———————————————————————————

not even 30 minutes later the fight stopped, there was still ruthless cursing and yelling, swinging fights, cheers, people avoiding the fight and others cheering. occasionally sevika would dominate the fight first, grabbing the taller woman with both hands and pushing her down on the ground before grabbing her jaw, forcing the woman of color down on the floor to look right at her.

“you don’t learn the first time, no?” sevika asked, her mechanical hand gripping on ambessa’s chin as if demanding for an answer. the woman down on the floor was disheveled, a few cut marks across her lip and her clothes slightly torn, a small contrast from sevika who’s metal arm was completely full of scratches, her nose slightly bleeding but she wiped it off with the back of her hand. no they were NOT playing a cat fight .. “all you do is come around ask for anot—” sevika was briefly paused at ambessa grabbing the mechanical hand and pushing it away from her chin, grabbing the metal hand tightly and getting up, using her height as an advantage before roughly pushing sevika instead. sevika looked up at the woman with a raised eyebrow, “psh…again? seriously?” she scoffed, not wanting to take another fight but who said it was going to be another fight. “…meet me in the back when you’re done with those filthy games of yours. unless you most likely want yourself dead and open in the streets.”

———————————————————————————

“meet me in the back when you’re done with those filthy games of yours.”

sevika listened, maybe the only time she kinda did. she entered the back rooms and opened the door, looking around to find ambessa, walking forward into the room and settling down at the table before ambessa appeared just behind her, the woman pushing sevika down against the table, her front pressing firmly against sevika’s behind.

“..not again.” sevika tried to push herself back up but no!!!! ambessa was definitely not letting it happen. she leaned down to sevika’s ear from behind. the insane body build covering sevika by a lot. they were both muscular and packed but…it was the size difference. “how about a little game of..this? whoever submits first is the loser, yeah?”

Of course, sevika has never bottomed out with any partners especially in the brothel with all the ladies, but would she even handle ambessa? apart of her DEFINITELY said no, but the other half yes.

———————————————————————————

“g-go easy on me! will you?!” sevika squirmed, looking down at ambessa who’s literally eating the zaunite out, her rough hands gripping sevika’s thighs and keeping them firm and still. We definitely knew who the loser was.

ambessa’s tongue swirled around the sensitive nub, her tongue occasionally sliding down to meet her entrance and her fingers parting out her folds, also swarming the arousal from sevika all over the place. the session definitely had gotten sloppy and all messy. sevika face contorted with pleasure, her thighs shaking while TRYING her hardest to push the woman’s mouth off her. It had been orgasm after orgasm. She was never getting a break!! poor sevika :((

“I know..I’m just so, so mean to you..can’t even give you a poor break.”

She bit down on the woman’s inner thighs, making marks that were visible but not enough to inflict pain. sevika made out ragged breaths, tossing her head back on the chair while ambessa was still on her knees, sevika’s arm falling to her side and her other one covering her mouth to restrain her noises. I know damn well she was enjoying that .. her head was still thrown back while muffling out sounds, her throat full display while her adams apple was definitely there..bobbing every time she made out a muffled sound.

“killing me here..” sevika whined out and looked down, her back only arching just slightly, her chest heaving; her v line was literally covered in ambessa’s saliva and love bites. it was a top favorite part of sevika’s body ambessa herself enjoyed. “Killing you? Tsk, keep talking for me, yeah? give me some company while I ruin the fuck out this pussy.”

———————————————————————————

A.N: NO IM NOT FINISHED ACTUALLY BUT GUYS 😭😭💔 I NEED TO POST THIS CAUSE I NEED TO. ILL MAKE ANOTHER SOON BUT ITS 2 AM. SCHLAWG PLEASE CATCH ME A BREAK TOO ??? Caitlyn post soon guys..

[grendil5]

Still by far the creepiest thing that happened to me so far on this site. My instincts were on fire and still are.

To start it was one of my worst worded posts when there were other, way better ones of the same length. Funnier too and more relevant than a two billion year old comic.

But I’m expected to believe my shadowban was magically lifted for this post alone? And a swarm of people were summoned to mock and torment and judge and humiliate me for it?

None of it feels likely, unless there’s a knowing hand behind it: “This is the post, not too relevant, not too well written, send it.”

This was too far. Genuinely one of my least accurately or impactfully worded post.

Also you can tell people are terrified to engage with me which is good I guess.

If they’re non-golems that means they aren’t being slow-killed as quickly under lies and false beliefs. I shook them. Hopefully. Perhaps shaken them out of one altogether in Jesus name. Slowly they’ll start to see the truth, maybe it saves them from evil.

If they are golems then they didn’t engage because they’re just too stupid, and they don’t trust themselves to argue correctly against the truth. They’re not creative enough, they’re flesh, and like most golems they’re used to their Skeksis handlers doing everything for them. They really are just dumb objects that grow increasingly useless and doomed as the Skeksis’s enemies disappear.

what the fuck

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Imagine being kidnapped by Tom Ludlow.

Hi anon. This got out of hand. I’m sorry. CW: mentions of child abuse/dark humor concerning it, rape/noncon fantasies and details. I write from a place of my own trauma, and it gets a little fucked up. If you don’t like dark fics, or are triggered easily, DO NOT READ THIS. Violence, bad cops, SA. Tom Ludlow is not the bad guy in this, though.

If you’re a big girl, a tall girl, a girl with a lot of muscle or fat, you probably haven’t been picked up off the ground since you were very young.

You question your femininity because of it, along with a whole lot of other shit that society decides to push on you for not having a traditional feminine figure…whatever the hell that is.

You often take on a more protective, mothering or masculine roll with your smaller or daintier or gentler friends. You don’t look down on them at all—or envy them too often. Some people just carry a unique tenderness that you wish the world had more of. But every little rainbow or sunbeam needs their strong protective cloud, and you mostly gladly, sometimes reluctantly take on this role.

You will never be a meek, kind, delicate person. It’s just not going to happen. You don’t want it to happen. You’re pretty comfortable with your role in life. It’s just…sometimes…and this is probably something that everyone craves in vulnerable moments…you want to be the one getting protected.

It’s just kind of exhausting, always being there for everyone else. As much as you love it, and you do, it can also really drain you.

The duality of man is that we can be more than one type of person, and want different things. You know this. But…it’s hard as hell to admit you want to be taken care of. Because doesn’t that ruin your tough facade? Your strength and independence? Doesn’t that let everyone know that you’re just putting on an act to cover up who you really are—a weak, sniveling girl?

That’s why you bottle up, keep things to yourself, regard the world cynically and humorously with a lazy shrug of your shoulder. You act like nothing gets to you, like you are a stoic guard at the queen’s gate, like a big mastiff on patrol of your sheep.

When you do wear an emotion, more often than not it’s either sarcasm or…anger. Like tonight, when some guy won’t leave your friend alone at the bar.

She’s visibly uncomfortable and attempting escape from the creep following her around. She’s too nice to tell him to go away, but you’re not, and you have had to put yourself between them way, way too many times.

“She’s not interested,” you tell him.

He sneers at you. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Except he fucking doesn’t, because ten seconds later he’s smacking her ass when she stands up, and you’re punching him in the mouth.

He hits you back, and it feels like a slap from a two year old, but it startles your fight or flight, and before you know it, your vision is blurry with rage and your fists are flying.

The security guards have to pull you off of one another and haul you outside to where the police are waiting with cuffs.

“He was harassing my friend,” you tell the guy who’s chaperoning you.

“Her ugly ass is just jealous cuz nobody wants her!” Screams scumbag from down the sidewalk.

Wow, you’ve never heard that one before.

One of the cops grabs him by the collar and says something that appears to be stern with his finger pointed at his face.

The guy looks visibly shaken after that, and he specifically avoids looking in your direction again.

The ballsy officer, probably in some sort of supervising position by the looks of it, gets to you next, and you have to crane your neck up to look at him.

You expect anger, but his face is neutral as he pulls a pen and paper from his utility belt. “Hello, ma’am, my name is officer Ludlow with the LAPD. You mind telling me what went on here tonight?”

You tick through the list of events as best you can, trying not to paint yourself as innocent (because with the way you beat on him, you’re definitely not), but making sure he knows what a fucking reprobate you were up against, and he scribbles it all down diligently.

After you’re done, he flicks his chin at the officer standing next to you. “Reed, let her go.”

They uncuff you, and you roll your arms, testing the circulation and rubbing out the raw red marks on your wrists. “Thanks,” you tell the lead officer. “You mind if I go back in and get my friends? There’s only three of us and I’m worried about them…”

“I can’t let you go back in,” officer Ludlow says, “but give us their names and descriptions, and I’ll send Reed in for them, alright?”

You nod, comply, and a few tense moments later Abby is running out to wrap her arms around your shoulders, smearing her glittery tears and pink blush on your jacket.

You hug her back, picking her up a little bit off the ground with the ferocity of your relief, and look at officer Ludlow over her head. “Thanks,” you tell him.

Tye, arriving from the thicket of people at the entrance a few moments later, immediately wants to know what happened.

She, however, is interrupted, by the asshole down the sidewalk, still in cuffs. “Hope you think of me when you see that handprint on your cute little ass tomorrow!” He calls, and Abby turns away, choking on a sob.

You’ve always had anger issues. Usually, in adulthood, they’re pretty easy to tame down. Not in this circumstance, not when you see Abby shaking and crying, looking as defenseless as a baby mouse.

Unbeknownst to you, because your sight and sound have been marginally narrowed to one person who needs his face bludgeoned in so hard that he finally shuts the fuck up, the head officer has already signaled for them to haul this guy into the back of a police car.

You’re not sure how you cross the distance between you and him so fast—you’re built for endurance, not speed—but suddenly your fists are connecting with his flesh again, and there’s a lot of yelling and pulling and finally your feet leave the ground and your knuckles leave his face.

It takes you a minute to realize you are being carried away—that your feet are not on land—and you look up at the person whose arms are currently wrapped around you.

Like mentioned before, it’s been a long, long time since someone has picked you up and you’ve lost your center of gravity so quickly and so thoroughly. Like a startled animal, you fight to try and get back to the ground, more out of shock and adrenalized fear than anything.

You don’t mean to scratch or bite the nice officer, you really don’t.

Ludlow just sighs at your resistance, like he could be doing something much more important right now rather than manhandling you into the back of a squad car like you’re an ornery kitten rather than a formidable opponent.

You are silenced into shock the whole way to the police station.

They put you in the waiting room sans cuffs, and you’re not sure how much time passes until a heavy presence plops down on the plastic chair next to you.

“Fuck,” is the first thing you say to Ludlow. “My friends…”

“They’re safe. I’m giving them an escort back home.”

He gives you some room temp water, and after the fear wears off, grants you enough time to come back to your good senses. You look at him sheepishly, with your head tucked down. “Sorry, he was a fucking creep.”

Ludlow nods. “I get it, hopefully I can get you out of it with a slap on the wrist.” He hands you some tissues from his breast pocket. “Wipe that blood off your face.”

You didn’t realize you were bleeding, so it’s a shock to finally feel the ache of a bloody lip and bruised cheek and see the paper come back crimson streaked.

After a few long moments of silence, you say, “I feel like an asshole.”

He shrugs, leans back, grins over at you. You fight the urge to flush at his crooked smile. He’s a handsome man. Sometimes you like those. “Asshole, no. Dumb, maybe. He could have really fucked you up.”

“I handled myself just fine.”

“Your split lip will disagree tomorrow morning. Lemme see.” He holds out his hand, as if for you to rest your chin in, and you’re not sure what brain malfunction gets you to comply. You are not a good listener by any means, especially for men in positions of authority or power.

Maybe it’s sexist, maybe it’s unfair. Spend your whole childhood getting the shit taken out of you by a man that’s supposed to love and care for and protect you, and then decide what’s fair and what’s not.

He whistles low, turning you this way and that with a tenderness you don’t expect from calloused, bear paw hands with knuckles like golf balls. “I’ll give it to you, you’ve got balls. Bigger than most men I’ve met.”

Your mouth betrays your tough girl facade, and lets a tiny smile hike up the edge despite the stinging pain that follows.

Officer Ludlow gets you out with a slap on the wrist—aka a misdemeanor—just like he said he was going to. You tell him thank you about ten million times for saving your ass, and for offering to give you a ride back to the bar to get your car.

“I’ve already put you out too much tonight,” you tell him. “I’ll get a Taxi or something.”

“It’s a Saturday night,” he says, jangling the keys in his beater pocket. “By the time you get to the bar, you’re gonna be towed. C’mon.”

You open the back door of his charger, but he shakes his head and, instead, opens up his passenger seat for you to slide in.

It’s about now you’re starting to get a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach, like something is off about this interaction. You’re not one to trust easily, and getting in the car with a complete stranger, although one in uniform, is out of character to say the least.

Your radar has really been fucked up tonight. By the alcohol, the scumbag, the being arrested, the bruising and tearing of your knuckles. What a way to end it, you think, if Ludlow is a bad guy.

The funny feeling in your guts that you decide to ignore this one time? It turns out to be right. And as Tom Ludlow starts driving up through the deserted hills, in the opposite direction of the bar your car is at, you almost want to burst out laughing at how stupid you are.

Asshole, no. Dumb? Fucking definitely.

You test his door handle and he snorts at you; like he’s saying, you think I’m that stupid?

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” you grumble, sizing him up from the corner of your eye, deciding whether to fight or flight or just give up now. He’s thin, but he’s broad. Tall. Not lanky. He won’t be easy to push over. You’ll have to bite, claw eyes out, rip his hair from his head. Make sure he doesn’t pull that shiny pistol out of his belt before you can jump on him.

You could do it right here in the car and risk barreling over the steep hillside on your right. You could—

“Hey,” he says, calmly, capturing you too easily from your violent thoughts, “it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

A part of you wants to believe him, or maybe just believe there’s still some good in the world—some good in men. Hell, maybe leprechauns exist, too. You never know.

