#or that It’s his fault she’s that way

[kirkwallguy]

extremely funny coming from writers whose characters return and play major roles in more than one game. yeah sorry guys we couldnt do anything interesting with the game because we had to protect our fans from the conflict we would write if we did <3

[muwapsturniolo]

Soft Plush N’Warm 🧸ྀི Matt Sturniolo

Plus-sized! reader

“Fuck-knew you’d love this- mm please baby”

✘ Softdom!matt, needy/whiny!matt, sub-ish!matt, thigh fucking, clitoral orgasm, spitting, needy sex, praising (lots of it).

Matt knew it was wrong to be doing what he was doing with his girlfriend fast asleep right next to him - but he couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault his girlfriend's dancing turned him on all night, the way her ass moved in that short dress doing nothing but making it hard for him to breathe. It wasn't his fault the girl kept touching him- her hands sprawling out against his chest, moving down his arms before wrapping him in a hug. It wasn't even sexual or flirty, she was just a touchy person- it was her love language.

He fixes his glasses as his eyes dart across his phone screen, twitter pulled up and multiple minute long porn videos on display. He scrolls through his bookmarks, grinding his bulge into his girlfriends thigh that's currently laying over his lap. He tries to keep his movements subtle, not wanting to wake the tired girl, but he can't help but press her thigh down harder. As he scrolls through the pornographic media, he comes across a specific video that catches his eye - A girl laying on top of a man who's fucking her, except he's not exactly fucking her, he's fucking her thighs. It was a mouth-watering sight, the way the girl's ass and thighs rippled with each thrust- he needed to experience it. His hand absentmindedly grips the sleeping girl's thigh harder, a soft grunt being heard due to the action. Matt's eyes stray away from the dimmed phone screen and focus on the girl next to him. Soft breaths escape her parted lips, the warm air hitting his shoulder.

His eyes trail down her sleeping form, stopping once he gets to her thighs. She was wearing an oversized shirt that still managed to be a bit too small and show off her bare ass and thighs- she loved sleeping commando and he wasn't complaining, he loved it.

Matt loved everything his girl did, he loved a lot of things about her. He loved her smile, the way she looked at him, her personality...But he also loved her body. Her body had to have been revenant of Demeter- so full and plump, beautiful and ready to feed anyone who was starving (aka Matt), she was a goddess, a true beauty to be worshipped and loved.

He brushes his hand along her thighs, the skin being so soft and plush. He allows his hand to trail toward the hem of her shirt, caressing the stomach pudge she has lovingly. Just feeling her body, just being so close to it, was enough to make Matt give in to his desires.

He locks his phone, setting it on his nightstand before sitting up and crawling over her. He ducks his head, nuzzling into her neck and planting soft but needy kisses. "Wake up baby, need you so bad," he whispers, his hands clenching at her love handles. The girl stirs in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open- her face settles into a sleepy pout as she looks up at Matt. "There's my pretty girl, m'sorry baby but I need you so bad." He begins to plant kisses all over her face, trying to sway her and make her give in. She melts into the kisses, but doesn't give in right away.

"M'tired..." Her words make Matt whimper, his boxer-clad bulge grinding into her bare cunt. " I know baby, but I need you, god I need you so bad- need your thighs." Although she's tired and would rather be asleep, she would be lying if she said his needy pleas didn't make her wet. She could feel the familiar tingle making its way through the walls of her cunt, she just couldn't be bothered to have full-blown sex at the moment. "Matt, don't wanna have sex tonight, m'too tired." Her closed fist lazily rubs at her eye as she speaks. Matt shakes his head, cooing softly at the sleepy girl,

"No no no baby, no sex tonight, just wan' use your thighs."

Her brows furrow in confusion, "my thighs?" Matt nods eagerly, already removing his boxers. He hisses softly as the air hits his throbbing cock, "Mhm, your thighs. Come on pretty girl, promise you don't have to do nothin. Just lay there yeah?" His neediness mixed with his hands fondling her body was enough for her to agree, not to mention her not having to move at all was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

She nods softly, letting Matt do whatever it is he wants to do with her. Matt grabs her legs that were currently wide open and lifts them up, bringing the limbs together and staring down at her bottom half. It was like looking at the finest of art, the way her ass molded into her thighs, her pussy being right on display for all to see. He spits directly onto the mound, the girl gasping softly feeling the soft pressure collide with her clit. He takes his free hand and rubs the spit into her pussy, mixing it with the juices that were already there. He takes his sticky hand and spreads the wetness along the inner part of her thighs. While hooking an arm around her legs and pressing them against his chest, he guides his aching cock between her thighs. Matt's forehead collides with the back of her calves, his lips parting as a groan escapes his mouth.

This felt better than he ever could have imagined.

Her thighs were so soft, so plush, and warm -they sucked him in just like her pussy would. He slowly begins to thrust, watching the way he disappears between the plump skin. It was an addicting sight and he found himself craving more and more like it was a drug.

The girl's tired eyes remain downward, watching the way his angry red tip pushes through her thighs and brushes against her clit. She whimpers at the stimulation, subconsciously clenching her thighs tighter. "Oh fuck-" Matt rasps, his thrust only becoming more greedy.

"Such a good girl f'me, letting me- shit- letting me use your thighs, your pretty thighs." He swats at the skin, drawing out a soft whimper from the girl below. He suddenly pushes her legs to her chest, allowing his cock to dip into aching pussy. Her eyes roll back at the brief relief, her hands clenching the sheets tightly. As quick as he pushes into her, he pulls out, his cock dripping with her sweet juices. He settles himself on top of her, leaning against her legs and pressing them further to her chest, resuming his ministrations on her thighs.

The lewd squelching caused by her juices caused him to thrust faster, her body bouncing up and down on the mattress. The bed creaks and shakes, surely waking up Nick and Chris, but neither of them cared.

She lets out a loud moan as her clit continues to be toyed with, the coil in her stomach building up. “Fuck- knew you’d love this- love your thighs so much, love how big they are, how they fan out when you sit on my lap-“ His praises are interrupted by his own moans, his eyes clenching shut behind the frames of his glasses.

“Love how you wrap them around my head when I’m eating you out for hours, so pretty f’me, suffocating me just how I like.” His praises only push her closer to her orgasm, just as they always did.

"Please, please please, m'close! so clos-shit!" Her hands fly to his biceps, her eyes clenching shut as her clit becomes overstimulated. Matt huffs like an overworked dog, his cheeks rosy as his thrusts become staggered.

He was close, so close to finishing, and he planned on cumming right in between her thighs and on her stomach.

"That's it -mmm fuck- come on baby, finish f'me"

"Gonna finish on your pretty thighs and stomach,''

"Gonna make you look like art"

"Love you s'much, love your whole being"

His worship and praise finally pushed her over the edge. Her eyes roll back as her whole body shakes, her back arching. Matt finds himself reaching his own orgasm as her thighs clench around him, spilling his hot seed all over her stomach and thighs, making a beautiful mess.

The couple lay there, basking in the afterglow of such a soft and intimate moment. Matt lowers her legs, peppering kisses all over her face, "You did so good for me pretty girl, thank you so much baby. Let me clean you up and you can go back to sleep ok?"

He waits for her confirmation before reaching into the nightstand and grabbing the pack of baby wipes, opening the small pack and starting to clean her up. He wipes at her stomach, trailing down her thighs, and ending at her glistening cunt. He throws the baby wipes away and lays back down, pulling the girl closer and draping one of her legs over his waist.

The girl falls asleep quickly, she was already tired, but the midnight rendezvous tired her out even more. Matt slowly begins to fall asleep, a small smile planted on his face as his hand rests on her thigh.

i got this idea as i was watching a gameplay of Detroit: become human. i hope my plus-sized baddies enjoy! ik as a plus size girl myself I'm obsessed with this!

[luveline]

jade!! can we please get something with junie’s mom and eddie? <3 missing them today

thank you for requesting! 1.3k

Eddie met you two weeks after you moved into the park, he’s pretty sure. Your baby ran out down the road because you didn’t know that all the trailers have the same bum lock, and she ended up on the Munson porch trying to get back home. 

He still remembers how she could barely talk. He had no idea how quickly babies explode with words. 

“Love you.” Junie smiles up at him, her waiting for a reciprocation all the more impressive. She’s just turned three, and Eddie would argue she doesn’t look it. She’s still a baby in his head. 

“I love you,” he says, leaning down to tap their noses together. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

Just a few short months ago she would’ve shouted “Hug!” and dove into his neck, or said nothing at all. He doesn’t see why that should change. 

“Babe, you don’t have to ask,” he says, wrapping his arms around her. 

She sighs in contentment, relaxing under his hand where he pulls it up and down her back. She’s getting bigger. Eddie can’t believe she’s already three. Where the hell does the time go? Days, weeks slip away. 

But at least they’re with you. God, he can’t believe they’re with you. 

“I’m feeling left out,” you say, laying on the floor of the trailer with your hands held over your chest. You’d been colouring with June a half hour ago, but she got bored fast and left you there. You’ve yet to get up. 

Eddie twists June in his lap so she can see you. He hugs her, and he presses his face to the top of her head, one eye open to see you and the other screwed closed. “You want us to come over?” he asks. 

You think about it. “No. I’m too tired to hug.” 

You’re always tired. Eddie knows that there’s a life he could give you one day where you don’t have to work. He’s not sure you’d let him, but he’d like to get promoted and move you out. He’d like to ask you properly to be his forever, to be permanent, and to live together as a family. Wayne’s telling him not to rush into things, but he really didn’t. You and Eddie were friends for half a year before he finally couldn’t take it anymore, and he doesn’t see that time as wasted, but he knows now that getting to kiss you is something he missed out on. 

Plus, being your boyfriend means he’s actually allowed to take care of you without dousing you in shame. You like being looked after. It’s why Eddie works a ten hour shift and comes straight home to you, so he can fold your laundry and you can get some rest. 

Every time you yawn, it’s a reminder for Eddie that he’s not making your life as easy as he could. (It’s not a healthy way to think about it. It’s not your fault or his that life is hard. But he thinks about it anyway.) 

Eddie gives June a kiss behind the ear and sets her down in the corner of the couch. He grins at her as he does, hoping for a detachment without tears, popping his head into his hand in mock nonchalance. “Babe, I’m gonna go hug your mom back to life. I’ll be right back. Cool?” 

“Cool.” 

Eddie pats her knee and she sits back to watch as he drops to the floor on his knees, crawling around crayons and gel pens and markers to your side. You laugh, flinching as his hand lands on your stomach, but he’s not there to tickle you. He holds your face in the other hand, really holds it, bending time. The mental snapshot he takes of you tired and lovely regardless can join an endless gallery. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says. 

“So are you.” 

“You want some help getting up?” he asks. 

You nod your affirmation. Eddie slides his hands under your arms, murmurs a too tender, “I got you,” as you sit up. He stands and pulls you with him, half drags your tired limbs to the couch where your girl is still sitting patiently. 

He puts you down. Kisses your cheek, throws a blanket across your knees. He picks Junie up to sit where she’d been in the corner and promptly settles with her on his thigh, the other arm open. 

“We’re napping?” Junie asks. 

“Would that be okay?” Eddie asks. “Mom’s tired.” 

“I’m not tired,” Junie says. 

“I know, baby, me neither. I was thinking we’d just lay here and hug mommy for a while, and then we’d have lunch.” 

