#they just banter so well with one another | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review by @zyafics

ok i can't contain myself to write so i will be reading (sorry for all the tiktoks send over dms hahaha) ⬇️

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

always obsessed with your descriptions and im grinning so hard knowing that's ME hehehe

It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

NOT FOR LONG I READ THE WARNING

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing.

my dom girlyyy

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s. Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGG (muffled behind a pillow)

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

me rn: login who???

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

im so giddily rn, their banter is TOP TIER

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

OH I SPELT IT WRONG LOLLLLL

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

🤭 im like a schoolgirl rn

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

imma be so honest i thought WE were gonna be cheating but i guess HE'S cheating that scumbag

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

I KNOW so give me that dick 😁

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice. As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety creeped in. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

i need him to SLAM into logan ohmygod

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

ANGRY MAKEOUT SESSION LETS GOOO

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

oh im horny

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

oh HE'S horny

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on.

ok im at a cafe, reading this smut on my 14'' screen where everyone can surely see. let me pack up and go home and i'll be back to react.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

I'M BACK

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

Oh. My. God. this is so fucking hot what the FUCK

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

it's me, but THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!!!!

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

IM GRINNING my favorite part of public sex smut is the fact they're almost caught hahahahaa

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

my baby my baby my babyyy

final thoughts—i'm obsessed with this. ur writing. you. ohmygod, as always, the first thing that comes to my head is your descriptions. when you were describing reader, the medical training, the equipment and the environment, i always feel so immersed by your vocabulary and imagery. next, the fucking BANTER, oh you got me clutching my chest, giggling in the middle of a cafe. thank god no one was looking over my screen. but truly, i love how lowkey smitten rafe is with reader. he's always in love with her before the story truly begins and i love how much softer this version of rafe is. don't get me wrong, he's possessive and a beast on the ice, but something about him is so baby girl. thank you, gigi, for doing my request justice, i swear i want more!!!!

looking like motivation - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you.

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made. And he made a lot of those.

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury. You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing.

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain. It was from trying to resist the urge to say something that might actually cross the line. But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp, watching your reaction.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rafe shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.”

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about. Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, I am focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you.

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise. He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful. It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, Rafe couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch.

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, though there was a playful lilt to his voice. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, his tone still light but with an undercurrent of something more serious. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to mask the sting of rejection. "No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing firm even though his eyes on you made your heart race. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But Rafe was hard to read when he wanted to be, his playful exterior a well-practiced mask that he rarely let slip. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting. Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, your demeanor as cool and composed as ever. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. It was enough to send a jolt of electricity through him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And Rafe had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up. But the words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest tightened.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“Come on, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know. His chest tightened, protectiveness swelling inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking slightly as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made your heart ache even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted, your voice small and lost.

He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes soft as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away. He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone. But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found myself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point. But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart.

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“You know,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the subtle edge in his tone. “Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Excited? Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal. He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step.

“I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world at that moment, made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you whispered back, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply.

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more.

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch.

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.”

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair.

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

"Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge.

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm.

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

"God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out.

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it.

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of."

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

"Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high.

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

"You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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rpgchoices · 2 days ago

Text

About Davrin and his past (from the banter with Bellara) and more (SPOILERS)

Spoilers for the whole game!!

Davrin being the kind of person who believes he has an expiration death and should not get attached, only flirting and having flings, quick to start the flirting romance (one flirting choice and he already has the heart in the description)

"Thrill of the chase"

who calls himself a blade and believes he is ready to die at any moment and desperate for purpose

The way Davrin comes off is isolated, with purpose, slightly suicidal and harsh. In the banter with Bellara she asks a lot of questions about his Dalish clan (which he left because he felt constrained) and if he regrets leaving it:

and

(I promise I will make a compilation video of all the dalish banter)

So the core of Davrin's character is purpose and he chose the hunter + grey warden because of it. This banter feels quite lonely, if I have to be honest, and in another banter scene he also says (if I remember correctly) that he does not visit his dalish clan (a part from his uncle). It almost feels like a sunk-cost-fallacy. From his first quest we know that he left his clan, ended up broke and could not go back so he started hunting monsters but he needed purpose.

The second core of Davrin's storyline is that sometimes when he talks about Assan he is talking about himself. Assan is, in his mind, a sharped blade (arrow) who needs to quickly learn how to fight to survive (and in some cutscenes Davrin brings as justification the fact that this is how he learnt as well, on his own and out of necessity). So the whole dialogue about "can the nature of something change" is essentially about him as well.

It starts to change with Assan of course, we see him actually get attached to ONE thing for the first time ever. How do we know? First of all, he did not seem particularly attached to the two trainers, but second, he also says so in his romance dialogue:

And when Davrin is about to die (archdemon) the one thing he thinks about is Assan ("Give Assan a hug for me"). So yes, "The thril of the chase" was just that. He was flirting, he wanted to keep things casual and then "his nature" (or more like: the nature related to the purpose he had given himself) started to change.

His character arc goes from a sharpened blade with no attachment and eager to die for a bigger purpose, to someone who does not want to die anymore, who literally wants domestic bliss.

Which is even more tragic because he is one of the two characters who can die (and will die depending on your choices), which lead you to this scene where he says:

Also I am pretty sure all the other romances say "I love you" during the game (I think Emmrich during his personal quest), or during the romance scene pre-final fight. Let me know if I am wrong! Davrin's "I love you" scene instead is the literal last scene before the final battle (the one after you rescue Neve/Bellara).

Davrin's last cutscene pre-fight instead is pretty explicit (i think the most explicit one after Taash) and is mainly a reassurance about surviving the battle and the future.

So YES I love Davrin. Great romance, A+, wish it had more scenes in the middle, wish we knew more about his Dalish clan, but at least there is enough space between the lines and work on fanfics!!

#davrin #i have many davrin feelings #assan #dragon age #veilguard spoilers #veilguard #best romance in the game imho #da

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gilbertscurls · 1 day ago

Text

Stuck With You ➵ Matt Sturniolo

Matt sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through channels as he waited for you to come back from the kitchen. You had insisted on making popcorn for your movie night, though he knew you’d likely burn it or set the microwave to the wrong time, like always.

“Hey, Matt, do we put the popcorn on one minute or two?” your voice called from the other room.

He smirked to himself. Called it.

“Two minutes, but stop it early if it starts slowing down,” he yelled back, leaning into the couch with a grin.

“Right. Got it,” you replied, your tone filled with your usual confidence despite the fact you always asked the same question every time. He shook his head, already anticipating your probable victory over yet another microwaved snack.

Moments later, you appeared in the doorway, triumphantly holding a large bowl of popcorn. “Success! No burnt kernels this time,” you announced, plopping down next to him, your head resting against his shoulder.

“I’m impressed,” he teased, draping an arm around you. “You’re really stepping up in the world.”

You laughed, shoving a handful of popcorn into his face. “Shut up. I’m practically a chef.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” he chuckled, stealing a piece of popcorn from the bowl. “Master of all things microwaveable.”

You settled into their usual spots, your feet tucked under his legs while you scrolled through the endless sea of romantic comedies on the streaming service. He already knew which one you’d pick; you had a habit of rewatching the same movies over and over, and tonight would be no different.

“Ooh, let’s watch The Proposal again,” you said, your eyes lighting up as you hovered over the familiar title.

Matt groaned playfully. “Again? Haven’t you seen that movie like… fifty times?”

“Only like ten,” you corrected with a smile. “But come on, you know you secretly love it.”

He sighed dramatically but clicked on the movie anyway. “Fine, but I reserve the right to make fun of every cheesy line.”

“Deal,” you grinned, cuddling closer as the movie began.

The opening credits rolled, and soon enough, you were lost in the predictable but comforting story of romance, witty banter, and happy endings. Every so often, you would mutter along with your favorite lines, your voice a soft echo of the characters on screen.

Matt wasn’t really paying attention to the movie, though. Instead, his mind kept wandering to how normal this all felt—how natural it was to have you here, your head against his shoulder, your legs tangled with his, as if you’d always belonged there.

“You know,” you said during a lull in the movie, your voice casual but thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” he teased, nudging you lightly. “That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, poking him in the side. “I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about us.”

His heart skipped a beat, though he kept his expression relaxed. “Yeah? What about us?”

You sat up slightly, turning to face him. “About how we’re always together. Like… we spend more time together than most couples I know. And we’re not even sick of each other.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood light despite the way his chest tightened at your words. “Speak for yourself. I’m definitely sick of you.”

“Liar,” you grinned, lightly smacking his arm. “But seriously, it’s kinda funny, isn’t it? How we’ve just… become this. Like we’re stuck together.”

Matt’s eyes softened as he looked at you, the playful banter fading for a moment. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We kind of are.”

You smiled, leaning your head back against his chest. “Well, I guess there are worse people to be stuck with.”

He chuckled at your words, his chest tightening at the thought of being stuck with you. Stuck with your sass, your clinginess, your endless chatter.

Stuck with your love for cheesy romantic comedies, your inability to cook anything that didn't come from a packet, your habit of stealing all his hoodies.

He was stuck with you, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove

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daisymbin · 1 day ago

Text

too handsome! - kim mingyu

warnings: alcohol & a bantering boogyu

pairings: kim mingyu x reader

genre: silly drunk confessions? friends to lovers!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i can't believe this is the end of the drunken confessions series. I hope you had as much fun reading the series as I did writing them!! 🤍

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

you didn’t know what was more of a surprise: the sight of kim mingyu sprawled out on the living room floor, head resting against a pillow that had somehow found its way under him, or the fact that he was currently singing—if you could even call it that—an off-key rendition of a song you were pretty sure didn’t exist.

“mingyu?” you called out, stepping inside and carefully setting down the takeout bags you’d brought. “what... what happened here?”

seungkwan, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a resigned expression, gave you a look that screamed exasperation. “oh, thank god. finally. please come take care of your pouty big baby.”

you let out a laugh, glancing between him and mingyu. “what’s wrong with him?”

“what’s wrong with me?” mingyu repeated, his voice slurred but full of mock offense. he pushed himself up onto his elbows, glaring at you through half-lidded eyes. “you’re what’s wrong with me! you took forever! i almost died waiting.”

seungkwan let out an exaggerated groan. “he’s been whining for the past hour,” he said, waving a hand at mingyu. “going on and on about how you abandoned him and how the world is unfair and how he’s too handsome to suffer like this.”

“i am too handsome to suffer like this,” mingyu insisted, turning his pout on seungkwan. “look at me! i should be cherished, not left here to rot.”

joshua, who had been watching the whole scene unfold from the armchair, chuckled. “well, you know what a good bottle of whiskey does to him,” he said. “he doesn’t know how much he’s drinking until it’s too late.”

mingyu dramatically clutched his chest, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. “betrayed by whiskey, yet again. the tragedy of my life.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to your overly dramatic best friend. “mingyu,” you said gently, kneeling beside him. “you’re not dying, okay? i’m here now.”

he looked up at you with wide, glassy eyes and a pout that would have melted even the coldest heart. “you’re finally here,” he whined, folding his arms. “but you were late! so late. and i was lonely.”

“i was gone for, like, an hour,” you pointed out, trying to keep your voice steady despite the giggles threatening to burst out.

“an hour is basically a lifetime,” mingyu shot back, flopping onto his back with another dramatic sigh. “you’re lucky i’m forgiving. but just so you know, i expect you to grovel.”

“grovel?” you repeated, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. “for what?”

“for breaking my heart,” he declared, pointing a shaky finger at you. “and leaving me here with seungkwan and his terrible attitude.”

seungkwan gasped, placing a hand over his chest as if he’d been mortally wounded. “my terrible attitude? excuse me, i’m the only one keeping you from full-on sobbing and ruining the carpet. show some respect, kim mingyu!”

mingyu stuck out his tongue, earning a scandalized gasp from seungkwan. “you see this?” seungkwan turned to you, his expression as dramatic as ever. “this is what i have to deal with. he’s insufferable.”

“you’re insufferable,” mingyu shot back, though his words came out slightly slurred. “and mean. so mean. you should be nicer to me, seungkwan. i’m fragile.”

“fragile?” seungkwan repeated, looking like he might burst out laughing. “you’re built like a damn tank. the only thing fragile here is your ego.”

mingyu groaned, pressing his hands over his face, leaning closer to you. “ugh! see? he’s so mean. you should comfort me.”

“okay, okay,” you said, fighting back a smile as you knelt down beside mingyu. “i’m here to comfort you. no more bullying.”

mingyu peeked at you through his fingers, his lips forming a pout. “you always know how to make me feel better,” he mumbled, his voice soft. “even when i don’t deserve it.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, your smile fading slightly at the seriousness in his tone.

mingyu sighed, lowering his hands from his face. “you’re always there for me,” he said, his eyes growing glassy. “even when i’m annoying and whiny and... and so obviously in love with you.”

your breath caught in your throat. “what?”

his eyes widened in horror, and he immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “what,” he mumbled through his fingers, panic flashing across his face. “uh-”

“mingyu,” you said, your heart pounding. “what did you just say?”

seungkwan’s jaw dropped, an "oh my god, he's stupid." slips out before he clapped a hand over his own mouth to keep from screaming. joshua leaned forward, eyes wide with disbelief.

mingyu, looking utterly betrayed by his own mouth, let out a strangled laugh. “um... surprise?”

you stared at him, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through you. “you... you’re in love with me?”

he groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow. “i didn’t mean to say that,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “this is the worst. the absolute worst.”

“mingyu,” you said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “do you really mean it?”

he lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. “yeah,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i really mean it. but if you don’t feel the same, please just pretend i never said anything. i can’t lose you.”

your heart swelled, and a smile slowly spread across your face. “you big, dramatic idiot,” you whispered. “how can i not?”

mingyu’s eyes lit up, and a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. “wait... really?”

