#this is a fun question and you are the first one to ask it ever

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.2k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

A blood curdling shriek rang through the house, jolting Carter from her restless dreams.

She sat straight up in bed, heart racing as she looked around the dark room, head so heavy she could barely remember where she was or how she got there.

In her hungover mental fog, she pieced it together slowly. She was at the beach house, in her room, it was early, she drank so much last night and Topper said -

“OH MY GOD!” 

Another sharp scream came from downstairs, and her heart rate spiked all over again. She pulled the fluffy comforter around her shoulders and hurried out of the room, quiet on the stairs as she nervously approached the source of all the commotion.

When she saw what was inducing Sabrina’s shock, she doubled back, hiding around the corner so they couldn’t see her. Her stomach churned with bitter loathing, and something else even more nauseating…

She dropped the blanket and rushed to the half-bath off the house’s entryway, doubled over the toilet bowl as last night’s poor choices continued to haunt her.

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Rafe drove faster than he had before your interrupted rendezvous, seeming not to want to drag this adventure out anymore. You eyed him nervously from the passenger seat, searching for words that weren’t coming to you. 

Tongue tied and exhausted was not how you wanted to begin this…whatever this was between you. Rafe had given you words, so many of them, back on the beach and all he asked in return was a simple yes or no.

Are you my girl?

No four words had ever felt so heavy. The shitty part was, you wanted to say yes. At the sound of his breathless question every cell in your body was screaming yes! I’m your girl! I’ve always been your girl! 

But then there was that pesky piece of self preservation that cemented itself in your heart all those years ago and didn’t plan to give up any time soon. 

He looked so disappointed when you couldn’t give him a quick and easy answer, his chest now deflated and shoulders sunken as he drove the rest of the route home. Despite your lingering hesitation, you felt like you needed to give him something, needed to lift the frown that was settled on the lips you had tasted so many times this morning.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“For what?” He asked.

“I’m…slow,” you began, “it takes me a while, y’know? To find the words. I’m not like you, I don’t know how you came up with that speech in less than a minute.”

Rafe laughed, confusing you.

“What?”

“You think I came up with that speech in a minute?” He chuckled, “I’ve been practicing it every day since senior year of high school.”

Your heart clenched at the endearing thought of him in front of the mirror, driving to class, taking a shower all while rehearsing what he’d say if you ever gave him the chance.

“Oh,” you tucked your hair behind your ear.

It was infuriating, your complete inability to get a grip on your own thoughts and feelings around him. It had always been this way. You were well-spoken and sound-minded, until this one person was in your atmosphere, his presence your own personal kryptonite.

To be fair to yourself, it wasn’t just your own weakness for him that had caused you to build such high walls. When you were kids, he sometimes made you feel this way on purpose. He used to have fun watching you get flustered, just the right amount of flirting to send you into a tizzy, only to leave you spinning like a top with no one to stop you.

You truly tried to leave the past behind, burying it somewhere back in the sand on the beach. You reminded yourself that the Rafe of your memories was not the one sitting next to you right now. But that might just be the problem, because at least you knew that Rafe, you knew exactly what he would do next.

If he grabbed your hand, you knew he was about to drop it. If he said something sweet, you knew he was about to say something passive aggressive. If he acted like he loved you, you knew he was about to act like he’d never met you a day in his life.

But this Rafe, this new one, was completely unpredictable. Wild and dangerous in his apparent affection for you. How were you supposed to know what he did next wasn’t going to hurt? He was right about what he said on the jet ski - you won’t know until you give him the chance. Easier said than done.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he offered after you’d been quiet for a long time.

“This week has just been…” trying to come up with one word to describe it felt like a futile task.

“Overwhelming?” Rafe tried to help.

“Surprising,” you countered. “I’ve never been good with surprises.”

“You like to know what’s coming next,” he nodded, once again displaying a deep knowledge of you that you never knew he possessed.

Like he could read your mind, his arm stretched across the small divide and his palm, warm and soft, settled on your thigh, a single soothing stroke to let you know he’s still here, he’s still yours. The feeling of his skin touching yours was like aloe vera directly on the burn.

With a grateful smile, you leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath as he steered you home.

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Carter padded down the hall, stopping three separate times, trying to decide if she should just go back to her own room. But the sight of her frantic texts to you still saying “delivered” and not “read” was too concerning to ignore.

She opened Topper’s door without knocking.

He was sitting up against his headboard, typing feverishly on his phone. At the sight of her, he clutched his duvet cover, pulling it up higher over his nearly naked body.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” 

“Please, like I haven’t seen it all before. Like I didn’t see it yesterday,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh okay, so you do remember. Based on the way you were acting last night I thought maybe you’d forgotten we’d ever been together,” he snipped at her.

“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she waved him off, dismissing his complaints flippantly, “are you aware of what’s happening downstairs right now? Of who is happening downstairs right now?”

“Yes, I saw her pull up,” he returned his attention to his phone and his frenzied typing.

Outside his cracked open door, Carter heard Kelce, Tom, and a few others come barreling up the stairs, chatting about the recent arrival.

“Be so fucking for real, did you invite her?” Carter said, attempting to lower her voice.

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but you do this thing where you think you’re whispering and you’re actually not,” Topper informed her.

“Topper…”

“No, I didn’t invite her.,” he answered. “Actually I was about to ask if you did.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? I hate her.”

“Wow alright, hate's a strong word, Carter, maybe calm down a little.”

Ever since their knock-down-drag-out at the club last night, the arguing that was usually playful and lighthearted had an edge of actual bitterness to it.

“First of all, if you ever tell me to ‘calm down’ again, I’m going full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass. Second of all, you need to go down there and tell her to leave,” she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and held her chin up as she bossed him around. He hated that despite how mad at her he was, he fucking loved it.

“How does that job possibly fall on me?” He scoffed.

“Aren’t you Mr. Team Rafe-and-my-sister? Don’t you want to get rid of the reason they stopped talking in the first place?” She reasoned.

“I’m not gonna tell her she can’t be here,” he shut her down. “It’s not my house, and it’s really none of my business. Or yours.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, “oh yeah? Then who are you texting so much over there?”

“I’m just giving him a head’s up,” he shrugged. “She should probably know too.”

“And you’re just assuming they’re together?” She snarled.

“Puh-lease,” he rolled his eyes, “did you see them at the club last night? There’s no way they didn’t hook up.”

She wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t, even though she knew somewhere deep in her gut that he was probably right. 

When Rafe still didn’t answer any of his texts, Topper sighed heavily, “fuck it, I don’t care if I’m cockblocking, I’m calling him.”

Before he could dial, the house shook with the slam of the front door. Carter and Topper hurried out to the hall and hesitated at the top of the steps. Your lone voice carried up to them, talking to no one in particular as you muttered, “un-fucking-belivable.”

Carter actually did whisper this time, “I think it might be too late for that…”

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The feeling of Rafe’s hand, warm and steady on your thigh, as he drove the rest of the route home was so nice and comforting, you let yourself slip into the possibility that this could actually be it. Maybe you really could just leave the past behind you, maybe you really had finally found each other and it could just be simple like this.

But your fantasy didn’t last long.

Rafe parked in the spot across the street that you had taken Carter’s car from a few hours ago. Even when he turned the key and cut the engine, he didn’t remove his hand from your leg. 

“You ready?” He sighed.

“For what?” You questioned, eyeing him curiously, his face serious as he looked down at the site of his hand on your skin.

He shook his head like he didn’t know the answer himself, “reality, I guess.”

You placed your hand over his, smirking at the sight of your fingers encompassing each other’s, wanting so much more from these hands and truly believing you’d have all the time in the world to enjoy them. 

“Bring it on,” you gave him a small smile.

“He leaned across the center console and dropped a deep kiss to your lips, causing you to sigh into his mouth. All the times you imagined kissing him, you never thought such a rough-around-the-edges guy would have such soft lips. You felt like you might be able to spend forever with them on your skin.

When he finally pulled away, you reached for the handle of your door, beginning to open it, but Rafe reached across your body and pulled it shut again.

“What are you doing?” You asked in surprise.

He smiled that perfect, dimpled grin of his, “extra credit.”

You giggled as he hurried to climb out of the driver’s side, hurrying around to your door and opening it with a chivalrous flair.

“Wow,” you beamed, accepting his hand as he helped you down from the tall vehicle. “You weren’t kidding about trying to be a gentleman.”

“For you, I’ll be anything,” he flirted.

Despite your best efforts not to, you blushed, the red hue on your cheeks deepening when Rafe kept your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked back to the house. It was the first time he’d held your hand out in the open like this, where anyone could look out from the windows of the beach house and see the two of you together. It was foreign to you, his public display of affection, and yet it felt so right. You couldn’t help but wish it hadn’t taken this long.

“Can I ask you something?” You said quietly.

“Anything,” he squeezed your hand assuringly. 

“Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?” 

Rafe’s face fell slightly, watching his feet as they made less and less forward progress on the sidewalk, until he came to a full stop. The question was mostly meant to be lighthearted, a tease really, but his solemn reaction made your stomach twist with concern.

“I…” he started, voice unsteady, not meeting your eyeline, “I don’t know if I should tell you this but -”

You never knew what he wasn’t supposed to tell you, because before he could, a sickeningly familiar voice called out from the front porch.

“Hey guys!”

Head snapping toward the sound, you looked up, and there she was, as stunning as ever in that same signature everything-you’re-not-ness. 

Cassie Bryant.

Her face was adorned with a glistening smile, yours was noticeably not. Everything in you sunk, including the corners of your lips, completely unable to hide the way your heart dropped six feet under the ground at the sight of her.

She was somehow even more golden and glowing now than she was back then. Glossy blonde hair flowing down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her perfect, blemish free skin glowed in the early morning light. Her big, round Disney Princess eyes quickly found Rafe and flicked over your joined hands, clocking the way they were folded together in unmistakable intimacy.

It happened so quickly, and yet it felt like years worth of hurt and heartache compacted into one small moment. 

At the sight of Cassie on the porch, Rafe dropped your hand.

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Surely, any minute now, a camera crew would pop out from the bushes and announce that you were being Punk’d.

Or maybe it’d be the Mythbusters:

The myth? That you can actually heal from your childhood trauma with just four years of painstaking hard work. Well, we’re about to prove that all of that can be unraveled in the span of 72 hours! Also, we will be using your heart as our crash test dummy. Myth busted!

You didn’t look over at Rafe, couldn’t bear to watch the way he pulled his body away from yours, ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptibly. But you could feel it all the same, and you were sure she could too. 

Before Cassie could say anything else, the front door opened behind her, Sabrina stepping out of the house and taking in the unfolding scene on the lawn.

“Oh shit,” she laughed, “this is awkward!”

It’s like her main goal in life was to find new and creative ways to make your bad moments worse.

“Is it?” Cassie asked, seemingly unaware of the cause of Sabrina’s laughter. “We were just saying hi.”

She caught your eye as she said it, a polite but knowing smile on her lips. You realized with shock that she absolutely knew what was happening and was trying to make you feel better about it. You should just be grateful for the unexpected kindness, but something in you was suspicious. The Cassie you knew would’ve jumped at the chance to embarrass you, and she would’ve loved the way Rafe was treating you like you had the plague.

Plus, her taking pity on you, acknowledging the way Rafe had just hurt you, was somehow worse than her just being mean to you. You’d rather she go back to that.

“Y’all having a good trip?” She asked you and Rafe when the silence had lasted just a little too long.

You looked to Rafe, waiting for him to answer, begging him silently to say something that indicated that you were in fact having a good trip…together.

But he just said, “it’s been cool. Weather’s shit, though.”

“Yeah that’s what Sab told me, but I got a few days off my internship so I thought I’d come hang with y’all,” she said, eyes on you as she spoke, like she owed you an explanation.

“Well, welcome, then,” you smiled a polite smile that didn’t meet your eyes.

“You ready?” Sabrina asked, linking arms with Cassie, thick as thieves. 

“We’re going into town for some brunch if you guys want to join,” Cassie offered.

“That’s okay, I need to check on Carter,” you declined, all eyes turning to Rafe for his response.

“Uh yeah, I’m good here, th-thanks,” he stuttered, so awkward and shaky, a completely different person from the guy who was delivering monologues and sweeping you off your feet just a few hours ago.

Cassie just smiled politely once more as Sabrina pulled her into the car. As they drove off, you stood wordlessly with Rafe on the front walk, your chest completely hollow. You mustered some nerve and finally looked at him, head tilted, a completely unamused smile tugging your lips.

“Weather’s shit?” You repeated his words back to him.

“Look…” he began but didn’t finish the thought.

You just laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at him as you stormed off toward the house. Rafe stood frozen for a moment, kicking himself mentally and begging his brain to catch up with the moment, finally rushing off after you, but not able to before you slammed the door in his face.