He looks sideways at you when you giggle in response to these reassuring words, as if you’re the one who’s fucking psycho. “I’ve heard that one before.”

He makes a pensive sound, air puffing from his nostrils, switches gears as the incline increases. “Daddy beat you up?”

Well, fuck it, might as well share all your sob stories if this is really happening tonight. “Uncle, actually.”

“Sorry,” he says, and you hazard a glance over to see if his face matches his empathetic tone—it, surprisingly, does. “He still alive?”

“No.”

You must be violently shaking to compensate for the repression of a panic attack, because his still, steady hand on your shoulder pauses the tremors. “It’s okay,” he assures, like he’s trying to soothe a crying kid. You have to admit, his voice is a cool ointment for hot nerves, even if he’s the reason for them in the first place.

The brain has a funny way of dealing with things like this. There’s about a 30% chance his intentions are raping you, because with his looks he could get any lady in the city of lights for free, but rapists and molesters rarely think about physical attractiveness when it actually comes down to the act. Psychologists say it’s more about the power trip for them. And, at least, if he is going to fuck you, he’s not exactly the worst man that you could pick to do it.

At least he’s hot, is what it boils down to. Because you’re a disgusting degenerate. Because your coping skills are a ticking time bomb, a broken record, stuck back at the part of your life where you had to start liking the way uncle Eddy touched you to deal with the shame and the despair of it.

Officer Ludlow’s gonna pick you right up off the ground again, slam you into his backseat, tug your pants and underwear down in one go. He’ll make you beg him to fuck your pussy instead of your unprepared and untainted ass, use his spit as lube, rub his meaty fingers over your puffy lips and taunt you when his saliva encounters your slippery cum. He’ll smack your ass for liking this, leave big red handprints, whisper in your ear that you’re gonna remember him, not just tomorrow, but for weeks after he gets done working your cunt. That he should kill you and leave your body out for the flies, but he wants you to live just so you can feel the way he destroyed your pussy.

The charger slows to a halt out in the sticks, and you have no idea where the fuck you are or how long you’ve been driving. The night is thick black soup in a boiling pot, and his headlights cut through it meagerly. It’s enough light to see what’s happening ahead, though, and when you look over at him curiously, he is grinning at you.

The man from the bar who assaulted your friend is in cuffs, an officer on each arm holding him in place. You don’t feel bad at all when you notice his swollen lip and purple temple, but you do wish you would have gotten more hits in.

Lucky for you, Officer Ludlow has you covered.

“Do you want to hit him?” He asks, unclipping his seat belt. “Or do you wanna watch?”

You blink a few times in response, not sure what to say to this brutally kind gesture. This man who barely knows you is helping you exact revenge against his own brethren. You’ve never been so…flattered.

“Don’t tell me you’re attempting to grow a conscience?” He teases.

“I wanna hit him.”

To your disappointment, Ludlow is not a total savage. He lets you get 3 or 4—it’s hard to remember the exact number—good hits on this dirtbag, and even wraps your knuckles up in a cushiony flannel from his back seat beforehand. His only rule is, “stay away from his ugly ass face. I don’t need him coming back to the station more fucked up than it already is.”

You get him in the stomach, the ribs, kick him so hard in his dick that you feel the hard pelvic bone underneath. Maybe it’s only a couple hits, but you make them count. And when you start to ache, or get tired, all you have to do is remember the tears smearing Abbie’s pretty glitter eyeliner down her face.

If he does say anything to you, you don’t hear it. Or maybe he really doesn’t, because Ludlow stands behind you like a watchful wolfhound the entire time, and then escorts you back to his car with a heavy arm over your shaking shoulders.

“Good job,” he praises, seeming very amused and unaffected by this whole ordeal while you are trembling, soaked with sweat, panting like a hooker in a fur coat. “It’s alright, he had it coming. Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”

You do as he says, momentarily escaping your fury in favor of his calming voice and soft black eyes.

“You did amazing. Lemme see the knuckles.”

He takes your hand in his, and you notice the size difference first, and then the warm, damp, pleasant heat second.

There’s been a lot of firsts tonight: someone’s hands being larger than your own (big lady hands should’ve been your nickname in highschool), being picked up off the ground past the age of 7, a man going out of his way to do something nice for you—because your brain decides that’s how it’s going to frame this scenario whether you like it or not, as some fucked up little date on Tom Ludlow’s dime.

You feel safe with your hand tucked into his and the heat of his skin and the cozy intimacy of being belted into his vehicle. You feel grateful that good men still exist. You feel…tight, twisted up in some deprived box of longing you’ve made permanent home in.

You leave the sanctuary of your comfort zone, and have another first, as you cross his center console and kiss a man on his mouth.

For a moment where you feel like your heart is suspended on the edge of a very tall cliff, he freezes. This stiff resistance immediately makes you want to pull away, but, before you can, he wraps his hand around your chin and pulls you deep into his mouth.

Arthur from college, Monica from New Orleans…Hell, even Uncle Eddie—they have nothing on Officer Tom Ludlow with his big, slick tongue and muscular lips.

It’s so good you can almost ignore the fresh sting of your split lip.

He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, and murmurs a laugh when you give him a low groan for the effort, then takes your angry little grumble and dampens it with his renewed fervor. His hands remain gentle and chaste on your face, your neck, your shoulders, even though there is nothing gentlemanly about the way he devours your mouth. He does not push for more, does not hold you down with those big hands that absolutely could if they wanted to.

You set the pace, you pull him closer, you push him back when you need to gasp for air.

He licks the taste of you from his tilted, beautiful lips. “You have to breathe through your nose, honey.”

“Sorry,” you say, crossing your arms over yourself, pressing back against the door, away from him.

His lazy smile droops. “Are you alright?”

”I just…Can you take me to my car? If not I can—“

The thick start of his engine cuts you off.

The car ride back is silent. You think about turning on the radio a few times, but don’t want to cross more boundaries than you already have. Luckily, he flips it on for the both of you and you’ve never, ever been so happy to hear Metallica.

When he parks, cutting the engine off in the nearly deserted garage, the tension between you immediately peaks, sizzling like vinegar on baking soda. He wraps a long limb over the back of your seat, looks confused—vulnerable for such a big, scary man, and he makes your heart twang a lonely cord.

He seems almost boyish, when he asks if he can take you out sometime.

And you want to say yes. Every feral primordial part of you does, anyway. But then there’s the rational part, the one that should and does win most of the time. You’ve already snubbed that part too much tonight, so you politely decline Ludlow’s offer, and with your traitorous heart padlocked and chained back into your breast cavity, you say goodbye to the nice officer.

[drdemonprince]

hello, (former) abuser friend anon back again, I just wanted to sort of answer the other anon’s question and thank you for your thoughtful and comforting response.

To answer: I do feel fully relaxed around this person, for better or for worse, and I do trust them to not repeat their behavior because I have had to be in conflict with this person (a huge part of being friends/expressing love, imho) and they have handled it calmly and respectfully and made me feel heard and supported, and I have seen them do that for a lot of people in their current community, and my new one. I don’t expect them to be perfect, and honestly I don’t expect them to never be tempted to reach for the toolset of abuse as you both have described it. But I expect them to react better and better every time they are confronted with something they find triggering, and also to handle the conflict that comes from reaching from those toolsets with the love and care I expect from my friends. I hope that’s the right thing to do and not enabling, but as you noted Dr Price said I’ve never forced their victims to share space with them, and I don’t feel very protective of this person in the sense that I think the other anon is talking about). But it’s all very complicated and if my feelings change in the future I think that’s okay too, and if they revert back to their prior self they know that they’ll lose my relationship to them. But truly from the bottom of my heart thank you both, I feel like I have gained some ease in my reflection of this relationship <3

awww thank you so much for messaging Anon. That upward, cyclical process of working through conflicts and learning new and better strategies is what recovery looks like, I think. And truth be told, as someone who has done plenty of things I regret, I've learned a lot from engaging in productive, healing conflict with people who have done their share of bad things, too. If anything, I feel more accepted when i'm around people who can own their shit and show the capacity to change than when i'm around people who either demand perfection or seem entirely stuck. In my life I've only known a small handful of completely unrepentant abusive people -- and those are the types I never want to be around. The majority, instead, have been simply really traumatized and neglected folks who reached for what limited tools they had for a very long time, and were downright relieved to find something better to do. They've wanted to keep learning new ways of dealing with things. I hope you and your friend continue to have a good time learning from one another, and it's heartening to hear that you're in a pretty secure-sounding place, should that ever change. Sometimes people take big steps backward when they're ill, relapsing, injured, experiencing loss, and so on -- and you always have the right to take your distance if that's how it goes. But there's always a possibility of us learning to work through the roughness better, and together.

[sinnabarmoth]

Trusting You

Pairing: Rafayel x fem|Reader

Summary: Reader is bisexual but hasn't come out to anyone before. She decides that she's going to tell her boyfriend Rafayel first.

