#rc whats the truth

[romance-club-daily]

What's the truth? HS2 Edition~

July/2023

VK

[k-hotchoisan]

backseat serenade

<mingi x fem!reader>

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn  @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?�� You ask. 

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces. 

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram. 

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours. 

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression. 

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth. 

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life. 

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist. 

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures. 

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi. 

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person. 

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door. 

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”. 

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head. 

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him. 

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh. 

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat. 

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs. 

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind. 

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden. 

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put. 

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you. 

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch. 

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear. 

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.” 

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer. 

And you wonder how far you should take this. 

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties. 

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress. 

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart. 

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear,  “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air. 

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical. 

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation. 

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.” 

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point. 

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out. 

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet. 

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet. 

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.  

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon. 

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers. 

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath. 

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you. 

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more. 

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark. 

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building. 

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile. 

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door. 

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment. 

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it. 

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter. 

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell. 

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off. 

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him. 

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“ 

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed. 

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away. 

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights. 

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven. 

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants. 

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you. 

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more. 

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods. 

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger. 

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out. 

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again. 

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants. 

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink. 

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy. 

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp. 

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you. 

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses. 

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat. 

You sure know how to push his buttons. 

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb. 

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out. 

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more. 

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip. 

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high. 

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath. 

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his. 

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you. 

But he pulls you along with him. 

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

[protobrieile]

maybe i should make a masterdoc. we used to have a ff nilex masterdoc and that was fun

[autumnscribbles]

truth | rc

pairing: bsf!rafe x reader, rafe x sofia

summary: y/n overhears sofia and hollis unintentionally, and as rafes friend decides to tell him

warning: swearing, that’s about it i think

wc: 1.8k

a/n: thank you to the anon who sent this in! i’m loving the rafe angst lately, i’ve been having so much fun getting back into writing!! I legit couldn’t think of a title so for now there isn’t one lmaooo

part 2

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

The fresh night air filled your lungs as you took a deep breath. You always loved walking at night. The air always felt better, the way everything quieted and slowed down always brought you peace. You loved to sit on the dock, listening to the crash of the waves. You watched the stars, mentally pointing out your favorite constellations as you spotted them.

You were brought out of your trance by a familiar voice coming from one of the boats in your vicinity.

“How much?”

You turned your head, leaning your body to try to get a good view. You spotted Sofia, sitting on a boat with that blonde lady you saw the other day. What was her name again? Holly?

“25, dear,” she said. “No questions asked.”

You slowly rose to your feet, trying to get a better view and be more in earshot. You had to stop your jaw from dropping when you heard the conversation. Twenty five grand for Sofia to convince Rafe to take the Goat Island deal. The well put together woman tried to make it same like it was for Rafe’s benefit, but you could tell by Sofia’s reactions that it wasn’t. She just wanted the money, she didn’t care how.

“What the fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

You saw Holly…Hollis! That’s what it was! She handed something to Sofia, and you caught a glimpse of what looked like cash inside. The conversation started wrapping up and you quickly picked up your pace, walking in the opposite direction and off the dock so neither of them saw you.

The sound of your shoes on the pavement sounded too loud in your ears as you hurried back to your house. You knew you weren’t supposed to overhear the conversation, but what were you supposed to do with that information now that you had it? You had to tell Rafe, right? He was your friend. You couldn’t let him get screwed over, especially not when he thought Sofia had good intentions.

You sat on the edge of your bed, breathing shallow as you went over everything you heard. You let out a mix of a sigh and a groan as you flopped onto your back, staring at the ceiling. You’d sleep on it, and decide how to go about telling Rafe tomorrow. You were supposed to meet him at the beach, maybe you could catch him alone before that.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘

The sun was bright and unforgiving, your eyes squinting automatically as you walked down the street. You decided you’d meet Rafe at his place before going down to the beach together. You needed to catch him alone.

You already felt the sweat forming on your forehead as you approached his front door, knocking urgently. When he didn’t answer, you knocked again. Eventually, the door flung open, his eyes half closed once the sun hit his face.

“Can you chill out?” he groaned, shielding the sun with his hand.

You could tell he had just woken up. Usually you’d feel bad, but honestly, you didn’t care. You needed to talk to him, to tell him what you heard and saw last night.

“Rafe I need to tell you something,” you said. “It’s important.”

He groaned slightly before stepping aside, silently inviting you in. He disappeared for a minute or two, arriving back with two mugs of coffee in his hand. You let him take a few sips, waiting for the caffeine to be in him before you started explaining. He needed to be alert and awake when he heard it.

“I was out at the dock last night, just clearing my head,” you started. “And I overheard something I think you should know.”

He stared at you, urging you to continue. His bright blue eyes were fixated on you now, fully awake.

“I saw Sofia and…Hollis?” it came out as more of a question. “I heard Hollis telling Sofia that she would give her 25 grand to convince you to sign the deal.”

“What?” Rafe said, his eyebrows ruffling together and his head shaking as he set his mug down on the coffee table beside him. “You must have misheard.”

“I saw Sofia take the money, Rafe,” you sighed. “I’m sorry, I know you really like her and everything but I really thought you should know and-”

“Just stop, y/n!” Rafe cut you off, raising a hand as if to pause you. “Spare me the fucking dramatics. Why are you trying to fuck with me?”

His jaw clenched, twitching as if he was biting his tongue. You hit a nerve, you could tell. You sat up a bit straighter, trying to show that you were serious. He wasn’t believing you. He didn’t want to think you might be right.

“I’m not!” you protested. “I just thought you should know. I think this Goat Island thing is sketchy, and she’s in on it.”

“Are you seriously that fucking jealous?” he asked, his voice raising as he stood up, towering over you. “You seriously can’t handle the thought of me being happy with someone so much that you have to make shit up?”

“Rafe this isn’t about Sofia!” you defended, standing up to match him. “I want you to be happy, but I can’t not let you know she’s being shady behind your back!”

“No, you know what y/n?” he asked, not waiting for the answer. “I’ve waited for you forever. Just waiting for the day you finally give me the time of day. For once, my attention is on someone other than you. And you can’t fucking handle it.”

You took a step back, your mouth opening slightly. You were at a loss for words. He really thought this was a jealousy issue? That you made up a whole complex story just because you don’t like Sofia? Sure, you were a little hurt when they got together. She was beautiful, and kind, and there were moments you wished he looked at you the way he looked at her. But this wasn’t about hurting her, or getting your way.

“You just loooooved pulling me around behind me like your puppy,” he continued, matching your step back with one forward. His voice lowered and his eyes narrowed, meeting your gaze. “You loved holding me close. You know how I feel for you, and you love it, y/n. You love the attention and you love how you can use it to your advantage.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” you screamed. “You’re fucking delusional Rafe. I’m trying to tell you something serious and you think this is just a love triangle? A lovers quarrel?”

“Stop messing with my head!” he shouted, tapping his temples with his index fingers. “That’s all you do, is fuck with my head! All the time!”

Your mind was reeling. Is that how he felt? Like you were just stringing him along. You never knew Rafe saw you as anything other than a friend. If you weren’t so focused on trying to tell him the truth, you would have held on longer to what he said about waiting for you. Did he mean he had feelings for you all this time? You always buried your feelings for Rafe, pretending they didn’t exist. It was easier that way. Easier to accept you’d never be together.

Rafe had always made your heart flutter, but the baggage that came with him often kept you at a distance when it came to getting closer. He was your friend, you cared for him. You never told him about how you truly felt, because you knew it would likely be a bad idea to be romantically involved. You assumed he’d never feel that way about you anyway, so you buried the hatchet.

“Fine,” you exhaled. “Don’t come to me when you find out your little girlfriend screwed you over. It’s your 400k, not mine.”

Trying to keep up an air of strength, you clenched your jaw. You wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t react emotionally. He’ll find out the truth eventually, the truth always comes out. He’d admit you were right if you gave it time.

Until then, you walked out his door, leaving it open behind you. His earlier words still coursed through your mind. The mean ones, and the ones about his feelings for you, but as always, you swept them under the rug. You couldn’t face the truth yourself.

You felt something tug at your wrist, turning around to meet Rafe’s blue eyes once again. You thought they looked glossier, a sheen over them. Was he tearing up? No way, Rafe Cameron never cries. Not over this.

“Y/n,” he said lowly, a stark contrast from his previous shouting. “Tell me the fucking truth. Are you just saying this to fuck with me and make me question my relationship with Sofia?”

“No, Rafe,” you said honestly. “I know what I saw. This isn’t some ploy to get you to break up with her or be with me instead. I’m just trying to protect you.”

