#one is a drawing that should never be seen

[c0ffeejelly1]

Manhandling him

Multiple character headcannon

Authors note: UGH pls this whole things was for jokes bc I can’t really be that ask to make something I feel is good. Teehee. Also I can mischaracterise all I want okay let a girl dream pls. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: man it’s like the smallest hint of the nasty freaky stuff

“Babe, you got something on your face. Let me just…” You reach out to your boyfriend, making him look your way by gripping his chin firmly while you flick away a bit of ‘glitter’ from his cheek. “There you go.”

Strike one.

That was just the beginning of your strange behavior today.

“Hey baby, c’mere I wanna kiss…” you call him over from the other side of the kitchen counter, only to yank on his collar and pull him in for one hell of a snog. “Seriously, you have no business looking this good today.”

Strike two.

Just what was up with you today?

You just got home from work, and as he’s about to sit up to see you, you suddenly push him back down onto the couch, mumbling something about how much you “missed him”.

Strike three.

You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your lips, but then you pause to check out his face.

Perhaps you took this prank too far…

The type to be oddly into it

“…are you hard?”

This snaps your boyfriend out of his thoughts.

He’d never ever ever thought he could find himself in a situation like this. this is the kind of stuff you see in movies, right? I mean, come on!

Just picture how mortifying it is to be turned on from someone mistreating you! It’s pathetic!

He can’t just blurt out, ‘oh hell yeah I’m hard’ in response to that question—why would anyone even think to ask that? What can a guy do in a moment like this except deny it?

“What? N-no!…” He glances away, feeling the weight of your intense gaze. “…maybe?”

When you raise an eyebrow at him, his mask crumbles entirely. There’s no use in pretending.

You’ve already seen right through him, leaving him no option but to retreat into a shadowy corner and disappear.

“Yeah.” He responds, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I…I am.”

Maybe it’s because of the way you handled him like he was nothing that made him so bothered.

Maybe it was the way you looked so desperate to have him that did it for him.

Either way, he’s discovered something about himself he never knew he ever had.

And make no mistake, you were going to exploit this discovery to the fullest.

“Have I told you how much I love you babe?” You pull back from his face after practically devouring it as he stands there, grinning like a lovesick fool, dishes still in hand.

“I think you should tell me more.”

“Wrap up with those dishes, and I’ll give you a demonstration instead.”

Be ready for one hell of a night cowgirl. Wink wink

Charcters: serizawa, armin, EREN, REINER, ukai, ATSUMU, Osamu, Gojo, CHOSO, leviathan, SATAN, DIAVOLO, IIDA, denki, tamaki, CHILDE, Cyno, sanji, LAW

The type to think you’ve finally gone crazy

you call out to him, noticing he seems lost in his phone. Yet, oddly enough, he flinches slightly every time you speak.

This reaction occurs whenever you draw near him, as if your voice startles him, even when you're just a breath away. It’s not that he dislikes your voice; rather, it feels like he’s a bit intimidated by you now.

What happened to the confident guy who was with you just two days ago? Why does he seem to be tiptoeing around you like a child with a fragile toy?

“Y/N…is everything alright?” He approaches you cautiously, maintaining a bit of distance, trying to balance his interest with a hint of hesitation. “You’ve been…um, I just wanted to check—are you upset with me?”

“Upset with you?” You set your phone aside, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be upset? Did you do something wrong?”

That’s the very question he’s grappling with. Your passionate touches and fervent kisses have left him bewildered about your feelings.

Are you so enamored that you can’t help yourself, or are you retaliating for something he might have done? Suddenly, a thought strikes him.

“…If this is about how intense things got last night, I’m sorry, but you did ask for it when I warned you I wouldn’t hold back—” His words are cut short as your hand swiftly covers his mouth.

“No! No that’s—just no. It was a prank babe, a trend I saw online” you say, removing your hand and placing both on his shoulders. “Last night has nothing to do with today or any other day.”

“Not even you complaining about being sore?”

“Not even me complaining about…wait I never did that!”

“Yeah buts it’s easy to tell.”

Charcters: REIGEN, giyuu, giyomei, JEAN, KAGEYAMA, hinata, kuroo, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, geto, NANAMI, Solomon, IZUKU, Diluc, LAIOS, zayne, LAW (Sowy I can see him as both)

The type to also manhandle you

Did you honestly believe you could manhandle him without facing the same treatment in return? Come on this is your boyfriend we’re talking about, In fact, I think he’s thrilled that you can boss him around so effortlessly.

So thrilled that he makes it into a competition

“Okay let’s see who tackles the first person on the bed.” His eyes shine with enthusiasm as he confidently places his hands on his hips. “If I win I get to have my way with you, and if you win, you get to have me have my way with you. Deal?”

You pause for a moment to process his words “…uh, how is that fair?”

“What do you mean?” he replies, brushing off your concern with a grin.

“I think it’s perfectly fair. No matter the outcome, you get a nice little reward, right?” His voice dances with mischief as he nudges you playfully with his elbow, clearly trying to elicit a reaction.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, before relenting, “I guess it’s not so bad..”

“Exactly! Now, I’m going to count down. Ready? 3…2…” Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, he lunges at you, tackling you onto the bed before he even reaches 1.

“H-hey! That’s cheating, you can’t do that!” But your protests are ignored, your boyfriend already having you wrapped in his warm embrace, his face buried against your neck.

“This is what you get for how you’ve been treating me today.”

“What are you talking about?” You pause for a moment, though you suspect he’s finally caught on to your little scheme. “You mean me kissing you like any normal woman would with the love of her life?”

“No. Just you touching me all weirdly…”

“Don’t say it like that you make me sound like a perv.”

“Maybe cause you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m not.”

Charcters: RENGOKU, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, hinata (yes again), kuroo (YESSS AGAIN), BOKUTO, TENDOU, MAMMON, DENKI (twice and what), kirishima, ITTO, rafayel, LUFFY

The type…yeah you ain’t doing that

Screw everything I just said in the intro. If you genuinely think you can manhandle this man and succeed. You’re crazy.

“Hey, come here, you’ve got something—” The moment your hand nears his face, he seizes your wrist, staring at you as if you’ve just committed a serious offense.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…I’m trying to like get the little speck of glitter off your face.”

“We don’t own glitter?”

“Dust then?” He shoots you a skeptical glance.

“…sure.”

So that was an absolute fail…

But you’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. No way! You just need to bide your time until nightfall, when he’s all soft and cuddly. That’s when you’ll make your move.

As the evening unfolds and you’re prepping for bed in the bathroom, you catch sight of him reaching for something in the cupboard above you. This is your moment. The time to pull him in close and—

SMACK

“The hell? What was that for?” He rubs his forehead, clearly taken aback by your sudden move.

Who knew kissing your boyfriend could be this complicated? Somehow, you ended up colliding headfirst into him, and now he’s clearly fed up with you.

“That wasn’t how it was supposed to go…” you say with a shy smile, nervously scratching the back of your head. “You alright?”

You gently move his hand away from his forehead to check for any damage, and to your surprise, he lets you.

Wait a minute… you actually moved his hand, and he’s okay with it? Is this manhandling? I think it’s manhandling. It’s manhandling.

“…I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I touched you!”

“??”

Pls stop confusing this man he’s already tired enough.

Charcters: dimple, akashi, MIDORIMA, aomine, sanemi, KAGEYAMA (yes again), TSUKISHIMA, iwaizumi, TOJI, LUCIFER, bakugou, AIZAWA, sylus, ZORO,

[spurbleu]

unraveling careful threads

nurse!reader x johnny mactavish (sfw oneshot)

s. johnny finds you where he needs you. wc. 2k for @kentwos, <3

you don’t know what it is about your door, but it seems to beckon chaos.

it has no business being there. on the days you return with sore heels and needle indents on your pointer and thumb, it should not follow you. the military is its ball and chain- two trenches deep behind security fences. it should remain there- you’ve told the damn thing to sit and lie and yet it stalks you to a place of respite.

stray cats pitch on fat paws by your front steps. doorbell ditches- neighborhood boys who strangle their youth. rain.

tonight, its dressed in a bleeding temple and wine cheeks. bruises beneath the porch light and leans against the wood of your door frame. lubberly smile.

“come here often?”

although your concern is sluggish, it waxes the underside of your ribs when he lumbers past you into your living room. you lock the door before following him.

“johnny? what on earth h-“

“jus’ a scuffle. some bam off his rocker- one tae maneh bevvy’s,” he limps across your carpet with a right lean- sobering up slowly as he rummages through your cabinets, “where d’ye keep yer aid?”

whatever brought him to your door had beaten off the drunken stupor. you can’t classify what replaces it, but the shadow of it follows him. wimpish, reeking of pub grease, caramelized liquor, a drying anger.

the lights of your flat soften it.

in fact, it softens him.

unfamiliarity sheets the corners of your vision. him, unmitigated substance- raw sinews that thread thick strands beneath tanned skin are left exposed to the mundane. violence in a butter dish. grisly silt on a vacuumed carpet. a sergeant in cotton.

you’ve seen him only in the context of harsh lines. charcoal draws his boots on concrete, nothing picks the gravel from his teeth, and horizon grays let him taunt grim reapers and their assault rifles. where the world is his adversary and he takes it by the throat. even in the confines of your office, the walls feel as though they’d been sanded on whetstone when he receives a third set of stitches.

delicate looked unnatural on him. johnny was rock. impenetrable, inevitable. a dulled stone, rounded and heavy, bludgeons docile until it’s drying in saline and the vim that grows haphazardly on his knuckles. he did not belong where things were soft, and certainly didn’t fit in your kitchen.

he sends you a look over his shoulder. “ah ken ‘m good lookin, but i could realleh use a bandage.”

you swallow. “what?”

realization funnels through your exhaustion. you’re on leave. so is he. neither of them, given the circumstances and distance, should converge. regardless, he stands beaten to a variant of death, offering you a wilting smile and a flirt.

your eyes narrow. “johnny, why are you here.”

“cannae wounded soldier nae get help from his favorite nurse?”

a cautious step forward. “on base. but this is my house. how-“

“christ bonnie, jus quit it with the interview ‘n give me yer aid,” he rubs his temple and leans against the fridge, “that fuckin bastard.”

the disquiet comes back in a wave.

you’re vaguely acquainted with the state. the lull of anticipation as you sit in the after brood of consequence, sore operative on a stretcher. a mothering silence, rocks you both into placidity. its where you become removed from the outcome of the stitches, the draw of their brow, the blood that gets on your shirt. fades to somewhere beyond the both of you, mental death among other reliefs. lets you work.

but its never there when you look at johnny. never has been.

you’re left so agonizingly present around him. you blamed his sound for years- the resonate baritone in foreign gaelic that forges its way into spaces that cannot fit it (medic rooms, your ears…wayward sentimental thoughts) and how after he’s stopped speaking, it lingers on the back of your neck for hours.

but the longer you’ve known him, you realize it isn’t how loud he is, or the territory of his torso- not even his eyes. it’s the untitled charm that soothes a callous under your skin. you don’t know how to name it, so you let it guide your body to the corner base cabinet, searching for your aid.

because he needs it. and you have never been above giving johnny want he needs.