“really,” you said, laughing as you cupped his face in your hands. “i like you, too.”

he let out a joyous, relieved laugh, grabbing your hands and pulling you into a tight hug. “this is the best day of my life,” he declared, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“even though you embarrassed yourself in front of seungkwan and joshua?” you teased, pulling back to look at him.

he shrugged, a sassy grin spreading across his lips. “worth it,” he said, winking at you. “besides, i’m too handsome to be embarrassed for long.”

“oh my god, yeah and you're too handsome to be this oblivious yet here we are.” seungkwan groaned, throwing a pillow at mingyu. “get a room, you two! or better yet, get him to stop being so annoying & shut his mouth.”

mingyu caught the pillow and smirked, hugging it to his chest. “never,” he shot back, winking at you again. “being annoying is part of my charm, right?”

you laughed, feeling your heart swell with affection. “right,” you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

and as mingyu beamed at you, looking happier than you’d ever seen him. he's too handsome not to be loved, right?

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 1 day ago

Note

Hey girl! I absolutely love your work. The way you write Desi reader is phenomenal

I was hoping you could write a Lando fic where he and Reader go to a trampoline park for a date and he's live streaming. He sees that she's very sweaty from all the fun and he comments on it and she says "as if you could make me this sweaty, Norris" AND IT GETS CAUGHT ON CAMERA

If you're not comfortable with the last part maybe only the trampoline park date?

Sweaty Opportunities ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

ᰔᩚ ln x reader 🧸ྀི

ᰔᩚ fluff + humour + smau 🧸ྀི

masterlist ☾☼

date days were y/n's favourite, even more than date nights. of course, date nights had a different class of its own. with the wine, and the fine dining, and the pretty dresses and suits that always end up on the floor of the living room because they couldn't wait to make it to the bedroom. it was amazing, definitely.

but, y/n tended to enjoy the date days more. it contained of spending the entire day exploring, eating, and just being kids. they would be in far more comfortable clothes, and would walk around hand-in-hand everywhere. most of their date days were usually lando's ideas, and they were always something reckless and exhilarating. it always made lando's face a pretty red that y/n could never stop kissing.

this particular date, lando had told her that he was going to be making another landolog since it had been a long time. y/n had readily agreed, well aware of how much lando enjoyed making the landologs.

"babe, are you ready?" his voice called out from the living room.

"coming!" y/n replied, trying to get her anklet untangled from her sock so that it didn't break.

lando stood at the door of the room, with the camera in his hand, "chat, this happens every time! i tell her we need to leave at 12, she starts getting ready 12!"

"liar! i was ready to go before you!"

"apparently not, seeing that i've worn my shoes and everything, and you still only have on sock on," lando teased.

"my anklet got stuck again," y/n looked at him with the best puppy eyes she could.

lando sighed, always unable to resist her cute face, "fine, hold the camera,"

she smiled, making a funny face at the camera before she turned it around to record lando. the man had knelt on the floor, and was focused on getting her anklet untangled.

"he's such a nice boy, taking care of me. mumma approves of you too, na," y/n cooed at him.

lando smiled, shaking his head at her, knowing that she was making fun of him. he made a sound from the back of his throat, acknowledging that he heard her. y/n ran her fingers through his hair, talking in the camera how soft his hair was, and how she was envious of it.

"alright, done," lando said, as he stood up after untangling the anklet. he offered his hand to y/n, and she took it, standing up. lando pulled her close to his chest, the camera stuck between them.

y/n laughed, "lan! you're crushing the camera!"

lando pressed a kiss to her lips, and said, "well, they didn't need to see that anyway,"

the two grabbed their essentials, still bickering and bantering, laughing into the camera, as they left the apartment, and into the car.

the camera recorded the couple singing (read as: screaming) taylor swift songs on their way to lando's surprise date location.

"where are we going?" y/n asked.

"we're almost there, lovie. a little more patience."

"look who's talking about patience!" y/n turned towards the camera, and said, "this man has the least amount of patience i've ever seen, okay?"

"that's not true!"

"you almost burned down our home because you decided to set the oven at double the temperature because you thought it would cook quicker!"

"logically, it makes sense!"

"its a miracle we have a roof over our heads, lando!"

he laughed, a loud, shrieking kind of laugh.

pulling into the parking lot, lando turned off the ignition, and quickly grabbed the camera to catch y/n’s face change from confusion, to understanding, to childlike excitement. he knew this was one of the few places y/n had always wanted to come to, and now, she would finally have the opportunity.

“you got me to a trampoline park!” y/n shrieked.

lando winced at the loud sound, but smiled nonetheless, “happy date day, baby!”

y/n wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, the camera forgotten on his lap, as he hugged her back. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” she whispered.

“i love you,” he whispered back.

she kissed him, letting him know that she loved him too.

getting out of the car, y/n jumped excitedly as lando laughed, holding the camera. seeing lando lock the car, y/n immediately began running towards the entrance. zooming on the camera to show just how far she had ran, lando said, “chat, she’s a little crazy, but i’m so head over heels for her,”

following y/n inside, lando handed her the camera as she showed the place around and yapped. meanwhile, he paid for the tickets, and walked to where y/n was. she had been standing by the popcorn machine, talking to the camera like she was talking to another human. sneaking behind her, lando wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. y/n laughed, but let him walk towards the entrance of the trampoline park.

she set the camera down, angling it towards them, as the couple removed their shoes, and stored it in one of the cubicles.

“so, how long are we here?” y/n asked.

“well, it’s three hours of jumping and bouncing-”

“that’s what she said,”

“-and then we go out for lunch, and have cheesecake for dessert, and back home, where we can either sleep or do other things if we have more energy,” lando finished.

y/n smacked his arm, “you better edit that out!”

“you’re the one with the dirty mind! i just meant we could bake something or have a movie marathon!”

“you’re lying, you liar!” lando laughed as he ran from y/n’s smack attack.

grabbing the camera, he ran inside, immediately bouncing and gaining more speed than y/n. but, she wasn’t far behind. though, once she began jumping on the trampolines, her smack attack on lando was quickly forgotten. the couple went through every zone the park had to offer, playing trampoline basketball, jumping into a ball pit, and obstacle courses that were almost everywhere.

y/n pushed lando often, laughing every time he fell and bounced back. lando returned the favour. they challenged each other to stupid things, like who could jump the highest.

“it’s not fair! you’re taller than me! of course, you jumped higher than i did!”

“that sounds like a you problem, lovie!”

“bitch!”

or, they challenged each other to who could fall the farthest in the ball pit.

“i totally won!”

“no, you didn’t! you moved the balls from the sides, so now we don’t know!”

“oh, quit crying just ‘cause you lost!”

“you lost!”

most of the challenges were unfair for y/n, given that lando only proposed the ones that would benefit him, and in her excitement, she wouldn’t realise it until after she lost. she did try to trick him and win, and that worked. lando said it didn’t count, but everyone knew who the boss was.

“ready? three, two, one, go!”

“ow, ow, ow, ow,”

“lovie? you okay? what’s wrong?”

“i think i twisted my ankle,”

“oh, baby, lemme see,”

“ha! tricked you!”

“wha-? hey! no fair!”

“sorry, can’t hear you from the finish line!”

their friendly competitions had resulted in red faces shining from sweat, and bright smiles. the day was exactly what they needed, and y/n had plans to show just how grateful she was to lando for planning such a date. they exchanged kisses, played with the other kids in the park, and tried to outdo one another. it made y/n fall more in love with lando.

the camera facing towards them, lando watched as y/n jumped on a trampoline square behind him, spreading her arms and legs, making a star every time she was in the air.

“you’re so sweaty,” lando commented as he looked at his girlfriend’s flushed face.

y/n smirked, “it's because of the jumping around for three hours. as if you could ever make me so sweaty, norris,”

his mouth fell open as he processed her retort. she laughed at his expression, and began jumping away. lando quickly grabbed her hand and said, “as if i could ever- come on, we’re going home,”

“what? why? we still have lunch left!”

“nope. i’m going to show you just how sweaty i can make you,”

y/n laughed but followed. she wasn’t going to pass on an opportunity like this. she’d never.

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hi! i tried to make this desi!reader, but i just didn't find a lot of places where i could incorporate that, so i tried my best to stick to a neutral, imagine-what-you-like character. i hope you enjoy this! i've also got a link for my taglist, prompt list, and all of that you can find here!

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #formula one #ln4 #f1 imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln x reader

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seitmai · 1 day ago

Note

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it. Because he was looking at you.

He is so whipped 🤭

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

Carole would slap him from beyond the grave

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

Just some little coincidences 🤭

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

That's some dedication, I respect that

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that." You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways. And then your eyes drop purposefully down. The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top. "You wouldn't," he rasps. "I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him. "Sweetheart, c'mon." "Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?"

Not even those baby cow eyes can convince her, which is unstable when it's about Penny's rules, I wouldn't dare going against them either (not even for a pair of baby cow eyes) ☝🏻

"I think you enjoyed that." You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

Big bonus of that job, I would enjoy it immense every time hehe

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special." "Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease.

Facts 🤭🤷🏻‍♀️

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me." He leans in closer. "And what's that?" You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

I can't decide if I wanna be her or be with her 🤭🤔

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.” You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard.

Rooster is like:

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

This made me giggle

I loved this story so much!! She is so smooth and Bradley is so in love, the perfect combo for amazing banter 👏🏻

A prompt party, Alexa? How in the world did I miss that? I'd be over the moon if you could write a little something for Bradley + "i’m gonna marry you one day." 🪩 ✨

Rebecca! Now you know I’m always down to write a little something for a smitten Bradley! I hope you enjoy!

It was a surprisingly quiet night at the Hard Deck.

You could actually hear the music playing out of Penny's old juke box, rather than just the faint essence of notes for whatever oldie was queued up over the usual rowdy ruckus. And there were more empty chairs scattered about than there were taken ones.

It was one of the rare rainy days they got in San Diego. The gray skies and drizzle driving even the best of Uncle Sam's finest under blankets and curled up on couches.

Bradley always liked the moody weather. He liked the way the clouds seemed to cling to the coastline. He liked the rough rolling waves as they broke against the shore with more force than they usually did.

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it.

Because he was looking at you.

Bradley had been trying to ask you out for the better part of two months now. And he was starting to think that you were giving him the runaround.

He'd learned that first evening that you were only filling in as a favor to Penny- she and your mom went way back as sorority sisters- for a few months as Jimmy recovered from his knee replacement surgery.

But he couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something there.

All he needed was one date to prove it.

But any time he got close to asking you out or asking for your number, you were pulled away by something or another. The sound of broken glass. A pointed throat clearing from a thirsty patron. An emergency trip to the storage closet.

Rain was good luck in some places, and Bradley needed all the luck he could get. It hadn’t been on his side in the past two month, but tonight was his night. He was sure of it.

Especially considering he was the only person seated at the bar.

You'd been popping out and checking on people, delivering refills personally to the few people who had braved the elements instead of having them come up to the bar.

Rooster was patient, he didn't mind waiting his turn. After all, he had a shiny new NYT subscription to keep him company.

He smiles to himself when you work your way back to the bar, grabbing the bowl of limes and a cutting board, and setting up right in front of him. He watches as you deftly slice and quarter the limes into wedges, their bright scent clinging in the air.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen less of you tonight than I do when this place is packed?” Bradley asks, saving the article he was midway through before closing out of the app completely.

“I’m just a one woman show here tonight, I told Penny to stay home." You're tidy and efficient in the way you store the prepped wedges and work to clean up the already immaculate bar. "It's means a bit more running around for me. But I don't mind, I like to keep busy."

"So I've noticed."

You look up at him from under your lashes, as you wipe down the prep space. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Rooster?"

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that."

You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways.

"Oh, Bradley," you say with a soft sigh. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley..."

And then your eyes drop purposefully down.

The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top.

"You wouldn't," he rasps.

"I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?" You tsk, with a self-satisfied smile. "And here I thought you were a Boy Scout."

Bradley just shakes his head amused as you sashay up to the bell and give it a loud, long ring. A couple whoops go up in response, but no one gets up. Yet.

You walk back towards him with an all too pleased smile.

"I think you enjoyed that."

You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease. "You gave me no choice. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. And as much as I love Penny, I have a healthy dose of-"

"-fear-"

You smirk. "I was going to say respect. But also you're not wrong."

"And what about me?" he asks, sitting up straighter on his stool. "What are your impressions of me?"

"Oh you?" You tilt your head to the side, letting your gaze linger on his face as you muse. "You look like trouble."

"Do I now?"

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me."

He leans in closer. "And what's that?"

You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard.

“That’s a bold statement from the man who still has yet to ask me out on a date.”

He opens his mouth, to do just that, after months of failed attempts. And then another one of the patrons saddles up to the bar, waving you down for your attention.

Rooster groans.

The smile you give him promises that this conversation isn't over yet.

You spin away from him and don’t give him a second glance as you head over towards the thirsty man whose beer is going on his tab, but there’s a sway in your hips that wasn’t there before.

And Bradley thinks to himself, this is going to be fun.

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nemo-writes · 7 hours ago

Text

𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖿 141 + 𝗏𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗌 ; 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ── .✦

── .✦ 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗉 ; "𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇."

It’s day three of bed rest, and Soap’s already climbed up the walls of his room and back down again. Injured or not, he’s never been one to sit still, and being restricted to the base with “no hard jobs, no missions”—as the medic had stressed—has left him itching for something to do. Restless, he decides to wander, eventually finding himself at the library-slash-records room, a quiet corner of base he’s never thought to visit before.

