#stop talking about other peoples bodies!!

[finelinevogue]

pretty boy

summary - the team is out for drinks and people can’t stop hitting on your boyfriend

pairing - spencer reid x bau!gf

word count - +1k

“He’s so hot.”

“Ugh that hair!”

“He is so kissable.”

You had only been at the bar for an hour and you’d already hit your limit for the amount of women that have hit on your boyfriend.

The worst thing about it, is that Spencer is so oblivious to it that you feel silly for being even a little bit jealous.

You were currently at the bar ordering some drinks and were listening to a group of girls lust after your boyfriend, who was currently sitting with the rest of the team in a booth.

“I mean seriously… he looks like he’d know how to please a woman.” One of them said.

You gave the girls a brief look to make sure you weren’t making things up in your head and to your dismay they were all looking Spencer’s way. Curse him for sitting at the end of the booth.

You then looked back to Spencer who was listening intensely to something Rossi was saying.

He did look good. Like, really good.

He’d recently had a haircut that made him look that little bit older, whilst also keeping that youth. Hotch had told him he looked like he was part of a boy-band, which in a way he did. The hot one, if he was.

You loved his new hair. It was so fluffy and soft. Perfect to run your hands through.

It just irked you that other people were thinking the same thing. And so openly.

He was even extra handsome tonight with his work clothes on. It was hot so he had taken off his waistcoat, so it was just his shirt - which he had rolled the sleeves up on - his loose tie and his fitted trousers.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” One of them said, making you tense up.

You wished the bartender would hurry up so you could go back and sit next to Spencer already. You trust Spencer more than anything - but it was these girls you didn’t trust.

“Oh my God. Never mind. He’s coming over here. How’s my hair?”

You thanked the bartender as he placed the drinks on a circular tray in front of you.

The girls were all nervously excited next to you.

Until they weren’t.

Because you felt Spencer slide up behind you, resting one of his hands at the bottom of your spine and the other placed on the bar edge.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as you swayed your body into his.

Spencer was standing perpendicular to you so it gave you the opportunity to rest the side of your head on his chest. It allowed you to just breathe him in as if it were just you and him in the room.

You nodded slowly, not really knowing how else to answer.

“Need help with these?” He asked, tapping the tray.

“Please.”

“M’kay. I’ll get these. You grab some straws.”

You were sad when his hand left your back to reach for the tray of drinks. You also really wanted to take Spencer away from these girls though.

Before you could both go back, one of the girls touched Spencer on his forearm and questioned him.

“Excuse me, are you two together?” She asked, only looking at Spencer for the answer. It was almost as if you were invisible.

“Uh, yeah. We are.” Spencer gave a polite smile.

“Oh.” She said, surprised.

Spencer didn’t respond and neither did you. He just smiled before nudging you to keep walking.

Once you were out of their earshot he asked, “That was weird right?”

“Yeah.” It was your turn to give him a small smile this time, keeping your head down as you returned to the booth.

<.><.><.>

The atmosphere had changed.

You had felt good at the start of the night - an hour ago - but now everything felt a little different.

It no doubt had everything to do with the girls that had been surprised that Spencer was dating you. Also it didn’t help that Spencer still looked great and was gaining more and more hungry eyes.

You sipped your drink even though you weren’t interested in having a good time any more. You wanted to be alert in case you needed to be for Spencer’s sake.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Spencer said.

He was still sat on the end of the booth, but he had one arm tucker over the back of the booth and down around your shoulder to keep you pressed close to him. For someone who was okay with not fully understanding social interactions, he had always done a perfect job of being with you.

The rest of the team were talking and laughing over drinks.

“It’s okay.” You shook your head.

“It’s not if it’s bothering you.” Spencer argued.

“It’s silly.”

You looked from the team to the rest of the bar where people were still looking Spencer’s way.

Damn, why did he have to be so attractive?

You weren’t sure how to approach the subject with Spencer though. He was too sweet to take his gaze off you for even a second to notice how many gazes were on him. It wasn’t even a him problem. Good for him for looking so pretty, but it was just difficult trying to be okay with the extra attention that him being pretty came with.

It sounded so stupid and it didn’t even make sense to you, so it was impossible trying to think of how to bring it up to Spencer.

“Is it the case?” Spencer asked.

You sighed, “No.”

“Did I do something? I feel like that’s quite likely.”

You shook your head, feeling yourself getting worked up about this.

Spencer’s arm pulled you further into his body and his other arm detached from his drink so he could rest his palm on your thigh.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“You’re not ruining my night. I just don’t like seeing you upset.”

“I know.”

“Well, you tell me when you want to leave and we’ll go okay?”

“Okay.”

<.><.><.>

Spencer was brushing his teeth when you blurted out those three words.

“Sorry if I was weird tonight.” You apologised, finishing off your nighttime routine in Spencer’s apartment.

He mumbled something along the lines of ‘it doesn’t matter’, but it was hard to tell when he had a mouth full of toothpaste.

Your chest heaved heavy breaths as you watched him with adoration.

He looked so soft and homely standing in his bathroom, brushing his teeth in his pyjamas with you. He was just so damn perfect and it was because of that that you had to tell him.

“It was your hair!” You blurted out before you could control yourself.

“Huh?” He questioned with a mouthful of toothpaste still. He took a brief glance to the mirror to check his hair before turning back to you.

“Your hair! I think it’s made you really hot. N-not that you weren’t hot before Spence but- oh my god, what am I saying?” You let out a shaky breath before continuing, “I was jealous okay? Really jealous because everyone at that bar was staring at you like they wanted you and I-I know you and me are— and you would never— and I — but I just…

Spencer spat out his toothpaste.

“Y/N…”

“I couldn’t stop thinking that like you’re mine and what right did they have to chat you up, let alone look at you that way? I mean—.”

“Babe…”

“I love you, okay?!” You proclaimed. You stood there in shock for a moment, not knowing where to take this now that you’d announced that.

“Y/N…”

“I do.” You nodded rapidly, “I do, I really do love you a-and I think it really hit me tonight when I saw you being loved on by all those other women.”

Spencer dropped his toothbrush and took a step towards you.

“All of that tonight was because you love me?” He questioned, trying to wrap his head around this.

“I think so, yeah.”

You pulled the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands as something to fidget with. You were growing nervous now for Spencer to say something.

“Well that makes sense.” He nodded, “I.. I think that means I love you too.”

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide as you watched him figure things out for himself.

“Yeah. I mean… I was frustrated as you sounded at all those men looking at you all night. It was driving me crazy.”

“People looking at me?” You frowned.

“You were the prettiest person in the room.”

“Spence…” You pouted, feeling your eyes tear with happy emotions.

You can’t believe that he had been feeling the exact same as you all this time. All it would have taken was a conversation earlier to talk things through and you both wouldn’t have been feeling so vulnerable.

“I love you, Y/N, even though I’m telling you in the most un-romantic setting.”

“You’re wrong. This is like the most romantic it could be for me.” You smiled and looped your arms around his neck. You felt his come around your waist.

“This?”

“Yeah. You, me and a little bit of toothpaste. That’s all I need to know that I love you.”

“And my hair.”

“Huh?”

“I distinctly remember you talking about how hot my hair was before…” He chuckled and you thumped your forehead down on his chest to escape the embarrassment.

“Stop.”

“No, never. Just like I’m never getting another haircut.”

You lifted your head at that, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him with heart eyes.

“I could live with that.” You smiled.

Spencer stayed looking at you for a few moments.

You could tell he was taking a minute to process everything as well as continue to study every little feature on your face. You prompted him to say something when he stared a little too long though.

“Just like seeing you smile. That’s all.” He said.

It was as simple as that.

You both loved each other. You both loved seeing each other smile. To keep that a forever kind of thing you would have to promise communication and accept there’ll be moments of jealousy. Those moments will be made better though when you remind each other that it’s each other you’re going home to.

[lowcountrymountaineer]

No, this isn't it. The Nahuatl people don't speak for every indigenous nation that lives along the Gulf. We need to let go of the idea that there needs to be one defining name for bodies of water and landmasses. That is a COLONIAL mentality. There are a multitude of indigenous names for the Gulf. They are ALL valid. There are Mayan words for the Gulf as well, ntm the indigenous peoples along the North "Mexican" coast such as the Huastec OR the indigenous people along the Gulf of so-called "USA". This includes the Tunica-Biloxi, the Houma, the Miccosukee and the Seminole and numerous nations unfortunately no longer with us due to colonization such as the Atakapa, the Karankawa, the Apalachee, the Pensacola, the Timucua, the Chitumacha, the Chatot, the Tocobaga and the Calusa. There are also probably Taíno names for the Gulf and there were probably names from the Guanahatabey who are no longer with us either. All of these names are sacred names for the body of water internationally recognized as the so-called "Gulf of Mexico" some are lost to the terror of colonization while others are used amongst the nations that are still alive. If you're going to talk about the Gulf, interact and learn from the indigenous peoples closest to you. If you live in New Orleans engage with the Tunica-Biloxi and see what their name for the Gulf is and use that. If you live in Tampa or Miami interact with the Seminole or the Miccosukee. If you live in Mérida or San Francisco de Campeche learn the Mayan words for the Gulf and so on and so forth. Don't just stop there either, go further and learn local names for land and other bodies of water.

Note: This isn't to say that the Nahuatl word and people aren't important in this convo or that the word can't or shouldn't be used but rather to dig deeper and don't delve into romanticization or appropriation of a people and their language under the guise of decolonization. Embrace multitudes, embrace diversity and consider the idea that we can't easily define bodies of water or masses of land. That it is okay to not settle on one name.

[acid-ixx]

i feel like reader from again&again would end up being hypersexual, idk if anyone has mentioned it before but they’d up having a lot of trust issues and attachments issues.

— masterlist !

tw: sexual themes and talks of sexual assaults.

i was contemplating whether i should make them hypersexual or not!!! i'm speaking from my own personal experience that it's a very complicated feeling to portray. chasing for that momentary high, doing anything you can just to feel pleasure because you were always stripped from attention that you find it in other ways, the absolute disgust that comes after, the regret, yet the constant cycle of returning to that habit even after you promised to stop from one round, doing it over and over again even if at most times it feels like you're losing your enjoyment and doing it all out of the need for fulfilment; i can do that, but that will be bordering on dub-con and darker themes if i were to write it, which i'm not sure if some readers of mine will like, especially since conner is the love interest—

but truthfully, i think it would do well for a hurt/comfort prompt after they get together. you know, trying to push yourself too hard by trying to pleasure kon despite your inexperience, fearing that he'll leave if you don't do what he wants. the panic, the hesitance on even feeling his body because, truly, you've never held someone with different intentions, never been touched so intimately by others before yourself. and that kind of turns into an addiction, a need to do whatever it takes to keep his eyes on you even if it destroys you inside out.

yet your boyfriend is receptive, he notices how your lingering touches can sometimes feel cold yet done so through necessity, how you chase after your peak even if it brings more pained tears than pleasurable moans. how you beg for more yet shamefully hide yourself from a mirror right after. his confrontation after just a week, his soft voice promising that there's no need to rush it all out, how he doesn't see you as an object but his equal, his power, his everything. how there's no price to pay to obtain his love, your body an altar than an offering, how his was always yours to begin with.

and with how the family will react to this? honestly, the first person who would break at the moment he hears this information is dick grayson.

most portray him as a playboy, a puppet for most to sexualize. he takes advantage of that, turns it into his weapon, but deep within, he has his fair share of trauma being assaulted by not just one, but two (or more, depending on the comics) women. and with just how silenced and invalidated men are too when it comes to their trauma, it wouldn't be a surprise that, well, dick would be incredibly heartbroken realizing how his baby bird, the very same child he swore to protect, trudges the same path as him, carries the same burden on their back while pretending like everything's okay.

it destroys him, inside-out, how he's the oldest, the one supposed to guide the people around him, the one who buries all the pent-up anger, the turmoil at carrying the burden of all the terrible things that happened to him, turning it into motivation— yet ultimately failing to guide his very own sibling.

the one he introduced to the manor, the one he came to call his baby bird on the very same day.

i think about that a lot, a moment where he'll suddenly barge into your room, whether it would be before you'd be before you'd be kidnapped or not, and just... hugging you, burying his head on your shoulders while his hands just encapsulate your entire body. you don't know how or why he found you, don't know why he's shivering, why he's muttering sorry's and unbidden promises, desperate callings to your name like he just can't believe you're still alive, your shoulders damp with tears and dick just refusing to let go of you. i think about it a lot, how in the case of sexual trauma, you'd be dick's ultimate failure, a person he failed to protect from the very same thing that destroyed him. and yet he couldn't even bond it over with you, because you're so... so guarded and so broken that even if you and dick now share just one similarity, you still refuse his comfort, his promises that never again will you handle it alone.

it's not impossible that the reader would be hypersexual whilst still sporting insecurities. i have my own bodily issues too that i'm coping with; i typically emulate that onto the reader. so if anything from above fascinates my readers, i'm willing to write it out for future chapters because i love tackling complex topics, it helps me make my brain bigger teehee.

[littlelamy]

Rafe x Girl next door type/Sweet!Pouge Reader: He sees her at a party and he sets his eyes on her, wanting to hook up with her for the night and ditch her the next day. He gets surprised thought when he actually talks to her, how kind, sweet and genuine she is # and to also find out that she is the relationship girlfriend type that would never have sex with someone random # but does not end it right there with him then trying to find someone else for the night but actually find himself drawn to her and wanting to take care of her/protect her and offers to drive her home (and whatever else you can think of, just a suggestion)

lamy's notes: i hope you like it, angel!

the party is in full swing, neon lights flickering against the walls, bodies packed tight with the heady scent of sweat and liquor thick in the air. rafe cameron leans against the kitchen counter, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, half-full of something he’d stopped tasting an hour ago. his sharp blue eyes scan the crowd, predatory, practiced, already picking out his next conquest.

then he sees you.

it isn’t like the other girls he usually finds himself entangled with. no plunging neckline, no practiced sultry gaze or desperate attempt to get his attention. you’re different—sweet-looking, soft around the edges, the kind of girl who smiles at people like she means it. the kind of girl who doesn’t belong here.

and fuck, does that make him want you more.

you’re laughing, head tilted back just slightly, talking to a couple of your friends who don’t seem nearly as enthralled by you as they should be. you aren’t drinking, he notices. just standing there with some soda in your hand, cheeks flushed but not from alcohol. from joy. genuine, untainted joy.

rafe smirks. this will be easy. the sweet ones always melt in his hands, naive enough to believe whatever story he spins, desperate for that kind of attention from someone like him. he pushes off the counter and makes his way toward you, predatory confidence in every step.