“go sit down.” there’s a disjointed noise from behind you as you pull the box to the counter.

“’m perfectly capable of-“

“johnny- go sit.”

you feel him staring at your back, but when the kitchen goes quiet, you know he’s done as told. you put the kettle on the back stove and set the heat to low, before walking around the banister back to the living room, where he waits with a pouting lip and a wide sit.

what a charmer.

you set the aid on the coffee table and assess the damage. shallow gash on the right side of his temple, bruising cheekbone that swells his left eye, split lip and a smudge of blood under his nostrils.

you pause where you stand, realizing in order to be productive you’ll have to be up close. you don’t have another chair that won’t risk an unsteady hand. johnny follows your thinking rather quickly for being roughed up and half sober. “my lap donae look comfeh enough for ye, bonnie?”

this little-

out of spite, you plop ungracefully on his right thigh. you hoped- expected- a fragment of surprise. instead, he gives you a loose grin, before gently resting his hands on your hips. the breeze of his fingertips makes you flinch.

“wha-“

“jus’ tryna keep ye steady,” he close one eye, the other full of mirth, “ready for my check up, doc.”

you scoff before pulling out your cotton swabs.

the routine begins. cleaning infections, pinching the skin to prepare it for stitches, breathing slowing. all while trying to ignore the sensation of your hands ghosting over his face, and how when you pull them back, they’re burning, sweating between each gap. all this fuss over how his thumbs mindlessly fiddle with the hem of your sleep shirt.

your fingers are the spiders that web him back together. the lifelines of your palm could never reach him, but you find that he’s already been there. burrows in the vulnerable fissures of your body, your mind, until you’re unravelling while he’s sewn together.  

and yet, you’re anchored. calmed. his discord serves as relief from a world that is inherently boring. you’d feel compelled to thank him if you think he’d understand.

“yer makin tha’ face again.”

you pause the needle before it hits his skin. “what face?”

“yer lip puffs out and yer brows do tis’ ting where d’ey meet n ta’ middle of yer-“ he smiles to himself and loses your eyes, “ye make it when ye need tae focus.”

you squint. “does it bother you?”

he laughs. a deep sound, resonates with the child in you that remembers waves against mercury bluffs, or watching thunder from your bedroom window. awe. having heard them before, and yet they sound foreign every time.

“nae,” he shakes his head softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a classic grin. if you had been standing, your knees would weaken at the gnaw of their blue when he looks at you again, “nae quite ta’ opposite. might be the most beautiful thing i’ve eva’ seen.”

the ceiling fan whirrs above you in a rhythm that matches your heartbeat, the carpet feels decade rough on your socks, and the clock in the corner is quieter than it’s ever been. and it’s all because a man who takes up leagues of space just by smiling called you beautiful.

you’d never say that aloud though. you’d be feeding the thing that makes him that way.  

“you’re hopeless.” is all that you muster.

he smiles, but its without gravity. it’s almost sad. “aye, maybe for ye.”

you lose yourself in the moments you find him like this. pliant, willing, gentle. (is that how cain killed abel? virgin hands wield a rock on innocence? softness weaponizing itself? you’re unsure, but when he meets your eyes for a third time, you’re convinced he’s waiting to kill you with the tender that holds you still on his thigh.)

“this is going to hurt.”

he recoils when you push the needle through the edge of his temple, but relaxes with a labored exhale. suddenly its quiet like it hadn’t been before. a breed of silence where you realize how close you are, how you swallow his breath, and feel the blimp of his pulse on your hip bone.

it doesn’t take long for you to finish closing the tear. when he feels you pull away, he tips his head up to look at you.

“looks like i came tae the righ’ d-“

“why are you out at this hour?”

your interruption is involuntary if anything else, but now that you look at him- half blue and half bloody- the concern you usually remove from patients rears an ugly head and hits the roof of your mouth.

he falters. “wha’d’ye mean?”

you drag your knuckles across his cheek bone and the flesh swelters. plums where other men became sideways and angry- and it’s the cotton in you that can’t help but swipe a thumb over it. he cringes, but you persist until the pad of your thumb cools where it burns. when you find his eyes, you lose something in your lungs.

“I…I know you’re on leave, and your life is your own but…” you pretend to idle your hands over his jaw- looking for any contusions, or perhaps a lifeline that could stabilize you as you rest on his lap, “getting into fights at pubs isn’t exactly the point of a vacation.”

he sighs before looking at your palm, “I…” his voice below a whisper, his stubble barely itching your fingers tells you he’s trying not to startle you,  “I get… antsy. gets me inta’ trouble,” he offers you a clumsy smile, “donae think I’m capable of sittin’ still for very long.”

you steal a look at his lips. they’re not bleeding anymore. you blink. “you’re doing it now.”

he gives you a look like you’re torturing him and your mouth dries. “I’ve got ye on my lap. ay’d be a very, very foolish man, to move now.”

johnny has a way of saying things so simply that you think it’s better if you say nothing at all.

instead you take antiseptic and wipe his stitches clean. the only remnants that remain of night- the swell of his eye, the healing cut on his temple- are now replaced with remnants of you. needle and thread, careful breath, your skin on his.

you didn’t know nursing could ever feel so intimate.

“i’m…you’re all..” you swallow the blue in his eyes like their air, “done.”

he nods, but doesn’t move. in fact, neither of you do.

the lamp light tames the sting of his iris. they can’t startle a paralysis under downy soft yellow. instead, hot blue steel melts you. diminishes your flesh and bone to the second skin he has a tendency to stare at it until it’s been torn apart and pieced together. the countless times you’ve done it for him under a needle and thread do not compare to what he does with his eyes.

it’s an oddity you’ve grown much to fond of for something that is so inherently finite.

“i…meant what i said,” this will not last, “about you being beautiful.”

it will pass, god let it pass. “Johnny…”

the teapot whistles from the kitchen brings you back to your senses. you cough the penciled fear into your fist and try for a smile. both of you know its not honest.

“sit tight.”

the tea is still warm in your belly as you watch him shuck his coat on his shoulders from your position on the wall. you both remain comfortably mute, in this odd routine that doesn’t feel new at all. despite every experience tonight proving something different, as he stands at your door you’re prompted with an overwhelming rush of deja’vu.

“you sure you’re alright to drive home?” you stifle a yawn. “I know you’ve slept on more uncomfortable surfaces than my couch.”

he laughs, albeit its muddled by his own exhaustion. “very temptin’ bonnie. but i cannae stay- gotta get back to my own.” something other than his own bed is tugging him out the door, but you let a sleeping dog lay (or, an injured sergeant lie).

he opens your door and turns to face you before walking out. you can’t tell if the shiver is from the cold rush of air that hits your bare elbows, or the preserving look he throws your way. “thank ye, bonnie. yer a life saver.”

you smile. “i would say come again, but i feel like that’s redundant.”

he nods. his eyes flit to the space behind you and then back to your face. he pulls his hand from his pocket and tucks a stray behind your ear, and you swear it’s the first time you’ve seen the sergeant properly blush.

“sweet dreams, mm bonnie?”

“yeah. get home safe,” your smile broads, “not keen on staying awake too much longer to fish you out of trouble again.”

he nods, stepping out the threshold of your door. you feel like you’ve lost things tonight but gained something infinitely more important. “goodnight, Johnny.”

“g’night.”

you don’t realize that its yearning until his footfall recedes back into a world that is boundless and without your hands to keep him threaded together.

at least then, he’ll return to you.

[revelboo]

Revel my eternal saviour, I plead more tarn and my life is yours. Seriously that cliffhanger!!!!! Aaack!

Sure!

L.G. Fuad Pt 9

Tarn x Reader

• Head lowering, he leans into your space. That anger still sizzling through him and you cringe, chirping fearfully as your head turns away, eyes closing. And you’re repeating something in your language, voice breaking. Freezing when he recognizes you’re trying to say his name amid whatever else you’re saying. Venting against you, he should take some satisfaction in your obvious fear. In scaring you into never trying that again, instead it leaves him unsettled. And still uncomfortably aware of his own frame’s response to you.

• “I’m sorry, Tarn, I’m sorry,” babbling apologies because he’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. Snarling at you and you shudder when he presses his masked face against your throat and you can feel him venting against you, one of his hands pinning both of yours above your head. And you gasp when he catches your chin and forces your head to turn his way as his own head lifts. Growling something at you that sounds furious. “I’m sorry.” That little glimpse of his face hadn’t been worth his anger or your life. Because he’s that angry. “Tarn, please.”

• “Anyone else who tried that would be dead right now,” he whispers, tapping a servo against your soft cheek until you open your eyes. And his anger fizzles somewhat, those frightened eyes leaking. “Anyone else,” he repeats, voice strained. Still aroused and angry and frustrated with you, everything mixing together into a bitter confusion. And you’re still brokenly chirping his name, breath hitching and leaking even more. “Stop that,” he growls, unconsciously modulating his voice. Using his outlier ability on you.

• It’s like someone cut your strings, body just going limp. Aware of yourself, of the weight of your body in a way you’ve never been before. Unable to breathe. Lungs just refusing to draw in a breath. Unable to twitch a finger or blink. Just staring up at those red optics as panic claws at you. Him. It’s him. Hear him growl as your lungs burn and know without knowing how that he’d done this to you somehow. Trapped you in your own body while it slowly dies because you’d made him angry.

• Freezing when you just stop, eyes staring at nothing. Little chest no longer rising and he realizes what he’s done. Hadn’t meant to no matter how angry he was. Didn’t want this. “Breathe,” he growls. “Live for me.” Pouring his ability into the words, willing you to obey and you take a shuddering, terrified breath. And immediately go wild, trashing and bucking in his grip. Screaming at him as he hooks an arm around you and sits back to drag you into his lap. Pinning you as you fight to escape him, sobbing. He’d lost control. Used his ability without meaning to. That shouldn’t be possible. You shouldn’t be able to affect him like you do. To not only want you that way, but to let you get under his plating. Cupping your head against his chassis, his servos are shaking as it sinks in just how dangerous you are. You’re a threat.

Previous

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[anomaliex]

Collection of headcanons not elaborate enough for own word vomit post:

- I don't think Kristen can swim. She has the vibes of someone who never learned as a kid and now it's too late to bring up without being embarrassed. (Also I thought about what would happen if she fell in water — mechanically she's wearing heavy armor, would Brennan just let her swim since she's in universe only in a tracksuit or would she sink without a sufficient strength check? Idk, but that's how I got to the no swimming conclusion.)