He thumbs through a book on the nearest shelf, flipping pages more out of boredom than actual interest, when a voice behind him makes him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Good choice,” you say casually, glancing over his shoulder at the book in his hands. “I read that one when I was a teenager.”

Soap whips around, wide-eyed and ready to defend himself before he registers you standing there, a bemused smile on your face. It’s not often anyone manages to sneak up on him, especially after working alongside Ghost—but here you are, quiet as a shadow.

“Christ, you gave me a fright!” He laughs, trying to shake off his surprise. “You a ghost yourself, or just a natural sneak?”

“Neither,” you reply with a shrug. “I just work here. Records department.”

He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head with a hint of scepticism. “Records, aye? Right, sure. So… what squad d’you belong to, then?”

You laugh, not seeming to mind his incredulity. “No squad. No task force, either. Just a regular base staff member. I make sure all your physical files stay organised, is all.”

“Well, I didn't expect to find a hidden gem like you in here,” he says, putting on his usual flirty grin, expecting some kind of blush or maybe even a shy look.

But you just give another amused smile. “I’m not a gem, just the records keeper. I also stock the books,” you add, gesturing around. “Figured a small library might be good for those interested. We don’t have much, but it’s a nice change of pace for some people.”

The flirting sails right over your head, and Soap’s grin falters ever so slightly before he recovers. “Ah, so you're the one to thank for this wee slice of quiet paradise on base, huh?”

You nod, a touch of pride slipping through as you straighten a few already-tidy books. “It’s simple, but I like to keep things in order here for whoever wants to pick up something to read.”

Soap tries another grin, leaning against a shelf, his tone softening just a bit. “Well, reckon I’ll be a regular if it means more chats like this. Seems like a fair deal, yeah?”

But you only hum thoughtfully, eyes scanning the shelf beside him, clearly cataloguing if anything’s out of place. Soap finds himself smirking, both amused and oddly challenged by how thoroughly you’ve ignored his attempts to charm you. He realises with a quiet laugh that this just might be the break he needed.

. . .

In the quiet of his quarters, Soap lounges on his bunk with the phone pressed to his ear, listening to his mum and sister talk about his childhood. It had started with the usual check-in—hearing how he was healing, how things were on base—and soon drifted into familiar family banter.

His sister, Cait, laughs as she recalls his ‘miraculous’ ability to get hurt every other day growing up. “Remember when you broke both your arms jumping off that shed roof, John?” she teases, barely stifling her laughter. “Mum had to practically wrap you in bubble wrap.”

“Aye, aye, laugh it up,” Soap mutters, though he’s grinning. “Was tryin’ to perfect my landing, is all.”

His mum’s voice chimes in with a fond chuckle, “Perfect it you did, son. Broke both arms and had us all in stitches—not just ‘cause of the casts, but because you couldn’t stop fidgeting.”

“Oh, I remember,” he groans, recalling the itch of the casts and the boredom of sitting still for weeks. “I was goin’ mad with nothing to do!”

“That’s why I read to you,” his mum adds, the warmth in her voice audible even over the line. “You were always restless, even with two arms in casts.”

Soap’s grin turns a bit softer. “I remember that… just not the book itself. Somethin’ about a fox and a forest?”

His mum hums thoughtfully. “It was a sweet story, but I can’t recall the title. Do you, Cait?”

Cait only chuckles, clearly drawing a blank. “Oh, I remember the fuss he made, but the book? Not a chance.”

Soap shakes his head, feeling a little pang of nostalgia. “Wouldn’t mind findin’ it again someday. Reminds me of home.”

A few days later, Soap strides through the hallway, his arm still snug in a sling but his energy undeterred. He greets everyone he passes, effortlessly drawing smiles and laughter from a few soldiers standing by the vending machines. A corporal waves, and Soap flashes him a quick grin, offering a joking salute with his free hand.

But today, he’s not here to soak up the attention. His steps have purpose, carrying him straight back to the quiet sanctuary of the records room. When he steps inside, the calm hits him like a breath of fresh air. His eyes land on you instantly, tucked in the back of the room, your head bent over something on the desk.

You’re focused, scribbling notes or reading from a thick stack of papers, and for a moment, Soap just watches. There’s something about the way the light catches on your face, the peaceful concentration you exude. He doesn’t even realise he’s smiling until his cheeks ache slightly. He adjusts his posture and clears his throat, strolling over casually, pretending not to notice the way his pulse picks up just a bit.

“Hey, there,” he says, his voice breaking the quiet like a soft ripple on a still pond. You glance up, blinking at the interruption, and he swears there’s a flicker of recognition in your gaze that makes his chest tighten.

“Back again?” you tease lightly, setting your pen down. “Getting into trouble already?”

“Nah, just takin’ it easy,” he says, his tone breezy. “Needed a break from bein’ so popular, y’know? The fans are relentless.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, though there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

He shifts slightly, leaning his good arm against the edge of the desk. “Actually, I was hopin’ you might be able to help me with somethin’. Feels a bit daft, but here goes.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the weight of how silly this might sound. “There’s this book. From when I was a kid. My Ma read it to me when I broke both arms once—don’t ask,” he adds quickly, grinning sheepishly. “But I can’t remember the title. Just bits of it.”

That piques your interest. You sit up a little straighter, curiosity lighting up your features. “What do you remember about it?” you ask, your tone genuinely warm.

Soap exhales, relieved you haven’t laughed him off, and starts piecing it together. “Right, so it was about this fox. A scrappy wee thing, always gettin’ into trouble. Lived in a forest, sneakin’ around like it owned the place. There was… a badger, I think? Big, grumpy fella, always tellin’ the fox to stop bein’ reckless. But the fox didn’t listen—bit of a troublemaker, that one.”

You nod, your attention fixed on him, and it spurs him on. “One part I remember clear as day—there was a trap. The fox got its paw caught, and I thought it was done for. Had my heart in my throat. My Ma kept tellin’ me it’d be fine, but I was sweatin’ over it.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as if to brush off the emotion. “Then there was somethin’ about the forest gettin’ destroyed, so the fox had to leave. Find a new home, y’know?”

You lean forward slightly, completely drawn in, and it makes his pulse quicken. “That sounds… really sweet, actually. And a little sad.”

“Aye, it was,” he says, his voice softer now. “Hit me like a brick back then. Think I might’ve cried—don’t tell anyone that,” he adds quickly, wagging a finger with mock severity.

Your smile widens. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But… you’re describing it so vividly. I might know it. Hang on.” You tap your chin thoughtfully, sorting through your mental catalog of titles. Soap watches you closely, his expression softening as you mentally sift through the possibilities. After a moment, you shake your head, regret flashing in your eyes. “I think I know the book, but I don’t have it here. Sorry.”

Soap raises his brows, clearly impressed. “You’ve got a memory like a steel trap, lass. How d’you even keep track of all that?”

You wave him off modestly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “It’s nothing, really. I just like books. Spend enough time with them, and you start remembering the little details.”

“Still,” you say, your tone tinged with determination. “I’ll keep an eye out. If it crosses my path, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

Soap’s grin widens, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes it hard to look away. “Aye, I’ll hold you to that.” His voice softens, and for a moment, there’s a quiet warmth between you that neither of you rush to fill.

“Thanks,” he says finally, the sincerity in his tone catching you slightly off guard. “You’re good company, y’know that?”

Before you can reply, he pushes off the desk with his good arm, the playful edge returning to his expression as he gives you a wink. “Don’t let me distract you too much, aye? I’ll see myself out.”

You manage a small laugh, watching as he makes his way toward the door, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in his wake. But just as he steps into the hallway, he pauses, glancing back through the open door.

For a brief second, his gaze softens, the memory of the fox, his Ma’s soothing voice, and the quiet comfort of your little nook weaving together to warm a part of him he hadn’t realised needed it. With a nod to himself, he turns away, the thought of returning already forming in the back of his mind.

. . .

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual hum of conversation and clatter of trays. Soap, now out of his sling and feeling like himself again, sat among Gaz, Ghost, and a few others from the base, his laughter loud and infectious as they swapped stories and teased one another. His attention was fully on Gaz’s exaggerated recounting of a drill mishap when Ghost’s gravelly voice cut through the din.

“Oi, Johnny. Little mouse headed this way.”

Soap blinked, confused, until Ghost gave a subtle nod toward the figure approaching from behind. Soap twisted around, and his breath hitched the moment he spotted you.

Springing to his feet far too quickly, Soap’s knee hit the table with a loud clang, trays rattling dangerously. The others shouted half-hearted complaints, but Soap didn’t care. All his attention was on you, standing there with a paper bag in hand, a shy smile gracing your lips.

“I—uh—hi,” Soap stammered, suddenly unsure of himself as you held the bag out toward him.

“I found it,” you said simply, your tone giddy. “Thought you might like to have it.”

He stared at the bag, then at you, before carefully taking it from your hands. His fingers brushed yours briefly, and he swore he felt a spark. Peeking inside, his jaw dropped. There it was—the book. The cover was pristine, like it had just been pulled from a bookstore shelf.

“You didn’t…” he began, but words failed him. His gaze flicked between the book and your face, awe written plainly across his features.

You chuckled softly, patting the hand that held the book. “It’s no big deal. Enjoy it, yeah?”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Soap frozen in place. He watched you go, only snapping out of his trance when Gaz whistled low under his breath. Soap turned back to the table, clutching the bag as if it held a treasure.

Seated back at the table, the book resting carefully in his lap, he barely touched his food, his usual chatter replaced by a soft, distracted smile. He flipped the book over in his hands, running his thumb along the edges of the paper bag, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Someone’s got a fan,” Gaz teased, grinning.

“Shut it,” Soap muttered, his cheeks flushing.

But the teasing didn’t stop there. One of the younger men at the table, a mechanic who had joined the base recently, leaned forward, asking him about you with a smirk edged with something he didn’t like, at all.

Soap’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching. Ghost, always the observer, grumbled lowly. “Leave it, lad,” he warned, his voice a quiet rumble. The mechanic wisely dropped the subject.

As the conversation shifted back to base gossip, Soap’s focus stayed on the book in his hands. He traced the edges of the paper bag absentmindedly, his mind replaying the moment you’d handed it to him and the warmth of your hand on his. His smile widened, soft and genuine, as he looked the book over again, the edges of the paper bag crinkling beneath his fingers.

Ghost glanced at Soap briefly, noting the faraway look in his eyes. With a barely audible snort, he shook his head and returned to his meal, leaving the smitten Scotsman to his thoughts.

. . .

Soap spent the better part of the next day scouring every corner of the base, peeking into offices, workshops, and even the records room during normal hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Each empty space only added to his frustration.

“Sneaky little mouse," he muttered under his breath with an undeniable smile, hands on his hips.

His gripping earned a chuckle from Gaz, who leaned back in his chair and exchanged a knowing look with Ghost. “Maybe you’re just not lookin’ in the right places, mate,” Gaz teased, popping a peanut into his mouth.

Ghost, however, offered a rare bit of practical advice. ��Try the rec room. Late hours.” His tone was low, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sometimes I go there when I can’t sleep. Tea’s decent, and I watch matches on my phone. Could be she’s got the same idea.”

Soap perked up at the suggestion, nodding gratefully. “Aye, worth a shot. Thanks, mate!"

Later that evening, Soap made his way to the rec room. The base was quieter, the halls dimly lit, and the faint hum of a vending machine filled the otherwise empty space. As he approached the rec room, the soft clink of a kettle caught his attention. Peering in, he spotted you by the small kitchenette, the warm glow of the stove’s light illuminating your face as you poured hot water into a mug.

For a moment, he hesitated. His usual bravado faltered as he took in the calm scene, unsure how to approach without disturbing the peaceful air you carried with you. But then, squaring his shoulders, he stepped inside.

“Didn’t think I’d find you 'ere,” he said, his voice low but carrying a playful lilt.

You glanced over your shoulder, surprised but smiling softly when you saw him. “Evening, Sergeant. Tea, late-night stroll, or both?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Both, maybe. Been lookin’ for you, actually. You’ve got a knack for disappearin’, y’know.”

You turned back to the stove, shaking your head lightly as you reached for another mug. “You found me now, didn’t you? Want some tea?”

“Aye, thanks.” Soap approached, watching as you handed him the steaming mug. He cradled it, savoring the warmth in his hands. “Listen, about the book…”

You waved him off, cutting him off before he could continue. “It’s nothing, really. I should be the one thanking you. You’ve shown interest in the books and my little corner. It means a lot to have someone notice.”

Soap blinked, caught off guard by your words. Before you could turn back around to retrieve your own mug, he reached out, catching your hand. His fingers curled around yours gently, his thumb brushing the back of your knuckles.

The contact was warm, steady, and startlingly tender.

“No,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “It wasn’t nothin’. You went out of your way for me, and… it means more than I can say.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat when he lifted your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. His lips were warm, his expression earnest as he looked up at you, gratitude and something deeper shining in his eyes.

For once, you were the one left speechless, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of his sincerity settled over you. Soap released your hand gently, his fingers lingering for just a moment before pulling back.

“Thank you,” he said again, his voice a near whisper.

You swallowed, your cheeks feeling uncharacteristically warm. “You’re welcome, Sergeant,” you managed, offering him a soft smile.

“Stay a while?” he asked, nodding toward the small table tucked into the corner.

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could overthink it, you nodded, moving to sit down. He followed, his mug cradled in his hands as he eased into the chair across from you. The quiet hum of the room settled over you both, broken only by the soft clink of his mug against the table as he set it down.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it felt warm, almost fragile, like something new and precious was taking root between you.

“You’ve got a knack for this,” he said, his tone low and easy.

“For what?” you asked, taking a sip of your tea.

“Doin’ things that catch a man off guard,” he replied, his blue eyes glinting with something playful yet sincere. “Like huntin’ down a book I barely remembered just to give me a piece of my past back.”

