#she’s the reason it got so bad she’s the reason I ever even tried half the shit I took

[beauty-and-passion]

TMA - Chapters 101-110: Killing Jon is a national sport

Great news, everyone: we reached the 100th MAG and we’re officially in the second half of the TMA series!

We learned a lot until now, but there are still a ton of mysteries left, a Stranger to defeat, a ritual that will destroy the world, and a creepy puppet lady who (hopefully!) just wants to talk to Jon.

Let’s find out more.

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MAG 101 - Another Twist

Okay, I was expecting something to happen, but not this.

*

Nikola Orsinov is the best

I love how funny, cute and creepy she is. She’s a perfect package of fun - and the British accent makes her lady-like too, so she’s even more adorable.

Do you want proof of that?

Proof one:

She talks to Elias like a well-educated lady

The way she repeats “So, Elias, can I call you Elias?” is hilarious

Don’t worry, Nikola: maybe the other supernatural beings call Elias “The Eye”, but for a nice lady like you, I think he’ll gladly accept to be on a first-name basis.

She talks to Elias as if Jon is a toddler

Proof two:

But sure, of course my dear! Why search for a weird powerful skin everywhere, when you have a skin full of wet cat energy to use?

And also, why not kill Jon? This season is entirely dedicated to supernatural shit trying to kill Jon.

Proof three:

She disses Jon like a queen for his bad skincare routine.

If the Unknowing fails because of Jon’s bad skin, I will die laughing on the spot and TMA will automatically become best series ever.

*

Best Boyo is back for one reason and one reason only

And just when I asked myself if we would see a full skincare treatment, Michael appears. Finally, my boyo came back from… well, from wherever he was, I assume.

And why does he come back?

This is truly the season of supernatural shits trying to kill Jon! TMA is officially best series ever.

And what’s Michael’s reason?

He doesn’t want the Circus to win

He doesn’t want the Archives to win

He wants revenge for what Gertrude/the Archives/the Eye and his gang did to him

And speaking of this…

*

The Great Twisting

The Distortion and its acolytes tried to do a “Great Twisting” - which seems like what the Unknowing is for the Stranger.

It makes me wonder: is this a normal thing, for these supernatural entities, to try and “ascend” into our world through some sort of ritual? The Distortion tried through this Great Twisting, the Stranger is trying to do the same through the Unknowing: when will the Eye try to do the same? Did it already?

*

Gertrude’s plan and Michael’s role

Gertrude’s plan to stop this Great Twisting was simple yet effective: she forced the Distortion to incarnate. She gave it a physical body. And that made the entire ritual fall apart.

Makes sense. The Distortion is a force of the unknown, something unidentified: tying it to an identity, something clear, goes against its very essence, so it's understandable it would fail to "ascend" as Great Evil Godly Terror of Lies and Deceit and Unknown or whatever.

Now, I know Michael said that poor Michael Shelley (we finally got his full name!) was “disposable” and that’s why Gertrude sacrificed him… but honestly, I don’t think that.

Sure, Gertrude was probably ready to do anything to stop the Great Twisting and she was willing to sacrifice Michael Shelley. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t trust him.

If I were her and if I had to stop a powerful godly horror by giving it a physical body, I wouldn't pick someone just because he's "prepared" and "disposable". Even the most prepared guy could crumble and fail on a mission - or decide to not get the job done and run away. And disposable people are not a guarantee of success.

My main criteria would be to find someone I can trust. Someone I know won't mess things up. Someone who will follow my map to the end, do what he has to do and be strong enough to deal with the godly horror for years and years to come. Someone I can leave with the Distortion, knowing I can trust them with said god.

*

Becoming VS incarnating

It’s really interesting the difference in how the Distortion talks about the Great Twisting…

… vs how it’s like being incarnated:

Once again, it makes me wonder: is this what the Unknowing will be for the Stranger? A “joy of becoming”, something “crossing the threshold” into itself, as if the ritual is making the barrier between our world and theirs thinner? It’s fascinating to imagine how it would make an entity feel so good, so complete.

While speaking of incarnations, Jude, Michael Crew and even Jane Prentiss seemed to imply it was a great, marvelous feeling: they all talked about it as being finally complete.

But the Distortion describes it as something unpleasant. Could it be because the incarnation was being “forced” and not requested by the Distortion itself? After all, the Distortion wasn’t searching for Michael Shelley: it was Michael who went into it.

*

Micheal’s identity crisis

This backstory explains Michael’s confusion regarding his own identity much better, as well as why he keeps referring to himself as Michael, but also not as Michael. And it makes clearer why Helen resurfaces while Michael sinks in.

In a way, it kinda reminds me of a DID system, with personality states who are all part of a whole, but also moved by their own feelings and ideas. The Distortion seems to work the same way, even though the people inside it are not the ones they once were, but only shadows of them.

Speaking of Helen Richardson: when I checked MAG 47 to remember a bit about her, I noticed the first thing she did, was to draw a map. A fucking map of the Distortion she shows to Jon.

Could this be the reason why she managed to “resurface”? Because she also had a map, like Michael Shelley? That would be very cool.

*

Peter Lukas is back again

I knew these goddamn Lukas were always here, playing a role alongside the Eye and the Archives. Now we see another confirmation: Peter Lukas helped Gertrude against the Twisting.

Soooo… should we trust the guy? I don’t know, this family is too suspicious at this point.

*

The only one!

And finally, for the first time, a supernatural entity gives Jon a compliment.

After being told he’s a bad choice, he’s stupid, he’s rude and his skincare routine sucks, finally a supernatural entity tells him something nice.

Sure, it’s in between the “I’m going to kill you” discourse, but still counts.

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MAG 102 - Nesting Instinct

I can’t believe it: is Jon finally realizing Elias does nothing besides sitting on his lazy ass?

JON ACKNOWLEDGES ELIAS IS USELESS! The world is beautiful and I can’t stop laughing.

Ahahaha, he “overreacted”! He killed him live on tape and that’s what he considers “overreacting”! Oh my gosh, Elias, never change <3

But let’s put Elias being amazing on the side: we finally have more clues regarding the Unknowing! And it’s as fascinating as I hoped!

So, it’s a dance, with dancers and a “prima ballerina” (aka the “Danseuse Étoile”) which is our favorite creepy lady Nikola. This explains the skin too: of course, since it’s a ballet they’re staging, they need the right costumes and everyone should follow a specific role, do the right steps and keep the right position. I really want to see this ballet taking place and find out how Jon is going to stop it.

Ooookay, so Jon is getting omniscient superpowers. Which is good if you’re the Eye, but not so good if you still want to keep a semblance of humanity.

I said Elias appreciation time was over, but I lied: it’s always Elias appreciation time.

Also, bless Melanie for trying everything to kill the motherfucker. She has more balls than everyone else, I stan her. But I also stan Elias being alive and being a bitch, sorry Melanie.

So Jon calms her down, thus proving he’s now Elias’ bagman. They’re a weirdly powerful couple and I would love to see them together in action. But I also know that Elias loves sitting on his ass too much, to get up and be a man of action, so if they pair up together, I imagine Jon would be left on his own to deal with cosmic powers that want him dead. And since I don’t want him dead, it’s better if he’s paired with someone who can properly defend him.

But hey, I suppose my worries about his life will soon be over, because his cosmic, omniscient powers are growing even more. Now, he’s able to understand languages he never spoke before. I was just asking myself why this statement, when he revealed it was all written in French. Nice way to surprise the reader, Mr. Sims.

Okay, so the Hive (and its ilk) is part of the Filth. Gosh, I fear I will soon need a chart or a table of sorts, to put together every entity into their respective “family”. But I’m also scared to search for one now, because I don’t want to get any spoilers.

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MAG 103 - Cruelty Free

A statement about an evil, supernatural pig - possibly connected with the supernatural meat. But also not, because pigs can and will eat you, if you stand still a bit too long, supernatural or not.

And I’m pretty sure of that because my uncle has pigs. Luckily for him, his pigs have always been big cowards and run away as soon as they see a human getting closer to the pen. But considering how voraciously they eat and how easily they can break open fruits and vegetables, no matter how hard they are… yep, they would easily smash and crunch human flesh as if nothing.

So no, this statement isn’t much scary, but rather something that might happen anywhere, anytime.

Well, aside from the weirdly demonic possession that pushes you to open the cage and weird long gazes from a pig who wants to either kill you or become your bestie. I definitely didn’t expect the evil pig to snuggle with Mr. Anderson like a house cat. It was funny, though.

And right after that, we get a glimpse of how Jon’s omniscient powers are working (he knows Kurt Anderson will be useful) and especially how his “persuasion powers” are working.

I’ll admit it: it was pretty cool to see Jon release the wet cat energy, make his question and get the exact answer he wants. And yes, I know this shouldn’t be a good thing, because it only proves Jon is connecting to the Eye even more… but it’s so cool! He asked Kurt his darkest secret and used it to bribe him for those documents and he did it so well! Urgh, I know I should be scared for him, but the coolness is too much to ignore it.

Oh my, the best action couple is back! So Jon talks to Daisy in the tunnels beneath the Archives, because Elias won’t see them there. Why?

Oh my gosh, Elias does something in his life. He schedules. Schedules what, how much time he’s going to spend doing nothing, aside from watching everyone with his Eye powers?

Here it is, the constant of this season: everyone wants to kill Jon. If this man survives this season, he will survive everything.

Killing urges aside, Daisy will take care of things while Jon is away dealing with shit. My question is: why are you going away without telling anything to your colleagues, Jon? Hadn’t you realized you have to cooperate with them? Still trying to protect them from you and Elias, by keeping them away?

But I can also understand his choice: his colleagues all work there and if Elias can see and listen to everything, I don’t think there’s something that stops him from looking into their minds and simply knowing of Jon’s plan.

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MAG 104 - Sneak Preview

Oh my gosh, I was expecting Tim’s mental breakdown maybe, but not some of his background! And I wasn’t expecting to find out that Tim had a goddamn brother and he lost said brother to the Circus, because another evil clown stole his skin!

Again, this explains a lot: why Tim came to the Institute, why he knew about Robert Smirke’s architecture… and I’m afraid it tells us a lot about his future too:

If Tim had a “DEAD” sign on his head before, now the sign is flashing too. Tim is basically dead. RIP Tim, it has been a pleasure and an honor to know you.

But before dying, there is something Tim must still do, which is a wonderful back-and-forth with Elias:

I love Elias, but I love Tim too. He got my heart with the “statement of Joooe Spooky” from season 1, he still gets my heart with sarcasm.

And Elias tells Tim to stay away from the Unknowing. Uhm… very evil, I guess? I mean, he has eeeevil plans, but he’s also trying to save Tim’s life and ignore he’s already dead.

I think it just confirms Elias is the best.

But Tim doesn’t care: he knows he will die, so he’s trying to find a way to die, somehow:

It’s very sad I asked Elias the same thing two posts ago. But I suppose this just confirms my darkest fear: Tim will die. Maybe not because Elias will bash his head with a pipe, but he will. His days are numbered. And if he won’t die because of Elias, he will die by getting his revenge on the Circus.

And you know what? I would be okay with that. Because that would make Tim happy and if Tim is happy, I’m happy too.

Also, he will finally be able to rest and he deserves it.

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MAG 105 - Total War

Okay, so despite the promising title, this was an useless statement.

Sure, the imagery of the wandering soldier, followed by an army of dead people who keep killing everyone around him, while he waits for them to finally kill him too is interesting. But, again, it’s useless for the plot.

And I know Jon acknowledged it too, just like I know we needed him to go to the Pu Songling Research Centre because the author wanted to:

show us how far Jon is going, while following Gertrude’s steps

show us his powers are growing, because now he can understand all languages

casually tell us Gerard Keay is alive?

I mean:

"I’ve chased dead end to dead end until I finally give up. I-I mean, what am I actually looking for? Gerard Keay, after he faked his death? Some long confession he left tucked away in a library somewhere, telling me the ancient chant I need to stop the Unknowing from coming to pass?"

Sure, this may be just Jon making assumptions, rather than him using his powers of absolute knowledge to reveal that my man Gerard didn’t die of a brain tumor, but he’s still alive and well. I know all of that.

However, I still cannot understand why Mr. Sims (the author, I mean) wasted one statement like this. This isn’t the first time he has done that and he did it waaaaay more in the first two seasons. But why is he still doing it? It’s weird, coming from someone with such a big attention to detail.

My possible explanations are always the same:

he liked this idea and didn’t want to discard it

he needed some fillers to reach the number of 120 episodes for season 3

this statement is somehow useful?

Even though I really doubt the third point is correct, because there have been some statements in seasons 1 and 2 that have been completely useless. Unless they all reconnect somehow by the end of the series, I doubt we will remember or consider them anymore.

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MAG 106 - A Matter of Perspective

And just when I was ready to talk about space and solitude and this humongous creature that makes me think hey, maybe that’s the Vast… I get hit by a train of things happening all together.

Let’s start from the statement: Jan Kilbride was a familiar name, in fact Gertrude mentioned him in MAG 99. What happened to this guy? Well, aside from the weird space thing.

And speaking of that… since he talked about “existential vertigo” I felt the Vast was involved. Then “Mr. Fairchild” was mentioned and that only confirmed that yes, this is the Vast.

Mr. Fairchild chose this guy by referring to his psychiatric profile? Now I’m 200% sure there is a supernatural entity involved, this is the Vast and Mr. Fairchild was probably trying to find a new avatar for it. I mean, fucking Elias did the exact same thing and every other evil mastermind like him picks the right people by checking their psychiatric/psychological profiles.

So poor Jan Kilbride experienced the Vast the same terrifying way Robert did in MAG 21. Luckily for him, he wasn’t eaten by the universe like Robert was eaten by the sky, but it was pure luck, probably. Or maybe the universe returned to claim him, since Melanie couldn’t find anything about him and Gertrude mentioned him.

And just when I thought this was all, we got the best parts of the episode:

1) Gossip time

So let me get this straight: Martin’s crush is so obvious even the newcomers realized it 20 seconds after he introduced himself?

And they’re casually discussing Jon’s virginity like this? I am dying, please send help.

And then, as if the juicy gossip wasn’t enough, Melanie reveals Jon and Georgie used to date in the past?! So Georgie isn’t just a friend, she’s Jon’s ex! I hope Martin doesn’t know Jon hid at his ex’s house, or he would probably find a way to send another supernatural shit after her.

Don’t look at me like that: Martin is a cinnamon roll, but he’s also fucked up enough to do it.

Anyway, glad to know Jon and Martin are the canon couple. They’re not yet, sure, but it’s a matter of time. Sooner or later, these two will end up together and I can’t wait for it. I just hope Martin won’t kill Jon’s ex in the meantime.

2) Elias’ performance review

Elias pretends to do his job: that’s hilarious just like that.

But hey, once in a while, even Elias does something, so why not do Melanie’s performance review?

He asks Melanie how she find her job - aside from “being forced to stay here, trapped by a psychopath”. So it’s basically like every other job, I suppose she doesn’t have much else to say.

Melanie tells Elias he “sat up here lurking”, which is just a nicer way to say “You sit on your ass 24/7 doing absolutely nothing”. Glad to know everyone is acknowledging Elias’ uselessness, I said it since season 1.

In pure Pinky and the Brain style, Melanie does the same thing she does every night, which is plotting Elias’ demise.

MELANIE TOO CHALLENGES ELIAS TO KILL HER! Oh my god, what’s with all those characters and death wishes? Stop asking to get killed!

Ivy Meadows from MAG 36! Glad to see all characters are reconnecting to some places and/or previous statements!

So Melanie’s father died there, killed by that thing inside (the Filth?). And since Elias is a good boss and a caring guy, he wants Melanie to know the truth, so he fucking shows her the horrible way her father died.

And he threatens her to haunt her forever with that knowledge, if she doesn’t stop interfering.

Now, I know I said Melanie must be protected at all costs… but come on, this guy is an absolute bitch, how can I not stan him? Just look at this smug bastard, how he goes from being terrifying, to pretending to care with the “Oh take your time, take the day off even!”, to a hint of a devious smile when he says her performance “has been... satisfactory”. Fuck you Elias, I hate you and I love you.

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MAG 107 - Third Degree

Ah, so Gertrude was arrested right after Gerard’s death, because she was caught in the morgue “over the body of Gerard Keay, reading from a large, strangely shaped book”.

Well, glad to know my man Gerard is alive and well. The rebel boy of my heart will come back, I still cannot believe it <3

Also, all my previous points regarding the useless statements have been thrown out of the window, because Mr. Sims found a perfect way to put them in. They’re still filler, sure, but now their presence makes sense: Jon needs them. Physically.

However, why does he need one, now? I mean, he’s doing research and he’s already getting stories from people, while retracing Gertrude’s steps. Maybe those stories aren’t big and satisfactory enough for his new Eye powers?

The statement per se, despite being useless, is also very creepy. Is the police officer an avatar of the Flame? In that case, it makes the whole interrogation even better because it would be the first time (since Michael’s conversation with Sasha) that a supernatural entity in its purest form talks with a human (Jon is not exactly a human anymore) - and even asks “Who am I?”, by knowing the human knows too. Very cool, very creepy, love it.