- insanely weird hc to have but i think Fabian shaves his arm hair. Also like legs and arm pits i guess but the way more unusual and therefore notable thing is arms. This guy kills any body and facial hair on sight. Like no one has ever seen him with as much as stubble outside of Cathilda or the Bad Kids when they were sleeping over. Why? Idk he just prefers that, no deeper reason. I do think elves generally have less body hair but here his human genes come through so he has to shave. Or get it lasered away I guess. You can do that right?? He's rich. Maybe he'd do it.

- also Fabian's depth perception is dog shit. Using his crossbow is less impressive because Fandrangor is simply a better weapon and his flourishes and manoeuvres rely on melee combat, I know, but to me it's also just that he's better at hitting things real close to him.

- Riz is the kinda guy to have chronic migraines and think it's fine. "Everyone has headaches sometimes and I do sleep a lot less than I should ahaha" (the amount of coffee he drinks is barely saving him from the horrors.)

- Adaine also gets a lot of migraines in what I think are more. Passive non specific visions? Like a gut feeling that's always correct and also makes her body hate her. The proper visions are comparable to absence seizures I think? Like I don't wanna say it's that because it's magic but the process is kind of the same in the sense that she's out for like ten to thirty seconds and it can really suck

- I also think Adaine has synaesthesia! I can't really put this into words well so I'm not even gonna try, but she perceives certain sounds and/or colours at times where there shouldn't be sounds and/or colours. I think those associations also to an extend help in drawing connections between less specific visions and real life.

- we know Gorgug has a drumset in his room I think it's electronic. But like not in a normal way like we have them irl it's some insane artificer shit that would justify so much more noise complaints than a regular one and also could probably have its own pyrotechnics idfk. It's fully a safety hazard but it doesn't even rank on the top 10 of worst things to have in your house that is a TREE that the Thistlesprings casually own.

- I think either Fig or Kristen would be the shortest medium creature type Bad Kid. Like obviously Riz is four feet tall max but he's in a whole different category lmao

- Fig sometimes puts little braids in Jawbone's fur and he happily lets her. He only properly adopted Adaine and Fig has more than enough dads, but he does still act as sort of a paternal figure to her (and every other kid ((which in this case includes Ragh but maybe not Aelwyn)) in mordred manor because he's just a caring guy and it's hard not to grow attached) so that's their pseudo daddy-daughter bonding

- Fabian doesn't like, hate Gilear as much as he used to? Like he still has his moments but overall he thinks he's a good guy and absolutely has the "well I can shit on him but I'm gonna kill this other guy who did. How dare you make fun of my Mama's beloved??" mindset. But uhm he tries to make Gilear work out with him so he can "stop being death fodder". Gilear is a commoner and everyone else in Seacaster Manor absolutely is not and like he likes it and he loves these people but he does kind of live in hell. His wife? Could kill him. His step son? Could kill him. The maid? Could kill him. The dog slash motor cycle?? Could kill him. One hit. Also the entire current Seacaster household are dexterity based fighters they're all so graceful and skilled he's fully just a guy that spills every drink ever on himself

- I think the Hangman loves Cathilda because she gives good chin scritchies (hound form obviously lol) Generally he tends to mirror Fabian's attitude towards people anyway so he's always liked her, but once he started being a hound more she started petting him and giving him treats and he is smitten

- Gorgug (and sometimes Ragh or Ayda) play extreme fetch with the Hangman. Like I need to stress that he's not just a big dog he's large enough to be a mount, which means he'd have to be the size of a horse. Maybe a small horse sure but that's still a horse-sized dog. I think his mini looks fairly big but in my heart he's bigger. So yeah fetch with him (which they mainly do because they want him to feel comfortable in both forms because he's so good) is really big sticks. Like not logs or anything but sticks the average person can't huck all that far. Fabian casts enhance ability on himself so he can also do it, lol. The wonders of multiclassing into bard.

- I think the only Bad Kids who never use makeup are Riz and Kristen. Gorgug doesn't do it every day and not that much but he uses eyeliner sometimes. Fig's makeup is the most noticeable and usually very fun.

- Gorgug has kissed Ragh at least twice. So at least one time after the prom thing. I don't mean this in a ship way I mean this in I look at Gorgug and then I look at Ragh and I go yeah these guys have shared at least one tender bro kiss. I mean I think Gorgug is the kinda guy that would kiss all of his friends if they wanted to because it's not that big of a deal to him and he loves them but not everyone is comfortable w/ that lol. He and Kristen kiss each other on the cheek though, I think (this does not mean he wants to see her naked in public please put your clothes back on Kristen??)

[yassbishimvintage]

Hearts on Deck (2)

A/N: Part two of Hearts on Deck

Over the next few weeks, Cleo barely had time to dwell on that night with Aaron. Work consumed her—photoshoots, brand deals, events, and endless meetings. Her schedule was relentless, and she let it be.

If she kept busy, she wouldn’t have to think about how often she caught herself scrolling past his name in her following list. Or how, every now and then, she’d notice him quietly liking a post of hers—never commenting, never drawing attention, just there.

Still, she pushed those thoughts aside.

Then, one day, her manager called with news.

"Pack your bags," she said. "We just locked in a campaign with a London-based brand. You’ll be flying out next week."

Cleo paused mid-sip of her morning smoothie. "London?"

"Yep. Big deal, too. High fashion, high exposure, all the right circles. Perfect for you."

London.

She hadn’t been there in a while. And yet, the first thing that came to mind wasn’t the campaign or the business opportunities.

It was Aaron.

She hadn’t spoken to him since that night. A few quiet Instagram interactions, sure, but no messages, no calls.

Still, as she sat there, the prospect of being in his city stirred something in her.

Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe she wouldn’t even run into him.

But as she stared at her phone, her fingers hovering over his name, she couldn’t help but wonder—

Should I let him know?

When Cleo touched down in London, she was immediately swept up in the whirlwind of work. The city, as always, buzzed with energy—traffic moving in a constant hum, people rushing in every direction, the air thick with ambition. But for Cleo, there was no room for distraction.

She barely had time to take in the sights of the city as her schedule kicked into full gear.

Meetings with the brand team. Photoshoots in glamorous studios. Press interviews. London’s high fashion scene was demanding, and Cleo was at the center of it all. She slipped seamlessly between different looks—fierce and confident for a runway-ready shoot, then effortlessly chic for an editorial spread.

There was no room for anything else.

But in the rare moments between appointments—on the car ride to the next shoot, during quiet breaks in the hotel suite—her mind still wandered back to Aaron.

Had he seen her posts? Had he noticed she was in town? She wondered if he was still following her updates, but she didn't dare check.

She had too much to do. Too many eyes on her, too many deals to seal.

Work kept her grounded, focused. It kept her from wondering if the city had a way of drawing people together or keeping them apart.

She was here for a reason, and that reason wasn’t about him. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

One evening, after a long day of meetings and filming content, Cleo found herself invited to a high-profile dinner. The kind of event where you’re surrounded by designers, influencers, actors, and models—all the industry’s top players gathered under one roof.

She arrived at the lavish venue, a sleek, modern restaurant tucked away in one of London’s upscale neighborhoods. The decor was minimalist but elegant, with soft lighting and an atmosphere that felt as curated as the guest list.

Cleo made her way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces and industry insiders. She had her guard up, staying focused on the task at hand, working the room, engaging in conversation. But then, something made her stop.

A familiar laugh echoed through the space—a sound she hadn’t realized she’d been craving to hear.

She turned slightly, her heart skipping a beat, and there he was.

Aaron.

He was standing near the bar, laughing with a small group of people. His presence was unmistakable, even amidst the crowd. He was effortlessly stylish, dressed in a tailored blazer over a turtleneck, his hair slightly tousled in that way that made him look both polished and laid-back at the same time. His hazel eyes caught the light in the room, and for a moment, Cleo couldn’t breathe.

She watched him, not wanting to seem obvious, but not being able to look away. There was something magnetic about him—how he carried himself, how he interacted with people, how he made a room feel smaller and warmer just by being in it.

Then, he turned his head slightly.

Their eyes met across the room. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to still.

Cleo felt a flutter in her chest, but she quickly steadied herself, reminding herself that she wasn’t here for this.

Aaron’s gaze lingered just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of that same quiet intensity. But then, he smiled—a subtle, almost private smile that felt like an invitation.

She had a choice.

To walk over. To acknowledge him. To see where this might go.

Or to stay focused, to keep moving through the night.

Cleo took a deep breath. The pull of curiosity was there. The question of what could happen if they spoke again was on her mind. But she wasn’t sure she was ready to let that feeling take the lead.

Instead, she turned her attention back to the conversation she’d been having, keeping her gaze steady ahead.

But she knew one thing for certain.

London had a way of bringing things full circle.

And this? This encounter was only the beginning.

-

Cleo stiffened slightly, the gentle touch on her shoulder sending a jolt through her. She knew exactly who it was before she even turned around.

She didn’t need to look, but she did anyway. Slowly, deliberately.

Aaron.

He stood behind her, his smile easy, but there was something in his eyes—something soft, like he had been waiting for the right moment to approach. His voice was low and warm, just for her. “Cleo.”

She swallowed, feeling a mix of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place. “Aaron.” She kept her tone casual, but inside, her pulse quickened.

The space between them suddenly felt smaller, and all the noise of the room seemed to fade into the background. She could hear the slight edge of his accent in his voice, the familiar sound she had replayed in her head more than once since their last encounter.

He tilted his head slightly, glancing at her, a subtle glint in his eyes. “Funny running into you here. Didn’t expect to see you at this thing.”

Cleo smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “London has a way of surprising you.”

He laughed softly, a quiet sound that made her heart skip. “You have no idea.” His gaze flickered over to the crowd, then back to her. “Mind if I steal you for a second? Or are you busy?”

Cleo hesitated, weighing her options. She could stay in the crowd, go along with the dinner and the event. But something about his presence was drawing her in, making her want to break away from the carefully constructed façade she’d built for herself.

With a small nod, she finally said, “I think I can spare a few minutes.”

Aaron’s smile deepened, a little relieved, as he stepped back to let her lead the way.

The moment felt lighter somehow—no longer just a chance encounter, but something more. Something new.

As they moved away from the hustle and bustle of the dinner, Cleo couldn’t help but wonder what this moment would lead to.

“For a recluse you’re out in the open.” She says.

Aaron chuckled softly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I have my moments.” He glanced around, taking in the lively scene before them. “But sometimes, the right crowd can make things feel less... overwhelming. This doesn’t feel too bad.”

Cleo raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “And you’re really telling me you’re comfortable in a room full of people?”