“I don’t need a nap,” you say, though your eyes are heavy, darting to the empty place in his arms carved out especially for you. 

“Then just hug me,” Eddie whispers. Commanding, disbelieving, he knows you’ll be dozing in five minutes or less. All you need is a little light goading. 

You lay against his side. Junie wiggles to be on her front, chest to chest with Eddie as he sinks down. He kicks up his legs beside you, the three of you collapsing inward, his favourite girls in the world. 

There’s argument on if you can choose your family or not. Eddie doesn’t remember choosing you, just suddenly knowing you, and ever so slowly loving. He loves your face, your arms, the way you breathe. He loves how you turn into his chest and how you seem thrilled to be there, your hand coasting a loving line across him, fingers pressing into his stomach. It’s like you’re waving on his skin. He has no idea where you learned how to touch someone with that much love, but he leans down to kiss the skin just shy of your hairline so you know he feels it. 

Junie’s all little legs and sweetness as she yawns on his shoulder. “Mom, can I have some… some blanky?”

You pull it off your legs to cover hers. Eddie squares it up. Everyone covered, he lets his head tip back against the couch.

He’s not tired. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep. You fall asleep first in a slow series of exhales he knows well, that deepening, your fingers growing still against his t-shirt. 

Junie goes second. She squirms at first, not wanting to give in, but Eddie’s getting better at his dad-pats. He finds the space on her lower back, her off button ever since he’s known her, and he taps his hand against it until she’s breathing heavily against his neck. 

“Eddie?” she asks tiredly. 

“What, rockstar?” 

“Goodnight.” 

He scratches her back lightly. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Do you need me to take you to bed?” 

“No. We can sleep on you.” 

“Who should I sleep on?” he whispers. 

She shakes her head. Unhappy with his question, or maybe her nose is itchy. She falls asleep with her face pressed to his chest a few seconds later, leaving Eddie awake and unsure of what to do now. He trapped himself. 

He can’t find it in himself to mind, worried first about boredom, and then struck with a realisation. How could he ever be bored with you under his arm? 

He has time now to trace your nose, count your eyelashes, whatever he likes. 

“Love you,” he says, pressing his nose to your head. 

It takes a few seconds. “Love you,” you murmur. 

He rubs your arm until you’re sleeping again. It was selfish of him to wake you, but he’d wanted to hear it.

[bbokicidal]

"I Guess I Never Knew You." | OT8 [SKZ]

Genre : Angst [NO COMFORT]

Pairing : SKZ OT8 x GN!Reader

Summary : Based off of a request asking for reactions/how it would play out if the members were to cheat on you during your relationship. Each scenario is different - and these are rather short simply because I am trying to focus on Kinktober right now. Hopefully whoever requested this will be satisfied!

Warnings : CHEATING, lots of crying, angry responses from the boys, dismissal from the boys, reader gets angry in a few of them, yelling, etc. Very emotional.

These situations are all fictional and are not made to represent the boys. While I do write them as well as I can - based closely off of their personality and how I think they would realistically react - I honest to God do not think any of these men would be capable of cheating on their partner. Specifically Jeongin.

Bangchan - He cheats while you think he's busy with work

The excuses were so easy to make with you. 'Sorry, Angel. I'm staying late at the studio again because Jisung is sick.' 'I'm going in early to work on choreography with Min. See you.' 'Be back late, don't wait up.'

When eventually he just stopped giving you warnings, worry set in. His health was your top priority - but nothing of your own was his apparently. You'd walked into the studio with a small lunchbox full of snacks and water for him, assuming he was staying late again, only to see him with someone in his lap.

It's enough to make you tense, barely hearing his whispers and gently shushes of worry. He was sorry, he meant it, he swore, he didn't know you would find out --

It took every bone in your body to not hit him with that little metal lunchbox.

Lee Know - He cheats with an old friend from school

A girl you'd seen in his posts before. You'd found them kissing in a park while you were on your way to work, walking along the sidewalk only to stop and stare. A few girls had also paused to point and giggle, assuming the girl he was holding hands with was his girlfriend as he'd never done anything with you in public - no one knew that you were the one he should've been sucking face with.

Minho kisses the girl once more before they depart, pivoting on his heel only to fault. He stares at you from where he stands, your unmoving form timid and beginning to shake as the tears streaked down your face. He lifted a hand to reach out, watching as your body turned and - in the pouring rain - dropped your umbrella in your pursuit to get away.

He yelled, crying out for you to stop and let him explain. You didn't seem to listen, putting your feelings first and refusing to hear him out as he chased you down. He was fast - you were faster - darting across the road and narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle as you stumbled to the sidewalk before continuing to run to your apartment.

It really was a good thing you hadn't moved in with him when he'd asked you to.

Changbin - He cheats while away for a weekend

Seungmin had sat you down, told you everything. He'd shown you pictures he'd taken on his phone because he knew you were -- God, you were wonderful. And that wasn't his own feelings for you talking.

You'd been so good to Changbin. You made sure he ate three meals a day, made sure he had water, encouraged him to keep working on his music, his solos - choreography, etc. You'd done everything for him when he didn't have the energy to, visiting him during late nights and hugging him tight to tell him how wonderful he was and that he deserved the world.

Apparently, he grew a bit too cocky during their recent trip to Japan. Seungmin's pictures painted a portrait of your boyfriend with another woman in his lap, his face hidden by her hair as she sucked marks onto his skin that would disappear by the next morning.

You didn't confront him - didn't feed into it. You thanked Seungmin, left after patting his shoulder knowing it would likely be the last time you'd see him, and went home to move everything out of your shared apartment.

The next day, Changbin went on an indefinite hiatus.

Hyunjin - He cheats online

It started with the fucking instagram models.

Then he was messaging people, you find out. Contacting women he'd seen at fashion weeks or previous works with magazines. He'd asked them for photos, told them just how beautiful they were, and after looking through their profiles on your own, you'd felt like every ounce of self confidence you'd had was completely destroyed.

He'd only realized you'd found out when he came home from practice - no, 'practice.' - and found you sitting on the couch with tear stained cheeks and his phone in your hand. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind, so eager to meet up with the other woman in his contacts.

You'd packed all of his stuff, told him to get out, and he'd immediately started crying. You'd never seen him so devastated, kneeling at your feet to beg you forgiveness until you slapped him and shoved him back by the shoulders. He sat on the floor, stunned at your boldness to yell in his face that he was a liar - a cheater - and that he never loved you.

He'd sniffled, moving to get up and grab the bags you'd packed for him so he could leave. He stands in shame as he waits by your door while you seethe on the couch, silent, calling his new hookup to come get him. He couldn't call any of the members - they couldn't know about this. Not yet. The shame was eating him way.

Han - He cheats while on tour

He's in the USA when he texts you that he needs to break up. It's enough to break your heart, have you sobbing on the phone as you ask him over voice memo why he needs to break up with you now of all times. He was two weeks from being home in your arms - why now??

He'd chalked it up to just feeling distant, feeling as though you were neglecting him and his needs a bit while he was away.

Jeongin later reveals to you over a phone call that Jisung had hooked up with multiple women while they were gone over the months. He sounds broken as he relays the information to you, apologizing as you sob into the phone and saying how you never deserved any of it.

You were more angry than anything that Jisung had broken up with you in an attempt to cover up his own wrong-doings while also saying it was your fault.

Oh, but the twitter post you made the following day was enough to be near career-ruining for Jisung. And it was damn well enough to have him crawling back to you, blowing up your phone and begging you to delete the post. But it was already far too late for him by then.

Felix - He doesn't cheat on you because he's the most perfect sunshine angel baby on earth (I'm running out of ideas)

Seungmin - He cheats on you with someone you know

Your best friend - Well, ex-best friend - was the woman Seungmin had his eyes on. Not you.

He'd dated you to get closer to her, using you as a pawn in his little game until he was close enough. He would curl up next to you in the mornings, whispering soft goodbyes as he left for work before returning home late after he'd spent the evening in her bed.

You'd found out through another close friend who she had let the information slip to. Sleeping with an idol - definitely something to brag about.

He'd knocked on your door for nearly half an hour before you answered, threatening to hit him with a frying pan if he didn't leave. He was filled with confusion until you hissed out that you knew what he was doing. His eyes widened, puppy-like and scared after realizing you'd found out about his little scheme.

"Everyone is right about you! You're a fucking snake, Seungmin. You use people, you're full of fucking lies and bullshit! Do us all a favor and never date anyone again, you piece of dogshit!"

I.N - He cheats on you with a trainee

It's hard to stomach when you see it. He was so young when he entered the idol scene - How was he even doing it? Hooking up with a nineteen year old-- A girl who had just appeared at the JYPE building a few months ago.

She was set to debut in a new girl group - a pretty thing, tall and slim with long hair and a cutesy style. The ideal young woman for a girl group. And apparently he'd enjoyed her, too.

He isn't aware of your presence until you're stomping up behind him and shoving him by the shoulders, stumbling away to turn to you. He stops, breathing hitched and arm still around the girl's waist as she stands stunned.

You'd bit at him, yelling how he was full of shit when he'd said he'd never understand why 'I Like It' was a good song, how he'd never be able to imagine hooking up with people with no romantic intentions.

"You want to be with her then, right? You want to date her? If you really don't believe in just hooking up for fun, that must be the explanation."

He stutters, stumbling over his words as his eyes avert. "W-- ... Well..."

Your chest raised as you took in a breath, wanting to slap the man for his actions. Instead, you'd turned to leave, bumping into a very oblivious Chan on your way out. He'd stopped, asking what was wrong, before turning to peer over at Jeongin and the girl standing there, shame filling the two of them.

"Oh, mate..."

Permanent Tagist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersupriseee @possum-playground

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

Having a family with worst!Logan

You held your newborn in your arms as you glanced around the room with a full feeling in your heart. You never thought that was going to be your reality, you thought that your long-standing crush on the wolverine died with him. Back then you were just too young for him, still much younger than your now husband. The two of you are closer in age, though it didn’t really matter. You would’ve loved Logan in every universe. This Logan was rougher around the edges, he claimed he was no hero, but in your book he was. He swooped in loving you unconditionally, without even trying or thinking he changed for you. But he never felt more like himself in your arms, with your two-year-old toddler in his lap while he sat at the dinner table with his found family.

As much as Wade got on Logan's nerves, he had given him a whole lot. You'd found Wade after years of being alone, having a run in with X-Men, where you had to flee. Deadpool was working with them at the time and wound up quitting that time because he wanted to besties with you. You found him ridiculously annoying, but he found you annoying too, the perfect pair of friends who annoyed the shit out of each other. You'd gotten on Logan's nerves as well but you grew on him in a different way than Wade had. He couldn't help but fall in love with you, giving in to you even though you were much younger than him. Logan knew about your past with this universes' Logan but he didn't care. After all the time you've had together, he knew your feeling for him were genuine.

Logan never thought he would have one kid, let alone three, four if you counted Wade. Though Laura was an adult now, she stayed at the flat once in a while to help out with your son, James. She was staying with you again when you gave birth to Anna. She was an amazing big sister, bonding with her father and you. Getting the family she had always wanted, even if it had taken awhile. Laura knew it wasn't because no one wanted to love her, they just didn't know where she was. Logan tried his best with her, having difficulty trying to be a good guy for her. Both you and Laura held him to a high standard, something you'd assume James would do to. Because even with Logan's faults, you could tell he was a good man from the second you met him.