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Carter and Topper exchanged nervous glances at the sound of you stomping into the house. 

They slowly and quietly settled on the top step, sitting forward to listen in as the front door opened and closed again, Rafe’s voice echoing through the house.

“Wait…” he said, following after you as you marched further into the house toward the kitchen.

You didn’t stop, “No, go ahead, you should go to brunch with her. Don’t let me keep you from a good time.”

“Wait, let’s just talk,” he pleaded.

“I’m too tired, Rafe,” you rejected him. “I can’t do this right now.”

“So you’re not even gonna let me explain?”

At the top of the steps, Carter and Topper simultaneously held their breath as they listened, both jumping as Kelce’s voice startled them, “what are we listening to?”

“Shhh,” Carter waved her hand at him, motioning for him to shut up.

Kelce plopped himself between them on the top step, shuffling a bit so they’d make room for him. He listened in, picking up your and Rafe’s raised voices quickly.

“Oh shit,” he barely whispered, “trouble in paradise already?”

“Dude shut up,” Topper cut him off.

Soon, Maddie, Tom and Jack joined the little huddle on the top step, each cluing in on the source of the entertainment in their own disruptive way before being shushed by the group and eventually sitting. You continued your argument with Rafe, completely unaware you were performing in front of a live studio audience.

“You don’t need to explain,” you told him, trudging down the front hall toward the kitchen. “I know exactly what just happened because it’s happened a thousand times before. What I don’t know is why I’m even surprised.”

“Come on,” he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as his large frame rounded you. “It is not the same as it used to be.”

“It’s exactly the same,” you side-stepped him, walking into the kitchen and dropping Carter’s keys on the counter. “I mean jesus Rafe, it’s the same fucking person! I can’t believe I’m here again, it’s like I’m having a nightmare where I’m back in high school. Next thing you know I’m gonna walk into homeroom and I realize I’m completely naked.”

“Sounds more like a dream to me,” he smirked, trying to flirt.

You just blinked back at him, your sharp eyes cutting straight through his head.

“Do you think this is funny?”

His smirk dropped, snatched right off his lips by your ice cold tone. Good. You’d been waiting years to wipe that shit eating grin off his face. 

Something new was rising in your chest, knocking out the embarrassment and sadness with a closed fist, a fury long buried coming back with a vengeance.

“I thought all that shit was behind us, over and done.” Rafe reached out towards you but you stopped him with your own rough grip, lowering his hand away from you and dropping it like he’d dropped yours.

“Oh, it’s fucking done alright, so fucking done,” you spat.

 “You’re really gonna let ten stupid seconds ruin everything that’s happened between us? You’re not even gonna give me the benefit of the doubt. You really think that little of me?”

“It’s literally only been two hours, and you’ve already lied to me once and pushed me away the second someone saw us. And you wonder why I'm having a hard time saying yes to being with you? It’s because I fucking can’t trust you, Rafe!”

“I don’t know what else I can do to show you I’m different,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is so fucking unfair.”

“Are you being fucking serious right now?” You stepped towards him as you snapped at him. “You’re actually pissed at me?”

“Yeah, I am!” 

“Why?”

“Because I lost my best friend!”

Everyone on the top of the stairs winced, air sucked from the room when Rafe raised his voice at you. For all his flaws and mistreatment, he had never raised his voice at you before.

“Oh shit,” Kelce whispered.

“Shhh!” Carter and Maddie hushed him in unison, everyone leaning in a little closer to hear how you’d react. But you said nothing. They couldn’t see the widening of your eyes, jaw locked tight as you gave him space to follow up on his outburst.

“Do you really think it didn’t hurt me when you just up and stopped talking to me back then?” He took the space you gave him and slowly unpacked the hurt feelings he’d buried for years. “I know I was a dick, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of how you felt about me, I shouldn’t have strung you along. But when that shit went down senior year and you just ghosted me, I wanted to talk to you and make it right. I tried, but you blocked me out, you went from talking to me every day to radio silence without giving me a single explanation. That fucking hurt. And you’re doing the exact same thing now, not even giving me a chance to explain things. So yeah, I am a little pissed. I’m pissed that you’re just gonna throw it all away again over nothing.”

He waited for your response with baited breath, prepared for you to yell, or cry, or do something. But you gave him nothing, mouth closed in a tight line as you turned on your heel and walked further into the kitchen, lifting the coffee pot from its home and filling it in the sink.

He watched your back as you scooped the grounds into the filter and turned on the machine. Minutes passed and you remained silent, hands on the counter, looking out the big window towards the ocean while the coffee brewed one drop at a time.

Finally, after eight cups had dripped into the pot, you spoke.

“How was prom, by the way?” You turned to face him, the edge of the marble countertop digging into your waist as you leaned back against it, hands crossed in hostility over your chest. “I never asked.”

Rafe’s gaze fell from you almost instantly. He didn’t have to ask why you were bringing this up, the ‘hell hath no fury’ look on your face dragging the memory forth from its carefully hidden spot in the back of his brain. Nothing made him feel like a jackass quite like that memory, and based on the mocking curve at the corner of your lips, you knew it.

The memory used to keep you up at night. 

For a full year after it happened, it was like a fire poker bent into the shape of regret and shame was branding your heart over and over. 

Now, the burn was healed over, still calloused and red at the edges, but you’d done your best to cover the scar tissue in the healing balms of self-love and lots and lots of therapy. Still, it was the moment in your life you were the least proud of.

You’d thought it was gonna be you. Really, earnestly, completely delusionally, you believed when he asked for your help with his grand prom-posal that it was all a playful ruse to ask you to be his date. You stayed up all night, decorating three different poster boards with glitter glue so he could pick the one he liked best. You bought out all the battery-powered candles at Michael’s - he said he’d pay you back, he never did. You waited with him in the park until the sun set, giddy with the hope that he’d drop the ruse and pop the question any minute.

“What will you do if ‘she’ says no?” You attempted to flirt.

“I guess I’d just have to take you.”

Every muscle in his body flinched at the memory and the white hot regret he felt every time it replayed in his head.

The kid who said those words was such an asshole. Standing here in the kitchen, looking down at you, the love of his goddamn life, and facing the possibility that he might lose you for good, he wanted to ring the idiot’s neck.

Because he hadn’t asked you. He made you watch while he asked her. And he didn’t even give you a ride home from the park.

Fuck, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was you, either.

Rafe felt about two feet tall, looking back at you with absolutely nothing to say. He was relieved for a second when you opened your mouth to speak first, until he heard the words.

“You don’t understand. The voice in the back of my head, the one I’ve spent years trying to silence, the one that tells me I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough…it’s your voice, Rafe.”

He grasped desperately for a reply, but there were no words in the English language that made that statement any less devastating.

“Maybe that’s not fair,” you continued before he could come up with anything, “but I don’t think I have control over that. I don’t know how to undo it, if it can be undone. So those ten seconds that just happened out there? They’re  not nothing to me. When you dropped my hand at the sight of her, I felt like I was that stupid teenage girl again, giving my whole heart to the one person who knows how to break it. Blind and foolish and desperate for you to notice her. I don’t like that girl.”

You made it through the whole speech with a steady voice, up until the last sentence. Your voice cracked on those words, your heart doing the same as you pictured your younger self. The one who would sit on her bed for hours, rereading the texts she sent him and praying he’d reply.

Thinking about that version of yourself, you weren’t sure if you wanted to hug her or slap her. Surely, she’d hit you right back if she saw what you were doing now, potentially pushing away the boy she loved more than anything, finally having him within your grasp and letting him slip right through.

At the top of the stairs, unbeknownst to you, Carter was picturing that girl, too. She would roll her eyes at you back then, using sarcastic comments like “are you sure Rafe even knows how to read?” to mask her truer concern; that he could but he wouldn’t, and the heart you wore on your sleeve would end up crushed again. Even now, she couldn’t protect it, couldn’t save it from reaching out to this boy who did nothing but break it.

Frustration welled inside her, the absolute powerlessness to put an end to this cycle that hurts you feeling like a dark cloud over her head. The anger manifested into hot, watery tears gathering on her lash line. Without permission, one slipped through, rolling down her cheek slowly.

Topper caught the whole thing, and despite their fight and his resolve to freeze her out until she apologized, he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and stroking her cheek softly, wiping the tear away with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

They shared a look so full of unspoken words and tender emotions that they almost forgot about the conversation in the kitchen, until Rafe’s voice cut through the moment and pulled them from their silent reconciliation.

“Are you okay?” He asked you after you’d been silent for nearly a minute, trying desperately to compose yourself.

“Yes, that's all just a lot. I’m processing,” you sniffled.

“Take your time,” he said, pulling out one of the high back stools from the counter and motioning for you to sit in it.

Your body was so exhausted, even your stubborn anger at him couldn’t stop you from accepting the offer. You slumped on the plush stool, folding your arms on the counter and resting your chin on them.

“How do you like your eggs?” Rafe asked.

“Is that a pick-up line?” 

“Nope, just a question,” he said as he opened the high cupboard and pulled out a frying pan.

You tried to remind yourself you should reject his offer to feed you, you should storm out, you should tell him where he can put his frying pan…but you were hungry. And so tired.

“Sunny side up,” you answered.

He nodded and got to work cooking you breakfast, eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove, Rafe close by with a spatula in hand, silent as he stirred and flipped. You rested your head on your folded arms, eyes half-closed and brain sleepy, watching him. 

If you blocked out the last twenty minutes, you could pretend this morning was your real life, could let yourself imagine it really was all this simple and pleasant and sweet; he’d cook you breakfast, you’d make him coffee, and you’d kiss until the sun rose.

At the top of the stairs, Kelce stood and started descending, before Carter reached up and grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?” She whispered.

“I’m hungry!” He whined.

“You can’t go down there,” Maddie scolded him, “give them some space.”

“Are we just gonna stay up here all day?” Tom complained as he and Jack stood to join Kelce’s crusade into the kitchen.

“Everybody sit down!” Topper whisper-yelled. “Give them five fucking minutes, you’ll all survive. You can fuck off back to your rooms if you want but no one’s going down there.”

Carter couldn’t help the heart eyes she made at him, surprised and delighted by his show of aggression in your defense.

Kelce groaned as he backed back down, Tom rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up as he trudged down the hall back to his room, Jack following with a huff.

“Kelce, I have a granola bar in my purse, c’mon,” Maddie offered, leading him towards her own door.

Alone again, Topper and Carter looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

“I know,” he mouthed back.

She scooted towards him, nuzzling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

Downstairs, Rafe was done with your meal, scooping it onto a plate and sliding it to you across the counter.

“Thank you,” you sat up and began nibbling at a slice of bacon.

Rafe took the stool next to you with his own plate of food. You sat in silence for a while, only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional “can you pass the salt?” between you.

Between bites, you rested your head on your arm again, nearly falling asleep.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled sleepily.

“It’s been a long twenty-four hours,” Rafe agreed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“That’s an understatement,” you snorted, sitting up again and finishing the last bite of your eggs.

“What about…the next twenty-four hours?” He asked quietly.

You took a deep breath, the smile falling from your face as you considered the question underneath his question. You didn’t answer him right away, hopping down from the stool and collecting your plate and his, carrying them to the sink. Rafe was quick behind you, arm reaching around and pulling the dishes from your hands to lay them in the sink. His hand rested on your waist, turning you to face him, pulling you in. Reluctantly, and without returned tenderness, you let him.

“Rafe, I can’t…” you said sadly.

“Please just talk to me,” he pleaded, hands running up your arms and resting on your shoulders. You shook your head, blinking away fresh tears as you pulled away from him.

“It hurts too much, Rafe,” your voice cracked. “As great as the last few days have been, you can’t see that being close to you hurts me. I worked so hard to get over you. So this isn’t me throwing it all away, this is me protecting myself. Protecting what I’ve spent years rebuilding.”

“So what, that's it then? You’re just gonna go back to school and pretend this never happened?” The pain in his voice was palpable, and you cursed the part of you that wanted to reach out and make him feel better.

“I don’t know, Rafe,” a small tear slipped through, gliding slowly down your cheek.

“You’re just gonna stop talking to me, stop thinking about me?” He continued desperately.

You looked up at him finally, searching his face, nodding sadly.

“I’ve done it before.”

Hurt flashed in his crystal blue eyes, flinching like your words had burned him. “You didn’t…you don’t…think about me?”

“No,” you told him honestly, another tear joining the one before it. “Never. Because if I let myself think about you, I would’ve fallen apart. I’m not strong enough, I would’ve run to you, and every time I did that before, you’d let me down.”

“What about yesterday? What about this morning? Just think about the beach, everything was so good, it can be that way now…”

He reached out and cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing over the tears as he pulled you in toward him, kissing you out of sheer desperation. Like maybe if you tasted his lips, it’d transport you both back in time, back to the beach, back when he’d done and said everything right. 