You waved him off modestly, though the compliment made your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. "It's...just a book."

“To you, maybe,” he countered, his voice soft. “To me, it’s somethin’ more. And so’s this.”

He gestured vaguely, encompassing the quiet space you now shared, the table between you feeling more like a bridge than a barrier.

You lowered your gaze to your mug, the steam curling upward as you processed his words. There was a warmth in his voice, an openness you hadn’t expected but found yourself leaning into.

When you finally looked up, Soap was watching you, his gaze steady and filled with something unspoken. You held his eyes, the corners of your lips curving into a smile that matched his.

“This is nice,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“Aye,” he agreed, his voice low. “It is.”

And as the two of you sat there, sipping tea and sharing quiet smiles, the space between you seemed to shrink, the glow of the moment wrapping around you both like a promise of something more to come.

banner credit

#cod #cod fanfic #cod fanfiction #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you

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vaguely-concerned · 2 days ago

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To the ‘themes I am picking up on in Veilguard’ list, let's go ahead and add what I have a sneaking suspicion will actually turn out to be The theme:

— the world has changed and can never be as it was again.

— I have been changed and can never be who I was again.

— in this simple unavoidable truth there is endless grief and endless hope.

And I… may be getting a bit emotional about it haha. Let me show my work a bit:

if da:o is a game about people who are already dead or half ghosts in some form (through societal forces, psychologically, functionally, literally, in body, through the joining etc.) coming together anyway to save the world from being swallowed by total nihilism and despair (symbolized by the blight) through the power of love and friendship and also this sword/potential heroic sacrifice that I found, da2 is a game about people who have lost their homes and been set adrift finding and building new homes in each other (while completely failing to save the world. also through the power of love and friendship. as well as years of petty bickering <3 we must imagine kirkwall if not happy then worth having been because the love was there the love was there and that's the only sanctifying force we can ever have in this doomed world and city of ours), and da:i is a game about old stabilizing-but-unjust comfortable lies vs. disruptive but potentially liberating uncomfortable truths, and the power of friendship to help us distinguish the one from the other and navigate through them...

folks… I'm starting to think that veilguard might be a game specifically about moving towards recovery and acceptance after trauma — about how even in this flawed, severed, scarred state, what is here right now is worth loving and worth caring for. even in an imperfect and impermanent world and self, there is worth and joy. and of course the first real tragedy — and threat — of Solas is that he just cannot find it in himself to accept this and move on, to let go of what was, the regret won’t let him go or he won’t let go of it. which means that even though on the surface it’s Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (and the will to subjugate and violate they represent) who are the main villains, the real antagonistic force in this story beneath that is the Dread Wolf’s despair. A despair Rook must make an answer to by the end of the game, one way or another, compassionately or with righteous fury, triumphant or pyrrhic.

The world will change again and again and so will you — BUT the crucial element is that so will everyone else who exists along with you, you are fundamentally not alone in this existential truth. all we’ll ever have is each other and my god that is plenty, my god that is enough!!! Which is the second thing Solas just can’t accept, he keeps himself separate and completely alone out of an awful mix of fear and pride and feeling himself unworthy of anything else. Rook and the player want to save the world of Thedas because it’s where everyone we love lives, Solas wants to go back to the past because that’s the only neighbourhood where he can still visit those he loved — and the person he himself was, before. A very sympathetic and human instinct/trap to fall into when touched by trauma, I think, if only it wasn’t backed by godlike power, a fundamentally oppositional personality, and a catastrophic lack of therapy to make it literally everyone else’s problem too lol. It’s varric and solas’ banter about the man on the island and where meaning in a life comes from all over again, writ large and with detail work — and the added idea of ‘what if there are also other islands out there, though. With other people on them that you could find if you reach for each other’. Rook with the best of intentions has to make choices to which there are no perfect outcomes and live with what happens — and not cut themselves off from everyone else around them even when there is regret or shame. You get back up every day and you make a life with other people doing the same and you do your best, and that’s the only victory this world will give you. In the end, that is more than enough, that is essential. And I um. I love that. So much. It’s why some of the writing clumsiness on top can’t hurt me because this thematic spine is so solid and so beautiful to me. It’s DA2 all over again that way for me personally — I forgive this story for what it isn’t and couldn’t be, and I love it with my whole stupid open heart for what it actually is. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk and goodbye etc.

(For my fellow TLT heads out there — you know what this story is reminding me of most of all, actually? It has some big Nona the Ninth vibes down there in the deep. It’s about… the horror and unspeakable beauty that can only be found in liminality, and the role of love in making that basic fact of existence bearable. And also even more unbearable at the same time. I'm so sorry.)

#I told you all I was going to be extremely myself about this. I suppose we all hoped I was joking. even while knowing I was not #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age meta #solas #varric tethras #anyway. at the end of the day and despite everything varric won the 'I told you so chuckles' rights over solas in this philosophical debate #and isn't that enough in a way. I think so. the world and the story of the world is his legacy. people get to keep telling it #I want to say so much about how each of the companions play into the different aspects of this theme but I should uh #probably finish the game properly first haha #guys I literally opened my eyes this morning and wrote out most of this before even getting up. the pressure cooker brain is back #the lone brain cell in here boileth over with dragon age feels & thoughts #very little sends me deranged quite like this series I'm afraid. I'm just still so relieved that even if this story isn't for everyone.#it is for me. thank god. I needed it

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covenha · 3 days ago

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Woo's Brews

Synopsis: Seonghwa, Wooyoung's black cat familiar, decides to help him out with his dry spell. Pairings: witch!Wooyoung x reader; familiar!Seonghwa genre: crack, fluff?? i guess it's a smidge bit suggestive but i think it's completely innocent, witch warnings: talks of sex but nothing too suggestive, oc's land is cursed for the plot WC: 762 words a/n: sorry i just fell off the face of the earth, midterms is kicking my ass and my body decided to get sick if that was not enough. again, this work is fictional so this does not portray any of the characters in actual life. another small HIMYM reference in there iykyk. hope you guys enjoy this baby drabble. and as always, reblogs and feedback is deeply appreciated. happy reading!

As the small pot at the back of the shop was boiling away, Wooyoung was dusting some shelves at the front. Just then, a ring of a bell signals a customer walking into the shop.

“Hello?” You walk in, black cat in hand. It’s sharp eyes looking around the shop, looking around for its owner.

“Hi! What brings you to Woo’s Brews?” Wooyoung asks with a smile.

“Oh, well, your cat was playing in my garden and it was getting late so I thought to bring him here to make sure he was safe.” You smile back. The cat in question hops down from your hands, tail swishing from side to side. It stares back at its owner, as if waiting for its owner to do something.

“Sorry you had to bother with Seonghwa. He usually doesn’t go around making pretty girls return him home. But thanks for making sure he got home safe…”

“y/n” you say your name.

“Thank you, y/n.” Wooyoung says.

“Well, since I’m here. I heard this place had something that could help me with my garden?” You ask.

“Oh yeah, sure. We have some charms and some potions here that could help. What did you have in mind?” Wooyoung motions to the cabinet to his right and guides the both of you over to it. But, not before giving Seonghwa a look.

“There’s this area in my garden that just refuses to grow anything! It’s like somebody put some sort of hex on it. It’s so odd.” You explain your gardening predicament to Wooyung, but he can barely focus on your troubles. Not when you have the cutest look in your eyes when you recall the horrific scene of your dead tomatoes, or your wilted daisies.

“Well, this may just do the trick. Sprinkle some of this liquid on the ground in 3 circles. Then wait for the next full moon before planting something in the area. If that doesn’t work though, you know where to find me.” Wooyoung winks at you.

A soft meow is heard behind the both of you. Wooyoung scoffs at this, and you look back to see Seonghwa perched on the counter, grooming himself.

“Thanks for this!” you motion to the brown paper bag filled with the goodies you bought that would hopefully help you in your cottage core dreams.

“Just doing my duties as the friendly neighborhood witch.” Wooyoung waves goodbye as you walk out the shop’s store.

He watches as you walk away from his store, and winces and facepalms just as you are out of sight.

“Friendly neighborhood witch?” Seonghwa repeats, now in his human form. He looks unimpressed, raising an eyebrow at Wooyoung.

“I panicked, okay? Hwa, you know how I get.” Wooyoung winces as he thinks back at what he said to you.

“She seems to like you though. Don’t screw it up this time.” Seonghwa says, sharp eyes staring at Wooyoung.

“Dude, you really need to put yourself out there! It’s been ages since you’ve even been on a date.” Yunho, one of Wooyoung’s witch friends who was visiting to stock up on some lizard’s tail from the shop.

“I guess you could say he’s in a… dry spell.” Jongho, Yunho’s golden shepherd retriever familiar pipes in.

“Ha Ha. I’m glad my misery is entertaining to you, Jjong.” Wooyoung deadpans at him.

“8 months, 2 weeks.” Seonghwa suddenly cuts the banter.

“Hwa?” Yunho asks him.

“8 months, and 2 weeks. That’s how long Jongho has been…. How do I say this in a classy way…. Gotten laid.” Seonghwa blinks at the three of their confused faces. Jongho’s face goes red as he sputters out an excuse.

“Okay, let’s not get into the nitty gritty with this one.” Yunho tries to calm the situation.

“5 months 3 days.” Seonghwa motions at Yunho who scrunches his eyebrows together in horror, but also a little bit of amazement.

“You should work at a carnival.” Jongho says.

As they calm down from their conversation, Yunho and Jongho pack up to head back to their cottage to make it before dark. All the while Wooyoung is nervously looking around, trying not to make eye contact with Seonghwa.

“10 months, 1 week.” Seonghwa says.

“Dammit.” Wooyoung sighs.

“I can help you. Just leave it to me.” Seonghwa shrugs at him.

“Seonghwa, I don’t know if I like the idea of that.” Wooyoung shakes his head at the black cat.

“Trust me. You’re gonna like this one.” Seonghwa smirks to himself.

“Jesus, you’re like some kind of occult Tinder.” Wooyoung shudders as he goes back to tend to his brewing potion.

#ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez hours #ateez au #ateez drabbles #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung au #wooyoung au #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung blurbs #wooyoung hours

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phantomsies · 23 hours ago

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𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 | 𝖆. 𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

spending the evening with a man who could have any girl he wants but he proves why it’s always been you…

producer/nepobaby armin, musician au, black fem reader, dancer!reader (reader is in Pole Assassins), soft sex, back scratching, lots of intimacy, slow kissing, oral sex (f. receiving) body worship, banter between armin and reader, missionary, creampie, slow build/burn (?)

I’ve been suffering from a severe case of armin brain rot lately and I’ve been missing the musician au even more!! this is a reupload from my patreon so if you read this, no you didn’t! 🫶🏾

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He’d traveled the world once over…experienced a lifetime full of adventures at only a mere two decades into his life. From sailing on yachts as a child, exploring the ocean in between piano lessons and algebra courses…to making music with his friends that would touch the lives of people in every nation and becoming a household name in the process. However, Armin Artlert’s notoriety had transcended that of just playlists and edits by adoring fans. He harbored a reputation that had come to precede him throughout his duration as an artist and internet sensation. The infamous ArminHammer was notorious for two things: iconic instrumentals and his expansive roster of women. Every girl of every variety was at his disposable..models, strippers, actresses, singers, the single mom who happened to attend one of their shows and needed a good time. He wasn’t picky nor did he allow preference to stand in the way of fulfilling his carnal desires. Make no mistake, he didn’t dog his women out or harm them..hell, if anything, he made every girl he encountered feel like a princess. Spoiling them with gifts, expensive dinners and of course, the best sex you’d ever experience! To put it even more bluntly, the man fucked like a professional..he was skilled in many areas and the bedroom happened to be the top.

But perhaps, that was the issue…he was the ideal man in every essence of the word. He’d make any lady feel as if she’d met her prince charming!..

….so how could you ever believe him when he said that you were the one he’d been searching for this entire time?

How could you possibly think that you’d be the sole object of his affection when it seemed those regards could be said of any women who’d crossed his path? Honestly, there was no definite answer to convince you otherwise. Armin was aware that you’d always kept your ear to the streets and had been informed about how he operated. That was all but confirmed when your teammate and friend began dating his childhood homie. Another infamous artist by the name of EJ the Don. Much like the woman who had founded the very group you were a part of, the Pole Assassins, EJ was seen as the proverbial leader of his own collective, Dead Boys Society and although they both despised the labels, you still respected her as such.

you could also sense that Armin held the same regard for his best friend and fellow artist. He looked up to Eren and admired how focused, driven and goal oriented he was in his craft. Most importantly though, he admired the way he loved..

EJ was never known to be a romantic nor was he known to be entrenched in the dating scene, but once he began dating your team mate, he had transitioned into an entirely different man. One that was attentive, doting and even a little jealous. He was openly affectionate with her and never thought twice about it. Gushing about her in interviews, where prior, he would’ve never even mentioned a woman besides his mom. It was that complete switch that had activated something within Armin as well. What he had been seeking in multiple girls could only be found in one place and that was with (y/n) (l/n). He’d spent all this time around you and had found himself falling deeper for you than he had anyone else. Your laugh, your energy, your spirit and kind heart had all enraptured the heart of the notorious playboy. And you couldn’t fool yourself either..you’d become smitten with him just the same…however, you were guarded. You weren’t so far deluded in the fantasy of being with him that you’d soon forgotten his reputation! You weren’t perfect by a long shot either..God knows, you’d partaken in your fair share of hookups and dated a couple of athletes just to say you did. Even so, you felt a hint of insecurity. How could you ever satisfy his cravings when he’d sampled the whole platter?! That was a question you’d soon find the answer to when you decided to spend a weekend at his home. A lofty, luxurious penthouse that overlooked the city and beaches of the sunny Miami, Florida.

it was a beautiful place and one of the many pieces of real estate owned by the Artlert conglomerate. One thing you’d come to learn about Armin was that music was nothing more than a beloved hobby. As much as he poured into his craft, his financial situation wouldn’t waver in the slightest if he were to stop today. He’d grown up with billionaires for family and that generational wealth had certainly trickled down. Regardless, it wasn’t his sole identity, hence why it’d never arise in conversation. It was blatantly obvious in his lifestyle choices but he was still that innocent, nerdy, wide eyed boy he’d always been to his core. The sensitive, kind, gentle Armin that only a select few witnessed. That was the side he wanted you to see here tonight..

so as you traipsed across the marble accented floors and art littered walls of his penthouse..all the way to his bedroom, you’d realize that you were where you belonged.