It was the truth. Despite how you felt about Rafe, you wanted the best for him. If Sofia was what was best, you’d support it. You almost wished you hadn’t seen what you saw at the dock. That way, you wouldn’t have to insert yourself in their relationship at all. You could continue to stand on the sidelines, watching his life pass with you becoming less and less present.

“Protect me,” he scoffed, mocking your words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked harshly.

“Protect me from what, huh? My little poor heart being hurt?” he asked sarcastically. “It’s too late for that, y/n. You can’t protect me from anything when you’re part of the problem.”

You shook your head at him, at a loss for words. He clearly wasn’t done speaking, but you ran out of snarky retorts. You felt like you had whiplash from all the directions this conversation was going. He stared at you for a moment, his mouth slightly open, his hands running over his newly buzzed hair. You heard him release a quiet sigh, his head hanging down.

“No one will ever be good enough in your eyes,” he said, looking back up at you. “Not Sofia, and not me. I was never good enough for you, and Sofia isn’t good enough for me. So you can’t protect me from ‘heartbreak’, y/n. Because you are the problem.”

He pointed a finger at you, his teeth clenched together as the words left his lips. He turned around swiftly and walked back into his house, slamming the door behind him. Unable to process what just happened, you stared blankly in his direction, met with nothing but the front of his house. By trying to help, you somehow managed to make things so much worse, and so complicated.

“Now what?” you said to yourself under your breath.

[reality-detective]

Where are all those people who were telling us there is no plan and nobody is coming to save us?

I used to be inundated with them telling me I was fool for following Q and it was a psyop to get us all to be complacent and comply with the globalists agenda of total enslavement.

They wanted us to rise up violently and remove the government.

They wanted a civil war.

We didn’t take the bait.

Instead, we are witnessing a complete dismantling of the insurgency in real time. Faster than ever.

How?

Q told us to “follow the money.”

That’s the “keystone.”

Q drop

5

“FOLLOW THE MONEY, it’s the key.

What is Pelosi’s net worth by way of one example. Why coincidentally is her memory apparently going?

Cover for possible future indictment to plead what?

What if John M never had surgery and that was a cover for a future out if needed against prosecution?

Why did Soros transfer his bulk public funds to a NP? Note this doesn’t include massive slush funds that are pulled by several high ups.

Why did Soros’ son have several meetings with Canadian PM and how is that related to Clinton’s?

Can you rely on being able to board a plane and fly away?

Why is MS13 a priority _ nobody got this.

Could people pay such gangs to kill opponents and why / how to insulate against exposure?

The truth is mind blowing and cannot fully be exposed.

Also many are thinking from one point of view, US only, this evil is embedded globally. US is the first domino.

Have faith.”

Following the money will reveal the entire web of corruption going back many decades. It has always been the KEYSTONE.

Q drop

167

POTUS opened the door of all doors.

Expand your thinking.

What is the KEYSTONE?

Q

DOGE was planned for a long time.

By making Elon and his data investigators “Special Government Employees,” it allows them to access every department and agency.

Trump knew that when all of this theft of taxpayers money is proven, the American people will scream for justice.

Trump’s team didn’t just hit the ground running, they have hit the entire insurgency with an offensive “blitzkrieg” that they never expected.

They have called Trump “Hitler” for eight years and now he’s hitting them with another boomerang.

Blitzkrieg

Military tactic calculated to create psychological shock and resultant disorganization in enemy forces through the employment of surprise, speed, and superiority in matériel or firepower.

Aren’t the democrats and RINOS in shock and don’t they look totally disorganized?

Why were they so unprepared for this complete dismantling of their entire corrupt system?

Q told us.

“She was never supposed to lose.”

Here’s a Q drop by Trump himself. Trump is Q+.

Q drop

1834

THEY NEVER THOUGHT SHE WOULD LOSE.

NOW THEY ALL LOSE.

Q+

When Trump won the presidency in 2017, the game was over.

Here’s a portion of

Q drop 2

“POTUS knew removing criminal rogue elements as a first step was essential to free and pass legislation.

Who has access to everything classified?

Do you believe HRC, Soros, Obama etc have more power than Trump? FANTASY.

Whoever controls the office of the Presidecy controls this great land.

They never believed for a moment they (Democrats and Republicans) would lose control.

This is not a R v D battle.

Why did Soros donate all his money recently?

Why would he place all his funds in a RC?

Mockingbird 10.30.17

God bless fellow Patriots.”

Trump chose to play the long game because he knew that just removing all of the insurgency, without first exposing all the corruption, would be a high risk for civil war.

The enemy desperately wanted a civil war because that would help them to escape justice.

This is why some of those big influencers on social media were attacking Q followers.

We “trusted the plan” and they were trying to get the American people to arm themselves and rise up to take on the government.

They failed...

I know a lot of people will call me crazy among other things because they think dates came and went with nothing happening... Well what people failed to understand is those so-called dates, we're NOT dates! They were chapters and paragraphs in the "Law of War Manual." I have posted about it before.

I can't change anybody, change is your job🤔

[kaeyas-beloved]

baking + roommates || Leon Secret Santa || gift for @chesue00

cw: gn!reader, re2r!Leon, strengthening friendships with like… a crush mixed in there, au where there was no zombies and Leon got to be happy in RC as a rookie :3 tooth rotting fluff make sure to book a dentist appointment

I like to think Leon can cook well enough but can’t bake for shit <3 he gets flour EVERYWHERE

Anyway, I hope you like what I’ve written (it’s my first time writing Leon so I’m hoping he’s not too ooc + I haven’t written in some time so I might be a little rusty :(() and thank you so much to the people behind @leonsecretsanta for hosting this event :>

Leon had his fingers and toes crossed, knocked on any wood surface and whispered prayers that he’d been signed up for something simple. It's his first Christmas at the station and, as tradition, the staff were throwing a small holiday party. Everyone had a part to play, picked from a hat that acted more like decoration than its intended use, and when the time came to pull names, Leon, of course, got the only thing he couldn't do: baking.

And he couldn’t even just buy some sweets either! "Against the rules," his fellow officers said, which was fair, but definitely put the rookie between a rock and a hard place. So that’s why he’s here, staring intently at his phone, a short, kind text to his roomie that he hoped didn't relay how desperate he was. Hey, do you by chance know how to bake?

He sure hopes you do. You’re really his only hope for this. It’s not like he has a spouse or mother like his coworkers that he could go to for help. Hell, he doesn’t really even have any friends in this city yet!

The vibrate in his hand makes his heart beat faster than he’d like to admit, and as he reads what you’ve responded with, Leon couldn’t help but do a little mental cheer.

I do actually. Why, you wanna learn and butter up your police buddies?

— — —

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised at how close your tease was to the truth, but the main point stood: Leon wanted to learn how to bake, and you were more than willing to help.

Honestly, bonding with your roommate wasn’t on your bingo card this year, what with how different your schedules were. You barely saw each other throughout the day, and when you did it was always quick hellos and good mornings. So to finally experience the ‘roommate experience’ you’d hear so often in media, you were pretty stoked.

The door opened just as you were finished pulling out everything you needed, that familiar soft and friendly smile greeting you as he walked through the door.

“Hey,” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up a little more once Leon spotted you. Blues the colour of snowflakes scanned behind you at the collection of ingredients and baking tools, “thank you. Again, I mean, I know it was a little… a lot of a short notice. I really appreciate it.”

The smile you gave back was much like his, soft and kind, “it’s not a problem, really. I hope cupcakes is sufficient enough for the party?”

“More than enough,” Leon replied, a small, relieved breath leaving his lips. After setting down his work bag back in his room and freshened up a bit, the blond returned to your side, glancing curiously over your shoulder at the cookbook you were reading. You’re not sure if he noticed, but the proximity had you tensing just a little. Not out of uncomfortability, but rather because he was just so close and so warm and hot damn he smelt good too. You’re almost tempted to ask what cologne or soap he uses, only to bit your tongue, feeling it too weird to ask such a thing.

“Alright, so, baking is pretty easy as long as you got the recipe to follow and some common sense,” you started, moving on from the momentary fawning you had, pulling the metal bowl forward and handing it to him, “but there are some tips to it. Like starting with all the dry ingredients first.”

You sounded so sure, so confident, Leon thought, and it had him thinking it made you just a little more attractive. He’s sure he’d think the same if you’d been stuttering over yourself, but watching you take charge and teach him felt almost natural to him. He liked to learn and follow by example.

Leon gave his full attention as you showed him all the little tricks with baking, like how to properly measure dry ingredients, which measuring cup to use and so on. It was a lot, but he was a fast learner, something you commented on as well, which boosted the blond’s ego minimally.