“didn’t peg you as the party type,” he murmurs, sliding in beside you. your head turns, and when those warm, wide eyes meet his, something in his stomach twists.

you smile. actually smile at him. no coyness, no pretense. just a simple, friendly, fucking devastating smile. “yeah, i guess i’m not,” you admit, a little sheepish. “but my friends wanted to come, so here i am.”

rafe arches a brow. “and you’re not drinking?”

you shake your head. “not really my thing.”

his usual lines, the easy teases and flirtations, catch in his throat. there’s nothing to latch onto here, no feigned innocence waiting to be shattered. just…you. real. unaffected. completely unlike anyone else in this house.

“not your thing, huh?” he echoes, tilting his head. “so what is?”

you give a small shrug, your fingers curling around your soda cup, you begin to ramble about random things. “i don’t know. movie nights, bonfires on the beach, making pancakes at midnight just because. you know, wholesome stuff.”

wholesome.

jesus christ.

rafe hasn’t felt this off-kilter in years. he came here tonight looking for a quick fuck, someone to drag upstairs and forget about the next morning. and yet, here he is, utterly hooked on you talking about making pancakes at midnight.

“you’re not from around here, are you?”

you laugh, light and warm. “born and raised.”

“huh.” he studies you, trying to pinpoint exactly what makes you so different. maybe it’s the way you look at him, not like he’s some trophy to be won or some cautionary tale to be avoided, but just…like a person.

he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“so,” he tries again, leaning in slightly. “if you’re not into parties, what’s keeping you here?”

you tilt your head, studying him right back. “good company, i guess.”

rafe isn’t used to being caught off guard. isn’t used to having the script flipped on him like this. but instead of pissing him off, it just makes him more intrigued.

for a split second, he thinks about cutting his losses, about finding someone else who’d be easier, who wouldn’t make his chest feel tight in a way that has nothing to do with lust. but the thought of walking away from you right now?

doesn’t sit right.

“let me drive you home,” the words are out before he even realizes he’s said them.

your brows lift slightly, surprised but not suspicious. “you sure? i wouldn’t want to take you away from the party.”

he smirks. “believe me, sweetheart, nothing here’s worth sticking around for.”

you hesitate for a moment, then nod. “alright. that’d be nice.”

rafe has never been interested in nice before. nice doesn’t get you anywhere. nice is weak. but as you walk beside him out of the house, trusting him in a way he knows he hasn’t earned, he thinks—

maybe nice isn’t so bad.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[fancyfeathers]

If you don’t mind me asking what does Serial Killer/Ringmaster! Dick Grayson do with reader after kidnapping them in a romantic and platonic ways? Like does he just keep them to himself or does he show them off?

Have a nice day!!!!

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

When Dick kidnaps his darling he needs to get the hell out of Gotham before a very angry Batman shows up to rescue her, even then he has a month tops before gets caught and sent off to Arkham Asylum.

But in that month he does do… quite a few things with her.

Majority of the time she is gagged and bound, he can’t have her running away or calling for help, well both are kinda pointless anyway since the performers at the circus are loyal to him.

Dick is normally helping take care for rehearsals during a good chunk of the day so during that time she is stuffed into one of those traveling trunks. Normally he wraps her up in a blanket like a baby and puts a pillow in there for her, but sometimes it gets really hot in there so that when Dick comes back she is an overheated mess. He’ll coo at her and pick her up before running her a cold bath which is such whiplash between the temperatures and afterwards Dick will carry her to bed and hold her while he talks about his day to her. He’ll ask her about her day, but her answer will never change because her days are almost always the same and also she can’t talk because she is gagged.

Then at night she shares a bed with Dick, still all tied up. He clings to her like a stuffed animal and he thinks it is romantic to see her waking up in the morning, he wonders if this is what it felt like for his parents.

Sometimes the things he talks about scares her, well everything he tells her is scary. Like he started rambling about how they were meant to be together because she understands the pain of seeing her parents get murdered in front her and how the world has been far too cruel to both of them. He looks manic when talking, wide eyed and that unsettling laughter.

Or there are the times he starts talking about people’s body parts and disturbing ways to kill someone, like it only takes a few pounds of force to push someone’s nose into their skull or how the heart can continue to beat a few minutes after a head is severed from the body and therefore the body is still living. Even though his darling was Robin, she looks terrified when he starts talking like that…

“Oh baby, hey, hey, hey, don’t give me that face, I’ll never do that to you, I’ll only hurt you if you try to run, you know that right?”

He says that sort of thing but then he’ll come back to her and it is terrifying to look up and see him, absolutely trenched in blood, opening the truck she is hidden in, smiling down at her, telling her how pretty she is.

But then there are other disturbing times after certain activities that he will be laying down next to her and he’ll just say something like…

“You taste so good down there… I wonder what the rest of you taste like.”

But he immediately stops talking like that when she tells him that scares her, the last thing her wants is her being scared of him.

Then when she is finally rescued, either by the police or by Batman, she immediately runs up the the first person she recognizes which is most likely Commissioner Gordon and he just holds her as she cries and watches as the members of the circus being arrested for compliance in her kidnapping and the murders of over a hundred people. The only reason she can’t run to Bruce is because he is personally taking Dick to Arkham Asylum, especially after what he did to his eldest daughter. Commissioner Gordon drives her back to Wayne Manor where Alfred will be waiting at the door and has a warm meal waiting for her and she can eat while Alfred and Gordon talk about what exactly happened and then she heads up to bed once Bruce gets home just so her can make sure she is okay before taking to Gordon.

Life goes back to normal for her… well that is until there was a break out at Arkham Asylum…

[beautifullilacsky]

Do you remember that night? You were in your bed, and I was in mine. Yet, we noticed together how the colors of the sky went from darkblue, filled with hidden stars, to the soft morning yellow and pink shades. We had talked all night, eager to learn about all of the details we could gather about the other person.

I know it is not a realistic idea, especially with jobs and the deep level we know eachother at right now. I know it isn't fair to wish for that back; that's just not where we are anymore right now. That doesn't stop me from mourning it.

I remember this one post about someone s biggest fear. Which isn't the usual; spiders, heights, whatever... no. It is becoming ugly to the one that once saw the stars dance into your eyes. I get that the amount of time we spend on texting and calling isn't a realistic bar. It was never meant to go on like that. Yet, a part in me is scared. Scared that this is only the beginning. The way we used to talk for hours and hours on end? We know eachother so well now, we don't even have so much to talk about anymore. Do we really not, though? I believe there are still uncountable amount of deep corners we haven't shared with one another. I am looking forward to all of the things I'll continue to learn about you.

What if.. the way we appreciate eachother dissappear? We get so used to one another, we forget to count our blessings. What if one day, you won't appreciate me wanting to hug you for a long time, or something like that? What if it'll start feeling like a waste of time to you? What if one day, our bodies are so familiar with one another, it doesn't excite us anymore? What if you get tired of me? What if the feelings you have for me die down overtime?

I am afraid that maybe one day, you won't love or appreciate me anymore. What if we changes we go through now are only the beginning of it? I don't want to get tired of you. I don't want you to get tired of me. Are those just inevitable facts over time? What if we don't actually lose eachother in the sense of being out of eachother lives, but we lose eachother on a bonding level? The uncertainty scares me.

I know; nothing is forever. And even if it scares me, I believe that is inevitably the things that will keep love alive. The realization that we need to treasure what we have right now. The fear is what will save us. Right? Or do you not fear it? Will we fight the fear? Look it in the eyes, listen to it, and act accordingly? Meaning, will we keep on remembering to cherish one another? Or will it slowly wither?

This goes for everything in life. The shadow side of having people you love, and that love you, is that you can be sure that it'll one day cause hurt. Everything ends. Everyone leaves your life one way or another. To witness and feel love and happiness, is to sign up for heartbreak and sadness. The dark side scares me and makes me wonder at times, should I just protect myself from the future hurt? But no. I believe the hurt will be worth the love. I'd prefer a life fully lived and loved, filled with tears of happiness and heartbreak. I don't want to settle for a life fueled by fear. So, even if I am scared, I wouldn't want to change anything. The fear keeps us on our toes, it keeps us appreciative. If only I could be in your arms right now..

Aaron Westerberg, “Black Fur”, oil on linen. American artist.

[movingmusically]

Hi can you do a fluffy where austin and reader fell in love while shooting caught stealing and they are on their press tour together and the people are starting to speculate about their relationship through their chemistry and when austin is in a talk show to promote he gets emotional while talking about her which basically confirms their relationship and please make it in an austin pov

Word Count: 5,893

Masterlist

Rumour Has It

Press tours are a machine. Same schedule, different city. Hotels that all look the same, blacked-out car windows, cameras waiting at every stop. I know the rhythm. I know when to turn it on, when to let the words fall out in a way that sounds effortless.

It’s a strange thing, sitting in the same chair all day while a rotation of journalists shuffle in and out, asking variations of the same ten questions. Most of the time, I can answer on autopilot, let the words settle into well-worn grooves.

But this time, it’s different.

Because Y/N is here.

And suddenly, the hours don’t drag the way they usually do.

Maybe it’s the way she nudges my knee under the table when she senses I’m zoning out, like she knows exactly when I need to be pulled back. Maybe it’s the way she always seems to have a second coffee waiting for me, despite insisting she doesn’t enable my caffeine addiction. Maybe it’s the way she laughs—really laughs—not just when the cameras are rolling, but when I catch her off guard, something quiet and unrestrained that makes my chest feel too full.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I spent the night with her.

I’m careful—don’t look at her too much, don’t lean in too close—but still, it’s there. The weight of it. The way my body feels aware of hers, even when I’m not touching her.

She nudges my knee with hers, just a small tap. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

I huff a quiet laugh, tilting my head toward her. “And you look suspiciously awake for someone who barely slept.”

There’s a beat where her lips press together like she’s trying not to smile. Then, smoothly, she lifts the coffee cup to her lips. “Sheer willpower.”

The next journalist is already settling into their chair, a producer giving them the go-ahead to start.

“Alright,” the interviewer says, beaming. “So, Caught Stealing is such a unique, character-driven story. It’s dark, but not in a flashy way—it’s lived-in, messy, raw. What was it about this film that drew you both in?”

A safe, easy question.

Y/N takes it first, shifting slightly in her seat. “The characters, honestly. The way their relationships are constantly shifting, how nothing is simple. There’s no easy hero, no clean resolution. It felt real.”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s not just about a guy who gets in over his head—it’s about what that does to the people around him. How every choice he makes has a ripple effect. Nothing exists in isolation.”

The journalist nods, jotting something down, but their gaze lingers on us a beat too long. I recognise that look.

The I’m not here to ask about your chemistry, but I see it anyway look.

Because it keeps happening. Every time Y/N glances at me mid-answer, like she’s checking if I agree. Every time I catch myself mirroring the way she shifts in her chair. Every time we break at the same time over something small—a joke that wasn’t really a joke, a word that came out weird, a memory that doesn’t need explaining.

“So, I’ve seen an early cut of the film,” the journalist continues, flipping through their notes, “and I think what really makes it so compelling is how lived-in these performances feel. Nothing feels rehearsed, everything just... moves naturally. Did you two spend a lot of time together before filming?”

Y/N and I glance at each other at the same time.

And then—it happens.

That thing where we have a conversation without having a conversation. A flicker of amusement in her eyes, a twitch of my lips in response. A silent should we mess with them?

She bites back a smile. “Well, we met before filming,” she says lightly.

I hum, pretending to think. “Yeah. Darren got us together for dinner so we could talk about the script.”

Y/N groans, leaning forward. “Oh my God, I forgot about that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Forgot?”

She places a hand on her chest, feigning sincerity. “I blocked it out.”

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You’re so full of it.”

The journalist chuckles, glancing between us. Their posture shifts—more relaxed now, like they’ve stopped trying to decipher something and have simply settled into the reality of it.

It happens in almost every interview.

No one asks about chemistry, but they see it. It’s in the way our movements fall into sync without trying. It’s in the way Y/N mutters something under her breath when the next question is a little too serious, and the way I exhale a laugh before I can stop myself. It’s in the way we don’t overthink it, even when everyone else does.

The next question comes, but I only half-hear it, because suddenly, I'm remembering.

That first dinner.

The first time I saw her.

Darren had chosen some quiet little restaurant in the West Village, the kind of place with handwritten menus and candle wax pooling in the centre of the tables.

I got there first, early enough to check my phone three times, drink half a glass of water, and wonder if showing up early made me look too eager.

Then the door opened.

And Y/N had walked in.

She was slightly breathless from the cold, scarf slipping from her shoulders as she unwrapped it, tucking her gloves into her bag.

“Hey,” she’d said, flashing a quick smile.

I stood up automatically—I don’t know why, it just felt right—offering my hand.

She took it, fingers warm. “Y/N.”

“Austin.”

Her lips twitched. “Yeah, I figured.”

Darren arrived moments later, launching straight into the script—breaking down the themes, the character dynamics, what made this different from other films in the same space.

But I wasn’t fully listening.

Because Y/N had pulled out a notebook, flipping past scribbled-out words and margin notes, and suddenly, I was captivated.