You allowed him to take you there for just a second, before the incident on the front walk flashed in your mind again, the pain of rejection like a knife to your gut. You pulled away from him quickly, side stepping him and moving to the other side of the kitchen, creating as much distance between you as possible.

“No, no, you can’t just kiss me and act like what just happened with Cassie didn’t happen,” you shook your head rapidly, wiping your tear stained streaks with the backs of your hands. “I can’t do this right now, I need some time to think.”

It required fighting every impulse he had, but he didn’t push, didn’t close the space between you, didn’t try to regain the control he was so used to having. He just sighed deeply and nodded, eyes low.

“Okay, well let me know when you’re done…thinking.”

With one last longing look at you, he stepped away to the basement steps, stopping at the top and turning halfway toward you.

“Oh and that girl? The one who gave me her heart? For what it’s worth, I like her. Always have.”

With that, he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

Carter and Topper could hear you approach the bottom of the steps. Carter stood first, fully ready to greet you and grill you on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Topper could see all her questions and comments written on her face. He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, stopping her before she marched down the stairs towards you. She looked at him in surprise but understood quickly as he gave her a slight shake of his head, whispering, “give her some space.”

Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to lead her quietly down the hall and into his room.

Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs, body aching. Your brain was so fried you couldn’t even pick one thing from the morning to focus on, like the part of your brain that processes events was temporarily out of order. So you stopped trying to think and just let your feet carry you to your bed, crawling under the covers in your clothes, falling quickly into a restless slumber.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

In your dreams, you were back in the kitchen with him, shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence as you did the dishes together. Rafe washed and you dried. 

Only, it wasn’t the beach house kitchen, it was one you’d never been in before. And in that dream-state way of knowing something you don’t actually know, you were sure it was a kitchen the two of you shared, sometime in the distant, unwritten future.

(to be continued)

a/n: I'm so sorry, I had to do it.......also the prom thing may or may not be based on a true story and I may or may not have cried writing it....

also I’m sick and tired so I didn’t edit much sorry for typos!

please note: the taglist for this series is closed. For updates when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3

friendly reminder that writers live off of reblogs, don’t forget to feed your faves! 💘

[dreamscapeee222]

OHello, I hope you are well, I was looking at your blog and I loved your writing style <3

Can I ask for a scenario with Arcane characters where the reader is Isekai? Like he knows everything that will happen in the series and is actively avoiding the events that will cause serious problems

Thank you in advance

A/n: Hello :) Thank you so much !! Ooh this is something I've never really done before. I've tried my best and I hope it suits what you had in mind <3

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

When you first arrive in Piltover, Vi notices how you’re more guarded, more careful than she’s ever seen you. At first, she doesn’t understand why, but when you slip up and mention something that hasn’t happened yet, she starts to get suspicious.

You're always trying to avoid certain people, certain places. The dangerous ones. She picks up on it, and it’s a little unsettling at first, like you know too much about the future. But she doesn’t ask—you’ve got your own reasons.

She starts to trust you more, though. Maybe you don’t tell her everything, but she can tell when you’re genuinely trying to keep her safe. When things get tense, and she’s about to charge in headfirst (like always), you pull her back. “Not this time,” you say, and she just listens. You’ve seen how these moments turn out, and she trusts you enough not to question it.

It’s not just about saving her anymore. You’ve got a whole new layer of connection. When she’s caught off guard, when she needs reassurance, your presence calms her, like you’re already a step ahead of what’s coming. You’re the one she turns to when things feel uncertain, because you’re the one who’s already lived through it.

Jinx

She knows something’s off about you, but she doesn’t care. At first, the randomness of your actions makes her laugh—avoiding certain fights, dodging obvious traps, steering clear of people she knows you don’t want to be around.

But then, when things start to get real, and you stop her from making a massive mistake—again, and again—she starts to feel it. You’re not just avoiding danger for the fun of it; you're trying to change the course of things. And, honestly, she’s scared.

You’re always pulling her away from situations, keeping her out of the chaos before it even begins. She hates it, but she also loves it, because in some twisted way, you’re saving her from herself.

The more time you spend together, the more she realizes she needs you. When the madness swells inside of her, and she can’t keep the craziness in check, you’re the one who calms her down. It’s not like she’d admit it, but it’s your presence that’s holding her together in a way no one else can. And, in a strange way, she starts to rely on you—not for fixing things, but for knowing exactly when things can’t be fixed, and when it’s okay to pull back.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s more methodical than the others, but she’s no stranger to sensing when something’s off. You’ve mentioned things before, offhandedly—nothing too direct, but enough to make her question. You know things, things that haven’t happened yet.

She watches you closely, your movements, the way you take certain routes, steer clear of certain areas, and try to talk people down from fights before they escalate. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before, but there’s something different about you.

When things start going south—like, really south—she turns to you. “You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?” It’s not an accusation. It’s a quiet plea, because even Caitlyn, with all her careful planning, knows that sometimes fate is too big to outsmart.

You never tell her everything, but you don’t have to. In those moments of danger, when things feel out of control, she just trusts you. The way you guide her through the mess, calm her down when she wants to rush into something she knows will go wrong... it’s something she never realized she needed.

Ekko

Ekko always feels like he’s on the edge of something. He’s used to being a step ahead, but when you show up in his life—aware of things that haven’t happened yet—it’s like someone just dropped a stone in his perfect, planned world.

You’re always telling him to hold off on certain plans, and at first, he brushes it off. Then, when he sees how much better things turn out when he listens—when you steer him away from a fight, or when you help him avoid a trap—it gets harder for him to ignore the fact that you might know more than you let on.

He doesn’t say much about it. But there’s a subtle shift in the way he looks at you. He’s learning to trust your judgment, even when it goes against his instincts. Because he’s seen it. You’re keeping him safe. And somewhere deep down, he’s grateful, even if he’ll never admit it out loud.

Jayce

Jayce is all about forward momentum. He wants to believe that everything can be fixed, that they can change the world without the same mistakes being repeated. But you’re always holding him back.

There’s no question—you’ve seen it. You know where things go wrong, and you’re actively steering him away from it. The first time you call him out for heading toward a decision that’s going to end badly, he’s annoyed. He wants to argue. But when you look him in the eye, when you don’t back down, it stirs something in him.

As much as he wants to figure things out on his own, he can’t deny that you’re saving him from making the same mistakes. And slowly, when things begin to spiral, he starts to trust you. Not just as someone who knows, but as someone who cares. He’s never been one to lean on someone for help, but when you’re beside him, he finds himself relying on you more and more.

You’re the one who teaches him to think before acting—slow down, take a breath, and listen.

Viktor

Viktor’s not the type to be surprised easily. But when you start actively steering him away from certain people, situations, and plans, he starts to wonder. You’ve seen things. Things that haven’t happened yet.

At first, he tries to brush it off, thinking that maybe you’ve just got some uncanny instincts. But when you pull him away from something disastrous, and things go exactly the way you warned him about, he can’t pretend anymore.

You don’t say much. You don’t need to. But he starts to rely on your quiet guidance, the way you understand his hesitation before he even knows what’s coming. When the future starts to feel inevitable, you’re the one thing in his life that feels like a choice.

He doesn’t say it, but he’s grateful for you—more than he can express. You give him a sense of control over his own fate, something that’s been slipping through his fingers for so long.

Mel

Mel is the calmest of them all. She’s used to thinking ahead, playing the long game, and making careful decisions. But when she meets you, when she sees you quietly avoiding certain situations, people, and places, she starts to wonder if maybe you’ve seen things she hasn’t.

You never say much about your knowledge, but you never need to. She watches how you act around her—how you prevent things from spiraling, how you guide her through situations that could have ended terribly.

She’s not one to let others have control over her life, but she starts to trust you in ways she didn’t expect. She never asks you about the future directly, but when things start to get tense, she’s always looking at you first. You have a way of calming her, of knowing what to do before it even happens.

And, though she’d never admit it, she finds herself leaning on you more. Because you’re the only one who makes the future feel like something she can still control.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy

I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.

Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –

NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.

It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –

Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.

By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.

The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?

Absolutely.

Do I know why?

Absolutely not.

Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.

Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).

In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.

Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.

Moving along…

On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.

I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”

By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.

Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.

But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.

Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?

Oh, that’s right, because they were.

Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.

I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.

After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.

I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.

Me: “So what do you think?”

Dad: “About what?”

Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”

Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”

Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”

Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”

Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”

Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”

Thanks, Dad.

You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).

Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.

First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.

Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.

Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.

Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.

Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.

Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?

Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.

Uhh… Huh. Interesting.

I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.

But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.

Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.

Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?

So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.

That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.

[carbonfiction]

Dark Desires

older, best friends dad!Logan x reader

summary: a week ago you found yourself drunk texting your best friends dad; something that should've been a mistake, but you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would know everything you'd kept from him all those years. You'd been thinking about it for longer than you'd care to admit; adding to the fantasy. so what happens when logan finally indulges you..

warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, F!Receiving oral, PIV smut, prone bone and missionary, Somnophilla (technically??), daddy kink, roleplay?? pussy sniffing?? Kind of voyeurism? But the person is very much asleep. Also tagging this for dubcon but it’s more pre established consent/free use and slight CNC vibes depending on how you view it? Tagged this the best i believe i can but ultimately you are responsible for your media consumption.

A/N: i don't know where this came from, other than i had a glass of wine and a naughty thought. i tried real hard on this and its a little darker than i usually write- not to mention longer- but i hope yall enjoy a filth filled piece of my intoxicated brain anyway. Et voilà.

Masterlist Words: little over 4k (oop- longest thing ive ever written.. i got carried away..)

Your heart is hammering away inside of your chest so insistently that it feels like your ribs are bruised and your breasts are trying to punch their way out of your dress.

You're still wearing the stupid thing and Laura is drinking another mimosa. Part of you is grateful for that. Yet while you want her drunk and snoring tonight, part of you can't help trying to stop her.

You make eye contact, give her the look. Tell her to slow down because you two have been down this road before. She gets wild, has fun for half an hour, and then spends the rest of the night dizzy in a bathroom asking deep philosophical questions like why do my eyes hurt? And why do guys suck? And do i still have puke in my hair?

But if she's drunk tonight, just enough to sleep like the dead, then what?

You set your own drink aside to check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time this hour and lift a shaky thumb to your texts.

You've read the thread again and again and again, and still you don't quite believe it. The party swirls around you. A hurricane of sound and the smell of cocktails is sour in your nose. You feel the heat of your friends, your fellow graduates. one day lawyers, doctors, professors, professionals in their field; and yet here you are reading over the texts again.

You feel like a little girl and yet simultaneously the most grown of women because you have a secret, a dirty little secret.

You were nearly as drunk as Laura is now when you sent the first text a week ago. You were celebrating the end of finals and you were curled up in bed after a long night out.

One of your other friends had flirted with the bartender. You'd told the girl to stop and Laura had reached from her stool and pinched your leg. Asking if you'd ever needed something so badly that you actually made a bad decision.

Everyone had laughed, all except you.

You know she was teasing and complimenting in the same breath. You're a good girl and everybody knows it. Reliable, honest and never involved with the wrong kind of guys.. Always a reason to why you were too busy to bother. You were studying, too busy hanging out with Laura. Too busy prepping for school, internships and the next two decades of your life.

You're no angel, although of course, no one was. You've had your share of regrettable hookups and disappointing boyfriends, but nothing that set your world alight. Nothing worth risking anything for.

But maybe what Laura had said thread under your skin more than you'd like to admit. Maybe you were just drunk enough to ignore the obvious risk.. Or was it that you'd been thinking about him for an indecently long amount of time?

So with finals over, diploma practically in hand. There was nothing preventing years of pent up lust from sending a jolt down between your legs, setting a crackling fire in your heart and making you sweat. Dripping down your neck, stomach, that spot on your lower back, they all tingled as you crouched on the corner of your bed and wrote a single text.

You: I need something.

You sent it. Had forced yourself to before you chickened out and immediately regretted it. You thought you'd worded it in such a way that you could play it off, pretend it didn't happen.

But you were sure in that drunken moment that Logan would read those three words and know everything you'd kept from him all those years. Every dirty thought, every horny fantasy, everything.

It was all right there in the text. 2am on a Thursday night and truly it could only mean one thing. You put the phone down, tried to make yourself go to sleep.

Logan was an older man with a life. A job, house and a child- your best friend- and you were sure he wouldn't even see the stupid thing until the morning when you could say you meant to message Laura. Not him, not her father. But then you picked up the phone again, half panicked and ready to change your mind, when you'd saw those little dots.

That meant he was writing something back, at 2am on a Thursday night, either in bed or his limo.

Logan: You need to go to sleep

Of course.. Responsible. That was the responsible thing to do. And you would do just that. But first you'd just write a quick text to apologize. Say it was the wrong number and sleep this off; pretend it didn't happen for the rest of your lives.