He was only pulled out of patting himself on the back for appearing competent in front of you after you handed him the electric mixer with just the order to mix the dry ingredients. Well, how hard could that be? Sure, he’s never used one, but he’s seen people use them on the television. So, he tilts the bowl a little, sticks the beaters in and turns on the blender.

You caught him a second too late, the sound of the mixer drowning out the call of his name. And just like that, your roommate has covered himself in an almost comedic amount of flour.

Leon shuts the mixer off, and it’s silent between the both of you for a moment, as if it’s taking him a moment for the events to sink in. And boy when it does, he looks to you with an apologetic smile that’s some kind of mix between sheepish and dorkish.

“Ah-ha… sorry,” you didn’t think he could get any cuter, but the you spotted a faint blush on his cheeks. That was enough for you to crack, the sounds of your laughter filling the small kitchen.

Well, he didn’t expect you to laugh, but that’s better than you sighing deeply and being irritated with him. And honestly, it is a harmless situation, so he couldn’t help himself when he started to chuckle alongside you.

“I know it’s your first time baking, but the flour is suppose to stay in the bowl, Leon,” you say, your giggles dying down finally, though your smile remains. God, it’s been awhile since you had this much innocent fun.

Leon settles down too, wiping some of the flour from his face, glancing down at his powdered covered hand. “You don’t say,” he says, and without even thinking he flicks that excess flour at you, the lighthearted moment momentarily relaxing him as if he was with a good friend.

Leon felt his heart stop - now why did he do that? Why did he do that!? Sure, you two are friendly, and he’s sweet on you a little, but you’re not exactly that close. What he just did is what good friends playfully do.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-,” his awkward rambling is silenced by a return fire, a puff of flour from the bowl adding to the existing sheen of white already on him. When he cracks his eyes back open he sees you biting back another laugh, residue on your fingers pinning the crime on you, “okay, I deserved that.”

“Damn right you did,” you smiled, teeth and all. You really were just a ray of sunshine, bright and happy. Leon couldn’t have won the roommate jackpot better than he did with you - you’re fun, have a sense of humor, and super kind. “Next tip about baking: shit can get messy.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Leon agreed, wiping more of the flour off, this time brushing it into the sink. Most of it landed on him, so clean up wouldn’t be a huge pain in the ass, but clean up comes last cause a new mess is never off the table.

“Mhm, now, let me show you how to actually mix things without painting the kitchen in grains of sugar that’ll stay for weeks,” gently taking the mixer from him, you position it in the bowl, turning it on the first level (unlike him who put it on max), and begin to mix. “See how I’m not covered head to toe?” you tease, twisting the bowl with one hand while handling the mixer in the other. Leon chuckled under his breath while nodding. Something told him you might tease him about this for a long while.

After a few moments you stopped and handed it off to him, “now you try.”

As you suspected, he picked it up easily enough after watching, so well that you mentally patted him on the back. It was smooth sailing after that, mainly just following the recipe and mixing everything. You made sure to comment here and there about under mixing and over mixing and where the sweet spot was for this process.

With the batter poured in the tin and stuck in the oven, all that either you or Leon could do was sit and talk for a little. “You know, this has been pretty fun. Who knew, right?”

“It can be frustrating too, but yeah, overall, baking is fun,” you agree, “some even do it for that precise reason, because they find such joy in it.”

To Leon, that made sense, and he could see why a lot of people were like that. “Do you? Find joy in baking, I mean,” he found himself asking, not just to keep the conversation going, but because he found himself actually wanting to learn more about you.

You shrug a little, “to an extent. I don’t bake often, but there’s always the reward when what I make comes out good.”

He nods again, and a sudden question slips from his lips, “would you be willing to bake with me again?” He asked, a lopsided grin on his face. It was clear though he was a little nervous to ask, “without the mess, of course.”

Of course, you were a little surprised. You didn’t think this would be a reoccurring thing, yet you remember how fun it was to teach him, and the small moment you had with him. Perhaps he enjoyed his time with you as much as you did? You felt like you grew closer with him too, and you wanted nothing more than to be a real friend to him.

“Yeah… yeah that would be nice. I’ll show you how to make cookies, how about that?”

“Okay. Yeah, I’d like that,” he nodded, his smile widened a bit. He was looking forward to it, he gets to learn a skill, spend time with you and gets to see you in your element. It’s a win all around.

The next day when Leon brought in his share of the party, everyone teased him a little on the poorly iced cupcakes (you threw him in the deep end once they cooled, something about how his colleagues would think he ‘cheated’ by getting someone else to make them if they didn’t look like a newbie baker made them) but despite their appearance, everyone said they tasted good.

Leon was all too happy to reply that his friend and roommate helped him.

And, of course, he thinking about how much he was looking forward to making those cookies with you too someday soon.

[reneedenoailles]

Un Désir Assassin.

first entry for the rc-catalog valentines event !!

decided to go with the prompt unrequited love for feb 2.

fandom: vying for versailles. pairing: renée/alexandre. (unrequited.) rating: M. word count: 1270 words. trigger warnings: unhealthy obsession, mentions of murder, stalker behavior. MC: isabelle, hedonism path, single, unrequitedly obsessed with the valet. summary: he's got those eyes that drive her crazy, and she's got eyes to watch him sleep. or, a treaty on obsession. special taglist: @liykaii (who made the banner thank you so much, love you kiki <3)

Sigh. He couldn't find the words. Bent over his letter, he continued to mindlessly dip the feather in the inkwell — before his eyebrow raised. Did he just hear a creak ?

Wordlessly, he turned around in his chair. Had he not been the spymaster that he was, the rustling would've gone unnoti—

"Isabelle."

One simple name spoken into the air. And yet, that was enough. The rustling got louder, clearly an attempt from the duchess to hide as he stood up, in his shirtsleeves.

"There is no need to hide. What are you doing ?"

Truth be told, this was a rhetorical question. He knew what she was doing, he knew why she was here. That being said, he didn't like it one bit.

That's when Isabelle, despite her attempts, finally revealed her hiding spot from under his bedsheets, dusting off her gown.

"I got lost."

"And, let me guess — tripped, fell into my bed, which followed to my sheets being possessed by who knows what devil trying to murder you ?"

...Perhaps Isabelle should have thought of a better strategy, or at least a better excuse. She stood there, embarrassed about being caught — but the flush of shame on her cheeks was quickly overtaken by a flush of desire.

She wanted him. She needed him. It ate away at her — the fact that he was never responsive towards her advances, she couldn't help but wonder if the problem lied within herself or within himself.

What could he not want ? She was beautiful, young, witty, wealthy — Oh my god. Perhaps he wanted someone else.

That's when her desire was replaced with burning hot jealousy, raging in her green eyes. Had someone else ensnared him ? She had to find a way to —

"Mademoiselle."

His stern voice snapped her out of her reverie, looking up at him, unable to hide her scowl.

"You can't deny what has grown between us, valet."

"Between us ? The only thing between us is the king, whom we both serve. There is no us, Isabelle."

"No us ? So I mean nothing to you ?"

"That is not what I —"

"Are your eyes set on someone else ?"

She sharply asked the question, threateningly taking one step closer to him, then another — Alexandre backing away in response, his back against the table which she kept him pinned against.

Her chest pushed against his, her eyes throwing daggers. How she wished she could take one of those daggers and stick it through his heart, tear it apart, piece by piece to see what preoccupied it.

Silence followed her question — and to her, that could only mean one thing.

She was right.

SHE WAS RIGHT !

Usually, she loved being right — but not this time. This time, she had been hoping to be wrong.

Meanwhile, Alexandre silently mused over what Isabelle could be thinking about, brewing up in that brain of hers — nothing good, at least that's what he was sure of.

"No."

He responded, his heart being... troubled. He knew he wasn't in love — so why was that word so... uncertain ? He wasn't unsure, was he ? Of course he wasn't — Louis didn't want him to fall in love, so why would he ?

Clearing his throat.

"No."

"You hesitated."

"Get out, mademoiselle."

He frowned at her, trying to appear threatening, but knowing that in front of her determined gaze, he could crumble.

Silently swallowing.

The silence was palpable, you could cut through it with a butter knife.

"I'm afraid you've had too much wine at the Prince's party," He said, fully aware that she was sober, trying desperately to hang onto the slight hint of rationality that this situation could benefit from. But part of him knew it was futile — you can't explain this situation with logic. The heart wins over the head, and the head falls in defeat.

"And I fear you long for a closeness that is not the one we should have."

"Is my status a problem ?"

"The problem is that I don't love you, Isabelle. And I fear your desire for closeness is leading you to see things that aren't there."

So he was calling her crazy. That's how he wanted to play it. Okay. She backed away, tempted to throw everything, grab a letter opener and stab him — or maybe grab him by the hair and throw him face first into the fire of the chimney ! No one makes a duchess feel this humiliated — especially not Isabelle de Noailles of all people.