“You coming to lie down, beautiful? You’ve been in there forever.”

“Just a few more minutes, I promise! I wanna make sure I’m looking right.”

honestly, he didn’t understand all of the trouble. He’d seen you fully nude and completely clothed..you were beautiful no matter the form. Hell, you could come out in a plastic bag and pair of Timberlands and he’d still be hungry for you! He loved you dearly and nothing could dare to change that fact now! But after you two had retreated to his bedroom after an evening out on the town and he’d longed since undressed, you insisted on going to the bathroom and freshening up with a shower before retreating to bed. However, there was one more

“Well hurry up, please. I miss you..” stating in a whiny tone as he flailed himself against the mattress. Arms stretched out atop the pillow as his shirtless top half grazed the sheets. His designer boxers rubbed viciously with the silk bed linen, causing a bit of friction. Outside of the glass window pane, fell heavy droplets of pouring rain to set the already sensual mood. Electronic candles flickered in the corner and soft melodies of R&B played from the mounted television. It was certainly a vibe that you could become accustomed to. Across from where he lay, sat a half empty bottle of Modavi and two glasses that had been previously filled with the liquid. You were both feeling a bit tipsy from the substances coursing your veins so it was apparent what the mood was for the evening. He couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer and fortunately for him, you didn’t keep him held up. Because it was as he was getting ready to lie back down, he’d hear the faint tapping of footsteps against the tile and be greeted with a sight that would soothe his soul and sore eyes alike…

“Well I’m sorry to keep you waiting ..” flashing him a cheeky smile in regards to his earlier comment. Instantly, his jaw fell slack and his top half arose from the bed to examine you over.

“Oh my—you look—…. damn, I can’t even talk. You got me speechless, girl.”

sending you into a fit of giggles as you showed off your ensemble for him. A sheer white, lace two piece with garters that wrapped your thick thighs, a thong that was swallowed up by those round cheeks and a bra that accentuated your voluptuous breasts..causing them to sit upright. You were glistening with oil, and that luscious brown skin shimmered in the candlelight. Those forty inches of black curls were styled into an updo atop your head, along with that diamond necklace he had procured for you a few weeks ago. Even this was a first for Armin..he’d spent his fair share of evenings with the ladies but it always involved moments of rushed disrobing and him trying to get in their pants as quickly as possible. He didn’t waste time with lingerie or fancy frills because the goal was to grant her the best sex possible. Of course, he obtained gratification from this as well..but sometimes, he craved more. More than just the act of sex itself…it was intimacy he desired. The subtle touches and little gestures that helped to curate that special moment..he wanted to take his time and give you an experience that you’d soon yet forget.

“..then I guess it was worth the trouble..” his reaction elicited a light chuckle as you veered over to the bed, crawling onto the mattress and into the embrace of your precious lover. It was warm, inviting almost…strangely enough, an unwavering sense of safety crept over you as well. All of those previous thoughts of insecurity and jealousy seemed to dissipate once his hands coiled your body. He’d pull you in a little closer, squeeze you a little tighter and when his lips finally clashed with your own, every worry that had plagued either of your worlds were mere afterthoughts.

“God, you’re so beautiful..I swear you wear the hell out of everything you put on..”

“You’re too charming for your own good, you know that? It’s gon’ get you in trouble one day.”

“I like the sound of that.”

the tender and humorous moment was shared underneath the flickering candlelight as your flesh melded into one. Sitting upright in a cross legged position, your calves coiled his lower back and your arms cradled the back of his neck. Meanwhile, his hands resided around your waist and maintained a firm grip. He could hear your sentiment but even he grew skeptical at times. He often worried would his past elude him and ruin any potential future he could procure with you. All of his other prospects were nothing more than fleeting memories now. Even for someone as confident and skilled as Armin was, he experienced any other emotion just the same..maybe even more. Regardless, you’d continue to quell his anxiety and ease any doubt in his mind that you were leaving anytime soon. With those soft touches and gentle kisses, slowly but surely, you’d melt away all that rattled his mind. Eventually, your tongues would find home within one another’s mouths, initiating a series of sloppy pecks in process. It was then that you’d also begin to feel the thin straps of that top gliding down your shoulder blade. He just wanted to make you feel the best you had in a long time and he’d take as long as he needed to fulfill that obligation. He owed it to you for all of the insurmountable love you’d given him.

“Armin…baby..”

a faint whisper escaped your now freed lips as he latched onto your neck following the broken kiss. He’d gently suckle on that deep colored flesh and leave a trail of pecks along your jugular vein, even along your earlobe…it was there that he’d merely nip at the skin and whisper into it. Which sent a barrage of tingles all over your body.

“Yes, sweetheart? Something on your mind?”

“Ahh—“ “..words, baby. Let me hear that shit.”

that lilt in his tone, a clear indicator that he was going to relentlessly tease you from here on out. You always became so anxious when he did but the buildup made the actual moments all the more worth it. “You can tell me anything you want, pretty girl. This is all for you..your space. Whatever you say…I’ll do it.” His words serve to entice you further, which took little to no effort at all. You were already sucked in with no chance of being free of his clutches anytime soon. As for your requests, it was easy.

“Just…make me feel good, please..make love to me..”

it was a definite statement; one he understood loud and clear. Now wasn’t the time to be prideful or allow his ego to cloud his perception. Rather than showing off, Armin wanted to fully submit himself to you and to the cause of giving you whatever your heart…and body desired. With that, you’d find yourself shrouded in another round of kisses, this time along your shoulder blades and eventually to those soft breasts. Gently kneading them between his fingertips, he’d circle the buds with his thumb and watch as they’d grow erect. “Mmmm..” “..that feels good, sweetheart?” Following his question with a whimpering nod as you examined his movements. He’d gently squeeze them together and massage them all over, just to make you feel more at ease. He always did love how supple and perky they were..how they sat so perfectly in your tops or dresses. He’d learned to view the female body as more than just a vessel of pleasure but instead, for the work of art it is. You were his divine masterpiece..his treasure and he wanted to appreciate every single square inch of your physique. Even the areas you didn’t exactly appreciate yourself…

“Good..I know how sensitive they are but that’s okay. I’ll be gentle.” Chuckling at your very visible reactions of having your nipples played with. It was your most erogenous area and he knew it’d only be a matter of time before you became even more aroused. That much was indicated by the way you ground your clothed slit into the mattress. (Y/N) eventually tossed your head back, rolling it onto your shoulders and emitting a sharp gasp. An expected reaction to all of the sensual friction and stimulation. None of which was lost on Armin. He’d shift a bit in his own positioning, attempting to conceal that obvious erect. This was a fine solely for your pleasure and needs. His urges could wait as far as he was concerned. He was determined to prove that he was fully and utterly devoted to you right now. The sounds of melodic love songs and pouring rain would continue to serve as the soundtrack to this precious moment. Right along with your sweet moans and his subtle grunts. You’d glance down to see the rising tent within his boxers as he began to lap all over your areolae and suckle on your brown buds. “Your tits are so perfect, angel. I love them so much..I love all of you. Every single part..” Constantly doting as he persisted..that’s when you’d reach down and grasp for that sheathed cock but he’d be equally as quick to stop you.

“Ignore it, okay? Right now is about you. I’m focused on making you feel good, just like I promised. You don’t need to do a thing.” This was what you appreciate about your man. He had such a calm, gentle demeanor. Something people would often mistake as sensitive or meek. But in the same vein, he could harness that into a dominant, masculine energy that required no assertiveness. You felt safe..secure within that space. You felt comfortable submitting yourself fully to him.

“It’s like you're everything I’ve ever prayed for..I’m so lucky.” Akin to that of a groom bedding his bride on the night of their wedding, Armin would lie his precious girl flat against the mattress and begin his descent down your body. Examining each line, touching each bump and worshiping every curve as if they were a gift from the heavens above. They certainly weren’t things that he took for granted. Especially when he finally made home with that divine center…spreading open your trembling thighs; courtesy of the gentle kisses and drawn out licksthat had been peppered all over your belly. “Mmmm…I love when you touch me like this. You always know what to do..” placing his thumbs along your pantyline, he’d rub your hips before placing two fingertips along the seat of your bottoms. “Of course, I told you…I’ll do whatever you want. All you gotta do is say it.” Naturally, the entire area was soaked and only accruing more stickiness the more he stroked your clothed bud. In an attempt to increase the friction and pleasure riddling your body, Armin would hone in on the clit and massage it until he felt you shaking in his grasp.

“Oh my God..” “Rub your nipples for me, sweetheart. I wanna see you get there so bad but I don’t want to rush..not right now.” Finally, he’d cease his teasing and peel back that thin layer of fabric, revealing your plump mound and lips, along with that swollen clit. You were practically throbbing and the second he grazed your skin, you’d instinctively contract. Those juices were already leaking before he could even think to touch or lap at the area. Meanwhile, you’d pinch and pull at the now stiffened buds on your chest, writhing in the sheets as you chewed at your lip. “You’re so cute when you make that face.” Chuckling whilst teasing the hard little pearl that had caused your entire body to heat up. “Aw, you just want that nut, don’t you, baby?” “Fuck—uh, yes..please.” Immediately shuttering at the idea of ruining such a sensual moment with profanity. However, Armin didn’t mind at all. In fact, it further encouraged him to get you there. “I know you do…I wanna give it to you so bad too..”

Normally, this was an opportunity he’d utilize to tease you relentlessly. Holding out on providing you with your orgasm, making you wait before he even made the slightest of movements…all of it in an attempt to get you riled up. Right there on the edge until you finally broke, all but pleading with him to give you what you wanted. But tonight?

“Ahh!—haaaa..yes..” “Uh, fuck…lemme taste you…please lemme eat this puss—“ his words trailing off into mere whiny drabble as his lips made home on your lower ones. Immediately, those pretty blue eyes of his were fixated on you as he delved into your center. The sounds of slurping and whimpering emitting from his mouth and only growing louder. With your legs parted on each side, (y/n) grasped the top of Armin’s head; clawing at those shaggy blonde curls whilst grinding yourself against his face. “Arminnnn…oh my gosh…right there.” Those moans would draw out into a high pitched wail. One that caused your legs to tremble and nearly retract around his head. But alas, that just wasn’t possible. With one fell swoop and only a single hand, he’d pin your thighs back and continue devouring your cunt. As his opposite one was preoccupied with stroking his own shaft. It was something about your scent, flavor and your sex that got him all aroused. Nonetheless, Armin would resume his feast..flicking gently on your clit, sucking your plump lips and even shoving a digit into your tight hole. Only coming up for air to check in on you..

“Something on your mind, pretty girl? Talk to me..”

“N—need you…need you in me so bad…oh fuck..”

although the sentence was a bit incoherent, your desires were heard loud and clear. Although Armin loved the idea of relentlessly teasing you, he also wasn’t much in the way of restricting you from your happiness either. If that was what you wanted, he was elated to fulfill the request. In what seemed to almost be a slight of hand movement, he’d maneuver and rise from where he was laying and would scoop your legs up in the process. He’d position them straight in the air and pin them together. Eventually placing them over his shoulder. “You need me? You want it that bad, sweetheart?” Cooing and questioning with a rhetorical tone. Meanwhile, he was hovering above you, positioned on his knees whilst that cock head teased against your slit. He already knew the answer and as far as he was concerned, it was yours. But he needed to hear you say it. Not just for the consensual aspect, but because it was what he’d been waiting for all along. Hearing you beg, plead and whimper for him….this entire time, he’d been so used to your independent nature, that there was rarely an instance where you relied on him. You were so far capable of handling your own, that he or no other man were truly necessary in your daily way of life. But right here…in this moment, in this bedroom and this space the two of you had curated together..

“Y-yes, please!..I need you. I can’t take it..”

he was your everything. Your one and only sole object of affection. With your gazes fixated on one another, you’d nod your head and coo to one another, whimpering until suddenly—

“Yeah?” “Mmmm…please!”

you’d feel that stiffened, aching cock glide between your warm, silky folds and remained nestled there whilst he gathered his footing. Normally, he’d take an opportunity to perhaps gloat or be cocky. Fucking you with a giant grin on his face, making your pleasure a second priority. But alas, he’d never be so arrogant or foolish right now..because only moments later, his head had rolled back on his shoulders and as he remained nestled within you, he’d release a heavy gasp. He couldn’t maintain his eye contact when you felt this good. Your pussy resembled that of a warm blanket or hug..inviting him in and never wanting to pull away. However, he’d refrain from such lewd obscenities and fill your head with more loving compliments instead. As you’d lie there, awaiting his next move, you’d feel a hand planted into the center of your tummy and his hips beginning to buck forward..gently pounding into you.

“Oh God…yes..I love the way you feel, baby. You’re so warm.. ‘s so good..”

meanwhile, all he could do was howl it to the air because he knew that if he even took so much as even a glance in your direction, his load would be buried three inches into your womb right now. He was adamant of taking his time because all of his undivided and full attention; along with every second he could spare…belonged to you. He was all yours, hopelessly to a fault. He had released fear..anxiety or the shame that came with being madly in love.