But also: is that police officer the same Max Mustermann we meet later on? Can Elias see the future now? I won’t be too surprised, considering the clever, cunning bitch he is.

And speaking of him: Jon ran away, he’s going all over the world in his research, saying almost nothing to not let others know where he is… and Elias casually sends him an envelope to his last location, with a statement to give him to "eat". How can I not love this guy.

Okay, Julia Montauk was NOT on my bingo card and Trevor Herbert even less. But oh gosh, it has been amazing to see them again!

First, she casually kidnaps Jon because why not - and hey, at least it loks like she doesn’t want to kill him.

Then, Mustermann is back and as soon as I read the name, I knew I’ve heard it before - and I was right! It was the placeholder name for unidentifiable men! The same from MAG 34! Back then it was for a woman (Erika Mustermann), while now it’s for a man, but still. Pretty cool comeback.

And I’m really happy to see Trevor Herbert again, he was such a cool guy! I’m very pleased to see two secondary characters cooperating. Until now, all the people who came with statements barely served any other purpose, aside from “people who have a story”. So seeing two of them being present, doing stuff and knowing each other is pretty cool. It makes the whole TMA world feel more alive.

I’m hyped now, I want to see what they’ll do together.

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MAG 108 - Monologue

So, a statement about an actor who loves monologuing and is haunted by a creepy theater mask which is actually nothing physical aside from an image of the solitude he’s surrounded by and can’t escape from.

I’m still not sure which kind of supernatural shit is this, but it reminds me of how isolated Martin felt at the beginning of this season, which is not a very good sign.

Even worse, right after that, Peter Lukas casually enters the room and has a chat with Martin and what the fuck is happening here.

PETER: Ah, I see. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It’s one of Elias’ little jokes. (...) PETER: Did he suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me? (...) PETER: Right. I have a meeting with him today. He suggested ... I’m sure he’s watching from his office, grinning from ear to ear.

Ah, now I get it: it was all because Elias was getting bored. Why not scare the shit out of his own employees, by sending his friend to collect complaints and suggestions? Sure, of course, that’s the most sensible thing anyone would do.

So Peter Lukas is:

friendly vibes

a weird supernatural shit by his own admission

Elias’ bestie

the umpteenth person to acknowledge Elias does nothing all day (“Elias Bouchard getting his hands dirty. Well, well, it must be the end times.”)

the Archives’ complaints department

Elias’ boss apparently, considering he can scold the bitch for wasting each other’s time

So if we associate the story with the guy… I don’t know, it looks like he can create “pockets” of solitude in which he can trap people. Maybe that’s what he did to Brian on MAG 100 too and the fog was another supernatural shit.

There’s still so much to know about these Lukas and this Peter is interesting. I want to know more about him - even though I fear him a bit too: if Elias told the others to not interfere with this family, there should be a very valid reason.

But also: they’re besties. So… I don’t know, I think I want to see them interacting.

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MAG 109 - Nightfall

A good backstory, we needed it.

Or more like… a connection story? As Jon said, when we left Julia Montauk and Trevor Herbert, they were doing completely different things. And yes, I forgot he was supposed to die. But can you blame me? No one really dies in this series.

Well, except the few who dies. And the people killed by Elias. The man may be lazy, but when it’s killing time, at least he makes it sure the people stay dead.

So Trevor was following a guy he thought was a vampire, but it came out he was one of the guys related to Julia’s story. The closed eye symbol is connected to the People's Church of the Divine Host, right? And Basira was reading something about it in the previous statement. Something regarding:

an eclipse on Ny-Ålesund

the relationship between Edmond Halley and John Flamsteed

which I thought were not important, but now I suppose they will be. Also because I thought these people were all somehow related to the supernatural shit with eyes aka the Eye. Will these people come back too?

Mustermann was involved in the Unknowing? Well, it makes sense: he’s an unidentified person, of course he’s in cahoots with the Stranger and the unknown. What will they do, then? Will Jon interrogate him? Will he find out more? Will we finally meet Gerard?

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MAG 110 - Creature Feature

A statement about a director obsessed with a non-existent film regarding a huge man-eating spider, who casually finds the book this supposed movie is based on.

Yes, I was sure it was a Leitner the exact moment he said it.

Oh my gosh Martin, I love you you huge dork <3 but also Basira is right and wrong at the same time: sure, standing with a cup of tea does nothing really useful… but let’s not forget Martin is the same guy who found out how to kill worms with a corkscrew, so maybe it’s better when he cares rather than when he leans into insanity.

Also, I wonder if we will keep this alternating between Jon and Martin throughout the next episodes. It’s entertaining to see both sides: the Archivist dealing with random shits related to the Unknowing, while the Archives deal with Elias.

And I cannot believe it, but we have an explanation regarding Elias’ lazy ass. We have a fucking explanation about why Elias does nothing all day.

They’re telling me Elias did absolutely nothing for two seasons and spends his time sitting on his ass 24/7… because he’s busy listening and watching everywhere? He can literally do nothing, otherwise he won’t know what’s happening?

That’s surprisingly clever and I’m angry it makes so much sense: this goddamn fucker literally cannot work or he won’t feed his supernatural powers! I hate him and I love him.

And yes, I will keep using his laziness to make fun of him anyway. It's too funny.

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In conclusion

Every episode gives me a more valid reason to stan Elias and hate him at the same time. Now there’s apparently a way to get past him and I cannot wait to see what the gang will do. I’m excited ✨

But I’m even more excited to see the possible Jon-Gerard meeting. My man is alive, the rebel boy, the one who beat the shit out of Leitner: he’s alive and I can’t wait to see him again.

The next ten episodes will also be the last of this season and I’m both scared and hyped to see how it will end: how will the gang stop the Unknowing? Will Tim get his revenge and die heroically or will he survive despite the “DEAD” sign flashing on his head? Will Elias be a huge bitch once again? Will Melanie finally find a way to kill him? Will we see more of Peter “good vibes” Lukas? Will Jon come back from his world tour? Will Martin confess his feelings (as if no one already knows about them)?

We’ll find out next week. Until now, take care of yourself <3

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

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[ghostickle]

47 days clean btw I think that’s the furthest I’ve ever made it

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

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

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

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

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

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

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[lambilegs]

✮🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺✮

striking a deal (sevika x reader)

contains: sevika being a jackass (what's new tho I still love her), gambling, reader sort of being a hater against gambling due to the negative impacts its had on their friend, enemies-with-a-bit-of-desire sort of vibe going on, reader is called a "girlfriend," very sfw, not much explicit romance and just a bit of flirting + attraction

a/n: hiii pookies so this is my first fic for miss sevika!! I hope it's accurate to her character and you all enjoy <33 would love to hear what y'all think hehe

art: four gentlemen of high rank playing primero

✮🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺✮

"hey, do you know where I can find sevika?" you tentatively ask the bartender. he's some nervous looking kid who's probably going to quit after two weeks of witnessing the shit show that is the last drop since vander was killed.

not that you can blame him. you rarely frequent this part of the undercity, avoiding it for both the sake of safety and your own sense of sanity. you couldn't stand half the crap that went down here -- all the drunken fights, the sloshing of alcohol spilling and soaking through nearly every visitor's clothes, the lewd public displays that sent your face burning and ducking down -- and, of course, the gambling.

the damn gambling you had been imploring your friend, zafar, to put aside for almost half a year now. ever since he had lost his younger sister to an "intervention" enforcers had made at a party a year ago, every bad habit of his that had once been a small spring in the ground, roots shallow, had blossomed into a rotten, ugly plant that had spread faster than the blink of an eye could capture. you tried to be there for him, you did, but you also had your own family to take care of, and with his new friends being nothing but a bunch of enablers, he had now landed himself into a world of debt.

why, you ask? he had made the stupid decision to play with one of silco's little henchmen, sevika, whose reputation at cards is so notorious that even you've heard of it from your dinky little corner, far away from this place. you had heard rumours of her, some admiring, others downright terrifying. her help in smuggling shimmer, the ass-whooping she did for silco, how she was a constant presence when it came to the drug lord. that was enough to drain you of any admiration you could've beheld for such a strong woman. you had seen what shimmer did, the power it had in crumbling people's bodies, mental states, and their ability to keep living. you don't approve of anyone who's involved in the horrors of it.

the only reason you're here now is because zafar came to you sobbing this morning, grief heavy in his eyes over the money he had lost. he claimed sevika cheated it out of him, and while you still aren't sure as to how true that is, you'd at least try to set the record straight with her. you want to do something, anything, for standing around and watching zafar self-destruct no longer feels like a valid option. you promised him you'd try to see if you could convince her to return his money, under the condition of him avoiding gambling as best as he could and beginning to work part-time at the shop where you worked so he could have a more reliable source of income.

you can only hope this shitty plan will be in your favour. already, your stomach is tightening with anxiety, the knot circling and circling to bulge against your gut and make you slightly nauseated. but, you try to, at least physically, keep your cool, schooling your features to be calm, levelled and devoid of any jitters or twitches.

the bartender cocks his head to a dark corner near the jukebox. "right there. why, you've got business with her?"

a spring of irritation flickers through you at his prodding. the less he knows, the better. "in a way." you nod your thanks, then make your way to her.

you had seen flashes of sevika before. rallies, protests, gang fights. a blur of dark hair, a murky red cape and swinging fists. that's all she ever was to you. so, now, to behold her in her full state, feels... intimidating, to say the least. she carries herself as though the rickety wooden boards and worn out hinges of this place are her prized palace and she's the hailing king, rightfully seated on her throne. her dark lips are twisted into a leering smirk, haughtily bringing her cigar to them and taking a prideful puff from it. you swallow hard. you're definitely out of your league.

you linger nearby, watching through the crowd and awaiting an opportunity to approach her. when the men around her slam their palms down on the shared table, groaning and shutting their eyes in clear loss, her arm tossing towards them cockily, you stiffen up. you have an opening.

as the losers begin to file away, shoulders slumped in defeat, you can't help but feel a twinge of pity for them. everyone in this city struggles, one way or another. to have those struggles tied off with a loss in poker is a downright cursed fate. you try not to meet their eyes, sliding through the sweaty bodies until you reach her table.

you pause in front of her, hands twiddling as she collects the coins. you wait for her to look up, and when a few seconds pass and no such thing happens, you clear your throat.

eyes still casted onto the table, she speaks. her voice is like sand that's fallen through the surface of the ocean, rough and textured, impossibly deep and smooth. "you waited your turn long enough. what do you want?"

you flinch. "waited my turn?"

she tilts her head in the direction you came from. "you were lurking there. just watching, or is there something you need?"

jesus, and here you had thought you were at least a bit subtle. "oh, I--"

"didn't think I'd notice you?" she scoffs, scooping up the coins and pouring them into a small sack. "you almost fell head-first when bunny-face bumped into you."

your eye nearly twitches. "okay, well, good observation, I guess." honestly, it's impressive. you had expected her to be all brawn, no brain. "I'm here to talk to you about something."

her eyes finally meet yours. they're nearly silver, a dark grey that flashes under the colourful lights. her gaze is piercing, punctuated all the more by her dark eyebrows that are drawn in curiosity. "make it quick."

that's all you need. "okay, well, my friend, zafar, gambled with you last night."

"okay."

"well, you won, and took a bunch of his money." you wobble on your feet, hesitation seizing at you due to the accusation you're about to lay out. she could probably snap your neck in less than a millisecond. you've heard of her ability to totally crush any enemy designated to her by silco. definitely not a person whose bad side you want to get on. hopefully, nothing of the sort will happen if you express yourself in enough of a civilized way. "he, I don't know if it's true, but he says you cheated." you avert your eyes, the hand in your pocket gripping tightly onto the handle of your dagger. you haven't had to use it, not yet, at least, but in the undercity, it's better to be safe than sorry. and, frankly, you're expecting the worse from her.

which is why you nearly flinch when the corner of her lip twists up, and she says, "a common scapegoat for losers."

protectiveness immediately kicks in, searing through your body and urging you through your fear. you know it's hypocritical, considering you, too, don't fully believe him. but, still, you at least know his character, whereas she's just riding off her assumptions. "he could just as well be telling the truth."

"oh, yeah? is that why he sent his little girlfriend to save his ass?"

gross. the insinuation feels nearly as offensive as her insults towards him. "I'm not his girlfriend. and I volunteered to come here myself."

her eyes flicker up to you, and you rear back when they linger on your face, skimming over your features before settling back down to the table. "and while that's nice, and well, pretty stupid of you, I didn't do any cheating. anything he lost was because he couldn't play his hand well."

you grit your teeth together. "I'm not stupid. I just came here for a friend."

"a friend who clearly is a sloppy poker player and likely to lose to anyone who has the playing ability of a child." she snickers, and you catch sight of the split between her two front teeth, a little gap protruding. you force yourself to meet her eyes. the last thing you'd want is for her to catch you staring at her mouth.

what's worse is that you can't even argue back with her on this. for all you know, zafar very well may be a shit player. probably is, in all honesty. it wouldn't surprise you -- he always was impulsive as hell, and you wouldn't bat an eye to discover that challenging sevika had been an in-the-moment decision of his. but, you know what he's been through. you know how down in the dumps he is financially, and just how desperate he's gotten. his mourning has only made it worse.

"okay, well," you trail off, not really knowing where to continue. you didn't really lay a plan for yourself, and now that she's swiftly shut you down in a manner which you have no rebuttals for, you're not sure how to proceed.

"was that all?"

"no." you force your shoulders to straighten, hoping you sound somewhat firm, maybe even dignified. "is there any way you can return his money? he's been through a lot this year, and--"

she cuts you off with a bark of laughter, the raspy noise of it harsh and grating to your ears. the anger it's stirring in you probably isn't helping either. "okay. listen, friend of...?"

deadpan, you respond, "zafar."

she nods. "yeah, whatever his name is. this game comes with risks, and one of them is losing all your shit if you play with no tact."

you suck in a sharp breath at the condescension in her tone. "I'm well aware of that. but, listen, he's had a hard time of it lately, and--"

"and what? we've all had a hard time of it lately. if he chose to put his life's worth on the table, that isn't my problem."

"I'm not saying it is, but c'mon, can't you have a little empathy now and return his money?" you stick an incredulous finger at the table. "you have enough as is! no need to drain every zaunite of their hard-earned money before you're satisfied."

her eyes flutter in what seems to be exasperation, but you firmly planted, both on your feet and in your stance. physically, you can't do shit against this mass of muscle. but, maybe, just maybe, you can verbally get somewhere.

she stares up at you, elbows propped on her knees. "if it's so hard-earned, why did your friend gamble it away? are you asking me to return someone's money because they were an idiot?"

frustration begins to gnaw at your stomach, a burning sensation swarming through your insides and making you tense up. "I'm telling you, he's not in his right mind right now. things have happened in his family lately, and it's been hard for him."

"are you forgetting where you live? things happen in every family here. being smart is how you survive. if your friend can't do that..." she shrugs, continuing to sweep the coins into the opening of the sack. "then, that's not my problem."

"being a decent person helps in surviving in this place, too. being there for each other and our community. don't you care about that?"

her movements halt for a second, eyes flicking between you and the table. you nearly crack a grin and do a little rejoicing dance. bingo.

you add a sticky sweet tone to your voice, pleading and coaxing. you've heard she frequents babette's brothel, and if that's any indication about where her romantic interests lie, maybe you'll be able to woe her into complacency. "c'mon, I promise, he'll never gamble with you again, and if he does, take anything and keep it. but, please, just this one time, help him out, hm? do it for him, do it for your people."

her face, which was stoic only moments ago, shatters into a loud round of laughter, her palm smacking against her knee. "I gotta hand it to you, the 'for your people' thing was a nice touch." she stands up, and you try not to blink too hard at the sight of her towering over you. jesus, she's gigantic. no wonder people are scared shitless of her. no wonder you were scared shitless of her. "now, be honest. was the money yours? boyfriend left you and stole from the cookie jar? told you you had to come and get it back yourself?"

the more she talks, the more you get the sense that to her, this conversation is simply something to toy with, and just engage with as a playful little pastime. it only causes more anger to ooze within you, fiery and hot within your guts, like lava. this isn't a game. this is about people's lives, people's financial sustenance. she must earn a decent amount of time for her work for silco, and yet here she is, milking the people of zaun who don't know any better or who are too entrenched in their habits to put a stop to their gambling.

you want to make a jab at her that's as harsh as the blow to your ego was. it might risk you a limb, but you're praying the surprising amount of calm she's shown so far is a sign that your safety is secure. "you know what? I was stupid for coming here in the first place. to think one of silco's little servants would actually have a moral compass."

unfortunately, her irritatingly cool collection not only keeps your physical wellbeing in check, but does the complete opposite to your pride. for all she does is stare down at you, the long, blue scar seeping through her cheek curling as she chuckles, the noise husky and rough, like crushed velvet. "ouch. good one. anyone else might've gotten offended by that." her stormy eyes skip to your lips for a split second. "quite the mouth you have on you."

what the fuck is that supposed to mean? is that a pass or a genuine comment on your temper, which is very much flaring up? either way, you're determined to try harder to goad her. "yeah, well, I'm sure it has no impact on you, right? after all, you spend your days contributing to half the shit going down in this fucked up city."

her jaw suddenly clenches, mouth pressing together. you would've thought someone in this business would be a bit more discreet with the physical manifestations of their moods. but, sevika is like an open book, grey eyes wide, and eyebrows sunk down, her newfound disdain clear as day. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"the shimmer," you answer, squinting at her, praying the expression conveys how stupid you think she is. "your little boss has just tossed it to this city and watches the damages of it unfold without doing shit. wasn't his glorious plan to make this city a better place, not fuck us over even more?"