Content warnings: None

Length: 1k

~~~

You felt like throwing up. Which probably wasn’t a good sign. Then again, you had felt nauseous the other times you tried to do this. This would make your third attempt at coming out to your boyfriend.

You knew from an early age that you liked boys and a little later on you started to figure out girls were pretty too. Was your first crush on that mermaid princess in your one storybook? Yes. Was there a girl in your primary school that you had developed a crush on and didn’t know how to deal with it so you avoided her at all costs instead? Yes. Have you told anyone that you are bisexual? No.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of who you were or anything, and you really had nothing to fear living in Linkon and being queer. But the fact remained that you were scared that coming out would change things between you and the people you cared about. You didn’t want things to change. Life was going pretty well. You were doing well at work, you had great friends, and your boyfriend Rafayel was the literal sweetest.

But as time stretched on you felt the weight of your hidden sexuality bearing down on you. So, you had decided that you had enough of living in the closet. You were going to come out and be proud of who you were and to hell with anyone that treated you differently because of it. Out of everyone you thought of telling you decided that you wanted to tell Rafayel first.

It wasn’t because you had found some hot new girlfriend to run off with but you trusted him. Rafayel had never shied away from being supportive of the queer community and had even done a charity auction of some of his exclusive pieces to raise money for trans youth. So you knew you had nothing to fear, but getting the actual words out was proving harder than expected.

You had tried once while over dinner and chickened out. You tried again at the charity auction but again couldn’t say it. Now you were at home with Rafayel, the two of you watching a movie. You weren’t sure why you decided this was when you wanted to try telling him again. Maybe because it was so normal. There was no pressure in this instant.

You kept glancing at him, unable to focus on the screen. It’s was just three little words. “I am bisexual.” That’s all you had to say and it would finally be out there and you wouldn’t have to carry around this secret anymore. At least not around Raf.

Your head was on his shoulder, a blanket draped across your laps. His arm around you was tracing soothing circles across your skin. You focused on the motion, taking even slow breaths to calm yourself.

In and out. In…and out… You could do this. Three little words.

“Raf,” you forced the words out, “Can I tell you something?”

“You know you can tell me anything.” he turned his attention away from the tv. “What is it?”

“I just…I um…” and there your tongue went to lead again.

His brow furrowed as he saw the sentence stuck in your throat. He quickly paused the movie and pulled you closer. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, I just…” you took a deep breath and screwed your eyes shut. “I’m bisexual.”

There was silence. Followed by a soft. “Oh.”

“And I’m not saying this for any particular reason! I promise.” your hands fisted the blanket, your eyes still shut tight. “I really do love you and only you but I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time now but every time I tried I kept getting nervous and not doing it. And I don’t want this to change anything with us. Really I don’t. And if you need a minute to think about this--”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Rafayel put a finger to your lips, “Calm down. You’re gonna run out of air talking that fast.”

You peeked your eyes open. “Sorry.”

“No. You don’t need to apologize. I have no problem with you being bisexual, I’m happy that you told me.” he said giving you a reassuring smile. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that you couldn’t come out to me sooner.”

“It isn’t you. I know you wouldn’t have cared it’s just…” you took another breath and gathered your thoughts, “I haven’t told anyone about it. Ever. Not any of my friends or family. I’ve known for years but I always felt weird when I thought of bringing it up.”

“Cause you didn’t want things to change.” He said.

You nodded. “But I’ve been in the closet for so long and I was getting sick of it. And I knew I could trust you to not freak out about it.”

“I get it. I’m proud of you though. And I love you, exactly as you are.” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And whether you want to tell others in the future or if this is just between us right now that is fine. We’re gonna go at your pace, but I know everyone else will still love and cherish you no matter who you are capable of falling in love with.”

You melted against him, endorphins rushing through your blood and filling your mind with warmth as you finally truly relaxed for the first time in years. That weight that had been dragging you down for years finally being lifted to let you have this moment of acceptance and peace.

“Thanks.” you whispered. “I really needed to hear that.”

There was a moment of silence as you let yourself calm back down. Then Rafayel chuckled. You looked up at him. “What?”

“I can’t lie, my first reaction when you came out was, ‘Hi bisexual. I’m Rafayel.’” he said with a teasing smile.

You grabbed the pillow and whacked him with a laugh and roll of your eyes. “You are so lucky I love you, you dork.”

[venomwrites]

Something about the dictator cape because her striding around in it like that is so fucking hot?

Vi’s world comes back in blues. 

Powder’s cyan splatters across buildings. It stains people’s hair and hands and billows into the sky through vents. It’s bright and loud and so hard to look at sometime. When Vi sees it all she hears is a scream. Like if Powder can just scream loud enough it will bring back their dad, Isha and Milo and all the others. Somewhere in that scream is Silco’s black-gold eye winks back. Nowhere in it is Caitlyn’s mom. 

Ekko’s turquoise cuts in the gaps. The tree is wilting and he’s nowhere to be found, but the Firelights flash out of her eyes sometimes. Still fighting, still holding onto what he was taught. It’s the closest echo of home Vi can find. When Powder vanishes again that’s where she shows up. They let her in with only a few questions asked. Vi pretends they don’t sting. Then she falls fast first into the softest cot she’s ever felt and sleeps for two days straight. 

Caitlyn wraps herself in midnight blue and blankets Vi’s world with it. Every time she goes outside she sees it hovering. Above the splatters and the dyed hair and all the chaos. For a moment Vi thought it was the blue of purpose, of belonging. But now things are right again. And it’s just the same blue that’s made her ache since she was a kid. Nothing good comes from that midnight shade. It’s just a bigger set of bars on a bigger cell that Vi calls home. 

Before when Caitlyn was pissed, Vi could content herself with ghosts. 

Now she won’t leave her the fuck alone. 

Every time she surfaces there’s someone there. An Enforcer who looks too long. A gutter rat whose dressed too well. She knows she’s been watched. They are running out of ways in and out. None of them come near the entrances and exits, but the speed with which they turn away is making people uncomfortable. 

“They cannot know about this place,” Chireen says.

“She’s already been here,” Vi points out. He gives her a hard look, “alright, alright. I’ll go talk to them.” 

She finds the nearest pretend gutter rat who immediately does the worst impression of a drunkard Vi has ever seen. Of course she’s something of an expert on the subject, but he’s particularly awful. Without any pretense she hauls him up and holds him against the wall. He is immediately in a defensive position.

“I need to see her,” she says. He nods and pulls out a pair of cuffs, “that’s a fucking joke right?”

“Protocol, I could—“

“Forget it,” she doesn’t have time for this Enforcer bullshit. She shoves her wrists out, “take me in.” 

There’s no color in Stillwater. 

Vi should have figured this would be how things play out. Naturally if there was a way to make Vi’s life suck more, Caitlyn was going to find it and make a protocol about it. Vi doesn’t even know why she’s surprised. At least this time she winds up in one of the interrogation cells that has a little sunlight and some stale but fresher than below air. There’s even a proper toilet and a chair and a cot. She expects to be there for a few hours since Caitlyn is so incredibly busy these days. But Vi’s barely made herself comfortable on the cot when commotion starts. 

She’s hopeful for a moment that it’s a riot. 

But it’s just Caitlyn. 

“You wanted to see me?” Caitlyn says and if Vi was wondering if she was still mad, she’s not anymore. 

When she first met Caitlyn in her blue uniform, Vi tagged her for a low level Enforcer. Sure the gun she was carrying spoke of wealth, but it wasn’t Enforcer wealth. That was family money. And even then given her willingness to break the law and run around the Undercity, Vi figured it couldn’t be that much. Not until she went to her house anyway. 

They’ve come a far cry from that. 

Caitlyn wears her wealth and influence now like she wears the cloak. She’s tall in a way that has nothing to do with her actual height. Her mouth is in a tight disapproving line and her blue eyes glare down at Vi. But it’s the cape that really sells it. It folds around her form like a barrier cutting her off from the rest of the world. She’s sure as shit the only Enforcer Vi sees wearing a cape. Even her hair is down which only serves to further make her look different. 

“You look like a statue I’d spit on,” Vi remarks. 

“What do you want?” Caitlyn repeats, her voice tighter this time. 

Yeah she’s really pissed. 

“Stop following me.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t do that,” Caitlyn says, “you’re a prime target.”

“I can take care of myself,” Vi retorts. Caitlyn just stares her down, “I’m going to lose my home.”

“Then you can come back to Piltover.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Vi shoots back. 

“As you wish,” Caitlyn says and turns on her heel. 

She’s dead serious, Vi realizes. Of course she is, Caitlyn always gets what she wants. And she gets pissed off when she doesn’t. Vi is learning that really quickly. 

“Wait!” She grinds out. Caitlyn stops, “how long are you going to punish me?” Vi demands, “I told you I was trying to save my dad.”

“With your sister!” Caitlyn spits, turning so fast the cape billows, “you forgot to mention that part.”

“Sorry I didn’t have time to go over every little detail with your goons about to invade!” 

“That is not a little detail!” Caitlyn counters. Vi knows she’s right. Caitlyn balls her fist, takes a breath and looks at her, “now you’re a target. The Noxians know how to navigate the Undercity. You cannot be left unguarded.” 

“So you just want me guarded but you don’t want to see me?” Vi demands.

“Exactly.” 

“Who the fuck put you in charge?” Vi demands. Caitlyn stiffens, “oh wait--“

“I suggest you do not finish that sentence,” Caitlyn says. 

“I suggest you stop putting guards around me. I’d rather take my chances with Ambessa. At least she looked me in the eye when she tried to gut me.” 

Caitlyn is suddenly too close and there’s a blue that Vi forgot.

She can never pin down the blue of Caitlyn’s eyes. It shifts from midnight to teal to cyan. Sometimes Vi thinks they are blue-grey, shades darker than her own. But they are always impossible to look away from. Sometimes its annoying. Right now it’s downright infuriating. But Vi’s already damned so she’s definitely not backing down from this one. Caitlyn stares at her long and hard, her eyes bearing down. Then she presses her lips tightly again and straightens up. 

“Guards or Piltover, your choice.”

“Neither!”

“Guards it is,” she says. 

“You and that stupid cape can’t ignore me forever!” Vi shouts after her.

But Caitlyn’s the General wrapped in the night sky, and as much as it pains her to admit it, Vi knows she probably can. 

&&&&

The guards start turning up drunk. 

They always stagger back, bottle in hand and eyes clouded with merriment. They sleep it off and wake with apologies and explanations. Neither interest Caitlyn. She knows this is Vi sending a message, even if they say sometimes it was a red head and sometimes her hair was black. Sometimes it’s blue. Those times infuriate Caitlyn the most. She’s knows Vi has been locked up for longer than she’s been free. She knows this is excessively reckless but also understandable. 

She also doesn’t care. 

At best Vi is going to get herself killed. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think about what the worst case scenario looks like. It’s so easy to picture Vi in that green tank. Caitlyn grinds her teeth. She will not let that happen. She’s a Kiramman for Gods sakes. Vi seems to be the only one who keeps her from getting her way. She’s not going to let Ambessa also have that distinction. 

“General? They’re back.”

“They?”

This time Vi and her guard come in arm in arm. Because this time Caitlyn sent Loris. Vi’s taken care to send her guards back very drunk but also safe. But she never goes inside. Loris though keeps his arm around her shoulders like they are old friends. Caitlyn straightens up as they come fully into the garrison. Vi glances around but Loris keeps a fist of her jacket as he steers them in. 

“Well look who it is, General sneers a lot and her stupid cape,” Vi slurs.

“Bring her—“

Loris heaves Vi forward and Caitlyn has no choice but to catch her. It’s almost automatic to sling one of Vi’s arms over her shoulder. Vi grips her ‘stupid’ cape and looks up at her, blowing a piece of red hair up in a way that would be almost difficult to ignore. If her breath didn’t smell like something that makes Caitlyn’s eyes water. She’s very, very drunk. 

“I gotta go back.”

“That is not an option tonight,” Caitlyn says. 

“You kidnapping me? Again?” Vi frowns, “lawbreaker.” 

Caitlyn ignores her and steers them up the steps and through the private entrance she rarely uses. Caitlyn’s a fool in many ways, but she’s not enough of a fool to trust all the Enforcers. There are definitely moles. Which is one of the reasons she implemented the protocols. If Vi comes up here she’s supposed to be in cuffs. The guards that watch her are ones Caitlyn actually trusts. And despite all of that Vi manages to saunter in without a second thought. 

“This is nice, this yours?” Vi says looking around the office. Some schematic draws her eye and she sets off, “what’s—“

“Would you sit down?” Caitlyn snaps, batting her hand away before she can pull the string pinned there. 

“Who are you tracking?” She asks and glances up at Jinx’s headshot. She snorts, “still?”

“Yes—“ there’s a sound of ripping, “Vi!” 

Vi fixes her with that hard grey stare and rips again. There are moments when longing for her overtakes Caitlyn’s senses. And then there are these moments when she never wants to lay eyes on her again. She has half a mind to throw Vi out and make her stagger back to the Undercity. But from the way Vi is looking at her, that’s what she wants. And Caitlyn would rather hang herself with her cape than give her that as she shreds months of work. 

“I’ll see myself out.”

“You will not!” Caitlyn storms over, “sit down.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?”

“Easily.” 

Caitlyn’s never been much of a brawler but Ambessa’s changed that. Vi gives her a hard, silent look. Then she drops the pages into the fire and walks over to the couch. Caitlyn watches the pages burn. The search for Jinx has been half hearted at best these past few months. There are other things to be concerned with. Ambessa, Jayce, the golden light Mel seems to conjure whenever she’s angry. Even though every flash of blue hair makes her want to redirect people, at the moment Jinx isn’t the priority for anyone else. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“Wouldn’t tell you if I did,” Vi says, her tone cutting deeper than Caitlyn wishes it did.

“After everything, you’re just going to walk away?” Caitlyn turns, “how?” 

It still hurts that Vi can just walk away. 

Caitlyn’s been here before. Torn between never letting Vi out of her sight and never setting eyes on her again. She’s not proud of how desperately she listened to the wind those first few nights. Just waiting for Vi to climb up her balcony and tell her off. Tell her she misunderstood something. Make it all make sense in that terrible, infuriating, brilliant way of hers. But Vi never came. One day Ambessa locked the window, posted a guard and that was the end of it. 

“You look like her,” Vi says. 

Caitlyn feels like she’s been slapped. 

“Sometimes she’s still that kid, too smart for her own good,” she throws an arm over her eyes, “still standing in that room with those things in her hand—.”

The comparison stings, the way only a truthful one can. Again. How many ways has she played it over in her head. All she had to do was pull the trigger. She had the shot. So many shots, the weight of that magazine was impossible. She could have emptied every one into Jinx’s chest. Jinx was evil back then, she deserved it back then. If she had taken the shot her mother would be alive. Piltover, the Undercity, they would all be different. Instead she hesitates and Jinx knocks her out and the next thing she knows her mother is dying a city away. 

“And yet you walk away,” she says.