Laura could tell the same thing, even when she was a little girl. Even though his grumpy, dickhead facade he cared deeply about others. It was funny, it was like more you frustrated or drove him crazy, the more he cared about you. Laura was wildly impulsive, something that Logan has had to bail her out of several times. He'd always show up with a stone-walled face, angry as shit, deadly silent before getting back to the house. Logan would ask her to explain, hearing her out before saying his peace.

With you it was different, the two of you bickered so much when you first met. But it was only because you wanted to get close with him, and he wanted to push you far far away. Logan already knew the risk of you having feelings for him if you had feelings for a different version of him. Your feelings for the worst Logan couldn't match the crush you had on the previous. Sure you were in love with him back then, but you couldn't have him. He didn't want you. This Logan did, he let you know how he felt even when he didn't want to. Logan only acted like he didn't want you even though he was yearning. Dreaming about you and thinking about you all the time. To a point that he could no longer resist you, giving in and loving you with all of him.

You gave him everything back, the two of you getting married and getting pregnant. Logan settling down and getting a job at the local lumber factory. Sometimes Logan didn't feel like the life he was living was real. But then you would touch him, seeing his ring on your finger, or when his son would speak to him, now the newest reminder in the form of his youngest daughter. He remembered his Rogue, a girl he'd protect over anything, naming his daughter after her. You were the one naming their son, James.

Logan held your toddler in his arms (instead of dogpool 😭), the boy playing his little action figures of the x-men. You gazed at your son, with the hair brown hair that stuck up, his hair almost mocking his fathers. Your daughter was nestled up to your chest, a binky in your mouth a small little furrow in her brow that reminded you of Logan's. You had a baby blanket made by Wade that she was wrapped in, her fresh baby smell filled your senses, comforting you. You've let others hold her for a little bit but your attached to her, having a c-section this time around. She was in the nicu for a short time, and you were feeling some postpartum depression after you got home. Being in an extreme amount of pain along with having a newborn and a toddler.

Your marriage had definitely been tested, Logan getting frustrated but coming through for you. Holding you through the pain and the fights the two of you had. It's been about a couple months, Anna seemed to grow every single day. You loved seeing your husband holding her, she was so tiny in his big arms. But she already looked so much like him, it warmed your heart. Logan was such a good father, his super hearing would aide him in taking care of the kids at night. His insomnia perfect for fatherhood and for you, taking care of you and then going to work in the morning. He worked so hard for your father, pushing himself and worrying himself silly.

Eventually forcing him to go to couple's therapy with you. The two of you growing closer as you opened up about things you usually wouldn't. Logan telling you more about his past world and everything that he'd been through. Why he felt unworthy of your love and having a family together. It wasn't that he didn't love you completely, because he was deathly in love with you. But you didn't want it to fade because he doesn't work on his mental health. Something you always struggle with but has progressively gotten better as you've aged. He was reluctant at first, because he thought therapy meant it was too late. But you said it doesn't have to get bad to work on it, there's no reason for your relationship to not get stronger. He usually didn't win arguments with you, because a lot of the time you were right.

And it was the reason why you were feeling so good after the last couple hard months. Coming out on the other side with a warm heart, feeling safe in your husbands' arms, feeling fulfilled with your little baby girl in your arms. Your family around you, enjoying each other's company. That night when everyone left, eventually you got the kiddos in the bath, and getting ready for bed. Tucking James into his room and finally putting Anna in her nursey at four months old. You and Logan still had to get up at night, but it was slowly getting better, as she grew bigger.

You finally stumbled into Logan's awaiting arms, tucking your head into his neck. His hands rubbing up and down your back, as you inhaled his familiar scent, making you melt into your husband's arms. Logan held you close, cradling your head with his other hand, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. Your hands came to his face, coming to either side of his face to connect your lips in a soft, messy kiss. Logan hummed into your lips, pulling you in closer by your hips, as his lips slowly moved with yours.

"Why don't you go take a shower?" Logan suggested, as you sighed, kissing him once again.

"Don't wanna let you go."

"I'll show ya a good time after how about that?" Logan teased, his hand coming to pat at your butt.

"You better." You rose your eyebrows, with a little smile on your face as you pointed at his chest before hooking your finger into his shirt and pulling him to your lips in puckered kiss, making you giggle.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

note: these haven't edited tonight, i'm a writing roll so i'm just trying to write write write lmao

[pitchsidestories]

all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!”, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.  

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bitter

Azriel x Reader - One Shot - Angst

Elain orders a couple shots. Azriel’s ex serves her.

“Now I’m sick in the head and it’s not even my fault”

She laughs as she approaches the bar. Lovely, beautiful, kind. Gods, she smells like honey and roses too. She even says “please” as she orders two shots of Patron.

I’m almost surprised, Patron for such a flowery thing. The most girls like her typically order are Lemon Drops. A sugar sweet rim with a bit of sour beneath.

I’m sure he encouraged her. Tequila, his drink of choice for the ladies. The clothes fall off easier that way.

I’d know.

Four years, four years I’d worked here and never gone home with a customer.

Until the Shadowsinger.

He had those sad brooding eyes that you can’t help but want to fix. Hazel irises that seeped into the marrow of your bones like a cancer, seeking out the guarded depths of the soul.

“He’s been gone for nearly fifty years now.” He’d say as he threw back another two finger pour of whiskey - neat.

“The court isn’t the same without him. Even from a business standpoint, our imports are lacking. Which is fine, but it’s a testament to the effect the High Lord has on this court.” I’d reply as I poured him another.

“Yeah…..” he’d trail off. My heart clenched at the emotion disguised by a stoic facade, the slight feathering of his jaw before throwing back the next shot.

I’d take care of a few other patrons, returning back to the Shadowsinger with another round from the occasional guest who’d send him a shot. Despite the “Illyrian bastard” reputation he blasted, he’s revered in Velaris, he fares quite well in the bedroom. What’s the classic phrase? Tall, dark, and handsome? Yeah, he’s got all that. That and a tragic backstory, a perfectly symmetrical face, and the highly gossiped about wingspan.

Females and males alike line up for a chance to have those scarred hands wrapped around their throat. A chance to win his heart through sexual prowess and witty one liners.

I didn’t even want him. Perhaps that’s what caught his eye. A customer who tipped well? Of course he was that. I gave him a free shot once for being patient while an influx of customers waved dollar bills at me desperate for their next shot in advance of the rest of the queue.

The nights that he sat at the bar extended later and later until it became routine for him to pop in, take a seat, and shut the place down- all from the shroud of wispy shadows.

When was the first time he fucked me in the alley? The first night he walked me home? The first night my cat curled up behind him as my head rested in the crook of his arm?

“It’s not serious.” I told myself as I came to depend on him like heroin. He sure as shit didn’t make it feel that way.

There were plans. Plans for what we’d do together when things settled down.

Rosehall was beautiful in the spring but a winter wonderland in December. Even the Illyrian Steppes had lovely secrets if you knew where to look. He couldn’t wait to cradle me in his arms as those membranous wings took flight to all the wonders he’d share with me.

There was the attack on Velaris. My apartment building was wrecked. He never came to check in.

Then the war came and I understood.

I was certain he was busy.

But I didn’t see him again.

Until tonight.

And here she is. Warm and lovely, she tipped well before walking back to the table with those two shots of Patron. I told her they were on the house.

I want to hate her. I want to loathe him. It would make me feel better, right?

But being bitter leaves the soul weathered, so I pour another shot, serve the next customer, cash out, and saunter home.

And if a stray shadow lurks in the dark as I wander, that’s not my business anymore.

—————————————-

Tags:

ACOTAR General: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @ahaha0246

[quadrantadvisor]

DPxDC Danny/Jason Soulmates AU WIP

-

Jason's timer read 044389:21:08, when the display suddenly went dark. 44,389 hours. Five years, 24 days, 13 hours, 21 minutes, and 8 seconds until he was fated to meet his soulmate.

Or not. Because the time stopped.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He did his research, and with the resources at his disposal (namely, a batcomputer,) he knew for a fact that there should be no way to defy the fate of a timer. People had tried. Avoidance, isolation, putting a hit out on your own suspected soulmate. Nothing worked. Trying to delay the inevitable put you on the path to meet it. Sure, there were people who lamented the unfairness of their own situation, who were devastated they never got time with their soulmate, famous deaths on opposite sides of a battle, etc. But soulmates always, always met eachother, face to face.

Not him, though. His soulmate was dead. Five years early.

Bruce didn’t get it. Dick wouldn’t talk about it. Alfred only looked at him with pity in his eyes.

Jason wasn’t sad that he was the only person on the planet who’d never meet his soulmate. He was fucking angry, because it wasn’t fucking fair. It was another person in his life who was supposed to care about him that he’d never get to have.

So when he found out he had a mom, somewhere out there, who he’d never had the chance to meet… he had to go. How could he not?

-

It was Sam who noticed, when it happened. Danny had just finished a stupid fight with Boxy, and he, Sam, and Tucker were finally ready to call it a night. Danny de-transformed and grinned, shaking the thermos proudly. “Gonna get these guys back into the Ghost Zone,” he said, when suddenly-

“Danny!” Sam yelped, and snatched at his arm.

Danny stumbled, nearly dropping his precious cargo. “Whoa, Sam, what-?’ he stopped, looking as she turned over his arm, baring his wrist.

His timer was dark, like people who’s soulmates were dead. The numbers still showed, faintly, but they were stationary. The countdown had stopped.

Ice spread through Danny’s veins, like the cold that rushed through him when he went ghost, but worse, so much worse.

Danny’s ghost form didn’t have a timer, which honestly freaked him out, but as a human it had always behaved completely normally. When he turned back, it would be there, the time having elapsed just the way it was supposed to. It had been so reassuring. He was alive. He’d make it at least five more years, and be able to meet his soulmate, who would hopefully be able to accept him the way he was. He wanted that so badly. He wanted someone beyond his friends to talk to, to know him as a person and a ghost. He wanted to not be afraid anymore.

He’d just passed the five year mark, not that long ago. He’d been so excited to be that much closer to someone so important.

And now something was horribly wrong.

“Dude, that’s jacked up,” Tucker said, noticing the problem with wide eyes.

“Did anything happen today?” Sam asked, her expression hardened with determination. “Did you notice anything weird while you were transformed?”

Danny shook his head. “No, no it- it was running while we were at school, and we’ve been fighting ghosts since then. I don’t know when it would’ve…” Danny could barely make himself speak. “Is it my fault?” he said, almost to himself. “Did I spend too much time as a ghost and it just-”

Sam gripped at his hand. “No, Danny, it isn’t your fault. Whatever the problem is, we’re going to figure it out, okay?”

“Yeah man,” Tucker added, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, maybe your parents can actually help this time? Weird magic science is kinda their thing, right?”

Sam looked less sure, but nodded all the same. “You’re going to meet your soulmate. Okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said, quiet, looking down at the stopped numbers on his wrist.

-

Edit: Added a readmore

[wlwmedarda]

I'm honestly just looking to rant and this might be long depending on how fast I get irritated the more I type so if this isn't coherent or well written I apologize in advance. Since it looks like Ambessa will take on a more antagonistic role in arcane season two, I would like to unpack the fandom's antiblackness that you guys are either blind to or aware and too pussy to call it out as my gut is telling me it's gonna increase and if no one is gonna start the difficult conversation then I sure as hell will.