“Ahhh…Armin..right there..please don’t stop..”

“I know, baby. I know…I can feel you squeezing me, that’s your spot, isn’t it?”

it was a given..not only had your body become riddled with ecstasy but he could tell by the way you pawed at his abs that he’d reached that core. Smacking sounds had arisen from the creamy mess he’d made of your lower half. Sucking his teeth, Armin finally garnered the strength to peer down at you and once he did, he nearly lost all control and restraint. His strokes would become a little faster and stretch your tight little cunt in the process. Your legs, that once made home on his shoulders, were now pinned back nearly behind your head. A position he was certain you had no issue maintaining. Even so, it didn’t stop your from crying out to him..heaving and whimpering. He was worried that perhaps, he hadn’t regulated his own strength. But rather than an expression of pain, you were smiling!..grinning from ear to ear with tears rolling down your face. It was a sign that you were in complete climatic bliss.

“Y-yes..you're in my spot, baby. And it feels so fucking good…nobody can make me feel like this..” eventually reaching down to stroke your sensitive bud to aid in the pleasure. That gave him all the confirmation he needed to persist, even when he felt he’d reach his breaking point sooner rather than later. Breaking into a smile of his own, Armin would resume his deep thrusts, this time with a bit more speed and rhythm. His hips would roll fluidly as he pushed in and out; dragging more of your juices and secretions along with him. He felt as if he could conquer the world when you said things like that. “That’s right, sweetheart..I know it’s a lot but I know you’re the only one who can handle it..who can take this dick like it’s nothing.”

those words cause you to twitch and grip him even tighter. In that moment, he nearly faltered but it was also in that instance that the two of you established full blown eye contact and mere seconds later, your lips had met in a passionate crash. Only after you exchanged doting words.

“..I love you. I love you so much, (y/n)..”

“I love you too, baby! Oh my gosh, please don’t stop.”

the bed had begun to jolt against the wall whilst his tattooed knuckles gripped the headboard. Eventually, he’d collapse fully into your grasp, relinquishing this idea of full control and allowing himself to be a part of the moment. No need to establish dominance or submission..who was the better lover or even what past partners had done. But instead, embracing each other and becoming one. One body, one soul and one heart. You’d wrap your arms and legs around his frame as he continued feeding you those strokes..his face buried into the crook of your neck and your hands clawing his inked up back.. You’d coo into his ear, listening to his whimpers and inform him that it was okay for him to let go. That he didn’t have to hold back so that he could appear as this strong guy with tons of stamina. You took it as a compliment that he could go for that long, honestly..it was a far cry from his past hookups, that was for certain!..but so much more was at stake here than merely who reached their orgasm first. It was about sharing in ecstasy and concealing your love with a special moment.

“You wanna come, angel? You can if you’re ready, no need to hold back..”

“Come with me, please..same time, okay?”

declaring so confidently as you heaved into one another’s ears. He’d agree and mere seconds later, that speed and pace had reached maximum heights and it felt as if he were hammering into you. “F-fuck!..” “Shit!..I’m coming, sweetheart!..coming for y—“ it was in that exact moment, that it felt as if the world was shattering for the both of you. That something inside of your bodies had essentially broken and neither of you could hold back. Both of your eyes shoot wide open before they shut and you’d embrace each other for comfort. Your juices had splattered all over his cock and his warm seed had completely coated the inside of your womb.. neither of you could even function at this point. Just reduced to mindless babble and tears. He’d finally rise from your neck and greet you with disheveled hair, a beet red face and a toothy grin. Along with those fallen tears.

“C’mere..I need a kiss..”

“Of course..”

your soft features and brown eyes met his and the two of you collided with one last declaration of adornment. Lips and tongues meeting in a fit of desperation. Desperation to never be apart again. For as long as you were both of this world, you’d spend every waking moment wanting to be together. And there wasn’t a single thing that could break that.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me..I just want us to be like this forever. I love you..” and you’d cling to every single word. Knowing that they rang true, now more than ever. Stroking his head as he lies on your chest. There were times that Armin figured that he’d never find his one and only..that he was destined to be a bachelor until he left this earth and he was adamant that one woman couldn’t possibly supplement for having his fill of multiple.

“And we can stay just like this…I’m not going anywhere.”

but it was nights like this..that reminded him that he was exactly where he needed to be!

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starberry-cupcake · 2 days ago

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I had time to read just one chapter but I wanted to make a recap anyway because the next chapter is like 360000 pages long (I may be exaggerating slightly) and I'm not sure if tomorrow I'll be able to update, so we're doing just gideon tonight (I have a feeling she'd love that wording)

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 48

gideon tells harrow that she should have probably killed off mercygirl but she wasn't "thinking straight"

when has she, though

she decided to keep going further into the emperor's infested bolthole

she finds a lot of corpses of bees that have been killed already

and thinks harrowcita would have appreciated how bad and nasty everything looked

then follows the corpses and the scent of despair and murder and finds yandere twin at the end of it, standing like a pulp fiction killer

gonna illustrate with a susan denberg movie poster I find appropriate

yandere twin gets emotional and goes "harry, you're—"

to which gideon answers with "Alive, bitch"

gideon says that she "had long since ascended to the rank of double douchbag" which I consider another memorable instance of chad catching strays

and gideon has some Issues to Resolve with yandere twin

and by resolve, I mean fix them with Violence

she starts getting upset at all the things yandere twin did to harrow, which include "faked to your fucking face like she couldn't see a corpse that was obviously there"

I SAID I THOUGHT SHE WAS GASLIGHTING HARROW

gideon is very determined to fix all of this diplomatically

by beating the crap out of her

they start a banter that will be an incredibly entertaining thing to witness for the next pages

I can't make it justice in a recap tbh

I was just basically like

gideon will, in a very persistent way, throughout the conversation, tell yandere twin that harrow will never love her

yandere twin wants to give gideon funny nicknames, like who would do that, that's so disrespectful, I can't even fathom doing that at all

not to gideon, anyway

yandere twin says that mercygirl disappeared, augustine dropped out and gideon the first is trying to handle the stuff on his own, kinda?

she's surprised by the fact that mercygirl tried to kill harrow

"why did you ascend to be a lyctor?" "ultimate power—and posters of my face" "Fair"

they find augustine being useless in a hallway and, when he sees gideon's eyes, he panics and bolts out of there

these lyctors are all a joke istg each and every one of them

except for, I think it was cassiopeia, who had the ceramics collection, she's fine

well no, I don't condone planet murder for ceramics, but she gets a bit more points than the rest for them

there's a lot of talk about buttholes between gideon and yandere twin and I'm not above that, since I've been making bolthole jokes this whole time

gideon is living for the nudes in yandere twin's room

nobody is surprised about that

but there's no time to think about the nudes or buttholes anymore when yandere twin pulls out a harrow letter for gideon

gideon is going through it even before opening it, as are we

she finds her glasses and a note that says

"one flesh, one end"

"Fuck one flesh, one end, harrow" "Because all I ever wanted you to do was eat me. Which is, coincidentally, what your mother said to me last night"

always so poetic, ortus can't even get close to this level

gideon keeps telling yandere twin that she has no chance with harrow

"I hated those eyes in her face; I kept expecting to smell hair gel."

chad catching strays at every turn, I live

gideon explains about harrow being in love with ice cube barbie

"I know the signs of Nonagesimitis"

and yandere twin goes "All that fuss about the Saint of Duty. What a little hypocrite"

which I guess is because of the whole gideon the first and not!dulcinea thing? but that's like totally different form whatever this is???

there are layers to the corpse and lyctor relationships, you guys

it's a very wide spectrum

gideon says that her connection to harrow has to do with her being her cav which...ok, gideon

"Nonagesimus, you hating me always meant more than anyone else in this hot and stupid universe loving me. At least I'd had your full attention"

gideon rn:

yandere twin isn't deterred by all of this information and thinks harrow and her have an eternity to bond because they're lyctors

as if they weren't doomed right now but ok girl, go for your dreams, I guess

gideon threatens yandere twin not to be nasty with harrow and to get away from her with her nasty necro ways

yandere twin goes "What can I say, I love a little gall on gall"

which absolutely wins gideon over for a sec

"Reverse everything I just told you. Let's get married"

I knew the horny puns would help them bond

it's the little things sometimes that bring us all together

yandere twin says chad used to say she would "go to hell and get fucked" and you know what, fuck that guy

this is why he's still catching strays on a regular basis 9 months later

yandere twin wants to take gideon to see dr reverend emperor john

gideon goes "No, thanks. I'm good"

that's what I would have said, I approve

but she has no choice, because harrowcita is still gone and whatever's going on is ??????

so, out she goes to follow yandere twin to see this asshat

who maybe will, at the very least, give us a little more info on gideon's demigod status

fingers crossed

hope he dies

And that's it for this update!!! It's a short one but we're moving forward!!!

#luly reacts to tlt #tlt spoilers #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #long post #gif cw

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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review by @zyafics

im currently writing rn and i love gigi's dialogues the most, so i'm back here to read and get inspired from her amazing words (long annotations below) ⬇️

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened.

pussy

Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age.

my poor baby who had to take care of herself for too long (love love this sentence)

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—

the butterflies i felt from reading this line

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.” "You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

i love their banters fr

“At least they’re not murder—”

one thing i love is how this fic is similar but deviates from the original canon plot and i love that you managed to capture the same essence!

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.“Helping you.”

when the bare minimum got me kicking my feet 🤭

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener.

this is such a standout line when i first read it cause i love how u captured the atmosphere of cheap motels (LOL)

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh.

CAUSE HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO OUT HER HAND 🫠

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the underlying edge of irritation. "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

the one BED TROPE YES

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear surged through you, your body instinctively fighting against his hold as you struggled to break free.

one thing i love more than the one bed trope is the nightmare one that follows it 😈

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

MY POOR BABY OHMYGOD

But then, instinct kicked in, and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could. Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline.

i love love LOVE how you write intimate moments like this

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

his voice so soft, just above her heartbeat? shut up your writing EATS

It served as another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence.

YOUR CHARACTERIZATION OF RAFE I LOVE SO SO SO MUCH

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that." You felt like there was more to the story.

yeah 🤨

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted, his tone laced with irritation. "I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

damn shit, because he wants to be ur bf 😉

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

me, reader, "damn that's so long ago why won't u forget about it" me, irl, *i've held year-long grudges against people for stealing my pencils*

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door. “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

he's so insecure 🥺

“Right,” You swallow, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

DAMNNNN

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion, his movements graceful yet filled with an underlying urgency. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch wavered between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. It was as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it.

INTIMATE INTIMATE INTIMATEEE 💘

“You can’t kiss me to avoid questions, Rafe.”"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

reminds me of that specific scene in 10 things i hate about you

"I know," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "But for now, can we just...be?"You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

my poor babies i love; they r unfortunately stuck in a situationship 😭

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - two

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader x sorta canon!rafe; doesn't exactly follow the real plot line but...it does?; am i turning this into a series? maybe.

word count: 6k...

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination.

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that. You knew better.

Despite that...You found it impossible to look at him for the next forty-eight hours. In fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound. Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age.

Initially, there was an undeniable tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it gave you whiplash. In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets. Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the knot of frustration building in your chest. He was so fucking insufferable.

"Oh, so you've got a better suggestion?" you shot back in defiance.

He shot you a glare, but you can't help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky, "I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"Hell no?” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, his frustration evident in the way he tugged at his hair, "C'mon,” he scoffed, his voice tinged with impatience. "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness. On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause. There was no third chance.

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

Rafe’s stare flickered with a hint of irritation, “I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’m not about to let us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The tension between you two was palpable, but there was no time to dwell on it. You both turned your attention back to the task at hand. The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom. As night fell, you both moved with practiced stealth, with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat. The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards. Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back. Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention. The sound was louder than you expected. But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered urgently, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat.

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously. Rafe didn’t need to be told twice. The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a surge of hope. For the first time in months, freedom was within reach.

As Rafe guided the boat out of the harbor, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? I told you it’d be fine,” Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed. "Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving," you snapped back, your voice tense.

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing. The silence between you was a common thing, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the night. Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding. You kept scanning the horizon, every wave a potential threat.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but edged with irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rafe let out a sharp laugh. "Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him. “No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, the easy bravado slipping for just a moment, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints”

“At least they’re not murder—”

You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching as he ground his teeth, lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water with renewed urgency. The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed.

What could you possibly say? Apologize? There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him. Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. And you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words. It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind and he still refused to show remorse if not between four walls with you. Never out in the open, never too loud.

The sound of the engine became a steady thrum, drowning out any other noise, as if creating a barrier between you and the rest of the world. You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the weight of the past pressing down on you like a lead blanket. It was done. And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t.

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, like a never-ending path.

After what felt like an eternity, a sliver of light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. You breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats," he instructed, his voice curt and businesslike. He was all focus still, facade slipping away to reveal that calculating side that had always unnerved you.

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently. The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, breaking the silence. Your voice was softer, the edge of anger dulled by exhaustion.

Rafe glanced at you, his expression unreadable. "We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you want to get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end. Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death.

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that twisted in your gut.

“You know what I meant, Rafe.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you pressed on, determined to break through the wall of resentment that had formed between you, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly; the hard edges of his demeanor were momentarily blunted by your words. He looked away, his jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before.

“If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you. The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage. With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence.

Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead. You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water laps gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness. In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps, despite your efforts to remain composed. You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet. The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees. It was larger than you had anticipated, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps. The warm, humid air carried the scent of salt and seaweed, adding to the coastal ambiance. As you walked, an uneasy feeling crept over you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, maybe it was just the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year.