But she stopped. Despite her spontaneous desires of destruction, she restrained herself. This was not over. He would love her, one way or another. This idea that his heart had been stolen by someone else bothered her a lot. He was hers. Hers ! HERS !

If she couldn't have him, no one would.

Turning away — not saying goodbye before she left for her room, feeling her heart break.

She had known many lovers. Many men, and women, who she could bed with. And yet, her eyes reserved themselves to him — the one thing she couldn't obtain. Did the gods enjoy toying with her like this ?

Isabelle made her way back to her room, to hopefully get the Moon's advice, and a good night's rest. She couldn't believe that she had — crumbled like this, in front of him ? How she wished she could undo it. It killed her that she couldn't have everything she wanted, as much as she tried. Wine, parties, dancing, arts, beautiful gowns and expensive jewelry — all of those meant nothing if she couldn't be with the man she loved.

But someone else would.

With that lingering thought running through her head, she went to bed.

Meanwhile, Alexandre's chest heaved up and down, looking around the room, slowly sliding to the ground.

His knees felt weak. His breathing was uneven. He didn't want to admit it — especially not to Isabelle — but he feared for his life in that moment. And rightfully so, the mademoiselle's hedonism was something to fear. Besides, he knew she was capable of disposing of him if she so desired. Desire is a powerful force, and so is lust — Louis of all people knew it best.

Louis. What would he do, without Alexandre ? Had he died, would he have missed his faithful valet ? Would he mourn ? Be sad, attend his burial ? Even organize one for him ? Or would he simply not bother ? Replace Alexandre as he does with all his other mistresses ? Why would he compare himself to those women ?

And yet, thoughts creeped in intrusively. What would it be like, to have Louis of all people miss him ? The driving force of France, missing him ? Begging for him to be back if he were gone ? Wearing black for his valet ? Why could he not push all repulsive thoughts away from his brain ?

Standing up, wiping his hands over his shirtsleeves, as if they were dirty, as if he was trying to get something off of them.

And that's when he realized. Something brutal, something he couldn't deal with, something that he was never going to admit. Something that would change the way he looked at himself in the mirror for the rest of his life.

Staring at the letter he was writing in horror, the feather dipped in ink suddenly resembling the golden apple that caused the Trojan war, lasting for ten years, destroying so many lives in the process, ending with the burning of the city.

He felt his eyes burn, each word on that letter addressed to the king changing, making him pale in terror.

He knew who he loved, and it wasn't Isabelle, or any courtier.

It was the King himself.

[mo0nfairy]

I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

[strangespinapple]

RC ~ When It Hurts

Rafe Cameron x FemReader

Blurb: you and rafe are together. and lately he's been acting differently so you confront him. but what happens when you find out he's been lying to you?

Warnings: angst, making out, cheating accusations, dark rafe (coming soon)

Word Count: 723

A/N: hey so I was planning on posting an entire fic with smut and everything when the poll was done, but I had to put my cat down. i've had her for 10 years and she was literally my best friend, so I've been taking some time to grieve. but I figured that I should post a blurb so that y'all can have something to read while I continue to work on the rest of the fic, and maybe just maybe a part 2 and 3 🤷🏽‍♀️. Enjoy!

P2 Here

Song Inspo: Hurts So Good by Astrid S

You and Rafe are the outer banks it couple. The minute you became his, you became the kook princess. There was nothing you could ever want for, and nothing anyone would ever deny you. The entire island knew you were Rafe's and he was yours. When you and rafe first began dating it was everything you could ever dream of and so much more. But it didn’t take you long to see the dark, ruthless, and impulsive side of him. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things, a complex puzzle you are still trying to figure out.

For the past few weeks Rafe has been acting really weird. Normally he would be glued to your side and be at your beck and call 24/7. But lately he has been out all hours of the night and barely saying two words to you. He’s even been hiding his phone from you. Whenever you would enter a room or sit next to him, he would put his phone face down or tilt his phone to the side so you couldn't fully see the screen. You know your intuition is trying to tell you something, but you didn’t want to invade his privacy by going through his phone. So you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and ask him about his behavior. 

You were laying against the headboard reading your book, when rafe walked out of the bathroom heading toward y'all's shared bed. 

“We need to talk” you sighed as you put your bookmark in your book and placed it on your nightstand table. 

“About what?” He plopped down next to you. 

“I need to ask you a serious question and you better be honest with me.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Okay.” 

“Are you cheating on me?”

Rafe’s face drops a little, then he quickly regains his composure. But not without you noticing it first. 

“No, are you kidding me? How could you accuse me of something like that?” 

His face scrunched up with a look of hurt and shock on it. You kept your same expression, not fully believing him. 

“I’m not accusing you, I'm just asking you a question. You don’t spend time with me anymore. You act like you’re too busy to speak to me. You hide your phone from me, when you never did that before. You’ve been out all hours of the night and I just feel like you’re hiding something from me.” 

“Baby it’s because I am hiding something from you.” 

You turned your body towards him while raising your eyebrow. He places his hands up in defense and innocence. 

“I’m planning a surprise for you. I know I’ve been working so much and I wanted to do something special for you.” 

You could tell by the emotion in his voice and the look of hurt on his face that he was telling you the truth. You felt your heart sink into your ass, instantly feeling guilty. Overall Rafe is a really great boyfriend, way better than your ex, and you just accused him of committing a serious offense against your relationship. 

“Rafey I am so sorry. Please forget I said anything please. I’m so stupid.” 

You placed your hand on top of his, gently squeezing it. Rafe takes both of your hands in his, and holds them up to his lips and kisses them. 

“You are anything but stupid. I know how suspicious it seems, but I need you to believe me when I say I am not cheating on you.” 

He let go of your hands and brought his hands to both sides of your face. He caressed your jaw, while his thumb rubbed back and forth on your cheeks, staring deeply into your eyes. 

“I would never hurt you like that. I love you too much to lose you.” 

“I'm sorry baby.” You stared at his lips as he did the same to you. 

“I know. I’m sorry too, but we’ll be okay. I promise.” 

He pulled your face closer to his and captured your lips in a cultivating kiss. It started off slowly and passionately, filled with love and raw emotions. 

If only you knew it was all a lie. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things and unfortunately for you, a liar is definitely one of them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

P2 Here

A/N: thank you guys so much for reading my very first fic!! let me know if you guys would like a part 2 or if you would like me to make this into a series.

I have so many ideas for this fic and for many others. I'm still learning how to navigate Tumblr as a writer but soon I will be taking request for blurbs or full fics and have a fully functioning masterlist.

please leave a like and/or a comment I will respond back. Any feedback is appreciated BUT BE NICE cuz I will bite back 😉

[dykedvonte]

omg hi if it wouldn't be a bother i'd love if you could expand on your perspective on curly's character representing how patriarchy, rape culture, etc, negatively effect men?

I think Curly is there to represent the idealic person for the scenerior but in a lot of wrong place wrong time and a sort of deconstruction.

Curly’s enabling is never just the “He wouldn’t do that, he’s my friend, I know him.” type. Yes, he is not nearly as concerned as he should be with Jimmy’s behavior but he’s not completely blind to how he can be and is aware that Jimmy is just a guy who had it rough. He clearly is very keen on keeping Jimmy calm for the trip, very accommodating to all of them in a way that he honestly should be but can be used to explain away favoritism. If everyone can get away with a little something than it can then be extended to Jimmy. A big problem of Curly’s is he extends to much curtesy to everyone which a lot of people ignore to just focus on Jimmy and his relationship.

In specifics of rape culture, he’s the sad truth of people don’t immediately cut off the abuser. There is a lot of this in irl cases that can range from the inability to open the selfish not wanting to but here it’s because his relationship with the abuser is also not healthy/abusive, falling into the former with how confined they are despite how it can be seen as bros protecting bros due to how underplayed emotionally unhealthy relationships between men can be. His relationship with Jimmy is not just one of wanting to protect him from himself but keeping him docile, safe to bring around others. There is a tension in almost all of their private scenes where Curly is trying hard to make sure his words are understood and don’t set him off. It’s subtle but real and an aspect of RC that gets overlooked when it’s comes to men coming forward themselves or on behalf of others. The way they can’t directly oppose each other because their safety may be the least of their concerns. They know men and in this case he knows this man won’t target him but the others, especially Anya, case point: not wanting her to tell Jimmy alone.

There is an inherent intimidation that can also happen in male spaces we see Jimmy use due to the specific social condemnation effect he has with Curly. Even if he is a bad friend to Curly, he is a dear friend and a lot of apprehension with men on the side of Curly in RC comes from that social anxiety, that fear and the very real idea you or the person you were trying to help will be further retaliated against/isolated just like we see happen to an extreme in canon. We don’t know how much Curly and Jimmy interacted between the party and the crash. We can assume they didn’t at all or perhaps went on as normal, but we know something changed after the conversation with Anya both at night and in the cockpit.