He shrugged, a little self-deprecating, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m more comfortable in smaller spaces. But every now and then, I don’t mind stepping out of my shell. Just to keep the peace.” His gaze locked with hers. “Though, I’d say I’m happier when I’m just talking to you.”

Her breath caught for a moment at his sincerity, the directness of his words making her feel like the entire world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

She shifted slightly, trying to keep her cool. "You’re good at this," she said, trying to make light of the sudden weight in the air between them. "You make it sound easy."

Aaron leaned in just a little closer, his voice low. “It’s easy when it feels right.”

Cleo could feel her pulse pick up again. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Her mind was racing. Aaron was a man of few words, but when he did speak, it carried weight. There was something undeniably magnetic about him.

“Well, I’m glad this feels right.” She smiled, but inside, she couldn’t help but wonder how much of that pull was just the moment, and how much of it was something deeper—something they couldn’t ignore.

-

As the first notes of Jon B’s “They Don’t Know” started to fill the air, Cleo couldn’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere. The soft, smooth melody was familiar, nostalgic even, and it brought with it an unexpected sense of intimacy.

She glanced at Aaron, who seemed just as attuned to the change in the room. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a grin. “I didn’t take you for a fan of the classics,” he said, his voice low as the lyrics began to flow softly through the space.

Cleo smirked, though her heart skipped a beat at the thought of the song playing right now, of all moments. "I know a good track when I hear one." She wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly felt a little more vulnerable, a little more aware of him standing so close.

The song’s smooth rhythm seemed to echo her thoughts, stirring something deeper between them—something unspoken. It wasn’t the kind of music you'd expect to hear at a high-end event, yet it was as if the universe had just decided to press play on something that felt like it was made for this moment.

Aaron’s gaze softened, and for a second, he stepped just a bit closer, the space between them shrinking. “You know,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers, “I never thought I’d hear this song in a place like this. But it’s... fitting.”

Cleo tilted her head slightly, sensing the weight behind his words, but still keeping her composure. “Fitting for what?” she asked, her voice a little quieter now, the beat of the song giving everything a kind of timeless rhythm.

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before he answered, “Fitting for us. The way this moment feels.”

Her heart skipped again. She didn’t have to say anything. The unspoken understanding was there, hanging in the air between them. The song seemed to pull them closer, in its own subtle way.

Cleo took a deep breath, unsure of how far she wanted to let things go—unsure of how much she was ready to give in to this pull. But the moment felt so natural, so easy with him, that she could almost forget everything else.

Jon B’s smooth voice floated around them, and for a brief second, Cleo allowed herself to lean a little closer, feeling the soft pull of the music and the chemistry between them. “Well, looks like we’re dancing whether we like it or not,” she said with a playful smile.

Aaron’s grin widened, and without saying another word, he extended his hand to her.

Cleo hesitated just for a second, but then, without a word, she took it.

“What do you consider us?” He asks. She shrugs. “I guess friends who go on dates?” She says.

Aaron’s eyes softened as he looked at her, his fingers still gently holding hers. There was something in his gaze—curious, yet vulnerable, as though he was waiting for her answer to mean something deeper.

“Friends who go on dates, huh?” he repeated, a small laugh escaping his lips, but it was a little quieter than usual. He shifted, still holding her hand as they swayed to the slow rhythm of the song.

Cleo shrugged, trying to keep things light, but her mind was racing. She hadn’t really thought about what they were. In the back of her mind, there had always been something pulling her towards him. But she wasn’t the type to rush into defining things. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready for that kind of conversation yet.

“I mean, yeah,” she said, her voice calm but her heartbeat a little faster than usual. “We hang out, we talk, we enjoy each other’s company. Isn’t that what a date is?”

Aaron gave her a soft, knowing smile, his thumb grazing over her hand. He looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I guess,” he said quietly, “but it feels like more than that to me.”

Cleo’s chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. She looked up at him, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. There was a beat, a pause, where the whole world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, and she wasn’t sure how to respond.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I don’t want to rush anything, but... I feel like there’s something here. Something more than just friends. Do you feel it too?”

Cleo’s heart raced, and she suddenly felt the weight of the moment. Her instincts told her to be careful, to hold back. She didn’t know what to make of this feeling—of him. They had shared a connection from the moment they met, but this? This was different.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes avoiding his for a moment. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure what this is... yet.”

Aaron didn’t seem discouraged. Instead, he nodded, his expression softening with understanding. He gently squeezed her hand, a reassuring gesture. “That’s fair. We don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Cleo nodded, relieved by his calm response. “Yeah,” she said quietly, her gaze returning to his. “We’ll figure it out when the time’s right.”

For now, the moment was enough. The song played on, and they continued to sway together, the connection between them undeniable but still unspoken, floating between them in the soft glow of the evening.

-

At her hotel, she’s editing posts for her Instagram then she’ll turn her attention to her YouTube channel. Being a full time lifestyle content creator she had to stay on edge.

Cleo sat at the desk in her hotel room, the soft glow of her laptop screen lighting up her face. The steady rhythm of her fingers typing was a comforting sound, but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think about the night with Aaron—the conversation they had, the way he made her feel, and that unexpected pull between them.

But work was always her anchor. She couldn’t afford to get lost in her thoughts right now.

Her Instagram posts needed editing first—captions, hashtags, filters—all the details that made her content stand out. As a full-time lifestyle influencer, it was a game of keeping everything fresh, relevant, and engaging. Her followers expected consistency, and she never wanted to fall short.

She scrolled through the photos she had taken earlier, adjusting the colors on one before moving on to the next. Each picture had its own story, each caption had its own voice. It was all about showing the world the side of her she wanted them to see—glamorous, yet real.

She sighed lightly, her mind briefly wandering back to Aaron. He had felt like a moment outside of all this—outside of the hustle, the branding, the influencer persona. She quickly shook her head, refocusing on her work.

Next up was her YouTube channel. The idea for her next video was already half-formed in her mind—behind-the-scenes footage of her day-to-day life, with a focus on some of her favorite skincare and beauty routines. Maybe she’d throw in a little Q&A with her followers to mix things up.

But before she dove into that, she had to make sure her social media platforms were all aligned. Her stories were updated with sneak peeks of what was coming, and she made sure to engage with the comments that were pouring in. She couldn’t afford to let her fans feel neglected, not when they were so loyal.

The pressure of maintaining this constant presence was always there, but it was something Cleo had learned to handle. It was a balancing act, keeping up with the demands of being a public figure, but also staying true to herself.

Just as she finished responding to a few comments, her phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced down, expecting it to be a work-related message, but saw a text from an unknown number.

She hesitated for a moment before opening it.

“Hey, it’s Aaron. Just wanted to check in and say I hope your day’s going well. Maybe we can catch up soon?”

Cleo smiled to herself, her heart skipping a beat. She had been wondering if he’d reach out, but seeing the message still surprised her.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about how to respond. She didn’t want to seem too eager, but she also didn’t want to shut him out.

After a moment, she typed back:

“Hey, thanks for checking in. It’s going well, just staying busy as usual. Let’s catch up soon.”

She hit send and sat back, feeling that familiar rush that came with communication in the digital world—always a mix of excitement and a touch of uncertainty.

She quickly refocused on her YouTube plans, but part of her was already looking forward to whatever would come next with Aaron.

Soon a post from the event she recently attended she was tagged in. And so was Aaron. 

Cleo’s phone buzzed again, this time with a notification from Instagram. She unlocked it and saw a new post from the event she had attended recently. It was a photo of the crowd, taken from the side, capturing a moment of laughter between her and Aaron. In the shot, they were both caught mid-conversation, her hand gesturing animatedly, and Aaron looking at her with that easy smile of his.

She felt a sudden warmth flood through her. It was a candid moment, unposed, but it had captured something genuine. The kind of connection she didn’t always expect from the world of curated, perfect photos.

The caption was lighthearted, tagging both of them, with a playful nod to the chemistry between them.

"When two people from opposite sides of the world meet... magic happens. 👏 #LA #LondonVibes #EventVibes #NewConnections #AaronAndCleo"

The post already had a few thousand likes, and the comments were rolling in, mixing curiosity with excitement. People seemed to be taking note of the chemistry between her and Aaron, but the last thing Cleo wanted was to deal with the frenzy of public speculation.

She paused for a moment, staring at the post. The idea of being linked to Aaron in the public eye was both exciting and a little overwhelming. She couldn’t help but feel a little exposed, but she also couldn’t deny how much she appreciated the unexpected connection they’d found.

A few notifications popped up, and she saw that Aaron had liked the post too, his own comment under the photo:

"Great to meet you in person, Cleo. Looking forward to more conversations soon."

Cleo smiled at his comment, finding it both sweet and refreshingly simple. His words didn’t feel forced or calculated. It was just... real.

She considered responding but stopped herself. It wasn’t about playing games; it was just that she wasn’t sure what to say in front of everyone. She’d rather keep things a little more private, especially with the whirlwind of attention that came with their public interaction.

Instead, she decided to focus on the work at hand. She responded to a few more Instagram comments and then set her phone down to finish editing her YouTube content.

But even as she worked, a part of her couldn’t help but think about what this could mean. The public tag, the interactions—they were all signals of something bigger. She didn’t want to rush into anything, but she couldn’t deny the connection.

And as the notifications kept coming, she realized that no matter how much she tried to focus on her work, a small part of her was already looking forward to whatever came next with Aaron.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @todorokishoe24 @chaoticcoffeequeen @gopaperless @jenlovey @notapradagurl7

[bwat5-blog]

It Was Never Jinx's War

**Spoilers For Arcane**

I have written quite a bit about Jinx, and touched on this topic briefly, but I felt that it deserved more than my sarcastic blurbs. Today I wanted to talk a little bit about Jinx, and her being forced into the role of a revolutionary by her people and fans alike. So what do I actually mean?

I mean to address statements like these from fans:

Jinx should have lead Zaun in a civil war!

Jinx should have ripped Caitlyn apart!

The writers are coward for making Jinx apologize to Caitlyn!

What did they do to Revolutionary Jinx?! She was meant to lead the uprising!

I'm not going to spend time going through her whole story again. I have done so many times in various forms as have many others. And I have to assume if you are on Tumblr reading some grouchy nerd's rambling about Jinx, you already know her story. So first let's discuss one question.

Does Jinx hate Piltover/The Enforcers?

OBVIOUSLY. And she has every reason to. Growing up as a Zaunite means she grew up suffering under Piltovan oppression. And the Enforcers took her parent's lives. Take Silco and his teachings totally out of the picture and Jinx still has every reason to feel how she feels. I don't deny that at all. But feeling that way is not the same as being a violent revolutionary for her own reasons and choices. So let's discuss the moments from season 1 that created this false idea that the Jinx we know was fighting for her people's freedom with what she did.