After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island. The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you said, nodding towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Rafe followed closely behind you, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the dimly lit room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what? Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly masked your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a knack for getting what he wanted. To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," he said, his tone disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks.

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment. "Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you; his expression unreadable. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway ahead.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual brooding demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump,” Rafe said, his tone light but with an underlying note of exhaustion. "But it'll do for now."

You sank onto the edge of the bed with a weary sigh “Better than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised," you said with a wry smile, a hint of defiance creeping into your tone. "We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization dawn on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

“I can sleep on the floor, relaaax.”

You shoot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Seriously?" you ask, a hint of incredulity coloring your voice. "You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "Why not? It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that. Instead, you only studied him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none. Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind. As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the calm before the storm. It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness. For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. Concern gnawed at your gut as you watched him, the sight of him trapped in a nightmare and it weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, despite the walls he put up, you didn’t like to see him in pain. It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Rafe," you whispered softly, trying to rouse him from his restless slumber. "Hey, wake up."

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper as you clawed at his hands, desperate for release. But he was lost in the grip of his nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as the world blurred around the edges, darkness creeping into your vision while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp, "Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat vanished, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed. Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. It was a startling sight, seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see. For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say in the face of such raw emotion. But then, instinct kicked in, and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could. Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline.

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. The weight of his body against yours was oddly comforting, grounding you in the present moment and pushing back the memories of his violent outburst just moments before.

After a while, Rafe pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you "I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead, your touch gentle and reassuring. "I know," you whispered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You don't know why you offer him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light.

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside. Then, Rafe spoke again, his voice tinged with curiosity, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression urged you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once, “Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing. He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily. With a sigh, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded, his defenses crumbling.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you on the bed, his usual bravado replaced by a rare hesitancy. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you, a wave of warmth and comfort washed over you, “Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of fitful sleep and restless dreams, but somehow, with Rafe by your side, it felt more bearable. When morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes, brb. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you. Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, probably sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night. It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions and weaknesses. You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

Pushing aside your conflicting emotions, you rose from the bed and stretched. The events of the previous night began to fade into the background as you focused on the task at hand: a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl. You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets if you stayed another night.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a soothing balm, washing away the remnants of fear and tension from the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you like a comforting embrace as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles. You focused on the simple act of washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you.

Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness, his vulnerability laid bare. It served as another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence.

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air and with a towel wrapped snugly around your body, you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction. His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you. As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a withering glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall. There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about. Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

As you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room. The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast. As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. It was strange, hearing Rafe talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to coast through life on his family’s wealth and influence. But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him. He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan,” you said, your voice steady and confident. “Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began, your tone light as you tried to sound casual, "I've been curious—why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food, a hint of surprise in his expression. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted his voice casual but tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?”

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table. You knew what that meant.

You leaned forward, expression softening as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catches you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness and irritation. You straightened up, your expression hardening as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his.

"It’s not important," he snapped, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled slightly at his harsh tone, the sting of his words making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this. But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You blurted out, frustration bubbling over. You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

The words stung like a slap to the face. Resentment flared within you; the color drained from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I don't carry that guilt with me every single day?"

His words caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, “I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wants to say.

“Right,” You swallow, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours, “You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t kiss me to avoid questions, Rafe.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled jawline, "It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell. But then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I know," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

787 notes · View notes

galaxiasgreen · 2 days ago

Text

⛅💗Nippy

Fluffy Ominis x F!Muggle-born!Reader [T-Rated, 1.5k]

He laughed, a rich sound, deep from his chest. You glanced sidelong at him then. The glow of the lamppost was cleaving shadows over his face, cutting at angles, accentuating what you'd never noticed about him before – his beauty. Sebastian was boyish good looks, round cheeks, a devilish smile. Ominis had none of that same charm, but there was something so divine about his features, his sloped nose and knife-sharp lips, hair combed back in golden-brown waves. And his eyes, despite not seeing, were... intense, unforgettable. Vivid.

It's cold on the way back from Hogsmeade, and you forgot your jumper.

A/N: This is a scene from Troublesome and Unladylike Chapter 2, but it’s edited to work standalone. Jumper-sharing trope, Oh No He's Hot, banter and fluff ahoy. Reader is Gibby, but no prior reading is required. Enjoy <3

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

It was during third year that something about Ominis changed for you.

It wasn't a particularly warm day that March weekend, so it was a mistake on your part to go to Hogsmeade with him and Sebastian, late that Sunday without a proper cardigan. The afternoon had deceived you, the sun whispering against your skin, and by the time you'd bought everything but your usual stash of sweets, a swathe of clouds had rolled in, a grey ribbon across the sky.

"What do you mean, the essay was twenty inches?" Sebastian crossed his arms. "You're pranking me."

"It was twenty, Sebastian," said Ominis, exasperated. "I told you it was twenty."

You nudged your head towards Honeydukes. "Okay! Just to replenish my midnight snacks—"

"You said it was ten!"

"I specifically remember saying add another ten."

Sebastian said a word you could not repeat. "It's due first thing in the morning. Blast it. I better go back. Can I take a look at yours?"

"So you can copy it? I don't think so."

"I wouldn't copy it. Just... take inspiration from it. Verbatim."

He made the approximation of a glare, and Sebastian, wincing, turned to you with a desperate gleam in his eye.

"Gibby? Please?"

"Sure!" you chirruped. "But only if you're okay with a mediocre-to-dreadful Potions score!"

Sebastian threw up his arms in exasperation. "You two, honestly. I'll ask Anne."

When he hurried off, back to the carriages, Ominis snorted. "You're very secure in your mediocrity."

"It's one of my best traits."

To that he laughed. "Very well then. Honeydukes?"

By the time you came back out, armed to the teeth in your weekly supply of cherry pops, Fizzing Whizzbees and rock, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and a sharp wind sliced through the village. It only exacerbated by the time you stepped out of Hogsmeade.

Where there were no carriages.

"Fiddlesticks," you muttered. "We must have missed the last one."

His lips buttoned in displeasure. "Makes sense. You took a profoundly longtime deciding between cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties."

"It's a hard choice to make."

"Well, now we're going to have a hard walk."

About an hour, down the meandering path back to Hogwarts. Ominis gathered his belongings and headed off, wand drawn for navigation, and you scrambled to catch up.

As the chill deepened, the canopy snuffing the coming rays of the moon, you kept close to his side, aware of his warmth.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"For taking so long in Honeydukes."

He scoffed, not seeming particularly annoyed, albeit a little inconvenienced. "I know you well enough now to know you cannot be rushed in there. And I could've left you if I wanted. I just decided not to because I am a good person."

"My papa says if you have to tell people you're a good person, then you're not a good person." Teasing filled your voice. "I guess that makes you really quite terrible."

"Oh, yes, waiting for you. How rotten."

"Suppose I could give you the Good Person award. You just have to admit how amazing I am."

"Only a Good Person can bestow the Good Person Award, so I'm afraid you don't qualify."

"I take offence to that. I'm spectacular."

"Incredible how you manage to be simultaneously spectacular and mediocre."

"Hey!"

Your gaze unwittingly travelled down the column of his neck. He'd grown taller since you'd known him too, lean in the way a river meanders, lazy in its strength. Sturdy biceps were hidden within woollen sleeves – not muscular, but not flimsy, either, you knew from when Sebastian cast a Shrinking charm on his shirt once. The Gaunt family were all inbred, generations of parents and grandparents that were cousins, so Ominis was a product of centuries of incest – but aside from his eye condition, and his somewhat ropey gait, there were no physical indicators of poor health.

He was... arrestingly exquisite.

Oh. You blinked. Why am I thinking that?

"What's the matter?" he asked suddenly.

You flushed. "Hmm? What? What do you mean?"

"You're quiet. That's never good."

"I— can be quiet," you said, a little breathless. "I'm... thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

You swatted him, and he smiled lightly.

"Dare I ask what occupies your mind?"

How good-looking you are. "Sweets."

A tsk. "I don't know what else I expected."

You fell into companionable silence, but now something had shifted in your stomach – something that drew your eye back to his profile again, drinking in the details, the beauty marks, the even jaw, finely slashed, the quirk of his smile—

You stumbled suddenly, toe hitting a jutting rock. You flailed your arms, bags rattling, before you managed to right yourself – and noticed how he'd reached out, ready to catch you if you fell. Ever the gentleman.

"Careful," he warned.

"Yes, sorry, too busy staring at— the view."

The view being you. You forced yourself to watch your feet, frustrated. Stop staring. It was terribly perverse to take advantage of him when he couldn't see, not to mention impolite and very unbecoming of a lady.

"You're quiet again."

"Sorry, sorry," you said automatically. You hoisted your bags to wrap your arms around yourself. "Just— trying to stay warm."

"You're cold?"

"It's a little nippy."

"Nippy?"

"Sorry, Muggle thing— I mean chilly."

More than that now. The sun had dipped, leaving a paint stroke of indigo in its wake. Hogwarts was in view, but it seemed no closer, the path winding and long. You hadn't even passed the balcony yet, where all the older students hung around to do lewd things... like holding hands (that had been quite the shock when you first got here).

Ominis sighed. "You should've brought a jumper."

"I know. I'm silly."

"Tell me something I don't know."

You halted to put your bags down and pull your shirt sleeves over your hands. "I'll be okay. I'll jog it!"

A ruffle of fabric pulled your head back up. Ominis had pocketed his wand, sticking out of his trouser leg, and was shucking his jumper. The shirt beneath it caught, flashing his midriff when he pulled the wool off – you flushed an even deeper colour when he offered it to you.

"W-What are you doing?"

"It's cold," he said, like it was obvious. "You can borrow this."

"But— then you'll get cold."

"I'll be fine." He shook it again. "Take it before I change my mind."

The wool was coarse, a dark green with the Slytherin insignia emblazoned on the breast, but warm – warm from his body. Great Scott. You scrunched it before sliding it over yourself, and of course it was too big, drowning you, but it was the scent that disorientated you worse than a Confundus charm. Ominis never bothered to use cologne, preferring some scentless soap, but still it smelt of him. Sweat and wood and an oily lotion. When you finally pulled your arms through the sleeves and your head through the neck hole, glasses askew, you were dizzy with it.

Lord have mercy. Your gaze flickered to him – he'd picked up your bags of sweets with one arm. One well-defined arm.

"Let's go."

You could barely swallow. What on earth is wrong with me? But your heart was pounding, your ears ringing. He turned away to go, but he was also surrounding you, invading your thoughts with zero intention to leave.

If you were a Muggle, your mama would've thought to bring you to church with an agenda by now, introducing you to boys of similar age in hopes that later in life you'd find a match, marry, and start a family. When you were younger, the local baker's son Timothy liked to joke you could marry each other, an easy escape from the societal obligation to court. You'd agreed as all children do, appalled at the idea of parading around to search for a husband.

Magical folk didn't follow those same customs – strange as it was to adjust – but that didn't mean you didn't think about the future, about marriage. That, one day you might like to have a family. That it would be nice to marry someone of your choosing, someone both handsome and kind.

Someone like Ominis Gaunt.

Oh no, no, no, you thought. Please do not take a fancy to your best friend.

But by then, it was too late.

"Thank—" your voice came out as a croak, and you tried again. "Thank you for this."

He slowed about two strides away. "Bring a jumper next time."

"I will."

"Mean it."

"I do mean it!"

He smiled again, and your heart bounced. "We'll see."

Please reblog/ share if you enjoyed <3

[read Troublesome and Unladylike on AO3, Wattpad] [Divider credit]

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #gibby #troublesome and unladylike #acvasverse #my oneshots #my writing #my stuff

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planetpedri · 3 days ago

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Hi! Would it be possible to request fluff with Cole Palmer, like a lazy morning in bed when he doesn't have training and then getting up to make breakfast together? I love your work sm

Mornings like this — Cole Palmer.

Pairing: Cole Palmer x Fem!Reader

Summary: You loved when Cole didn’t have training. It meant you got to have a normal day together, doing normal things like cook breakfast together without needing to rush.

Word count: 620+

Disclaimer/s: Fluffy + banter !

A/N: I’m finally going through my reqs heyyy

Sun seeping through your curtains had to be the most annoying thing. On Cole’s rare day off, you two liked to sleep in, but the sun had a vendetta against you, clearly. Your boyfriend shifted behind you with a groan, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck.

“How many times do I have to beg you to get blackout curtains?” He grumbles, his voice raspy with sleep.

A small breath of laughter escapes your lips. “Baby, if you want them so bad, you can buy them.”

Cole’s eyes fluttered open, an amused grin on his lips when his eyes met yours. “Fine. Today, we go get them today.”

Shuffling around to face him, you nod in agreement. “Breakfast first though. Are we in the mood for anything specific? I would kill for Belgian waffles.”

“Do we have flour?” Cole quirks an eyebrow, “because if we do, then we can make some, but I want bacon.”

“Bacon and waffles is an odd combo, but i’m so down.” You sit up, stretching your arms and back. “Okay, I need to go to the bathroom first, i’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

The man nods, climbing out of bed alongside you. He goes to place a kiss on your lips, but you dodge him. “Oh.. we need to brush our teeth first.”

His lips purse and he has to suppress a groan, but nods in agreement anyways. So instead of making his way to the kitchen, he follows you to the bathroom.

After your morning routine was done and you both make your way into the kitchen, you begin preparing for breakfast cooking. You both move in slow motion, too tired to make a hasty breakfast like you usually would on his training days.

“Pass me the measuring cups?” You sigh, putting your hand out patiently.

Cole steps away from the stove where he was making his bacon to grab the cups. Handing them to you, he goes back to where he was previously.