Sevika:

Mel:

Starting off strong with the definition of "you guys want complex female characters but can't even handle her". Mel Medarda is in quite the predicament seeing how she's morally grey, a black woman, AND "gets in the way" of a mlm ship so she was kinda screwed from the start. A cunning politician disowned for her pacifism who acts as a sort of bridge to Noxus' slow introduction, and is THE ONLY CHARACTER IN THE SEASON 1 MAIN CAST SPECIFICALLY CREATED FOR THE SHOW. She's treated like satan incarnate or a Jezebel (highly suggest looking into that if you don't know what that is), GOOD character analysis is rare, and when she is talked about positively, it's so often chalked up to appearances that I'd rather yall not talk about her at all. Oh you love Mel? Then can we talk about her relationship with her mother? Unpack her dynamic with Jayce? Maybe more fanworks centered around her? I've seen yall's fake asses dropping the shittiest fucking takes about her only to turn around and gush over how pretty she is, and yall think you're slick about it and you're not. I would say I prefer the ones who are loud and proud about their hatred but that'd be a lie, they're two cheeks on the same ass; annoying and couldn't give a decent break down of her character if a gun was pointed at they head even she's perfect to dissect. I could talk about her more but we'd be here all day and so many black women even from outside the fanbase have already talked about yall so there's no need for me to add on 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️.

Quick question, have you guys ever tried to talk about her in a non sexual way? Yes, Sevika is undeniably sexy and you could argue that true stans of hers talk about her outside of horny time, but a good half of the fandom is a different story. In a similar case to Mel's, deep dives into her character are rare to find which is crazy when she acts as Zaun's own "kingmaker". She's loyal to her city and the cause, never to a specific person and will not hesitate to betray you. She could be your right hand man one day, and the next she might find a better kingpin to follow and stab you in the back like it all meant nothing. "Were you tempted?" "Not for a worm like him". Simple and subtle and probably my favorite Sevika scene; she comes to realize Silco is no longer the best leader for Zaun, but he's as good as it gets for now and so she sticks by him. I remember a YouTube comment breaking down how she's essentially the quintessential Zaun: a brute warrior molded by her environment, who defied Vander's peaceful ways and embraced Silco's cruelty. Her mindset and goal is interesting and you'd think it'd result in some fascinating meta or exploration of her upbringing when we got a hint that she potentially has some daddy issues right? Obviously, but what do we get instead? White sapphics treating her like nothing more than a sexual object. How delightful!

Ekko:

This might partially be Riot's fault because — and I hate to sound like a league lore nerd — Ekko is quite underdeveloped compared to the richer origins of his former pre arcane self, but I'm gonna hold off on that till the season finale to see how they handle him. Anyways, at this point the fandom clearly sees him as Jinx's trophy husband. When you talk about him, she is brought into the convo 90% of the time. That's exactly why I prefer black timebomb shippers over the nonblack ones because I trust they actually love Ekko as a character on his own. Even though I have my complaints regarding how's been written so far, I still know he's too good to be reduced to Jinx's loverboy. He fights and cares for his city, the only character that you can confidently say is pure of heart, and is the revolutionary leader Zaun really needs. He's just as smart as Jinx too, he is literally going to create TIME TRAVEL. Why does no one wanna talk about that? Can we be excited for his character development and arc not just for the timebomb scenes you'll get out of it?

Ambessa:

Can't even deny this woman is awful but her presence on screen enthralled me after a couple of rewatches and I also love bad mothers in media so I've settled on a love/hate relationship. Yes, she's definitely gonna have some influence on Caitlyn, which makes sense since she has now lost her mother; she's vulnerable and as we have seen, naive. She's practically free real estate for Ambessa. My recent worry though has been how the fandom seems to be willing to put all of Caitlyn's actions on her as if Cait isn't a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. Of course being grown doesn't mean you're immune to manipulation, but I've seen some Silco and Jinx comparisons and it is NOT the same. Mind you we haven't even seen the first three episodes; we don't know how far Ambessa's manipulation is going to go and we can't really tell what the dynamic is gonna be like based off of clips and trailers that are likely shown out of context on purpose to throw people off. I'll never defend her actions, hell I'll join in on the lashings, but my black ass is also not gonna sit here and let yall talk about her weirdly or pin all of this on her.

Some might say I'm overthinking this, but I've been here since November 2021 and have sat back and observed for 2 years. You don't have to write deep, philosophical conversations 24/7, I'm sure it's not all in bad faith and I won't act like I don't thirst over Sevika or marvel at Mel's beauty. I'm not saying you have to like these characters and that you're racist if you don't. My frustration comes from the lack of nuanced conversations and hypocritical opinions surrounding black characters in this show. When you try to say something about this, you're hit with excuses; it reminds me of how man obsessed fujoshis act when they're questioned for not giving two fucks about female characters. They're either reduced to one character trait, only admired for their looks, or only discussed when it's about the white character they're connected to. Do NOT under ANY circumstance be black and morally ambiguous, you WILL be held to higher moral standards than everyone's wittle blorbos who can do wrong and are defended from all sides when you dare to take the rose colored stan glasses off and criticize them. What's really ridiculous is you hear the "complex characters" bullshit every two to three business days and some of you have the nerve to boast about this series being diverse while simultaneously ignoring the complexities in the characters of color. This is the main reason I took a step back and with season two around the corner I thought "Hey, maybe it'll be better this time!" and it was a mistake. Good to know yall still have an underlying racism problem you don't wanna address but with some extra classism thrown in. "What will we do once Arcane ends?" hopefully get a job, touch some grass, and reflect. Lord knows yall need it. The faster yall sizzle out the better. I'm done that's all I have to say lol goodnight 👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽.

[bluejayscrying]

Some Batfam as Private school kids (from someone who attends a very religious private school)!!

(Perhaps a No Capes AU??)

Bruce Wayne: He's a Part of the PTA, drives an incredibly expensive car at the kiss-and-drop, and almost all of the parents seem to know him some way or other. Is he helpful? God no, but he helps fund school events and wears the most ridiculously tight cashmere sweaters while handing out cookies at bake sales.

Dick: You know that senior everyone knows and loves? thats him. He is a part of the Gymnastics Club, and also in the Student Council. he dabbles in some other clubs too (Track and Field etc.) and the trophy case in the hall is basically all him. Yes, he'll help you to class, you're like 12 ,but he can't confirm that he won't get distracted and accidentally sign you up to seven co-curriculars while hes at it. the teachers hate him, (or do they?)

Jason: Plays soccer (basketball? Who knows) but he's kinda a loner. Actually, he tries to be a loner but it kinda ruins his sullen and emo vibe when Dick and his other siblings won't leave him alone! He disappeared a few years ago and straight up didn't come to school for ages- came back looking like a totally new person. Rumour has it he got sent to military school but there are also some more sinister whispers going around...No, he's not going to tutor you, but it's not like it's his fault if you just happen to sit near him while he reads over your English work out loud.

Tim Drake: Everyone thinks he's a dealer. I mean its never been confirmed but come on there is no way he looks that tired and red-eyes from just his awful sleep schedule, right? He's good at school, and if your quick enough you can probably catch him outside of school on his skateboard if you need a hand with solving something. For two dollars, a pack of strawberry gum and a $10 Starbucks Gift card he can find the most insane shit on that guy who chucked your homework in your toilet last week.

Cassandra: She's cool as shit. She probably won't go fighting people for you, but she might slip in and give you an opportunity a to leave the situation, and if she glares them into submission that's no one's business but hers. Captain of the Martial Arts Club, you might be able to find her in the gym before school, talking to Stephanie- the cheer captain about some family gossip.

[lovelookspretty]

lies for lunch

rafe cameron x reader

— in which y/n returns to her hometown, the outer banks, to work as ward cameron’s assistant at cameron development, but living under his roof for the summer leads to unexpected tension with his son, rafe.

warnings: animosity, rafes daddy issues, safe !!

authors note: for the sake of the story i need y/n or you or whatever to have a person of familiarity whos hung back in obx to act like you’ve known each other for years, SO U HAVE A FICTIONAL BROTHER 😭

for the past ten months, you’ve been working at cameron development, helping ward negotiate deals and obtain permits. it’s been almost like being his assistant through everything. what started as an internship turned into a full-time job with actual pay after all this time.

they were right—hard work and determination can really pay off. you just didn’t expect to get so lucky with how quickly things moved. after a series of private meetings where ward discussed traveling back to north carolina to work in his hometown, he suggested you come along.

the relationship isn’t weird or inappropriate. you’re one of the few employees ward genuinely appreciates, which is more than he can say about the burnouts that float through the company. since you’re from the outer banks yourself, ward thinks it makes sense to bring you along to continue working for him and the company for as long as possible.

but anyway, you’re absolutely thrilled to be back in the outer banks. it’s more than just a job opportunity—it’s a chance to reconnect with everything familiar, everything that’s been tugging at your heart since you left.

the occasional visits have been fine, enough to keep the homesickness at bay for a while, but that constant, quiet longing for the place you grew up never really goes away. but now? now you’re staying in obx for the summer. no more fleeting weekends, no more rushed goodbyes. you’ll have time to breathe, to soak it all in. to be home.

the airport air is still fresh in your lungs when you slide into the backseat of the car, your bags dumped beside you. before the door even clicks shut, your fingers are already scrolling through your contacts. there’s only one person you want to talk to right now—your brother.

“hey,” you say, stretching out the word, a grin tugging at your lips as you hear the familiar click of him picking up.

“hey,” comes his easy, laid-back reply, his voice filling the small space around you like it always does. like home. “did you land?”

you bounce slightly in your seat as the car hits a bump, your grip tightening on your phone for a second. “yeah,” you confirm, digging through your bag absentmindedly. “i’m about twenty minutes from figure 8, so i’ll be there around noon. are mom and dad home?”

there’s a slight pause on his end, the sound of him shifting around, probably sprawling lazily on the couch back home. “nah, they’re not,” he finally says. “i swung by to check, but i guess mom’s out at lunch with her friends, and dad’s working today.”

you let out an involuntary groan, the disappointment settling in your chest. of course, it would work out like this. “this is what i get for trying to surprise them.”

his voice comes back, laced with mild amusement. “it’s your fault for not announcing you’re coming a day earlier.”

he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. instead, you plow forward. “look, can you at least call mom and ask if she can be home soon? ward wants me to head straight to him as soon as i land, but i really wanna stop by as soon as i can. i can’t be there later than two.”

on the other end, you can almost hear the exaggerated sigh that you know is coming. the kind that’s loaded with all the typical dramatics. he’s probably rolling his eyes too, even though you can’t see him. “yeah, yeah, whatever,” he mutters, clearly unable to resist playing up his irritation. “i’ll take care of it. just text me when you’re on your way. still can’t believe you’re working for wc.”

with that, the call ends abruptly, and you pull the phone away from your ear, blinking down at the screen in mild confusion. wc? who calls him wc? you furrow your brow, lips tugging into a slight frown as you shoot off a quick text to your brother.

‘ 1st, nobody calls him wc. and 2nd, what??? ’

your phone buzzes again. his reply is as cryptic as ever.

‘ just a coincidence that in ny u ended up working for someone from obx still. don’t u remember him growing up? ’

you stare at the message, trying to piece together what he’s talking about, until another text follows almost immediately.