SEASON 1

As A Kid:

It probably seems silly to most of you, it certainly did to me. But I have legitimately seen the example used that Powder was making bombs and had filled one with nails for the Enforcers to justify this idea. Listen folks, she was 11. I'm not saying she didn't want to help her family or wasn't willing. But equating that with wanting to be part of a violent revolution is foolish. In fact we see that childish (not said negatively just honestly) enthusiasm without consideration of consequence play out when she tries to help save Vander.

2. The Theft:

Okay. So this is her first real act as Jinx that I have seen attributed to her being a revolutionary for Zaun fighting the system. Most of the justification for this comes down to the simple fact that she stole from Piltover and hurt Enforcers. Jinx lights a building on fire, drawing Enforcers in using a fake child's voice, then blows it up killing six Enforcers and stealing the hex-tech gemstone. What does that mean?

Stole a source of power from Piltover that gives Silco and opportunity to study hex-tech

Killed Enforcers

Okay. I can see the revolutionary point for sure. Except for one problem. Jinx didn't do any of this for Zaun. Let's roll the tape!

Our reintroduction to Powder who has now become Jinx is the fight between Silco's people and The Firelights on Progress Day. During that incident Jinx sees a firelight that resembles Vi and loses control. This leads to conflict with Sevika.

Later, Sevika and Silco are discussing what happened. Sevika is angry:

Sevika: "She's a problem and we all know it" Silco shuts her down. It is then revealed Jinx has been listening the entire time and she talks with Silco: Jinx: "one of those firelight wackos was a girl with pink hair" Silco: "todays screwup will set us back weeks" Jinx: "I'm sorry" Silco: "I need to know I can rely on you..... Sevika will clean up todays mess" Jinx: "Sevika? That ogre couldn't clean a dust bunny with a blow torch" Silco: "Take some time" Jinx: "I don't need time" Silco: "Take it anyhow"

Jinx is quite visibly upset and leaves

We rejoin Jinx later in her hideout. She is upset, convincing herself it wasn't Vi, talking to the specter of Mylo, justifying the incident that it was just her getting confused. then she says some key dialogue here:

"Now, he thinks I'm weak...I'm not weak... and I'm gonna show him. Oh, I'm gonna show him. You'll see".

And the explosion and theft are how she does so. How she proves to her adoptive father that she isn't weak. And it works! It gives her the validation she is desperate for. When he first comes in he is the most outwardly angry with her we ever see him on screen.

Until she shows him the stone:

Silco values strength above all. We see him espouse this over and over. Jinx has certainly heard it plenty although unless I'm mistaken we don't see him preaching it directly to her until later. She is worried he sees her as lacking the most important quality to him, so she goes out and proves it and now she feels accepted and safe again. Not to mention the fact that her early childhood trauma left a very real mental scar in her regarding feelings of being weak/not ready/a Jinx. I mean come on, it isn't exactly subtle that the specter we see tormenting her more prominently than any is this fucker (calling the delusion that not the dead child. Don't yell at me lol)-

She didn't do any of this for Zaun. She did it because part of her is still a little girl that's terrified if she isn't strong enough she is going to be all alone.

3. The Bridge:

Alright moving on. The next big one that gets mentioned frequently is Jinx attacking the bridge. Again, I can see the argument to a point. Killing the leader of The Enforcers and reclaiming the stone. Definite points for the "Zaunite Revolution". Except for a few things.

She is watching the bridge when Vi says goodbye to Caitlyn & Ekko. Mostly just arguing with "Mylo" about Vi.

2. She doesn't look angry until she sees the stone. The stone that symbolizes Silco's acceptance and recognition of her strength, and therefore his love.

3. She doesn't attack when she sees the stone. she doesn't attack when Marcus shoots Ekko. She is overwhelmed by her mental illness and attacks when Vi "leaves her" again, running back toward the bridge after the gunshot.

4. The symbol of Silco's love is in jeopardy, and she feels like Vi is leaving all over again. Once more she is a little girl facing the terrifying prospect of being all alone again and it's quite simply too much. Look how big Mylo is over her.

I mean this just isn't subtle. This was not the act of a freedom fighter assassinating an enemy. This was the act of a mentally ill young woman losing control and unleashing violence in an attempt to hold on to what she is terrified to lose.

4. Abducting Caitlyn:

Not much to say here but it is worth mentioning as it frequently gets filed under the "Jinx = Oppressed, Caitlyn = Oppressor, so Jinx abduct and possibly torture Caitlyn = Okeydokey Artichokey!" crowd. This didn't have a damn thing to do with Zaun. Because of Silco and Sevika's manipulations, Jinx's history with Enforcers, and Jinx's mental illness she viewed Caitlyn as the one keeping Vi from her and she acted out jealousy, fear and rage.

5. Attack On the Council:

Ok. This is in the big one that is probably the most hotly debated. By now we all know the context here. Jinx has abducted Silco, Vi and Caitlyn to host her dinner party. Silco is now dead, and in a moment of "accepting" who she is Jinx strikes at the Council of Piltover, unknowingly during the very moment they are ratifying Zaunite independence.

Silco's words echo over the strike while the hauntingly beautiful "what could have been" plays. It is truly a moving moment and all sarcasm or nastiness aside let me say that I do understand how people are interpreting this scene the way they are.

Jinx sits in the chair seemingly accepting herself as the daughter of Silco and inheritor of his legacy

Vi blames herself for creating jinx. The camera cuts to Vi multiple times during the song.

Jinx gives the whole "I thought you could love me like you used to" speech. Onece again just piling onto Vi and implying Jinx knows who she is now.

Jinx is clearly remorseful for shooting Silco and striking at his enemies would be a logically fitting way to respond

However, it is not that simple. Jinx is not making the first strike for her people in the wake of her adopted fathers death. She is a grieving, enraged, and yes mentally ill young woman in the middle of a breakdown lashing out at a symbol of pain and loss in her world.

I recently wrote a short sarcastic little blurb about this and that was my bad. This topic deserves more. But someone responded that I was implying Jinx was not capable making plans or decisions in that moment because of her mental illness. That is not what I mean. What I mean is that Jinx's heart and mind are an open ragged wound in this moment, and she lashes out at something that has always symbolized loss and pain and anger. Smashing it down into a first strike for freedom is not only illogical based on narrative evidence, but robs the moment of what Jinx is really going through.

"What Could Have Been":

This song narratively takes us into Jinx's pov as this moment plays out. It is beautiful, and haunting. The key however, as we are hearing Jinx's perspective play out, is to remember that her mind is not well.

We have been watching her unravel more and more since the beginning of S1 A2. Think back to when she and Vi first reunite. She is clearly ashamed of what she has done with Silco. Put that up against her shooting at Vi even one episode later on the bridge.

2. She is still extremely fresh from the Shimmer procedure that even though it saved her life was horrific and painful to the point it could have killed her.

3. She abducts Caitlyn nude from her bathroom and tells Vi she be Powder again if Vi will just murder Caitlyn.

4. She kills Silco in the middle of a breakdown

5. Quite frankly. The whole "dinner party" itself. There is not a damn thing in the world about her behavior or mental state at this time that suggests she is level or even. Her sudden calm after killing Silco isn't a patricide induced clarity. It is a breaking.

She is angry, she is grieving, she is ill and she is afraid. She feels that Vi cannot love her anymore because of who she is and she killed the only other person she had. So she lashes out. And in so-doing actually obliterates her peoples chance of independence.

Intent:

Now I have seen the argument made that it doesn't matter what her reasons or intent were. Because ultimately her actions served Zaun. Did they though?

Blowing up the building and killing six enforcers caused the bridge blockade Her attack on the bridge almost killed Caitlyn, which all personal character bias aside, if she had successfully caused the death of a council woman's daughter Piltover would have gone nuclear. She also almost killed Ekko successfully who was actually a champion for Zaunites. Her attack on the council opens the door for Ambessa and kicks off the events leading to Caitlyn's strike team and the occupation. The most obvious and one that should be taken with a grain of salt given the extenuating circumstances. But Jinx was a part of Silco's operations. Piltover's neglect and oppression may have allowed bad men to rise up and take control, but Silco was their chief. He flooded the lanes with Shimmer regardless of the harm and Jinx played a part in that.

SEASON 2

Alright, moving into season 2. This is where people were angry and feeling that the show was throwing away Jinx's revolutionary arc. But as I've stated it is my belief that is never where her story was going to begin with. So let's dig into some points I feel lend themselves to this point.

Aftermath of Jinx's attack:

What is she doing in the wake of her first strike? Leading battle planning sessions? Nope. Wandering the streets while Chem-Barons rip Zaun apart. Why? Because she wasn't firing the first strike. She was breaking down. And now she is all alone. Her adopted father gone, his organization failing, her sister lost to her.

Ventilation Chamber Battle:

Alright so I see this battle mentioned as well because Jinx and Sevika let The Grey loose in Piltover in retaliation. I wasn't sure if I should discuss this or not, since some people like to pretend Jinx never did this and I don't want to confuse them. But better to be thorough.

As I'm sure you know this is the battle when Vi & Caitlyn finally confront Jinx & Sevika down in the pipeworks of Zaun. They all engage in a massive and brutal brawl to some truly outstanding music, and in the end Sevika detonates a series of charges that send the Grey up into Piltover all over the city.

I have spoken AT LENGTH about the hyperbole and nonsense the fandom has engaged in when it comes to The Grey and Caitlyn. I can assure you I'm not going to magically assign it some ultra-lethal quality just because Jinx is now doing it.

"Jinx was acting in retaliation against their oppressors for Caitlyn's strike team poisoning Zaun's air!"-- You get the idea

The issue of course is that this was not some strategic retaliation in Jinx's rebellion. This was intended to be her suicide and end Vi as well. Jinx wants to die here.

Hard to lead a rebellion when you intend to die at your sisters hands. However I will give Jinx partial credit if that makes anyone feel better. She was at least retaliating against Piltover as well.

Becoming A Symbol:

Alright. This is where we get into Zaun trying to force her into this box as well. Let's do a very quick rundown of events leading up to the occupation of Zaun under Martial Law:

1. Caitlyn leaves Vi after the battle and becomes the commander 2. Caitlyn and Ambessa's forces hunt Jinx throughout Zaun, cannot locate her. Place Zaun under Martial Law until she is caught and try to get Zaunites to turn on her 3. Zaunites make Jinx their symbol of resistance. Their flag to rally behind. Even the spy Maddie says "we made them desperate for something to believe in".

And what has Jinx been doing the entire time?