“Leaders don’t get to be selfish,” she says.

Vi is drunkenly sprawled out on her couch, she doesn’t look like she’s leading much of anything. Caitlyn doubts those are her words. 

“You don’t know the first thing about leadership,” she says.

“No, but my dad did,” Vi says. 

Of course it would be her father’s words. The father Caitlyn led Ambessa right to. No-one knew they were down there, they had been manipulated into a trap. Or she had. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think too hard on it. If she does, she starts to consider that maybe Jinx didn’t know her mother was a Counselor. Didn’t know who she was aiming that rocket towards. And that makes it very hard to swallow anything, even her own spit. Behind her she hears Vi stretch out on the leather, perhaps she’s too drunk to reason this either. 

She pulls out a throw blanket she keeps for nights in the office and drags it over Vi. One of Vi’s hands catches her fingers. 

“Leave,” she says. Caitlyn frowns, “wherever you are, leave,” she drops he hand, “I hate it when you look like her.” 

&&&&

When Vi opens her eyes she realizes it wasn’t a dream. 

She’s in Caitlyn’s fancy office. She very clearly tore down some map she worked hard on. And she’s under a very fancy blanket that might be the warmest, softest thing she’s ever felt. Her mouth feels like sandpaper though and her head is definitely trying to crack open with every pulse of her heart. She shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes. Loris is the best and the worst drinking buddy a girl could ask for. 

“You’re awake,” Caitlyn says, stepping fully into the room carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and a plate of sandwiches.

“Yeah,” Vi says, pushing herself up.

Caitlyn presses her lips together and sets the tray down. She’s wearing her usual Enforcer gear, her hair is tucked into its usual bun. She’s still imposing but she doesn’t look comical anymore. It makes it easier and harder to sit next to her and take the mug she hands her. 

“It’s tea,” Caitlyn says, “I haven’t poisoned it.”

“I didn’t think you had,” Vi says quickly, “did I—“ she motions to the wall. Caitlyn glares, “sorry.”

“Was that your intention in coming here?” She asks. 

“Huh? No!” Vi is surprised that it kind of hurts to have Caitlyn look at her with such mistrust, “I wasn’t ‘intending’ to come here at all.” 

“Right,” Caitlyn says shortly pushes herself up, “you need to stop getting your guards drunk.”

“You need to stop sending them,” Vi retorts. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Caitlyn tells her, busying herself with some of the endless papers strewn about, “not until we defeat the threat.”

“Powder isn’t a threat,” she says automatically. Caitlyns’ eyes narrow. 

“I was talking about Ambessa,” she says, “Jinx isn’t a threat to you, she is a threat to Piltover.”

The name makes Vi think of that stupid party with those stupid chairs. When she told her she could have Powder back. When she chose to be Jinx after Caitlyn didn’t shoot her. She hates the thoughts of that room. But she refuses to linger in them. 

“She goes by Powder now.”

“Maybe to you!” Caitlyn says and the indignant anger is back, “to the rest of us she’s Jinx.”

“And what are you to them?” Vi demands before she can stop herself. Caitlyn stiffens and sucks in a breath. But if Vi’s going to stick her foot in her mouth, she’s going to get it all the way up there, “the people you swore to protect are afraid of you.”

“I know that!” Caitlyn argues, wrapping her arms around herself, “I hate it—“

“So change it!” 

“I don’t know how!”

Vi glares at her and walks over to the wardrobe, yanking it open and ripping down that stupid fucking cloak. Caitlyn watches her as she strides over to her and shoves the cloak in her face. 

“Start by burning this stupid thing and try being a fucking human being again!” she spits.

Caitlyn looks outraged but Vi doesn’t care. There’s so much shit going on but Caitlyn’s still hunting Powder. Still enacting martial law. Still traipsing around cloaked in Ambessa’s authority and her mother’s money. 

“I am,” Caitlyn says and Vi can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Why am I wasting my breath? Of course you are,” she says, “General.” 

Caitlyn stares furiously at her in silence for a moment. 

“You don’t know me,” Caitlyn says. 

“And whose fault is that?” Vi throws up her hands,” you know what? Do what you want, I’m out.” 

She leaves before Caitlyn can say anything.

&&&&

 Martial law lifts the next day.

It’s three days before Vi wakes from her bender to find Loris back.

She lets him stay.

&&&&

She’s thumbing through her notecards for the morning speech, trying to find the right words.

“You’re sounding almost human again, Cupcake.”

Her fingertips tighten on the cards but she doesn’t dare turn around. It’s been a month since she saw her last. Vi eases herself into the room and approaches. Caitlyn finally lets herself appraise her. She’s wary but she’s here. The anger has a cautious edge. Her hair is long enough now to touch her shoulders on the side she grows out. The other side has been freshly shaved. She smells less like a bottle and more like a person. 

“That almost sounds like a compliment.”

Vi shrugs and walks over to the wall. Caitlyn feels the start of her own panic and shoves it aside. She doesn’t want Vi to see, she wants her stay. But she’ll see eventually and Caitlyn knows she’ll be more upset about the betrayal than the new map trying to track her sister. She lets out a deep breath. Caitlyn looks down at her notes. If they start to fight she’ll never have time to properly prepare. 

“What are you going to do with her?” 

The genuineness of the question makes Caitlyn pause. She would love to see Jinx dead. She deserves to see it properly. Finally. She’s seen Jinx almost dead. Seen her sprawled out completely still. And every time she does she sees Vi curled over her. She feels Vi shove her away to grab Jinx. The part of her that screams for blood is not one that cares about justice. That part of her screams in a child’s voice that she is a Kiramman. What she wants is the only thing that matters. She wishes it wasn’t so loud. She wishes she didn’t give in every time she sees the order to shoot her on sight.  

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says, “why?”

Vi leans forward and presses her forehead to the wall. 

“She’s getting bad again.” 

Caitlyn tries not to think about the room, the rocket, her mother. She forces herself to be grounded in the present. Vi still has her forehead against the wall. One of her hands curls into a fist. There are so many scars on her hands. She presses her knuckles into the wall. Caitlyn expects her to put her fist through it. Something sets in Vi’s shoulders and she turns around. Caitlyn’s aware of a paper fluttering to the ground but she just focuses on Vi’s clear eyes. 

“I want the same protections on her,” she says, “taken alive, that nice cell, only I get to see her.”

“You’e giving her up?” Caitlyn can barely hear her. 

“I don’t know where she is,” Vi says, “she keeps appearing and doing stupid shit. She won’t let me near her,” her fists ball by her sides, “she keeps trying to get shot. Your guys, suck by the way, but she’s not thinking.”

Caitlyn swallows against the tightness in her throat. Vi is asking her to protect Jinx. It’s a barbed compromise, one she never expected to be offered. Self loathing radiates off Vi. She’s desperate. Like she was back in that cell when she saw the drawing. Just like that she struggles for a mask of indifference. But it’s a poor one now. Caitlyn can see right through it. She commands Caitlyn’s attention and stares her down. 

“If you do it I’ll stay here with you.” 

The nausea steals her breath away. Something lights in Vi’s eyes and she steps forward. She’s offering what Caitlyn wants and all Caitlyn can think is if she vomits on her desk there’s going to be so much paperwork to redo. She clings to that thought as Vi takes another step forward. 

“I’ll say here and I’ll be an Enforcer again.”

“Stop!” Caitlyn tastes bile. Vi’s eyes widen and Caitlyn knows she’s thinking this is about Jinx. Maybe it is, maybe some part of it is. But all Caitlyn can think is that Vi would do anything she asked in that moment. And Vi believes it would work, “Just—“ Caitlyn scrambles for the order, for her seal. She can barely see as she scrawls out what Vi wants and seals it, “get out,” she says. 

“Huh?” Vi’s features twist.

“This is the order for her protection. Give it to the commander and just—“ her stomach rolls, “just get out.”

Vi’s lip curls but she takes the order. Caitlyn counts her breath until she hears the door close. Then she flies over to the bathroom and looses whatever she’s eaten that day. 

&&&&

Turns out, not everything’s blue. 

That’s all Vi thinks as she holds back Caitlyn’s hair while she vomits. She was fine five minutes ago and then she went pale and now she’s tossing her cookies. Vi keeps her hair back as she finishes, her shoulders shaking. She stiffens when she seems to realize she’s not alone. 

“Get it all out, Cupcake,” Vi says, trying for levity. 

“You thought I would take you for her,” Caitlyn says, finally looking up at her, “after everything—“

“Hey—“

“Do you really think so little of me?” 

Caitlyn appraises her as sharply as anyone can in that position and Vi doesn’t know what to say. Caitlyn interprets her silence as the complete answer, not the conflict. She moves away, straightening up and tugging her jacket back to perfection. Vi gets up but it’s not like it makes a ton of difference. Caitlyn rinses her mouth and pulls back her hair. She meets Vi’s eyes in the mirror, looking more collected than anyone whose been vomiting has a right to. 

“I don’t want you here,” she lies, her eyes narrowing at Vi’s scoff, “you don’t trust me to honor the order.”

“It’s not that simple,” Vi argues, unable to look away from Caitlyn’s gaze as her eyes harden, “Cait we gassed the Undercity. You were shipping people in trains off to Stillwater—“ she can see Caitlyn throwing up every wall until her eyes are flat, “yeah,” the truth tastes barbed, “you’re right, I don’t trust you to honor this.”

Caitlyn breaks their eye contact and leaves the bathroom without a word. So much blue covers her world, all of it is unyielding. Jinx think’s she’s fine and won’t let Vi within ten feet of her. Won’t let her touch her for anything. Caitlyn will watch her from someone else’s eyes and agree to shit she doesn’t want to, but she won’t let Vi be around. Vi knows the world kept spinning when she went away but she doesn’t get how she’s supposed to be around all these people who want her safe but don’t want her around. 

She forces herself out as Caitlyn sets down her pen and picks up her seal. She holds out the paper, though Vi is pretty sure she knows what it is. 

“Thanks,” she says, the words leaden in her mouth.

“I’ve kept my orders regarding you,” Caitlyn points out. 

Vi’s used to being short but she feels about ten inches tall. 

“Yeah,” she says finally. Caitlyn keeps staring her down. Like she’s waiting for something. Vi hopes it’s not an apology, she isn’t getting one, “still want me to—“

“Yes. Go.” 

&&&&

Caitlyn wears the cloak during her next speech. 

Vi is sober when she helps Loris back to the hideout.

&&&&

There is a lot of paperwork that comes with stripping someone of being an Enforcer. 

Caitlyn never got around to it. 

She couldn’t bring herself to put pen to paper and make things real. Then things got busy. It never seemed like it was ever going to be a problem, not considering how things occurred. At some point Maddie had filled out the forms and left them ‘just needs you seal’. She still didn’t. She just put them in the bottom of the pile and resolved to file them when she got around to it. 

It’s only when she comes back to Vi sitting in her office, rolling her badge across her knuckles, that she remembers where the papers even are. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says. 

“You know when I flashed this at the door, they just let me in,” Vi muses, “I was just going to take the win but then I scanned it,” her fingers close around the badge, “I’m still an Enforcer.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, there’s no point in lying about that, “I forgot to file the paperwork.”

Vi gives a purposeful look around her pristinely organized office. Caitlyn ignores it and walks over to the wardrobe, undoing the fastening and hanging up the cloak. Vi scoffs in the background. Caitlyn’s fingers tighten in the blue fabric. At the time she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Now she forgets why. It’s certainly not too late. 

“I will file it—“

“Remember when you said this doesn’t work if we don’t trust each other?” Vi says abruptly.

Back in the Undercity. Back with Vi bleeding out and throwing herself off of everything. Back when something made sense, even if Caitlyn was learning everything was a lie at the exact same time. But Vi was brilliant and brave and that made facing the impossible easier somehow. Now it’s just her and everything continues to be a lie, but there’s a coldness to it that makes her bones ache. 

“I think you were onto something,” she says. She walks over to the fire, pulls out the backup order and tosses it in. 

“I won’t rescind the order,” Caitlyn says. That should be the end of it. But Vi looks at her with her grey eyes and seems to cut through all her defenses, “but I don’t forgive her. I still want her to pay.” 

She expects Vi to explode but she just ducks her head and looks back at the fire. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you she was there,” Vi says, “I was just thinking about saving our dad.”

Caitlyn knows she has so much to apologize for. To so many people. Most of all to Vi. But she’s been trapped on the precipice while Vi just hurls herself off of it. Like it’s natural to apologize, dust yourself off and keep going. Caitlyn doesn’t know how Vi is so fearless. She always thought when she was able to see the real world, she would be as well. But she’s not. Her parents always showed her she could do anything, she deserved to do anything she wanted. Because she was a Kiramman. And yet it’s Vi whose brave and forgiving while she’s wondering how to be any of that. 

“I didn’t file the paperwork because I was hoping you would come back,” she says finally. 

“You can’t even look at me half the time,” Vi points out, something morose in her tone that guts Caitlyn. 

“It hurts,” Caitlyn admits finally, unable to complete the sentence. 

“Me too,” Vi says, her fingers curling against the mantle. 

She takes a deep breath and pushes herself away, moving towards the window. It’s hard for her to be there, it’s hard to watch her walk away. Caitlyn doesn’t know what possesses her to speak when they’ve only just managed to have something resembling a normal conversation. 

“I won’t wear the cape if you stay for morning drills.” 

Vi pauses and turns around. 

She doesn’t talk though so Caitlyn continues. 

“We fought well together.” 

“You mean when you saved my life and carried me off the battlefield?” Vi offers, but her hands are in her pockets and she steps forward. Away from the window, “Think you did most of the work there.”

“I usually do,” Caitlyn says. Vi scoffs, “it would be good to practice as—“

“A team?” Vi offers. Caitlyn nods. Vi considers her for a moment and then shrugs, “I could use a workout.”

Something in Caitlyn’s chest starts to flutter, even as she desperately tries to tamp it down. Vi walks over to the door. 

“Oh Loris is hungover, so go easy on him.” 

&&&&

General Kiramman and Enforcer Kiramman are blue. 

Caitlyn is red. 

Red like her sparring wraps, red like fire, red like a blush. Red like a memory. Red like blood. Red like the angry line that bisects her face from Ambessa’s blade. Vi finds her in front of the mirror, staring at her remaining eye. 

“I deserve this,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. 

“I’ve got those scars too,” Vi offers.

Caitlyn meets her eyes in the mirror, gasps and nearly topples over. Vi’s had her eye swollen shut enough to appreciate the loss of depth perception. Though she knows that’s not the only reason. She’s by her in a flash, steadying her quickly. Caitlyn tenses but doesn’t yank away. She just turns her head away. Caitlyn’s always looked pretty perfect, even running around the Undercity. Vi thinks the leg scar may have been her first one. This is a pretty spectacular second. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says quickly, “should you be out of bed?”

“I had to see,” Caitlyn says. Her eye scans across Vi’s face. Vi would look away but she doesn’t want to risk dropping her, “how long are your eyes going to glow?“

That makes her glance in the mirror. She doesn’t recognize the pink eyes that glow back at her. Not set in her own face anyway. The doctors said the glow should lessen as the drug works itself out of he system. Vi has no intention of becoming a shimmer addict. Even if the stuff saved her life. 

“A few days maybe,” she says, “docs say they might stay pink though. Is that—” Vi doesn’t know how to ask if that is something that’s going to rip them apart again. It’s not something she can change. 

Caitlyn motions vaguely at her missing eye. 

“I suppose both our eyes are different now,” she says, wincing when she tries to give a reassuring smile. 

“Let’s get you bandaged,” Vi tells her, “lean on me.” 