But.. what if, for once in your life, it could be easy? What if Logan did know everything? What if.. There was something else? Because that was how this all started, hadn't it?

You'd always felt something more, saw something different in his worn eyes, his gruff demeanor. Heard something he was saying when he really wasn't saying anything at all.

Or.. Was it all in your head? Was this only ever a one way infatuation? A young woman's crush, a dark fantasy that only grew darker with each new kink you discovered in yourself? Losing all confidence, you texted back.

You: sorry. Wrong number.

And that was that- or it should've been that- If it was only ever a one way street. You put the phone down, tried desperately to keep your eyes closed, but the moment you heard the phone buzz again you peek.

Logan: Is that true sweetheart?

Oh no, no. it wasn't true at all. You knew he knew exactly who'd texted and why; what you wanted him to do. You'd been thinking about it for years. Adding to the fantasy. Soaking your sheets in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep, all that brought a temporary relief. If only for a little while; So, you text back.

You: No

Just that. A simple No.

Logan: You telling a lie?

You: Not exactly

Logan: So you wanted my attention then?

You: Wanted? No Logan.. Need.

And yes, you know need is a very strong word.

Logan: You feel very strongly about that huh? Strong feelings can be dangerous sweetheart.

You: what if i want something dangerous.

You answered back with the most honest thing you could say. And then there was a pause, a very long pause, in which you could see no dots, and even started to wonder if he'd abandoned you. Left you on read.

A thousand images erupted in your mind, different versions of him sitting and staring at your number- your words. Those cheap reading glasses perched on his nose as he wondered if this was some kind of game.

But if it was a game.. Logan was ready to play and after a few minutes your phone dings again.

Logan: you're being a real bad girl tonight, aren't you?

And then it wasn't your best friend's father you were texting. Well, it very much was- that was the crux of it, wasn't it? But now it was also the man. The man on the other side of the phone who was paying close attention.

You: Yes, daddy. very, very bad.

Now, In the darkness of his daughter's room, You imagine colors swirling on her ceiling. Your heart restless like a caged animal and there is a knot in your stomach twisting tighter and tighter by the second.

You don't know how long you've been lying here. 5 minutes or 5 hours. But you know you can't possibly wait another moment... But then you do, because you have to.

You haven't heard from Logan all day and that makes you afraid. Really genuinely afraid that He's forgotten or changed his mind.

Because, well, it's just you and Laura in here, isn't it? You're lying on the floor, a lumpy pillow under your head, and a spare, slightly musty blanket folded under your breasts.

Laura is snoring away in her bed, her limbs tangled with a stuffed animal almost the size of her- one you'd won her from a carnival. It was like old times, she slurred drunkenly. The three of you huddled together in her bed, giggling and watching some crappy reality show.

She'd tried to get you to join her and the animal in the bed, but you'd said no. Insisted that it was too hot tonight. That you'd rather be able to spread out on the floor. Fortunately, by the time you made it up to Laura's room, she was too far gone to argue.

Unfortunately, now though, there's a very drunk girl in her bed beside you, a possible witness to your depravity. And so you lie there, staring at the ceiling and forcing yourself not to text. Not to call. To just ignore the nagging doubt in your gut.

And yet again, you still find yourself opening the text thread. Reading through the things you told him, the things he'd told you. A formed plan and line after line of you promising things. All of the 'Yes, daddy I want this' the 'Please do that to me' The repetitive 'ill be a good girl, Promise' And then, at the very bottom, a safe word. It was when you'd agreed on the safe word that you knew this was for real. Not a fiction in a book or a fantasy playing out in a movie.

The word. Kitty. An inside joke from years ago. The word proof that all the little confidences and conversations held an attraction you were both willing to hide for the sake of decency

But.. you don't want to be decent anymore. You'd confided your fantasy, one that you had dreamt so many nights. Wished for it in the hot, comfortable haven of Laura's bed every time you'd stayed over. The thought of her older, attractively gruff father coming to you in the night and making you submit to his secret lust.

Of him pulling your panties to the side while Laura slept untroubled. Logan ravishing you while you whispered and mewled 'please, daddy, make me your filthy slut'

You've always been his filthy slut, haven't you? Deep In your heart. The thought is turning the wet spot between your legs into a soggen menace. You've been horny before, You've been needy before, but never like this- because you've never tried something like this.

Never wanted something badly enough to ask for it; or even beg for it. This was a dream, a dirty desire, a secret yearning never to be true.

Then you'd drunk texted. You told him and he'd responded, not with shock or disgust, but enthusiasm, cautious enthusiasm. But it was still only text messages. You haven't spoken to him yet, not properly at least. Even when you saw him walk in at the party, or in the limo on the way back to Laura's. You couldn't bring yourself to say a word. Your mouth was so dry, cheeks so hot. Laura had laughed and said you were flushed in the backseat- a lightweight to end all lightweights- when in fact you haven't had a drop to drink tonight.

You're going to throw your phone at the wall, you swear it. But No, that would probably wake her up. Instead, you conclude that you're going to find your pants, and you're going to leave this house and never come back. You love Laura but you can't bear it, can't believe you trusted him with this. You can't lie here and torment yourself about your decisions a minute longer about your need.

Then, your heart leaps into your throat. phone dropping onto your chest with a soft thud. Quickly you brush it off and turn onto your stomach. Your head hitting the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and pulse racing like you've run a marathon.

Through your closed eyelids, you see the glow of the hall light from the open door, only for it to vanish moments later. Either the door has closed or the light's been turned off, but you're not sure which because blood is racing so loudly in your ears. Breath escaping in overwhelming gasps.

Do you hear calculated heavy footsteps or is that your imagination? You struggle to listen for Laura. Is she awake or still sleeping? The tension so tight in your chest that you begin to feel dizzy, almost nauseous. Then comes the creak of the floor at the foot of your makeshift bed, the unmistakable presence of another person in the room, their eyes on you.

You can't stop your body from trembling slightly as the sheet is softly yanked away. Adrenaline courses through your veins, making your body buzz with anticipation.

Your legs are bare the cool air of Laura's bedroom. You're laying on your stomach. Face pushed into the pillow, eyes clenched shut as if you're locked into a deep, drunken sleep- like you should be.

Your legs are splayed out, dark lacey panties riding up the crevice of your ass. One of your ass cheek's indecently exposed... then a rough touch caresses over the swell of that exposed cheek, two big exploring hands, gliding over you.

You hear the grunt of a man, and you know it can only be Logan. He's the only other person home.

Your heart is beating so hard you're afraid you're going to pass out. Laura is on the bed, sleeping mere feet away, and her father is groping you in your supposed sleep.

So the question becomes: are you dreaming now? or are you praying this is as far as he'll go?

when Logan pull's the fabric of your panties to the side, you know he's willing to go much further. He's quiet in the darkness around you, but he's big and the house is old; the floor creaking and groaning as he readjust's his heavy weight.

Your panties are roughly hiked over one cheek of your ass, the sound of ripping lace filling your ears. Logan's hot breath roll's over your ass and the tremble in your limbs becomes a full shiver.

You can feel his scruffy face so close to your body, Feel his nose against the crevice of your ass as he roves lower. Dipping further until his mouth- his nose - is pressed into the folds of your bared cunt.

You hear how he inhales deeply, toes curling in response. Your fingers lay over Laura's spare pillow, the case tight in your grip. He's smelling you, nuzzling against your dampening skin not once, but many times. Lewdly breathing in your scent like a dog that's found something it likes.

His calloused hands spread you open so he can breathe deeper still and when hes as deep into your cunt as his face will allow, his wet tongue slides out to lick at you. You cannot stifle your moan at the feeling, immediately biting your lip to keep from growing any louder.

But with this the culmination of so many fevered late night fantasies, you dont know if you are dreaming.

His wide tongue laps at your swollen clit, swiping open the seam of your pussy and to the point just shy of your tighter hole. You hear logan growl into your wet slit like a monster unleashed from beneath the bed. Feeling how how his licks grow stronger, longer and twice as ravenous as he steadily turn your pussy into a drooling, dripping mess.

He laps at you in the quiet darkness of Laura's room, calculated and experienced as you fight to not to cry out. The pressure of an impending orgasm building so tight in your body that it feels time you woke up.

And so you take a deep breath, a rough gasped sound falling out too. Your fingers claw at the pillow as you flex your lower half.

"Hmm?"You grumble, pretending to bat away the cobwebs of sleep. "Wha-whats happening, What are you doing?" You ask, voice thick with mock confusion.

Within moments you feel Logan's tongue retreat from your pussy, a weight so much heavier than your own crawl over your half naked body. You feel him pressed tight against you, still clothed if the scratchy fabric tells you anything, but an unmistakable bulge is hidden inside. Hard and large against your ass you feel Logan's arm rub against your shoulder. A big hand sliding over your mouth.

"Quiet, sweetheart" he growls in your ear. "Daddy's had enough of your teasing"

Another large hand slides beneath your sleep shirt to cup your tender tits, The nipples diamond hard against Logan's palm. You cant help but moan into his hand as you plead.

"Please. Didn't mean to tease" its a wine, petulant in tone.

"Course you didnt.. Shame S' Too late now" he whispers against your ear, teeth biting into your earlobe. The hand on your breast trails down. Right the way down to his slacks.

"B-but Laura" You warn him in a whispered panic, hearing the sound of a zipper sliding down. you struggle teasingly, hips bucking back against him. Its not enough to cause a scene or enough to wake your sleeping friend- his sleeping daughter- but just enough to make him pin your body down. Enough for you to feel a fraction of his real strength.

Logan's muscles bulge from the effort of caging you against the floor and spreading your legs.

"Nuh uh, Stay still. Stay right where ive got you" he murmurs darkly in your ear, voice a low rumble. the words fire through you like liquid lightning as you bite into his palm, not to fight but to restrain a high pitched moan that you fear could wake the neighbors- not just Laura.

"nothing you can do now sweetheart, just gotta take it" Logan says and you hear the mocking smile in the words, feel the throb of his thick cock as it emerges from the confines of his pants. "Kept telling me you were a good girl, so show me"

With your stomach flat against the ground, legs spread wide beneath him, you can do nothing but tremble as his cock slips between your legs. The cock belonging to your best friend's father sliding deliciously across that little bundle of nerves that sparks a whimper of pleasure.

Your eyes roll back as Logans hips buck, cock brushing your clit again, running up and down your slit torturously slow. "fuuuck, you feel that? How hard you've got my cock?"

You're kicking your legs now, moving your hips. It could be viewed as a struggle but its not, not really, you're just so desperately excited you can't keep still.

"Don't need to fight me baby. Just let daddy in hm? let it happen sweetheart."

And then he's pushing inside your body in one heavy thrust; slow and impossibly deep. The weight of him inside your cunt making you mewl against his palm. All the years of secret yearning, wet fantasies and subtle flirtations have all led to this moment.

It doesn't take many thrusts before your tongue is rolling out of your mouth, licking wetly against his palm like a grateful dog- a bitch in heat. You try to use it to muffle the moan that follows, a pitiful sound mixed with pleasure, like you're ashamed to be in the situation.

Used and humiliated around logans cock.

Its push followed by retreat, a half thrust and then withdrawal over and over. "So fucking tight" Logan growls as you wiggle your ass, not certain if your trying to squirm further in to his grip or out.

He's stretching your walls apart, the burn of his size delicious with each heavy he offers. Each bringing a pulsing throb on your clit. "Yeaaaa, that's it, take it like a good girl.." he groans. "S' what you wanted isn't it."

Logans right, this is exactly what you wanted and more. His body trembles atop yours from the exertion, balls squeezed against your ass, his hand on and off clenching around your breast. His thrusts picking up in pace as you struggle and squirm to keep quiet even under his palm

"L-logan" you whimper as he pushes particularly deep, pussy squelching lewdly from your arousal, his hand barley muffling the word. He knows your close before you do, can feel your cunt clenching desperately.

"Getting fucked so good your gonna cum sweetheart?" he rasps in your ear, panting into it. "C'mon, tell daddy how good his cock feels."

"S-so good.. F-fuck yes daddy, please"

You whine and It is a struggle to pry his strong hand off your mouth to get the words out.

"Go on sweetheart. Cum, coat my fuckin cock. Show me this cute little pussy is mine"

and then his big hand clamps back over your lips as he begins to fuck you into the floor. Your orgasm crashes over you in burning waves. Every stroke becoming an ecstatic agony, overstimulation starting to buzz over your bones. Its a constant struggle to hold your moans and neither of you can move properly for the risk of waking Laura .

But Logans hips remain unrelenting, Fucking you prone on your friends floor. His balls swinging, swatting unbearably at your clit with every entry. The heat of him and being trapped against the floor is almost unbearable, but so is having to keep your whimpers quiet. sweat beads hot on your brow

you can hear his own desperate attempts at staying quiet. Broken only by muffled groans, grunts of exertion, and primal chesty growls as your cunt clenches wetly around him.