‘ he has like 3 kids. rafe, sarah, wheezie. i saw rafe down at the pier a few weeks ago. we used to see them at parties when we were younger. ’

rafe? sarah? wheezie? none of those names ring a bell. you rack your brain, searching for some kind of recognition, but you come up empty. a soft laugh escapes you as you quickly type back, ‘idk who that is lmao sorry’ and lock your phone, leaning back in the seat with a sigh.

ward cameron has three kids. it’s a strange thing to realize, that the man you’ve been working for these past couple of years has an entire family you’ve never heard of. but then again, work was always work. personal details were rarely exchanged unless necessary. and now, you can’t help but think—would you meet them? would they be anything like ward?

your brother mentioned seeing one of them recently, so you can assume at least one of ward’s children still live here. you wonder if the rest do too.

your thoughts wander as the car turns down another road, bringing you closer to the heart of figure 8. it’s been a long time since you’ve been back here, long enough for some of the details to feel fuzzy, but the feeling of the place—that never changes. the salty air, the warmth of the sun filtering through the car windows, the sense of familiarity that sits low in your chest, almost like relief.

you try to imagine what the next few months will be like. working for ward in the outer banks is worlds apart from working for him in new york. for one, the pace is different—slower, more laid-back. and for another, you won’t be disappearing into a faceless crowd when the workday ends. you’ll be here, surrounded by people who might actually know your name. or at least remember your face.

the car slows down, the gravel beneath the tires crunching softly as you near the cameron estate.

“thank you!” you call out, waving as the driver pulls away, leaving you standing on the driveway with your bags at your feet. for a moment, you just stand there, taking it all in. the cameron house looms in front of you.

you bend down, grabbing the straps of your bags and hauling them up, careful not to drag them across the grass. even though this isn’t your home, there’s an odd comfort in the way it feels.

you’ve been here before—well, not here exactly, but close enough. working summer jobs in figure 8 as a teenager had given you a glimpse of this world. a world where you were always on the outside, always temporary. back then, you were just a girl from the cut, doing what you had to do to get by.

no one looked at you twice. but now? now you’re here for something more. wanted, even.

the thought of it makes your stomach twist with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. you adjust the weight of your bags on your shoulder and step up to the door, knocking firmly before dropping your things to the floor with a soft thud.

a small sigh of relief escapes your lips as you straighten up, rolling your shoulders to shake off the stiffness from the journey. you’ve been lugging these bags around for hours, and your arms are starting to feel like lead.

as you wait, you take a moment to fix your hair, fingers smoothing back stray strands that have fallen into your face. it’s only then that you hear a rustle in the bushes to your left. your heart skips a beat, and you freeze, mid-motion, your eyes flicking toward the sound. you stretch your neck slightly, peering over your shoulder, but there’s nothing. just silence. your pulse settles again, and you let out a quiet laugh at yourself.

the door suddenly swings open, and you drop your hands to your sides, your face breaking into a smile. standing in the doorway is a girl, and instantly, you’re struck by how put together she looks.

her long blonde hair cascades down her back, and she’s dressed in a cozy white knit sweater paired with shorts. it’s casual, effortless, but there’s something about it that screams figure 8 wealth. but what really catches your attention are her socks—brightly colored, with little monster faces peeking out from the tops.

you smile a little wider at the sight. you’re starting to like her already.

“hey, i’m y/n,” you introduce yourself, stepping forward and extending your hand.

“it’s so nice to meet you! i’m sarah,” she replies, her smile just as warm as she reaches out to shake your hand. her grip is firm but friendly, and before you know it, she’s ushering you inside with a wave of her hand. “come on in! my dad isn’t here right now, but i can actually show you to our guest room. it’s, like, right next to mine. it’s so homey. you’ll love it.”

her energy is almost overwhelming, but in a good way. she’s excited, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved.

“i mean, yeah, sure,” you say, bending down to grab your bags again. but before you can get a good grip, sarah is already stepping in to help, lifting one of the bags with ease. you follow her inside, the door clicking shut behind you as you enter the home.

it’s everything you expected and more—bright, airy, with high ceilings and tasteful decor. it’s the kind of place that feels almost untouchable, like something out of a magazine.

as you make your way toward the stairs, you can’t help but glance around, taking it all in. the house smells faintly of lemon and clean linens, and the soft hum of the air conditioner is the only sound that breaks the quiet. it’s beautiful, but it’s also a little intimidating.

“so, is there anyone else home that i should worry about if i, like, wanted to shower?” you ask as you follow sarah up the steps.

sarah shoots you a smile over her shoulder as she leads the way. “i think you’re good. my brother and sister are here, but they won’t bother you. wheezie’s doing her homework, and rafe . . . well, he’s probably not even home.”

her tone is casual, like she’s talking about the weather, but you can’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity. you remember your brother mentioning a rafe in his text earlier, but the name still doesn’t mean much to you. maybe you’ll meet him later, maybe not. either way, it’s not something you’re too concerned about right now.

you reach the guest room door, and sarah twists the knob, pushing it open with a flourish. “here! this is your room for the summer.”

you step inside, and your breath catches in your throat. it’s . . . gorgeous. simple, but elegant, with soft cream-colored walls and wide windows that let in streams of natural light. the bed is large, with crisp white sheets that look impossibly inviting, and there’s a small sitting area in the corner with a plush chair and a side table. it’s more than you ever expected.

“wow,” you breathe, your eyes sweeping over the room. “this is . . . really nice.”

sarah grins, setting your bag down on the chair. “told you! if you’re gonna shower, i’ll leave you to it. but if you need anything, my room’s right next to yours.” she gestures vaguely toward the door. “the bathroom’s across the hall from mine. my dad will probably be home in, like, half an hour? him and rose just ran out to do something before you got here.”

you nod, but your mind snags on the name—rose. ward’s wife. it’s funny, now that you think about it, how little you actually know about ward’s personal life. you’ve worked with him for years, but he’s always kept things strictly professional. it’s only now, standing in his home, that you’re realizing just how much of his life is a mystery to you.

sarah gives you one last smile before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her. and just like that, you’re alone. you let out a long, slow breath, your fingers absentmindedly twisting the rings on your fingers as you take a moment to center yourself. it feels surreal, being here. like stepping into someone else’s life for a while.

you cross the room and pull back the curtains, revealing a stunning view of the island and for a moment, all your worries melt away. it’s beautiful here. peaceful. maybe this summer won’t be so bad after all.

you grab your bathroom bag and a fresh set of clothes, the weight of the morning starting to press on your shoulders as you make your way to the bathroom. you pause outside the door, hearing the muffled laughter of sarah and wheezie from across the hall.

their lighthearted chatter pulls a soft smile onto your lips, a sense of warmth in this house. it's comforting, in a strange way, to be surrounded by family—even if it's not your own.

the bathroom is sleek, modern, almost too luxurious compared to what you're used to. you lock the door behind you and let out a long, relieved breath. the hot water feels like an escape, like it's rinsing away the tension of the trip, the awkwardness of being in someone else’s home, and the nerves tangled in your chest about what comes next.

as the minutes pass, you try to calm the buzz in your mind. you know you need to hurry—the last thing you want is to be caught mid-shower when ward and rose return. you quickly towel off, pulling on your new clothes with an urgency that betrays your attempt to stay calm.

you grab your bag off the counter, unlock the bathroom door, and step back into the hallway. as you cross toward your room, you stop abruptly. there, by the door, are three guys, clearly in the middle of something. confusion furrows your brow—who are they? why are they here?

one of them has his back to you, looking into the room, while the others glance in your direction, the closest one nudging the other to signal your arrival. great. more people.

the one in the doorway catches your eye. his hand is rubbing his jaw, his stance casual, like he owns the place. for all you know, he does. his other hand is stuffed in his pocket, his expression unreadable as he turns toward you.

you can feel the weight of their stares, but you offer a polite smile, trying to act unbothered even though you feel a little out of place. honestly, the house is big enough for all of them, and you're too new to figure out who’s who just yet. you’re not even sure who lives here or if they’re just guests like you.

before any introductions can be made, ward’s voice booms from the front of the house, pulling you from the awkwardness of the moment. “is she here?”

you move past the tall boy, dropping your bag off in the guest room, and make your way downstairs. your heart leaps when you spot ward and rose. the grin that stretches across your face feels genuine, a relief after navigating the uncertainty of the last few hours.

“hey,” you say, stepping off the last stair to shake their hands. “thank you for letting me stay in your home, by the way. i met sarah. she’s great.”

ward gives you a friendly nod, his demeanor warm but business-like—he's already familiar with your work ethic and you know that he expects the same here.

“yeah, wait ‘til you meet rafe and wheezie, though,” he says, glancing at rose, who’s already inching away, clearly not interested in small talk, and it stings more than you’d care to admit. but you brush it off, focusing on the fact that you’re here for work, not approval.

“did sarah show you your room?” ward asks, guiding you toward the kitchen.

“yeah, she did!” you nod, falling into step beside him. “it’s really nice. i also used the shower, honestly. also super nice.”

he chuckles lightly, gesturing to the open space around you. “help yourself to anything while you're here. bathrooms, the kitchen, the living room—whatever you need as long as you're working with me here.”

when you reach the kitchen, ward turns to face you, and you're about to answer his question when the boys from earlier walk in, their presence shifting the energy in the room.

the tall one—who you now realize must be rafe—moves with an air of familiarity, heading straight for the fridge without so much as a glance your way, though his friends have sprawled out on the couch nearby, keeping half an eye on the situation.

“you grew up here?” rafe asks, pulling something from the fridge with a nonchalance that borders on arrogance. his tone isn’t rude, exactly, but there’s a challenge in his words, like he’s testing you.

you shift your weight slightly, feeling his attention on you now. “yeah, i did.”