Caitlyn sits in front of her and lets Vi wind bandages over the cut. It will be a long road of healing but they are both alive. At the moment that’s the only fucking thing that matters. She tries to be gentle as she secures the bandage behind Caitlyn’s head. Caitlyn focuses on her with her remaining eye. The white threats through her hair but Vi can’t forget the red. 

“You’re pink,” Caitlyn muses. 

“Give it time, your scar will match,” Vi points out, “don’t try to smile,” she says when Caitlyn winces. There’s no shimmer Thank god, just those white tablets that take the edge off, “here.” 

Caitlyn takes them. Vi knows it’s darker in Cait’s canopy bed but it all seems the same as the shimmer heightens everything. She doesn’t know how any of this is going to play out. But some part of her and Caitlyn are painted with the same color for once. 

And somehow that’s all that matters.

[starrihan]

Little Black Dress (Beomgyu Fic)

-> Pairing: Beomgyu x afab! Reader

-> Plot: You don’t have a crush on Choi Beomgyu… so why are you getting ready to see him at a party?

-> Genre: smut, college student! Beomgyu x college student! Reader, dom! Beomgyu, sub! Reader, fingering, piv sex, doggy, no protection (wrap it up), both reader and beomgyu are drunk,

-> Ft. Belle from Kiss of Life and Soobin (he catches some strays, sorry)

-> Warnings: none

-> Word Count: 2,709

-> Notes: I just wanna thank you guys again for getting my leehan fic to 35 notes in 3 days like that’s actually crazy to me! I hope you enjoy this little fic! Also I did not proofread this but I wanted to get it out today please excuse any mistakes in spelling thank you!

-> Fun fact: Beomgyu is my ult bias and TXT is my ult group

༄ ༄ ༄

It was embarrassing enough that you wanted his attention. It was even more embarrassing the lengths you’d go to get that attention. When it boiled down to it, Choi Beomgyu was the root of all your problems. If it wasn’t for Choi Beomgyu, you would’ve won the 7th grade science fair. If it wasn’t for Choi Beomgyu, you would’ve been valedictorian of your high school. If it wasn’t for Choi Beomgyu, you wouldn’t be scrambling to get ready for this party right now.

It was the last party you would attend before finals week and you knew Beomgyu would be there. You curse yourself for letting it get to this point. Beomgyu was always better than you, always one step ahead of you.

You don’t know what you were trying to achieve by dressing up and looking hot at this party, but you didn’t care. You just wanted Beomgyu to think of you as anything other than a nerd who wasn’t even as smart as him. With your makeup done, you turn to find an outfit.

“Which dress do you think looks better?”

You turn to your roommate, Belle. Holding up a short, silky, dark blue dress in the left hand and a long sleeved, short, strappy black dress in the right.

“The blue one looks cute and comfortable. But if you want Beomgyu to fuck you, I say go with the black one.”

“I do not want Beomgyu to fuck me”

You said, rolling your eyes at her, but still going with the black dress anyways. You didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that you did, ever so slightly, have a crush on Beomgyu. You knew for a while, since high school, when he started dressing better and grew into his face more. It became lustful when you got to college as he grew taller than you had expected and he was very lean, his long black wolf cut and blonde highlights the subject of many sleepless nights for you. You shook your head at the thought and put on the black dress, while Belle took the blue one you didn’t choose to wear. After pregaming with 2 shots, you felt good enough to start walking over to the party. Being a lightweight, 2 shots was enough to have you feeling buzzed. You quickly grabbed your things, keys, purse, phone, and headed out.

༄ ༄ ༄

Upon arriving at the party, you see your friends Kai and Taehyun. You go over with Belle to greet them. When they notice you guys coming up to them, they pull you into hugs.

“Hey guys! Finally you’re here!” Kai says, laughing.

“I was ready, it was Y/N that took her time.”

“It’s the last party of the semester, forgive me for wanting to look nice.” you retort.

“Alright, alright, enough with this. Wanna grab a drink? Me and Kai just finished our cups”

Taehyun says, breaking up your little argument. You both nod and follow them to the kitchen that the drinks were in. After taking another shot, you decided to just chill with your little group for now, saying hello to some other friends here and there.

༄ ༄ ༄

A little while later, 5 shots in, you start feeling a little drunk, and decide to drag Belle and your friends to the little group of people dancing in the middle of the living room. It’s as you’re dancing with Belle that you catch a glimpse of Beomgyu, who was looking straight at you. A smirk finds its way onto his face, knowing he’s been caught looking at you, but he doesn’t look away. It’s then that you notice your cheeks feeling hot, though you don’t know if it’s from the alcohol or if it was because you were blushing under his gaze.

Beomgyu always had a little crush on you. Ever since elementary school where he first saw you. He was always too shy to say anything to you though, always opting to hang out with his friends rather than go up and talk to you. When he got that first grade back that was better than yours, he saw how you sulked and felt bad. He wanted to apologize but it seemed that you had gotten over it rather quickly, so he didn’t feel the need to do so. As the years went by, he could tell that the better he got, the more furious it made you. He liked the attention it brought to him from you, always telling him how you’d do better than him on the next test, even though you never did. He felt that, even though you hated him– or so he thought– that the negative attention it brought him was better than potentially getting rejected by you, so he opted for teasing you about his better grades instead, always making it a point to study harder than you to get those good grades. And the way you were shying away from his stare right now had his chest swelling with pride.

“I have to use the bathroom,”

He ripped his eyes away from you, glaring at his best friend, Soobin, for having the bladder of a hamster.

“You’ve only had 3 drinks dude.”

“I can’t help it! The bathroom door doesn’t lock, I need you to stand outside and make sure no one comes in while I pee!”

He groaned at the taller male, ultimately following him to the bathroom and waiting outside the door for him. Beomgyu was only slightly drunk, but he could feel the effects of the 4 drinks he had starting to kick in. A couple minutes later, Soobin came stumbling out of the bathroom.

“Damn dude are you alright?” Beomgyu asked, concerned for his best friend.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Do you need to go? I’ll wait for you out here.”

Beomgyu nodded, taking the opportunity to use the bathroom before Soobin got too drunk. The time this happened, he had to carry Soobin home on his shoulders while holding his pee in. He did not want to go through that again. As he was washing his hands, he didn’t expect you to come stumbling into the bathroom.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were in here, I’m sorry,” you said, your words slightly slurred, about to leave before his next comment made your ears perk up. He scoffed,

“Dumber than me and no common courtesy? I should’ve figured”

“Excuse me?”

You turned around on your heel, hoping he didn’t actually say what you had heard. Figuring that Soobin probably forgot that he was supposed to stand outside the door and decided to walk off, he looks up at you.

“Who walks into the bathroom without knocking? The door was closed.”

“Why didn’t you lock the door then?”

“Locks broken. I had Soobin waiting outside for me but I guess he left.”

“He probably couldn’t stand your insufferable ass anyways.”

He looks at you with an amused expression on his face. He walks closer to you, kicking the door close behind you in the process. He leans into your ear,

“I’m insufferable?”

He lets out a small chuckle, the close proximity of his mouth to your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“Y-yes. Yes, Choi Beomgyu, you’re insufferable.”

“God, I love it when you say my full name.”

All while he’s breathing into your ear. He smirks as your stutter, knowing that his stance is getting to you. You can’t help the arousal that’s pooling between your thighs right now, the way he’s talking into your ear has you rubbing them together slowly.

“Can you get out? I want to use the bathroom,”

You say, trying to move away from him. Unfortunately, the small bathroom didn’t provide much room for you to move, trapped between the door and the sink, and Beomgyu of course.

“Admit that you want me, and I’ll leave.”

This time, he moved his face away from your ear and looked at you face-to-face, his mere inches apart from yours.

“I’m not gonna admit something that isn’t true. Now move.”

You try your hardest to sound as commanding as possible, but to no avail. Your voice comes out broken, the effect of the alcohol in your system on display.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you rubbing your thighs together like you need me?”

You didn’t know what to say and instead avoided his gaze. He takes his hand and holds your jaw lightly, having you face him.

“Say you don’t want me right now and I’ll get out. I promise.”

But you don’t say anything. You don’t want to admit that you want him but the ache in your core is telling you otherwise. Your eyes are pleading with him, hoping that he won’t force you to say it and will just fuck you instead. He gets the memo, releasing your jaw from his hold, moving both his hands down to your waist to pull you in for a kiss. Your arms instantly wrap around his neck.

The kiss is hungry, your moans coming out immediately at the contact. He takes this opportunity to gently slide his tongue into your mouth. You slightly tug on his long hair, causing him to bite your lip as he pulls away.

“I like when you pull my hair.”

He says to you, attaching his lips to your neck. He’s a little harsh, biting down on you like a chew toy, but you love it, continuing to pull his hair. He moves his hands around your body, stopping at your ass and giving it a good squeeze.

“You look so sexy in this little black dress.”

“I’m glad you like it, I wore it for you.”

“Did you now? I knew you wanted me. ”

His tone is cocky, but you love it. You only moan as a response, wanting him to touch you where you needed it the most.

“Please touch me, Beomgyu. I need it.”

“Fuck, normally I’d have you beg more but I can’t wait.”

He hikes your dress up before slipping his fingers into your wet slit.

“And no panties either? I didn’t know you were such a slut.”

The comments came rolling off of his tongue, only making you want him more.

“Shut up,”

You basically mewled back at him as he was working his fingers along your slit. He unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His hard dick sprung out, finally free from its confines. You looked down at it. It was a lot bigger than you thought. He looked at your expression and laughed before inserting two fingers into your arousal. You let out a loud gasp as the intrusion, not expecting him to put them in right away.

“I know it’s big honey, you’re drooling. I’d have you on your knees for me, but I need to be in you now,”

He says. He thrusts his fingers in a few more times, making sure you’re prepped and ready for him. He makes you face the mirror, going in from behind.

“Watch yourself as I ruin you on my cock,”

He says before sliding in. He lets out a long sigh, waiting for you to adjust before moving.

“M-move,”

Is all you can say, knowing you’ll start slurring if you say anything more. The room is spinning, partly due to the alcohol, but mostly because of the way Beomgyu starts slamming his hips into you. He grips your waist tight, moving you back and forth to meet his thrusts. Eventually, you start rocking yourself back onto him, wanting more. The way he has you chasing his thrusts only makes his smirk grow wider.

“You’re so eager for my cock baby, keep fucking yourself onto me.”

You can’t respond as you start to move yourself on him faster. His hand snakes around your neck, pulling you into a sloppy kiss, taking over again as his other hand holds you in place, thrusting into you faster and deeper than before. You can’t keep the kiss going as your moans grow uncontrollable, your walls fluttering around his dick.

“I’m s-so clo-ose Beomgyu, please…”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you beg for my dick”

Your whining and begging has him speeding up, not knowing how much longer he can last with you around him.

“Do it, come for me Y/N.”

His words are all it takes before you’re coming hard all around him, dripping down onto his cock. He pulls out and pulls your dress up higher before finishing on your ass. He gives it a good slap, to which you yelp, before grabbing some toilet paper to clean you off. You’re both panting really hard, silently trying to catch your breath and stop the room from spinning as much.

“Wow, you came a lot! It even dripped onto the floor a bit!”

“That’s your cum, dumbass.”

“Oh”

You stand up, pulling your dress down before stretching, the way you were arching your back earlier making you feel stiff.

“Now will you admit that you wanted me?”

“No. But I can’t lie, you were really good.”

He pulls you into a hug, which confused you.

“If you couldn’t tell, I like you Y/N. And I know you like me too. But if you aren’t ready to admit your feelings for me yet, it's okay. I’ll wait. But you have number, let me know if you want to do this again when we’re not drunk.”

He gives you one last, slow kiss before letting go, walking out of the bathroom and leaving you to yourself. You smile, using the bathroom and fixing yourself before heading out. Feeling a lot more sober now, you approach your friends.

“Finally you’re back! You were gone for like 20 minutes. Is everything okay?”

Belle asks, shouting through the loud music. You just smile and nod, think about the events that just transpired. The party dies down after a bit, you and Belle agreeing that now is a good time to leave. As you leave, you catch Beomgyu’s eyes again, but this time he winks at you. Smiling back at him, you walk back to your dorm.

༄ ༄ ༄

“Okay so can you tell me what happened and why you took 20 minutes in the bathroom?”

You sigh. Of course she would ask the moment you got back in the dorm. You’re surprised she didn’t ask you on the way back.

“You were right. I did want Beomgyu to fuck me. And he did…”

“WHAT?!” WHY WOULDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE!”

You cover your ears dramatically, signaling her to quiet down as it was quiet hours at the dorms.

“First of all, stop shouting. Second, it was too loud at the party. Plus I like keeping you in suspense. But yeah he basically confessed that he likes me and he told me that he knew I liked him but said he’d wait for me to tell him myself.”

“Wow, I didn’t think he was so mature. But finally you admit that you like him. I was going crazy”

She says as she plops onto her bed.

“When you guys do eventually get together, please don’t fuck him while I’m here. I don’t wanna hear you moaning for him.”

“Fuck you”

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: Theo being an asshole, mentions of birth (just reader remembering Vi's birth), (let me know if I missed anything)

Wc: 5.1K

series masterlist

Chapter 8: Beach Day

“You’ve been sitting out there for days. Are you ever going to give up?”

Rafe stares at sheriff Shoupe as he settles down in the seat in front of his desk. “Not until you tell me why the case was dropped. Or how about the fact you switch it over to random deputies who can’t seem to do their fucking job.” Shoupe shakes his head and pushes his chair closer to the desk. Resting an arm on the desk, the other points at the younger man. “First of all that language and tone can leave if you want to talk. Second, it was dropped due to insufficient evidence.”

Rafe scoffs, crossing his arms as he glares at Shoupe. The walls of his office seem to get smaller as they just stare at each other. “Are we going to cut the bullshit or are you going to keep lying to me?” The sheriff looks out the window to watch the deputies as they pass by. One of them is the deputy that decided it was a good idea to let Delia go. “I don’t need to explain how I run this department to you. If they said there was no evidence then there wasn’t any.” Soupe gets up from his seat rounding the corner to sit on the desk. 

“Listen Rafe, you’ve come a long way from the kid I used to know. I’m glad you are passionate about that young girl and her kid. But you can’t just come in here demanding things.”  There’s a condescending look to him. Like there was no room to argue. Guess Shoupe forgot who he was talking to. “You're telling me you never took a bribe?” The older man sits up a bit more instead of leaning back. “Never looked the other way when someone paid you a high price? Because if I remember properly you were never above taking the cash prize.”

Shoupe has a dumbfounded look now, not expecting the conversation to turn to this. “Look, I wasn't in charge of the switch. I gave Hemmings all of that week's cases to assign, he’s the only one that could change it.” He could tell that Rafe wasn’t convinced. The way his head was tilted at him gave it away. “I’ll make you this deal. I can look into it, but I can’t promise you anything.” Rafe stands up looking at the linoleum tiles. “I hope that you do Sheriff.” He pats Shoupe’s shoulder as he moves closer to the door.