“What’s that?” I asked.

She’d glanced up. “Just—thoughts on Yvonne. Stuff I don’t wanna forget.”

I leaned forward slightly. “Like what?”

She hesitated, then turned the notebook toward me. A half-filled page, little arrows linking thoughts together.

Wants to leave, but stays. Doesn’t trust him, but can’t let go. Is it love, or just familiar?

She spoke, voice softer now. “You don’t think she’s stupid for going back, do you?”

I looked at her then, really looked at her.

“No,” I said. “I think she’s just human.”

And that was it.

That was the moment it clicked.

“—Austin?”

I blink, snapping back to the present. The journalist is looking at me expectantly. Y/N is hiding a knowing smile behind her coffee cup.

“Sorry,” I say, clearing my throat. “What was the question?”

And just like that, I’m here.

With her.

And suddenly, press tours don’t feel so exhausting after all.

Another city, another wave of interviews.

I barely register which one anymore. The cycle repeats itself—airport, hotel, press junket, premiere. Somewhere in between, I sleep just enough to keep functioning, drink enough coffee to keep from crashing. It should feel exhausting. Maybe it is. But this time, there’s Y/N. She makes it easier.

It’s in the way she always has some inside joke ready to throw at me when the energy in the room starts to dip, the way she leans in a little too close when she laughs, eyes bright with something mischievous, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. And maybe she does.

We’ve slipped into a rhythm now, something easy and unspoken, something that doesn’t need rehearsing. The interviews blur together, but I can still pinpoint the exact moment in each one when she catches my eye, when my response shifts just slightly because I’m talking to her now instead of the room.

And people are noticing.

I can feel it—not just in the way interviewers hesitate a second too long before moving on, but in the way the internet is running wild with it.

I don’t look at the posts. Not directly, anyway.

But Callum does.

My phone buzzes during a break between interviews, and when I check it, there’s a message waiting for me.

You guys are the internet’s new favourite obsession.

I frown, scrolling up. He’s sent a link.

I shouldn’t click it.

I click it.

It’s a tweet. One of those slowed-down edits, the kind people put together when they’ve decided to make something out of nothing. Except—it’s not nothing.

Clips from the press tour, spliced together like evidence in some case file. Y/N laughing at something I said. Me turning toward her at the same time she turns toward me. The way my hand lingers a second too long on her back before we pose for pictures. A moment where we both start speaking at the same time, cut together with a voiceover about “soulmates always mirroring each other.”

The caption reads:

They think they’re being subtle. They are not.

I lock my phone and shove it into my pocket before I can spiral.

It’s not that deep.

Except—it kind of is.

Because it looks exactly how it feels.

It’s always felt like this, hasn’t it?

The thought sticks, lingers like something just out of reach, and suddenly, I’m not here anymore.

I’m back in New York.

Back in a darkened theatre.

Darren had suggested it. Said we should see Y/N’s play before filming started.

“She’s good,” he’d said. “Better than good. You’ll see.”

I’d nodded, agreed, gone in expecting to be impressed.

I hadn’t expected to be ruined.

She stepped onto the stage like she belonged there, and for the next two hours, I forgot about everything else. Forgot why I was there, forgot who I was supposed to be.

There was a moment—halfway through the second act—where her character stood in the centre of the stage, framed by dim, moody lighting, and she wasn’t even speaking. She was just there.

And somehow, that was enough.

The audience was silent, caught in the gravity of it, but I could feel my own breath sticking in my throat, my hands tightening around the armrests.

Because I wasn’t watching her as a director would. Or a co-star. Or even as an actor admiring another actor’s performance.

I was watching her as something else.

And that scared the hell out of me.

Then the moment broke. The scene shifted, the lights changed, the spell lifted.

But something stayed.

Something stuck.

After the final bow, Darren and I waited backstage. When she walked out, eyes still bright with adrenaline, she spotted us instantly.

“Austin?”

I grinned. “Hey, superstar.”

Her smile widened. “You came.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it.”

Something shifted then.

Something that’s only gotten stronger since.

I blink, the theatre fading, the present snapping back into focus. Y/N, sitting across from me, scrolling through her phone like she doesn’t know I was just somewhere else entirely. Like she has no idea I was just remembering the first time she wrecked me without even trying. I run a hand over my jaw, exhale slowly. Maybe I should let this go. Maybe I should stop overthinking it.

Or maybe—maybe it’s too late for that.

We’re in a different city now, a different room, but everything blends together—same setup, same questions. Except this time, we’re sitting on the floor. And this time, there are puppies.

A producer counts down, “We’re rolling in three, two—”

Before they even hit one, there’s barking, followed by the unmistakable sound of tiny paws skidding across the floor. A handful of golden retriever puppies burst into the room, tails wagging, tripping over each other in their rush toward us.

Y/N lets out a dramatic gasp, eyes going wide as one immediately scrambles into her lap, burying its face against her sweater. “This is the best day of my life!”

I laugh, already struggling to keep hold of one that’s climbing up my chest like it has somewhere important to be. “I don’t think we’re getting through a single question.”

The interviewer chuckles. “We’ll do our best. First one—what’s something you learned about each other while filming?”

Y/N hums, absentmindedly scratching behind the puppy’s ear. “Austin has an insane memory. Like, borderline freaky. He’d hear a line once and know it perfectly. And all of my lines, too.”

I shrug. “Or maybe you just forgot yours a lot.”

She gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “The slander.”

I smirk, nudging her shoulder with mine.

The interviewer shakes his head, amused. “I feel like you two just communicate in banter at this point.”

Y/N sighs dramatically, cradling the puppy against her. “It’s our love language.”

It happens before I can stop it—a flicker of something in my chest, a second where my breath catches before I smooth it over.

I don’t react.

I definitely don’t react.

But later, the internet catches it—the way my fingers freeze for just a second before I move again.

By the time we get to London, the speculation is already spiralling.

At Radio 1, Greg James grins as he leans into the mic. “Alright, we’re gonna play Unpopular Opinion. You two ready?”

Y/N adjusts her mic. “Born ready.”

A listener’s voice crackles through the speakers.

“I think tea is overrated.”

Y/N’s reaction is instant. She sits up so fast she nearly knocks over her drink, outrage etched across her face. “Get. Out.”

Greg bursts into laughter. “This might be the most visceral reaction we’ve ever had.”

I shake my head, grinning. “I knew that was gonna set you off.”

“I’m actually upset,” Y/N says, turning to me. “Tea is a lifestyle.”

I shrug, smirking. “I mean, I’m a coffee guy, so…”

Her head whips toward me, genuine betrayal in her eyes. “And I thought I knew you.”

Greg loses it.

The internet follows.

- I THOUGHT I KNEW YOU?? THEY’RE MARRIED. - She reacts like he personally betrayed her, and he just smirks through it. - Austin being a little shit and Y/N getting dramatic about tea… classic.

Snack Wars is worse.

It starts harmlessly enough. A debate over crisps versus chips, a minor disagreement about the correct way to eat a scone. But then—

Then it happens.

I bite into a Jaffa Cake and immediately make a face.

“What is this texture?”

Y/N gasps, horrified. “How dare you?”

“It’s like it can’t decide if it wants to be a cookie or a cake,” I insist, chewing slowly.

She shakes her head like I’ve personally offended her. “You don’t deserve British snacks.”

I smirk. “Say that again after you try this peanut butter cup.”

She takes a bite.

And then—she moans.

The room freezes.

I stare. My brain completely short-circuits. It’s one second, maybe two, but it’s enough. Enough for heat to prickle at the back of my neck, for my thoughts to spin somewhere I really, really shouldn’t be going right now. I force myself to blink. To swallow. To not react.

The crew laughs.

Y/N turns red. “Oh my God.”

I recover before she does, settling back in my chair with a smug grin. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

The TikTok edits hit the internet before we even leave the studio.

- The way Austin looked at her when she moaned over a peanut butter cup?? Sir. - Y/N making an accidental NSFW noise and Austin malfunctioning? Top-tier content.

I don’t check the posts.

Not really.

But later that night, as I scroll through my phone in my hotel room, I can feel it sinking in.

This is getting harder to hide.

And maybe… maybe I don’t want to anymore.

The London premiere is tomorrow. We should be getting some sleep. Instead, I’m lying on my hotel bed, staring at my phone, watching the internet completely lose its mind.

I knew the speculation was getting out of hand, but now it’s everywhere. The TikTok edits, the slowed-down clips, the tweet threads analysing our every move.

- They literally breathe in sync. This is not normal co-star behaviour. - Austin leans into her every time she speaks and it’s driving me insane. - The way he LOOKED at her after the peanut butter cup?? Sir, do you have something you’d like to tell the class?

I sigh, running a hand down my face.

Callum’s latest text sits at the top of my notifications.

Not to alarm you, mate, but the internet is in full FBI mode.

I shouldn’t click the link.

I do anyway.

It’s another edit—this time, someone’s taken clips from the press tour and layered them with a soft, romantic score.

Me laughing at something Y/N said. Her looking at me before finishing a sentence, like she’s checking my reaction. The way my hand lingers too long on her back before we pose for pictures. The moment in the Buzzfeed interview, when I freeze for just a second after she says love language.

It looks…

It looks exactly how it feels.

I lock my phone and toss it onto the nightstand like it’s burning a hole in my palm. I know what’s happening. I’ve spent enough time in this industry to recognise when something is slipping out of my hands. It’s not just edits and slowed-down clips anymore.

People know.

And maybe it wouldn’t bother me if it wasn’t true.

Maybe it wouldn’t make my chest feel tight if every single clip didn’t look like a confession.

There’s a soft knock on my hotel room door. I don’t even have to ask who it is. I open it, and Y/N is standing there, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower. She’s wearing a hoodie that isn’t hers. It’s mine.

She exhales a small laugh when she sees my expression. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

I shake my head, stepping aside to let her in. “The internet’s insane.”

She moves past me, curling up on the couch without waiting for an invitation. Her legs tuck beneath her, and she reaches for the TV remote like she belongs here. Like this is normal. And maybe that’s the problem.

It is.

It’s the easiest thing in the world to let her stay, to sit beside her, to lose a few more hours in this quiet, private version of us that no one else gets to see. But how much longer can we pretend it’s still a secret?

I lean against the back of the couch, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “You seen the posts?”

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Which ones? The ones calling me the girl who made a peanut butter cup sound R-rated, or the ones diagnosing you with unhinged heart-eyes syndrome?”

I huff out a quiet laugh, tipping my head back. “Both, apparently.”

She grins, but it softens at the edges. Like she knows what I’m actually asking. Like she knows this is getting harder.

There’s a long silence before she shifts slightly, one foot nudging against my knee. “Does it bother you?”

I don’t answer right away.

Because the truth is—I don’t know.

I should say yes. I should say we should be more careful.

But sitting here, watching her pull my hoodie over her hands, watching the way she fits so easily into my space—

I think I stopped caring the second she walked through that door.

I glance at her, my voice quieter now. “Does it bother you?”

She watches me for a beat. Then she just shakes her head.

“No,” she says simply.

And that’s the end of it.

The next night, the speculation is at a breaking point. I feel it the second we step onto the red carpet. The questions aren’t direct, but the way the reporters phrase them—it’s careful, curious.

"How was it working together?"

"Did you two always have that natural chemistry?"

Y/N laughs at something a reporter says, tilting her head up to look at me.

I smile back at her without thinking, and the camera flashes go off like fireworks.

I don’t have to check Twitter to know what’s being said.

At this point, they should just hold hands and put us out of our misery.

And the thing is—I want to.

Not yet. But soon. I can feel it creeping up on me, the inevitability of it.

Just like I felt it that day on set.

It was one of the final days of filming.

We were outside, crammed into the narrow space between two graffiti-covered buildings. The scene was a turning point—our characters finally giving in to everything they’d been denying.

The kiss was scripted.

We’d rehearsed it, blocked every movement. I knew where to put my hands, how to tilt my head to stay in frame, how to match her rhythm without stepping on it.

But when the cameras rolled, it felt like none of that mattered.

She stepped closer, her breath just brushing my neck, and suddenly the world shrank. It wasn’t the set anymore. It wasn’t the crew, or the lights, or the dozen people standing just out of frame.

It was just her.

When her lips met mine, it was deliberate but soft, the kind of kiss that says everything without words. My hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer without even thinking.

And then—just for a second—she used her tongue.

It wasn’t in the script.

I don’t think she even meant to do it—just a fleeting touch, tentative, like she’d caught herself halfway through. But it was enough.

It was enough to make my grip tighten on her waist, enough for me to tilt my head deeper into the kiss, lifting her slightly onto her toes without realising I’d done it.

Her fingers curled into the front of my jacket, her breath hitching against my mouth before she eased back, just barely breaking the kiss.

The director didn’t call cut right away. We stayed in it longer than we were supposed to, neither of us pulling back until the moment dissolved around us.

When it was over, Y/N stepped back, her breathing a little uneven, her eyes just barely meeting mine before she turned away.

I stayed where I was, frozen, trying to pull myself out of it.

I didn’t know what to do with what I was feeling.

Later, I was sitting in the corner of my trailer, still trying to piece myself back together, when she knocked.

She didn’t wait for me to answer.

The door creaked open, and there she was, still in costume, her hair loose around her face.

“You okay?”

Her voice was soft—quieter than usual, like she didn’t want to spook me.

I nodded, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust myself to.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “You sure? Because you’ve been in here for, like, an hour.”

I looked at her then, and the words just spilled out. “That scene…”

She leaned against the edge of the couch, her arms crossed. “What about it?”

“It felt…” I trailed off, trying to find the right word.

Her gaze softened, her lips curving just slightly. “Yeah. It did.”

She didn’t have to explain.

I didn’t have to ask.

In that moment, we both knew.

And when she crossed the room and sat beside me, her shoulder brushing mine, I didn’t stop her.

I just let her stay.