Yet the discomfort of overstimulation is no match for the absolute bliss of your submission. Your toes curling so hard you're on the verge of a cramp.

The friction between your clit, Logan's cock and the floor builds to an intolerable pressure. Something must give way. The temptation to lose all control and scream his name too great. Now that possibility of you blacking out is too dangerous to ignore. So you say it the word.

"Kitty!"

Not because you want to, but because in this moment you have to. Almost as soon as the word leaves your lips and sinks into the pillow, wet from saliva and tears, you feel his body shudder. muscles seizing while a heavy groan sounding out into the skin of your neck.

"you okay?" he pants softly worry creasing his brow. "Was it too much?"

Your wordless and it worries him. Making him pull back, cock slipping free with a hushed hiss as he helps you shift onto your back, so he can look at you properly.

Your hands rise, fingers caressing his scruffy cheeks. "M'okay" you pant, eyes on him. "wasn't too much. Promise."

No, in fact, It was just right- before it all overwhelmed you that is. Now? now you just want to hold him, make love to him. Hold onto something- someone that isn't really yours. Eye to eye, your mouth slides back over his, legs spread back open, ready to welcome his length back inside. Without a word you buck your hips down, beckoning him to fuck you again.

Things are much quieter this time. Pace slowed to deep grinds rather than shallow thrusts, pleasure once again coiling in your gut as you lean up to watch his cock disappear inside.

"Feel so good sweetheart, my good girl" he coos, lips against yours as his hand slips back to cup your breast. "My good girl with a fuckin perfect body"

You keep your eyes on logan, blissful smile across your face, and for this moment he's not your best friends father. Not with the way he's gazing down at you with a mixture of lust and long held affection. "always wanted you" he whispers, hand moving back from your breast to cup your cheek. "But I would have kept that secret forever.."

You squeeze him to your chest, heart stuttering at the admission as you lock your arms behind his neck, legs tight around logans waist. You whimper back his name, a plea on your tongue.

"Want you to cum logan.. Please, need to feel it"

You want it more than anything, to feel his cum pushed inside you; for it to drip out later as a downright filthy reminder. You kiss his neck, then cheek, and finally his lips. You want Logan to claim you right here on the floor, right under her nose and you know it makes you a bad friend. Your eyes roll back, hands clawing down his chest as you feel yourself giving up all thought to the rush that flows down the center of your body. The one that begins and ends in the wet, sticky place between your legs, Where the sensitive bud of your clit pulses like a dying star.

it's then he growls much too loud, and you respond back in a whimper, lips pressing tight as you cum together in panted kisses. Him pumping hot heady ropes of cum inside your cunt without reservation or regret as you clench in a vice grip around him.

Tomorrow you will be sore, you know it for a fact. But Tonight.. Tonight You can revel in a fantasy made flesh, your flesh and Logans wrapped around each tight. You drag weak fingers down through his damp hair, then his back, feeling the way his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Logans panting has subsided by now, breaths no longer crackling besides your ear. He plants mouthy kisses at the juncture of your neck, ever so gently, like a sated wolf nuzzling at the muzzle of his mate. You giggle quietly as those kisses grow fiercer, teeth nipping at your neck.

"my good, great, naughty girl" he murmurs against your skin, voice soft. "you feeling okay sweetheart? sure it wasn't too much?"

You nod and he can feel the enthusiasm seep from the move as you grasp his face again. "Mhm, better than okay. Was perfect" you hum sleeplily, content in his hold, in the scent of him. Your eyes flutter, lashes tickling his cheeks as you kiss him long and deep, until the rub of his beard hurts your face and sleep begins to take you under.

You both know tonight was the culmination of so many fevered dreams. The breaking point of lust and its power that can't be fully expressed in words. So he holds you close- just as you do him in your rest- for a little while longer, until light begins to filter soft through the curtains and the reality of what you'd both done really begins to set in.

thats it!! lemme know what you thought anddddd yea! asks are always open to shoot the shit, drabbles and more! <333

[nhlclover]

AFTERGLOW RYAN LEONARD

pairing: fem!reader x ryan leonard

summary: a misunderstanding drives you to a island of isolation, making you question yours and ryan's relationship.

warnings: mentions of cheating/unfaithfulness, self-isolation, crying

wc: 2.34k

notes: based on 'afterglow' by taylor swift. i love me some angst with a happy ending😋

You hadn’t meant to see it. That’s what you told yourself over and over again. It wasn’t snooping. 

His phone had lit up beside you on the couch while Ryan was in the kitchen getting drinks. It was instinct, really — just a glance at the sudden brightness in your peripheral vision. But your eyes betrayed you, catching enough of the notification to make your chest tighten.

Brooke Last night was fun! Let’s do it again soon :)

The name hung in your mind, unfamiliar and somehow venomous. Brooke. Not a classmate he’d mentioned, not one of the guys’s girlfriends. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself that Ryan was the most solid, trustworthy man you’d ever known, but curiosity — or was it paranoia? — itched beneath your skin.

You quickly stood, frantically gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag. You called out to Ryan, telling him you weren’t feeling well and you were going to head back to your dorm. He’d rushed out of the kitchen, catching you just as you were shoving your feet in your boots. 

“A-are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine, just need some rest,” you reassured him, hoping he’d buy your flimsy excuse. The door was open and shut, with you on the other side before Ryan could ask another question. 

The spiral began as soon as you left his apartment. Every glance at your phone felt like a reminder of what you hadn’t asked, hadn’t confronted. You replayed every moment of your relationship in your mind, searching for signs you might have missed. Had he seemed distant? Had he started texting more? Was he pulling away from you?

It wasn’t deliberate at first — not entirely. You told yourself you just needed time to think, to calm down, to process. But each day stretched into the next, the unanswered texts piling up. Hey, is something wrong? turned into Did I do something? and finally Can we please talk? Your heart broke a little more with every message you ignored.

You stopped going to his games, too — a first since you’d started dating. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in the stands, watching him skate across the ice, wondering if Brooke was sitting somewhere else in the crowd. The thought of it all felt insurmountable. So you stayed home, your own guilt a quiet, gnawing threat.

Ryan’s friends noticed. Of course they did. You’d all become close since you and Ryan started dating, and the change in your behaviours and your absence from games was glaring. Practices were off — Ryan was missing passes, his shots lacked precision, and his usual easy laughter in the locker room was conspicuously absent.

Gabe had always been the observant one, the kind of guy who noticed when something was off long before anyone else caught on. So it didn’t surprise you when he showed up at the library one afternoon, a concerned look etched into his usually easygoing face.

He slid into the seat across from you, ignoring the pile of books and papers scattered in front of you. You tried to put on a smile, but it felt weak, forced.

“How’s it going?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m fine,” you replied, the words coming out automatically. You were fine. You just needed to figure things out, that’s all. You forced yourself to focus on the open textbook in front of you, but Gabe wasn’t buying it.

Gabe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know that’s not true,” he said bluntly. “And before you say anything, I’m not here to grill you or get in the middle of anything. But Ryan’s a mess.”

That got your attention. You looked up, heart thudding uncomfortably in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“He’s barely talking to anyone. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. And on the ice?” Gabe shook his head. “He’s not Ryan. He’s off—like, really off. It’s like his head’s not in the game at all.”

Guilt twisted in your stomach, sharp and unrelenting. “I didn’t mean for—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Gabe said. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. And it’s none of my business. But I do know Ryan’s not the kind of guy who lets just anything mess him up like this. He cares about you. A lot.”

You finally let out a shaky breath, trying to steady your emotions. “I found a message on his phone. From someone named Brooke.”

Gabe’s expression morphed into confusion. “Brooke?” he repeated, frowning. “Who the hell is that?”

You shook your head, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard him mention her. And the message... it felt... off. Like something was going on that I didn’t know about.”

Gabe’s brow furrowed as he processed your words. “But Ryan? I can’t see him doing that to you. He’s... he’s not like that. Trust me.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you whispered, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “I can’t just ignore it, Gabe.”

Gabe sat back, tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. “Look, I don’t have all the answers, but you need to talk to him. Maybe there’s a reason for all this. Maybe there’s something you don’t know. But shutting him out isn’t going to help either of you.”

You felt torn. You wanted to believe Gabe, to believe in Ryan and the love you shared. But part of you was terrified of confronting him, of facing the possibility that your fears were real.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Gabe studied you for a long moment before leaning forward again, his voice steady but insistent. “You can. You’re stronger than you think, and this — whatever it is — it’s eating both of you alive. Friendsgiving is at my place, Wednesday night. Ryan’s going to be there, and so are you. No excuses.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Gabe raised a hand to stop you. “I’m serious. You don’t even have to talk to him there if you’re not ready. But seeing each other in person? That’s the first step. Take it.”

The next evening, you found yourself hesitating on the porch of Gabe’s house, the soft hum of laughter and conversation drifting out through the windows. Your stomach churned with nerves as you clutched the bottles of wine you brought, the glass cool and grounding against your fingers. You hadn’t seen Ryan in weeks. You didn’t even know how to begin to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

Before you could turn and flee, Gabe opened the door, grinning like he’d been waiting for you. “There she is! Get in here, we’re just getting started.”

The warmth of the house wrapped around you as you stepped inside, your heart pounding. The inside was warm and chaotic in the way only Friendsgiving could be — mismatched chairs pulled around a too-small table, dishes precariously balanced in a potluck array, laughter and voices overlapping in the candlelight.

You caught sight of Ryan the moment you stepped through the door, standing near the kitchen with a beer in hand. His eyes met yours briefly, widening in surprise. He looked tired — pale, shadows under his eyes, and his usual easy confidence replaced by something far more hesitant. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Jacob intercepted him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a conversation.

Throughout dinner, you found yourself hyper-aware of Ryan’s presence at the opposite end of the table. Occasionally, your eyes would meet, but neither of you spoke. He seemed quieter than usual, laughing at jokes that didn’t quite reach his eyes and pushing food around his plate more than eating it.

After dinner, you ushered everyone into the living room, volunteering to handle the dishes. Your offer was driven partly by a desire to help and partly by a need for a quiet moment to collect your thoughts. A few protested, but you insisted, retreating to the kitchen before anyone could argue further. The rhythmic sound of running water and clinking plates was soothing, a brief respite from the tension.

You didn’t hear Ryan approach at first. It wasn’t until his voice, quiet and hesitant, broke the silence that you turned.

“Need a hand?” Ryan’s voice was quiet, almost tentative.

You glanced over your shoulder. He was standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking at you like he was afraid you might tell him to leave. After a beat, you nodded. “Sure.”

Ryan stepped closer, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and taking his place beside you at the sink. For a while, neither of you spoke, the clink of dishes and the rush of water filling the silence. You stole glances at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed weighed down.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “I don’t know what I did, but… whatever it is, I’m sorry.” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “And I know I should know what I did wrong, but I’ve wracked my brain and I just don’t know what I did. But please tell me… let me fix whatever I did.”

You gripped the dishcloth tightly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. Ryan had always been the kind of person to face things head-on, but hearing the crack in his voice—seeing the way his shoulders slumped like he’d been carrying the world—broke something inside you.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice trembling. “I—God, I’ve been such a mess, Ryan. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was push you away.”

Ryan paused, setting the plate he was drying onto the counter. His eyes searched your face, a mix of confusion and hurt. “Protecting yourself from what?”

You swallowed hard, knowing there was no turning back now. “I saw a message. On your phone. From someone named Brooke. It said, ‘Last night was fun. Let’s do it again soon.’ And I — I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know who she was or what it meant, and instead of asking you, I let it get to me.”

Confusion flickered across his face, then realization. “Brooke?” he repeated. “That’s — God, that’s nothing. She’s my mom’s friend’s daughter. She just started at Boston College, and my mom asked me to show her around. That’s all it was, I swear.”

His words came out in a rush, like he needed you to understand, like he needed to erase every doubt that had built up in your mind. “We grabbed coffee, and I showed her some places on campus. That’s it. I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I didn’t mention it. I never meant for it to come across as something… more.”

Your throat tightened as his explanation sank in. “So… you’re not—”

“No,” Ryan said firmly, stepping closer. “I’m not cheating on you. I would never, ever do that to you.”

The weight you’d been carrying for weeks suddenly felt unbearable, tears springing to your eyes before you could stop them. “Ryan, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I should’ve come to you. I should’ve trusted you. God, I’m so fucking stupid. I got inside my own head and I-I hurt you.”

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. His hands found yours, damp from the soapy water. “You didn’t ruin anything. Yeah, it hurt, but I get it. I just wish you’d come to me instead of dealing with it on your own.”

“I was scared,” you admitted, tears spilling over. “Scared of losing you, scared of finding out I wasn’t enough.”