With one hand on the door knob he looks back at the older man. “Oh by the way, if you take too long my lawyer will be filing a case against the department. You’ll have to spend a lot of money trying to defend yourselves because I’ll make sure he drags it out as long as he can.” He leaves the office heading for the front entrance just to hear Shoupe curse to himself.

“Fucking Cameron’s.”

Rafe makes his way to his truck, glancing at the time when he gets in. It's about to hit nine so he knows that you are already up. You’ve decided to give yourself the weekends off and since Jo wanted extra money she’s been holding down shop. This means that you are most likely at home enjoying the morning. His tires screech on the gravel as he reaches your house. He jogs up to the door grabbing the keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. The inside was empty but your car was still in the drive-way. 

As his steps echo in the hallway he can hear giggles coming from your room. He opens the door to see Vi running around as you watch her from the bed. “Rafe!” The little girl screams when she sees him. Her little legs run over to him, giving him a hug and talking his ear off about nothing really. Rafe just laughs along, commenting on snip-its as he throws himself on the bed. “Good morning pretty flower girl.” You giggle as you lean over to give him a kiss. “Good morning handsome space boy.” As the two of you have your little moment, Vi wiggles free from his arms.

“Bird-day”

“What is she talking about?” Rafe asks as he looks at the little girl jumping on the bed.You giggle shoving your face into the pillows. “Jo and June keep talking about her birthday. She’s just excited about it.” Rafe catches her as she jumps at him and squeezes her between the two of you. “Thought that was next month.” He questions as he tickles her. Uncovering your face you peck her cheeks making her laugh more. “It is, but they were excited about it. She’s the baby of the family so it's a big deal.”

“Course it is. Our baby girl is turning three.” You don’t think he understands how much it means to you when he says things like that. Seeing him love Vi the way you do is heartwarming. You never thought you would have this, someone who cares for her and you. Everyone always says when you are a single mom no one will want to play dad. But here he was willing to do it without a complaint. A part of you even questions if your memories from the first two years of her life were a nightmare. As if this was your life the whole time with Rafe and Vi. Then you have the constant reminder when you see Theo.

Life has been messy since the case against Delia was dropped. Theo has made it his mission to have her there at every visitation. The judge tried to keep the arrangement the same but with the police dropping everything there was nothing he could do. Judge Argent seemed to feel bad for you extending an apology for the ruling. The days that followed felt like torture. You kept blaming yourself for it all, believing if you did more maybe this wouldn’t have happened. 

Your phone alarm goes off letting you know that it's time to get ready. Since Jo is taking up shifts at the shop you now have to bring Vi to visitations. Rafe helps you get Vi ready and keeps her entertained as you do as well. Rafe started to go along with you as an extra form of back up since Delia now tags along. He drives you over to the beach where Theo wanted to meet. The weather is still warm so it’s probably the last chance she’ll get to play in the sand. The Moana soundtrack blasts through the speakers.

“Moana, make way make way.” Rafe screeches out as he reaches back to tickle Vi. You and her giggle at his antics. The whole summer Vi made you both watch it a million times and play the soundtrack at any given time. It was her second favorite movie. You all sing along to the music jamming out as Rafe pulls into the parking lot. He just so happens to park a few spots down from Theo and Delia. The two of them watch as the three of you sing to the music. When they see you get out of the car, they make their way to meet you. 

“About time you showed up. You’re ten minutes late.” Theo critiques as he walks over, Delia follows along behind him. “There was traffic. We can just stay for another ten minutes to make up for it.” The service worker for your case is standing at the entrance watching you all interact. “You should know by now that you need to leave a little earlier. I’m sure they would love to know you are bringing her late. Wouldn’t look too good for you.” Theo keeps going on talking to air as you get Vi out of the car. She clings onto you as you face her towards the other couple. “Hi Violet. Daddy missed you.” He extends his arms waiting for the little girl to greet him but all she says is hi. 

Theo glares at you, ready to blame you for her reaction. “Is everyone ready?” Jane, the social worker for your case, walks up. Theo’s whole demeanor changes once he sees her. “Yes, just catching up on how the little one is doing.” He walks over grabbing Vi from your arms and placing her in his arms. He goes to walk towards the beach but Vi turns to look at you over his shoulder. Her eyes start to water and a wail rips through her throat. You are all still at the noise and instinctively you go over to take her back. “I could have handled it, she’s fine.” 

“She’s crying for a reason not because she thinks it’s fun. Probably thought we were the ones taking her to the beach.” Rafe tries to reason as he rubs Vi’s back. One of her chubby hands grabs at his shirt as her tear streaked face looks up at him. “Rafe.” She sniffles out. He puts the bag he had down and picks her up, letting her hide in his neck. “Well I’m here dad, there’s no reason she should be acting like this.” He catches his tone in the end, eying Jane who watches everything play out. “Prim I never took you as a parent alienation type. I just want to be there for my daughter.”

He’s trying to play the victim once again. Pulling out the old dad who was refused to be in his kids life act. Forcing yourself from not rolling your eyes, you pick up the bag and urge Rafe to walk. “Sorry if that’s how you feel but I never forced you out, you chose that. You can’t honestly expect her to warm up when she is just now getting to know you.” His nostrils flare as he takes a hold of Delia’s hand. “We should just go get set up.” Delia suggests and you all agree. Jane walks behind all of you while Theo and Delia are in the front. “Bet she warmed up to Rafe quickly.” Theo mumbles to Delia.

You and Rafe share a look not believing he’s really going on about this. “Just drop it. At least she’s loved.” Theo whips his head towards her and pulls her closer. “I don’t need him caring about her. He’s not her dad, I am. Don’t defend him again, got it?” Delia just nods her head and keeps walking. You stare at the back of her head as you follow them to a part of the sand they want to set up. You wonder if she’s experiencing what you did when you were with him. He’s still the same manipulative person he was before. Maybe he’s the same in all ways. 

“You could make this easier on everyone.” Lost in thought you didn’t realize Delia had come up to you. “I’m sorry?” She just sighs and points back. “Sure you didn’t tell him, that was a choice but what could we do. But now you’re making up lies just to keep him away. Think about Violet.” Okay so maybe she doesn’t really know who Theo is. You look at Rafe who’s playing in the Sand with Vi. He has a big smile on his face hanging onto everything she says. If you think back to the visitation you’ve been to you can’t recall Theo looking like that.

“I am. You know a fairytale version of Theo but I know the real him. That’s not something I want around my daughter.” Not wanting to argue with her, you walk over to Rafe and Vi. “Hey pretty girl.” You smile at him and lean over to give him a kiss. Crouching down you pick up a shell that was buried in the sand. Vi grabs it and adds it to the little bucket Rafe is holding. “Come on sweetie. Someone is waiting for you.” This time Vi went over to Theo without crying which was a big win. As much as you would like for him to leave, you want visitations to go smoothly so the court knows you are trying. You want him to lose this case because they saw through him not by playing dirty.

As Jane stays with them, you and Rafe set up a sheet a few feet away so you are close but far enough to not be distracting. “Gotta surprise for you.” Rafe grins as he backs away from your set up. “Yeah? What would that be star boy?” Shrugging Rafe holds up a finger towards you. “Wait here I’ll be right back.” He runs off to what you think is the car. While he’s gone you go through the bag and take out the sunscreen to apply some to yourself. Realizing you forgot to remind Theo about it, you pull out your phone to tell him when to reapply it. Looking over to where they are, you see him pick up his phone before throwing it down after reading your text. Guess he just won't answer you.

You grab one of the books you brought with you and read a page when Rafe comes back. When you look to the right as he gets closer you can see a basket in his hand. “What’s that?” You point your head to the wooden basket he places in front of you. He kneels on the sheet, crawling over to you before kissing your lips. “Just thought I could treat my girl to something nice. Got your favorites.” Your cheeks redden at ‘my girl’ still getting used to the praise. The waves crash against the shore as he shows you the snacks that he bought for you. You two snack on the chocolates and fruits that he packed. 

“So where were you this morning? I woke up and you were gone.” He plops a strawberry in his mouth, licking off the juices from his fingers as he looks at you. “Had a meeting that I couldn’t miss. Been getting the run around and had enough.” Nonchalantly he pulls you into his chest grabbing the book next to you. The front of the book reads Little Women. “What’s this about?” He reads the back as you explain the story to him. Opening up the book he finds your bookmarked page. His other arm grabs the blanket he stuffed in the bag. The weather is not too cold but the breeze does make you cold from being near the water. 

“What are you doing?” You laugh out as he wraps the two of you. “Reading to you, now shush.” Just like he said Rafe starts reading where you left off. The sound of his voice is soothing, making you feel more relaxed than you have in a while. Everything has been so stressful that it feels nice being normal for a while. You look over to where you see Theo trying to play with Vi who doesn’t seem too interested. Sighing you turn a bit away from them, focusing back on the book. More time passes and eventually Rafe puts the book back down. 

“Rafe!” There’s a shriek of Vi’s voice. The two of you check to male sure she’s okay to see that she’s running towards you. As she reaches the edge of the sheet she jumps on it and holds out her hands. They are cupped together displaying an array of different shells. “Look shelds.” You sit up giving her room to come closer. “Shells baby. Let me see.” She giggles repeating the word, continuing to show Rafe what she collected. “Come on Violet, give them space.” Theo runs up taking a hold of her arm to have her stand up. Rafe rips his hand off of Vi, hugging her as she curls into Rafe. “Don’t ever touch her like that, get it.” Theo’s eyes narrow and he calls Vi again. When she doesn’t budge he looks back to where Delia and Jane are standing. Theo looks at his watch and smirks.

“I still have thirty minutes left of my visitation. Wonder how much Jane would love to know you are cutting it short. Or how he just threatened me.” Removing the blanket from you, you stand and grab Vi’s hand. “I’m not doing this with you today. Stop trying to play victim when we both know what truly happened. Let's just finish this half hour so we can go on with our day.” You help guide Vi back to where Theo had set up, smiling at Jane as you passed her. When you reached Theo you paused. “No matter how much you try you’ll never be her dad. You’ll always be the guy who abandoned us, never forget that.” 

The rest of the time went by fast. By the car Rafe puts everything away as you wait for them to come. They make their way out of the entrance, Theo holding Vi’s hand as she bats away Delia’s hand. You want to laugh at her disdain of the woman but you hold it in. The arm that Theo holds wiggles but never slips free from his hold. Vi sees you standing in front of the car and tries to run up to you only to fall backwards. A cry escapes her lips, tears streaming down her face. You rush over with Rafe a few steps behind you. “Is she okay?” You hear Delia ask as Theo kneels in front of her. Bi kicks and swats her hands trying to push him away. “Baby are you okay?”

At the sound of your voice Vi’s tears die down as she reaches for you. You push Theo away from her and pick her up. Inspecting her head and face you move to her arms and legs. “You okay sweet girl?” She shakes her head no and leans onto him wrapping her arms around his neck. Rafe takes her from your arms and rubs her back as her tears silently fall. “She could have been hurt from how hard you were holding her. What’s wrong with you?” Rafe can’t stop himself before the words fall out of his mouth. “So you would rather her get mulled over by a car? I was making sure she was safe.” Theo takes a step closer but you step in between them. “Next time just be gentler. She’s still young so that could have really hurt her arm.” 

Rafe clocks that you are angry and would love more than anything to tear him a new one. But he knows that you can’t due to Jane and he hates he let himself verbally lash at him. “Look man, I'm sorry. Never seen her cry like that can it really freaked me out.” Rafe dips his chin to look at the little girl in his arms and adjusts her to hold her closer. Theo scoffs and wraps an arm around Delia. “We’ll see you next weekend.” They walk away and Jane comes up to the three of you.

“Is she okay?” You look at your daughter and back at the older lady. “Yeah I think so. Probably bruised her butt in the fall but I’ll do a double check when we get home.” Jane nods and then stills. Following her eyeline you follow in her footsteps. On Vi’s right arm was a red splotch with an outline of a hand. Your hand reaches out to brush your fingers against it causing her to wince. Rafe gently holds her tiny hand to get a better look and his face contorted with anger. “I need to take a picture of this and report it. You should go get her checked out and then send me the files. Let me know how she does.” 

So much for having a nice relaxing day. You are now sitting in an emergency room waiting for the doctors to finish their checkup. The mark has gone down a lot from what it was but it’s still faintly there. The striped curtain brings back flashbacks to when you were about to give birth to Vi.

“Just breathe, I'm sure they’ll come here soon.” Lillian, Jo’s mom, tries to calm you. You had woken up in the middle of the night in extreme pain. When you went to move from the bed you saw a few spots of blood. Everyone in the house woke up to your screams rushing in to see you crying and holding your stomach. Benji, Jo’s dad, had driven you all to the ER. You couldn’t stop crying imagining the worst. The baby wasn’t due for another three weeks and this is concerning.

The ER was packed and they stuck you in a space promising for a doctor to come see you but that was almost two hours ago. The curtain strips make you feel like you are losing your mind. You’re in excruciation pain and they won’t even help you. All you can think about is what if there’s something wrong with the baby. You didn’t spot it in the early stages of your pregnancy so why would you start now? That just means that there is something wrong. 

The curtain is drawn to the side as Jo walks in pointing to you as she faces a doctor. “She’s fucking pregnant and you have her sitting her in pain. What the hell is wrong with all of you?” Jo’s voice bounces off the walls of the ER. You can see some people looking at the scene shaking their heads in disgust. “Listen, we have a packed emergency room. We are trying our best.” Benji stands up and joins his daughter now. “Listen, my kid is in pain. She woke up and had bloody sheets. Now I may not be a doctor but I sure as hell know that she shouldn’t be bleeding like that so late into her pregnancy.”

All the commotion caused people that were waiting to pay attention. “Once again sir we have other patients to look at as well. We are overwhelmed today.” The doctor goes to walk away when someone who was waiting got in his way. “Are you really going to let a pregnant lady suffer like that?” The doctor stumbles over some words trying to argue his case. “Something could be wrong with the baby and you aren’t even going to help. What is wrong with you?”

Other people joined in, arguing with the doctor until he finally gave in. He went and got another doctor to check in on you since he had to go check on another patient. This time it only took two minutes before a female doctor came in. “Hi, I'm Doctor Foster. I heard we came in due to some pain and bleeding.” You nod and tell her how you woke up to sharp pain along with the bloody sheets. She hums, writing down what you told her and asks if she can check your uterus. After agreeing she has you lay down more as she puts on gloves. 