Which by the way. AS. SHE. SHOULD. She finally found some fucking peace and happiness. But she was not in any fashion out throwing Molotovs and getting arrested. She did not become the symbol of the rebellion because she earned it. She became the symbol because she's the one they had when they need something to believe in. Even when she frees all those people from prison she only does so because she is trying to rescue Isha. And by the way the show is not subtle about what this means for her:

She and Isha are living happily-

When Sevika comes in angry and slamming things and demanding Jinx consider what Silco sacrificed (aside from Jinx's second family of course) Jinx starts glitching and yells.

2. Jinx tearfully admits to Silco's chair she doesn't want to mess up what she has with Isha

3. When Isha is taken and Jinx has no choice but to rejoin the fight, the show is quite clear about the tone it sets for Jinx.

Pop Quiz class, does it seem like they are implying its a good thing?

Side Note:

Jinx has too many barbs, comments, taunts and so on to name regarding her feelings for Piltover. I didn't include them because… duh? She hates Piltover and she hates Enforcers. Again. That is not the same as being a revolutionary. Not to mention at the least in the context of her talking shit to Vi for putting on the badge, it should be noted that all you usually have to do is go a few words in either direction or consider the actual context and her clever jabs at her sister lose some of their luster.

"I busted half of Zaun out of prison while you were passed out in the bottom of a mug" INITIATING TRANSLATION FROM JINX-SPEAK TO REALITY….. "While you were in a self-destructive spiral that was probably going to kill you and caused among other things by my actions as well, I was chilling with Isha during the entire occupation until she went full feral gremlin and got arrested. I freed the others while I was there to get her also"

And that isn't hating on Jinx by the way. But people like to use all her clever little comments to really sell this whole image of her character and justify screaming about her not leading the massacre of Piltover or something at the end so it seemed worth mentioning.

Conclusion

So. When it is all said and done, why even touch on this? Because I think people so stuck on wanting her to be a revolutionary for Zaun are missing the point. Sure her feelings were there, but the actions she took were never for Zaun's freedom. That isn't her story, just like it isn't Vi's. People watched this show expecting everyone to follow traditional heroic journeys. But not every character is meant to become the leader on the throne. Sometimes, they are the long suffering victim of a system that doesn't really care about them, and although they can fight for and defend their people, their greatest victory is getting to live for themselves and their loved ones in peace.

Think about "Silco's" final speech to Jinx: Break free from these labels and restrictions. These "prisons". Walk away from the cycle because otherwise it will. not. stop. Like most of you I'm sure, I wanted to see Jinx and Vi together as sisters at the end of the show. And I have seen SO. MANY. comments saying it's bullshit that Jinx had to go off on her own so Vi could have a happy ending but these people are seriously missing the point.

Jinx not only gave Vi a chance at a happy ending, but she set off to find her own. She was never going to find peace in Piltover where no matter the circumstances, there were very real people living with the aftermath of her crimes. And she was never going to escape the shadow of Silco returning to Zaun, either being held to account for her part in his crimes or expected to lead their people. And that is to say nothing of the memories of everything she'd lost haunting every corner of Zaun.

I understand if her story wasn't what you wanted. We all had our own preferences and ideas and theories for how things were going to go. But by trying to force Jinx's narrative into a certain box and being angry at the parts that don't fit, you miss out on the story we were given.

A tortured but loving young woman who reclaims her soul, and sets off into the unknown to find her peace. Fulfilling the dream of a bright and inquisitive little girl who dreamed of better days.

*** Yall Tumblr had a seizure right at the finish line and the formatting got all messed up and I wasn't really able to fix it completely. Sorry if this looks weird***

[bitchinbarzal]

Operation mom & dad | M Boldy

summary: jade is determined to get her mom and dad back together.

The roar of the crowd echoes through the Xcel as Matt takes the ice, his number bold on the back of his jersey. You watch from the stands, Jade perched on your lap, her tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Daddy’s the best, right, Mommy?” she asks, turning her bright green eyes up at you.

You smile, ruffling her soft brown curls. “Of course he is, baby.”

It’s always been like this. You and Matt—co-parenting effortlessly, supporting each other despite the past. Your friends tease that you’re just pretending to be broken up, that no exes should get along this well. But the truth is, you and Matt have a rhythm. A history. A love that never really faded, even if things didn’t work out the way you once planned.

But if there’s one person determined to change that, it’s your daughter.

Attempt #1: The Forgotten Jacket

It starts small. Too small to suspect anything at first.

One night, after dropping Jade off at Matt’s place, you get a call just as you’re pulling into your driveway.

“Mommy!” Jade’s voice is serious, like she’s on an important mission. “You forgot your jacket at Daddy’s!”

Your brows knit together. “Are you sure? I don’t think I—”

“You did,” she insists. “You have to come back. Right now.”

With a chuckle, you turn around and drive back. When you get there, Matt is standing in the doorway, holding his hoodie.

“She meant this,” he says, amused. “Pretty sure this has been in my closet since before she was born.”

Jade beams between you, looking way too proud of herself.

“You should keep it, Mommy,” she chirps. “It smells like Daddy.”

Your face heats, and Matt rubs the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Uh, thanks, J,” you mumble, clutching the hoodie to your chest as you leave.

It smells like cedar and something familiar. Like home.

Attempt #2: The ‘Oops, There’s Only One Bed’ Trick

On a weekend trip to Chicago for one of Matt’s away games, you and Jade stay in the same hotel.

Everything is fine—until you realize that your perfectly booked two-bed room has somehow turned into a single king-sized bed.

“The team told me they asked for two beds,” you tell the front desk, exasperated.

The receptionist frowns. “Your daughter told us you wanted one bed. I am so sorry we have nothing else available”

Your head snaps toward Jade, who grins, completely unrepentant.

“Jade—”

“It was worth a try,” she shrugs.

Matt arrives moments later, taking in the situation with a smirk. “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor.”

But when Jade starts fake crying—“We can all share! It’s a big bed!”—you both cave, lying stiffly on opposite sides.

Still, sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to Matt’s arm draped over your waist. And instead of moving away, you let yourself sink into it—just for a moment.

Attempt #3: The School Art Project

Parent-teacher night at Jade’s school is usually straightforward. You admire her work, chat with her teacher, and call it a night.

Except this time, her teacher greets you and Matt with a knowing smile.

“You have to see what Jade made,” she gushes, leading you to a table filled with colorful drawings.

There, in bright crayon strokes, is a picture of you, Matt, and Jade—holding hands, a big red heart above your heads. The words MY FAMILY are scrawled in crooked letters at the top.

You glance at Matt. He’s staring at the drawing, something unreadable in his expression.

“She talks about you two all the time,” the teacher says warmly. “How much she loves when you’re all together.”

Matt looks at you then, his blue eyes softer than you’ve seen in years.

And your heart stumbles.

Attempt #4: The “Oops, We Missed the Game” Move

One evening, as you’re supposed to take Jade to Matt’s game, she starts complaining of a “tummy ache.”

You fuss over her, canceling your plans, but by the time puck drop comes around, she’s suddenly perfectly fine.

“Jade…” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Were you really sick?”

She bats her lashes innocently. “I just thought Daddy would come check on us if we didn’t show up.”

You sigh, settling in to watch from the couch.

After the game you were tidying up when the door rings.

It’s Matt.

“You okay?” he asks, concern evident in his face “Saw you weren’t at the game.”

You exchange a glance with your daughter, who looks way too smug.

“We’re fine” you murmur.

Matt looks like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just ruffles Jade’s hair and stays for a while.

And you don’t mind. Not one bit.

The Breaking Point

It happened suddenly. A long shift at the hospital, a reckless driver on the road, and before you know it, you’re lying in a hospital bed instead of standing beside one.

You’re mostly fine—just a concussion, a few bruised ribs—but when you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see is Matt.

He’s sitting in the chair beside you, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. He looks exhausted, his usual steady composure cracked wide open. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times, and there’s a crease between his brows that only deepens when he notices you stirring.

“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

You try to smile, but your ribs protest at the movement. “Hey, Matty.”

He exhales sharply, his whole body seeming to uncoil as he leans forward, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he should.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmurs. “I got the call in the middle of practice, and I just—” He drags a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. “I thought— I don’t even know what I thought. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Your heart clenches. “I’m okay,” you reassure him softly. “Just a little banged up.”

But he doesn’t look comforted. If anything, his jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists.

“You shouldn’t have been alone” he says after a moment “I should’ve been there.”

His words make something ache deep inside you, something that’s been lingering for far too long.

“Matt…”

He finally reaches for your hand then, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is firm, steady, like he needs to feel you to believe you’re still here.

“I can’t do this anymore” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens. “Do what?”

“This” He gestures vaguely between you, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles. “Pretending like we’re just co-parents. Like we don’t still—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply before meeting your gaze “Like I don’t still love you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

“Matt…”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening. “No, just— just let me say this, okay? I thought we were doing the right thing, staying apart. I told myself that over and over again. But every time I see you, every time we’re together with Jade, it feels like I’m right back where I’m supposed to be. And tonight, when I thought—” He swallows hard. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to spend another second pretending like you’re not my home”

Tears sting your eyes. Because God, you know. You’ve always known.

Your life without Matt has never really been a life without him. He’s always been there, steady and sure, woven into your every day. And maybe you were both too stubborn or too scared to admit it before.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Matt reaches up to catch it with his thumb. His hand lingers, his palm warm against your skin.

You lean into the touch, exhaling shakily “I love you, too.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. And then he’s kissing you—soft at first, careful, like he’s afraid you might disappear. But when you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hoodie, it deepens into something more—something familiar, something new, something that feels like coming home.

A tiny gasp from the doorway makes you break apart, and you both turn to find Jade standing there, eyes wide with delight.

“Are you kissing?” she asks, her little hands pressed to her mouth.

You laugh breathlessly, swiping at your damp cheeks. “We are”

Jade lets out an excited squeal and bolts down the hall. “GRANDMA! GRANDPA! DADDY AND MOMMY ARE IN LOVE!”

Matt groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “She’s never gonna let us live that down”

You grin, threading your fingers through his hair. “Probably not”

He pulls back, brushing his nose against yours. “Guess that means we have to make it official, huh?”

Your heart swells.

“Yeah” you whisper. “I guess we do.”

And as he kisses you again,you know, without a doubt, that you’ve finally found your way back home.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOCK ME OUT

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: haunted by her ex’s cruel words, y/n wishes she could block herself out. but rafe sees her differently—like she hung the stars in the sky.

based on this ask !! thank you for this anon, apologies that it’s taken so long, but i hope it’s what you asked for and you enjoy it :) <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: appearance insecurities, angsty with a soft ending, soft!rafe, rafe thinking violent thoughts (nothing unusual😝), past emotionally/verbally abusive relationship (reader’s ex), crying, cursing, allusions to sex. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyes tracing the features she had long since memorised yet never quite accepted. The fluorescent light above cast harsh shadows, making every perceived flaw stand out even more—the uneven texture of her skin, the way her cheeks seemed too full in certain angles but too hollow in others, the faint blemishes she could never quite cover no matter how much makeup she wore. Her fingers ghosted over her jawline, then moved to her lips, hesitating as if debating whether they were too thin or too full.