Ryan’s grip on your hands tightened, his thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable softness in it, a warmth that wrapped around your heart. “You are enough,” he said firmly. “You’ve always been enough. You’re all I want. Nothing — no one — could ever change that.”

Tears streamed freely down your face now, but Ryan didn’t seem to care. He released one of your hands and reached up to gently wipe the tears away with his thumb. “I was so stupid,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I should have trusted you. I should have talked to you instead of running away.”

Ryan shook his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. “Hey, we all mess up. Relationships aren’t perfect. But we don’t have to let this break us. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

You looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your chest ache. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know us,” he said simply. “I know what we have. And I know we can get through this, as long as we’re honest with each other. No more shutting each other out. Deal?”

You nodded, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Deal.”

Ryan let out a soft sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. “You scared me,” he admitted quietly. “When you pulled away like that, I thought… I thought I was losing you. And that terrified me.”

The idea that you’d made him feel even a fraction of the fear and doubt you’d been drowning in made your heartache. “You’ll never lose me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears. “Not if I can help it. I’m sorry for putting you through this, for doubting you when you’ve never given me a reason to.”

Ryan smiled softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’re okay,” he murmured against your skin. “We’ll be okay.”

For the first time in weeks, the tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by the comforting warmth of Ryan’s presence.

[arc-misadventures]

Vtuber: would Jaune give the other vtubers a rundown on the 40k universe like how Bricky does? And if he does, would he be a Tech Priest or some other persona?

The VTuber: There is Only an Excessive Amount of Styrene

Errant stopped as he look at the ask he had just received. It was a simple question in, and of itself. But, it was in essence an impossible task to complete. The question:

~~~~~~

Penguwithagun: Could you give us all a run done on, Warhammer 40000?

~~~~~~

ErrantryPaladin: Uhhh... No...

ErrantryPaladin: Could I give you a synopsis on, Warhammer 40k? Kinda...?

ErrantryPaladin: No...?

ErrantryPaladin: Okay look... Warhammer 40k's lore is very, very in depth. It's a lore that is ever expanding, and ever changing... You want me to explain the game itself, I can explain that in like... minute, two minutes tops. But, the lore? No way buddy.

~~~~~~

Icywill'o'wisp: Can you explain it then? The game?

~~~~~~

ErrantryPaladin: ...

ErrantryPaladin: Alright...

ErrantryPaladin: Warhammer 40000 is a tabletop board game where you build, and paint models of a various factions, and races of your choosing to fight against, and with fellow players who are do the exact same thing.

ErrantryPaladin: That's basically it; It's a board game, where you take these plastic model kits, build them however you want them, paint them however you want to, and pit your armies against fellow players who are doing the exact same thing.

ErrantryPaladin: You don't even have to play the game, I don't. I just build, and paint the models. I paint, Space Marines of the, Crimson Fist Chapter, and when the, Primaris Marines came out, I started building a, Blood Raven army. I also built a custom army of, Imperial Guard, a Goff, Ork army, and a slew of random models I bought, and painted because I thought they would be fun.

ErrantryPaladin: There you go, that's a brief synopsis of the hobby itself.

ErrantryPaladin: That, and it's an expensive hobby. A really expensive hobby...

ErrantryPaladin: Would you like to learn about the lore now?

~~~~~~

Penguwithagun: Yes

Kittubitchu: yes

Impregnatemedaddy: Just keep talking love.

~~~~~~

ErrantryPaladin: Haa...

ErrantryPaladin: Okay...

Errant pressed a button, and changed his usual handsome white skinned, with blond haired, Huntsmen face to that of a pale blue skinned cyborg, whose face was hidden by biomechanical eyes that peered soullessly at the camera. It spoke with a synthesized voice as it answered chats inquiry.

ErrantryPaladin: So you want know the lore of the, Warhammer 40000 universe do you?

ErrantryPaladin: Where do you wish to begin? There are many place where we can begin: There are the many events of forty first millennia, or the events of the forty second millennia? Pre, and post, Fall of Cadia to put it simply?

ErrantryPaladin: Cadia? Are you curious about, Cadia? Do you wish to learn about the significance of, Cadia? Or, did you learn why, and how it was destroyed?

ErrantryPaladin: How? It was destroyed during, Abaddon the Despoilers thirteenth, Black Crusade. It was to make way for his, Chaos invasion into the materium from the, Eye of Terror.

ErrantryPaladin: Who is, Abbadon? And, what is the, Eye of Terror?

ErrantryPaladin: Abbadon is the self proclaimed, Warmaster who seeks to destroy the, Imperium of Man, and slay the, Corpse Emperor in the name of his, Dark Gods.

ErrantryPaladin: The Eye of Terror is a ripe in the fabric of the world between the materim realm that allows easy access in, and out of the, Warp.

ErrantryPaladin: What is the, Warp? The Warp if an eldritch nightmare place where your very thoughts subconscious, or unconsciously effects the realm. It is a place of nightmares, and demons all in service of their eldritch gods, The Chaos Gods. Being that seek to render their influence, and destroy the material realm for their own machinations.

ErrantryPaladin: Where did the, Eye of Terror come from? The Eye of Terror was formed by the creation of one of the, Chaos Gods; Slaanesh, the Prince of Pain, and Pleasure. It resulted from the unheeded debaucheries commit by the xeno race called, The Eldar. The birth of, Slaanesh resulted in the total destruction of the, Eldar Empire, the fractioning of their peoples survivors into two separate factions, and the result that all, Eldar souls being consumed upon death by, Slaanesh, unless special jewels called, Soul Stones are used to save the souls of dead, Eldar from being consumed by, Slaanesh.

ErrantryPaladin: Who are the, Eldar? The Eldar are among the oldest races in, Warhammer 40000. They were created by a species called, The Old Ones in order to fight in a war against a xeno race called the, Necron's. They used materials called, Wrath Bone, and their species natural psionic powers to fight against the undying metallic creatures the, Necron's. An event called, The War in Heaven.

ErrantryPaladin: Do you wish to learn more?

Errant watched his chat feed ask dozen, upon dozens of questions, all leading to one question, and then to another.

Errant pressed a key, and his VTuber model to his usual human model.

ErrantryPaladin: You see chat this is why I cannot do a lore dep dive because there is no end to this place!

ErrantryPaladin: I mean, I've seen you people asking me, who, and what the Blood Ravens, and Crimson Fists are. So, you want to know who the, Space Marines are?

ErrantryPaladin: Shall I tell you how they were made? The original nineteen chapters? The traitor, and loyal legions? The unique traits of each chapter? The first founding, second founding... I think there's at least sixteen founding's...? I need to check this...

ErrantryPaladin: Oh... evidently there have been twenty six foundlings!

ErrantryPaladin: See?! There's some stuff I didn't even know about!

ErrantryPaladin: I understand you're all interested in learning about the lore of, Warhammer 40000. But, I can spend days here just talking about one factions, sub-factions, sub-factions. Days talking about the events of on war! And, don't even get me started on any of the book series! The rule books! The freaking codex's!

ErrantryPaladin: So as much as you want me to explain the deep lore of, Warhammer 40000. There's too much for me to explain. Go on, Youtube, and you'll find several channels who's whole shtick is about explain aspects of, 40ks lore.

ErrantryPaladin: So with that being said, is there any more questions you want to ask?

Errant hoped that this would be the end of this never ending conversation, but his chat had to ask that one question that sent him over the edge.

~~~~~~

Gekkowithapecker: What are your thoughts on female custodies?

~~~~~~

ErrantryPaladin: ...

ErrantryPaladin: GET THAT DEI, SLAANESHIAN, TZEENTCH BULLSHIT OUT OF MY GAME BEFORE IT DESTROYS EVERYTHING?!!!

Yeah, Errantry didin't much care for it.

[eu-nicola]

two months

summary: JJ and you broke up two months ago but there are still things between you to solve

warnings: violence, I guess

word counter: 2757

author's note: english is not my first language

Two months had passed since that night. Two months since you decided to break up with JJ. And even though it had been your words that had ended what you had, it still hurt as if he had been the one to break up with you.

That night was still as fresh in your memory as if it had happened yesterday. You had asked him as calmly as you could muster, but the tone of your voice betrayed what you truly felt.

"JJ, are you in love with Kie?"

He hadn't answered you right away. JJ had always been quick with words, always had a joke or an excuse ready, but at that moment, his silence was so loud it left you breathless. When he raised his gaze to meet yours, the guilty glint in his eyes was the confirmation you didn't want to receive.

"I don't want to hurt you." Was all he said.

That was enough for you. You had nodded at him with tears gathering in your eyes, turned around and walked out of his house without saying anything else. You knew that if you stayed one more second, you would break down in front of him, and you promised yourself that wouldn't happen.

Since then, things had never been the same. Being part of the same group of friends made getting away from him almost impossible. JJ was still JJ: charming, loud, the life and soul of every moment. But for you, he was a constant reminder of what you had lost.

And now, you were sitting on the dock, your feet dangling over the water, watching the reflection of the sun dance on the waves. Getting lost in that landscape was one of the few things that helped you distract yourself from your thoughts.

"What are you doing here all alone?"

JJ's voice interrupted your peace. You looked back and saw him approaching with that carefree smile that used to melt you. Now, he only managed to remind you of how much you had tried to forget.

"Thinking," you answered without much enthusiasm.

JJ sat down next to you, so close you could almost feel the heat from his skin. “Thinking, huh? I hope it’s not about sad things.”

You didn’t answer. You knew if you did, he’d start asking questions, and you didn’t want to give him that power over you.

“Are you going to the party tonight?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah,” you answered simply. It was easier than explaining why you’d convinced yourself you needed a distraction.

“Good.” JJ smiled, and there was something about his expression that made you uncomfortable. “It’ll be fun. You know it always is.”

You nodded, though you weren't sure it was true. Ever since everything had ended between you two, fun was the last thing you felt when you were around him. 

That night, after your brief conversation with JJ at the dock, you decided you weren't going to let his presence define how you felt. Maybe it was pride or maybe the need to prove to yourself that you could move on, but when you got home you decided to look better than ever. 

You put on a dress that always made you feel confident, tight in all the right places. You left your hair down, letting it fall in soft waves, and opted for simple makeup. 

When you arrived at the party, the place was already packed. The music was loud, the house filled with laughter and the scent of alcohol and cigarettes. You greeted a few friends as you made your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. Slowly, the atmosphere began to relax you. 

After a while, a boy approached you while you were dancing with a group. You didn't know him very well, but you'd seen him at other parties. He had a kind smile and a charisma that made you feel comfortable almost instantly. After a couple of songs, he offered to get you a drink, but you declined with a laugh, saying that you were fine for now. 

Soon, he extended his hand, inviting you to dance again. You hesitated for a moment, but decided to accept. You were here to have fun, weren't you? 

As you danced with him, you began to feel more free. He moved confidently, keeping just enough space so that you didn't feel uncomfortable, but close enough that you knew he was interested. You laughed at something he said, letting the worries of the day melt away for a moment. 

What you didn't know was that JJ was watching you from across the room. 

At first, he had tried to ignore you. Sipping a beer and laughing at his jokes, but he couldn't stop his eyes from searching for you in the crowd. When he finally saw you dancing with that boy, something inside him tightened.

As much as he tried to convince himself that he had no right to feel that way, the truth was that he couldn't stand to see you with anyone else. When he saw you laughing and noticed the way the boy lightly touched your waist as you danced, something inside him snapped.

JJ stood up abruptly and crossed the room before he could think about it.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped at the boy, pushing him lightly in the chest.

The boy, confused, raised his hands in a sign of peace. "Excuse me? We were just dancing, dude."

JJ didn't let him finish. "I'm not your friend, and she's not someone you can play with."

The tone of his voice was threatening, enough that several around started to look. You noticed the commotion a second later and turned to find JJ facing the boy.

“JJ, stop it!” you screamed, trying to intervene, but by then it was too late.

The boy, tired of the taunts, pushed JJ back, and that was all it took to spark the fight. JJ threw a punch, connecting with the other’s jaw, and within seconds, the two of them were trading blows as the crowd tried to pull them apart.

“Stop it! JJ, stop it already!” you screamed desperately, but your voice was lost in the noise. Finally, a couple of friends managed to step in and pull them apart. JJ was breathing heavily, his hair messy and his lip split, but his eyes were still fixed on the other boy with fury.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you screamed at JJ, advancing on him. “Why do you have to ruin everything?”

JJ turned to you, still agitated. “Seriously, him? That guy? What are you doing?”

“It’s not your problem who I dance with,” you snapped, feeling the rage and frustration starting to consume you. “You have no right to intervene in my life!”

“I don’t care if I don’t have the right,” he replied, his voice lower but laden with emotion. 

You shook your head, feeling tears burning in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of him. “You know what, JJ, I’m done. Sick of you. I’m leaving.”