“humor me,” he says before his father can talk, smirking as he continues, “figure 8 or the cut?"

there it is—the divide. figure 8, the land of privilege and wealth, versus the cut, where people like you are from. it's a question loaded with judgment, but you stand your ground.

you hesitate, unsure whether to entertain your boss’s son. “that’s . . .” you begin saying, noticing the small hint of a smile on his lips as he twists the bottle cap off. “i lived in the cut.”

ward quickly steps in, raising a hand to ease the tension. “y/n,” he says, using your name in a way that reminds you you’re under his wing here. “you don’t have to answer his questions.”

there’s a quiet pause before he officially introduces rafe, confirming what you already suspected. “this is rafe,” he says, nodding toward his son, who watches you intently. ward pauses as he brushed over it quickly, “and his friends,” like he doesn’t want to say it.

you give a small wave in return, feeling the awkwardness creep back in. you’re not sure what to make of the boys yet, but the dynamic between them feels . . . off. guarded. like there’s more going on than meets the eye.

ward claps his hands together, breaking the silence. “time for lunch. rafe, can you please tell sarah and wheezie to come down?” he asks, already heading toward the patio doors. “y/n, feel free to find a seat at the table.”

you murmur an ‘okay’ and follow ward outside, the breeze hitting your face as you step onto the patio. you take a moment to scan the setup, unsure where to sit, but ward motions for you to pick any spot. the table looks inviting, the outdoor space just as luxurious as the inside. it’s surreal, really, being here—like stepping into a different world entirely.

the table outside is a lavish spread, every dish meticulously placed as though the meal is a display of the cameron family's status. some of the food is freshly prepared, you can tell by the steam rising from the platters, while other dishes have clearly been delivered, probably from some upscale restaurant.

everything is pristine, almost too perfect for a casual lunch, but you remind yourself this isn’t just any ordinary lunch. this is a welcome—to ward’s world, to his home, and into the lives of the camerons.

this lunch wasn't really about you, though. it’s more of a formality for ward’s return to north carolina.

as you sit at the table, alone for now, your gaze drifts to the patio, the large windows giving you a glimpse into the house. your thoughts wander to art, and you can almost hear his voice in your head—his dry humor, his sarcastic quips. he’d love this, probably have a million things to say about the whole setup.

the camerons, so far, seem nice. well, most of them. sarah is definitely the easiest to get along with, the type of person you instantly feel comfortable around. but rose? you're not even sure she’ll show up for lunch. and rafe . . . you’re still figuring him out. there’s something about him, something unreadable that leaves you on edge.

as your eyes sweep around the room inside, they land on rafe. he's with his friends, the same group from earlier, laughing and talking like they don’t have a care in the world. there’s an ease about him when he’s with them, like he’s more at home in their company than anywhere else.

you can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him feels . . . dangerous? no, maybe not dangerous, but unpredictable. like he could switch from charming to something much darker in the blink of an eye.

and then it happens—he looks at you. directly at you, like he knows you’ve been watching him. the way he smiles is almost smug, as if he’s aware of the effect he has on people, on you. your heart does a small flip, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze.

then, just as quickly, he says something to his friends, who erupt into laughter, and you feel the uncomfortable prick of self-consciousness. are they laughing at you? god, you hope not. the last thing you need is to be the butt of some joke you don’t understand.

you pull your focus away, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into your cheeks, and you shift in your chair, suddenly too aware of how out of place you feel. this isn’t your world, not yet at least. you’re still figuring out the rules, where you stand, who you can trust. it's like being in a play without knowing your lines.

“i know my kids are going to be a handful when they’re all together, so . . . be prepared for that,” ward’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you turn slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. there’s a warmth to his tone, something almost paternal. “but they’re good.”

you force a small smile and nod, though you’re not sure how much you believe him. you have a feeling ‘good’ might mean different things in the cameron household.

“you’re a year or two older than sarah,” he continues, and you turn back to face the table, focusing on the clean lines of the polished wood, the way the sunlight catches on the glassware. “you’re not that far off in age with rafe, either. sarah’s probably going to be your best friend. she can’t help it.”

there’s a lightness in his voice, and you get the sense that sarah is the glue that holds this family together, the one everyone relies on to keep things civil. “but rafe . . . he’ll warm up to you.”

will he? you can’t help the slight lift of your brows, amusement flickering in your expression as you consider his words. you don’t agree, but you can’t say that. something about rafe feels like he’s not the type to easily ‘warm up’ to anyone, especially someone like you—an outsider stepping into his territory.

“yeah,” you murmur, your tone filled with doubt, “i’m sure of it.”

the cameron family finally gathers at the long, polished table outside, sunlight filtering through the trees and casting dappled patterns across the plates. you take in the scene quietly as everyone finds their places, the quiet shuffle of chairs pulling out, scraping slightly against the patio stones.

it’s a family affair, but rafe’s friends have tagged along—an addition that seems unsanctioned by ward but tolerated nonetheless. ward positions himself at one head of the table, with you and sarah flanking either side of him like you’re all part of some carefully orchestrated tableau.

rafe is at the opposite end, far enough that the distance feels intentional, deliberate. you can’t help but notice how he’s checked out, his gaze drifting, uninterested. to your right, one of his friends, the blond one, settles beside you, and his presence feels awkward, like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible, aware of the invisible tension in the air.

on the other side of him, the other friend sits, both of them quiet for now. down sarah’s side, wheezie sits next to her sister, then rafe at the very end. the empty chair beside wheezie feels like a gap. technically it’s rose’s chair if she were to have changed her mind.

“so what are you?” wheezie asks, breaking the initial silence, and you can see sarah’s immediate reaction, the quick glance she shoots her sister, a mild scolding in her eyes.

the phrasing is blunt, too blunt, but then again, wheezie is a kid—still learning the art of conversation, still figuring out the way words land.

before you can answer, ward steps in, his voice calm but authoritative. “y/n is my assistant,” he says, filling in the blank you hadn’t yet decided how to describe. you pause mid-chew, a small bite of food lingering on your tongue as you listen to him explain. “she’ll be working with me here in north carolina for cameron development over the next few months.”

you nod slightly, not sure how to react to being discussed like you’re not there. you’ve been in situations like this before, professionally at least, but it feels different now, being talked about in front of his family. a piece of you wants to assert yourself, to explain your role in your own words, but it feels like there’s no room for that right now. so, you stay quiet.

“that’s cool,” sarah says, her voice warm and genuine as she glances over at you, a small, encouraging smile on her face. she seems like the type who would get along with almost anyone, a natural mediator. “what do you do? as his assistant and all.”

from the corner of your eye, you catch rafe’s subtle shift, his gaze flicking toward sarah, his expression sharp for a moment, like he’s not interested in this conversation but is still somehow annoyed by it. you wonder what’s behind that look, what tension simmers under the surface.

you swallow and clear your throat, aware that everyone’s waiting for your answer now. “uh, yeah,” you start, your voice sounding more casual than you intend, like you’re trying to downplay your actual responsibilities.

“your dad has his job—he oversees the projects, handles the big picture stuff. i come along when he needs help with negotiating contracts and leases, hiring architects, engineers, contractors, all that. i also scout available land for potential developments.” you pause, glancing around the table. “just stuff like that.”

there’s a moment of silence, and for a second, you think maybe your explanation was enough. but then, like a crack in the veneer, rafe speaks, almost mockingly, “do you also get him coffee whenever he asks? do you fuck him, too?”

his words hit like a punch, unexpected and crude, cutting through the air with a kind of reckless confidence that leaves you momentarily stunned. for a second, the table feels frozen, like no one’s quite sure how to react.

the blond boy next to you nearly chokes on his food, a strangled half-laugh escaping before he catches himself, suddenly aware that rafe’s comment shouldn’t be funny.

your stomach twists, a flush of heat creeping up your neck as you force yourself to stay composed, staring straight at rafe from across the table. his gaze is fixed on you, unflinching, like he’s testing you, waiting to see how you’ll respond.

it’s infuriating—the audacity of it, the way he tosses out the insult so casually, like it’s no big deal.

ward sets his fork down with a soft clink against the plate, his fingers intertwining as he leans forward slightly. the tension shifts, thickening around the table, and you can feel every set of eyes on you, but your focus remains on rafe.

“rafe,” ward’s voice is calm, measured, but there’s a warning in it. and yet, rafe doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch. he stays locked onto you, like you’re locked in some kind of silent standoff, and part of you wonders what he’s trying to prove.

after a beat of silence, ward adds, “can i talk to you inside the house?” it’s not really a question, more of a command, and finally, rafe moves. slowly, he pulls the napkin from his lap, tossing it onto the table before rising from his seat.

ward turns to you, his expression softening into something apologetic, and you nod slightly, acknowledging his silent apology even though you’re not sure what to do with it. as they disappear inside, the tension lingers, heavy and uncomfortable.

you force yourself to take another bite of food, though it feels like chewing cardboard. the uneasy feeling coils tighter in your chest. this is off to a rocky start, to say the least. sarah and wheezie seem fine, but rafe . . . rafe’s going to be a problem.

sarah reaches across the table, her hand brushing lightly against yours, and you glance up to meet her eyes. there’s sincerity in her expression, a quiet kind of empathy. “i’m so sorry for him,” she says softly. “rafe has a tendency to act like an idiot on a daily basis. don’t let anything he says get to you.”

before you can respond, the blond boy—topper, you think—finally speaks, his voice quiet but carrying a hint of amusement. “he doesn’t have a tendency to act like an idiot every day,” he says, shaking his head slightly as he takes another bite of food, a small smile playing on his lips. it’s the first thing he’s said to you directly, and the casualness of it surprises you.

“oh, he absolutely does,” sarah retorts with a light laugh. “and i’m sure you get yours from him.” she turns to you, smiling again. “y/n, this is topper and kelce, if you hadn’t already been introduced.”

before you can say anything, wheezie pipes up quickly, almost as if she’s sharing a secret, “sarah and topper used to date.” her voice is soft, but the reaction from sarah and topper is immediate—they both look over at her, like this was something she wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

“what?” wheezie says, glancing around the table innocently.

you can’t help but smile at the sibling dynamics playing out in front of you. it reminds you of your own relationship with your brother, the way siblings know each other’s secrets, their histories, the things that outsiders wouldn’t catch unless they were paying attention. in this brief moment, amidst the tension, you find a sliver of familiarity, of something you recognize.

you pull your napkin off your lap, rising from your seat, feeling the tension still clinging to your skin like humidity. you adjust your clothes, smoothing down fabric that doesn’t need smoothing, but it gives your hands something to do.

“where’s the nearest bathroom inside?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but you can feel the strain in your voice, the way your words almost trip over themselves.

“once you’re in the kitchen, it should be the door in the hallway if you just keep walking straight,” sarah tells you, offering a small smile. you nod in response, forcing yourself to return the gesture, though it feels hollow.

you step away from the table, and sarah seizes the moment to nudge wheezie, probably to scold her for spilling her relationship drama with topper.

as you make your way toward the bathroom, your steps slow. it’s not like you really need to go. you glance behind, making sure no one’s paying attention, before diverting your path to the front door instead. the knot in your stomach tightens with every step.

the front door is slightly ajar, and through the opening, you spot rafe. he’s leaning back in a chair on the porch, his head tilted toward the sky as if it’s the only thing he can stand to look at.

ward’s standing near him, mid-conversation, and their voices pull you in, despite knowing you shouldn’t eavesdrop. you lean against the doorframe, just out of sight, your heartbeat quickening.

“you didn't have to fly out some girl that works at the company just because she’s doing good,” rafe says, lifting his head from the chair, his voice tinged with frustration, like he’s been holding it in for too long. “i could've taken the job, especially because i’m already here.”

there’s bitterness in his words, but beneath that, you catch something else—something raw. rafe’s trying to understand why he’s being left out, why he’s not the one ward trusts.

“exactly, rafe,” ward replies, his tone firmer than before. “you're twenty-one and you’re still here. she’s twenty and she's been working with me for nearly two years. don’t you think that says something?”

his words land heavily, and for a moment, there’s silence. you feel the weight of the comparison ward’s making, and it sinks into you too, even though it shouldn’t. rafe chuckles, standing up, but it’s not out of amusement. it’s a defense mechanism, a way to shield himself from whatever hurt ward’s words are causing.

“y/n is here because she’s good at what she does,” ward continues, his voice steadier now, trying to end the conversation.