I think the card being in the locker shows he was gonna make the complaint, taking her ID to get her numbers for the report as it isn’t there before hand. With the recent reblog of how complaints have to be filed, he was likely storing it, possibly it was close to a time he could send something if it was even possible. Though everything was inevitably too late.

Curly is the ideal man on paper in terms of a patriarchal system. In shape, handsome, the top of the pecking order, competent or otherwise on top of his perineal duties. The issue is he is deeply unhappy just as someone like Jimmy who reflects all the negatives. This should be what he wants but he’s realized it’s unfulfilling, boring and he’s given up too much of himself to get up a ladder he doesn’t even remember why he climbed in the first place. He is not keen on keeping that status, I am a contrarian in thinking he honestly didn’t care if the report when on his record, more so he was in shock it happened at all. Didn’t want to believe his friend actually did it and he of all people would have to be the one to turn him in for it. It’s selfish and it’s a personal thought but it’s real. It’s denial because even if you know it’s for justices sake, you grieve the friendship you had and the perceptions that were shattered. It’s not supposed to sound good or noble or kind because it isn’t, it’s human.

All together I think Curly represents a big way these systems negatively affect the men that everyone assume benefits. He’s unhappy with the power he has because it ties him to responsibilities that bring him no fulfillment, he also gets retaliated against by Jimmy because he was never immune and in a way was aware of it. He’s unequipped and nervous to handle such a delicate situation because it isn’t protocol, there’s no protocol. He followed the rules of all the concepts mentioned, trying to do the right and normal thing and it either left him with nothing to show for it or damned him and others in the end.

This is a shorter post than I would write but I just feel like I’ve tackled these aspects so much individually or in lumped together posts that unless it’s something specific I will just create run on tangents.

[romance-club-daily]

What's the truth? HS2 Edition~

May/2023

VK

Not Adi and Sammy dying again 💀

[webanglikethat]

Hiiii just wanna say this is a slay blog (got all my interests, from Conan to kpop to rc to Taylor to GTop... ANYWAYS can you yap about Conan? Anything about Conan you feel like you could write a PhD only /lh. Have a nice day!

omg hi !!! are we like platonic soulmates? I can't believe we like all the same things !! that made me so excited <33

also omg you can't just ask me to yap cause I WILL shortcircuit and forget everything /j /lh 😭

well we could talk about how the whole Kaishin accident of last year was .. Something.

Gosho HIMSELF stated that MK (Magic Kaito) and DC were in separate universes and were not canon to each other. one of the main differences between the two is that in MK magic actually exists, which I feel like would ruin DC's plotline (just think of the fake 'magic episodes' like the dog on fire episode).

-> so how do their crossovers work? don't ask me idk 😭

if I remember correctly, in MK it was even implied the Professor is the one who built Kaito's gadgets so like ???

I think Gosho messed up by not making these two worlds unite in the first place. I mean he did write MK first then gave up on it, but I still think he has made the plotline and worldbuilding flawed. he shouldn't have flat out said they were not relevant to each other. ofc he couldn't have foreseen how popular DC would become but still.

and his father being alive ?????????? TO BE FAIR we kinda knew that since like 2017 already BUT still ????

from the very beginning, Kaito’s whole reason for becoming Kaito Kid was to figure out the truth about his dad’s death. he thought his father was killed because of this shady organization that’s hunting for the Pandora gem, a magical stone that supposedly grants immortality. it’s a HUGE responsibility for a high schooler, but he took it all on because he loved his dad and wanted justice !!! like he is still just a child !!!! now the organization thinks HE is the original KID !! and he is in danger !!! but he won't give up !!!!!

and then they are like, “oh, by the way, Toichi faked his death and let Kaito think he was dead for years.” YEARS. do you know how damaging that is??? Kaito grew up grieving. he put himself in so many life-threatening situations because he thought it was the only way to honor his father’s memory. and now we find out that Toichi let his own son suffer through all of that on purpose? ON PURPOSE ?????

and yes, maybe Toichi had some big reason for faking his death. maybe he thought it was the only way to keep Kaito safe or whatever. I'm assuming it's gonna relate to the Organization plotline. but like guess what? it didn’t work cause Kaito still ended up in danger!!!!!! so good fucking job !!!! like you're telling me he is oh sooo good at masking himself and he couldn't have faked a new identity?

and you know who else failed Kaito? Yusaku Kudo.

he’s Kaito’s uncle, which means he absolutely knew what was going on. he knew about his 'death'. he knew Kaito lost a father. he knew he was grieving his dad. and what did Yusaku do? absolutely nothing. you're telling me that not even ONCE he went to see him? Toichi is still alive and in contact with Yusaku and that just . Is Okay to Them???

I mean does Yukiko know??

if they were cousins, why have they never tried to interact before? even if their families were distant, you’d think someone would have mentioned the connection. Yukiko was Toichi's student, she should have known about Kaito, right? but in every interaction we’ve seen, Yukiko talks about Toichi as if he was just her teacher, nothing more. no fond family anecdotes, no “Oh, how’s Kaito doing?”—just silence. if she knew they were cousins, wouldn’t she have at least acknowledged the connection? did Yusaku just . Lie to her??? for like what, 20+ years? if Yukiko and Toichi were related, she would have brought it up at some point especially since Yukiko is a bit of a gossip and loves to tease people (what a queen, I love her). you think she wouldn’t have mentioned her oh so pretty and charming nephew Kaito in all her dramatic flair? no way.

then there’s Kaito’s symbolic funeral for Toichi. where were the Kudo family members? if they’re actually related, how do you justify none of them showing up?

also agree with this point: post here

grief was/is a huge part of who Kaito was. this just cheapens everything.

it’s lazy writing, plain and simple. Gosho could’ve explored their connection in so many interesting ways without making Kaishin related. this also downplays Toichi/Yusaku's dynamic cause all the times Yusaku stopped Toichi he was just stopping his own brother lmao.

instead, he threw in a cheap twist that doesn’t add anything to the story and actively detracts from what was already established.

mfers when they see their nephew:

also I hate the 'oh they but look similar, how did you not know?' argument like;

mf this is them:

Gosho you will prey kaishin out of my DEAD hands (and I don't even care about this ship that much!). these two KISS on the MOUTH.

& let's be real: there’s no way Gosho can sweep this under the rug with some heartwarming reunion or throwaway explanation. his father can't just show up and be like 'Hi child! I am alive! let's get some food to eat and discuss your school grades'. I desperately hope it won't be some comedic relief situation, or a joke or whatever. this is DARK.

I suppose the worst part is that Kaito didn’t spend his life secretly hoping Toichi was alive or refusing to believe the evidence. he accepted that his father is dead. Kaito grieved fully. yk how there are characters that are like, 'no, my dad is alive! nobody belives me but please, I know it!'. that simply is not Kaito.

when Kaito finds out Toichi is alive it’s not going to be pretty. IT BETTER NOT BE. Kaito isn’t the type to have a “you’re back, I missed you” moment. I hope he's going to be furious because he’ll feel betrayed, lied to, and robbed of the years he spent mourning. he should be allowed to take a few swings at him tbh -

Gosho NEEDS to dive into the emotional consequences. if Gosho skips over that, it’s going to feel like a complete disservice to Kaito’s character. it needs to be ugly and messy. this can't be fixed immediately. it should be over few different ARCs imo.

another sad part is how Kaito pretty much lives in father’s shadow, trying so hard to live up to this idealized version of Toichi; a version that probably never existed in the first place because he doesn't know his father. he has to piece together the prettiest colours of his memories, from scraps of tales, fragmented news, and his own desperate need for a father figure. when your eyes forget your father's face, tinted glasses veil your orbs.

and in doing so, he put Toichi on this pedestal so high that he could never realistically reach it, no matter how good he actually became. and the worst part is, he DID surpass his father. yes, Toichi was undoubtedly skilled, but Kaito is doing all of this crazy fucking shit while being a teenager. fighting the organization, fighting pirates, risking his life MULTIPLE times? like that one time he almost was blown up in the train?

and Kaito doesn’t even realize it. he’s so fixated on this perfect image of his father that he can’t see how far he’s come. he can’t see that he’s not just living up to his father’s legacy—he’s surpassing it. and maybe to admit that he surpassed it would feel like a betrayal to his father.