As she is checking you hold onto Jo’s hand as she brushes some hair from your forehead. “Well I think I know what the blood and pain was from. You’re water broke in your sleep and the blood was from bloody show.” She takes her gloves off and explains how she’s going to send someone down to bring you to the maternity ward.

“Is the bleeding something we should be worried about?” Lillian asks. She never experienced it and doesn’t know if it is bad or good. Jo was an easy birth so this is new to her. “It’s normal. As the cervix dilates the blood vessels can rupture. We’ll keep an eye on it to make sure it’s nothing serious but everything looks good.” She explains the process from her on out a bit more before the nurses show up to bring you to the ward. “You’re about three centimeters dilated so you still have some time to go. But good luck mom, you are going to do great.” 

She wasn’t wrong when she said you would be there for a while. The sun slowly creeps back into the sky as you deal with contractions. Hours kept ticking by until finally your delivery doctor said you were fully dilated. It wasn’t before long that you heard the little cries and your daughter was placed on  your chest. 

“My little Violet.” You say as you caress her cheek. 

“Baby you okay?” You turn to look at Rafe who’s watching you with a worried look. His left hand raises and wipes away a stray tear that fell. “Sorry I was just thinking. Last time I was in the hospital with Vi was when she was born.” Rafe wraps an arm around you. Pulling you close to his side. Vi sits on the bed seeming to love the attention as the doctor makes her laugh. 

The three of you were there for another twenty minutes as they asked you what happened to get an understanding. The doctor said that Vi was fine but encouraged you to keep a closer eye on her interactions with Theo. “He’s lucky that he didn’t pop her shoulder out of its socket. The fact that she had a handprint mark is very worrying because there’s no reason for him to hold her that tightly.” 

When you had gotten home you went straight to your room so you could scan the paperwork and send it over to Jane. As you make your way down the hallway you can hear murmurs coming from the kitchen. June greeted you from the couch as she sat down with Vi watching Toy Story. “Heard this one had an eventful day.” You sigh already knowing where this night is going to go. “I just sent the documents to the case worker. We’ll see how it goes.”

The older lady nods her head, humming as she formulates the words she wants to say. “I know you are trying to be neutral so they can view that as good. But sweetie this man has not been playing fair the whole time and now this happened.” You avert your eyes to look at the floor. “Maybe what the judge and social worker want to see is you fighting him to get her.” You snap your head up. “That is what I’m doing.”

“I’ve known you practically your whole life. You’ve always been the peacekeeper. I think it’s time to show him you’re a fighter and he has no place in your life anymore.” Her tone is soft and caring which makes it even harder for you to be mad. You know that she’s right, you can't keep playing things safe. It feels like she’s picking at a sore wound and it hurts. “I’m going to get Vi’s dinner ready.” You walk over to give her a kiss before going to the kitchen.

At the entrance way you can see Rafe and Jo whispering to each other. Jo has her back faced to you as Rafe stands in front of her. His head is leaning down so you can’t really hear what he is saying. Another step forward and he was alerted to your presence. He glances up at you and straightens up. “Hey did you send everything over?” You nod your head, and go to get some pans when you realize Jo was already making dinner. 

“It’s about to be done, if you want to set up the table.” Trying to ignore the nagging in your head you set up the table. Throughout dinner you feel like you aren’t even there. No one is really saying anything sensing that your mood was off. They feel like if they utter a word that you might break. Usually you like to chat and hear about everyone’s day but there you were. Silent.

By the time you put Vi to bed you are already in your head. You change in your room as Rafe sits there waiting for you to say something. “Can I spend the night?” Throwing on your shirt you turn around. “Sure.” You go to the bathroom and get ready for bed as he changes. When you lay in bed Rafe finally had enough. “What’s wrong?” The book you like to read before bed is sitting in your lap untouched. 

“What were you and Jo talking about in the kitchen?” He sits up at the question not really meeting your eyes. “Nothing really. Just telling her what happened.” Placing the book down you turn to face him. “I already told her what happened when we got Vi checked out.” Watching him try to scramble something else up is surreal. “I think you should go home.” His head moves to look at you. “Come on, don't do this. It wasn’t anything important.” You shake your head pulling the sheets off of you to gather his clothes.

“The last time I had someone lie to me was Theo after I caught him cheating. I won’t have you lie to me.” He shoots up from the bed stopping you from picking up the rest of his things. “You think I’m cheating on you with Jo? We would never do that to you.” You shake your head. “No but I don’t appreciate you lying to me. I spent a whole relationship hearing lies and second guessing myself. I’m not going to do that for a second time.” He pulls you into a hug, holding tightly as you try to escape.

“She was talking me out of starting something with Theo. I was pissed and wanted to hurt him for what he did to Vi. Was just about ready to go beat him up and she told me I should think about the two of you.” You start crying, clinging to him. He doesn’t know what to say so he just holds you. Slowly he brings you back to the bed and tucks you in. “What’s going on?”

“I feel like I’m failing everyone. I couldn’t protect Vi today and everyone is talking behind my back.” You lean back and wipe your hands on your tear stained cheek. “Why is this happening to me? I thought I finally got away.” Rafe calms you down, rocking you from side to side as he lets you vent to him. Soon the tears subsided and the two of you were laying in bed. “You aren’t failing anyone. We just want this to all go away just as much as you do.” He moves down on the bed to be face level with you. 

“We love Vi so much and it hurts us what happened today. But we love you just as much. You’re doing a great job and I’m so proud of you.” He caresses your face and kisses you. “I got your back baby. You aren’t alone anymore.” Rafe stays up listening to your breathing. He looks at your sleeping face wishing he could take away all of your pain.

Just as he’s about to fall asleep he promises he will always protect you.

@haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers @ijustwanttoreadlols @drewsphswife @corpsebridenightamare @actorslover @juniperbaies @fionaswifeyy @dark1paradise @stoned-writer @notafairyteen @theoraekenslover let me know if you want to be added

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out of my league | pedri gonzalez [part iv]

🎓 synopsis: Lately, you and Pedri have been more honest about what you want from each other, going on actual dates. You realize you’re ready for something more, and even though you’re nervous, you invite him over. tags: nerd and jock trope, mutual pining, first time together, suggestive but nothing explicit. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 2.9k words)

you can read the first part here, or go to the masterlist.

part 1

You and Pedri start spending more time together, like actual time. You don’t even know when it happened, when things shifted. One second you’re just two people hanging out, and the next, you don’t hesitate to call it a “date” anymore. You make time for each other, even when your schedules barely align. 

But now, there’s this stirring inside you. You’ve been thinking about it a lot, maybe too much. You can’t stop imagining what it might be like to take the next step with him. The way he makes you feel, the way he treats you, the way he’s always there with that easy smile and kind eyes. It’s almost like you owe it to him, to show him how much you care, how much he’s made you happy in such a short time. You want to give him something back – something that says, I trust you, something that shows him just how much he means to you.

That’s when you decide.

You buy lingerie. You pick up a few pieces, holding each one up to your body in the mirror, but when it comes to choosing a color, it throws you. White? Red? Too cliché. Maybe purple? But then, that might be too… bold. You settle on black. It seems safer. Bold, but not too bold. Plus, you like the idea of him seeing you in it.

You make sure your roommate has plans to be out, giving you the perfect window of time. You know Pedri’s schedule; he’s always busy, but you think you’ve finally figured out a way to squeeze this in.

You don’t want to outright say anything, but you’re not sure how to get the message across without it sounding... weird. So you settle for just inviting him over, casually. The night before, you’re sitting in his car after a date, he’s dropping you off, and you decide to just say it.

“Hey, so, um, I was thinking...” you start, twisting your hands together, feeling more nervous than you expected.

He looks at you, brow furrowed slightly, trying to read your face. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You bite your lip, then take a breath. You should just say, “Come over tomorrow. I want to show you something.” Instead, you ramble, the words tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can even think about them.

“So, uh, tomorrow, like, I was thinking maybe you could, um, come over? But like, not for the usual... y’know, the... just to, uh, hang out? But also, like... maybe more?”

You see him blink, his face going from confused to more confused, and you almost want to slap yourself. Of course, it’s awkward. You’re practically doing backflips around saying anything direct. This is why you don’t do these things.

Pedri shifts in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. “Wait, uh... so, you want me to come over, but like, not just for... hanging out? More like, what exactly?”

You cringe at how he’s repeating your words. Why is this so hard?

“Yeah, well, I just... um... I got something,” you gesture vaguely, “and I want you to see it? But not in like a ‘come over for a surprise’ kinda way. More like a, uh, a ‘come see me’ kind of way?”

He looks at you for a long second, and then, it clicks. His eyes widen just a little, and you can see him swallow. You’ve never seen him this nervous. His lips part as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Oh...” he says, his voice low. “You mean... like, you want to... y’know...”

You nod, your cheeks burning. It’s definitely not the smoothest conversation you’ve had. “Yeah. I mean, I want to be with you.” You can’t even look him in the eye as you say it.

Pedri is silent for a beat, his hand frozen on the wheel. Then he slowly exhales, and finally, he nods. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll come over. Tomorrow. I... I think I got it.”

He sounds so unsure, but also, there’s something in the way he says it that makes you feel a little better about the whole thing. The awkwardness doesn’t feel so bad. Just... funny.

You smile, your heart doing this weird fluttering thing. “Thanks,” you murmur, and you both just sit there for a second, looking at each other, both of you grinning shyly like teenagers.

“Yeah. Tomorrow,” he repeats softly, “Can’t wait.”

part 2

You can barely focus as you sit in the library with the group, your textbook open in front of you, the words on the page blurring together. It’s hard to concentrate with the knot in your stomach, and you keep looking at the clock, wishing the hours would hurry up. You're doing your best to hide it, but it’s obvious, your foot bouncing under the table.

Alexia’s the first to notice, her sharp eyes scanning you as she looks between you and your notes. She leans in, nudging Ana, who has her head buried in a textbook, and both of them turn to look at you.

“Are you okay?” Ana asks, but her expression is full of concern.

You try to smile, but it feels like you’re forcing it. “Yeah, just... stressed,” you mutter, avoiding their gaze. “I don’t understand any of this stuff.”

You’re not lying, in a way. You don’t even know if it’s excitement or anxiety, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.

One of the boys, Arthur, looks up from his notes and notices the way you’re fidgeting. “You sure that’s all?”

“I’m fine,” you insist quickly.

“Don’t stress,” Arthur says, a reassuring smile on his face. “You’ll get it. By the end of this session, you’ll be an expert on this stuff.”

You smile back at him, but your mind is already elsewhere. Ana and Alexia, however, don’t let it go. As soon as the study session wraps up, they stay behind, catching you before you can slip out the door. 

“Okay, spill,” Alexia says with a sly smile. “We know something’s up.”

Your cheeks turn pink as you fidget with your notes, but it’s too hard to keep pretending everything is fine. “I don’t know,” you mumble, “It’s just... I feel like I’m the topic of every conversation lately. Everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay.”

Alexia leans back in her chair, arms crossed, “It’s because I grounded Ana for the rest of the week,” she says nonchalantly, “and now she can’t talk about her life anymore.”

Ana’s eyes widen, and she slaps Alexia lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, not cool!” she protests.

Alexia just laughs, clearly enjoying the fact she’s getting under Ana’s skin. “Sorry, but your last ‘adventure’ traumatized me for life, thank you very much.”

You can’t help but laugh at their banter. Ana crosses her arms over her chest, pretending to pout, and Alexia nudges you with her elbow, her tone softening. “So, really, what’s going on? We can tell something’s bothering you.”

You’ve been holding this in for hours, but you can’t hold it anymore. You swallow, trying not to let your heart pound too loudly in your chest. “Yeah...” you look down at your shoes, suddenly very aware of how everyone around you is moving. “I... um, I invited Pedri over tonight.”

Alexia’s eyes widen, and Ana immediately smirks, her eyebrows lifting. “Ooooh, really?” she teases, not hiding the excitement in her voice.

You bite your lip, not sure whether to be relieved or more embarrassed. “Yeah, well, and I... I kind of bought some lingerie.” You wince as the words come out of your mouth, almost like you’re speaking in a foreign language. “And, I don’t know... I’m freaking out because it’s like... a big step, right?”

Both of their eyes practically light up, and you immediately regret saying anything. Ana looks like she’s about to burst into laughter, while Alexia just gives you this knowing, almost proud, look.

“Wait, wait,” Ana says, her grin wide. “You invited him over? And you bought lingerie?” She clasps her hands dramatically. “I’m excited for you! Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, okay?”

You can feel your face go red as you squirm in your spot, “I – what does that even mean?!”, you protest.

Alexia shakes her head, her lips curling into a smile. “No, no. Don’t do anything she would do.” She raises an eyebrow, “Trust me, you don’t want to go down that road.”

Ana’s mouth falls open in mock offense. “Excuse me?!”

You look at them, wide-eyed and a little mortified, but also kind of relieved that they’re being this chill about it. You let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t even know what that means, either! I just...”

Alexia shrugs, her tone softening. “Hey, it’s fine. You’ll figure it out.”

You’re still blushing, but the whole thing feels way less scary now that you’ve said it out loud to your friends.

part 3

You try to make sure everything is perfect, lighting some candles and putting on nice music in the background. You don’t know why you’re so focused on little details like that, but it feels like it matters. 

You’ve spent hours getting ready. Your hands were shaking while you tried on the lingerie, the black fabric clinging to your skin. You almost couldn’t bring yourself to wear it, but then you remembered why you wanted this. You wanted to show him that you’re ready, that you want this. 

You’re standing by the door, checking yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing your hair and adjusting the straps on your shoulders. When you hear his knock, your heart skips, then you force yourself to take a deep breath before you open the door. There he is, looking just as good as you remember, standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” he says, and his voice is so sure, so steady, it makes your own greeting catch in your throat for a second.

“Hi,” you manage, a little softer, your voice nowhere near as confident as his. You step aside, letting him in.

When the door shuts behind him, he finally takes a good look at you – really looks. His eyes slide over your figure, you watch as his confidence wavers just slightly, his mouth parting in surprise. His eyes lifting back to yours, his cheeks just a little flushed, like he wasn’t expecting the sight of you in a silky robe, the black lingerie just peeking through. He blinks, and then the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“Wow... hi,” he says again, his tone different this time – lower, breathless, like he’s processing.