"the shimmer is helping," she retorts, her voice harder than before, lined with a firm pressure that had been absent in her prior teasing and casual dismissal. "we have something that topside could only wish for, something that gives us an advantage."

"an advantage?" you laugh bitterly. the injustice of it all, the agony you see your people in everyday -- it all floods your insides, wracking you from within. "it's been years since it's come about, and nothing has changed. piltover is still on top, and in addition to that, they have hextech." you make sure your eyes pointedly lock onto hers, hoping she feels every single fibre of your rage. "just admit it. you guys haven't done shit."

"and what exactly are you doing?" her voice is lowered to a heavy whisper, and you feel the noises surrounding you two melt away into a light, background buzz. the iciness of her voice feels almost worst than any other stupid tone she's taken since you started interacting.

"something you and your boss don't seem to be helping at all with." you give her a tight-lipped smile, your gums aching with how hard your teeth press in together, the disjointed shapes of them uncomfortable and crooked as they mash at the edges. "trying to survive."

her nostrils flare, her burning glare pulsing through the barrier of your skin and making your insides turn from the onslaught of anxiety that enters. god, will she unleash some goons on you now or something?

"sevika!"

you jerk at the sudden sound, whereas sevika simply blinks down at you, gaze unrelenting. "what?" she calls out.

uncomfortable at having her eyes still pointed at you, you turn to the voice, seeing a man with small, rectangular glasses hanging off his nose looking awfully mopey.

"you promised us another round," the guy wails, tossing his hands in the air.

you swallow hard at the silence that ensues, still feeling her stormy eyes hooked onto you. after a moment, she says, "maybe later."

the man's shoulders sag as he heaves a dramatic sigh, turning to who seems to be his friend, whimpering, "she's too busy with her date."

you grimace at the mistake, though the disgust you feel at it is fused with an irritation directed at the way your stomach spins at the word 'date.' you're not stupid -- sevika is, objectively, pretty attractive. hot, some people might say. but, jesus, she's a bitch too. and working with silco, which makes for a very unappealing combination.

"come on," she drawls out. you turn back to her, the anger from before now replaced with a wide smirk, one sharp eyebrow lifted up inquisitively. "I can't be all that bad, can I?"

you roll your eyes. this conversation has strayed too much as is, and you're not about to let it tiptoe off into flirtatious territory. "are you going to give my friend back his money or not?"

"hm," she ponders, and lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. you can immediately catch a whiff of the falsehood in the gesture, and tap your foot, waiting for her to just solidify your assumption. "no, I won't. but, do give him my regards."

you grunt, shaking your head. despite your expectancy of it, you can't help but feel a stone of disappointment sink through the waters of your body, falling to the bottom with more impact than you'd like. you shouldn't expect anything of her, there's no reason for you to feel disappointment. your expectations shouldn't have gotten this high in the first place. "of course. have a good day."

as you whirl around to leave, she grabs your forearm, callouses brushing against your skin. "hey, I just turned down a poker game for you."

"uh, yeah, and as a reward, you get a departure from me that doesn't include a kick to the shin." you snatch your arm from her grasp, trying to direct your thoughts to her shitty words as a desperate attempt to ignore the warmth in your stomach. "you're welcome."

with her snarky laugh ringing in your ears, you practically dash to the door, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

it's awful, but at the opening, something in you whispers for you to look back once more. it's okay -- it's reasonable, right? you barely frequent this place, anyone would want to catch one last glance at such a notorious woman in your city, no matter how degenerate and callous she is.

the only con to this is as soon as you find sight of her through your tentative search of the crowd, she's already staring back at you. at being caught, you internally cringe, the feeling only intensified by a tenfold when she tips her head at you with a grin.

ugh. never again.

two weeks later, you find a crisp envelope laying out on the mat outside your front door. in neat, cursive writing, it reads:

A thank you gift for the free business consultation. Do with it what you will. Whether you or someone else needs it. - S

[alloftheimaginesblog]

ready (klaus mikaelson)

plot: klaus always knew that one day you'd take him up on his offer.

character: female vampire reader x klaus mikaelson

inspired by something similar he says to caroline

"One day, love, you'll come to me. Might be in two years, might be two hundred but mark my words, you'll realise I was right along. I am the only one who can fulfil your wildest desires and your largest dreams. When you realise that, you'll come knocking on my door and then... well, love, then I'll give you the world."

It had been three and a half years since Klaus Mikaelson had said this to you. Three long years. He'd came into your life as a villain, you were supposed to hate him. He had killed, harmed and tortured so many of your friends (and his sister had tortured you a fair few times) and yet, he was always so delicate and gentle with you. He'd been interested in you pretty much ever since he came to Mystic Falls. You'd hated him... or at least, you tried.

He had gotten under your skin all of those years ago. He'd saved you too many times to count. He had shown you kindness and compassion, had recognised you for who you were; Klaus had seen you. You'd gotten to see a glimpse of the human side to him, not the scary big bad wolf, you'd started to see him. And when he left, with an invite extended your way, it took everything in you to say no.

Klaus hadn't stepped foot in Mystic Falls since he left and yet, every few months or so, he would write to you. Seldom did you respond but you enjoyed reading about his travels. Each time he wrote, he would send photos of the new place he was visiting usually with a list of reasons as to why you'd love it there with drawings he'd done and every single time he wrote, he attached a plane ticket to whatever destination with your name on it. You never used them, instead they gathered dust in a drawer which was full of his old letters. Klaus also always wrote exactly where he was staying at the end of the letter so you knew exactly how to get to him. Periodically, you'd go through and read some of them. They always smelled like him and had the same send off each time.

'Unequivocally yours, Klaus'

You knew that if you needed him, he would be there immediately. He had promised you as such. And the one time you called for help when Caroline got bit by a werewolf, Klaus couldn't be there in person but he sent Elijah with a few vials of his blood (extras for any future emergencies). He would do anything for you and all he wanted was the chance to show you as such.

So when this month's letter arrived with details of his new adventure complete with a plane ticket to Italy, you decided to take the chance you'd regretted not taking three and a half years prior. Your friends were oddly supportive which surprised you but Bonnie had told you she wanted you to be happy and if he's what made you happy then so be it. Damon wasn't impressed but he rarely ever was. Stefan urged you to your happy ending. Caroline approved, she'd seen the way Klaus would've done anything for you so even though she didn't like him, she knew that he was the real deal. Elena was supportive, she'd gone for the 'bad guy' in Damon so she understood the inner conflict and told you that it was okay to let yourself be happy.

So, you packed a bag and headed to Italy.

Getting there was the easy bit; the hard bit was finding the courage to knock on the front door. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood on the grounds of what you could only describe as a small castle. It was beautiful, with glorious gardens and fragrant flowers. You swallowed hard before taking a breath, this is what you came for, and you knocked three times.

After a few seconds, you could hear someone's voice approaching. Klaus.

"-I didn't ask you to go to such lengths, brother, though I have to say I do appreciate it-"

He opened the door and his expression turned from one of mild annoyance to complete shock.

"Elijah, more important matters have emerged, I'll speak to you later." He hung up, pocketing his phone quickly. He looked good. The Italian sun suited him, turning his hair a shade blonder and making his blue eyes pop, "(y/n)..." A slow, wide smile spread onto his face.

You swallowed hard, "Hi, Klaus."

He stepped aside, silently inviting you into his castle, and with a small smile you breezed past him. He closed the door and led you through to a grand room with various couches and paintings. You looked around incredulously, "This place... it's incredible."

Klaus smiled, "I told you that you'd like this one."

You looked at him and felt nerves bubble in your stomach. You'd came all this way and now... you didn't know what to do. Klaus eyed you curiously, trying to gauge how you were feeling, "Do you need something?" Oh, how he hoped that you were here for him but he had to be sure.

You shook your head, finding words too hard to find, and instead looked back to the paintings, "These are beautiful, did you do these?"

Klaus appeared at your side, making you jump slightly, "Sorry, love," he smirked. He was so close to you, so near that you could smell his cologne. Your heart raced. His hand reached out past you to touch the painting, "I painted all of these, yes. This one is my favourite."

"The colours are lovely," you nodded.

Klaus smiled, quickly vanishing and then returning to your side, "Here, look in the mirror and then look at the painting."

You frowned at him but complied regardless of your confusion. He handed you a small hand mirror which you looked into and then at the painting, "I don't get it," you said to which he urged you to look again and then you realised, "my eyes."

Klaus grinned, "There we go, love," he beamed proudly, "my favourite colours and shades to use. They crop up a lot in my paintings. Go, look," he encouraged you forwards, "take a look and you'll see how often you feature in my paintings."

For a moment, you walked around the room, soaking in the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) hints of your eye colour in every single one of his paintings. It touched you causing you to feel warm inside and you couldn't understand why. You looked at him. He stood on the other side of the room watching you with awe filled eyes, "But why?" You asked softly with tears filling your eyes, "Why me?"

In an instant, he was in front of you, chest touching yours, with his eyes locked with yours, "Oh, love," he whispered, hand reaching out to graze your cheek softly, "It's always been you."

You looked up at him, "You asked me if I needed something earlier." Klaus's brow furrowed and his hand stilled - fear; fear that you weren't here for him, fear that you needed something and then you'd disappear again. "I do need something, Klaus."

"Anything."

"I want... I need you." Your admission was quiet but he heard you loud and clear, "For years, I've regretted saying no to your offer to come with you. I want to live, Klaus. I want to be free. I want to be happy and that means letting myself be happy with... you."

"Me?" Klaus asked.

You nodded as your own hand found its way to rest on his chest, "I'm ready to fall in love with you, Klaus. I just hope I'm not too late."

He grinned, wider than you'd ever seen him smile, "You're right on time, love," he said before his lips crashed to yours. And for the first time ever, you let yourself give in.

[mustangbby]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[areyouwell]

Hi!!! I really love your work- photophobia is my favorite piece of fanfiction ever!!

I don't know if your requests are still open but if they are and you feel inspired I'd like to request a one-shot where Logan and reader are caught having sex by a member of the x-men (you can decide who!!) I'd love to see your take on it <3

Like Animals

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: im sorry this took so long ;-; work's been driving me crazy and i've been creatively constipated BUT i really liked this request and ngl i was laughing to myself when writing it hehehe. also not sure if this counts as a oneshot or a drabble since it's kinda short but i hope this is what you had in mind!

Taglist: @fries11 (i had a taglist for Phobophobia but this is a more general one if anyone wants to be on it lmk <3)

How many steps could one person do in a single day? It was a question you idly entertained whilst pacing across the floor of the kitchen, having been asked to politely remove yourself from movie night by a mildly irritated Kitty when you were unable to sit still. You’d spent most of your day like this. Anxiously, mindlessly marching from place to place, your body humming with anticipation since yesterday evening. 

It was the longest you and Logan had been apart since the start of your relationship a year and a half ago, and fuck you missed him. It had been roughly three weeks since he’d left, Charles trusting him with gathering intel on some new fucked up mutant slave trade just south of the school. He’d called you, of course he had, and you knew it was purely just to hear your voice, but his calls were few and far between. He was busy, incredibly busy. And whilst you tried to keep yourself busy too, it was hard not to think about him constantly. Not to wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay. If he missed you just as much as you missed him.

But you were pacing because he was supposed to be coming home today. Supposed to, if everything had gone well. Scott was almost as excited as you were, but only because he was happy to finally have his bike back. He was almost inconsolable when he went into the garage to see his prized possession had once again been stolen, and you tried everything you could to hide your amused grin. It was so typical of him, for his last act before he was gone for three weeks to be something that would piss off Scott. 

Fuck you loved him. 

You checked the clock on the wall for the thirtieth time that minute, the hands mocking you with the rhythmic clicking. Quarter past nine. He was supposed to be back an hour ago. Hence the anxious pacing. You resisted the urge to call him, hoping that maybe the traffic was just bad, or he got held up for some reason. He was okay. Of course he was okay. This was Logan you were thinking about. He was always okay. He had to be okay. 

Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip cursing lowly as you didn’t focus on where you were going and smacked your hip into the corner of the table. If only he knew the things he id to you when he was away. 

With a brief pause, you debated whether or not to go back to movie night. Whilst you had no idea what was happening onscreen, being unable to focus, you think you could understand the fairly basic premise of Night at the Museum. Some guy spends a night at a museum. How complex could that actually be? But remembering Kitty’s flat stare of knowing, you thought better of it. She’d been helpful in distracting you for the last three weeks, but clearly, you’d worn down her patience. Not that you could blame the girl. She called you out for being too codependent on him, and whilst at the time you refuted the claim, you couldn’t help thinking she may have had a point. Maybe.

You weren’t codependent. You just loved him. A lot. Enough to constantly be by his side every minute of every day. And it wasn’t like he was any different. 

Another minute ticked by and you clenched your jaw. Had he gotten lost or something? Why was he making you wait longer than you needed to? Of course it wasn’t deliberate, even if he wanted to, you don’t think he had the strength to do that, deprive you both of the other’s presence, but he really picked a time to be an hour late. 

You crossed to the window, pulling back the curtain for the umpteenth time and waiting for longer than you should for the peek of headlights around the drive. But there was nothing. Just the moonlit grass and silhouette of trees. You huffed, throwing the curtain back into place. Footsteps echoed through the hallway towards the kitchen, and you dragged a hand down your face. 

“I’m fine, Scott. Just… getting kinda worried now. He should have been back an hour ago.” You couldn’t help pulling back the curtain again, as if anything would have changed in the last twenty seconds. 

“Scott? Seriously?”

Oh. That was not Scott. 

You whipped around, heart soaring as you knew that voice instantly. You could be deaf and still know the sound of his voice. Your lips split into a broad grin as you saw Logan standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow raised with a wry smile pulling at his lips. 

“Logan!” You beamed, racing across the room to all but tackle him. He dropped his leather bag to the floor, wrapping his arms around around your middle, spinning with the momentum of your jump. Your legs anchored around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you let yourself bask in his presence, inhaling the familiar scent of cigars and wood smoke. 

“Hi darlin’. Sorry ‘m late.” He breathed, tightening his hold on you more for comfort than anything else. The tightness in his chest finally eased with the feeling of having you back in his arms. Logan always thought of himself as a lone wolf. An outsider. Someone who didn’t need anybody else. That was until he met you and fell absolutely head over heels. Now he could barely stand to be on his own for longer than five minutes before he’d find himself sorely missing your presence. So the last three weeks had been as torturous for him as they had been for you. 

Removing your face from the crook of his neck, you schooled your expression into a scowl. “Where the fuck have you been? An hour, Logan. I haven’t seen you in three weeks and you make me wait another hour?!”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, smirking as your furrowed brows deepened. “Roads were closed. Fuckin’ tree blocked the way so I had to turn back n’ find another way round.” He explained, and you reluctantly accepted it. “Not that you missed me or anythin’.”

“Me? Miss you?” you quirked a brow, your scowl dissolving into a mischievous smirk. “In your dreams, Howlett.”

Before he had a chance to quip back, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging tight as your lips crashed into his, dragging a quiet groan from his throat as he tasted longing passion on your tongue. His hands slid from your back to your thighs and oh how you missed the way he would grip them, leaving little purple bruises where he dug his fingers into your soft flesh. 

Your brows pinched as he shifted to pin you against the wall, palms kneading your ass whilst he ground his rapidly hardening cock against your clothed heat. You whimpered lightly as his touches became desperate, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from the depths of his chest. Shifting from his neck, your nails dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders, leaving little crescent dents across the sinewy skin before you the brown flannel from his arms. It was barely clinging on anyway, so why not assist the fall?

“Where’s everyone?” He ground, lips fanning against your lower jaw as he moved to pepper tingling kisses and aching bruises along the column of your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin above your pulse point. You angled your head to the side, allowing him easier access, the scuff of his beard scratching deliciously against the hollow of your throat.

“Movie night– Logan…!” you gasped his name as quietly as you could when his hands left the plush of your ass, using your grip around his waist and the wall to hold you aloft whilst he pawed and kneaded at your breasts through your t-shirt, braless nipples hardening almost instantly. He pinched the pebble through the fabric, tugging slightly and silencing your whine with a burning kiss, hungrily devouring your mouth before you alerted anyone in the living room to the new show playing in the kitchen. 