“alright, dad,” rafe says, nodding, but his expression betrays his words. “let's say i believe that—because i don’t—why am i not in her place?”

ward sighs, shaking his head like he doesn’t understand how rafe isn’t getting it. “rafe, think about what kind of job she has. how could i trust you with that?”

the words sting, and even though they aren’t directed at you, you feel a strange sense of guilt crawling under your skin. you know you’ve earned your place, worked hard for it. but hearing it spelled out like this, in such a stark contrast to rafe, it makes you feel . . . uncomfortable.

rafe rubs his chin, his fingers brushing against the stubble there. he doesn’t say anything, just nods like he’s processing it all, or maybe pretending to. he turns to head back inside.

and that’s when he sees you, standing there, caught in the act of listening.

his eyes lock onto yours, and for a second, you don’t know what to do. your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep your head high. you can’t apologize. you don’t need to. this is your job, after all, the one you’ve worked damn hard for.

still, the silence stretches between you, heavy and uncomfortable. rafe doesn’t say anything, just turns away, walking back out toward the patio. you exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath. the knot in your stomach only tightens as you push yourself off the doorframe and head toward the bathroom, your footsteps almost echoing in the stillness of the hallway.

you stop in front of the bathroom door, staring at it like it might hold some answers you don’t have. your hand reaches for the knob, your fingers curling around it, but you don’t turn it. instead, you stand there, replaying the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of what you’ve just heard. rafe’s resentment, ward’s trust in you—it’s a lot to take in, and you wonder if you’re supposed to feel . . . what? proud? guilty? it’s hard to pin down.

before you can figure it out, you hear footsteps approaching. your hand drops from the doorknob just as ward’s voice reaches you.

“hey,” he says, his tone softer now, though there’s still an edge of frustration lingering there, probably from his conversation with rafe. “you and the girls getting along good?”

you plaster on a smile, nodding even though your thoughts are still tangled from the scene outside. “yeah, we’re good.”

ward mutters a small ‘good, good’ as he walks past you, heading back to the patio. you watch him go, your arms crossing over your chest as if that’ll hold you together. you follow behind him slowly, a quiet unease settling in your chest. this family, with all its complications, feels like a storm you’ve just walked into.

and then there’s rafe. if he already resents you, you can only imagine how his friends—topper and kelce—will react. boys like them, they stick together, and you know that dynamic all too well. the chances of them giving you a fair shot seem slim.

you brace yourself as you step back outside, a small sigh slipping past your lips. this job, this place—it’s not going to be easy. but nothing worth it ever is, right?

“so you're from the outer banks?” sarah asks as soon as you sit back down. there’s an edge to her voice, like she’s making an effort to seem casual but is still trying to figure you out. you can’t blame her. she’s probably just trying to get a feel for who you are, maybe ease the tension that’s been hanging in the air since you got here.

“where from?” she adds, glancing at you over the rim of her glass.

you pause, fork hovering just above your plate, feeling a flicker of unease. it’s a simple enough question, but you can already feel the weight of your answer.

“near quinton,” you say, cutting into your food with deliberate care, keeping your tone light. “a little south.”

you don’t look up as you speak, focusing on the neat little slices you’re making in your lunch, as if perfecting that action could keep the conversation from slipping into uncomfortable territory.

“i’m surprised we haven’t met before today,” you continue, the lie slipping out so smoothly you almost believe it yourself. “my friends and i knew just about everyone before i left the island.”

but the truth sits heavily in your stomach. you don’t know them. sure, your brother mentioned that your families had crossed paths when you were younger, but the memories never stuck. whatever brief moments there were, they’ve faded into the backdrop of your childhood.

rafe, however, doesn’t let your words slide by as easily. he latches onto them like a dog with a bone, straightening in his seat, eyes gleaming with interest.

“your friends?” his voice cuts through the air, almost too eager, too sharp. it’s like he’s waiting for you to say something wrong, give him an opening to tear into you. sarah watches him warily, her eyes flicking between you and her brother. she’s looking for help—maybe from her dad—but the tension is palpable, thickening by the second.

your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and the vibration pulls you from the uncomfortable scrutiny rafe’s casting in your direction.

“who do you know here?” he presses, and his tone is challenging now, like he’s daring you to prove something to him. to justify your place here, in this house, at this table.

you lift your gaze then, meeting his eyes with a steady look, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. but there’s something in the way he’s staring at you that makes your skin crawl, like he’s already made up his mind about you, about what kind of person you are.

it’s fucking exhausting.

“hate to interrupt you, ray,” you say, letting a mocking lilt creep into your voice as you rise from your seat. you keep your movements controlled, measured, not too rushed. “but i have a phone call.”

you pull your phone from your pocket, waving it slightly, feeling a small rush of satisfaction when rafe’s jaw clenches ever so slightly. “let me just take that really quick so we can continue our conversation.”

you don’t wait for his response, because you know whatever he says will just add to the irritation simmering beneath your skin. as you step out of the way, you hear him mutter, “it’s rafe,” under his breath, like correcting you is somehow important to him.

“it’s actually my brother!” you whisper-yell back, flashing the screen of your phone in his direction, making sure he sees the call.

as you walk away, you feel the tension ease just slightly, but it’s still there, humming beneath the surface. this place—figure eight, tannyhill—it’s like a tangled web, and you’ve just stepped into it, with people like rafe already ready to watch you stumble.

you press your phone to your ear as you step out of the patio and into the cool air of the home, and you try to calm yourself, leaning against the wall as your brother’s voice greets you on the other end.

you know you’ll have to go back in there, face rafe again, but for now, you allow yourself a brief moment to breathe.

considering making this a few-part series (maybe) !! let me know if you’d be interested thru replies, anons, or dms <3

@tiaamberxx

[imthepunchlord]

I think that the main problem with Marinette is that she always gets blamed for minor things, but her bigger mistakes are ignored.

She also gets blamed for things that aren't her fault. Like Reverser I blame Nathaniel and his extreme expectations, and Refleckdoll, it was Alya who was making things worse for Juleka while Marinette was trying to help. Gamer's another as she did play fair and square, and won fair and square.

But yeah, ML has an issue with priorities. With the mindset that ONLY Marinette can be at fault, which has her at fault for things that actually aren't her fault or are minor things when there are bigger faults with others; and that, for Marinette's actual faults and issues, they don't focus on the actual problems.

For one thing, Marinette is a perfectionist, in her work and responsibilities, and in how she helps people. This leads to her being meddling and controlling. With good intentions but she can take it far. She even has this idea that only she can be the solution, though more in an Atlas complex way than being egotistical.

Which I'll give the show this, by how it's set up, Adrien and Marinette kinda feed this bad aspect of their dynamic into each other. Adrien goofs around as a hero or doesn't take situations seriously with his flirting at bad times, so Marinette feels like she has to step up more as leader and responsible one, and Adrien doesn't get a chance to take things more seriously or be the leader as Marinette doesn't expect him to, which leads to his frustration of not being as valued as a partner like he wants and he acts out, and Marinette sees she can't rely on him as much and it just cycles.

I know the show sorta tries to address this with the insistence that Marinette can trust Alya and doesn't need to shoulder everything, which is great, if they didn't take it back right away validating Marinette in being right in not trusting Alya.

Which man, that's one of Marinette's actual big issues, and you address it, and then take two steps back and reverse and vindicate the flawful mindset.

Another big issue is her over involving herself in this she doesn't or shouldn't get involved with, meddling included. She could do to ease back, let others solve their own problems. Like, Darkblade comes to mind (though there may be a better example). I do think it was a good episode, but you got Marinette admitting she's already busy, and doesn't want to be class rep, but steps up as no one else is. This is just an added responsibility she doesn't need but does so because she's involving herself in others problems.

This also leads into the other issue: Marinette's tendency to overpile onto her plate. They even focused on this in Gamer 2.0 but instead of doing a lesson of learning to ease up, take a break, and have fun (which Adrien could've been great for, heck, could've had them bond over a busy lifestyle); but nope, she passes Max off to her parents and continue being busy.

And of course, there's the big issue of her crush.

Like, they're 13-14 yos dealing with first crushes, they're going to be cringe and crazy as they don't know how to handle this, but they just take it way too far. And the extremes it's taken isn't even funny but concerning.

Marinette having his schedule.

The hoard of pictures.

Jealousy that spirals to extremes.

And having rose colored view of Adrien, to thinking he can never do wrong and feeling like she needs to protect and assist him, even at the risk of herself (Collector).

Part of the worst part about this is that this exists for the writers' amusement, taking it to unlikable extremes and not portrayed as really bad flaws that need to be addressed or have lessons about; which leads me to question what's the exaggeration and what can be more accurate/reasonable for the cringey, dramatic crush. Some of which could've been fine issues to fault her for and for her to get called out and learn from, but we don't get that, all we get is unpleasantness.

Oh! You could also cover Marinette's lack of prioritizing herself, and may not knowing how to take a break and have fun. Cause I don't know if this girl knows how to relax. And she definitely doesn't behave like a kid, but much older. Could even delve into the friendship problems she has not really connecting with her friends as well because she doesn't know how to be a kid, how to mess around and goof off.

Marinette has a good number of issues and flaws that can be addressed and worked with, but they pick the wrong ones to focus on.

[merakiui]

Rollo's trying his hardest to not jump his darling due to it being ungodly and he mustn't ruin her naive and virgin body, but the horny grip is strong and his darling just came downstairs in only HIS shirt. Her legs.... her shoulders... and the top of her breast is showing. She asks if he wants breakfast and he says yes... then proceeds to fuck her on the kitchen table.

👁 👁 omg…

He thinks it will be fine if he just,,, rubs against you because that’s safe and won’t deflower you in any way, but when he lifts the shirt only slightly and sees you’re not wearing any panties……. how can you expect him to be content with just dry humping when you’re in his shirt with your bare pussy out and asking him if he wants breakfast in such a sweet, sleepy voice!!!!! It’s over for him. >_<

Breakfast is the last thing on either of your minds as you waste the morning away with each other. You’ll have to open a window to air out the kitchen, but even after that you’re still pressed against the table or the counter—wherever’s sturdy enough to support you—panting into each other’s mouth. He was going to fuss over using protection, but all of those protests died on his tongue the minute he sunk in raw to your soft, warm, virgin pussy.

You’re such a terrible temptation. A naughty girl. Do you realize that? Did you come down in his shirt and nothing else on purpose? Did you want him to take you for breakfast when you asked? It’s not Rollo’s lust that’s to fault. You’re just too irresistible. >:( and when you’re clinging to him or scrabbling for a handhold on the counter while he pounds into you from behind, he can’t imagine being able to keep himself in check now. How is he going to keep his hands to himself when he knows how soft and warm you are, when he’s slowly figuring out where you’re most sensitive and what places on your body get you unraveling the fastest!!!! OTL

Some of his shirts end up in your closet after this. You don’t need to ask to decipher the meaning. He likes seeing you in his clothes. And who are you to disappoint your dear Rollo? <3 next time you’ll wear pretty lingerie beneath one of his shirts.

[partycatty]

may i request makeup sex with johnny and he's whiny and pathetic and very sweet <3

i just got the cutest idea :3

johnny cage > sorry, not sorry

makeup sex with johnny turns into a hospital trip... but you're not all that sorry.

warnings: nsfw, mild gore not really, more like a small injury, ur going crazy style

notes: i promise i'm still here, just mainly on twitter lately! oh, and i have a tiktok and discord server now!

[ masterlist ]

• johnny, as per usual, had to be right. he wasn't always, but being wrong ticked him off. for better or for worse, you were really good at being right. better than him.

• "clearly, your memory's going," his arms are crossed, lip twitching in mild frustration. "the entire twist ending was that coraline only dreamt about the other world. that was the whole point of the — don't look at me like that."