Before he could respond, you turned around and walked out of the house, ignoring the stares from everyone else. The cool night breeze hit your face, soothing the burning in your cheeks a little as you walked home. 

But you didn’t notice JJ following you.

“Wait,” he called from behind, but you kept walking, trying to ignore him.

“Hey.”

Finally, you stopped, turning to him with your arms crossed. “What do you want now, JJ? Wasn’t ruining my night enough?”

He stopped in front of you, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want to ruin anything. But I can’t… I can’t see you with someone else. Not when I still love you.”

His confession landed between you like a bomb. You looked at him, unsure of what to say, as he watched you with an expression that was a mix of despair and hope.

JJ’s words hung in the air, too heavy to ignore, but also too painful to accept that they still affected you.

“JJ, you can’t say things like that after everything that happened,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, as you crossed your arms over your chest as if that could protect you from what you felt.

“But it’s the truth,” he insisted, taking a step closer. “I know I have no right to say it. I know I messed everything up, but I can’t just keep quiet. I’ve been screwed these past two months, and I can’t keep this up.”

“And you think I don’t?” you snapped, your voice cracking. “You think it wasn’t hard for me? I was the one who had to end it because I couldn’t stand that you loved someone else! And now you show up, saying these things… It’s not fair, JJ.”

“I know,” he replied quickly, his tone filled with regret. “None of this is fair, but I swear… I swear I didn’t realize how I really felt until I lost you.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for something, anything, to tell you if he was being sincere or if he was just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. But all you saw was the naked truth: he was hurt, just as much as you were.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Look, JJ, I can't just keep doing this here, in the middle of the street. Come home. At least let me treat those wounds before we argue any further."

"Are you sure?" he asked, hesitant.

"Yeah," you replied in a softer tone, though still laden with exhaustion. "I don't want you to end up with an infection because of me."

Without saying anything else, you began walking toward your house, knowing he would follow you. He did so, silently, with his hands in his pockets and his head down, as if he were gathering his strength for what was coming.

When you arrived, you opened the door and gestured for him to come in. JJ sat in the living room, nervous, while you went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. When you returned, he looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something you couldn't quite place.

"Let me see," you said, pointing at his face. JJ complied, leaning forward as you sat across from him.

You took some cotton and soaked it in disinfectant. When you started to clean the cut on his lip, he hissed in pain, but didn't pull away.

“That’s what you get for getting into pointless fights,” you chided him softly, trying to maintain the emotional distance you so desperately needed.

“It wasn’t pointless,” he murmured, his eyes locked with yours. “I can’t just stand by while someone else tries to take my place.”

You shot him a serious look. “JJ, no one is taking your place. You left it empty. It wasn’t my choice for this to end like this.”

He looked down, his jaw clenched. “I know. And I’ll never stop regretting it.”

You finished cleaning the cut and began applying some ointment to his knuckles, which were red and swollen from the blows. The silence between you grew heavier and heavier, until JJ broke it.

“I miss you,” he said quietly, as if he was afraid the words would fall apart on the way they came out.

He had told you he missed you, but you didn’t answer him. What were you supposed to say? He had been the one who had broken your heart, the one who hadn't been able to reciprocate when you needed him the most. So why did his words now make you feel like all the armor you had built these past few months was suddenly crumbling?

When you finished bandaging his hand, you carefully let go, trying to keep the distance you had been struggling to build for weeks. But in that instant, JJ took advantage. Before you could move, you felt his hands around your waist. The strength of his grip wasn't rough, but he wasn't letting you escape either.

"JJ, don't do this," you whispered, trying to sound firm, but your voice came out cracked.

"Please," he said in a tone you had never heard from him before, one filled with desperation. His eyes were glassy, ​​and you noticed a tear falling down his cheek. “I need you. I can’t go on like this. I’ve tried, but nothing works. I think about you all the time. I see you in every place, in every thing I do. I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anything.”

Your breathing quickened as you tried to stay calm, but emotions were starting to take over you. “JJ, you can’t tell me this now. It’s too late. You made your choices, and I had to learn to live with them.”

You tried to pull away, but he held you tighter. Before you could say anything else, he rested his head on your stomach, enveloping you in a hug that nearly knocked the air out of you. His breathing was heavy against you, like he was fighting back the tears that were now falling freely.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice muffled against you. “Tell me there’s still a chance. Tell me you don’t hate me, because I couldn’t stand it.”

Your hands shook at your sides as you tried to process what was happening. You didn't know what to say to him, or how to react. Everything in you wanted to give in, you wanted to comfort him, but you also knew that opening that door again could mean another, more painful fall.

"JJ, I don't know what to say to you," you finally whispered, your voice shaking.

He lifted his head to look at you, his eyes filled with pain, still keeping his hands on your waist and, before you could protest, he made you sit on his legs. His grip was firm, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let you go.

"Listen to me," he said seriously, his eyes locked on yours. "It's not too late for us. It can't be. I screwed up, I know, and I'm not going to justify it, but I'm here now. I think about you every day and every night. I'm here because I can't imagine my life without you."

You gulped, feeling tears begin to build up in your own eyes. “JJ, even if you wanted to fix this, how would that ever work? You left me thinking I was never enough for you.”

He shook his head quickly, his expression filled with guilt. “Don’t say that. You’re everything I ever wanted. I was just too stupid to realize it before.”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from him, but JJ held you tighter again. This time, his hands moved to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“Please,” he murmured once more, his voice cracking. “Give me one chance. Let me prove to you that I can be better, that I can do this right. Just one. Just one.”

Before you could respond, before the words could even form in your mind, JJ closed the distance between you and kissed you. It was a desperate kiss, full of need and regret. For a moment, your thoughts shut off, and all you felt was him, his warmth, his sincerity.

But then, you pulled away slightly, breathing heavily. “JJ, this doesn’t solve anything,” you said, though your voice lacked the firmness you’d planned.

He nodded, his hands still on your cheeks. “I know,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But I’m not giving up. Not until you know I’m sincere, that I love you more than I thought I was capable of loving anyone.”

You fell silent, your heart fighting your mind. Part of you wanted to believe him, but the other knew that trusting him again would be the biggest leap you’d ever taken.

[blackenedsnow]

ART X A SELF DOUBTING VAMPIRE READER PSLPLSPSLLS!! like they think they taste all rotten and nasty but art doesnt think sooo!

red as snow

WARNING: Self doubt

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Vampire! Reader

NOTE: Omg this is so fun to think about!! thanks for the ask <3 I ALWAYS love writing about vampires OHHHH MAN

SUMMARY: Art doesn’t mind what’s wrong with you. That’s the worst part, really. You can’t understand how someone so perfect in his brutality could ever want something so rotten.

The blood pools around your feet in lazy rivulets, stark and shining against the pale stretch of snow. It’s almost beautiful, in a grotesque sort of way – the kind of beauty you find in shattered glass or a body just before the life leaves it. Art would know what you mean.

He’s doing something behind you, a slow, lilting tune, soft as snowfall. He’s in his own little world, swaying slightly, his bloodied hands clasped behind his back. His clothes look filthy now, stained with deep red streaks.

You think he looks ridiculous. And perfect.

“Do you ever think,” you say quietly, your voice barely carrying over the winter hush, “that I might taste bad?”

Art stops. His head snaps toward you, and even though you know he doesn’t speak, you feel the weight of his question in the tilt of his head, the way his wide eyes narrow just slightly.

“You know,” you murmur, staring down at the corpse between you, “if someone tried to bite me. My blood’s probably awful. There’s something wrong with me.” you glance back at him, watching the way his grin widens like it’s some private joke only he gets. “You’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

You’re half-joking, but it still stings when he laughs – or whatever you’d call that silent, breathy wheeze of his. He’s doubled over, clutching his stomach like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little defensive. You fold your arms over your chest. “Why wouldn’t it be bad? I’m rotting from the inside out, Art. I can feel it. There’s no way it’d taste good.”

He straightens up, wiping at his face even though there’s no tears, no sign of any real laughter – just that grin of his, smeared with someone else’s blood. He takes a step closer, his boots crunching over the snow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, turning away. “I mean it. It’s not romantic to drink from something dead.”

He’s behind you before you can finish the thought, his hands curling over your shoulders in a way that makes your skin crawl – and not because you don’t like it. You hate that you do. That you want him to hold you tighter, to crush you in that terrible grip of his.

“I mean, maybe it’s fitting,” you continue. “You’re a demon. I’m a vampire. We’re both monsters. But even monsters deserve something better than this, don’t you think?”

Art spins you around in one fluid movement, his hands dropping to your arms to hold you in place. You can feel the press of his fingers through your clothing, too strong, too insistent, but you don’t pull away. He’s tilting his head again, his grin growing impossibly wider, like he’s daring you to keep talking.

“You don’t believe me,” you say softly.

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. Then, quick as a flash, his hand moves to his chest, dragging his fingers down like he’s unzipping it, miming something pulling at his heart.

You swallow hard. “You’re just saying that.”

He glares at you, his grin faltering for the first time. It’s subtle, just the faintest twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it’s enough to make your breath catch.

“Okay, okay,” you say quickly, raising your hands in surrender. “You love me. I get it. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his face inches from yours. You can smell the copper tang of blood on him, can see the splatters drying on his skin.

Maybe he doesn’t care what’s wrong with you, doesn’t care if your blood tastes like poison, if your body is too far gone to be anything worth having. He just loves you.

[itsnathateasy]

aot characters reacting to “i read about us in tarot”

warnings: none word count: 3,1k includes: armin, jean, connie, hange, mikasa, erwin a/n: sometimes, all you need is a confirmation from the universe, right?

“Pass me the sugar, please?” Armin asked in his polite tone. This was your third date with him and your bond and chemistry kept getting better and better. “Here you go! So, what were you saying about that new theatre show?” you questioned as you handed him the sugar bowl. He added two table spoons of sugar in his tea, stirring it thoroughly while maintaining eye contact with you. “I almost forgot! It’s an adaptation of the little prince but with dancing! Should be so much fun! Do you maybe wanna go with me?” you couldn’t keep your smile from spreading across your face as Armin suggested that you go on one more date. “Sounds great actually! I’d love to go!” you said, extending your hand to connect it with his over the table. Armin returned the gesture, softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your outer palm. “You know, it’s so weird. We’ve known each other for ages, yet I never imagined we’d be getting along so well together romantically, you know?” he admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “Okay, don’t mock me, but I kind of had a sign...” you said awkwardly. “What kind of a sign?” he arched his eyebrow at you, now holding your palm in both of his as you giggled with the confession you were about to make. “You know how Historia reads tarot?” if Armin could arch his eyebrow any more, he definitely would. “Do go on” he said in an intrigued voice. “Well, she read that there’s a fair man in my life – this was just after our first date – and she found out that he is very interested in me but it’d be more and more obvious as time progresses” you trailed off with your recollections of the tarot reading, patiently waiting for Armin’s reaction. Armin huffed in fake annoyance. “Well, that checks out. Historia kept mentioning that “fair man” that was oh so interested in you, I had to ask you out on a second date as soon as possible! Couldn’t risk it!” You laughed in unison, finding it cute how your mutual friend had read about the two of you in a deck of cards. After a while, Armin returned to the topic. “Hey, y/n… Had you ever told Historia about crushing on me?” You were taken aback. “Of course! Historia knew about you from the start. What’s wrong with that?” Armin’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Nothing wrong, just thinking. Cause I’d told her about crushing on you too...” “You’re not insinuating she planned this?” You asked, surprised that you’d ever come to such a conclusion. “Insinuating, no. I’m blatantly stating it. The little lady set us up!” (“Are you upset Historia set us up?” “Honestly, this was the best thing she’s ever done, y/n” he said and kissed your temple.)