I just hate this. you spend so much of your life idolizing your parents, because if you don't, then it also feels like a betrayal. you spend years justifying their mistakes, convincing yourself that everything will make sense someday, that they’ll come through, that they’re doing their best. you try to make sense of why they aren’t there when you need them, why they aren't the people you thought they were. and then the worst thing happens: you realize you’ve been holding onto an image of them that wasn’t real. and not only that, but you were the one who built it. you’re the one who put them on that pedestal in the first place, because you didn’t want to see them as flawed. you couldn’t afford to, because it would mean that everything you thought you understood about your relationship with them was a lie. you lose the last thread of control you had.

so then you paint the walls of your heart with this fantasy version of them, and you know deep down they could never live up to it. idealization is a double-edged sword. when you only see a person as perfect, you set yourself up for constant disappointment, because no one is perfect, and you’ll never be able to live up to the expectations you’ve placed on them cause people are messy and flawed.

so yeah, TLDR: Kaito deserves better. he deserves to be angry, to grieve the years he lost, the loss of normalcy, the loss of his teenage years, and to hold Toichi accountable for the pain he caused. whether or not Gosho will give him that remains to be seen, but if he doesn’t, it’s going to be a massive betrayal — not just to Kaito, but to the fans who’ve followed his story all these years.

in conclusion:

[k-hotchoisan]

congratulations for the 500 followers! it's my first time doing this, so how about number 7? 🥴 i won't regret anything because both of choices are my favorite

tia!

7. Sub Wooyoung or Dom Mingi?

Sub woo is always the right answer bestie 🫡🫡🫡

I don’t know what made me think of this but where we are???

Warnings: smut, pwp, sub!wooyoung, whining, unprotected sex, cream pie, oh god he whines so much, handjob, riding

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @hoe4wooyoung @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

K’s 500 this or that: Masterlist!

You turn a little more, watching the way the fishnet tights pull against your bare ass in the mirror before you. You tilt your head slightly, pursing your lips in approval before you decide to remove it. Truth of the matter was that you were obviously too lazy to put your underwear on after getting out of the shower when you saw the pair of fishnet tights you bought on the top of your clean laundry pile.

You are about to slide the pair of article off your body when your partner walks in.

And boy, does he have his eyes blown out seeing you in nothing but fishnet stockings. Wooyoung blinks, his legs automatically carrying himself to the bed, watching the way the stockings press against your supple skin, ass and pussy bare.

“Fuck me”, Wooyoung mutters.

You also watch the way his cock under his sweats push against the fabric—a small wet patch forming.

You can’t help but laugh. So you walk over to the bed, and straddle on his lap, your arms wrapped around his as you press your lips against his, parting to taste every part of him, feeling him melt into your mouth. He pushes himself further into the bed and his hands snake around your waist, only for you to swat them away.

“I’ll let you touch me if you be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself”, you say, giggling when you see Wooyoung nod his head frantically. His hands are paused mid air, his breath caught in his throat. He wants to touch you so fucking bad. He wants to rip those fishnets and fuck you so dumb in them. It’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t see you like this everyday, and that all the more drives his desperation.

You shift forward, until your cunt is right at his face and you gasp at the breath Wooyoung releases onto your pussy. Wooyoung already forgets the rule of not touching you, his hands aiming for your thighs, and you give him a soft slap on his hand, having him retreat immediately after, not before releasing whines.

His tongue immediately laps at your sopping cunt, like he hasn’t eaten in fucking weeks—pressing his tongue flat against your clit before he gives it flicks, then he has his lips pressed onto your cunt, kneading his tongue against your clit once more, your moans bouncing off the walls of the room only egging him on to let you fuck and ride his face.

Your fingers run through his hair before you tighten your grip, and Wooyoung whimpers at your tugs, feeling his cock leak more precum. His brain is melting at the way your pussy tastes, the way you don’t stop leaking for him and the whole idea of him just eating you out in your fishnet stockings.

“Fuck. That’s it baby. Right there”, you squeal, your hips automatically just riding his face. Your hands steady onto Wooyoung’s head, tugging his hair gently while you cream all over his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, and your eyes roll back from how Wooyoung is still fucking your cunt with his tongue, drawing out your orgasm as long as possible. You lean onto the headboard, catching your breath after releasing your grip from male below you.

Fuck, sometimes you forget how good Wooyoung is at giving you head. You gather your thoughts and snap yourself back to reality. Wooyoung has that smug look on his face that he always wears when he’s the reason you’re undone. Granted, he was pretty well behaved, keeping his hands to himself, but that only makes you want to tease him more.

You shift downwards, and press a wet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue as he moans into your mouth, while your fingers slowly wrap around his length, giving him short bouts of pumps, watching his pretty face contort into one of pleasure. His head is thrown back as his fingers hold onto the pillow, his whines starting to build as his bucks his hips to your hand. Every time you slow down, Wooyoung attempts to catch his breath, and you barely let him as your hands speed up. Wooyoung’s orgasm is building up dangerously fast. The back and forth teasing is driving him nuts.

“Y/n, a-ah! I wanna cum ngh, in you, please, ah shiit-“ Wooyoung sobs, and you see the way his abdomen is flexing whenever he’s so close, his eyes so glazed out from the pleasure, and his knuckles turning white from fisting the sheets.

You let go, and a long sigh of relief is released from Wooyoung, his hand slapping onto his sweaty forehead as he combs his hair back. Just when he thought he could actually catch a break, you slide yourself over him, taking his cock inch by inch, shutting your eyes from how much he’s stretching you out.

More curses come out from Wooyoung’s parted lips as he feels your walls completely engulf him, and he’s left twitching and leaking in you.

Maybe you’ll make him keep his hands to himself for a little longer, you think, as you lift your hips to start fucking his cock. Every time your cunt swallows his cock to the hilt, Wooyoung’s brain slowly goes short circuit, and you watch endearingly at the way he completely goes pussydrunk — eyes rolled back and eyebrows furrowed. At that point he could barely keep his eyes open.

You could only giggle at how much you adore seeing him completely fucked out like this, so you lean in, your stockings pressing onto his skin, and your tits pressing onto his chest, while your hand snakes to his jaw, giving his cheek couple of taps.

“Aw, is my Wooyoungie feeling too good?” You tease, fucking yourself on his cock. Wooyoung barely has the capability to answer. His eyes meet yours and he fucking swears he’s about to see stars.

“So good. Ugh. I wanna -fuck!- touch so fucking bad, please”, he whines, as he balls his hands into a fist. He’s been such a good boy for you despite the walking temptation you are. You press a soft kiss onto his jaw, then trailing downwards his neck, where you give an extra long and hard suck, drawing more whimpers out of him.

“Go ahead. Since you’ve been such a good boy”, you hum, stroking his hair. You know he isn’t letting himself cum because he wants to get his hands all over you, and sometimes it impresses you. Wooyoung’s breathing becomes more shallow and a sigh of relief echoes through the room when you feel his hands all over you, grasping your skin, and most your thighs desperately as he feels the fishnet against your skin. He lets his hands feel against your ass as you bounce off his cock.

“Cumming. Fuck!”, he cries, his fingers pressing onto your thighs as his body floods with a euphoric high, his cockhead filling your cunt with warm and sticky cum. Fucking hell, it was starting to make you go insane too, looking at the way he’s completely undone, his hair clinging onto his forehead with his eyes barely registering the environment around him, and his fingers still holding onto your thighs as he jolts from the remainder of his orgasm.

You slowly remove yourself off him, rubbing his thighs to soothe him, before preparing to leave to wash up in the shower. That is, until you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist, yanking you back into the bed. You could barely turn your head, now confused at the currently situation.

“I’m making sure I’m milking every fucking drop I have in me while you’re in that pair of fishnets, babe”, Wooyoung hisses into your ear, and you feel a familiar hard and wet appendage dragging down your barely covered cunt once more. “You’re not going anywhere.”

[ordinary-lab-assistant]

Pretenses

It's time for Dmitry x Lane #4! Part 1 is here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here.

Title: "Pretenses"

Summary: Called into the General's office to bandage the wounds she gave him the night before, Lane wonders—has the madness that gripped them last night passed, or will it take new form in the light of a new day?

Pairing: Lane x Dmitry [Heaven’s Secret: Requiem]

Word Count: 2,036

Rating: T

TW: None

Taglist: @rc-catalog

Pretenses

The walk from the training field to the building that housed Dmitry’s office was quick, but it could have taken an eternity. Lane spent the entire time carefully schooling her features into what she hoped was an impassive façade as an unpleasant fear of being exposed gnawed at the edges of her mind.

She wanted, needed, this to appear to be nothing but two colleagues, a squad member and her superior officer, walking together.

Every time she stole a glance at Dmitry, it appeared that that was what he wanted, too—he walked slowly, matching her pace, but he didn’t look at her. The calm, detached look she had gotten used to never left his face, every inch the untouchable General leading his subordinate through ordinary operations.