He growled a gravelly “Good” against your lips, removing your arms from his shoulders to raise above your head, pulling your shirt up and off in a hurried frenzy, almost snarling to himself as you bared yourself for him. You shivered slightly, though not from the cold, quite the opposite. The heat radiating off him kept you warm as you scrabbled to return the favour, your nails scratching at his naval before pulling up the white singlet and discarding it to the ground alongside your own shirt. Your hands fell to his belt, his mouth delivering little bites to your collarbone. Fuck, you needed him now. You needed him yesterday. Hell, you needed him the day he left, because fucking yourself with your fingers wearing his flannel was nothing in comparison to the ecstasy of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Need you,” you breathed, popping open the button atop his jeans and pulling down the zipper over the incredibly obvious and likely extremely uncomfortable tent in his pants. Logan groaned slightly against your neck in relief, the tip of his cock pulsing and leaking with need. He hadn’t been this desperate for you since–

What the fuck was he saying? He was always desperate for you. In any way, shape or form. For whatever you were willing to give him. Though, luckily enough, you were usually willing to give him everything. 

“Fuck princess, ‘can smell you. Smell so fuckin’ good.” he growled directly into your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. You really didn’t care that you were in the kitchen, nor did you care when he carefully tore through the crotch of your sweatpants with a single claw. Your arousal clouded his senses, the sweet scent of need making his hips buck into you. Especially when he dipped his hand through the tear to find you were naked beneath. “No underwear? You did miss me.” He grinned the same smile as a predator, and you clamped your lips together to stop your own disobedient smile. 

“‘Was in my pyjamas… at least, they were my pyjamas.” You hissed, brows pinching as a curious, delicate finger softly grazed through your slick folds, gathering your dewy arousal on the tip of his fingers before bringing them up to his mouth. A carnal groan rumbled from his chest as he tasted you, his eyes rolling before they closed. Your mouth fell open, chest rising and falling in rapid pants as one of your hands shoved the elastic of his briefs down below his hips, just far enough for his desperate cock to spring from his confines. 

“Impatient?” He smirked darkly as you attempted to grind against him, having to clench your jaw to stop yourself from whining. You shot him an equally wicked look, earning yourself a brow raise before his jaw slackened, your hand circling his length in a tight palm, jerking him from base to tip and using your thumb to slather the head of his cock in his own yearning. He bucked into your hand, a gasp flying from his lips before you slid him through the tear in your sweatpants. But before you could coerce him to drive home, he pulled you from the wall. 

With a small squeak of surprise, your nails clung to his back, tearing angry marks up his spine as he set you back down on the table, leaning over you until you were lying against the solid wood. 

“Say you missed me,” he growled with a smile, clearly deriving pleasure from the way you huffed in frustration. You only responded by raising your hips into his, grinding your now-soaked crotch against his throbbing cock. “C’mon baby, just say it, ‘n I’ll give you everything you want.” he bargained, though finding it incredibly difficult to deny you. He grunted a soft curse when you locked your legs tighter around his waist, forcing his sensitive tip to graze through your aching heat. Fuck he wanted you. But at the same time, he really wanted to hear you say it. “C’mooon, say you missed me. Can’t really deny it.”

“Fuck, yes I missed you. Of course I missed you. Now fuck me already!” You spat through gritted teeth, but he still didn’t claim you the way you wanted him to. 

“How much?”

“Logan?!”

“How much? How much did you miss me?” He grinned and you groaned in frustration. Trust him to find the worst times to wind you up. With a deep breath, you leaned up, holding both sides of his neck as you took the shell of his ear between your teeth. 

“I fucked myself wearing your clothes, whining your name, imagining my fingers were your fingers. Imagining that stupid silicon cock was your cock. That’s how much I missed you.” You whispered, earning yourself a needy groan from the man above you. 

His hips moved as if they had a mind of their own, his hand guiding himself through the ruins of your sweatpants to sink into your leaking cunt, and you both gasped airily at the sensation. Incrementally, Logan pushed inside you, savouring the pulse of your silken walls, the pitch of your trapped whines behind a wall of teeth and lips. Oh how he wanted to hear you, but somewhere in the back of his pleasure-addles mind, he was glad you were keeping quiet. At least one of you was still aware of the time and place. 

Slowly he bottomed out, pressing the coarse hairs of his pelvis against your clit. Taking your hand in his, he trapped it by the side of your head, knuckled turning white as he fought to resist the urge to cum there and then. You felt so fucking good. How did you always feel so fucking good?

“F-fuck, Logan… move.” You hissed, your hips undulating in desperate pumps as you attempted to get him to do something other than just fill you. It felt incredible, but you needed more. What you didn’t realise was that he was hypersensitive. He’d been without you for the last three weeks, with nothing but your voice on the other side of his phone and his own fist to satisfy his craving for you. And it did nothing but make it worse. Did nothing but make him harder for you. 

“Easy, princess. Not– fuck… not goin’ anywhere.” He swore as you deliberately clenched around him, slowly pulling back until only his tip was submerged in your heat, before pushing back in, having to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder to muffle his loud groan of ecstasy. You clawed at his closed fist, sharp nails digging into the three spaces where his claws would slide out—an unknown erogenous zone.

Until now.

His cock jumped inside you, shivers of pure electric honey quivering down his spine as he slammed his hips into yours, momentarily losing control of himself. “Shit… shit! Fuck that was– what did you–” 

You did it again, watching his features fall completely slack, mouth agape as he bucked into you uncontrollably, as if searching for a deeper place to reach. Your chest inflated with a sharp gasp as the leaking, throbbing tip of his cock brushed that little bundle of pleasure nestled inside your walls, the tight leash you were holding on your voice loosening slightly as he thrust into you sharply, having found just the right angle. 

“Yes… fuck, yeah, there, right– shit, right there!” Your eyes fluttered closed, your body set alight as he set a determined pace, the table shifting slightly with each delicious thrust, your ecstasy climbing higher and higher and you let yourself be completely consumed by pleasure. 

“Yeah?” he growled, gasping into the side of your neck as your other hand scratched up his back as if you were trying to get past his regeneration and leave lingering marks. He loved it when you got rough, it drove him fucking crazy when you tried to leave your marks on him. There were times he hated his mutation for that because nothing would push him higher than knowing he could look in the mirror and see your desperation sucked into his neck or torn into his back. 

“Fuck! Logan, I–”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

At the first sound of a foreign voice outside of your bubble of rapture, your mutation flared, blinking both you and Logan out of sight. Though, if you could teleport, that would have been a whole lot more beneficial. Because now poor Scott had to bear witness to your spontaneous kitchen table tryst. 

Had to bear witness to Logan’s bare ass. You almost wished you had his perspective…

“Maybe he didn’t see us…” you whispered as quietly as you could, and though you couldn’t see Logan smile, you knew he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“I wouldn’t hold out hope.”

“I can fucking hear you. On the table? Seriously? Everyone eats there. I eat there!” He lamented, and you craned your neck to see he’d covered his already covered eyes with his hands, his face a nice shade of bright pink. 

“Like you and Jean are any more discrete in the danger room, Summers.” Logan barked, and you snorted a laugh which quickly turned into a gasp when he shifted slightly. You couldn’t even hide the way your cunt pulsed the moment you heard him walk in, and you knew Logan would have given you a look of intrigue. 

“That’s not– You’re still going?!”

“You kinda walked in at a bad time.” You could hear just how hard Logan was trying to keep his shit together whilst still being under the influence of your arousal, like a siren to a sailor. 

“Exactly. It’s rude to walk in on a lady without knocking, I could have been naked!” You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud as Logan shifted again, deliberately this time. Oh, how you wished you could see his face right now. 

“In the kitchen?!” 

You snorted a laugh, earning a low groan from Logan as your walls convulsed around his cock, your thighs tightening around his waist. You could almost hear his teeth grind together as he continued his battle to stop from pounding into you there and then. 

“You might wanna go, Scott. Logan’s getting impatient.”

“You can’t even see him, how’d you kn– OH FUCK’S SAKE!”  He huffed, turning on his heel and storming from the room, no doubt to tell Kitty and Ororo he’d just caught the two of you fucking like animals on the kitchen table. 

When you were certain he was gone, you released your grip on your mutation and the visage of Logan’s sweat-slicked face greeted you, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, nipping at your jaw. “Could feel you gushin’ around me, princess. You liked it when he walked in. You liked it when we got caught.” Feeling boneless, Logan pulled you up with him as he stood, sliding his still-hard cock from your twitching cunt. 

“Shut up…” You mumbled, attempting to latch your lips to his. But he pulled back from you, that same shit-eating grin still shining. With a huff, you hopped off the table, stooping to snatch your t-shirt from the ground. 

“My little exhibitionist. Who knew?” Logan wrapped his arms around your naked waist and you leaned back into his chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you felt his cock press against your ass. “‘M not against extending invitations. Just to watch. Nobody gets to touch you but me.” He growled, a possessive edge cutting into his tone, one that made you slightly weak at the knees, as if you weren’t already struggling to stand. A fresh wave of arousal curled in your lower gut, and you turned in his arms, eyes like heated coals.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Now, Logan!”

With a dark chuckle, he bent to pick you up, hands braced against the backs of your thighs much like he had when he first walked in. 

“Yes ma’am.” He murmured, before finally letting you capture his mouth with your own, teeth clashing and tongues dancing as he blindly carried you up to bed to finish what you both started. 

[the-oblivious-writer]

Oh the Guilt

Sam Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: no

Warning(s): major character death and mourning/grief

Notes: Based off of this request: hey! i saw your requests are open (i am indeed busting). i was wondering if you’d do some angst with either sam or tara? maybe sam/tara spending the holidays alone because they falsely accused reader of being gf and pushed them away/broke up w them. but it only ended up putting r in danger and leading to their death? love me some good ol angst if you’re up for it! have a great holiday season :)

The Christmas lights blur through her tears as Sam clutches your photo to her chest, fingers trembling against the worn edges. Her apartment feels too quiet, too empty, the silence broken only by the distant sound of people celebrating that makes everything worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sam stares at your sweater draped over her couch - the soft blue one you always wore when it got cold, the one that still holds traces of your perfume. She doesn't deserve its comfort, but she pulls it on anyway, drowning in fabric and guilt and memory.

"We’re specimens to you, aren’t we?" Sam's voice had cracked like breaking glass, fear masquerading as anger. "I’m not letting Tara get hurt again!"

You'd reached for her, confusion and hurt painting your features. "Sam, please. You know me. I would never-"

"I thought I knew Richie too," she'd snarled, backing away from your touch. "Get out. Get out!”

The door had slammed with such finality. She'd thought she was protecting herself, protecting everyone. Instead, she'd handed you to them gift-wrapped - alone, vulnerable, perfect prey.

By the time Sam realized her mistake, she was cradling your broken body in the rain, red seeping into puddles around you both. Your fingers had weakly brushed her cheek, still trying to comfort her even then.

"Not your fault," you'd whispered, but those words haunt her worse than any ghostface ever could.

Now Tara brings food she doesn't eat, Kirby tries to coax her out, but Sam remains suspended in amber, preserved in the moment she lost you. Your clothes hang in her closet like ghosts. She wears your sweaters to sleep, buries her face in the fabric and pretends she can still feel your warmth.

The Christmas tree in the corner - the one you'd insisted on buying together - stands half-decorated, just as you'd left it. Tinsel dangles like broken promises. The star you'd picked out remains in its box, because finishing it without you feels like accepting you're gone.

Sam traces the words of your last text message: "I love you. We'll talk soon." Her phone screen has cracked from how many times she's dropped it, hands shaking too hard to hold on.

She knows she should let others in. Knows you'd want her to live, to heal, to forgive herself. But every time Tara hugs her or Kirby offers support, it feels like betraying your memory. Like she doesn't deserve comfort after what she did to you.

Sometimes, in the depths of night when the walls feel like they're closing in, Sam swears she can feel you. A whisper of movement in her peripheral vision, the ghost of your touch against her shoulder, the way the air shifts as if accommodating your presence.

"I see you everywhere," she whispers into the darkness, clutching your sweater like a lifeline. "The coffee mug you chipped is still in the cabinet. Your stupid action movies are still in my queue. I can't… I can't delete them."

The apartment creaks, settling into winter's grip, and Sam lets out a broken laugh. "Remember how you used to say these old buildings had character? God, you'd make up stories about the noises - ghosts having dance parties, you said." Her voice catches. "Is that what you're doing now? Dancing without me?"

Sam reaches out, fingers trembling in the empty air where she imagines you might be. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I was so scared of losing everyone that I pushed away the one person who…" She chokes on the words. "The one person who never gave me a reason to doubt them."

The Christmas lights flicker, and for a moment, Sam's heart stops. She's learned to find meaning in these small disturbances, these tiny rebellions against reality. "I know what you'd say. That I need to forgive myself. That I need to let people in." Tears track down her cheeks. "But how can I? How can I when every time I close my eyes, I see you bleeding out in my arms?"

Something shifts in the room - maybe the heating kicking in, maybe something more. The tinsel on the half-decorated tree sways gently. Sam watches it, transfixed. "If you're here… I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have trusted you. Should have protected you. Should have been there when…"

The star for the tree - your star - sits in its box on the coffee table. As Sam watches through tears, a draft from somewhere catches the lid, lifting it slightly. Her breath hitches.

"You want me to finish it, don't you? The tree?" Her laugh is wet, broken. "Always so stubborn about traditions." She reaches for the star with shaking hands. "I don't know if I can. It feels like accepting you're really…"

The room grows impossibly still, as if the very air is holding its breath. Sam could swear she feels the phantom pressure of your hand over hers, guiding her toward the tree. The sensation is so vivid she gasps.

"Okay," she whispers, standing on unsteady legs. "Okay, baby. For you." She clutches the star to her chest, your sweater hanging loose on her frame. "But I'm not ready to let you go. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

As she reaches up to place the star, the Christmas lights seem to glow a little brighter, and for just a moment, Sam swears she can feel your arms around her waist, your chin on her shoulder, just like before. Just like always.

"Stay with me?" she asks the empty room, knowing the answer, dreading the silence. "Even if I don't deserve it?"

The lights flicker once, twice - like a heartbeat, like a promise - and Sam breaks down sobbing, sliding to the floor beneath your half-finished tree, beneath your star, beneath the weight of a love that even death couldn't quite end.

———

A/N: first request filled, ob-la-di (sorry if this sucks, I’m half-asleep)

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |3|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Talks of injuries

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

“Run away with me?” you asked, staring into Tara’s eyes as she leaned in for a kiss.

“No,” Tara giggled, playfully shoving you.

“Why not?” you sighed, flopping back onto Tara’s bed.

“Cause I don’t want to be a high school drop out?” Tara draped herself over you, looking down at you with a loving smile.

“Ugh, fine, I guess that’s reasonable,” you grumbled, pouting up at her as you ran a hand through her hair.

Tara sucked in a breath, instantly wincing in pain, her hand went to her stomach, but she quickly pulled it away when the pain worsened. She tried to push herself up but quickly lowered herself back down when every movement sent waves of pain through her entire body. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the unfamiliar lighting. She looked around seeing blank white walls, a thin white sheet over her, and a hospital bed. She scrunched her eyebrows, trying to remember what happened, she reached up feeling an oxygen tube around her nose.

She got flashes of bleeding out on the floor, a knife through her hand. She looked down to see her left hand bandaged up. She closed her eyes, feeling her leg snap, she winced at just the memory. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed the large black boot on her right leg. Then she saw it, the white mask, black cloak, she remembered getting the call, it had been Ghostface. Her heart rate picked up again, she ignored the pain as she pushed herself further up on the pillow. She whipped her head around, her eyes darting all over the room, only stopping when they landed on your sleeping figure.

She couldn’t help but give a small smile at you. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes as the attack fully came back to her. The only comfort she had was seeing you by her side, safe and sound. Part of her felt bad but the other part of her wanted to laugh at your position. You were curled up, one leg hanging off the chair, the other draped over the armrest, and the top half of your body curled in, so your head was resting on the back of the chair.

She relaxed back into the pillow, her heartbeat slowing back down. She never took her eyes off you though. Her mind went back to the dream she woke up from. It was a memory, it was the last time you spent the night, just two days ago. You always asked Tara to run away with you, ever since she turned eighteen. The two of you had plans to leave when Tara graduated but then she got held back a year, delaying your plans a year. She knew you didn’t mind, truly, but you still always asked to run away. Tara loved it, she loved knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. Tara just didn’t want to be a dropout before she ran away with you.

Tara laid her head on her pillow, just staring at you, you always looked so peaceful sleeping, even in a very uncomfortable position. You suddenly shot up, bracing yourself in the chair so you didn’t fall off. Your eyes instantly went to Tara, your eyes filled with tears as you let out a shaky breath. Tara could only describe the look on your face as one of relief, she had no idea how long she had been out and couldn’t begin to imagine what you had been going through this whole time. If you had been attacked and Tara was the one waiting by your bedside she surely would have been going out of her mind.

“You’re okay,” you sobbed. You were instantly out of the chair and at Tara’s side. You reached up to touch her but hesitated, your hand freezing just as you were about to graze her hair.

Tara gave a small nod, realizing you were terrified of hurting her. “It’s okay,” she rasped out.