Now, standing on the red carpet, cameras flashing, her voice somewhere behind me, laughing at something a reporter said—I realise it’s been inevitable for a while.

She steps closer, our arms brushing, and lowers her voice just for me.

“You okay?”

Her voice is light, teasing, but her eyes are warm.

And I know, right then, that I don’t care who sees it.

Not anymore.

The energy in the studio is infectious.

The stage lights are bright, the applause thunderous as Jimmy Fallon greets me with his signature enthusiasm. I settle into the chair, offering the audience a grin as I adjust my jacket. I’ve done this before.

I know how to play along, how to keep things light, how to sidestep the questions that toe the line between work and personal life.

But tonight feels different.

Maybe it’s the fact that Y/N isn’t here. She’s back at the hotel, catching up on some sleep after a whirlwind day of press. Or maybe it’s the knowledge that her absence doesn’t mean people aren’t still talking about her.

About us.

Jimmy starts with the usual—talking about the film, throwing in a few jokes about the intensity of the role, teasing me about the internet’s obsession with my hair.

It’s easy. Familiar.

But then he leans forward, his grin widening in that way that lets me know what’s coming.

“So,” he says, dragging the word out for effect, “we have to talk about the internet’s other obsession—your chemistry with Y/N.”

The audience reacts immediately—applause, laughter, a few cheers from the back.

I laugh, shaking my head as I rub the back of my neck. “I knew this was coming.”

Jimmy laughs too, holding up his hands like he’s innocent. “Hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking! You guys are electric on-screen. And off-screen, it’s like… I don’t know, there’s just something there.”

I open my mouth to respond, but he keeps going, gesturing dramatically.

“I mean, have you seen the edits people are making? It’s like a rom-com trailer, but better. They’re calling you guys ‘the internet’s favourite couple who won’t admit they’re a couple.’”

The audience erupts again, and I can feel the tips of my ears burning.

I shake my head, trying to laugh it off. “That’s—yeah, that’s the internet for you.”

Jimmy leans back, his grin turning sly. “So… what’s it like working with her?”

It’s a harmless question.

I’ve answered it a hundred times.

But tonight, for some reason, the words don’t come as easily.

I glance down for a second, my hand instinctively moving to rub the crease of my pants at my thigh. “She’s… amazing.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Just amazing?”

The audience laughs, and I can feel their anticipation like a weight in the room.

I clear my throat, my fingers brushing along my jawline before I let them drop to the armrest. “No, seriously. She’s one of the most talented people I’ve ever worked with. She’s so committed, so intuitive—she just gets it, you know? And she makes everyone around her better.”

I should stop there.

I know I should.

But the words keep coming.

“She has this way of… I don’t know, making everything feel real. Like, you forget there are cameras and crew and a million distractions. It’s just her. And it’s…”

I trail off, my thumb grazing my bottom lip like it might steady me.

Jimmy tilts his head, his expression softening. “You okay, man?”

I nod quickly, forcing a laugh. “Yeah. Sorry. I just… I guess I didn’t realise how much I appreciate her until I started talking about it.”

The audience lets out a collective “aww,” and I feel a pang in my chest—not embarrassment, but something softer.

Jimmy gives me a knowing smile, his tone gentler now. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of respect for her.”

I nod again, my voice quieter this time. “I do. A lot.”

It’s not a confirmation. Not really.

But as I glance out at the audience, I catch a few people exchanging smiles, whispering. The energy in the room has shifted—warmer, quieter, like everyone is in on something now.

And I know that whatever they’re thinking, whatever they’ve decided to believe…

They’re not wrong.

The studio is buzzing when the cameras stop rolling. Crew members scatter to reset the stage for the next segment, and I make my way backstage, still trying to shake off the weight of what just happened.

Jimmy claps me on the shoulder as I pass him. “You killed it, man.”

I nod, offering him a quick smile, but my head’s somewhere else entirely.

The moment keeps replaying in my mind—the way my voice caught when I talked about her, the look on Jimmy’s face when he realised I wasn’t just talking about a co-star.

The audience’s reaction.

I can still hear their collective aww, feel the way the room shifted.

I shouldn’t check my phone, but I do anyway.

The notifications are already piling up. Mentions, tags, texts. My fingers hover over Callum’s name when a text from him flashes on the screen.

Mate… you’re trending.

I exhale, running a hand down my face. Of course I am.

But trending or not, it doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, she’s the one waiting for me. She’s the constant—the one thing in all of this noise that makes sense. And that’s what I’ll always come back to. Always.

By the time I get back to the hotel, it’s late. The lights in the hallway are dim, the soft hum of the elevator the only sound as I make my way to my room.

I unlock the door, step inside, and freeze.

Y/N is curled up on the couch, one of the hotel’s oversized robes wrapped around her, hair messy from sleep. She stirs at the sound of the door, her eyes blinking open slowly.

“You’re back,” she murmurs, her voice soft and a little raspy.

I nod, setting my bag down by the door. “Yeah. Thought you’d be asleep.”

She stretches, the robe slipping slightly off her shoulder. “I tried. Didn’t stick.”

I cross the room, sitting on the edge of the armchair across from her. For a moment, we just look at each other, the silence between us stretching but never uncomfortable.

Then she tilts her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “So, how’d it go?”

I let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was fine. The usual… until it wasn’t.”

Her smile falters, her brows pulling together. “What do you mean?”

I hesitate, my fingers tapping against the armrest. “Jimmy brought you up.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her expression shifts—something soft, something careful. She straightens a little, pulling her legs underneath her as she waits for me to go on.

I lean back in the chair, exhaling. “He asked about working together. About the internet stuff, the edits, the… chemistry.” The word feels heavier than it should.

Her lips part slightly, her brows lifting just enough to show surprise. “What did you say?”

I glance at her, then down at my hands, which are resting against my thighs, fingers fidgeting. “I said you’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever worked with.”

She doesn’t say anything, just watching me, waiting for the rest.

“And…” My voice drops, my thumb brushing over the seam of my pants. “I said you make everything feel real. That you make everyone around you better. That…” I trail off, my throat tightening like it did back on the show.

“That what?” she asks softly.

I rub the back of my neck, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “That I didn’t realise how much I appreciate you until I started talking about it.”

Her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting, but she doesn’t say anything.

“And the thing is…” I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, my hands clasped together as I let out a breath. “I meant every word. But now—now everyone’s talking about it. They’ll read into it, twist it, turn it into something bigger. And I don’t—I don’t know how to feel about that.”

She shifts on the couch, the robe slipping again, revealing her bare collarbone. Her fingers fidget with the hem of the oversized robe, and for a moment, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, something I’ve noticed she only does when she’s trying to find the right words. Her lips press together briefly, like she’s weighing what to say, and it makes her look so completely like herself—unguarded, soft—that my chest tightens just watching her.

Her voice is quiet when she speaks, steady. “Does it bother you? That they’ll think there’s something between us?”

I blink, caught off guard by the question. My first instinct is to say no, to brush it off like it doesn’t matter. But that’s not the truth.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I admit, my voice low. “Not because it’s not true, but because… I think maybe I don’t want it to be a secret anymore.”

Her breath catches—just barely—but I see it. Her hands rest against her knees, fingers curling into the plush fabric of the robe.

“Then why are you so worried?�� she asks, her voice softer now, almost tentative.

I shake my head, my hands moving restlessly against my thighs. “I don’t know. Maybe because once it’s out there, it’s not just ours anymore. It’s theirs. And I don’t want this—what we have—to feel like… like something we have to defend, or explain.”

Her expression softens, and she shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Austin…”

I look at her, and for a moment, the air between us feels heavier, quieter. She reaches out, her hand covering mine where it rests on the armrest. Her touch is warm, grounding.

“You’re right,” she says gently. “Once it’s out there, we can’t control it. But we can control how we handle it. And honestly?” She tilts her head, a small, wry smile curving her lips. “I’m kind of tired of pretending I don’t love you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest—not because I didn’t know, but because hearing her say it out loud feels different. Bigger.

I exhale a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I cover her hand with mine. “You just say stuff like that, huh?”

She shrugs, her smile widening just slightly. “Guess so.”

For a moment, I just look at her, my thumb brushing over the back of her hand. And then, without thinking, I slide off the chair and onto the couch beside her. She shifts to make room, her legs brushing against mine as I settle in, and when I don’t answer right away, her hand moves—just barely—to rest on my jaw, her fingers light, hesitant, like she’s giving me space to pull back if I need to. I don’t. Instead, I lean into her touch, the faint pressure grounding me in a way nothing else can.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

“Okay?” she echoes, her brows lifting.

“Okay,” I repeat, leaning in just enough for our foreheads to touch. “Let them talk. Let them say whatever they want. Because none of it changes this.”

Her smile softens, her hand moves back further, her fingers threading gently through the hair at the nape of my neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And for the first time in weeks, the weight in my chest feels lighter.

Because she’s right.

None of it changes this.

[rafesbabygirlx]

Can you do Rafe’s ex gf seeks comfort in JJ? Just pure fluff and maybe some angst when Rafe sees them out on day. TY

I love this idea 🙂‍↕️

𝚓𝚓𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚎𝚡𝚋𝚏!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎

𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚓𝚓 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 (𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎)

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The first two weeks were hell. You barely left your bed, barely ate, barely moved. The weight of Rafe’s absence pressed down on you like a boulder, suffocating and unrelenting. Even after everything—the drugs, the anger, the way he pushed you aside for his father’s approval—you still felt like you were drowning in the loss. You weren’t mourning him. You were mourning the version of him you convinced yourself was real.

Sarah was the only one who refused to let you waste away.

“Enough of this, okay? I’m not gonna sit here and watch you rot,” she said on the third week, yanking the blankets off your curled-up body.

“Sarah, I don’t—”

“Nope. Shower. Now. And then we’re going out.”

You wanted to argue, but the exhaustion of doing nothing had drained you more than anything else. So you let her drag you out, let her push you into a world that kept spinning despite your heartbreak.

By the fourth week, she started bringing you to the Chateau.

That’s where you saw him. Another set of piercing blue eyes, but these weren’t cold or calculating. They weren’t waiting for you to slip up. They were wild and full of mischief, warmth flickering behind them like the embers of a fire. JJ Maybank.

The Pogues welcomed you in without hesitation. They had seen you before—seen you standing behind Rafe, eyes wet with tears, breath hitching as you begged him to stop. You weren’t one of them then, but you weren’t one of him either. You worried about them when you should’ve worried about Rafe. They noticed.

JJ noticed.

At first, it was casual. Every time Sarah brought you over, at some point, you and JJ would slip away from the group. It was easy with him, natural. You talked about everything. About your past, your dreams, your fears. About how love—real love—was supposed to feel like safety, not suffocation. And he listened. Really listened.

By the fifth day, you knew more about each other than most people did in years. You learned you were the same—both shattered, pieced together with flimsy tape, only to be broken all over again.

On the sixth day, you kissed him. It was instinctual, something that bubbled up from deep inside you. But the second your lips met his, you pulled back. You were afraid he’d think you were using him. But you weren’t, it just felt right.

“JJ, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in before you could finish. His lips crashed into yours, and for the first time in forever, you felt light.

That night, you stayed curled up with him on John B’s pull-out couch, safe in the space between his arms.

Week five. JJ invited you to a kegger.

You hesitated at first, the nagging fear of running into Rafe gnawing at the back of your mind. But it was a Pogue party, deep in the Cut. He wouldn’t be there. And is he was there’d be so many other people, there’d be no way he’d find you.

You stayed by JJ’s side the entire night, the two of you tangled together in laughter, cheap beer, and a shared joint. The world was hazy, soft at the edges. For the first time in forever, you weren’t looking over your shoulder. The beer hit you a little hard when you realized you needed to use the restroom. You let JJ know and gave his a quick kiss. You felt good the whole night being there with him.

That is, until you started to head to the restroom.

A large hand gripped your bicep, fingers digging in painfully. Your heart stopped before you even turned.

You knew who it was.

When your eyes met Rafe’s, his pupils were blown, his breathing heavy. You barely had time to react before he started dragging you through the crowd.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you snapped, trying to yank your arm away.

He spun you, slamming your back against a rock.

“My problem,” he seethed, “is that my girlfriend thinks she can flaunt around with that nasty Maybank like I wouldn’t notice. Kissing him fun? You think he could make you feel the way I could?”

“EX-girlfriend,” you corrected, shoving at his chest. “Now you care? Now you’re so concerned on what feels good for me? What—Daddy not paying enough attention to you right now?”

His jaw clenched. His hand slammed into the rock beside your head, making you flinch. He had never put his hands on you before, but you’d seen what he was capable of.

A commotion behind him.

“Stay away from her, Rafe,” JJ’s voice cut through the noise.

Rafe smirked, turning to face him. “Or what?” He got up in JJ’s face, towering over him.

“JJ, please. Let’s just go,” you begged, but he didn’t move.

Rafe chuckled darkly before shoving JJ, hard enough to send him crashing into you. You hit the ground, the impact jolting through you.

JJ’s lips curled into a grin, blood coating his bottom lip. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Hurting her wasn’t enough when you were together, huh? You gotta make sure she’s miserable without you too?”

Rafe’s face twisted, his eyes darkening with rage. And then he swung.

The fight was brutal. JJ took a few hits, but he wasn’t afraid to give them back. You screamed, begged them to stop, but neither of them listened.

It wasn’t until Pope and John B finally wrenched them apart that it ended.

JJ stumbled toward you, blood smeared across his face. You were still sitting in the sand, hands shaking as you reached up to touch him.

“You’re hurt,” you whispered, wiping the blood from his cheek.

He grinned, wincing slightly. “Worth it.”

Without thinking, you kissed him.

Behind you, Rafe scoffed. “Congrats, Maybank. Enjoy my sloppy seconds. But don’t worry—I’m not done getting back what’s mine.”

You didn’t care.

Because all you could see was JJ.