She sighed, dropping her hand and looking away. It didn’t matter. It never did.

“Y/N?”

Rafe’s voice echoed from the hallway, warm and familiar. He must have noticed how long she had been in here. She took a breath and composed herself before stepping out, her lips pulling into a small, forced smile.

“Hey,” she said casually.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with that soft yet unreadable expression he sometimes had when he thought she wasn’t looking. His blue eyes flickered over her face, taking in every detail as if memorising it. She knew he was about to say something—probably a compliment, because he always did. And just like always, she prepared to ignore it.

“You look beautiful,” Rafe murmured, almost absentmindedly, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Y/N scoffed quietly, shaking her head as she crossed the room. “No, I don’t.”

Rafe frowned slightly, his brows drawing together in concern, but he didn’t argue. He never did. Instead, he just watched as she climbed into bed beside him, her body curling up instinctively, as if trying to take up less space. He noticed that too.

It had started small, the little deflections. The way she would dismiss any compliment he gave her with a wave of her hand or a disbelieving laugh. At first, he assumed she was just being humble, but the more time he spent with her, the more he realized it was something else.

Something deeper.

A wound that hadn’t healed.

Rafe didn’t push. He didn’t ask. But he noticed.

Like the way her smile always faltered for just a second when someone called her pretty, as if the word physically pained her. Or how she always changed the subject when he told her she was beautiful, shifting the conversation so quickly it was almost seamless. If he wasn’t paying such close attention, he might’ve missed it.

But he was always paying attention.

Y/N knew she should appreciate Rafe’s compliments, knew that he wasn’t just saying them to be nice. But she couldn’t make herself believe them. Not after everything.

Not after him.

Her ex’s voice still lingered in the back of her mind like a ghost, whispering cruel words she could never quite erase.

“You really think you’re all that? God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure it’s pathetic.”

“I don’t know why you even bother with makeup—it doesn’t help.”

“No one’s looking at you the way you think they are. You’re just… average.”

She had spent so much time believing those words, internalising them, letting them take root deep inside her until they became an unshakable truth. And now, even though he was gone, even though she had someone like Rafe in her life—someone who looked at her like she was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen—she still couldn’t silence that voice.

Rafe had never once made her feel anything less than wanted. He never criticised, never made offhanded comments that chipped away at her self-worth. But that didn’t mean she knew how to accept kindness when it was given to her.

She felt his fingers brush lightly against her arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“You tired?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

She nodded, grateful for the easy out. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Rafe didn’t question it. He just reached over and pulled the blanket up over her, as if shielding her from whatever weight she was carrying. And maybe in his own way, he was.

She turned onto her side, facing away from him, but she could still feel his gaze on her, feel the warmth of his presence beside her.

For a moment, she let herself pretend that it was enough.

—

The night had started out perfectly.

Dinner was casual, nothing extravagant—just the two of them at his place, sitting across from each other, laughing between bites of food. It had been easy. Light. Y/N had almost felt normal, like the weight of her insecurities wasn’t pressing so hard against her ribs.

Rafe had been extra touchy that evening—his fingers brushing hers when he handed her a glass of wine, his palm resting at the small of her back as they moved through the house. Small touches, each one sending a shiver down her spine.

And now, here they were.

Y/N lay beneath him, the world shrinking to just the two of them, just the warmth of his body and the way his lips moved against hers like he couldn’t get enough. His hands skimmed her sides, slow and teasing, as if memorising every inch of her.

The air in the room had thickened, charged with something electric.

She should’ve been lost in it.

But she wasn’t.

Because the moment his fingers hooked under the hem of her shirt, inching it up over her ribs, that voice came creeping back.

“You think he really wants to see you?”

“You think he won’t notice how bad you look from this angle?”

“God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure, it’s pathetic.”

She tensed.

Rafe noticed immediately.

His lips paused against her neck, and she felt his breath, felt the slight hesitation in his movements. “You okay?” he murmured, voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a nod, forcing herself to push through it. Don’t ruin this. Don’t overthink it. Just let him love you.

But then his hands moved again, slipping beneath the fabric, and panic surged through her like a tidal wave.

Suddenly, she wasn’t here anymore. She was back in that old apartment, standing under fluorescent lighting as her ex tilted his head and examined her with a critical gaze.

“Your stomach isn’t as flat as you think.”

“I mean, yeah, you look good from the right angle, but not always.”

“Don’t get mad. I’m just being honest.”

Her breath hitched. The room felt smaller. Her chest ached.

She didn’t even realise she was shaking until Rafe pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn’t place. “Talk to me, baby.”

But she couldn’t.

Because she was already spiralling.

She shoved at his chest lightly, needing space, needing air. And Rafe—sweet, perceptive Rafe—moved immediately, sitting back on his heels, giving her exactly what she needed. But even with the distance, she couldn’t breathe right.

“I—I can’t do this,” she choked out, her throat tightening. “I just—I don’t—”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt pathetic, completely unravelling in front of him over something so stupid.

But Rafe didn’t move, didn’t rush her. He just watched her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to piece together what had broken.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, her breaths coming faster. “I just—” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t feel good enough for you.”

The confession slipped out before she could stop it, and suddenly, the dam broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands, ashamed of how easily she was falling apart.

“Y/N…”

She felt the mattress dip as Rafe moved closer, but he didn’t touch her. He just waited.

Waited for her to speak.

Waited for her to let him in.

She sniffled, wiping at her tears, but more came. “I—I don’t get how you could look at me like you do,” she whispered. “I don’t get how you could actually—” She sucked in a shaky breath. “How you could actually want this.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed, confusion and pain flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a wet, bitter laugh. “I see myself, Rafe. I see what I look like from different angles. I know what people see.”

Rafe was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “You don’t know what I see.”

She swallowed hard. “I just—” Her voice trembled. “I worry that… that you’re not actually attracted to me. That you just think you are.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick.

And then, softly, carefully, Rafe asked, “Why do you think that?”

She exhaled shakily, dropping her gaze.

She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to open that box. But he deserved to know.

“My ex,” she finally whispered. “He… he made sure I knew what was wrong with me. All the time.”

Rafe went rigid.

She saw it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm, but she could see the fire behind his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and steady, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. “Tell me what he said to you.”

Her throat felt tight, but she forced the words out. “He told me I wasn’t as pretty as I thought. That my body wasn’t as nice as I thought. That I only looked good from certain angles.” Her voice cracked. “And I believed him.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, looking away, his hands gripping the sheets like he was barely holding himself together. She could see the anger simmering beneath his skin, the way he wanted to break something, to scream, to hurt the person who had done this to her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned back to her, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of something even stronger than rage.

Love.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I need you to listen to me.”

She swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And not just from certain angles. Always.”

She tried to look away, but he didn’t let her.

“You think I don’t notice the way you brush off my compliments? The way you never believe me when I tell you how fucking perfect you are?” His voice wavered slightly, but he kept going. “It kills me, Y/N. It kills me that someone made you feel like this. That someone convinced you that you weren’t enough.”

More tears welled in her eyes. “Rafe…”

“No.” His voice was raw now, his emotions spilling over. “You are everything to me. Everything. And I don’t just want you—I crave you. Every part of you. Every inch of you. I don’t care what angle, what lighting, what bullshit insecurity you think you have—I love all of it. Because it’s you.”

Her lip trembled. “But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You are enough. You are more than enough.”

She broke.

Sobs wracked her body, and Rafe pulled her into his arms, holding her like he would never let go. He whispered into her hair, his voice soothing and warm, telling her over and over again how perfect she was, how much he loved her, how much she meant to him.

And for the first time in a long time, she wanted to believe him.

Because when Rafe Cameron looked at her, he didn’t see flaws. He didn’t see imperfections.

He saw the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to see them too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a cute and emotional one :’) i had this written up before i went away but finally got to editing it, just spending eh next couple days editing and posting the requests in my drafts !!

i hope this is what you asked for anon !! and as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) don’t hesitate to request <3

[tearsaura]

In the woods, the monster awaits // Eris Vanserra x reader

Based on this comment by @astarionsdurge thank you so much for this prompt! I hope you like it.

picture is from pinterest: tanema3

Word count: 1.2k

The estate was much quieter nowadays. Visiting it served only two purposes: seeing my mother or following up on court business. It always felt cold, which is ironic since our power was quite the opposite.

My father’s office was the furthest away at the highest floor and even that didn’t seem far away enough from us. As I climbed up the stairs and entered his space a few moments later, the familiar smell of his cologne hit me and it made my skin crawl.

“We must check in with y/l/n. The magic on our borders is wearing of. There has been an increase on beasts in the woods and if they get any closer, they’ll feast on the village by noon and on us by the evening.” Beron said without looking up from his papers as I stepped closer to his desk.

Well hello to you too father!

Yes, I am doing alright thank you for asking!

Our army shrinks with every day that passes but you already knew that and you refuse to do anything about it! What will you do when there are none left, even for you?

How are you feeling? Any chance that you step down and free this court from its misery?

My father, the high lord of the autumn court, summoned me at dawn to complain, like he usually did. He did take me by surprise that he decided to do something about it instead of delegating it to someone else. Maybe the thoughts of being a meal for some beasts did worry him.

“Shall I meet up with him today?”

“No, I already scheduled to meet up and I want you to accompany me, I need to have a word with him first but after that it is going to be your problem.” He said, raising from his chair.

With other words, he wanted the people from the village to think that he does care about them. That’s what he usually does: Goes to the poorer villages occasionally, act as if he cares, promises them that he works something out to help them but never actually does it. He wordlessly walked out, his guards trailing after him. I sighed, counted to ten, and went after them.

The horse ride to the boarders went quietly thankfully. I tuned out my fathers talking and took in the lands. The autumn court was beautiful, especially the forest. We reached the said place at the border shortly, and nobody was there. I got off my horse and gave him something to eat before joining my father, who was already seething. It was astonishing, how short his patience ran.

“This is unacceptable. Where is the old man?” Beron complained as he dismounted his horse, walking further into the woods.

Please dear mother, let this man get lost in there and never come back.

“This is a forest, he probably needs some time to find us because it looks all, you know, the same.” I claimed, walking after him whilst keeping my distance.

“I am the high lord of the autumn court! I do not have the time or the nerve to wait on some old Witcher to find his way to the place I ordered him to get to on time. He’s a Witcher don’t they sense people?”