Seeing him so taken back gives you just the tiniest boost of confidence. You’re still standing there, a little unsure of yourself, but something in his reaction makes you feel bolder. You slip the robe off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. You let yourself breathe for the first time since he arrived.

His eyes widen, and he swallows, “You – wow,” he says again, but this time, it’s with a softer awe, like he’s trying to catch his breath.

You take a step closer, “You’ve been so patient with me,” you say, heart racing in your chest. “I... I wanted to give you a gift.”

The way he looks at you when you say that – you feel this rush of warmth in your cheeks, with him looking at you with so much adoration.

“I like being patient with you,” he says, his words so careful and deliberate. “Because you deserve it.”

His fingers gently curl around yours and it’s not just the words; it’s the way he says them, like he means every single one.

"Come here," he murmurs, his voice low and warm, as his hands find your waist and guide you closer. There’s a natural ease in the way he does it, like he’s done this before, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, but also, like he’s spent enough time with you to know exactly how to make you feel safe, wanted.

Your body presses against his, his hand slides up to the small of your back, holding you steady, while the other trails to your hair, fingers tangling gently but firmly, anchoring you.

And then he kisses you.

It’s not like your other kisses, sweet and tentative, this is something else entirely. This is passion, raw and consuming, like he’s been holding this back for far too long. His lips move against yours with a heat that goes down your spine, a rhythm that you try to instinctively match, even though you’re a little out of your depth.

You melt into him, your knees threatening to give out, but he’s there, holding you. His arm around your waist tightens, pulling you impossibly closer, while the hand in your hair tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. He takes control so effortlessly, steady, protective, and so perfectly him.

You hadn’t known kisses could feel like this. Like fire and sweetness. He pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you’re both breathless, your chest heaving as you try to steady yourself. His thumb brushes lightly against your hip, his eyes soft but still burning with the same intensity from moments before.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his voice husky and low, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You nod, your lips tingling, your heart racing. "Yeah," you whisper. Your fingers clutch at his shirt, instinctive, desperate for something to hold in the moment. He notices, of course.

"You want to help me take it off?" he asks, his tone gentle, but there’s playfulness in his eyes. Before you can even think of a response, he adds, "I’m sorry, though – I’m not wearing a matching set."

The joke catches you completely off guard, and you burst into laughter, the sound bubbling out of you before you can stop it. It’s exactly what you needed to break the tension, and his own laugh follows yours, warm and easy.

Between the two of you, and with a bit of fumbling – your hands brushing against his, fingers slightly trembling from nerves – you manage to tug the shirt over his head. It’s ridiculous how much effort it takes with four hands involved, but you don't care.

And then the shirt is gone, and suddenly, it’s just him – his athletic torso bared to you. The way his skin catches the soft light, the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, the way he looks at you with a mix of shyness and pride – it’s all too much and not nearly enough at the same time. Your eyes widen, and you drink in the sight of him. 

"You say that," you murmur, "but this also feels like a gift."

He leans in again, brushing his lips over yours, his hands sliding back to your waist.

"Guess we’re both lucky, then," he whispers against your mouth, his words make your stomach flip, and before you can think of anything clever to say back, his lips are on yours again. 

It’s more intense now, unrestrained in a way that surprises you – makes you dizzy, even – but it never feels rushed. It feels like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have, and now that it’s here, he’s going to make it count. You melt into him, letting him take the lead, letting yourself just feel.

When you finally break apart to catch your breath, you can’t help but press a kiss to his jaw, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone. "I want this so much," you say softly, letting him know you’re ready, that you trust him completely.

He nods, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. "I know," he says, his voice steady, reassuring. "I’ve got you."

Before you even notice how it happens, the two of you are on your bed. It feels too small now, not enough space for everything you’re feeling, everything you want. But somehow, you make room for each other, shifting and adjusting until it feels like you fit perfectly.

Your lingerie set and his clothes become just another part of the decor of the room – scattered over the chair, the floor, tangled in the sheets. The candles flicker softly, making everything feel softer, more intimate. You’re grateful for it, it makes you feel less exposed, less vulnerable.

But you feel safe with Pedri and it's not just the way he holds you, though that helps – it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re something precious to him. The way his voice softens when he says your name, the way he waits, checks in with you every step of the way, as if he’s making sure you’re still right here with him.

And you are.

Every nervous thought you had before this moment, every doubt, every fear – it all melts away when he kisses you again, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of you. His hands move over you gently, as if you might break, but there’s a heat in his touch too, a quiet urgency that matches the way your body reacts to him.

You pull him closer, your fingers tracing the curve of his back, the muscles shifting under your touch. He shivers slightly, and it makes you smile, knowing you have that effect on him.

The bed creaks softly beneath you, but it’s barely a sound in the background. All you hear is the soft rustle of sheets, the faint hum of your breathing mixing with his. It’s just you and him.

And it’s perfect.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

My curse is the fact I keep saying ‘oh yeah I’ll open art commissions soon!’ And then never do because I’m secretly terrified of having to speak to people and be entrusted with their visions.

[quietwingsinthesky]

i have been thinking about that ‘give your oc a kink’ post for days. because i think even would have a thing for hypnosis. yes, yes, for character reasons of overwhelming feelings of impending failure that make the idea of having the ability to choose anything at all be taken out of their hands look extremely appealing. but also because it would be so fucking funny in the worse timeline. imagine you get stuck in time hell with a guy whose whole thing is hypnotizing people, and u hate him. u hate him so. so much.

[thirdeyeblue]

(Your tags deserved to live on!)

it's insane to me that people can't get past the nuances of rose and mickey's relationship and how they're both good people who don't do right by each other. like this is a show where the main character (allegedly) kills his entire species and you can't get past why two people who started dating in their teens might fuck each other up a bit

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst) chapter two┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. None of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb

@rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2 @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols

@icaqttt

[xazse]

Ahhhh I loved your reader hybrid works, literal chefs kiss 😩🤌 can you pls pls pls do a bunny! Reader x Suguru and Satoru

You can’t!

Synopsis: Poor Bunnygirl and puppyboySatoru are experiencing the worst heats ever, good thing their owner Suguru is there to take care of them.

Notes: Hi I decided to bring in our Puppy!BoySatoru if you don’t like it just let me know and I’ll revise this entire thing for you!!

Pairings: Puppy!HybridSatoru x Bunny!GirlReader x Suguru

Warnings: Hybrid!Reader + smut + humping + Hybrid!Satoru + drooling + licking + penetration + lots of cum very nasty + Suguru is a good owner + collars

Suguru is exhausted when he read online that getting a hybrid would take a lot of work they weren’t lying especially Bunnygirls and Puppy!Boys.

He thought he would be ready and prepared, it should be a walk in the park! Of course bumps and falls would occur but with someone as patient as Suguru everything will turn out fine.

A year in everything was so fucking perfect, You and Satoru listened so well he really lucked out with the two of you. Most people would complain on online forums that handling was the hardest thing.

The issues started arising when you and Satoru started getting needy, you were kinda independent before but now you both are always on or under Suguru, you both felt the need to always have your hands on him, roaming his body and even touching each other. More issues started to come when it felt like you and him were so feverish and always sore.

A quick google search brought Suguru to the page of hybrid heats. It happens often and can be unpredictable, it’s slapped in his face and he isn’t sure what to do

“Please-Suguru hurts so bad..”

He surely wasn’t expecting to walk into the scene he’s seeing right now, Satoru laid on his back with you atop him, tears are brimming in both your lashes it looks like you two have been crying and whining for the longest time.

You’re in nothing but panties and a thin tank top with him sporting just his underwear. Satoru’s cock is fully hard pressed agains’t your cunt so snugly and he’s already made a mess: his cum seeping through.

It looks like this is what you two have been doing for all this time, just grinding against each other. He feels terrible, he hadn’t taken the time to fully explain what would be happening to your bodies.

He makes his way over to his dumb pets and you both follow so obediently, leaving each others arms to fully envelope in his. Satoru starts licking and sucking on his neck, he isn’t shy to rub his cock so blatantly, smearing his thick load even more.

He needs to teach his hybrids how to pleasure themselves whilst he isn’t here, he stops Satoru from his suckling. He gently has you lay down admiring just how cute you look, your ears are standing at full attention but your hazy eyes aren’t all there.

He pulls off your sticky panties, a clear line of your cum visible when they’re discarded.

He’s met with an even messier sight when admiring your pussy, your folds are glistening as well as his fingers when he teases your little clit.

Suguru positions Satoru in front of your spread legs, he isn’t sure what to do with himself besides following Suguru’s every direction.

Suguru dips his fingers in your cunt again, guiding them to Satoru’s mouth he has him suck them clean.

Satoru absolutely loves the taste of you, he groans so lewdly as he’s lapping up what’s left of your essence.

When he finishes that up Suguru grabs Satoru’s leaky cock with a rough grip and taps it a few times on your soddened clit, this elicits a few moans out of the both of you. It feels so good already, and yet Suguru can’t wait to show you both just how good cumming feels.

He guides Satoru’s hips pushing his sensitive pink tip past your tight entrance.

“Ahh..ngh…”

The whimpering starts, poor puppy Satoru’s brain can’t comprehend this feeling, he knows the pleasure part of his brain is needing more but his body wants to pull away at the same time, he’s scared at how wet and hot it feels. He isn’t telling Suguru to stop so he continues.

His bunny isn’t fairing any better, you’re gripping the pillows for dear life as a fat cock, something foreign pushes inside of you for the first time.

Suguru sets a slow nice pace, hands still on Satoru’s hips guiding him inside of your wet cavern and out again and again. He’s doing all the work but he doesn’t mind one bit.

Suguru pauses working Gojo into you and lets him feel you, for real this time. Your walls are twitching and clamping down on him so hard.

He slides down into the crook of your neck and cries right there, it’s such a sad sight but so arousing at the same time.

“Cmon Toru, gotta make bunny feel good too.”

Satoru listens and begins licking your sensitive neck, he knows that’s a weak spot of yours, always triggering it when he’s roughhousing with you. His hips begin speeding up, the wet sounds of your cum mixing together and being slammed against one another is loud and bounces off the walls.

You cry out loud letting Suguru know that you feel weird, your tummy feels weird and it’s hurting. He reassures you and says to just let it go.

Suguru teases and grabs Satoru’s balls, head diving into his first load of the afternoon, it’s a good bit of cum he produces, Suguru is going to spend a good hour cleaning the both of you up!

[celesteleoves]

hcs of bakugou / todoroki being a hardcore simp for reader maybe?

“I WANNA BE YOURS.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/SHOTO TODOROKI x fem!reader.

summary: what the request said!

warnings: swearing (bakugou…), mentions of todoroki’s childhood (very brief), that’s it i believe!

a/n: i love this request. i hope i wrote this to your liking!

—

BAKUGOU KATSUKI —

he is a very subtle simp. you probably wouldn’t even think he liked you if you guys weren’t already dating. the way he shows his love for you is… questionable.

he does the simple things like following you around like a lost puppy (even though he swears he does NOT) .

he’ll definitely demand you never leave his side so he can always be there to protect you.

“you’re so weak, you need me to be there to protect you at all times.”

you’ll just nod, enjoying your boyfriends presence. (he’s actually geeking over you aswell and the fact you grace him with your presence).

he takes you everywhere with him and doesn’t care about what anyone says. oh, aizawa paired him up with kirishima? you’re coming with. you can’t stay a second away from him before he’s rushing around like a headless chicken looking for you.

your biggest fan by far, anything you do he’s practically on the floor worshipping you. then the next second he’ll be calling your outfit disgusting in the sweetest way possible.

he’ll also deny the fact he’s a simp for you. one time, kirishima caught the poor boy gazing at you, dare i say LOVINGLY, across the room as you did a mundane task.

kirishima has never grinned wider than he did when he noticed this. your boyfriend noticed the quiet chuckles leaving his friend and turned towards him.

“what the fuck are you laughing at?”

“you stalking y/n!”

“I WAS NOT STARING AT HER.” sure… liar. you literally just outed yourself…

bakugou loved you, even though he shows it in his weird, weird ways.

SHOTO TODOROKI —

the sweetest, sweetest boyfriend ever. literally the ideal boyfriend anyone could have SIMPLY because of how doting he is towards his partner.

he’s absolutely enamoured with you. he isn’t shameful about it either! (referencing one of my other head-canons) .

this boy will downright show his love for you.

we all know shoto has a hard time with social cues, he blames it on his childhood and the lack of social times he had – always being isolated.

that’s also the reason why he doesn’t understand why he can’t stare you down like a hawk and not expect people to be slightly worried… why is he staring at you like he wants to eat you?

cuteness aggression is a thing. you both get it when you’re with each other.

you can’t believe you managed to secure this boy. he never opened up to just anyone, yet for you he made an exception. you flew that all the time.

meanwhile your boyfriend is still in denial you two are dating. every time you bring up your realtionship he’s blushing like a maniac and shying away from you.

your classmates notice the little things. such as you placing your phone face up only for it to be face down a couple seconds later because todoroki fixed it for you knowing you don’t want people staring at every notification on your phone (this is so me guys i’m sorry).

he is very attentive, he’s such a simp. he’ll pick up on the little things. sometimes, you feel like he knows you better than you know yourself.

there was definitely one time you had been making yourself a snack in the kitchen, forgetting to get one of your favourite piece of food for the snack .

once your snack was made, you frowned at the missing piece of your food you wanted.

starting to get upset, you looked around for something to make up for this.

“here.” a soft voice spoke causing you to relax at the sound of todorokis gentle tone.

“i can’t find my-”

“y/n. here.”

you looked at your boyfriends hand, noticing he was holding multiple variations of the missing food item you craved.

your lips trembled at his thoughtfulness and you pulled your boyfriend in for a hug as he returned it with a soft smile on his face.

he’s too sweet for you and such a simp!

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a/n: guys, bare with me if there is spelling errors. this was not proof-read! i hope this was good enough, it was kind of short.

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