Your hand gently caressed her cheek. You leaned in, resting your forehead against hers. Your eyes were pinched shut but tears still managed to spill out of them. Tara let out a shaky breath, trying to contain her own sobs, she reached up with her good hand, resting it on the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered in between sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tara tightened her grip on you, quietly shushing you. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She wanted to offer you any comfort she could give, she was making sure you felt her, that you heard her, that you knew she was there, and she was okay.

When you finally pulled away from her you quickly wiped your eyes, sniffling a little. You cleared your throat as you walked across the room, Tara’s heartbeat spiked for a second until she realized you were just going to the sink. Her eyes never left you as you filled a glass with water and instantly went back to her side, you handed her the glass of water and then dragged the chair you had been sleeping in next to her bedside. She took a few sips, the water instantly soothing her dry throat.

Tara looked down at your hand resting on her bed, she could feel your fingers barely grazing her leg through the blanket. She started to move her hand to hold your hand but stopped when she realized her hand was bandaged. She furrowed her brow, opening her mouth to ask you to move to her other side but the words died on her lips when she looked up, seeing your eyes not on her in the moment but on the door. She quickly shut her mouth, she couldn’t help but smile at your determined look, as if you were daring someone to walk through that door.

When you took your eyes off the door and looked back at her, she was still staring at you. You tilted your head, giving her the same soft look you always gave her, it was a complete 180 from the glare you had been giving the door. “What?” you asked softly.

Tara shook her head, blinking away the tears that had started to form. “I love you,” is all she said.

You smiled, for the first time since Tara woke up, you looked like you did any other day. If she didn’t know better, she would say you and her were just sitting on her couch about to watch a movie. “I love you too,” you reached up, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Do you want me to text your friends?”

Tara opened her mouth ready to say yes but stopped. She couldn’t explain why she stopped. She loved her friends; she had known all of them pretty much her entire life. She couldn’t imagine any of them hurting her, couldn’t imagine that any of them would dress up like a psycho and attack her. There was a part of her that told her not to trust anyone though. Tara might not have remembered Stab too well, but she knew the story of the original Ghostface killings, Sidney’s boyfriend had been the killer, she had trusted him, and he ended up being the one to attack her and kill her friends. The truth was, anyone could be a killer.

The only person she didn’t doubt for a second was you. Maybe it was stupid and naïve but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind about you, she knew you’d never hurt her. And if anyone ever asked her about it, she’d say that you sitting there by her bedside completely guilt ridden over just not being there was proof enough. She saw you beating yourself up, blaming yourself, and it was all for something you had nothing to do with, for something couldn’t have controlled or prevented. As much as Tara had wanted you to come over that night, she was now glad you had work, she would never have forgiven herself if you had been there and you had gotten hurt trying to protect her.

“Not yet,” Tara finally decided on. “I’ll text them later. I’m not ready for all of them. I just want to sit here with you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. You tucked more strands of her hair that had gotten loose behind her ear. You didn’t even question Tara’s decision to not contact her friends yet, not that she ever thought you’d question her wanting to spend more alone time with you.

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

Tara looked down at herself, her eyes focusing on the large boot on her foot before trailing up to her hand. She lifted her hand off the bed, turning it over, it was covered in a wrap, but Tara could still see the knife sticking through it. “It hurts,” she said but it came out as more of a whimper.

“Do you want me to get the nurse? Maybe they can give you more drugs or up the dosage?” you were already moving to stand up.

“No.” Tara reached across her body with her good hand but didn’t have to strain herself before you noticed and were sitting back down. “I’m okay.” You didn’t look convinced. “Really, I think no matter what, I’m going to feel it at least a little bit.”

“Okay,” you whispered, dropping your eyes to the floor as you stared intensely at your clasped hands in your lap. “I should have been there,” you whispered. If you weren’t seated so close to Tara, she would have missed it.

“No,” she shook her head. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I should have just left work and come to you when you called.”

“You would have gotten fired.”

“But maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” You looked up at her, your eyes filled with tears once again. “I’m always there,” your voice cracked. “I should have been there.”

“Stop it,” Tara said, trying to keep her voice determined but it was hard with the tears she felt filling her eyes again as well. “Stop, please, you’re not allowed to blame yourself. I refuse to let you blame yourself. You didn’t cause this, you had nothing to do with this.” You buried your head in your hands but nodded, nonetheless.

After a little while you had turned on the TV and flipped through channels until Tara finally agreed to a channel that was showing some reruns. Tara wanted her laptop so she could watch whatever she wanted but that would mean asking you to go get it and she didn’t want you to leave. Tara watched you out of the side of her eye as you watched the TV, you had moved the side table over and pushed your chair against the bed. You had your arm propped up on the bed, absentmindedly playing with Tara’s hair. You were at an awkward angle and as much as Tara wanted you to, you couldn’t lay in bed next to her with her injuries, so this was the closest the two of you could get for the moment.

There was a long creak as someone opened the door to the hospital room without knocking. Tara’s eyes widened, she sat up in bed, ignoring the pain that shot through her. You were on your feet in seconds, glaring at the door, ready to attack whoever was entering.

Tara relaxed when she saw sheriff Hicks walk through the door, her eyes glued to her notepad. You were still tense, slowly relaxing as Judy put down her notepad and looked up at the two of you. Her mouth hung open, a greeting at the tip of her tongue, her eyes went from Tara, to you, to the door behind her, and back to Tara.

“I’m sorry!” Judy said sincerely. “I should have knocked. I was so caught up finishing up my notes,” she looked down at her notepad, flipping through pages as she rambled. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Judy looked back up at Tara. “There is an officer right outside your room,” she pointed back to the door. “No one is getting in here unless they’re authorized.”

“Thank you,” Tara whispered. She flicked a glance at you to see you slowly lowering yourself back into the chair. “Sorry, we’re just a little jumpy after…”

“You don’t need to explain,” Judy said softly, walking up to the side of the bed. She reached down, grabbed Tara’s hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to see you awake.” Judy gave her a soft smile.

Judy was one of a kind, she was a little embarrassing at times and Tara and Amber certainly loved to pick on Wes in a loving way because of it. Judy was the most loving parent around though, the only other parent that seemed to love her kids as much as Judy loved Wes was Mindy and Chad’s mom. Whenever the kids went over to Judy’s house, even now as teenagers, she always made baked goods before she left for work or as soon as she got back.

Tara knew her sister got into a lot of trouble with Judy, Tara was glad Judy never held Sam’s actions against her though. Judy wasn’t a fan of Tara’s mother either, Tara always tried to hide her home issues, but Judy always seemed to know. There were so many times after Sam left and their mom got drunk or went away on long business trips that Judy insisted Tara spend the night and she always made sure Tara never went hungry, whether it was inviting her over for dinner or dropping by with a casserole or something she insisted she had so much fun making dinner she just had to make a second one. Judy never drew attention to what she was doing, she never pressed Tara to talk about it, the few times she did Tara had shut down completely, after that Judy settled for silently helping anyway she could.

Judy also wasn’t the biggest fan of you. She never directly came out and said anything, she knew deep down she didn’t have any right, but there were little comments here and there when Tara started dating you. Judy would always give a tight-lipped smile and her voice went even higher than usual when you were around or when Tara and yours relationship was brought up. When Tara first told Wes she had kissed you, Judy had overheard and made a comment about you being too old for her. Tara had just rolled her eyes saying you were only two years older, technically closer to three, but Tara wasn’t going to get into that with Judy. Judy had dropped it, but it was always obvious she didn’t approve of your relationship.

“I was wondering if you were up for answering some questions?” Judy asked softly.

“She just woke up,” you snapped. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, trying to catch the psycho that did this?”

You were glaring at Judy, but she just gave you a sympathetic look. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said softly. “If you aren’t up for it, I can come back,” Judy looked at Tara.

Tara wanted to tell Judy she was tired and to come back later, she had no desire to relive what happened to her. She didn’t think she’d want to relive it later in the day or the next day either so she might as well just get it over with.

“Can Y/N stay?” Tara asked, looking at you. You smiled softly, resting a hand on her arm as you lightly rubbed it.

“Of course,” Judy answered, glancing at you before pulling up a chair of her own. She was near the hospital bed, her back to the door, the perfect spot to look at Tara as they spoke.

“Can you tell me about your night?” Judy asked, flipping open her notepad to a new page. “What you did, anything and everything, just talk, anything can be important.”

Tara nodded, looking at you before she took a deep breath as best as she could. “I was making dinner and called Y/N. They were at work and their boss yelled at them to hang up,” she started.

“What did you talk about?” your eyes flicked to Judy, but you didn’t say anything, you just kept your hand on Tara’s arm, trying to bring her comfort in anyway.

“I was trying to convince her to blow off work,” Tara admitted, blushing lightly. She glanced at you to see a small smile on your own face, but it was quickly shadowed in sadness and guilt. “We talked about graduation, me going to college, us moving out of this town.” Tara shrugged, “Normal stuff.”

Judy nodded, writing a couple things in her notepad. “And after you got off the phone?”

“I was texting Amber, wanted to see if she wanted to watch some movies.” Tara furrowed her brow, shaking her head. “It wasn’t Amber,” she whispered, staring at a spot at the end of the bed. “The phone started ringing.”

“Your phone?” Judy asked but her voice sounded muffled.

Tara shook her head. “Landline,” she said mindlessly. “It was some guy.” She could swear she heard you suck in a breath, but she didn’t turn to look at you. “Said he knew my mom. Figured he was just a new boyfriend,” she shrugged with an eyeroll. “He asked me my favorite movie; I didn’t think anything of it until he specifically started talking to me about Stab.”

“What about it?”

“He asked me if I remembered the opening and then started telling me about the opening kill scene, a girl home alone who answers an unknown number and starts talking to the killer.” Tears slowly started to fill her eyes. “Just like me,” she whispered.

“We can stop if you want,” Judy’s voice came again, this time accompanied by a soft hand resting on her uninjured arm.

“I texted Amber,” Tara continued, shaking her head. “It wasn’t Amber.” She continued shaking her head, the tears slowly began to fall. “He-he-he started quizzing me on Stab.” Tara’s breathing started to become heavy, she was gasping more, the walls were closing in on her. “He-he-he-” she was gasping, her eyes wide as she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Breath,” your voice cut through. Tara tried to focus on your voice, hearing you softly whispering to her. Tara felt a puff of air enter her and she slowly started to be able to breath again. “There you go,” you whispered. Tara’s eyes found yours only to see you standing up, one hand resting on her shoulder while the other held her inhaler to her mouth.

“Thanks,” she whispered, taking the inhaler from you with her good hand.

You let out a shaky breath and slowly lowered yourself back down into your chair. Tara blinked a few times, taking another hit of her inhaler before she set it down at her side, making sure to keep her fingers around it.

“Why don’t we stop for now,” Judy said as she began to stand up from her chair.

“No,” Tara said, giving Judy a determined look. “No, I can do this.” Judy looked from Tara to you then back to Tara before slowly lowering herself back down. “I got a question wrong, and he said he was going to kill Amber. I ran to the door, intending to help her but he was there,” she continued, jumping back right where she left off.

“That’s how he got in?”

Tara shook her head. “No, I got the door closed and locked it. I made sure the system was armed when I called the police but…” Tara’s eyes went wide, the little robotic voice going back and forth saying armed and disarmed filling her mind.

“What?” you asked softly, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Tara turned to you, focusing on your red rimmed eyes, full of nothing but love and concern for her. “He disarmed the system.”

“What?” your face went white.

“We went back and forth. As soon as I armed the system, he would disarm it. He could have gotten in at any time,” she sobbed. “He just wanted to fuck with me!”

Tara was sobbing uncontrollably but you were sitting at her bedside in a second, wrapping your arms around her, making sure to be mindful of her injuries. Tara didn’t care about her injuries, she buried her head in your neck, throwing both her arms around you and pulled you as tightly as she could against herself.

“Sorry,” Tara mumbled, wiping her eyes once she pulled away from you.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Judy said, standing up from her chair again. She looked over her notepad before flipping it closed and tucking it back in her pocket. “I think we’re good. Thank you.” She gave Tara a pat on the arm before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Tara reached for her phone, opening her messages but her thumb hovered over Amber’s name. “What’s wrong?” you asked, looking at her with worry.

“Amber’s phone was cloned, I can’t know if I’m texting her when I text her,” Tara answered. She scrolled a little further down, selecting Wes’s name. She shot Wes a quick text saying she was awake. Judy was a professional, but Tara was sure Wes had heard about the attack and was just waiting to hear from her or to question his mom.

Not a second later her phone buzzed, showing Wes had already messaged back. “Wes and the others are on their way,” she said.

You nodded, before scooting your chair up further so you could rest your arm around her head. Tara leaned into you, relaxing as you gently played with her hair. She tried to focus on the TV again as she waited for her friends to arrive. Her mind was plagued by who she could trust, why she was targeted, which of her friends potentially did this to her. Whoever did this knew her alarm system, they were either very skilled with technology and could hack into her system or this was someone she trusted.

[wordsmeetwbb]

Not Just Friends

Word count: 1.8k

Content: fluff

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: I needed a break from writing smut so here's a little something about Paige and Azzi figuring out they're gay! Obviously we don't know how this happened (if it happened, but let's be honest. they play women's basketball. the odds are high.), but this is just my take on how I think those realizations would have gone. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think!

________

Paige was 16 when she realized that what she felt for Azzi was more than just friendship. It was August, just over a year after they had met during USA basketball. They had settled into a routine over the summer. Although they were separated by half the country, they were closer than ever.

Every evening around eight o’clock, Paige Facetimed Azzi. More often than not, Azzi picked up on the first ring and they stayed on the call until one of them (Azzi) fell asleep. Paige missed Azzi with every fiber of her being, but she knew she was lucky to talk to Azzi as much as she did. She felt lucky that Azzi wanted to talk to her as much as she did.

On one of those Facetime calls, late into the night, Paige was yapping to Azzi while the brunette struggled to keep her eyes open. Really, it wasn’t Azzi’s fault. It was nearly two in the morning and Paige hadn’t stopped talking since midnight. She had tried to annoy Azzi into staying awake for a while, but then she felt bad and let the tired girl drift off, content to provide background noise with the endless amount of stories she wanted to tell Azzi.

“And then she like, she just fuckin’ chopped it! All of it! Like a foot of hair, Az. And I was like, ‘That’s crazy,’ and she was like ‘Not all of us have emotional attachments to our hair, Paige,’ but that’s not fair. I’m not emotionally attached, I’m just picky about my gameday hair, y’know?” Paige rambled to a mostly unconscious Azzi.

“Mhm,” Azzi mumbled. Through the screen, Paige could see the way the younger girl was nestled into the pile of blankets on her bed, clutching a unicorn stuffed animal. She smiled softly.

“Anyway, she tried to tell me I should cut my hair. And obviously, I said no, because how am I gonna do gameday braids with a fucking pixie cut, right? But she just wouldn’t let up so-” Paige cut herself off when she saw Azzi’s face relax. If she really thought about it, the reason she talked so much on these calls was because she knew Azzi fell asleep easier with background noise. And if she was extra motivated by the way the younger girl looked so peaceful in her sleep, well, that was her business and no one else’s.

Paige’s eyes traced every curve, line, and crease of Azzi’s face. Her skin glowed even in the dim room, the color darker than usual from the time she’d spent in the summer sun. Paige was confident that if she had any artistic ability whatsoever she’d be able to draw Azzi perfectly from memory. The way her eyelashes rested on her cheeks with her eyes closed, the light pink tint to her nose from a little too much time outside, the curve of her plump lips- Paige had it all memorized.

Paige hated ruining these soft moments where she just got to look at Azzi without the younger girl complaining about it, but as her eyes wandered around her face a thought popped into her head.

I’ve never looked at a guy like this. Paige paused, gaze stuck on Azzi’s perfectly curved eyebrows. What an odd thing to notice. A second thought. Paige wasn’t used to thinking during these Facetimes. She didn’t think she liked it, but the ideas seemed to have opened some kind of floodgates. More observations came pouring into her subconscious.

Her lips look so soft. I wonder what they feel like. Her eyes are such a pretty shade of brown, I wish I could see them right now. I’ve never felt like this about a friend.

Paige took a deep breath, startled by her train of thought. None of the thoughts surprised her. That was the whole problem. Azzi’s eyes were pretty, and her lips did look soft, and Paige did wonder what they felt like. She just hadn’t realized she thought any of those things.

Paige thought back to a few weeks ago when one of the girls on her team had been talking about her crush on some guy in the grade above them. The things her teammate had said about that guy had sounded a lot like everything Paige was thinking about Azzi.

Oh, Paige thought. I like Azzi.

It wasn’t anything revolutionary. Paige was pretty sure she had always liked Azzi. She just hadn’t known it. It wasn’t until nearly a year later when she and Azzi finally confessed their feelings to each other that Paige thought about what liking Azzi meant for herself.

“You never came out to me!” Azzi had exclaimed. Paige had frozen, staring at Azzi and really, truly not understanding.

“Come out to you?” she repeated. Azzi nodded, eyebrows drawing together.

“Yeah, like, are you bi? Lesbian? I came out to you months ago and I’ve been thinking you’re straight since we met, P,” she explained, looking at Paige like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” Paige said dumbly. Azzi just stared at her. “Uh, I guess I didn’t really think about it. Like, the whole not being straight thing. I just know I like you,” Paige shrugged. Azzi had blushed, the color intoxicating on her skin.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pushing Paige’s shoulder gently. Paige just grinned.