To an outside observer, nothing would seem amiss. A veteran of a childhood spent hiding her true feelings and play-acting at perfection while the truth rotted in the lonely corners of her family home, Lane considered herself an expert at revealing only what she wanted to. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering—if he were to look at her, would he see something she didn’t know how to hide?

She suspected that he, the only one in the squad who had managed to pull genuine reactions, genuine feelings, from recesses of her soul she thought she’d lost, just might. But what she couldn’t grasp, the question driving her mad, was what that something might be.

As they drew near the building, he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him into the lobby and up the stairs. She had climbed these stairs many times before, but never like this—every other time she had been called to the General’s office, there had been a professional pretense. She had entered his office as a squad member delivering progress reports or, as was the case last night, as a suspect in Noah’s disappearance. There had always been defensible reasons for her presence.

Today was different. Today, she was entering his office as a woman who had attacked him last night. A woman who had thrown herself at him and kissed him. And now, she had been explicitly invited to his office to bandage the wound she’d given him.

The door of his office closed behind them, and, steeling herself, she turned to face him.

Remember why you’re here.

Answers. The Book. Not for him.

*****

The training session hadn’t gone how he’d planned. He’d had every intention of treating this like any other training session he would have planned with any other new recruit, and those certainly didn’t involve orchestrating situations where he would have to touch them. Fall into the snow with them. Hold them against his body.

Reveal personal information about himself.

There was something about the way she looked at him with a carefully impassive face, but a question always lurking in her eyes. She needed something from him. What that was, he wasn’t sure, but a nagging desire to find out hadn’t left his thoughts in days.

Dmitry was no stranger to people needing things from him—as the squad’s leader, people needed things from him all day, every day. Orders, information, assurance. He gave it all, as easy as breathing. It was one of few things that made sense in his life nowadays.

With Lane, it was different. The only thing she had asked him for was information he didn’t have, and the only thing she had given him were more questions. She left him wanting, wondering, in ways he hadn’t experienced since before the apocalypse had begun to chip away at his humanity.

None of his painstakingly honed coping mechanisms worked with her—it was impossible to respond to her with the rote discipline that was enough for every other member of the squad. Even now, trying and failing not to watch her as he followed her up the stairs, he was reminded of that fact.

I should have gone first.

But he hadn’t, and so he watched her. The way her long hair swayed gently against her back, the way her hands brushed against her thighs, the way her muscles tensed and released as she climbed. And as the door shut behind them and she turned to face him, he realized, in a fatalistic sort of way, this isn’t going to go according to plan, either.

*****

Lane held her breath, feeling her heart skip a beat as her eyes met his. He was watching her—looked like he had already been watching her—with an odd expression on his face. Still alert, still cautious, but almost...curious. Like he had accepted something, and wanted to know what would happen next.

She wanted to know, too.

“There’s gauze and medical scissors in my desk,” he said, crossing the office to sit down tiredly on the old green couch. “Top left. Don’t go rummaging around, and don’t think of trying anything. They’re not sharp enough.”

She shot him a quick, searching look—did he really let me in here thinking I might attack him again?—but he looked relaxed, one corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. So she nodded, returning the smile, and went to his desk, where she quickly found what she needed. Unspooling the gauze, she cut off a length, then made a show of returning the scissors to the desk, loudly closing the drawer, and displaying her hands to him.

The playfulness of the moment quickly vanished, swallowed up by a strange, swooping sensation that flowed through her entire body, when she was rewarded with an indulgent look that almost thawed the ice in his eyes.

What is this feeling?

 Taking a deep, steadying breath, she approached him. She would have to get close to him, very close, to do this, and touch him in ways she hadn’t before. Softly, gently. Trying not to consider the implications of what she was about to do, the professional barriers she was about to consciously cross, she reached for him and tentatively touched the bandages.

Her fingers were icy against his neck, and he flinched, small tremors racing across his skin. She drew back slightly, watching his reaction to her, before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly, shifting back to where he was before.

Whatever it is, I’m not the only one feeling it.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them, before reaching out again and gently unwinding the bandage from his neck. There it was—the wound she had left last night. Her resolve crumbled as she stared at it, remembering—

Moving as one, lips crashing together—

Her back, pressed against the cool window—

A sharp bite, a jolt of life running through her—

Warmth, connection, understanding—

She bit her lip, searching for a distraction, then cursed herself as she realized that she couldn’t have possibly found a worse thing to take her mind off of last night. “I—” she fumbled, looking for something, anything. “Does it hurt?”

With an effort that looked almost palpable, he looked away from her lips and sighed. “No,” he said, a hand stealing towards the jagged scar on his left elbow. “I’ve had worse.”

She nodded mutely, wondering if she already knew the story behind that scar and who had given it to him, as she carefully wrapped a length of fresh gauze around his neck. Her fingers brushed against his skin often, and he didn’t lean away, didn’t stop her. He was just still, breathing evenly, allowing her to touch him.

Her task finished, she stepped back and cautiously met his eyes again. Almost immediately, another small jolt ran through her body—he was watching her again, his gaze calculating, as if he were trying to figure something out. Something about her. And as she returned his gaze, she realized, I don’t want to leave. I want answers, too.

Last night had brought nothing but more questions, questions she had turned over and over in her mind all day. Why had she kissed him? Why had warmth spread through her entire body every time he touched her? Why had he, so cold and detached, kissed her back, as if the distraction of the shattered lamp had been the only thing stopping him from ripping her clothes off right then and there?

Would I have let him?

Her eyes trained on him, waiting for a response, she moved slowly, carefully. First from his side to in front of him, then bolder—forward, in between his legs. He didn’t stop her, just tracked her movements with his intent gaze. She needed to know—will it be the same today? Or has this strange madness passed in the light of a new day?

He still wasn’t stopping her. Instead, his hands found her waist, touching her lightly. There was no strength in his grip, just a gentle touch that would have allowed her to step back at any moment if she wanted. But I don’t want that, she realized with sudden clarity. I want to know.

With her heart in her throat and vitality racing through her veins, she reached out tentative hands, one to his face and the other to his neck as she leaned down. There would be no going back after this—there would be no adrenaline, no pretense, to blame this on. There was only a conscious decision that she had made, and that he supported.

She kissed him softly, gently, slowly. He answered in kind, accepting this for what it was: a question, an exploration.

Can you help me feel? Can you help me understand what I’ve lost?

It seemed the answer was yes, as her body warmed and strange sensations swam through her head, too foreign for her to name but too tantalizing for her to walk away from. His lips were soft against hers, his hands tightening—don’t stop—around her waist. She sighed against his lips as a deep desire, more, rose in her, and she moved forward again, into his lap with one knee on each side of his body.

One of his arms looped around her back, pulling her in closer, as he raised his other hand to her hair, wrapping it around his fist. A soft “oh!” escaped her mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as she sighed into him.

As she touched him, explored him, tasted him, she realized—it’s not just the kiss. It’s him. His hands exploring her body, his tongue teasing hers, his lips warming her from the inside out—everything she thought she had lost began to coalesce, and for once, she felt hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to find what she was missing. To recognize herself again in the ruins of this strange new world.

To understand him and what drove him, and unravel her feelings for him.

She drew back at last, nearly holding her breath. She had begun to answer her own questions in his arms, but she had to see him—to know if he would regret having crossed this line with her.

His gaze was inscrutable as he looked up at her. He was still so close to her, his chest warm and firm against hers, his hands still resting on her back, his eyes searching hers. The only thing she was sure of was that there was no regret. She had seen that expression darkening his eyes before and didn’t recognize it now. There were traces of something else, something wild and fleeting that she couldn’t identify, but no regret.

“Lane...” he said quietly, her name falling from his lips like a secret. Then he fell silent, looking away.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do next?

“We don’t have to,” she murmured. “Not now.”

He looked at her again, relieved. “All right. Later.”

No, the madness hadn’t passed. It still gripped her, and him as well—and maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t actually madness at all, but something she had never truly felt before, something with new depths to explore. A mystery just as tempting as the Book, and perhaps just as dangerous, too—but one that she wanted to decipher just as badly.

With him.

[autumnscribbles]

truth part 2 | rc

pairing: bsf!rafe x reader

summary: rafe finds out about sofia’s betrayal, and tries to come back and apologize for his previous words

part 1

warnings: swearing, angst, unhappy ending lol

wc: 1.8k

a/n: thank you SO MUCH to everyone that showed love on the first part😭 i appreciate it so so so much!! i kept this one pretty angsty because i think we all wanted to see rafe not be forgiven! so it is open ended for a part 3 👀 if you guys wanna see it! lots of love 🫶🏻

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You were sitting on your wraparound balcony, book in your hand as you felt the sun warming your bare skin. It was another beautiful day out, and you wanted to take advantage. Your sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose as your eyes scanned the novel in front of you.