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[worstgenerationloser]

#NeedAceFicWithNipplePlaying/NippleOrgasmWithHeavyDirtyTalkingFromAce

Please and thank you🙏🏻

,, A little more... ''

Portgas D. Ace x F! Reader (NSFW!)

Summary... you can't get enough of sneaking around with the second division commander, he can't get enough of his hands and tongue all over you.

Contains... nipple orgasm, nipple play, edging, sloppy kissing, friends with benefits, some attempted dirty talk... (fail)

Words... 1.5k!

A/N: I cringed at myself trying to write the dirty talk IM SO SORRY, also another apology it's kinda short...

"Slow down— the door isn't even closed." You speak in a hushed tone, paranoid that there would be eyes watching through the crack in the door, Ace groans dramatically and rolls his eyes at your paranoia, however. It's not like he's some kind of exhibitionist, he's simply recognizing that you're being completely ridiculous in your worries.

"Yep. Mhm... there's definitely sober people on Whitebeard's crew that would think to check an old raggedy closet and see if Ace and Y/N are getting it down. I think half of them forget we even interact half the damn time, chill out." Ace giggles, that sleazy smirk and those heavy lidded, tired eyes drawing his whole look back into the same work of art he is always.

When you two first started this little arrangement, that may have been true, but you've kept this up for a while now and even though you don't plan on stopping, things would get a little more complicated if Marco actually spoke up instead of smirking each time you and Ace stare at each other. Suddenly, the hands on your hips pick up their previous pace, rubbing your upper thigh and gliding up your body smoothly.

He sits down on a dusty crate of unnecessary items bought by whoever it was, long forgotten in a secluded storage closet. Ace's hands reach the hem of your shirt, sliding under without a second thought. Before you could retort, the clicking of the door shutting sounds off into the room, and you're engulfed in darkness.

"Wanna do it in the dark?" He teases you with the ghost of his breath, the pads of his fingers tracing your stomach before holding your thighs before he pulls you up onto his own, a soft gasp escaping you despite yourself. Another teasing remark is coming, and so you silence him with your lips, the same way you did the very first time.

His warm lips meet yours, coated in saliva and desire with barely anything else to give other than something sloppy and dirty. His eyes are shut as if he were pondering something, and his hand comes to your face to feel how much warmth has gathered on your cheek, while his lips do their best to warm you more. Ace's tongue smears saliva onto your mouth, and it's an odd slippery feeling, but not that different from when his mouth is on your other lips. He doesn't like kissing you much, and you don't know why, but you can't complain about someone's preferences, maybe it's a good thing he withholds things like this from you, because he is utterly addicting.

Your body is warm, you start to feel sweat forming on the back of your neck and the inside of your elbows, things are steamier in the closet, literally. Ace is sliding his hands over the fabric of your clothing, raising goosebumps on your warm skin with his tantalizing touch. A moan slips into his mouth, your tongue quivering as you scrape his bottom lip with it, and he finally lets you go breathe your own air.

"You know I got a light if you need, just ask." Ace pants, but he still holds up his flaming finger for you to gaze at, his freckled face illuminated by orange flames. He's beautiful, you think to yourself, you know he would only scoff and roll his eyes if you said something like that at this time again. One day he's gonna see his worth, and you hope it comes from the time you two have spent together so far.

"You're a jackass. Just fucking touch me." You groan, better not make things too emotional, he's sure to view it as just sex. You keep having to remind your giddy heart that this isn't romance, it burns but not as much as when his flame flickers a bit too close to you. He puts out his light, and you're both back in the dark again. Gods, you're nervous and anxiously awaiting his eager touch.

His long fingers come to rest under your shirt, tracing the curvature of your breasts over your bra. You have recently learned that Ace's eyes carry a strong presence, you can always feel them on you no matter how far he seems to be, and it's just that much more intense up close. Slowly, he lifts your shirt up just so it wouldn't cover your breasts, and you feel his breath begin to tickle your sternum. Without a word, you take your blouse off yourself, giving him a bit more free reign.

The barely audible noise of your bra coming undone and hitting somewhere on the floor as Ace throws it aside softly resonates in the room.

"I'm gonna need that later." You huff.

"You'll get it later, we got better things to focus on." Ace chortles, his smirk prevalent in his voice.

The cool air of the closet stiffens your nipples, making goosebumps form on the soft skin of your breasts as well. A small hum escapes Ace's lips, and you hear the sound of saliva clicking in his mouth as he shifts closer towards you, then things are silent for a second... Before a soft sigh whimper escapes you when you feel two fingers gently tug at your nipple, rolling it under their warm touch. Your hardened nipples begin to soften upon contact with such warmth, and Ace seeks to stiffen them back up. His other hand reaches to grope your untouched breast, kneading it firmly while also keeping a dash of tenderness in his palm as he grabs it in his hands the way you like, he's always been a fast learner when it came to various things, you could say he's an expert in you and your body at this point in time.

"I ever told you that you got some pretty tits?" Ace licks his lips, just barely able to see better than you can in the dark, and he's got his eyes on the prize. His fingers quit toying with your nipples as he dips his head downwards, pressing his moistened lips to your areola in hot kisses. Breath heavy, his tongue darts out to swirl around your nipple and coat it entirely in his saliva, making you squirm in his lap. A desire bubbles up in your stomach, and your thighs coincidentally trap one of Ace's own.

Though you try and still yourself, it's harder becasue it's Ace, not some random guy you'll forget about the very next week. You've practically trained him in all areas, so what if he's got you horny and wanting more just from a little nipple play? It's a natural reaction with a boy like him. Squeezing your eyes shut, your brows furrow when you give a small roll of your hips into Ace's thigh. A chill runs down your spine, and you feel your arousal dripping into your underwear. Ace's teeth come out to play in a soft nibble against the fat of your breasts, his tongue is hot and heavy against your skin, and it's not stopping here.

"I can feel how hot your pussy is getting." It sounds like he's about to giggle, but his mouth is stuffed full of your breast to the point most of what he says is illegible besides his wet breathing and sucking, your suspicions are confirmed when he smiles midway into sucking on your nipple.

"Whose fault is that?" That retort of yours only fires him up more— literally. His back is bursting into flames, and it lights up the room a little too much for your liking, but atleast you get to see his pretty face showcasing what must be pure bliss with his mouth wrapped around your tit. It feels warm, now that it's colder outside Ace seems to be the only thing to warm up your body. Your hands reach around the back of his neck, fingers interlocking themselves between the messy locks of raven hair on his head, and it calms him... you think.

Ace lets out a low hum, drool trickling down under your breast.

"Hm... Is it mine? 'Cause I'm worried you've got a side piece you're thinking of." Ace's giggles are muffled into your skin again. Finding time to make small jokes during sexual things like this is a bit too intimate for people who are supposed to be just friends with benefits. The impending retort you had in mind is shoved back into the depths of your mind when you feel his hands slide down your body, heading for the waistband of your pants.

Ace always keeps you on your toes, who has need for someone else? You would tell him, but maybe it's better if you show him instead. Gently placing your hands to cup his face, you ease him away from your chest and he thankfully gets the message, but it feels like losing a part of you when his tongue is no longer tracing your skin. Cocking his head to the side, he begins to speak up.

"Not feeling me tonight?"

Resisting the urge to make a joke, you keep the retort to yourself. You'll be feeling him a lot tonight.

END.

(here is ace photos for you to enjoy because I left on a cliffhanger)

[theambitiouswoman]

Please share a master list or tips on rebuilding self-esteem

Mindset—

Stop doubting yourself—would you let a friend talk to themselves that way? No

Talk to yourself like a friend or someone you love— “I’m not good enough” into “I’m growing every day” progress > perfection

Give yourself credit—you’ve survived 100% of your worst days and you will continue to do so

Establish core values you believe in

Self love—

Start your day and end your night with gratitude—name 3 things you love about yourself

Look in the mirror & hype yourself up over and over

Keep a Wins Journal—write down every little accomplishment and thing you are proud of

Set boundaries and honor them, if you are right or wrong, its a learning experience

Pamper yourself with facials, bubble baths etc

Confidence—

Take care of your body— eat clean foods, exercise, go on walks

Dress in what makes you feel good—even if it’s just to stay in the house or run quick errands

Learn something new—mastery builds confidence

Let go of—

Over explaining yourself—you don’t need to justify your worth

Comparing yourself to others

Toxic people & environments

Invest in yourself—

Get good sleep

Learn new things/skills that interest you

Dedicate time to your hobbies

Consume content that inspires you

[wolfie200510]

Hi! Can you write about a reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them?

Autor's note: I didn't know much about ed so I have to Google it so I'm really sorry if something is not accurate. I tried my best to write this good and I hope you will like it. Also, I'm sorry you have to wait so long.

You're perfect - Rafe Cameron 💖❤️‍🩹

Pics are from pinterest. Dividers: @enchanthings

Summary: reader who has eating disorders and Rafe helps her overcome them

Warning: eating disorder, bullying, body imagine disorder, mention of drug use (I guess that's all)

You and Rafe are friends since you two are little. Your parents are good friends with his parents so you two always spent a lot of time together. You always played together when your parents were talking about business stuff. As you two grew up, you went to the same school, and you were happy that you two were the same age so you two were classmates too. In primary school, it was just the two of you. Only you were there for each other, you even studied together. But in secondary school, he befriended some other guys, and he started spending less time with you.

You didn’t mind it, you know that he needs guy friends too and you were happy that he found some other friends but you also missed him. You felt like he forgot you. But the truth was far from that. Actually, he started to fall for you and when he realized that he quickly acted and pushed you away because he didn’t want to admit it. Of course, you had some friends too, but you weren’t really close to them.

It also didn’t help that as Rafe drifted from you, people started bullying you. You didn’t understand why they did it. Of course, you weren’t as pretty as the other girls in your class, and you weren’t as skinny as them. Even your “friends” started bullying you. You didn’t want to let their words get to your head, but they did. The more hateful words you get, the more insecure you felt. You weren’t fat at all, you didn’t even have any plus weight, but some people still called you fat and ugly.

This bullying went to the point where you started eating less and less so you can lose some weight and you even started counting the calories. You often skipped meals and always told your parents that you just weren’t hungry. And you did lose some weight. You even started using makeup to be more beautiful, but the bullying didn’t stop. You felt that it just got worser. At first, it was just in school that you overheard people talk about you, then people told it your face and they said that they will never understand how Rafe could still be friends with someone like you, then some people even started bullying you on only.

As things got worser over the years, you were considering that you will tell Rafe about it, but you end up not doing it. You know that he has his own problems, and you didn’t want to bother him with your problems. That was until one day Rafe showed up at your place and he asked for your help. He told you about his addiction and how his relationship got worser with his father. You listened to him as he just talked and talked to you all night as his head rested on your chest, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you were playing with his hair.

“I don’t know what to do, Y/n. I’m sorry that I just dropped everything on you like that. Fucking hell, I’m sorry for everything. That I pushed you away and everything else. I’m sorry I only came to you now, but I didn’t know who else would listen to me” he said.

“It’s okay, Rafey. You know I’m always here for you and you can always come to me” you whispered to him, and he nodded.

“I want to stop with the drugs but it’s so hard. I can’t do it alone. Please help me” he asked you and lifted his head to look at you.

“Of course, I will help” you said which made him smile a little and you smiled back.

‘God, I missed your smile. I missed you so much. I was an idiot for pushing you away. But now that I have you back, I will never let you go’ he thought to himself.

Just as you promised to him that night, you help him overcome his addiction. It took a lot of time, and he fell back to using drugs a few times, but you never give up on him, and he was extremely grateful for you to that. He was grateful that you were there for him. With your help he got better and better each day, and now he has been clean for months.

Meanwhile he got better, you got worser. People bullied you more because Rafe started spending time with you again. You know, he is popular, and you were aware, he is very attractive, and a lot of girls like him. While you were just you. Sometimes, you had the urge to tell him about the bullying, but you never told him.

“I just don’t understand why Rafe likes her. I mean… did he see her? She’s not even pretty” you overheard a girl once, after school.

That girl’s words played in your head constantly and you tried to lose even more weight. You tried to act like everything was fine, but Rafe noticed that you eat less, and you started to skip meals. When he first came to you that night, he noticed how much weight you lost already but he didn’t think much about it. But now that he spent more time with you again, he noticed the change in your behavior and your eating habits.

As days passed, Rafe had enough. Whenever he asked if you wanna go out and grab some food, you always come up with some excuse.

Today, the same happened as always. He was at your place, you two were in your room when he asked if you wanna go out to have dinner, but you said no. You were sitting on your bed with a book in your hand as he was standing in the middle of the room.

“Why?” he asked you when you declined his offer again.

“I’m not hungry” you said and shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s a lie” he said “You didn’t eat anything today”

“I did it” you protested.

“Yeah. What did you eat?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but you couldn’t answer to that, so you avoided eye contact and tried to focus on your book again.

He sighed and sat down next to you, taking the book from your hand then he placed a hand on your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing” you said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Please tell me, Y/n. You helped with my addiction. Whatever the problem is, let me help you. Please” he pleaded to you, but you shook your head.

Rafe opened his mouth to speak again but your phone buzzed with a notification. You know, it’s probably another hateful message from someone so you quickly reached for it, but Rafe was faster and grabbed your phone. When he saw the message his eyes darkened.

“Who wrote this?” he asked, his voice dripping with anger. He knew that he will make that person pay whoever wrote it.

“I don’t know” you mumbled.

“You don’t know?” he asked angrily but then he took a deep breath to calm himself.

You took your phone from him with a sigh and opened all the messages. He saw one message, so it wouldn’t change anything if you tell him the truth. You handed him your phone and he read every single message, and you see how his eyes darkened as he read more.

“How long this is going on?” he asked as he looked up at you and you see the anger in his eyes.

“For a while now” you admitted quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? That’s why you lost so much weight? That’s why you don’t eat properly?” he asked you and you just nodded a little.