“As long as I can be your idiot.”

________

Azzi learned she was gay at three in the morning on a Thursday when she was 16. It had, in a very cliche fashion, been a dream that sparked the realization.

She had woken up, breathing hard, the blankets feeling far too hot, with memories of soft lips on hers taking up far too much space in her mind. She threw the blankets off, sitting straight up in bed, and had a full-blown gay panic.

The longer she sat there, the more pieces of the dream came back to her. At first, it was just gentle lips on her own, and then soft blonde hair running through her fingers, and then it progressed to memories of warm pale skin under her hands. Azzi squeezed her eyes shut.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she demanded to her brain. The clock was creeping closer to four in the morning, she had to be up for school in two hours, and she was being terrorized by completely non-platonic thoughts of her best friend. Azzi flopped face-down onto her bed and let out a scream into her pillow, realizing too late that the rest of her household was still sleeping and might have heard it.

Feeling frustratingly awake and completely insane, Azzi grabbed her phone off her nightstand and navigated into a new Google tab. “What does a dream about kissing someone mean?” she searched first. The results were straightforward, bluntly informing Azzi that dreams of kissing someone usually meant that you had romantic feelings for that person. That brought up new questions.

“How to know if I like girls?” was her next search. It was a ridiculous idea to Azzi. She had had crushes on boys before. Hell, she’d dated a boy in middle school, and as much as that wasn’t a real relationship, it definitely proved that she liked guys. So why the hell was she having a dream about kissing her best friend who was a girl? It didn’t make any sense.

“Why do I want to kiss a girl if I like guys?” Azzi tried, hoping that somebody on Reddit had the same problem as she did. Shockingly, there was a result. That’s how Azzi Fudd learned about bisexuality, and suddenly things made a lot more sense.

She tried to bring it up to Paige on their nightly Facetime that day, but Paige was being frustratingly dense.

“Hey, Paige? Have you ever thought about, like, dating somebody?” Azzi started. Paige startled, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Uh, yeah. But not like, for real. Don’t really wanna date people because like, ew, right? Anyway, I was thinking that next year-” Azzi, feeling disproportionately upset, ended the call. Mere seconds later, her phone was ringing with another Facetime from Paige. She let it ring for a while, wanting Paige to know that she hung up on purpose. Finally, she clicked to accept the call.

“What the hell, Az? I was telling you a story,” Paige complained. Azzi glared at her.

“And I was trying to tell you something, too.” Paige looked confused.

“But you asked me a question.”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of a leading question, dumbass? I was using it as an intro to something,” Azzi grumbled. Paige had the decency to look at least a little bit sorry.

“That’s my bad, Az. It was just kind of a weird topic. Sorry, you can tell me whatever you were going to. I won’t even interrupt this time,” Paige apologized. Azzi swallowed, losing her nerve now that the moment had been drawn out so much.

“I just… uh. I wanted to tell you that I learned about something,” she said, mouth unbearably dry. Paige nodded, prompting her to go on. “You know that people can like guys and girls?” Azzi blurted out. Paige’s eyebrows shot up, surprise coloring her face, but she nodded slowly. Azzi could feel her hands shaking. She knew Paige was religious, but she was suddenly considering that this could end negatively. She didn’t give herself time to consider that outcome.

“I’m bisexual,” Azzi said quickly. She felt like her heart might beat right out of her chest. Paige looked at her for a moment, studying her through the phone. Azzi shifted uncomfortably. “Can you say something?” She asked, tone unsure. Paige cleared her throat, expression softening. Azzi felt her body relax immediately, just from noticing the change in Paige’s body language.

“You know I’m proud of you for telling me, right?” Paige asked. Azzi blinked. That was not the response she was expecting.

“You’re… proud of me?” she repeated. Paige nodded, the movement jerky through the screen. A smile spread across Azzi’s face.

“Thanks, Paige.” Paige just nodded again, a small smile on her face now.

So, from the time Azzi had the dream of kissing Paige (the first of many) to the time she came out to the blonde, her gay crisis lasted about 16 hours. When she thought about it later, years down the road, she thought it made complete sense. Azzi overthought every single thing in her life except Paige. Realizing she was bisexual was easy because it was Paige. The girl who talked her ear off on calls every night, who sent her iMessage games at ungodly hours, who always knew how to comfort her. Just Paige. Liking Paige made perfect sense.

[byeoltoyuki]

Try

↳ Pairing: Seungmin x reader

❧ Genre: rivals to lovers / romance / smut

❧ Words: +4k

❧ Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f)

❧Summary : Years ago, he used to be your enemy.

No. Enemy was too strong to describe what Kim Seungmin was to you. Your rival was a better term. He was everything you weren’t; friendly, funny and effortlessly brilliant. You loathed him for that. And yet, when you meet him again years later, you just can’t deny that there’s something else between you too.

❧ A/N : Honestly, this one comes out of nowhere. I just needed to write so here it comes ♥ Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ♥

***

‘Trust your guts’.

It was your motto in life. A simple rule. And you abided by this rule half of your short lived life. But not tonight and you regretted it. Deeply.

The annual gathering with people from your college was an event your closest friends adored just so they could show some idiots that they had succeeded in life. You? You avoided it. An event you hated with all your heart. You always found excuses not to go. Your life depended on it.

Okay. Not really. Not your life at least. But definitely your ego.

You hated half of the people who attended the event. Back in college, they were so quick to judge, to talk behind your back and yet they expected you to be nice to them. To them, you were just a cold, nerdy girl with no friends. Someone they could easily mock. They hated your attitude. They hated your looks. But they also hated how easily you beat them every single time.

They were wrong.

Yes, you were a little nerdy back then, but you weren’t a cold person, just shy. And you had friends. Not many, but you didn’t need many to feel good. To be happy. Those you had, stuck by your side and they also happened to be the reason you had finally agreed to come to the gathering. You just couldn’t say no to Hyunjin and Yeji, not when those two formed an alliance against you. You had no chance against them.

You sighed to yourself. Would it be rude to grab your purse and leave? One nasty look from Hyunjin, as if he could read your mind, and you gulped nervously. Apparently it was. You slumped further into your chair and tried to keep up with the conversation. Same boring conversation. ‘Where do you currently work?’ ‘Are you soon getting married?’ ‘I’ve bought a house!’ Why did it have to be a competition? Couldn't they just enjoy a nice gathering and the meal?

“Hyunjin, I heard you’re flying to Paris for the fashion week.” Seoah were almost drooling as she spoke to Hyunjin. You cringed. She couldn’t make it even more obvious that she wasn’t just admiring him. No, she had something else on mind. Too bad, Hyunjin was a taken man even if she didn’t know that.

He smiled into his drink. “Yes, tomorrow.” He put his glass back on the table and glanced smugly at a silently fuming Juwon who always hated Hyunjin’s popularity. “I was actually supposed to leave today, but I couldn’t miss our annual gathering! It’s good to see you guys.”

What a liar. You had to bite your lips not to laugh at his words.

Juwon cleared his throat and averted his attention on you. Hell no. “You look different.” For once, it didn’t sound like an insult but you were still weary of him. No nice words coming out of his mouth could make you forget what kind of asshole he was. And you had a hard time to believe that he had actually changed.

“Do I?” You did look different from the past. You used not to care about your looks. Who cared how you looked as long as you had good grades? You certainly didn’t. Neither did your friends. But it changed. Ever since you started working at your art gallery, you understood the importance of how others perceived you. You learnt to do your makeup right. You took care of your long hair. And you changed your whole wardrobe. You got classier. And maybe tonight you put an extra effort to look good. Not that you needed to impress anyone, but you did it anyway.

“It suits you!” Another woman commented, genuinely excited. You couldn’t remember her name but you thanked her with a smile.

Yeji eyed you from the other side of the big table, thumbs up, her eyes telling you silently ‘told you so’. You ignored her. Just because you could.

“I wonder with what kind of man you ended.” Juwon was too curious for his own good.

“Oh come on.” Seoah laughed as if the idea of you dating was ridiculous. “I bet she’s still single.”

How typical of her to assume. Not that she was wrong, but her comment still pissed you. Did she think you were still the same woman as back in college? Just because right at this moment, you were indeed single, didn’t mean you refused dating. You did and got tired of it. Every relationship you had, always started nice, romantic even, but always ended the same way: you breaking up with the guy. They were nice men who truly cared for you but there was just something missing.

However, before you could share a piece of your mind with Seoah, you were interrupted.

“Sorry guys, I’m late!”

That voice.

That stupidly, annoying voice. Your whole body reacted; you shuddered, unable to breath, unable to think properly.

Kim Seungmin.

Here came a man you wished you could avoid for the rest of your life. You knew, your hatred for him was irrational. Compare to others, he had never done anything to you. Seungmin never mocked you, never made any bad comments. But he was your rival. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how many hours you spent in the library, studying, he still beat you every single time. It drove you crazy. But what made everything tenths time worse was the fact that Seungmin quickly caught on your little game and it amused him. You hated him for that too.

“You’re right on time!” Juwon pushed a chair for him. “We’ve been discussing Y/N’s love life!” His gaze slid to you and smirked. “Or lack of it.” Yep. Still an asshole, you were right.

Seungmin quirked a brow at Juwon’s words. You felt his eyes on you. On your face, on your neck, on your arms. Your skin burned under his gaze but you refused to acknowledge his presence for the sake of your sanity.

Maybe a tiny part of you expected Seungmin to comment Juwon’s words, maybe even laugh at it. But he did none of that. Instead you felt him only closer to you which made your unease grow with every passing seconds.

“Do you mind if we switch places?” Seungmin asked the girl beside you, taking the two of you completely off guard.

You opened your mouth, a protest on the tip of your tongue but the girl beside you was faster. She hurried to leave her spot. Seungmin flashed her a pretty smile and sat right next to you. Despite you wanting to avoid him, now that he sat so close to you, your arm brushing his, there was no escape. Now that you were staring right into his pretty, annoying, eyes, you knew: you were fucked.

“As for what you said Juwon. Lack of love life?” Seungmin repeated his words. He moved a little closer to you and before you could push him away, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you against him. “How come you didn’t tell them about us, babe?”

Loud gasps followed by whispers.

What.

What the actual fuck?!

If from outside you looked perfectly composed, at least to those who didn’t know you well enough, inside you were completely freaking out. His words made no sense. His body, his warmth that should have repelled you, felt actually nice.

Kim Seungmin was trying to help you. You heard him. You understood what he was saying but you didn’t understand why. You weren’t friends, not even close and you hadn’t seen each other for so long. I’ll deal with you later.

Something was wrong with you too because instead of pushing him away, you leant into him and accepted his help. “Because they wouldn’t have believed me. Should I remind you that we used to hate each other?” You reminded him and playfully poked his side.

Seungmin leaned closer, his lips so close to yours – you gulped but didn’t avert your eyes from his face. How annoyingly pretty he looked with his eyes shining brightly with mischief. Fine, he was helping you but he was clearly having fun too.

“Wrong.” He said and kissed the corner of your lips.

Gasps again.

Your heart skipped a beat. The corner of your lips tingled and you found yourself wishing his lips had stayed longer. What the actual fuck, Y/N. This whole night was a terrible idea and you kept making bad decisions. Getting drunk and hoping to forget everything seemed like a good idea right now.

“I never hated you.” He added and pulled back to face the others as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb at them. And at you. “What’s up?”

And just like that they started talking again. But you heard none of that. All you could hear was the sound of your roaring heart. All you could feel was the lingering feeling of his lips. All you could think about was Seungmin and this thing going on between the two of you tonight. ‘I never hated you.’ Fine. Maybe he never did but you weren’t on best terms either. You wanted to take him outside and talk to him. Was it his attempt at messing with you? Or was he really just being genuinely nice?

You noticed Hyunjin and Yeji staring at you, questions in their eyes. You didn’t blame them. They had to know none of it was real, they were your best friends. You wouldn’t have hidden something as big as dating Kim Seungmin from them.

“And you Yeji?” Seungmin’s voice brought you back from your reverie. “I heard your new song, it’s really nice.” You wanted to concentrate on what he was saying since he was talking about your friend. You couldn’t. Not when he put his hand on your thigh. Not when he made it look so natural. Not when, despite it happening under the table, it attracted attention on the two of you again.

It should feel wrong. In fact, you should be appalled by his boldness. You didn’t. It felt awfully nice. And right. Instead of pushing him away, you simply watch him talking. You didn’t want to admire his face but it was hard not to. Even if you weren’t fond of him, you weren’t blind. Kim Seungmin was handsome. Pretty eyes, pretty nose and even prettier mouth. Without realizing it, you licked your lips, wondering how it would feel against yours. Or at any other part of your body.

Oh my god. Did they put something in my drink? There’s no way I’m thinking about him. But you were.

Seungmin squeezed your thigh, the palm of his hand feeling suddenly too hot against your skin. He forgot all about his friends and leant closer. “If you keep staring at me like that we might have a problem.” He warned you.

Your breath caught in your throat and you couldn’t ignore how your face flushed. “When did you get so bold?” You whispered in return.

Seungmin smiled in response. A smile so beautiful, so bright, you wanted to keep it for yourself.

“Growing up does that to a person.” He whispered, his lips brushed your ear. “And also, you look really pretty tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from spreading all over your face even if you tried.

Kim Seungmin was a menace. But a very beautiful and annoying one.

“Okay, that’s enough.” One of the guy groaned. “Get a room. Some of us are sadly single and you two are just disgusting.”

Seungmin laughed heartily and unfortunately for you pulled away from you. A tiny part of you was relieved for the space, but another part of you almost whined at the loss of his warmth. Yeah, there was something wrong with you.

****

Somehow you managed to survive through the whole meal without a fight, without people trying to mess with you. In fact, you even managed to laugh a few times and it wasn’t just because of your friends’ jokes. And maybe it had everything to do with Seungmin.

“Should I drive you home?” Hyunjin whispered to your ear, making sure that nobody heard you.

It was the plan. You came with them and you were supposed to leave with them. You glanced at Seungmin and you couldn’t believe yourself: you were hesitating. You could leave with your friends but then you wouldn’t be able to talk to him and have a chance to thank him for his help.

Seungmin was faster to react. “I’ll take her home. Right babe?” He grabbed your jacket from your chair and waited for you.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at his words, tempted to pull you back against him. You patted his back. “I should go with Seungmin.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, surprised with your answer. You gave him a small smile and promised to text him and Yeji later.

Seungmin waited for you. Your body moved on its own accord. When you were close enough, Seungmin helped you to put your jacket on. You were thankful he couldn’t see your flushed face.

“There. All good.” He told you. “Are you ready?”

You were not.

***

You didn’t want the drive to your place to be awkward but it was. You didn’t know how to start the conversation with him. You knew nothing about this Kim Seungmin or how to deal with him.

“Thank you for tonight.” You said awkwardly without looking at him.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him glance at you. You expected him to make a comment, to make it easier for you but he didn’t. He returned his attention to the road. Damn him.

You sighed and slumped further into your seat. “I still don’t understand why you helped me.” This time, you looked at him.

Seungmin shrugged. “They were being dicks for no good reason.”

True, they were but it wasn’t anything new. Seungmin never stood up for you before so why now? “You didn’t need to pretend though.” He could have said anything but no, he chose to play your fake boyfriend instead.

Seungmin parked the car by the entrance of your building and then fully faced you. His eyes sparked with delight and something else. “I admit; it wasn’t my plan. But then, I had one look at you and couldn’t help myself.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “So you were messing with me.”

“Maybe a little.”

So damn infuriating. You hurried to unbuckle your seatbelt and opened the door.

“I wasn’t joking you know.” Seungmin stopped you with his words, realizing that if he wanted for you to talk to him, he needed to be genuine. “I never hated you.” He sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “I loved how competitive you were. When I realized how clever you were, it pushed me to work harder, to make sure I stayed on the top. And maybe to annoy you a little too. I remember how you used to scrunch your nose whether you saw I got a better grade than you. So adorable.” He smiled at the memory.

Seungmin left you speechless. Why was he making it sound like he was actually fond of you? And why the hell did his words melted you on the spot? You needed to hurry up; grab your purse and leave this car before you did something unthinkable. But as you stepped outside of his car, your body froze, refusing to leave. I’m losing my mind, that’s it.

“Give me your phone.” You turned back and outstretched your hand. It was a bad idea. Terrible idea. But then again, it was just another one to add to the list of bad ideas. Who cared?

Seungmin didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. You refused to delve on the matter as you quickly saved your number in his phone. “Call me when you want.”

‘And maybe soon.’ But you didn’t say it.

***

You barely made it inside your flat – your phone rang with an unknown number. You stared at your phone, your heart skipping a beat. You didn’t want to think it could be Seungmin. But were you hoping? Maybe.

“Hi.” You instantly recognized his gentle voice.

You couldn’t help it. You chuckled at his eagerness. “You know, usually people wait few days to call back.”

“Open your door.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Too taken aback, you did as he asked without thinking. And here he was. “Did you follow me?!”