• "i'm not looking at you like anything," you throw your hands up defensively. "i just know you're wrong. she would just wake up in the bed, so... why are we even arguing about this?"

• "because you have the attitude of someone who knows what they're talking about."

• "and you have the attitude of a man sleeping on the couch tonight."

• "it's not my fault you're being dumb!"

• "jonathan."

• "uh oh. full name."

• he spends the rest of the evening apologizing to you, practically crawling up your shirt in an attempt to get you to forgive him. similarly to a pathetic dog, he trails behind you with big eyes, hoping to warm the cold shoulder.

• partially due to your pettiness and partially because you were starting to find it amusing, your silence carried into the night. crawling into bed, you made it clear that being the big spoon was off the table. what wasn't, in johnny's eyes, was the little spoon.

• he shimmies over to you, the sheets swishing obnoxiously as he makes his existence clear. a warm, strong hand finds its way to your hip, squeezing the flesh tenderly.

• "still mad?" he whispers in the darkness.

• "you've spent all day trying to get me to forgive you without even saying 'sorry,'" you reply lowly.

• he thinks for a moment. "i'm sorry. can i make it better?" his fingers dance their way up your shirt, and then down your pajama bottoms, massaging circles into your skin. "i promise i'll be good."

• your stomach twists — and your core pulses — hearing such filthy words fall from his lips so suddenly. damn him and his honey tongue, his sweet words and oh-so charming voice that always makes you weak in the knees when you try to be stone.

• "now?" you try to sound annoyed, but the noise sounds more like a chipping resolve, a pathetic excuse for anger that leans closer to curiosity. "you can't think of anything better?"

• "can you?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

• he had you there. somehow, someway, johnny was now below you, squeezing your thighs lovingly as you hovered above him.

• "you'll suffocate," you protest nervously, running a hand through his soft locks. "i may still be mad at you but i don't want to kill you."

• "you won't," his voice is half here, half somewhere else as he fixates on the sight of your pantsless form, your cunt embarrassingly eager for attention already when all you had done prior is made out. "if i told you i only worked out for this very moment, would you believe me?"

• "if you said it convincingly enough, superstar," you tug on his hair and he whines, a desperate needy whine that makes his own hips buck and his grip tighten on the chub of your thighs. unable to wait a moment more, he tugs you downward, landing your pussy directly onto his open mouth that hungrily latches to you like you offered his last meal.

• at first, you're hesitant to apply more weight into his face, but you feel his nose bump into your clit as he laps at your hole and something inside of you stirs in the most twisted way.

• johnny eats you out like an absolute starved man, a king of head as he proclaims himself to be. his hands climb up your body, drawing reddened lines down your bare skin as he grips onto something, anything to ground himself from this heavenly experience. to him, your pussy was liquid gold, the finest meal, and he would do absolutely anything for a taste of how aroused you were for him and him only.

• you instinctively rock your hips, sliding yourself across his face and johnny does his best to accommodate, providing just enough attention to whatever he has immediate access to to make you moan and writhe, jolting and twitching for more.

• "mmph — fuck, i forgive you," you breathe out an airy laugh as you massage his scalp. attempting to lean your torso back, you grab hold of his cock. it's almost painfully hard and weeping, twitching for attention. he deserved it, after his "apology."

• johnny immediately reacts to the sudden hold, reeling in the way you stroke his length. he groans into your cunt, causing you to rock unintentionally harder than before and snap your hips forward with a cry out. it inspires him to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, flicking his tongue back and forth with so much speed he might whine about his jaw being sore the next morning.

• you feel your orgasm quickly approach, chasing up on you like a very abrupt finish line. you attempt to warn johnny but you could only whimper and spew out incoherent vowels, now completely dismissive of how much weight you were now applying to his face.

• "j-johnny—" crack!

• johnny cries out in pain, tapping your bare ass as a sign to lift yourself up, a silent safe word. immediately obliging, you sheepishly climb off of him, now sitting by his face and leaning over it in concern.

• he's grinning, grinning like an absolute fool, except he's now covered in blood. well, a mix of you and blood. the source is easy to find, as his nose is now a distorted shape and horrifically bruised.

• "did..." your arousal fades away and is replaced by embarrassment and horror as you realize what you'd done. johnny seems so pleased about it all, brows furrowed in pain but smile as bright as ever.

• "i forgive you," he grins, reaching up to wipe his face. "just help me realign it."

• "realign your nose? it's broken, dude, we should go to a hospital."

• "funny how you call someone whose face you sat on 'dude,'" he mutters under his breath as he feels the shape of his bridge. "yeah, realign. done it tons of times. you think in all my years of martial arts, i've never broken anything?"

• you want to yell at him again, smack him, ask if he's okay and kiss him at the same time. your man, johnny fucking cage was the embodiment of the word "goofy" and he showed it in the oddest ways. only he would be so fucking pleased about it all, cheesing this hard while covered in blood. it was almost... kind of hot.

• a chuckle slips past your lips, then an ugly snort that makes his eyes widen in amusement. unable to fully process the day you've had, you double over in laughter, slapping his chest as you cackle. johnny joins in, his laughter chiming like silver bells. even his "ugly" laugh was the prettiest.

• "i'm sorry for calling you dumb earlier," he repeats, wiping his face with a giggle. "i really am."

• "and i'm sorry for breaking your nose by sitting on it," you reply, leaning over to place a kiss to his temple. "sorry... not sorry."

• "ha, ha," he brushes you off, going to scrunch his nose but instead wincing in pain. "i didn't think you'd go all popclaw on me, doll. i'm lucky i kept my head."

• "consider that a warning."

• "right..." he trails off. "we... should probably actually go to the hospital."

[cainified]

did you just try to harm your lieutenant? 📏 *ೃ༄

pairing: simon ghost riley x afab!reader

cw: i suck at writing military debriefs or any at all , not proofread cos i’m scared ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

It wasn’t by any means your fault that this meeting was so painstakingly boring. Mapping out plans Laswell for a small takedown, ensuring every little detail was covered just made you huff each time you passed a sheet back over to the table after a quick review.

It didn’t go unnoticed by your Lieutenant, his lips in a thin, straight line as he watched you carelessly sort through documents until reaching the right one, scribbling mess over the paper before sending it away. You would wince each time the paper would fly a little further than expected, reaching over the table to push it back into the pile, giving a sheepish smile to no one in particular.

It also wasn’t your fault when Laswell had left a ruler by your side as she explained the importance of the mission, her eyebrows furrowed as she pointed out each and every possible scenario she could manage to think of. The scratched at ruler, having seen better days, soon rested half off the table, your palm holding it down whilst the other gently pressed it down, producing a short brrrring before the sound fell flat.

Thankfully, the whirr of the computer behind you, (which in no way could have been up to date for the work you were dealing with) covered it up perfectly, allowing for you to continue with your quiet antics. Well, for a few extra seconds, anyway.

The silence that ensued went ignored by you, pressing the ruler down harder to see how far you could test it. "One... two..." You whisper under your breath; "We should scout out the p-," Laswell begins, turning over to face you.

Immediately, you startle from the change in volume, your palm lifting before you could stop the vibration of the ruler- it's almost as if the world stops as the ruler flings at Ghost, making a sharp clack against his hard mask before it falls to the table. You didn't know if you should thank God that it hadn't instead hit his face against the thin fabric of the balaclava he normally dons, but the sound it had made practically punctuated your fear instead.

Fuck. That's you out of a job for harming a Lieutenant, and probably living in a shroud of shame for the rest of your life.

Soap immediately holds his hand over his mouth, sputtering at your Lieutenant, earning a sharp slap upside the head before he turns to face you. It doesn't stop either him or Gaz from guffawing at the scene in front, but you badly wish it had.

Your face burns, blood rushing up your cheeks, almost trying to help engulf you into hiding from Ghost. You reach over the table, a sight for sore eyes, or really all eyes on the table, as you picked the ruler back up, sliding it over to Laswell.

"I-I'm.. so sorry." You whisper, your voice hoarse; if you had spoken any quieter, maybe it wouldn't have happened at all. With a shake of his head, Ghost interlaces his fingers, resting them onto the table. You weren't sure if the quiet was making the situation worse, forcing you to sit there, staring down at your lap.

"Well, apart from someone attempting to take out their Lieutenant, I think we should be ready for Thursday." Price states, his hands caressing over his mutton chops before he stands, thanking everyone, gathering up the papers to slip into a plastic folder.

You abruptly stand, your head tilted down as you brushed by the three other men; if neither had seen the annotated documents still scattered on the table, they would have believed that you were never there.

Ghost turns around, ignoring Soap’s short comment, stalking behind you, leaning forward to grip your wrist once you were both out of earshot from the meeting room, “What’re y’playin’ at?” He asks, gruff with slight concern, his head tilting to the side, his shadowed eyes gashing through you like a laser.

You step back, as far as you could make one step count, giving Ghost an incredulous look. You hesitate to respond- your eyes droop down to see the moulding of his dark green shirt against his damp skin from having trained with a few rookies before the meeting.

“..It really was an accident, I’m sorry. I just get a little distracted sometimes, won’t happen again Lieutenant.” You mockingly raise two fingers, saluting him to try defuse the tension; or to make it seem a lot less worse than it did. Was it working? Absolutely not.

A bemused smile curls against Ghost’s mask - you’d be thankful you couldn’t see it if you knew- as he drops his hand, wringing his own together. Bounding down the hall, Soap claps his arm around Ghost’s shoulders, still having that half-playful, half-serious look about him. “Ye’ alreet there, hen?” He directs to you, holding up the ruler that had just attacked your Lieutenant.

Just the thought of sending a flying ruler straight at Ghost’s face makes you groan, your hands instinctively coming up to hide your face, “Soap, put that down.” Your words come out slightly muffled against your hands before they rubbed down your face, but before you could reach out to grab it, Ghost takes it, glancing over at the plastic as if it was a precious gem.

“I’ll take it, I need a new one anyway.” He slides it into one of the many pockets adorning his trousers, nodding at Soap before walking off, leaving you a little stunned. Right.

wait this is my first ever post sigh was it a flop .. thinking of doing a part 2 cos no way is reader getting away with attempted murder of a lieutenant!!!!! wink wink

taglist: (but it’s just my friend sob) @thewrstinme

[shitpostingkats]

Man I've been playing through dual destinies and the visceral Apollo and Athena contrasts are making me go insane.

Your name is Apollo Justice. You are a lawyer. You're a pawn. You're a weapon. Your mentor is a jackass and your rival only sees you as a ghost of his brother. You're pushed around town to run chores you aren't being rewarded for. You are volunteered to deliver revenge on behalf of your jackass mentor, who refuses to tell you anything because it might spoil his game. When you falter, everyone tells you to learn to stand up on your own. Your mother finally learns of your existence, but she isn't ready, so everyone agrees not to tell you. After all, it's her feelings that are at stake. Apollo? It's never about Apollo.

Your name is Athena Cykes. You are a lawyer. You got here all by yourself, clawed your way to it all on your own. Your mentor set aside space in his life to take you under his wing, to offer advice and security. He takes over when you falter, and walks you through everything he's doing, so you can one day stand without assistance. You keep working, so so hard, because everyone in the courtroom is a familiar face. Your childhood friend. Your mentor. Your coworker who is slowly losing it, and you're not sure why, but you're pretty sure it's your fault. The man who gave up everything for you. Athena? Everything is about Athena.

Neither of you is okay.