Your phone was connected to a speaker, playing soft tunes while the two of you cooked. “Ay, can I have a drink?”

Your lips pull into a frown. You’d just poured the perfect cup of orange juice. Reluctantly, you hand your boyfriend the glass. “Don’t drink it all, Cole.” You point at his accusatorially, which he feigns offense at before taking two large gulps just in spite.

You gasp, resisting the urge to lunge at him. “Hey! What did I say? You’re such a—“

“Woah!” He laughs, “watch it!”

“A loving, kind, boyfriend.” You grit through a forced smile, “hand it over.” Your boyfriends laughter echoed throughout the kitchen as he hands you the now half empty cup.

Once breakfast had been made, you two sit down at the table across from each other. “So, we go get curtains at around one, and then stop at the new café down the road? I want to try it, your sister said it’s amazing.”

Cole hums, “after that can we stop by the mall? I want to get a new hoodie.”

“You have like—five thousand. Why do you need another?” Your lip curls into a teasing grin.

“Yeah, and so why is my closet empty? Oh, should we go take a peek in yours?” He shoots back. Your smug look falters. Well. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Oh, shut up.” You huff. “New hoodie, got it.”

The rest of the morning goes smoothly, both of you showering and getting ready for the day at a snails pace. You were grateful for his days off, they always made for the perfect lazy days. Plus, any extra time with Cole was time well spent, no matter how productive.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

#cole palmer #cole palmer x you #cole palmer x reader #cole palmer one shot #cole palmer x y/n #cole palmer imagine #blurb #football #fluff #chelsea fc #chelsea football club

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empty-vessel-of-a-person · 2 days ago

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Banters and Domesticated

Note: This is Dedicated to the user (I forgot her/his name) who says that Zayne's Moonlit Dream and Heartstring Note is unsatisfactory.

My first question is, are we reading/watching the same memory? And 2nd, do you really know Zayne?

It's a bit unfortunate that indeed, Zayne's memory/cards have seriously less detailed kindle part. But if you go through the whole story, MC and Zayne have the most solid and steady relationship among all LaDS men.

This is not to compare MC's love for Xavier, Rafayel, and Sylus, but rather take this as how different LaDS men love and handle being in a relationship.

So Let's Go back to the "Moonlit Dream" card. You can go through the memory again if you want, but notice that when they get reunited, the background music is just so heartwarming. I know that it was not animated with MC and Zayne together, but their dialogue and action speaks louder than any outward love confession. They're familiar with being close to each other is not common with other LaDS men.

Another fact to consider is, Zayne and MC are the only pair that was on a date when Wander in Wonder Event Happens. They are always showing that whatever time they have left for themselves, they always spend it with each other. In line with this, Zayne confirms in Heartstring Note that he is not the only busy one, because when it comes to work, they are pretty much the same.

Kindly note as well that MC always willingly let Zayne hug, carry, cuddle, and be intimate with her. She even tests Zayne's resolve by sliding her hands inside Zayne's sleeves. And he cracks..

In Heartstring Note, they are being mistaken as parents and their love has been compared to how wife and husband love each other. This is seriously the most heart melting scene and yet they playfully banter with each other. Being able to laugh at each other's dry humor and still ending a day with a hug is just the perfect example of unconditional love.

I know I've been spouting random scenes but it will all make sense here.

Zayne is a very private and conservative person and this was shown on all of the Kindle part of his memories/cards. You have to understand that Zayne is not the type to go feral or dominating to show you that he loves you. He prefers to share his feelings and pure intentions through gentle touch and act of service.

Zayne is the type of guy you would want to be with when you are old and grey. Someone who is content just being with you.

Zayne is not like Xavier who can unknowingly and/or innocently express his love (its like rizzing you unknowingly). He shows his love in precise and calculated matter that you will not mistake his feelings for you.

Zayne is not like Rafayel who can easily make jokes and be light hearted about it. Instead his dry humor will make you laugh because he is kind of awkward sometimes.

Zayne is not like Sylus who monitors you 24/7 because you already and willingly communicates with him.

It's the quiet moments with him that stand out. And it may not be shown yet on any of his Kindles, but MC likes going to sleep/waking up in his arms (source: drunken intimacy, snowy serenity, hidden motive, mystic adventure event) They are practically sleeping in either on thier home.

Please don’t let your disappointment from the developers blinded your love for Zayne. Also note that this is how a real life love story works, you have to sometimes look beyond what eyes can see to know how different your man shows affection for you. Yes, sometimes Zayne’s Kindle Part is short and less eventful, but to say his memories are unsatisfactory, sorry but I have to oppose you in that.

Let’s be mindful of what we say and review facts before posting so no negativity will spread in our beloved game… PEACE OUT!!!

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne lads #lnds zayne #zayne l&ds #dr zayne

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imageingrunge · 2 days ago

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A needlessly thorough review of DATV so I can move on with my life:

WHAT I LIKED:

The story pacing flows better without all that open world slog from DAI I am not bombarded by 50 side quests that have no baring on anything other than rp flavor

The game is pretty, CC is nice

They gave you far more opportunities to flesh out your Rook's background than in DAI and da2 but it's not as fun has having a mini origin story from DAO

no fall damage and if u run out of a combat zone ur companions follow u too

Hossberg wetlands really remind me of dragon age awakenings and I like the way the blight looks there, it gave me a nice nostalgic feeling for the older games

WHAT I DID NOT LIKE (IN DETAIL)

Voice Acting & Dialogue

It is really hard to be invested in a game that feels the need to recap everything you just experienced from 5 minutes ago, (verging on insulting my intelligence) and the silliest part is while i do hate this I got so checked out after act 2 I needed the recap

A lot of the dialogue and banter is just empty small talk and meaningless pleasantries that sucked the life out of me, had me longing for the days of hearing Ohgren's beer belches reverberate off the walls in the deep roads:

Voice acting is really consistent, I hated it when you never knew how your inquisitor would sound in DAI sometimes too serious for a funny comment or like yelling at Cassandra and cullen over nothing - Rook is more consistent but it comes at a loss of personality every line is uttered in the same annoying tone that had me being like damn can he stfu already (da2 was ideal voice acting for me if they cant deliver that again just go back to a voiceless protagonist)

Me whenever my rook opened his mouth: i was getting violent on that skip button

The dialogue between rook and their companions holds it back from being enjoyable at all really- here's some examples:

Emmerich's personal quest in act 2: "I want to do this immortality rite it's a very high honor in my order but rook I might die in the process permanently, I am an orphan and afraid of dying" Rook: "You could die?!?! That's awful". In Origins you can have a conversation with Wynn about her inevitable death and respond in a manner similar to rook and Wynn teases you by saying "well i'm not going to live for ever dear" it made me smile and sad about not being able to really help her. Did not feel that way Emmerich though, Im so uninterested in him as a character my response and feelings are "old people die all the time" and then 'wait why the fuck haven't you done this immortality ritual yet instead dragging me over here to collect some flowers"

Companions & Romance

the flirt options aren't all that flirty, its just rook being nice, all the romance content seems behind a 'romance locked in' moment (that comes in so late in the game u already forgot who u were even flirting with at times) so you can't hop ur way from one bed to another before deciding on 'the forever one' (remember when I could ride the iron bull then break up and be with Cullen- I don't think that’s an option here)

The companions are all pretty forgettable, I did everyone's personal quest (with the exception of Taash tried to kill a dragon for them n failed so bad i just moved on) and forgot there was even an approval system with them or that I was supposed to pick choices for them. It felt like i was on a train going in one direction where it did not matter what I said or did to them they would be fine. It’s like I've lost and gained nothing by doing these quests. The deepest thing I learned about Emmerich is that he is a 50 yr old orphan scared of dying. And it makes me not care all that much about them beyond “I just need you to function enough to get me to the end of the game sure Taash embrace being Rivaini, yes Harding live peacefully w that Titan shit inside you idc… Lucanis..ahh what was ur issue again I forget”

I made Lucanis live peacefully with Spite (stuck as an abomination that's supposed to be as volatile as Anders & Justice) Let Emmerich become a lich and no one batted an eye. Everyone just heehee haw hawing over Emmerich's new skeleton form and I forget about spite a lot unless he comments on something i've killed. Was there supposed to be some moral quandary? to make Emmerich a lich I had to "kill off" Manfred... the walking skeleton who might as well have been a rock with a pair of googly eyes attached to him for all i care

I don’t want to help Bellara light funeral pyres in a puzzle game play style that isnt a deep message about death. I want Aveline's speech about reading her favorite book to her dying father after hawke lost thier mother.

For Neve's romance, it took the whole world falling part and everyone dying for her to kiss me for a 2 time and then pity fuck me and afterword she’s like I’m leaving don’t want to be too distracting. All these lines carry no weight like bad actors w no chemistry

jaw on the floor comparing this (first time I said "i love you" to neve)

to the first time I said it to cullen and how he treats u before the big battle

I get that she isn't lovey dovey but at 70 hrs in and 2 kisses it feels like she just dont love me </3

Combat - as a spellblade mage*

combat was this weird mix of sometimes fun sometimes a new and unique form of human torture (wydm press shift 4 times n hold down e then press V C and 2 IM ON A KEYBOARD!) Once u make it past level 20 u are immortal but ur enemies are sponges I dreaded every single dragon fight despite that being my favorite thing to do in DAI. Don't ever want to see another Ogre in my life they body me into corners that hitting space can't save me from.

At some point u just gotta run around the place a lot hoping ur companions can do the damage for you bc the mobs aren’t interested in them at all. i was spamming 2 n slamming on that E key hopping it would be over n done with already, If i wanted to play a flashy monster hunter game, well then id play tw3 at least that combat is fun.

Lore & Story building

At the end of Trespasser, I was under the impression that the conflict in DATV would revolve around solas amassing an army of elves all over Thedas to rebel against the Evanuris. He had a whole network of Spies working against the Inquisition and the Antaam, and planned to restore the elven people, upend their religious views, and try to tear down the veil as a way of atonement. So I was understanding of there only being 3 import choices ( 1- who you romanced, 2- Save or redeem Solas 3- Disband or Keep inquisition). But that's not the story we get; instead its this??

The veil jumpers are like engineering mages with no ties to Solas beyond being an elves. There is no religious struggle they just seem to accept that these Gods have always been evil and need to be stopped. Solas is just a one man army trapped in the fade off screen for like 70% of the game. Should I have just kept the inquisition around after all? The only mention I got was my disbanded inquisition choice was inky going "my name still carries weight in southern thedas" and it seemed like disbanding or keeping it would have an affect on how easy or hard it would be to stop Solas but no it really doesn't at all

“It doesn’t feel like a Dragon Age game”

A criticism I rarely take seriously because that can mean so many different things? Like what is it the atmosphere? The aesthetics? The “dArK fAnTasy” none of these things have ever stayed consistent in any dragon age game. And I’d say DA franchise lost its teeth/edge when dai rolled around it was pretty light in the world of dark fantasy

However…theyre kinda right this time around....

It doesn’t feel like a dragon age game because they removed a lot of the lore your were exposed to in the previous games to the point where this might as well be another game all together. (i am not even a lore nerd but i do need something there to feel like i am in a dragon age game)

Yes the city is named Minrathos you were are told of its cultural significance and history as the seat of the empire but looks like a shittier version of kirkwall (and I kept getting lost going around the map so I hated it even more for wasting my time) Honestly the city felt super high tech and out of place in a fantasy setting imo, I missed it when everyone lived in a wooden hovel in the middle of the woods.

There is no reason for the venatori to follow Elgarnan and ghilian'nan or for the Qunari either but it all gets hand waved away with "they offered us power"

Reading the Inquisitors letters made me feel like im in a spinoff game and the real story is happening somewhere else. And sad to like baby take me with you!! i want to save u from this nightmare

A lot of the factions are sanitized to the point of being boring Darvin's little 'we're warden we don't do blood magic that's just not right" baby I let the wardens sacrifice elves to Corphyeus 3 weeks ago :/

Qunari Culture

So the whole reason you were fighting the Antaam in DAI was because they believed you were in cahoots with Solas, who's whole plan to them is to sow chaos and disorder- that is a HUGE no no in the Qun so they see it as their sacred duty to stop you. The Qunari we meet in DATV mindless npc mooks who attack you not because your with Solas but because the Evil elven gos promised them uhh power n shit for stopping you. Like I know I did not just waste my time in DAI reading about how egalitarian the Qun is everyone is like a Hive, they depend on each other so selfishness is rooted out so wtf was going on in Treviso with these guys. A whole culture decimated down to being darkspawn mobs part 2

What made me never want to play another DA game ever again:

Everything you ever did in Orlais, Ferelden, Kirkwall is pointless. No matter what the last letter from the Inquistor is "yeah the blight reached the south Denerim is gone, ferelden is blighted beyond repair, we took back Skyhold but barely. The Venatori disposed of whoever you put in charge of Orlais and there's giant leviathans rising out the sea in Ostwick" There is no conclusion to this it's just the state of the world now

I cant even pretend my non solas romanced Inky is happy and safe after all this? My hof and Alistar might as well be dead for all that it ever mattered. I get that the devs wanted a clean slate but did they have to burn my house down and salt the fields? It feels so spiteful and mean, like they wanted to make a whole separate game and tack on the "dragon age" title to it for money. If they're not interested in the lore or world building why should I? it made me fully checked out of the rest of the story. Like damn idgaf about elgar'nan and the other one give me back Redcliff

TLDR I dont know if i should be sad that I still care about this or glad its over either way im blocking all datv tags n moving on

#datv #datv critical #dragon age veilguard #da posting #if it were up to me! it be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for this game to win GOTY #im doing this so i dont become annoying to the ppl that follow me and DO like the game <3 we can move past this

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