Seungmin smiled sheepishly and put his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry. I-“

Was he nervous? “What are you doing, Seungmin?”

Seungmin took a deep breath and took a step inside your flat. The right thing to do would be to tell him to leave. It was too soon and you weren’t in the right mind. You did none of that.

“I’m desperate.” He admitted.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer to you. You knew that if you let him get too close to you, something could happen. And you didn’t completely dislike the idea. Seungmin halted right before you. His eyes blazed with so much intensity, you gulped nervously.

Gently, Seungmin took your hand and pulled it toward him to press against his chest. You jolted, surprised to feel his heartbeat. Wild. Strong. And his hand so warm. “I was a coward in college and missed my chance. I can’t do it a second time, Y/N. I can’t let you slip between my fingers again.”

Your eyes darted back and forth between your hand against his chest and his eyes. “Are you confessing, Seungmin?”

“What if I am?” He dared you, his grip on your hand tightened. Maybe a little part of him was actually scared of rejection. But he held strong.

You could pull away from him and forget his words.

You could, but you didn’t.

His words stirred something inside you. It made you curious. What if instead of looking for a guy that was nice, you went for the guy who loved to compete with you? A guy who, without you even realizing it, pushed you to be the best version of yourself? You had nothing to lose. So you did something completely out of your character. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, feeling all of him against you. His body strong and firm against you.

“I’d say you need to show me just how much you like me.”

Seungmin growled at your words and instead of answering you, he claimed your mouth. So eager. So desperate. There was nothing sweet about this kiss and you didn’t mind. Seungmin poured years of frustration and need into the kiss. Poured all his feelings, his longing and you gladly took it all.

You moved through the room without breaking the kiss until your thighs met the edge of your table. You didn’t think twice as you sat on top of it, spreading your legs for him to settle against you. You felt it then, how hard he was, how much he wanted you. You would be lying if you said you weren’t wet and excited for what he could do to you.

Seungmin broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?”

You thought it was sweet that he still tried to control himself. That he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable with him touching you. If only he knew how bad you needed him right now. “Hundred per cent sure.” You confirmed and pecked his nose.

“Well then,” Seungmin’s lips moved from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, to your jaw. “I think I want a dessert.” He kissed your shoulder and gently slid the straps of your dress exposing your aching breasts. “So beautiful.” He licked his way from one breast to another – he took one of your breasts in his mouth, playing with you, teasing you.

You moaned softly, your hand nestled in his hair, you pushed his head against your chest. You were right, his mouth felt perfect against your skin and you thought it would be so easy to get addicted. “Touch me.” You begged, the throbbing between your legs getting too much.

“I’m touching you.” He teased, knowing damn well where you needed him the most.

“Seungmin.” You groaned and tug at his hair.

He groaned and bit playfully on your nipple. “Be nice.” With that he hiked your dress higher. He grabbed your panties and tore them off you.

You gasped loudly. “Did you just tear my panties?!”

He chuckled. “Sorry.” He was definitely not sorry judging by his smirk. You took note to make him pay later for it.

Seungmin spread your legs wider and licked his lips at your exposed pussy glistening with your wetness. “Look at that. Already so wet and I barely touched you.” He teased your sweet pussy by dragging a finger from your clit to your entrance, loving how you shivered at this simple touch.

“Seungmin, please.” You begged shamelessly and pushed your hips, needing to feel more.

“Do you want that?” He pushed his fingers deep inside you. So easily. In and out. Slower at first and then faster, watching as you threw your head back, your lips parted. Your soft moans filled the room and it was the sweetest melody to his ears.

Slowly, Seungmin dropped to his knees. Your dizzy mind barely registered what he was doing – he gently scraped his teeth over your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing. The moment he wrapped his lips around your clit, you lost it.  A loud moan escaped your lips. He feasted on you eagerly; his mouth, his fingers, he was slowly driving you crazy and you could only beg for more.

“Oh my god, Seungmin.” You mewled and ground against his face.

He was good. Too good. His mouth was divine. He worked his magic so well, you could feel your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“I’m so close. Please.”

Seungmin hummed against your pussy. “Come then.”

And you did. Your whole body trembled as your orgasm washed over you. But he didn’t stop. Seungmin kept sucking on your clit, enjoying how you writhed and tried to pull him away from you, too sensitive from your orgasm.

Seungmin straightened up and slowly pulled out his fingers from your pussy. He watched you, smiling lazily as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.

“Shit.” You clenched around nothing at the sight. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so sinful.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him into another bruising kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “I need you inside me right now.”

“So bossy.” He chuckled, “What if I want to play more with you?”

You considered it for a moment. You wouldn’t mind him playing with you. But right now, you wanted him buried deep inside you. You wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember why in the hell you considered him as your enemy for so long. Wanted him to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember your name.

You reached between your bodies and started working on his belt and then his zipper. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to play with me later.”

Seungmin arched a brow, amused with your confession. “Will I?”

“Hell yeah.” You grabbed his cock. He was hard and angry and dripping pre-cum. You salivated at the sight. Kim Seungmin was perfect and you were dying to find out how hard he could ruin you. “Please, wreck me?” You asked as nicely as you could manage.

Seungmin shook his head, laughing fondly. “How can I say no to you?”

Seungmin drove into you. One deep thrust that made you grab his arms, holding for your dear life.

“Fuck.” You moaned and tried to compose yourself. He felt perfect, stretching you, filling you just like you needed.

Seungmin dragged his cock slowly at first, letting you time to adjust and maybe also trying to compose himself. Despite all his talk about playing, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted to lose control and drive you mad. “You were made for me, Y/N.” He grunted, his control slipping little by little. “Fuck.”

“Don’t hold back, please.” Who cared if he ruined you? Who cared if you couldn’t walk tomorrow? You didn’t.

And he didn’t. Seungmin slammed back into you. His thrusts hard. Deep. Reaching all the right spots. Making you cry out his name. Making you whimper. “You are so fucking perfect.” He hissed as you clenched around him.

“Please, please, please.” You didn’t know what you begged for anymore. Was for him to go harder? To go deeper? To slow down? You couldn’t tell. Your mind was overwhelmed. Your body was burning.

Seungmin kept a brutal rhythm, his thrusts vicious, his grip on your body strong, fingers digging into your skin. It would leave marks and you could only wish for more. Let the world see that someone made you feel so good. Let the world see that you belonged to him.

His hand reached between your bodies and rubbed your clit. There was no escape. You came in a loud cry, wildly, explosively, your body shaking. Seungmin fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts getting sloppier, his grunts louder, seeking his own release.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and claimed his mouth, swallowing his groan as he came deep inside you, trembling against you.

Seungmin rested his head in the crook of your head, panting. For a moment, you didn’t talk and savored just the moment and the press of your sweaty bodies. It felt nice. It felt good. Perfect.

With your orgasm came clarity. “Why haven’t we done it sooner?” You laughed.

Seungmin bit on your collarbone in response. “Because we had other priorities in college.”

That you did. “What a shame.” You sighed dramatically. “Guess we have some serious catch up to do, don’t you think?”

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 2

construction worker!rafe who spends his days ‘lifting heavy stuff and building shit’ and driving shy!reader home, shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

c/w: fluff, smut: slight somnophilia, dry humping, p-in-v, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.7k

so this story was supposed to be just a small drabble consisting of a few silly sentences but then i got a bit carried away..

series masterlist

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

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment.  

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her. 

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) when she gingerly opens the door, mentally preparing to face a serial killer.

However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her. 

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” a surprised look paints over her countenance.  

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might want it back,” he smiles, holding out a phone to her, the pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.  

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.  

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke. 

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance; a worn-out t-shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it.

She’s not wearing anything else and he’s trying his hardest not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair.

She swallows nervously under his attention.  

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never ended up doing anything when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for an entire week after the particularly long shift she’d had.  

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder before letting her get some much needed rest, telling himself he could be patient.

However, she’s not making it very easy for him when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her at the moment— she looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms right now and slump down on her bed, crawl under crisp sheets and feel her lungs expand against his chest.  

“Uh, sorry, did I wake you?” he asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.  

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.  

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” she clumsily offers, not wanting him to go just yet.

His brows raise in surprise because she’s being uncharacteristically bold, making his mouth twist in amusement. 

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and jus’ wanna go home, sorry, don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown accustomed to.  

“Nah, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold before taking a look around her cozy home; picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls and leafy plants adding greenery to the small space. It’s cute, he thinks.  

She sets a steaming mug in front of him when he takes a seat around the kitchen table. And when she sits down on a chair next to him, he can’t help but stare at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up, revealing the tops of her thighs and allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out.

He clears his throat.  

“You, uh, you have trouble sleeping a lot?” he tries to focus on something else, anything else while taking a quick sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.  

“Yeah…sometimes it’s jus’ kinda hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. Like I try to close my eyes, but then the loud voices of customers and the clinking of plates keep replaying in my head and suddenly m’wide awake, you know?”

“Is there anything that helps?” he prods.  

“Um, I don’t know, I guess jus’ trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out. 

“Oh yeah? So, what you’re sayin’ is that you’re just usin’ me right now in order to fall asleep?” he teases, grinning when he manages to drag out another giggle from her.  

“Guess I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she blinks up at him.  

“Should I feel offended right now?” he jokingly huffs.  

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.” 

He thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy; a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape his tongue.

“You, uh, you into cuddling?” he asks, noticing how her eyes round out in surprise.

“Uh— I mean, probably if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond. 

“Wanna cuddle with me?” he says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent about this whole situation when she feels almost dizzy; dazed mind reeling and her vivid heart tingling in her ribcage. 

“You, um…you want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?”

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” his brows crease. 

“Yes, of course we are, I just—” 

“Look, all m’sayin’ is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having somethin’ else to focus on ‘n shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this when he’s simply trying to help.  

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees before swiftly getting up on wobbly feet—nearly falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at the sudden proximity.  

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he chuckles, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him rather amusing.  

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.  

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle— caging her in with mindless fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter shut.  

“You good?” he murmurs into her hair.

“Mhm,” she blissfully hums, letting out a content exhale because he’s so warm and big— making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.  

Soon, her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy.  

‘Sweet dreams’ is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a place where the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.

- - - - - - - - - - -

She’s lethargic in her movements when she stirs from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in with Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his.

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what woke her up because it’s still murky in her unlit bedroom— the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots of her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.

Then, she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass.

There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization. He’s hard.

Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more. 

She swallows.  

What is she supposed to do? 

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low rumble— his grip only tightening around her smaller form.  

“Rafe?” she calls out. 

No response.  

“Rafe? Wake up.”  

Still nothing. 

She can feel his heavy breathing against her neck—bigger hands pawing at her hips every now and then and trying to pull her closer, as if they’re not already effectively glued together, leaving her no space to move.  

She’s already beginning to grow sticky between her thighs when he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in some sort of a stupor.  

She can’t help but let out a faint mewl when her clit throbs, pestering for more friction since the soft fabric of her underwear is not even close to enough, more or less torturing her with the its cottony graze.

And that’s when Rafe finally stirs, the weight of his arm loosening like a tight knot unfurling, finally allowing for her lungs to greedily suck in the air of the quiet room.

“Shit— sorry, my bad,” his tone is gravelly, and she could swear some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides in response.

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects. 

“It’s…uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries, it happens,” she rambles with heated cheeks because what the fuck is she supposed to say to that? 

“Nah, s’fully my fault, jus’ had this, uh, nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse. 

“Oh. What was it about?” she inquires with a yawn, perhaps slightly too curious for her own good.  

“You wanna know?” his brows raise. 

She manages a hum.

“Well, there was this, uh, real pretty girl…‘n she had me in her mouth ‘n was lettin’ me do whatever I wanted,” he murmurs, a heady tone overlaying his response.  

“Oh.” She tries to appear indifferent, even if there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom in the pit of her stomach.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?”

He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here? 

“So, what else happened?”  

“What else? Okay, then she, uh, let me do this,” he confesses at the same time as he grabs at her hips again before pushing against her, earning a whimper when she can feel how big he is through the thin material of her underwear. 

“Rafe…what’re you doing?” she asks through a whine— his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Got no idea what you’re doin’ to me, do you?”

“I— what are you…what’re you talking about?” her brain is foggy, unable to think straight when he’s so close. However, he doesn’t respond, merely continues the retelling of his dream.

“Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper— shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock.

Somewhere along the way, her inhale gets stuck in her throat, mindlessly moving her achy cunt over him and causing him to let out a heartfelt grunt.

“Needy little thing likes this, huh?” he helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips and dragging her over his cock— filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.  

“Rafe, can you…”  

“Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” he says while already slipping a hand in her panties; petting at her puffy clit, earning a surprised moan from her before she lifts up the hem of her shirt for a better view.  

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Gettin’ real fuckin’ wet from me just bein’ close to you, huh?” his thumb rubs lazy circles over her sensitive button, making her cry out as she presses down harder against his cock. 

“Shit, gonna come in my fuckin’ pants if you keep doin’ that…you wanna know what else was in m’dream?” 

She nods, frantic.  

“Pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, did this,” he mumbles out as he takes himself out, causing her eyes to round out when she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head on her clit— one, two, three times, and then he’s smearing it over her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean; pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out and turning her into a whimpering mess.

The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked to where they connect, fascinated. “Fuck, sweetheart, does that feel nice?” he asks, thumbing over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper and forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.

“Feels so good, Rafe, think m’gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.  

“You gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his features while he keeps nudging his dick about halfway in and then out, never fully plunging it inside.  

“You feel so…can’t— can’t hold it,” watery droplets gather in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as her teary eyes look into larimar and she keeps rolling her hips against him, chasing after a release. 

“Go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” he encourages, and she doesn’t need to be told twice before she’s crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him. 

“There you go, fuckin’ give it to me,” he grunts, and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching—rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he finally stuffs his cock inside her, to the hilt.

Then, he’s stilling inside her and groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim— making her feel so full.

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.  

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him and burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.  

She thinks she could die happy right now.  

“Did so good for me, shit, should do this more often, yeah?” he says with a sleepy tinge.   

And she’s completely out of it; head as empty as ever and merely managing a hum of agreement before she’s tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hello!! could you write about spencer catching sunshine reader during a sad time? like perhaps reader has very rarely shown spencer what she gets like when shes sad, so when he catches her, she is stubborn at first and doesn't want to open up, but eventually eases into it? thank you :))

Cw: mentions of parents venting to their kids, being sad

Wc: 1.4k

You’re not sure what you'd done to deserve a day like today exactly, only that you’d woken up and from the very first moment you’d had a hard time of it.

Your planned outfit had a stain, you forgot to make extra dinner to have for lunch, you cut your ankle shaving and then your mom called.

Calls with her have a habit of being fifty fifty. It can either be a good call, or it can be a call where she uses you as a sounding board for all her negative thoughts, worries and despite the many times you’ve told her to stop, she hasn’t.

It’s safe to say by the time you walk into work you don’t even have the energy to smile- you’re using it all not to cry.

Not even your back up outfit is working it's magic- a green top with brown pants, your favourite outfit to feel like a hobbit.

Emily calls you into the round table room as soon as you walk in, giving you a little more reason to avoid Spencer’s curious gaze.

Spencer doesn’t really take into account just how bad your mood is till you volunteer to stay in Quantico with Penelope rather than go out in the field.

“Y/n?” He touches your elbow gently as the rest of the team go for their bags. It’s just you and him in the round table room and your hands shake from holding back tears.

Spencer hasn’t ever seen you this upset, sure during a case you’re mad at the things you guys read and uncover, but this is a different type of upset and Spencer doesn’t really know what to do with it.

He just knows he wants to make it better.

“Yeah Spence?” You try to keep your voice even, knowing he’ll only worry more and the case needs his worry more than you do.

“What’s going on? You haven’t looked up at me once and you keep scrunching your nose. You also haven’t smiled since you got here.” He’s a profiler to his core, but this is just you and him, of course he’d notice everything.

You shrug, scrunching your nose again. “The case isn’t exactly something to be happy about, is it?”

Spencer knows what you’re trying to do, but you don’t get the tone right for anger- you just sound defeated.

“Either way, you and Penelope have a knack for smiling through it and you haven’t even tried once.” Ever soft, ever tender are the words that escape him.

He bends his knees a little, chasing your eyes. “What is it?” Spencer’s thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, wanting nothing more than to help.

“Spencer, can we talk about it when the case is over?” You can feel the pressure of the tears behind your eyes and you don’t want to cry here.

Not where anyone can see.

You’d much rather do it at home, where you can curl up under your blanket and sob until you lose your voice.

“Alright, but we will talk; yeah?” You nod and Spencer squeezes your forearm, a firm and soothing pressure on your skin.

The case takes a day and a half to wrap up, and you’re barely holding it together- Penelope lent you her favourite unicorn desk pal for the entire case and also her fluffy pen.

“I’m sorry, babe. You’ll feel better once this is over and you can have a good cry.” She says, your head on her shoulder as you wait for your team to come back.

You nod, “How badly do you think Spencer will react if I start crying now?” Your throat is tight with emotion- honestly you’re not sure if it’s just from your previous day or also the exhaustion of working into the next evening.