“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems” you whispered and turned away from him, but he grabbed you chin and forced you to look at him.

“You will never bother me, okay?” he asked firmly and all you could do was nod again “Next time, something like this happens tell me. And now tell me everything about it”

You sighed and wanted to turn away from him, but he didn’t let you. You looked back into his eyes and his eyes were pleading for you to tell him the truth. You sighed again but you told him everything. How it all started and how it got worser. His heart broke with every word you said. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice that sooner. That he didn’t notice that you’re struggling.

“Y/n… None of those things are true. You’re extremely beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on” he reassured you “Don’t you ever starve yourself because of some jealous people” you smiled at his words as your eyes welled up and you nodded.

After that night, Rafe always made sure that you eat properly. He even decided to spend a few weeks at your place to make sure that you’re eating properly and don’t skip meals. He always woke up earlier and made some light breakfast for you. The first few times you didn’t want to eat it.

“That’s too much, Rafe. I’m not hungry” you protested.

“Y/n, please… You didn’t have to eat all of it. Only eat a little please” he pleaded to you, so you started eating what he prepared for you. To your surprise, what he made was delicious. Soon you get used to the fact that he makes breakfast for you, and you start waiting for it because he was always able to surprise you with it.

As you started eating more and more in the mornings, he took that as a step forward. He knew that you wouldn’t get better in a few days. He knew that dealing with eating disorder is not easy, but he desperately wanted to help you overcome it. You still didn’t eat as much as you used to, and you still said no whenever he offered to go out to grab something for dinner. But he was patient, and he didn’t want to force you to eat. He was just glad that, at least now, you have breakfast.

As a few weeks passed Rafe noticed that you finally started eating more. You eat more for lunch and sometimes you said yes when he offered that you two should go out to have dinner. Rafe knew that you’re still counting the calories, but he still took it as a success.

“You know, I’m so proud of you” he said after you come home from a restaurant, and you laid in his arms in your bed while he was playing with your hair.

“Really?” you asked and looked up at him.

“Yes. Really. I’m so happy that you eat more now and that you gained back a little weight. Don’t get me wrong, you’re always beautiful but you are much more beautiful like that” he whispered and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks for helping me” you whispered.

“You helped me too. That’s the least I can do. And soon, you will get rid of counting calories too” he said determined.

Just as he said, he continued to help you and when he bought something for you, he always erased the calories from the packaging so you can’t check it.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” you asked when he did that the first time. He bought you some chocolate and you wanted to check how many calories it contains but it was all black.

“I’m dead serious. Just eat it and don’t worry about the calories” he said seriously.

As the weeks passed, he still did that, and you slowly get rid of the habit of checking the calories in the packaging. As Rafe saw that you stopped looking at the calories and that you finally started eating properly again, he was proud of you, and he was more than happy that he was able to help. The only thing that would make him even happier, if he had the courage to tell you how he actually feels about you. But he was afraid that you don’t feel the same so he decided to keeping his feelings to himself.

[drdemonprince]

do you think it's worth it being nonbinary if you dont have like, body/physical dysphoria? Ive been identifying as nonbinary since i was 14 and when i was in high school it was great, i had my little liberal bubble queer friend group, and the rest of the school didnt pay much attention to me. My mom accepted me in the "i dont get it but whatever i dont want you to stop talking to me so i guess ill go along with it" sense, which while not perfect, its fine. But last september i started studying engineering and. Its really not going well. Like 85% of my classmates are straight guys and they range from thinking nonbinary people are cringe (and therefore they make fun of me when i walk by) to being extremely transphobic (im very scared of some of them.) And ive been trying to make friends with the girls in my class, and some of them are nice, but i can tell they also dont like that im nonbinary. One of them literally told me "i get that being a woman is hard, i dont like having periods or the ways guys look at me either, but you dont gain anything by denying yourself". So. I kind of think about that nearly every night now. Doubting whether im really nonbinary. And it really doesnt help knowing that basically every girl here either thinks that or just straight up thinks im gross and weird, ive literaly heard one of them go 'what is THAT doing in the womens' when i walked past her from the bathroom. I dont like going to class much.

Im thinking of detransisioning, i guess. I never started taking hormones (good luck getting those in eastern europe lol), so I could easily start looking like a cis girl again. These will be my coworkers and bosses, i cant live like this until i retire. i want to have fun uni experiences too. And ive been thinking so much lately about why im even doing this. Its just a few words that people call me by. Theres nonbinary people who use binary pronouns and pass as cis, i could be one of them and just not tell anyone that im actually nb. but on the other hand, it feels like im giving up on the trans community if i do this. Giving up on activism. Im sure im not the only one in this situation, if i detransition ill be letting them down completely. I dont want the next generation to be as fucked as this one. Also i came out very publicly to my entire class (i wanted to find other queer people to be friends with, i hoped that would do the trick maybe. I was so naive and stupid) and it will be so fucking humiliating to go back on that and im scared ill do all that and theyll keep treating me the same anyways because im already "tainted" by transness. So i would let so many people down for nothing.

The one other trans friend from my high school friend group solved this issue by paying more than ten fucking thousand euros per year to study in the netherlands btw. The exchange rate to our currency makes it somehow even worse than it sounds. Hes probably going to be able to start taking hormones before he gets his bachelors. I wish my mom was that rich :|

First of all, I want to say that I am so sorry anon that you are facing so much fucking exclusion and harassment. That kind of treatment pushes a lot of trans people into detransitioning, and it is brutal, and that this experience can happen to nonbinary people who are not on hormones but have otherwise transitioned is something that does not get acknowledged enough.

I can't tell you what you should do in your situation, because no outcome is great. But I think you might find some elements of this article from Kier Adrian Grey on ceasing their use of they/them pronouns (among the cis public!) interesting. They're an "ex anarchist" and a bit of an anti social justice dogma kinda person so I don't agree with them on many things, but I did like this point that they made:

"Hear me out: maybe the best way to understand they/them pronouns, within the context of a pluralistic democracy, is as a subcultural norm, a way for LGBT people to show respect for one another within our community. That sense of belonging I felt when I first found queer spaces was profound, and if using gender-neutral pronouns gives someone that gift, I am all for it. "But I do wonder if we are setting people up for hardship when we tell them that they should hope for, expect, or insist on they/them pronouns being used by everyone they encounter, and that they will be emotionally injured every time this fails to happen. In my thirteen years, misgendering was rarely malicious, and yet it still fed into a wounded identity and a suspicious worldview."

I don't think that what Kier has written about their experience applies to even most nonbinary people, and if taken too prescriptively by the wrong people it could be an awful dysphoria cope that leads a person to some pretty dark places. But! For someone whose feelings about it all are like Kier's, and whose life experiences have given them similar perspective, I think there is something to it. It's true that thinking a great deal about how one is gendered by others is crazy making and sometimes isolating, and if that's the sole way in which one's transness interfaces with the world, it's not always to the person's net benefit.

Here's the full piece:

I will say that based on all you had to say, anon, it would be a lot better for you if you could get around a lot of queer and trans people! What you're struggling with is not being seen and appreciated for who you are, and all the cis people undermining you are driving you crazy and making you doubt yourself. I'd MUCH prefer if you could find more local queer community or relocate if necessary to feel more appreciated as you are.

BUT if you find yourself resonating with this author's points and it feels like only being out to other trans and queer people would be good for you, that is okay to do. That isn't "detransitioning," it's being choosy about whom you trust. And many of us navigate those decisions. I'm not out as trans to everyone I meet! Most people just think I'm a cis guy. The big difference between you and me is that I have medically transitioned (and if you want to, I recommend ordering some hormones on India Mart!!!). You have some choices here about how much information you give to other people, how much you trust people who are incredibly ignorant, how much you will expose yourself to harm by making requests for treatment that might not happen, and how to build the community you need to survive this awful transphobic reality.

[morgana-larkin]

Ok, here's the next chapter of 'Just Tired'! I thought it would be out Sunday but ended up getting snowed in from a blizzard with my date from Saturday to Monday Morning and didn't have much time to write. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: My other story will be out tomorrow as I'm just about finished it with!

Part 9

Just Tired - Part 10

Warnings: Manipulative relationship (mentioned), reference to smut

Words: 3.1k

You woke up to your alarm going off the next morning and you immediately move to turn it off. You go to reach it but someone picks it up before you and you look to see Melissa standing there with your phone. She immediately turns it off and then gives your phone back to you.

“What are you doing up early? You’re not going to work.” You ask her and she shrugs.

“Woke up again, couldn’t fall back asleep. So I just kept cuddling you and watched you sleep a bit.” She says softly and then she looks down as if she’s embarrassed. “Hope it’s ok that I watched you for a bit. You just look so peaceful.” She adds and you smile.

“Of course.” You tell her and she smiles back at you. “What was the nightmare about?” You suddenly ask and she looks at you.

“It doesn’t matter.” She says and then looks away from you. You sit up and grab her hand and she looks at you.

“You don’t have to tell me but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.” You tell her and look into her eyes. She then sighs and sits down beside you and looks at you.

“I was cut off from everyone else. My entire family, my friends, and you.” She says and then looks away. “I got cut off because Joe told me to cut them out and I listened to him, just like I did when I was with him.” She tells you and you get her to look at you. 

“Melissa, you’re not alone, you never have been and you’ll continue to have people in your life.” You tell her and hold her hand. “Listen, I have to go so I can go get ready and get my things at my place but we can talk more about this later.” You say and she nods. 

“I understand, the kiddos need you.” She says and you cup her cheek. 

“I know you need me too, I won’t forget about this conversation and we can further discuss it at lunch or after school in person. Whichever you prefer.” You say and then grab your phone and leave the room. 

“Y/n, what are you doing here, dear?” Barb asks as she runs into you.

“Melissa called me last night saying she needed me.” You tell her and she nods.

“Is she ok now?” She asks and you shrug.

“Better than she was last night but she feels alone.” You tell her and then go to leave. “I have to go back to my place but I’ll see you at school.” You say and then leave.

Melissa watches you leave in your car through the window and she sighs. She can’t stop thinking about when she kissed you. She liked it, she liked it a lot and she wants to do it again. But she knows you’re right with the fact that she’s not in a place to be serious with anyone or even thinking about it. She then lays down back on the bed and pulls the pillow you laid on and brings it to her body. Melissa ends up falling back asleep a few minutes later, holding the pillow to her body. 

She opens her eyes and feels better rested and checks her phone to see the time, 8:54am. She then gets up and gets dressed before going downstairs to get something to eat. She eats some breakfast and then sees something shiny on the floor and goes to pick it up. She sees that it’s your fidget bracelet that you wear everyday and it probably fell off in your rush to get back to your place. She quickly puts the plate in the kitchen and then goes upstairs to have a shower. 

She gets out and brushes her teeth and hair before blow drying her hair. Once it’s dry, she puts some underwear and a bra on before doing her makeup. After her makeup she puts some pants and a shirt on and looks at herself in the mirror to make sure she looks nice. She looks at the time again and she has enough time to drop by the school to hand you your bracelet while you’re all on break. She locks the door before she gets in her car and heads to Abbott. 

She pulls up in the parking lot and gets out before entering the building. She sees the hallways are relatively empty except for a few teachers and students walking around. She heads straight to the break room and enters and all eyes land on her, including yours.

“Melissa? I thought you were staying home as you’re recovering from a cold.” You tell her from the coffee machine, and she puts it together that you and Barb came up with a cover story for why she hasn’t been at school. 

“I am, feeling a lot better actually but I was heading to the grocery store and found your bracelet in my car.” She says and you walk up to her and grab your bracelet from her with a smile. 

“Thank you.” You tell her and she nods. “You didn’t have to drive all the way here just to give it to me.” You add. 

“Well I also wanted to talk to you.” She says and you nod before grabbing your stuff and going to your classroom.

“What’s up?” You ask her.

“Do you think it’s a good idea for me to go to the bar tomorrow?” She asks you and you look at her.

“Well ultimately it’s your decision whether you want to go or not, but I think you need it.” You say. “Do you want to go?” You then ask and she takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter to me what you choose. What matters is how you feel and that you’re comfortable.” You add and she looks at you.

“I want to go but I doubt any girl will flirt with me.” She tells you and you walk up to her and grab her hand.

“I’m positive that multiple girls will flirt with you, but if no one flirts with you at the bar then I will.” You tell her and she nods her head before smiling at you.

“Thank you.” She says softly and you hug her. She gets caught off guard before she smiles and hugs you back.

Melissa leaves Abbott before lunch ends and heads back to Barb’s house. She grabs the pj shirt she wore last night and smells you on it and smiles before a tear falls down her face. She can’t believe how much her life has changed this week. She found out her husband was manipulating her the entire time they were together and she immediately left him. She then found safety in your arms and has been going to you when she needs someone and you’ve been more than willing to help her. She has no idea why, when she yelled at you on Tuesday about having a crush on you, she didn’t think she’d be right about it, she just wanted to push you away. Melissa can’t help but feel bad that she might be using you and your feelings for her. 

She then has a big cry about everything in the bed while clutching the shirt that smells like you. After she’s done crying she has a small nap. When she wakes up she goes downstairs to the kitchen and makes the lasagna that Gerald mentioned was his favourite yesterday. She looks at the time after she starts making it and sees that they’ll be back any minute. Gerald mentioned spending time with his friends and run a couple errands so she had the house to herself since she got back. Gerald and Barb walk through the house a couple minutes later and they see her in the kitchen.

“Melissa, what are you making in the kitchen?” Barb asks her.

“Lasagna.” She simply says and sees Gerald’s face lights up.

“Really?” Gerald asks her and Melissa nods. “Oohh, I can’t wait.”

“I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here while I go through the separation.” Melissa tells them.