You were taken out of a trance when you heard a commotion going on nearby. It sounded like it was coming from the Cameron house, which sat next to yours. Sofia had been staying in it, so you've heard, despite Rafe being in Morocco. You placed your bookmark between the pages, setting it down before rising to your feet. You walked to the edge of the balcony, placing your hands on the railing to lean over it slightly.

You saw Sofia, walking outside with a suitcase dragging behind her. What was she doing? She went in and out a few times, each time returning with various different items that all must have belonged to her. You wanted to ask her what was going on, if it had anything to do with Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him since the fight you got into at his house, and he was gone now. In Morocco doing god knows what with the Pogues. You didn't care anymore.

A car pulled up in front of the intimidating large property, Sofia disappearing inside of it as it drove away. The house was empty now. The house you spent years walking over to, sleeping at, drinking at, now sat there vacant. Simple as that. Everyone gone. You reflected on how quickly things change, how easy it is for everything to fall apart so quickly. You had cried about your conversation with Rafe after it happened, but since that night you hadn't shed a tear. You loathed him for what he said to you, for blaming his own emotional damage on you. You had always supported him, been there for him even when he was a complete mess. Goes to show none of it mattered in the end, anyway. You didn't know when he would return, and you couldn't be bothered to try and find out.

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Rafe busted through the front door of his house, being met with nothing but deafening silence. The air sat heavy around him. It was just...empty. Sofia had actually left. He knew he told her to, but he was hoping deep down that he had been wrong. Maybe she'd stay and tell him Groff was full of shit. Her absence was confirmation that you had been right all along. He accused you of lying, of jealousy, and now he was eating his words.

"Fuck!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the counter in front of him, dropping his head in his hands. Everything was ruined. His friendship with you, his relationship, the deal. Everything slipped through his fingers so quickly, he couldn't keep up.

He decided he needed to talk to you, to see you again. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed you. When he was in Morocco, all he could think of was you. He was too proud to admit that, though.

"Please be home," he muttered under his breath as he turned back around and out the front door.

He walked up to the entrance of your home, banging his fist on the door loudly. He continued repeatedly until you finally swung the door open.

Your eyes met his, fighting to hold back a gasp. You weren't sure you would ever see him again, and here he was. He looked anxious, his eyebrows furrowing and his gaze roaming all over the place. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he looked at the floor.

"You were right," he practically whispered, his stare remaining off of you.

"What was that?" you asked, cupping your hand to your ear. You heard him, you just wanted to hear him say it louder.

"I said you were right, okay? About Sofia," he admitted. "She took the money from Hollis and convinced me to take the deal. I kicked her out, we're done."

You had to admit the words were good to hear. You already knew you were right, but it felt good to hear him admit it. You were starting to wonder if the truth would ever come out, or if Sofia would just keep going on like everything was fine. Rafe almost never admitted when someone else was in the right. It wasn't that easy, though. He had a lot more to admit wrong than just not believing you. Sofia wasn't even the issue anymore.

"Great," you said sharply, starting to shut the door. He stuck his arm out, holding it open.

"I said you were right, y/n," he repeated. "I should have believed you."

"Good for you," you said dryly. "I told you not to come crying to me when she fucked you over. That remains true."

Rafe let out a long sigh, frustrated at how difficult you were being. In the past, a simple apology would make everything go back to normal. Clearly, that wasn't going to be how it goes this time. He knew you could be stubborn, and it drove him insane. His arm remained extended, stopping the door from shutting. He saw movement going on behind you, and craned his neck to get a better view.

"What's going on?" Topper asked, appearing behind you.

Topper had dropped by this morning to bring you breakfast. You hadn't asked him to. You think maybe he felt bad for you, pitied you. You were alone in a big house, your family gone. Rafe was gone. You didn't need his cheering up, though, you were perfectly happy on your own.

Being alone for so long allowed you to be comfortable and even content in your own presence. You liked the quiet mornings, the long walks, and never having to ask anyone for anything.

"You-," Rafe stuttered. "You're hanging out with Topper?"

"And?" you asked, your jaw set as you blankly stared at him.

"You don't even like Topper," he whispered harshly, leaning towards you.

"Says who?" you said. "You don't know me anymore, Rafe."

He scoffed and took a step back from the door. He took a deep breath before speaking, knowing that maybe he should think a little bit more before he speaks.

He wasn't wrong, you didn't like Topper. He was arrogant and honestly kind of a baby most of the time. He was always whining about Sarah, or John B and it was getting old. You had been spending too much time alone, though. You knew people were talking. People were always talking. Hanging out with Topper would put out a good word, and he'd tell people you're fine. Maybe then people would stop asking. There wasn't anything going on other than friendship, but you didn't mind the company here and there.

"Are you just trying to make me jealous?" Rafe asked, his eyes finally fully meeting yours, reaching you.

"Are you serious, Rafe? Again?" you asked. You took a step outside, pulling the door shut behind you. You didn't want him in your home, especially not with Topper there.

Topper probably thrived on the drama, probably couldn't wait to go run to the other kooks and tell them Rafe showed up at your door. That aside, you had to give him a piece of your mind at this point.

"I am serious, y/n!" he exclaimed.

"Rafe, when will it get through your brain that not every decision I make is about you?" you asked. "Are you seriously so selfish and self absorbed that you think every move I make has to do with you?"

Rafe's mouth stayed slightly agape, his feet pacing back and forth on your walkway. He ran his hands over his head, his jaw clenching. His brain was going a mile a minute, and he couldn't find the words anymore. He was overcome with emotions, unable to regulate them.

"Do you not remember what you said to me, Rafe?" you asked, your voice raising.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said. "I was an asshole, and I should have believed you about Sofia. I shouldn't have said those things."

"What did you say again?" you asked, taking a step closer to him, your head held high. You would not back down this time. You wouldn't let him get away with it.

You tapped your chin with your index finger, looking upwards acting like you were trying to remember his words. "Oh yeah, that all I do is fuck with your head? That I want attention? That I use you for my benefit? That I'm a jealous liar? I almost forgot."

Rafe went to speak, but you cut him off again, immediately.

"Oh and I almost forgot," you sneered, sarcasm dropping from your voice. "That all your problems are because of me?"

"Y/n," he breathed, taking a visibly deep breath.

"Don't even say anything, Rafe," you said, putting your hand up to stop him from speaking. "If I ruin your life so much, and mess with your head, I don't need to be part of it. I'll live my life, and you live yours. You can do whatever you want, I don't care."

"I care, y/n!" Rafe exclaimed. "I didn't mean those things I-I was just angry. You know I can say stupid shit when I get mad."

"You can't just say awful things and take them back," you explained. "That's not how this works. You don't get to hurt me and then show up at my door thinking I'll forgive you because you 'didn't mean it'."

“Y/n, please,” Rafe begs, his eyes turning glossy. “You have to forgive me, I need you in my life.”

“Clearly you don’t, Rafe,” you sneered. “You told me otherwise, actually.”

“You can’t do this to me!” he said angrily, his emotions brewing and threatening to spill over. He hated when he yelled at you, but he was so frustrated. “Don’t do this.”

You couldn’t ignore the twist in your heart at the tears in his eyes. Usually you would fold, but you were determined this time. He hurt you, more than he ever had. You couldn’t let him off that easily. You were doing fine without him.

“I have to go,” you said, looking back to your house looming behind you. “Bye Rafe.”

“Please,” he repeated, his voice barely over a whisper. You closed the door, leaving him standing alone on your front lawn, exactly as he had done to you.

You still hadn’t decided if revenge was the best medicine, but it was the only way for him to listen. To truly listen. If he really cared about you, he would come back with a real apology, not excuses.

Rafe stood wide eyed, staring blankly in front of him. He bit his lip, the back of his throat burning as he tried to hold back tears. He hadn’t meant for things to happen this way.

You were all he had, the only person who really cared about him, and who he cared about. Now you were gone, and it was all his fault.

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taglist: @evermorx89 @glenpowellswifee69 @xxbirkindoll2 (🫶🏻🫶🏻)

[rcmclachlan]

RC whyyyyyy do people keep sending you asks or reblogging your snippet thinking tommy is drunk!?!?! He is clearly injured!!!!! That man is dying!!!!! He is desperate to have 5 more minutes with the love of his life because he thinks that's all he's going to get!!!!!!!!! I know you're tying to do the switcheroo and it's very clever because Buck would have no reason to think tommg is dying but he would thinks he's drunk (and he's going to be soooo normal when he finds out the truth) but I know!!!!! I know who you are and what you do and that man is buried in the crumpled remains of a helicopter with a head wound and a concussion. And I love that for us.

I hope this person is having an exceptionally good day