“Oh, pretty bad,” she says and you chuckle, a few tears rolling freely down your face. “But I think he’ll be more worried.”

Before you can say anything, there’s a knock on Penelope’s door and you already know who it is- only Spencer knocks. You wipe away the tears hoping that will be enough to hide them from Spencer- it likely won’t be.

“See you tomorrow Pen,” you say, gathering your things and opening the door.

Spencer looks more tired than you expected and you have to assume you don’t look so rested either.

“You’re back,” he nods, taking your satchel bag from you and reaching for your hand.

“What’s wrong?” He murmurs, leading you to a secluded spot in the hall. Spencer doesn’t say it, but your eyes bare all your emotions even if your face is neutral. They’re red and they’ve got a sad look about them, just completely and utterly exhausted. Spencer wants to help any way he can.

You debate how you should start, if you should just tell him about your bad day from beginning to end or if you should just tell him about your weird relationship with your mother and let him fill in the blanks from there.

You decide it wouldn’t be fair to Spencer because he never had you guessing when he’s sharing things so you won’t do it to him.

“Um,” you can already feel the pressure building behind your eyes again. “Yesterday was off to a terrible start, nothing was going quite right from the moment my feet hit the floor.”

Spencer nods, listening quietly as you wring your hands tightly. He takes them easily, holding them in his own and stroking the skin on the back of your hand.

“Then my mom called which could really go either way, and I had to listen to her complain about my dad and every other thing in her life and it gives me a lot of anxiety hearing some of the things and she just wouldn’t stop.”

Your tears are rolling freely now and Spencer pulls you to his chest, fear of germs be damned.

He quiets his own feelings about you crying and about the way you sound recounting your day.

“She just says these things like I’m supposed to be the one to fix them and I can’t and she’s mad that I can’t and it just messes with me sometimes.”

Spencer can deduce what you’re too kind to say- it isn’t your fault or your problem and you shouldn’t be made to feel like it’s your responsibility to make it right.

Your hands shake against Spencer’s back and he sighs, squeezing you just a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry,” his hands coast up and down your back, massaging at the nape of your neck when he reaches there. “I’m sorry she puts it on you, and I know that you’re aware it isn’t your problem to solve but you can’t help that either. Maybe over time she’ll come to realise that you can’t solve all of the things she tells you.”

You nod, trying to stop hiccuping against him. “M’sorry about your shirt Spence.” He laughs, nose in your hair as he holds you.

“It’s okay,” you sniffle harshly trying to clear your sinus. “Want to come over and watch Lord of The Rings?” This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been there- you’ve spent nights there after drinks with the team and movie nights just the two of you.

All the same it’s a shocking proposal from Spencer right after a case, you know he likes to decompress in his own way.

You gasp, leaning back from his arms a little. It’s hard to miss the care displayed so clearly in his gaze. It’s harder to fight the urge to kiss him. “The extended versions?” Spencer notes that you’ve a little more spark in your tone, a little more life in your eyes.

“Yeah, I think we can make it through the entire trilogy if we hurry.” There’s a grin on his lips as he says it.

“Spencer, don’t play with me here. We’re talking serious business.” He laughs, hiking your bag higher on his shoulder as he watches you wipe your tears.

“I’m not playing. Is your go-bag full or do you want to stop by your place on the way to mine?” He hopes secretly that you don’t have your own sleep clothes, it’s a selfish want to see you in one of his shirts or even a cardigan.

“I have clothes, we can go straight there. And you’re driving, you have all the maps in your head with the shortest routes.”

Spencer nods, like he was ever going to make you drive. “Plus you’re a hazard on the road, absolute chaos behind a wheel.”

Spencer feels his chest lighten when your laugh explodes from you, loud and so like yourself as you wait for the elevator to open.

[slxtarchive]

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬. ᥫ᭡ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. you and chris have been best friends since you were younger but one night changes everything…

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. would you be down to write about chris and the reader are best friends who hookup and he confessed that he wants them to be more? — anon

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 soft smut, loss of virginity, mentions of blood. 18+ mdni !

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. this is part one of the request! the reason it took a while is because i wanted to get both parts out at the same time! hope you enjoy :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 2.2k+

PART 1. PART 2.

“you stayin’ the night tonight?” chris asked with a glimmer of hope in his voice. the nights where you stayed were his favorite because you’d both stay up for hours just talking and messing around. reminiscing and watching movies. your favorite thing to do together was binge-watch movies and shows.

“i gotta see because i have class in the morning.” you huffed. “he did say something about possibly canceling but he hadn’t said anything yet.”

“well, maybe you can still stay and if he doesn’t end up canceling then you can go and we can go out for lunch afterward. most of your stuff is here anyway.” he gestured to his closet. he was right. you practically had half of your wardrobe in his closet so there wasn’t a need to go back home and get anything. you even had your own toothbrush and shit.

“i mean, yeah sure. who knows maybe i can skip.” you said mischievously earning a laugh from him.

“yeah… like you’d skip.” he went to turn off his room like before lay down on his bed and turned on his bedside lamp.

“i would.” you stated, jumping onto his bed and falling down onto your back right next to him.

“you hardly ever skipped in high school! miss all straight a’s.” he rolled his eyes. “hardly ever did anything.. how do you say. bad girlish.”

“oh and you did so much?” you propped yourself up in your elbow to look toward him.

“i mean, i would skip and shit.” he shrugged. “but i also took care of my shit like grades n’lacrosse.”

“the only reason you skipped was because you were hooking up with that one girl. i forgot her name but she was so mean!” you scoffed at the mention of her.

“we never hooked up! we just made out in her car.” he defensively said.

“oh really? what about homecoming when she practically shouted to the whole world that you two had sex.” you raised your brows. “she’d even mimic how she sounded too. blech; she disgusted me.”

he furrowed his brows. “we never did anything. she tried to but i turned her away.” he stated.

“wait so you’re still a virgin? you didn’t even hook up with that other girl you were close with?” you looked down at your nails.

“nah.. i'm serious they kind of all creeped me out.” he shook his head. the news did sort of come as a shock to you considering all the talk you had heard in high school but in reality, deep down you knew that chris wasn’t like that.

“what about you though? you talked to that one guy..what was his name? caleb or something.” his nostrils flared.

“oh fuck that guy. he tried to do shit with me but he was so fucking weird i was like no thank you.” you waved off. “i always felt that he carried at least five fucking diseases on him.” you laughed earning one from chris too.

“wow, so we're both virgins. learn something new every day huh.” he said, his voice getting quieter.

you looked at chris with a smile on your lips feeling somewhat happy that no one’s gotten that part of him yet. when thinking about if they did or not you felt a jealous sting — like usual.

“yep.” you pursed your lips.

chris licked his bottom lip shamelessly staring at yours. he blinked slowly. “i’m glad no one got that part of you.. yet.”

“yet?” you asked, confusion laced in your tone. you studied his eyes, the only thing illuminating the room was the lamp on the table by his bed. the lighting highlights certain features of his face.

“do you want it to happen with someone you trust, y/n?” his breathing picked up. you could audibly hear it as the room was silent.

“i mean… id definitely hope so.” you said quietly. you hadn’t noticed how close chris got until his hand moved some hair out of your face. he wanted to be able to see your beautiful eyes and pink lips.

“yeah?” was all he said. the heat of his body was making its way toward yours. your stomach was twisting and turning. it was doing jumping jacks and was inhabited by butterflies.

“chris?” your voice pierced the silence; barely below a whisper.

“mm?” he responded, as he studied your face and the way your eyes glanced at his lips. that was all he needed to see before he leaned forward and connected your lips in a small kiss.

he started off slowly, not wanting to scare you. he wanted you to kiss him back. you were in shock. you let him kiss you for a few seconds before you started moving your lips along with his.

he pulled away once you started to kiss him back. you leaned forward trying to reconnect your lips but he pulled back with a grin. he then leaned forward, your lips connecting just slightly before he pressed them onto yours once again.

his hand came up to the back of your neck pulling you closer to him allowing him to deepen the kiss and fortunately for you — to take control.

the further he pressed, the more you were inclined to lean back causing you both to settle into a comfortable position where you were on your back and chris was on top of you.

you were addicted to the way he tasted. the way he sensually moved his lips with yours. the way when you both ran out of breath and had to pause chris couldn’t for long and was practically gripping your waist showing he wanted more.

this went on for minutes before he made the move to trail his soft kisses down your neck. your eyes fluttered open as if to try to differentiate whether you were dreaming or not — you weren’t. chris was 100% kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on your skin to mark you. his marks were closer to your collarbone but still not to where they won’t be visible.

chris was worried when he thought about how you might feel if he marked you up for people to see. in his dream world you wouldn’t mind it because they were from him but it was something you two would need to talk about; or at least he hoped.

the sweatshirt that you were wearing was getting in the way of his lips making a trail down further so he paused to ask, “can i take this off?” he said breathlessly — sounding like a total dream.

“mhm.” you responded, just as breathless as he was. you were so needy you took the action into your own hands as you sat up. he moved back to give you space before helping you with your sweatshirt.

you both took it off before you threw it aside. he stared down at you admiring your beauty. he got a weird feeling in his stomach. he didn’t know what it meant in the moment but he’d find out.

you wanted him to kiss you already so you pulled him by his shirt to connect your lips again. he moaned at the contact, starting to feel uncomfortable in his clothes around his lower area.

“you’re so beautiful.” he thought out loud against your lips.

you blushed resting your hands in his fluffy hair. “chris.” you whimpered very needy. you were fiddling with his shirt.

“yeah baby?” he let the name slip out. you liked it.

“need you.” you felt your arousal more than ever — it made wearing underwear uncomfortable.

“yeah?” he grinned lifting up your shirt. you took the gesture as a sign so you quickly took it off leaving you in your black bra. “how bad?” his voice was so soft and sexy. you wanted to hear it all the time.

“so bad.” you took your turn lifting up his shirt. he looked down watching you struggle. “cmon, please.” you begged lifting this shirt up more.

“okay okay.” he gave in and took his shirt off throwing it to the side. he then combed your hair back with both hands before grabbing your face pulling it toward him placing kisses all over your face. “always thought you were so pretty.” he murmured. he was drunk on you. on your taste.

“show me how pretty i am.” you trailed your hands up and down his chest. you stared at each other longingly before he connected your lips once more.

you both had another make-out session before you were on your back with him on top. he put on a condom he had pulled out from the depths of his closet and you both were ready.

“tell me if it hurts okay?” he wanted to make sure you both communicated. he wanted to make this memorable for you without hurting you too much. “i don’t know how long i’ll last, baby.”

“it’s okay it’s okay.” you murmured. “i’ll tell you if i need a break okay?”

he nodded kissing you once more before lining himself up. he gently pushed into you slowly groaning at how tight but smooth at the same time your pussy was. “fuck” he groaned at the same time you did.

“shit — ” you winced, the burn was like a kick to the stomach. “slow slow.” you repeated almost out of air.

“okay, baby im sorry. fuck.” chris hated seeing you in pain.

“just let me get used to it.” you breathed in and out. it was going to be okay. you would get used to him. is what you told yourself. well, you had hoped. he was a bit big.

time past and you and chris communicated until he bottomed out.

you had tears in your eyes as the stinging slowly went away. you felt so full. you couldn’t believe that your best friend's dick was inside you. he was full on inside you.

you opened your eyes that had been clenched shut to see chris holding back moans. he was biting his lip stopping himself from trying to move.

“okay, i think im ready.” you spoke up. he looked down at you and then at your bodies together.

“you sure?” he wanted to make sure that you weren’t accommodating to him.

“yes, im sure.” you nodded before connecting your lips again.

“m’gonna go slow,” he muttered against your lips earning a nod from you. he slowly started pulling out of you then pushing back in earning a loud whine from you. the sting was still there.

chris on the other hand was in a state of euphoria. he couldn’t believe this was happening. his sleek hair fell over his forehead as he was thrusting in and out of you slowly.

after a few times, he repeated his actions, and your pain started to form into pleasure. your mouth fell agape as you felt the first wave of pleasure make its way up your body. you felt chris hit a spot in you that had you going feral.

“h-holy fuck chris.” you gasped as one of his thrusts were particularly strong. he looked down at you with a concerned look on his face.

“mm — m’sorry sorry. just feels so good.” he whimpered, the noise sending you butterflies and chills throughout your body.

“faster.” was all you said as your hand was trailing over his back. you tried not to dig your nails in as he picked up his pace with a cheeky smile on his face but each thrust caused your nails to drag up his spine — knowingly giving him red marks. “so good. so good.” you repeated.

“god, i’m gonna fucking cum.” chris moaned, combing his hair back to allow you to see his expression for a split second. the picture was burned into your brain. chris was sweaty with his eyebrows furrowed. his lips red and irritated from the amount of times he’s bit them to hold back his moans. his eyes clenched shut because of the pleasure he was receiving.

the sight alone had the rubber band in your stomach on the brim of snapping. “chris… fuck chris. im gonna cum.” you cried as his thrusts got rougher by the second as he chased after his orgasm.

“go on, baby. let go for me, yeah? please, i need it.” he puffed out, winded. what really drove you to the edge was when chris reached a hand down toward your center and ghosted over your clit. he then brought his middle finger and ring finger to where you both were connected and collected the arousal from you both combined before slathering it on your clit and stimulating you at a rapid pace. your legs started shaking as you immediately felt yourself about to give in.

your eyes clenched as your hands grasped the sheets below you before arching your back — your orgasm hit you like a wave of intense euphoria. you let out a spurt of whimpers and moans. your own orgasm had chris’s following shortly.

“shit! oh my fucking god.” his hips stuttered as he tried to ride out his orgasm as best as he could which was tough because of how tight you were clenching him.

your chest ended up pressed against each other as he was laid on you, breathless and unable to move for a split second. there was only one thought that ran through chris’s mind when he came to his senses and that was ‘i’m in love with y/n.’

he had to find a way to tell you.

© slxtarchive

[greycloudsinwinter]

Hii, could you write a Yandere Jacaerys Velaryon with a Targaryen reader? (the reader is Viserys and Alicent's daughter)

YANDERE JACAERYS VELARYON X TARGERYAN READER

🌊 you were the second daughter to alicent Hightower born after aemond . Alicent often spoiled you since unlike your other siblings you were close to normal. Normal in being that you didn’t cause trouble or rumours.

🌊your half sister rhaenyra had brought up the discussion of your betrothal to the small council. Alicent desperately tried to keep you away from your half sister and her plain featured sons however failed to do so and as a way to repair the family you and your nephew jacaerys would wed on your sixteenth name day.

🌊jacaerys wanted a marriage full of love and trust so he tried to find out everything about you. however he didn’t know was doing this would cause him to fall into a pit of infatuation.

🌊his obsession grew quickly and just as quickly as it came the stronger it grew. He began to become possessive demanding that as his future bride you should only be around him and no others since they could taint you. He even brought it up to the council staring alicent in the eyes as he said “I would not want my future bride to be tainted by I’ll willed men and bastards” leaving alicent in a fit of rage . As she knew and everyone knew who the true bastards where in king’s landing.he was left successful so you are no longer around any others other then him and your mother…

🌊he forces you to wear red all green is burned in your wardrobe.

🌊anyone dares look at you will be fed to vermax under suspicious circumstances that they had somehow made there way to the dragon pit and went to see a dragon.( they didn’t jacaerys forced them to go down there and vermax feeling his riders feelings did as he was told ).

🌊as soon as you are married he takes you to dragon stone there you can only have his company he doesn’t allow you to have maids he says “I can’t trust them with you you far to important to me “.

🌊he wants an heir really bad so he gets to work if you can’t have a child for some reason he blames it on your mother and the greens .

🌊he does spoil you loads by giving you jewels and trin keys that you may not need but looks gorgeous.

🌊if you have a dragon he will not allow you to ride it he will only allow you to ride with him on his dragon.

🌊if for whatever reason you have to go in public he showers you in pda and I mean SHOWERS you.

🌊when the dance of dragons begins he is frustrated and the news of his brothers death just adds to it . He will be furious and throw tantrums and will say things like “your lucky little star I got you out of there when I did !” And “now can you see why I must keep you here in this room those ignorant usurpers are traitors and would’ve tainted you without a single thought… I saved you “

🌊he will guilt trip you and manipulate you with every trick in the book until your truly obedient for him don’t get me wrong though he will 100% be loyal to you and anything you wish is yours there are only two rules :

1. Stay with him

2. Don’t ever try and leave him.

🌊he is 7/10 not the worse yandere to have but definitely not the best . Overall good luck …

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️

[empress-simps]

Line That Leads To You

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.

Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!

You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.

The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.

Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.

“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.

“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.

“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)

“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.

Complete each other, huh?

Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.

Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.

That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.

Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.

He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.

“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”

“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.

Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.

You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.

“Reggie! Reggie!”

You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.

Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?

You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.

You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.

Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?

The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.

It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.

Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.

“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.

“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.

“What, Moons?”

“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?

“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.

“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.

Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”

Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”

Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”

James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”

“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.

The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.

Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.

Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”

“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”

Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.

“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.

You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.

Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”

And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.

Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.