“Of course, you’re always welcome here, you’re my best friend and we consider you part of our family.” Barb tells her and Melissa nods at her while looking down so Barb goes and hugs her. Melissa turns around and hugs her back and a few tears slip down her face. Barb hears a sob coming from her and just keeps hugging her as Melissa cries on her shoulder and rubs her back to help soothe her.

“Thank you.” Melissa says to Barb.

“Of course, you’re not alone in this.” Barb tells her and Melissa whips her eyes before she nods.

“I see you talked with Y/n today.” She says with a smile and Barb nods.

“She might have mentioned something but you aren’t alone and I’ll never abandon you. We haven’t known Y/n that long but it seems like she wants to be friends with you and wants to be there for you as well.” Barb says and Melissa nods before she goes back to cooking. 

Melissa ends up sleeping through the night and wakes up well rested on Saturday morning. She goes downstairs and goes to the kitchen where Gerald is cooking breakfast and Barb is making coffee.

“Hey, look who’s awake.” Gerald says and Barb turns around. 

“Want some coffee? Gerald is making breakfast and there’ll be some for you as well.” Barb says and Melissa nods.

“I would love some cooking please.” She says and Barb nods before getting her some

“So I hear you’re going to a bar with Y/n tonight.” Gerald says and Melissa nods.

“To this gay bar that she’s been to. She seems to think a lot of young girls will hit on me.” Melissa tells them.

“Well I wouldn’t be surprised, you’re really beautiful.” Gerald tells her and Barb nods.

“He’s right, and Y/n thinks you’re beautiful, and she’s young.” Barb agrees with Gerald.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting Y/n, she seems nice and you both talk about her quite a bit.” Gerald says and then gives Melissa a plate of food and they all go to eat.

After supper, Barb helps Melissa with her makeup after she gets dressed.

“Are you nervous or excited?” Barb asks as she applies the eyeshadow to one eye.

“Both. I’m not looking for anything but I can’t help but think about what if I end up flirting or kissing a girl. I also didn’t do anything like this before which is why Y/n offered this, but what if I’m too old for this or what if something goes wrong?”

“Melissa, Y/n seems to know the queer scene here, if she thought something would go wrong then she wouldn’t have invited you to this bar.” Barb tells her. “There, that looks good.” Barb says as she finishes the makeup. Melissa turns around and looks in the mirror and smiles. 

“I look…pretty.” Melissa says and Barb nods.

“You look very pretty, dear.” Barb says and Melissa looks down before looking back at herself. Just then the doorbell rings and they hear Gerald answering the door and they hear your voice. “Ready?” Barb asks her and Melissa takes a deep breath before nodding. 

They go downstairs and sees you and Gerald laughing about something and then your eyes meet Melissa’s. You smile at her and then you take in her appearance and your jaw drops. She’s wearing her classic leather pants, a low cut blue shirt and leather jacket. 

“Might want to wipe away your drool.” Gerald tells you and you quickly wipe your chin. Melissa walks up to you and looks at you.

“What do you think? I haven’t been to a bar in awhile, and I’ve never been to a gay bar.”  She tells you and you smile.

“You look perfect, a real showstopper.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Ready to go?” Gerald asks you both and you both nod. Gerald drives you both to the bar so you both are able to drink and let loose. You walk in with Melissa and you bring her to the counter so you both can order a drink. You both get a drink and you see Melissa looking nervous so you lean into her. 

“Just relax.” You say and she nods before drinking half her drink. A few minutes later you lean into her again. “I’m gonna go dance, wanna join me or stay here?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“I’ll join you.” She says and you lead her to the dance floor as you both hold your own drinks.

You then start dancing and you quickly catch the attention of another woman who starts dancing with you. Melissa feels the alcohol starting to take effect and she starts dancing. All of a sudden, a young woman comes up to her and looks at her.

“My name is Emily, can I dance with you?” She asks Melissa and Melissa immediately nods before she starts dancing with the young woman. You look over and you’re both happy and a bit jealous that Melissa is dancing with a young woman. 

A few minutes later Melissa excuses herself and goes to get another drink. While waiting for her drink, another woman comes up to her and introduces herself.

“Hi, I’m Anna, I haven’t seen you here before.” She says and Melissa smiles and nods.

“It’s my first time here, here to have some fun and maybe discover my sexuality.” Melissa says. “And my name is Melissa.” She adds.

“That’s a beautiful name and it’s perfect for you.” Anna says to her.

“Thank you.”

“So you haven’t been with a woman before?” Anna asks and Melissa shakes her head. “Do you want to dance?” Anna asks her and Melissa nods before Anna leads her to the dance floor. Anna starts to dance and holds Melissa’s hand and gets her to start dancing as well. 15 minutes later Melissa goes to get another drink and Anna goes with her. Melissa starts drinking her new drink and then Anna brings her to the dance floor as this well known song that every person in the bar is excited to hear. Melissa sees everyone starts singing and dancing so freely until the pre-chorus comes on and everyone starts doing the same dance. Melissa listens to everyone singing and dancing while she does some random dancing. 

“H-o-t-t-o-g-o, snap and clap and touch your toes, raise your hands and touch your toes, dance it out, you’re hot to go.” Everyone sings and then the chorus comes on and looks to see you doing the dance as well. H-O-T-T-O-G-O, you can take me hot to go!! H-O-T-T-O-G-O, you can take me hot to go!!” Everyone shouts and Melissa smiles at seeing you having fun. Melissa just randomly dances through the song and then Anna puts her hands on Melissa’s waist and is dancing closer to her now. Melissa feels excited and nervous about this right now. She’s excited that such a young beautiful woman is definitely hitting on her but nervous that she might do something wrong.

“Is this ok?” Anna asks as she leans in close to her so Melissa can hear over the music. Melissa looks at her and nods before she places her hands on her shoulders. 

A few upbeat songs come on, like ‘Shots’, ‘Fireball’ and ‘Guess’. The third one Melissa assumes is another known gay song that she knows nothing about. She makes a mental note to ask you about a possible list of known gay songs for her to listen to. Anna is right up against Melissa’s body at this point and Melissa is tipsy after 3 drinks. Melissa ends up in Anna’s arms after getting a fourth drink and feels Anna’s hands going up and down her waist and thighs and Melissa is enjoying it more than she thought she would. Melissa likes being touched by a random girl more than she liked being touched by Joe. That comes to her mind and she pushes it to the back of her mind and smiles at being touched like this by a beautiful woman. 

Melissa is suddenly being spun around and comes face to face with Anna. Melissa is looking at her face before she surges forward and kisses her. Anna immediately kisses back and Melissa pulls back after a few seconds. She looks around and sees you making out with a woman on the dance floor not far away from her. She feels a surge of jealousy hit her and then she surges forward and kisses Anna again. You happen to check on Melissa a few seconds later and sees her making out with the woman she’s been dancing with for about an hour and you smile at her having fun. 

45 minutes and 2 drinks later, Melissa finds herself being trapped against the wall and brings Anna in for another kiss. While making out with her, Melissa suddenly feels something she hasn’t felt in a long time, arousal. Her body is enjoying making out with a woman and is getting wet between her legs. Anna then gets bolder and cups one of Melissa’s boobs and Melissa moans into the kiss.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” Anna asks her and Melissa looks at her and thinks about it for a few seconds before nodding.

“I do, but I just have to let my friend know so she doesn’t get worried about me.” Melissa tells her before Anna nods and Melissa walks over to you. You’re making out with another woman when Melissa taps you on your shoulder and you pull away and look at her.

“Hey Melissa, what’s up?” You ask her.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m going to a girl’s place.” She tells you and you pull back from the girl even more and look at Melissa.

“Are you ready for that?” You ask her and look at the girl that Melissa has been dancing with.

“I am, and excited about it.” She says with a smile and you nod before smiling at her.

“Have fun then and call me if you need anything.” You tell her and she nods before she goes back to Anna and then goes to her place. You end up going home with the girl that Melissa saw you making out with and you can’t help but picture Melissa there instead of the girl, who’s name you’ve forgotten.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta 

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[homuraakemis]

Vi and her mental resilience

I don't think the fandom gives Vi enough credit for how mentally resilient she is. I see a lot of people say they wish the show explored more of Vi's trauma (and I do wish the show had given her traumas more attention), but a lot of the time what people mean when they say this is that they wanted Vi to show more obvious signs of trauma, and I don't really think that would make sense for Vi's characterization, precisely because I think one of the main points of Vi's characterization is that she really is that mentally resilient.

The thing people forget is that not everyone reacts to trauma in the same way. Not everyone will break down, have hallucinations and PTSD episodes like Jinx. Some people will, in fact, cope better with their traumas than others, and I think Vi is one of these people.

As a child, we see that she is not affected by the death of her parents in the same way Powder is: Powder starts having hallucinations already in the bridge scene, and she develops severe abandonment issues. Vi, on the other hand, takes on the responsibility of being the protector (which obviously takes a toll on her, but I will talk about that later). She obviously grieves her parents, but she is able to deal with it: when Vander takes her to the bridge where her parents died, she is initially distraught, but is able to deal with it. She focuses on the good in her life and what she still has (her sister and adoptive family), instead of focusing on what she's lost. (By the way, I'm not saying any of this to discredit Jinx or say that she's weak. I'm just describing how Jinx and Vi reacted in different ways to their trauma).

In Stillwater, we see the exact same thing: she lost her entire family, she feels guilty about slapping and “abandoning” Powder, but she never lets it break her spirit. She focuses on her hope of seeing Powder again, she exercises her body, she beats up Silco's goons as a way to gain information on Powder (this is stated on Vi's council archives). Again, she focuses on hope, on what she still has, instead of sinking into despair.

During Jinx's tea party, we can see a glimpse of how she dealt with the deaths of Vander, Mylo and Claggor: she tells Jinx to remember them, without realizing that this is triggering for Jinx, because for Vi, their memory is actually what gives her strength. I'm aware that the situations are a bit different here, because Jinx was directly responsible for their deaths while Vi wasn't. But I would point out that Vi probably also feels guilty for their deaths: she is the one who took Mylo and Claggor there on the mission to rescue Vander, right after Vander gave her that speech about them being her responsibility. Vi clearly also feels guilty for what happened to them. But while Jinx let that guilt consume her, without being able to move on, Vi actually is able to move on, and sees their memory as something good, something that gives her strength. Once again, we see Vi's tendency to focus on the positive instead of the negative.

Then, when she accepts that her sister has changed and needs to be stopped, instead of breaking down, Vi still wants to take responsibility for it and help stop Jinx. She focuses on how she can fix the situation. And by the end of the show, after losing Jinx (though I do think Vi suspects Jinx survived), we see once again Vi's resilience: she is still grieving, yes, but she is able to sing, she is able to smile at Caitlyn, and she is still determined to “continue in the fight”. She is taking the steps to heal, even if she isn't totally there yet.

Of course, Vi is not made of steel. I'm not saying she is a pinnacle of mental health. She has moments in which she does break down and becomes self destructive, like her pit fighter era. But in this moment, she really had lost everything: her family, her sister, Caitlyn, even Ekko had disappeared. She had no hope. But even then, we see that she can still function: she is able to pay for an apartment, she is not really suicidal (in my opinion, I don't think she is), and she is able to go on despite her despair. Yes, she is being self destructive, but she still goes on. And as soon as she gets a little bit of hope again from Jinx coming to find her to save Vander, we see her leave that despair behind and once again cling to hope really fast.

Another mental issue that I do think Vi has is of course the fact that she was parentified, took on the role of the protector, and that she tends to see everything as her responsibility, and she has difficulty letting go of the people she loves. But even here, I think people don't give her the credit she deserves: Vi might find it difficult to let people go and let go of her guilt, but she actually does make the effort. She tries to reach out to Jinx in season 1, but when Jinx refuses her help and continues with actions Vi disagrees with, Vi does let go of her and accepts that Jinx needs to be stopped. She might still feel some guilt for how Jinx turned out (“I'm the one who created the monster"), but she does make a conscious effort to not blame herself for Jinx's actions (“I'm done blaming myself for your mistakes"). And in the end, yes, she tries to free Jinx, but only because she believes Jinx has changed for the better (and Vi was right about this, Jinx had indeed changed). If she didn't believe this, Vi would not have tried to free her (as we see in act 1, Vi is able to hold her sister accountable for her crimes if she believes that her sister is remorseless for her actions). And when Jinx locks her in a cell, Vi does not go running after her once she is freed by Caitlyn. She doesn't know Jinx is suicidal, but if she really was this person so unable to let go that the fandom claims she is, she would still have run after Jinx. And yet, she stays to fight, she doesn't go running after her sister. In the final scene, even with the suspicion that Jinx might be alive (and I'm certain Vi does suspect this), Vi doesn't go running after Jinx, she voices her commitment to stay with Caitlyn because this is what she wants.

So yeah, all of this was to say that I think Vi's mental resilience is underrated by the fandom. She suffered the loss of her entire family, was imprisoned and beaten up for 7 years, had to deal with her sister completely changing into a criminal who tries to kill her and kidnaps her, suffered heartbreak from her relationship with Caitlyn, and despite it all, she was still able to keep going, to cling to hope whenever she could, keep her good heart, keep her determination, and always focus on the positive parts of her life. She is able to let go, she is able to move on from her traumas, and we see this multiple times in the show.

(By the way, there's this great video analysis of Vi's resilience by a psychologist. It's in Portuguese, though, and I don't think the automatic captions are very good, but if you speak Portuguese, definitely check it out!)

[moonzzip]

spill the tea | kwon jiyong

a/n – so, I wrote this during class, I couldn't pay attention, I was thinking too much about jiyong. I don't know if I'll do another part, it depends on your reaction, initially, I don't plan on doing pt.2, I'm enjoying doing a bit of angst so much, i don't understand... again, I just wrote what came to my head, the english is still kind of... bad, but I hope you like it!

everything has been lightly reviewed, please let me know of any grammar error/incorrect word!

summary: jiyong is anxious, very nervous about appearing on stage again in front of so many people, but you appear.