“We don’t. We only sense the magic, or well, the lack of it.” A feminine voice called and as I turned around, I was sure that reality had left me. The unknown woman came towards us, my father taking a few steps back as his guards stepped in front of him.

She nearly made me drop to my knees. There were no words on this world that would do right in describing how beautiful she was. No music could come close to the sound of her voice. Without thinking, I stepped closer to her.

The woman raised up her hands in surrender. “No need to draw weapons. I am not here to harm you, high lord. My father sends me: y/l/n, the old Witcher?” she said, a coy smile graced her red lips. Of course, I personally hadn’t seen her father but her signature light grey, almost white, eyes gave her away as a family member of the witches.

“Why didn’t he come himself? I specifically told him that he should come. One would think that the order of the High lord where to take-” “He went to another weak spot. Sadly, this area isn’t our only problem. It took me a while to find you because the magic is missing in multiple places.”

I swallowed. One leakage was bad, but manageable. Multiple where a bad sign. Something was wrong.

“So, what can we do about it?” I asked, her eyes now fixating on me. They looked just like the sky during autumns stormy afternoons. Very hard to look away from, pulling me deeper into this trance.

“You are?”

“Eris. Eris Vanserra.” She continued to look at me, her head tilting slightly. She had a mole right over her upper lip on the left side.

“My oldest son.” I hadn’t even realised that my father had stepped closer too. “He will take over this matter and you’ll correspond directly to him. Unfortunately, I must go. Court affairs.” He said, before he went to his horse, his guards trailing after him.

She waited for a few moments, watching my father and his guards leaving and as they became a small figure in the distance, her attention turned back to me.

“I feel sorry for lady autumn. It must be tiring to listen to this man for even a second, I fear.”

“You have no idea.” I replied and she gave me another smile. She had dimples.

“So, my father and I are working on resurrecting the old magic that was used. But it is many centuries old and all the tomes we have need to be translated first. We will work with lesser magic until we have it but that would only last days or weeks at most. For the time being I would stay here to make sure that everything is alright.” She said, stemming her hands on her hips as she observed.

She smelled divine. Oranges with a hint of vanilla. He wanted to wrap her scent around him for the rest of his life.

“The Forrest house isn’t far from here. You can stay there.” I blurted, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, that is quite all right I thought about bringing a tent-” “A tent? Absolutely not. You are saving your people with your work. The least I can do is make sure that you have an actual roof over your head.” I said, stepping closer to her. She bit her lip, as she looked up to me, the confidence from before replaced with sudden shyness.

“Thank you, Eris.”

Eris. That’s what did it. I suddenly felt the thin golden thread pulling me towards her and my breath hitched.

Mate.

Must protect her, must keep her safe.

I found my mate. I took everything in me not to blurt it right out.

“Of course.” I whispered, before I held out my arm to her hoping that she didn’t notice it trembling.

“I’ll bring you there.”

[killerzys]

Should probably post this on my venting account..oh well

[DO NOT ATTACK ANYONE THAT WAS MENTIONED]

Tw mentioning of cutting, say kill yourself, and F1zzyst4r

Please don't center me around this drama I'm not the one who needs the support Wenni is they have been a victim of F1zzyst4r for a year now I just want to simply explain.. how this has affected me.. but please show some support to Wenni and not me

More in the undercut

So there has been a lot on my mind been gone a few days so it feels a little bit more clearer

I do not want to meet the situation about me since I'm not the one who's being harassed Wenni has and I don't want to make the situation about me even though I am also being affected by it. Just not the way Wenni has been, that's why I have been scared to talk about how I'm feeling about Skittles.. and everything but uhh just because I don't want to make it about me I'm not the let's say main victim.. yes I have been harassed I don't know if was one of skittle's friends that told me this in my ask box but someone recently told me to kill myself and it threw me off

And for a while I felt forced to be friends with him (Skittles) I texted him before I blocked him that hey I felt forced to be your friend and it's making me uncomfortable.. I didn't say this part but the tracing also made me uncomfortable.. especially when it was clear that you copied someone else's design and is tracing someone else's art without credit or say oh yeah I make expired by this person inspiration, and now don't come attack me and say oh there's a few times that you didn't credit someone but as soon as someone say hey by the way maybe credit the person that gives you inspiration you @ them and I have I go back and edit pic or post and @ the person there is just sometimes where I get so excited that I forget but Skittles even after being called out and you're saying hey dude by the way maybe just give credit to the person that you take inspiration from Skittles is like erm actually they're tracing me!!

That's my point of view of how I see it and those other parts but I don't want to make this really long and boring to read

But I just mainly wanted to say how I've been infected by everything, after becoming friends with Skittles I thought they were kind and sweet they were to me but that's before I knew the full drama I did follow wenni on Pinterest for a while and seen little glimpse here and there last time I seen before I became friends with Skittles is that Wenni and Skittles were on good terms.. so I thought it was all right to be his friend, this whole friendship started because I made my old reference sheet of nighty, based off of on of wenni's old ref.. Skittles was like hey by the way maybe not copy me and I simply told them that I took inspiration from someone else that I didn't even know they were on the board, we became friends on Tumblr and talked, then I started getting targeted not targeted that's not the right word to say involved in drama that simply I was just watching from behind.. never had any attention to get involved with any of the drama but with my luck I somehow got into it because I was friends with Skittles.. I'm no longer friends with him and I feel free I feel safer now but I keep seeing the excuse of like his friends in my inbox "he made art for you and everything, he thought you guys were friends" just because you simply made art for me doesn't really mean anything I'm sorry? Like I make art for a lot of people doesn't mean I'm their friend I just think whatever OC or design I did was really neat and I wanted to draw it myself.. in the friend part I did see each other as friends but we never really communicated like we were friends.. we would talk to each other about the drama and I remember at some point I said whoever is tracing needs to own up to it now so this drama could be over and no one can get hurt or go through more mental health problems... But it seems that he didn't take that advice but oh well but other than talking about the drama and stuff we vented it to each other, there were a few funny moments but it's wasn't really friends? It was like that one buddy you see crossing the hall and you talk for a minute before going back to your class and then you don't see them for the rest of the year that's how it felt and before everything that happened I will admit I had a tad of a crush on Skittles but over time it started affecting me not in the greatest way... And I just lost all feelings when I got with my partner... And then at some point he would call me dear or something ? And sweetheart saying I'm sorry I think someone hacked my account acting all flirty with me which made me uncomfortable...

But besides that uhh he has now decided to text my mutuals or get his friends to do it I believe he's doing it because they are all anonymous and him or he got his friend to send something one of my mutuals inbox say hi by the way uhh river faked being friends with Skittles like a few times something something quite frankly I don't think you should be mutuals with them no more

Ok ok Skittles I see I see going to my mutuals telling them, that they should stop being friends with me because I stopped being friends with you because you're traced someone's art and copied many people's designs and when I tell you that I felt forced to be your friend and felt so uncomfortable and I unfollowed you which is a valid reason saying that I was uncomfortable and blocking you you're going to resort to going to my mutuals and basically harass them saying you should stop being friends with River, river is a bad friend you shouldn't be friends with them

Okay buddy like what? I've been trying to stay serious but the more I text this sentence the more I'm getting mad and the more I'm realizing the red flags that I should have realized from before... Honestly Skittles I hope you get help I hope you get therapy or something I'm not going to wish upon your death because honestly that's against what I believe which is nothing but like I don't believe in telling people they should kill themselves just because of certain actions I feel like they should get help now let's say if you were a pedophile now I would say kill yourself but does drama could have been resolved a long time ago if you just figured out your own art style who you are and stop copying someone to the point of copying that Wenni saying you have anger issues and trust issues ?

Wet Skittles I do wish that you get some therapy help mental help hell go to a mental asylum I don't care get help...

Now onto more stuff that like other things I've been thinking about

So basically going to my friends and harassing them

Having people go in my inbox harassing me saying like why did you stop being friends with Skittle kill yourself

It feels like you're using the fact that I used to have a crush on you against me and saying that we were friends because sometimes we made art for each other?

That's really it? Uh yeah I don't know this entire situation has just had me stressed about everything.. to the point where I'm having a hard time even drawing.. communicating with people talking and everything...it's really unbearable.. a few days ago I lost my streak .. because of this. The stress got so much that I took it out on myself I was almost 2-3 month clean..

[moeblob]

Nines: ... you make a solid case, Sixty.

[honig-dachs]

there it is

[crystalpallette]

I saw the pv for 별빛 세레나데 like three days after it went up, started this immediately, and then suffered for a month before finally finishing it today. better late than never right

[renai-fr]

Dragon-A-Day 2023- day 5, a Grand Exchange dragon

I drew Susie and Patches, playing poker!

(Whoo boy, this taught me that there's a reason it's a dragon a day, not multiple. Pain in the rear... I really wish I had had time to color, but I didn't want it to take another week. On to the next thing!)

[katiekatdragon27]

Did I ever mention that I ship these three as a polycule? No? Well, now you know.

Also, tis the grand return to my Western AU! It has gotten a ton of traction recently and when it was initially posted, so I might as well give the people what they want.

Progress pictures n some lore under cut:

Ok so here's the picture. When Bang first came into town, the first face he meets is Beep. Of course, being dehydrated, hungry, and in a giant mental fog, he thinks he's dead and assumes that Beep is some beautiful angel from Hevan. Beep is taken aback at first, but just decides to help him anyway.

Bang ends up staying with Beep and Bing when recovering, becoming insta-besties with Bing while slightly rizzing up Beep (for a lack of a better explanation), to which she reciprocates slightly. After he's well enough, Beep takes him into town to introduce him to her and Bing's other friends. There he meets Bo, Beep's best friend, and Boop, the bartender.

When Bang first meets Boop, he does some slight friendly flirting to him, to which Boop is incredibly flattered by. He won't admit to it tho, very much giving "it's not like I like you" energy. They often spend time together when Bang gets off sheriff duty, sharing drinks and having a gay ol' time.

Despite this, Bang does not neglect time to hang out with Beep either. He often helps out on the ranch when she's working and he's off duty. Beep actually teaches him a ton of things, such as cattle herding and maintaining farmland. Romantically working together if you will.

What Bang doesn't know is that Beep and Boop have been unofficially seeing each other for a while before this. They never really made their relationship status known, but everyone sorta knew they were a couple. However, both of them have been rizzed up by Bang, so when the two of them have an open discussion about it, they just stare at each other in disbelief, then decide to tell him together one night.

That is the night in the picture. After the confessions of course, but still that night. Bang was surprised to hear that Beep and Boop were together, but he was even more surprised that they both liked him too. They end the night admitting their crushes, and stuff and they all form a circle of love yippee the end.

I don't like picking sides for shipping lol. If I see it both ways, I'm making them poly, idc. Making peace with both sides as my sibling would say.

Anyways, have a lovely day^^