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: a fair amount of self-deprecation, abusive work, mentions of anxiety, reader has confidence issues, angst, fluff

lowercase letters, word count: 1,1k (again)

spinning the rings on his fingers, jiyong’s palms sweat, and he unconsciously wipes them on his light pink pants. looking around absentmindedly, his thoughts race a mile a minute, and he exhales hurriedly.

hearing two soft knocks on the door, he looks at it, a bit confused.

“jiyong-nim?” you whisper, peeking in with only half of your face visible, your body still outside.

the man nods, giving you permission to enter. you smile softly and finally step inside.

“excuse me…” your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper, not wanting to be a bother. “since i know you like tea, i decided to make some and bring it to you.”

in your hand, you hold a metallic thermal bottle, and in the other, a small, delicate package of chocolate cookies you had baked just a few hours ago.

you can’t help but wonder how he must be feeling, returning to the stage after so many years. being part of his personal staff, you and the team always communicate with him directly.

well… not you. the others.

you never had the courage—nor the opportunity, really. not for lack of trying, but because of someone specific.

of course, the great g-dragon would have a highly qualified team of professionals. but you never felt like one of them, and that person made sure to remind you of your “proper place.” the moment jiyong turned his back, all of her frustrations were dumped onto you. maybe you were hired as a verbal punching bag for the “blessed being” without realizing it. it made you wonder if you had remembered to read the fine print.

she didn’t even bother to call you by your name—always using other names, but never yours.

of course, you had thought about reporting it, but someone as insignificant as you in this industry, compared to her—who is beloved and has more connections than you could count—who’s to say she wouldn’t send someone to get rid of you while you’re in the bathroom? you never know. you know they would never fire her. you losing your job would be much easier than any close employee of jiyong’s facing consequences.

you? a new hire? who gets stepped on by senior staff? reporting her and expecting her to be fired for abuse of power and verbal harassment—if that’s even considered a crime? never. only in your dreams.

you’ve always known that keeping quiet avoids unnecessary arguments, even if you constantly bite your tongue to hold back a sharp reply. you need this job to survive. the salary is too good, and you think you can endure a certain level of mistreatment. at the end of the day, you’re working for g-dragon.

kwon jiyong.

so, you put up with a little more.

you’ve always been someone who minds their own business, who hates being a burden, who puts effort and dedication into everything you do. that’s what got you here, and you won’t let nerves over trivial things get the best of you.

sometimes, you stop and wonder if it’s worth tolerating such ridiculous treatment. but then you remind yourself—you’re on your own. you handle things as best as you can with what you have.

just you and yourself.

you don’t remember having any true friendships you’d take with you for life. maybe some colleagues, but nothing like “i need a shoulder to lean on, can i talk to you?”

you don’t dwell on it. you don’t even seek that kind of connection anymore—you gave up long ago.

you care too much about what others think of you. you like leaving a good impression—being seen as reliable, always prepared, capable of doing whatever is asked of you.

but you also let people step on you—on your pride, almost on you, literally.

when did that become “okay”?

you have no idea. it feels like it’s always been this way. you’re invisible. never invited to anything. you watch others having fun, calling each other out for drinks, and you can’t even picture yourself in a situation like that.

honestly?

you silence your thoughts for now.

you hand him the tea and cookies, and he stands up, bowing politely, ever so charming. a small smile grace his beautiful face, bringing a subtle glow of admiration to your own, soon he sits down again.

“i tried making passion fruit tea with pomegranate… passion fruit helps with stress and mood, pomegranate helps with the throat in case of hoarseness or pain, and also—”

jiyong watches you ramble (your voice still soft and low, almost a whisper), his lips forming a small pout, eyes slightly wide, eyebrows subtly raised. one hand rests on his chin, legs crossed, elbow propped up.

for the first time since arriving here, he finds himself distracted, momentarily forgetting his nerves and anxiety.

thinking back, he realizes he has never interacted with you directly.

of course, he’s seen you around—always busy, whether carrying heavy boxes, taking notes from a distance, staying late to fix a loose button or sequin on his outfit, bringing drinks, coffee, and snacks for everyone (never personally handing them to him), and countless other tasks that he’s almost certain aren’t your responsibility.

he’s never seen you with anyone. a friend, or something like that.

not that he had noticed before.

but, you know, when people are close, it’s something you can feel.

jiyong’s thoughts (just like your rambling) are abruptly interrupted by the loud, sudden swing of the dressing room door.

both of your heads snap toward the sound.

“jiyo-ssi!! you’re up next, it’s packed today, hurry up!”

ah, it’s her. the very person who used you as her personal punching bag.

without so much as a polite greeting, she shoves you aside and grabs jiyong’s arm.

still surprised, he simply looks ahead as he’s dragged away in a rush.

you just stare down at your hands, now clasped together in front of you, until—

“___?”

startled, you look up—and see g-d smiling at you.

in your eyes, he glows.

“thank you so much. i feel a lot better now.”

his voice, deep yet gentle, carries the words, and suddenly, the world seems more colorful as you both look directly at each other.

have you ever noticed how beautiful his eyes are?

and then, the door closes.

you stay there, frozen, until your legs weaken, and you crouch down, placing a hand over your racing heart, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“…but you didn’t even drink the tea…” you murmur, embarrassed.

a/n – thanks for the positive reactions on 'thinkin' bout you'! I'm glad you liked it, it just makes me want to write more. this time I heard JK's 'still with you', it brought up a lot of feelings and I ended up pouring it all out in the reader's self-deprecating parts. Sorry not sorry. sorry again for my english, feel free to correct me kindly!

[danisbrainrot]

shauna shipman x reader a/n: minor season three spoilers, angst and unhinged shauna ahead. NSFW (it's smut because shauna this season is making me feel things). afab reader.

you watched shauna storm off, refusing to participate in whatever crazy shit the group was making you do now. you felt bad because nat had been trying to boost morale, and van had worked hard on coming up with unique to entertain the group, but you understood why she wouldn't stay around. ever since losing the baby, everyone treated her differently—like she was a tightly wound coil about to snap.

they weren't wrong; you had seen her in a rage scribbling so fast in her diary, almost setting it fire. you often watched the way she tormented mari, and shauna could be cruel. however, there was something so tragic about her that called out to you.

losing her best friend, her baby, and then javi in quick succession would cause even the sanest of people to snap, but shauna's rage simmered quietly until she unleashed it on others. everyone feared her, but you. . . you were drawn to her.

excusing yourself, you left the circle and followed shauna. everyone else, too distracted to notice, didn't see you leave.

you found shauna kneeling at her baby's grave, whispering something unintelligible. you crept closer to eavesdrop, only to snap on a branch. her head snaps up, and she locks eyes with you. it's quiet for a moment as she eyes you up and down—a shiver ran up your spine. out of delight or fear, you didn't know. perhaps both.

quicker than the blink of an eye, shauna pressed a knife to your neck. "what are you doing here?" she hissed, holding you against a tree.

you struggled to form a response, shamelessly excited by the sharp blade digging into your neck. "i was just checking up on you, shauna," you promise.

"are you here for my baby? i won't let you anywhere near him," she snapped, her face inches from yours—you could feel her hot breath on your face.

"no, i'm not here for him. i'm here for you, shauna. i noticed you left the circle—"

"i don't want to listen to a bunch of dumbasses talk about how my best friend and baby needed to die," she spat, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. if this was anyone else, they'd be terrified—but you felt something different. pity. shauna resembled a scared animal backed into a corner.

so, going against your common sense, you leant forward—showing you weren't scared of her—and smashed your lips against hers. you pull back instantly, trying to gauge her reaction.

she was frozen in place, staring at you with wide eyes—gorgeous brown eyes that had hardened after the crash. the same eyes that you'd become smitten with ever since you tried out for the soccer squad.

a panic shot through you as you realised how dumb your mistake was. she just stared at you, her anger-filled eyes fading and revealing the truth—vulnerability.

shauna's lips were on yours again. they were hungry and demanding. her hands gripped your cheeks tightly as she devoured your mouth, pressing her body up against yours to keep you in place. you rest your hands on her waist, trying to ground her.

the bark was rough against your back, the thin material of your shirt doing nothing to stop it from scratching you. you tried to readjust into a more comfortable position, but shauna wasn't letting you move. instead, she pulled away and almost ripped your shirt off. you gasped softly, receiving an eyebrow raise from shauna—almost like she was asking you if you had a problem with how rough she was.

"strip," she barked. you immediately followed her commands, pulling your shorts to your ankles and stepping out of them, placing them next to your discarded shirt. shauna pulled her butterfly shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere on the floor and unbuckled her belt. "naked."

hesitantly, you reached behind and unhooked your bra. "have you done this before?" you question, pulling the straps down and finally exposing your boobs.

shauna stared hungrily at your chest, her eyes unmoving as she shook her head. "i've had sex, just not with a woman," she replied. her eyes finally met yours, "shouldn't be that hard to learn."

you were about to scoff when she recaptured your lips. it was a messy kiss, full of teeth and tongue as shauna unleashed her pent up anger on you. she squeezed your boobs, groping them like a horny teenage boy.

her knee pressed against your heat, revealing your dripping heat. she pulled away, yanking your panties down to your ankles before running a single finger through your slick. holding her finger to your face, she smirked at you, "i held a knife to your throat."

"it was hot," you shrugged. shauna growled, taking your lips into hers again. this kiss wasn't any nicer—but you wouldn't have it any other way. you wanted her passion. her anger. her hunger. shauna bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to moan and allowing her to shove her tongue down your throat.

her knee was pressed against your core but didn't move, while her hands rested on your boobs. you were seconds away from whining and begging her to do something when she pinched your left nipple. you gasp violently, and something dark stirs in her eyes. shauna's lips move to your throat, biting down on the pulse points before licking them better. all the while, her hands twisted and pinched your nipples deliciously.

"this is how i've always liked it," she mumbled against your neck, "rough," she made her way to your clavicle, shoving you higher up the tree with her knee and leaving marks on your collarbone. "jeff never wanted to hurt me. never wanted to leave evidence for jackie to find," she sneered. "but when i'm done with you, everyone will know what happened."

one hand remains, rough handling one of your nipples, while the other trails down your sternum. the lower her finger went, the more chills rushed up your spine. shauna placed a few more marks on your clavicle, then your chest before she pulled away to watch her finger tease you. she went agonisingly slow; her finger circled your belly button before it followed your snail trail down to your bush.

you gripped onto her shoulders to ground you. she made eye contact with you, delighting in how much pleasure you were getting from this, and she hadn't even touched your most sensitive area yet.

when she finally touched your clit, she remembered how she touched her own and swirled it delicately to begin with. you were incredibly wet, so she felt comfortable picking up her pace. your breathing quickened, a soft moan slipped from your lips, but that wasn't enough for her. she wanted to see you squirm. she wanted to hear you scream for her.

she traced your slit with her finger, as you mourned the loss of contact with your clit. without warning, she slipped her middle finger into your pussy—eliciting a gasp from you. "shauna," you whispered, feeling her pump it deliciously. your wetness made it to easy, so she added another one almost immediately. "curl them," you begged, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, pausing her ministrations as she worked out how to curl them. "you. . . you still move," you bit your lip, watching her glare at you.

"i know. i'm working it out, shut up," she hissed. her pace quickened, as she took your advice. you moans were no longer soft, gaining volume the faster she went. shauna picked up a rhythm, rocking you against the tree—but you were too blissed out to feel the pain of the bark scratching your back.

her thumb circled your clit, while she continued to pump two fingers in your pussy. she struggled at first, trying to grope your boob, finger your and play with your clit—it appeared to be too much for her inexperienced self—but eventually got the hang of it. you were in bliss, getting perfectly fucked by shauna, you felt bad for not returning the favour.

a burning sensation in your stomach began to soar, as shauna brought you closer to the edge. you could feel your orgasm was swiftly approaching. "shauna, holy shit. i'm so close, i'm almost there," you moaned. her pace quickened again, as shauna began violently fingering you. any pain was replaced by pleasure as you screamed her name. shauna suddenly realised how close everyone else was and didn't want this to end, and pressed her lips against yours to shut you up.

it wasn't until shauna put her mouth back on yours that you felt your orgasm come over you in waves. you moaned in to her mouth, as she fingered you through your orgasm. you panted as she finally pulled away, pressing her forehead against yours. "my turn," she growled.

you dropped to your knees, hooking your finger around her panties and ensuring you maintained eye contact with shauna as you pulled them down.

unable to wait any longer, eager to please her, you pressed your nose against her bush and inhaled her sex. tentatively, you kitten licked her clit—her hand roughly grabbed the back of your head and shoved your face into her pussy. needing no more instruction, you laved at her clit. she grunted softly, as your licks treasured her sensitive nub. you weren't satisfied with the noise she was making, however, and decided to draw moans out of her another way.

clutching her love handles, your nose nudged at her clit as you licked strips of her slit. your tongue dipped, causing a loud moan to erupt from her. shauna covered her mouth with her elbow, looking down at you fiercely. the grip on the back of your head tightened as she rocked her hips against you.

you ate her out like a starving woman, and she was your last meal. if this was winter, she might have been. but thankfully it was springtime.

shauna was close, you could tell. her hips rocked erratically as you began frantically eating her out. your nose rubbing against her clit was the final straw. shauna let out the loudest moan you'd heard as she came.

you lapped up her juices, eating her out through her orgasm before cleaning her up. when you finally pulled away, you looked up at her through your eyelashes and smirked at her face. shauna stared down at you and smiled—the first genuine smile you'd seen from her in a long time. it was a ghost of a smile, but it was still there.

"i think you should hold a knife to my throat more often," you joked.

"you should move in to my tent. . . in case i ever need to blow off some steam," she mumbled.

"okay, but i'm a big spoon—"

"i'm not spooning you," she snapped.

you raised your hand in surrender, "whatever you say, shauna." you smirked, knowing she'd crack, eventually.