Jean doesn’t believe in tarot and he’s made it his life mission to convince you as well. To him, it was a shame that an educated and well-informed person as you would ever resort to reading tarot. “What’s wrong with it, Jean? Even if it isn’t true – which it very much is – haven’t you read about all the cognitive benefits of picking up such a hobby? Can you even imagine the amount of brand new synaspes my brain is creating?” He simply looked back at you, one eyebrow raised, refraining from responding. “It means I’m actively getting smarter and all you do is talk down on my new skill. Will you let me practice on you now or are you going to keep on glooming about getting your cards read?” You said, only half annoyed. “Fine, y/n… Do go on. I want my cards read” you giggled at his surrender. As you were turning upwards the cards he’d picked out, Jean was observing you, your swift movements, how your irises grew wider with each symbol you recognised. “You’ve been dealt quite the cards Jean. Let me check the manual once more” you said, shuffling through the pages. “Still haven’t got the hang of it? What about your synapses?” He said and chuckled at you, still not averting his gaze from you. “With these many cards, it’ll take me a while… Look, you’ve got the lovers. A deep connection and unity between two people… And the two of cups! Mutual love and – possibly – soulmates? Whoa Jean! I’m assuming you’ve confessed to Mikasa, right?” You noticed how his face changed into the most surprised expression you’d ever seen. Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his mouth once to speak, but said nothing. After a few seconds, while you were trying your hardest to read his face, he finally spoke again. “Uhm, y/n, why would I confess to Mikasa? I’ve literally nothing to say to her, except for maybe small talk at parties.” It was now your turn to be surprised by his response. “You’re not for real, Jean. Everybody knows you like her! The cards said so too!” You said and motioned to the spread cards laying between the both of you on the table. “Y/n...” he said and rubbed his hand all over his face, finally resting it in a fist on his chin, partially covering his mouth. “You’ve got this whole thing wrong, y/n” “How have I got it wrong? You’ve asked her out in the past and she rejected you?” Jean was facepalming so hard at your question. After taking a breath or two, he finally sat up properly and faced you, body completely aligned with yours. “Y/n, all these cards I pulled... Not a single one of them is referring to Mikasa. And this one – the two of cups, was it? - I was about to ask you out. That’s the new relationship, hopefully.” He said as he pointed at the vibrant card in front of him. “I was just… Waiting for the right moment… Didn’t wanna blurt it all out of nowhere… It sucks that you think that this whole time I’ve had my eye on Mikasa, cause it’s far from the truth.” Jean’s confession was unexpected, but more than welcome. “Jean… Honestly PHEW!” You said in a loud voice, sweeping invisible sweat from your forehead with a dramatic move. “Phew as in…?” He questioned, not quite catching your drift yet. “Phew because… I’ve had MY eye on you for who knows how long… I never initiated anything cause I thought you had things going on with Mikasa. I’m relieved to find out this isn’t the case.” You looked over at him, a serene smile was plastered on his face, his hand extending to reach yours. “So… Wanna go out some time?”

“Shouldn’t have done that, y/n sweetheart” Connie said as he laid his reverse card on the pile between you on the couch. “Ugh, how come you always get me so bad? Uno’s supposed to be my turf...” you exhaled, disappointed by the fact that you had to draw more cards. “And with this” Connie said playing one more card “I’m out! I’ve officially defeated your sorry ass!” Connie celebrated his victory by triumphantly marching all around your coffee table, hands in the air. “I can never catch a break with you” you protested, letting your weight fall on the back of the couch. Connie noticed how you were not celebrating along with him (his audacity is immeasurable) and quit his marching to crouch next to you. “Hey, hey… No need to feel sad. It’s a compliment to have the best uno player as your boyfriend!” he explained, softly poking your cheek with his index finger over and over again. “Cut it out!” you yelled, laughing at him while trying to push his hand away. “And… Consider this: Whoever loses in card games, wins in love. Isn’t this what they say?” He questioned, waiting for your response as he was now poking your belly with both of his indexes. “Speaking of which” you said in between fits of laughter, attempting to escape him by moving further away on the couch. “I think I read about you in tarot, but like… A few weeks before we started dating”. Thankfully, your statement intrigued him enough to get him to stop his relentless poking. “Seriously? Had we met yet?” “No, not yet. It was a few weeks before Sasha introduced me to you. But I’d seen photos of you so I don’t know, I may’ve been biased by your cute face!” You said and gave him a bright smile, but Connie only stood up from his spot to scream at the top of his lungs “NO SHIT BECAUSE I READ ABOUT YOU TOO!”. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “What are you talking about, Connie?” “Okay, listen” he said and sat back next to you again. “The week before we met, I was so tired of Jean and Sasha bugging me about not wanting to meet any of Sasha’s friends – I didn’t know about you yet, I’m sorry babe – and so we all went to this fortune teller, who told us all about you and our date and, wait, REMEMBER WHEN YOU SPRAINED YOUR ANKLE ON THE WAY HOME FROM OUR FIRST DATE? SHE’D TOLD US ABOUT THAT AS WELL AND THEN I TOLD JEAN AND SASHA AND THEY SAID I’D MADE IT UP AND DIDN’T BELIEVE ME UNTIL MOVIE NIGHT A FEW DAYS LATER AND-” “CONNIE CALM DOWN!” You half yelled, while giggling the entire time. “Please, take a breath, you’re giving me a headache!” Eventually, he did calm down, and sat on top of you. “So… Reckon we were meant to be?” he snuggled his face closer to yours, sneaking small pecks here and there. “No, you were meant to be and I was meant to keep losing to you in card games!” You exclaimed in fake annoyance. “NOW YOU DON’T MEAN THAT Y/N!”

“And what do you think this means, Hange?” you questioned the brunette as they drew one more card out of the deck. “Wait, let me check… I’m still new to this tarot thing...” As they browsed through the deck manual, the corner of their tongue was pursed between their lips. “So, y/n, you got the hanged man… Or woman… This deck assumes everyone’s gender I guess...” “Hange… You’re trailing off” you said and giggled as they returned your gaze. “I’m just saying, y/n. You can’t just assume people’s gender or their sexuality, it’s not right”. They looked kind of disappointed as their eyes skimmed the page referring to the hanged man. “I know Hange, but I came here so you could practice tarot, remember?” “Alright, alright” they surrendered. “So, as I was saying, the hanged PERSON” - you couldn’t hold back your giggle – is all all about sacrifice, new perspectives... waiting for the right time… But that’s boring y/n… I suggest that you screw the right time, and go for it instead. And as the great Herman Melville said “He who hesitates is lost”. Or she. OR THEY!” Hange threw their hands up in frustration, letting the manual off of their hands. “Are you quoting Herman Melville or Lemony Snicket? You’re confusing me!” You both laughed at your comment, Hange touching her stomach in an attempt to contain themselves. “Either way, y/n… You know, tarot is really fun, but more often than not, waiting for the right time is pointless. The right time never comes and one’s never ready. I don’t know what this stalling refers to in your life, but it kept coming up in your reading. If there’s a situation where you need to take action, just do it. And when you do, call me up so you can spill the tea, you know?” Hange stretched their palms on the table, collecting the cards you’d both pulled out of the deck and tidying them into a neat brick, before enclosing the deck in its colourful paper box again. Once they’d put everything away, your mind was made up. “Okay Hange. So, enough with the stalling, right?” “It’s the best advice I can come up with, y/n. And as your only and BEST fortune-teller slash advisor slash best friend, I do suggest you act upon… Whatever you need to act upon.” They said as they put the deck back into their bag. “Okay, listen” you said and inhaled deeply. “Y/n… Is something wrong?” “No, no, just… Listen, okay? Don’t ask me how I know but I know you like me and I like you too and do you wanna go on a date sometime?” You blurted in a single breath as Hange was left frozen opposite you on the table. “I can’t believe Levi spilled the beans, oh he’s in for a real treat!” they said, clenching their fists. “Is that a yes or a no, Hange?” You insisted, eyes steadily focused on them, pulling them back to reality. “It’s a yes, y/n, of course it’s a yes. Can the date be punch-a-bag? Cause Levi’s asking for a beating!” “Okay, but wear something nice? I’ve made reservations at a restaurant” you explained while getting up to make your leave. “How did you know I was gonna say yes? And where are you going?” “Gotta warn Levi! See ya!” you waved goodbye and made your way out before Hange could stop you.

“Please tell me this is a joke, y/n” Mikasa sighed as she averted her gaze from your phone screen to you. She’d already had enough of your teasing today and you trying to explain how your friend Historia had predicted Mikasa and you would end up together was the final drop. “You never take me seriously, Mikasa… This reading was so OBVIOUSLY about you, I HAD to film it for this exact occasion! Just listen to how Historia mentions that “Mikasa will never believe this, even if you show her after it happens”… You can’t tell me the reading isn’t accurate!” You pouted, hoping that Mikasa would come around and admit to your friend’s tarot reading skills. “It doesn’t matter if it’s accurate, y/n, cause it’s not real! You can’t be serious about basing our entire relationship on a deck of fancy cards?” You taken aback by her comment and felt like your hurt showed. The reading Historia had given you all those months ago was what fuelled you to - finally - ask Mikasa out. “Hey, y/n, I… I didn’t mean to upset you...” She reached for your arm, but you pulled away. Collecting your thoughts as best as you could, you eventually managed to speak. “Those fancy cards gave me the confirmation I needed to pursue you at the time. You were always so distant, I never knew what you were thinking. But everything that Historia told me, gave me the boost to ask you out...” You sneaked a peek at Mikasa, who was now also wearing her mouth upside down and lingering akwardly back and forth. “Besides, you said it yourself. You never wanted to cause trouble in our friend group and had no intention of asking me out, even though you liked me. So, yeah, those fancy cards were a big deal. And the video you wasted so much time shitting on was the match that started the fire. Blame me for believing in the occult I guess, but don’t say our entire relationship has been based on a lie, cause it was that “lie” that started it all...” Mikasa waited, unsure of how to respond to your speech. “The only right thing to say is I’m sorry, y/n. I was insensitive. This was clearly important to you… Can we conclude this fight now and watch the rest of the video? I think Historia was about to explain something I’d do on our first date” She trailed off shyly. Your lips perked up just a tiny bit, and that was all the answer Mikasa needed as you scooted closer to her on the couch. As she wrapped her arm around you she spoke again. “Actually, y/n, play it from the start. I should pay proper attention to the reading this time!”

Folding his paper in half and softly laying it on the kitchen table was your cue that you were in trouble. “You did… What exactly? I didn’t quite catch that, y/n” Your breath hitched as you moved further from the sink and closer to him. His look was as serious as ever, arms folded on his chest, unmoving. “It wasn’t even too expensive, Erwin! Come on, don’t dwell on the past! It’s long gone now!” You tried to make a plausible excuse for yourself, but to no avail. “Uh uh, that’s not what you said. You said you spent a hundred dollars on a tarot reading, because you weren’t sure I’d propose.” He gave you a serious look, pinching his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “How could you not be certain? Have I ever let you doubt my intentions towards you, y/n?” Damn, this was going to end badly, you could feel his anger brewing. “You don’t understand, Historia is a genius! She even predicted we’d have a daughter before I knew it! How did you think I knew to buy a pregnancy test on our holiday?” The way his eyes grew wider at this confession was a sight, to say the least. “Uhm, your period skipping two months maybe?” “ERWIN!! It was summer time! That... Can happen... From time to time!” “I’m gonna hold your hand as I say this, y/n, but, at the time, we were having unprotected sex for a least three months because we were consciously trying for a baby.” He gave you one more of his serious glares, tilting his head a bit forward. “I’m just a girl, Erwin! You can’t blame me for wanting to make sure!” You explained as you crossed the distance between you and sat on his lap. Maybe this would prevent him getting too mad at you. He exhaled deeply as he stared at you between his arms. You knew he was judging you so much by the stern look on his face. Unfolding his paper and resuming his reading, he continued. “It’s a good thing you didn’t charge it on my card... If I saw those withdrawals without a single warning, I’d have called the bank to pause the card.” He flattened the paper with a shaking sound. You fidgeted with your fingers without realising it, but Erwin caught the gesture. “Y/n… You didn’t...” “I’M JUST A GIRL ERWIN! And a girl needs to know!”

[bomber-grl]

Nico Di Angelo x Child of Medusa 🐍

Pairing(s): Nico Di Angelo x M!Reader

A req for @calypso-74213! Also cringe-ish warning

Everyone at camp is terrified of you

I mean its said that people are scared of what they don’t understand

And you’re sort of an anomaly

Not to mention that you’re able to turn ppl to stone, the only barrier separating them and you, bding your sunglasses

Also because you closely resemble humans/ demigods

Yknow, besides the snakes instead of/ amongst your hair, scales here and there, and your eyes

Especially since Medusa isn’t known to be particularly fond of men, so it leaves much to think about and question

Then again, Athena-

Anyway

Many aren’t fond of you, that’s a given. I mean many campers weren’t very welcoming of Nico and his status(?) as son of hades so I can only imagine the treatment you go through

I mean at least everyone has the decency to pretend to be nice to you

But the tension is still there

The first day you were introduced was by Chiron, usually he’d leave the camper up to the counselor these days but you’re a special exception (along with Percy)

So bam, new cabin for not a god but rather Medusa

I’d imagine a lot of discourse, especially since it’s only for godly parents and the whole pride aspect

But eventually, with much persistence from Percy and others who are willing to back you up, you get one

Which is only a result of them being proven wrong by your origins and proven to be a nice person

Also, might I add, you’re likely here because of being mortal/not completely monster and need protection like many demigods

Anyways, Nico isn’t at camp all that much

Especially since he has this idea that many people aren’t fond of him (which changes throughout the series)

When he hears about you through the grapevine he’s intrigued

He never thought that someone such as yourself would even exist but then again he could say that about the gods and Olympus

Only once he finds out that you’re treated like shit (at the start of your stay) does he go to find you and see what your deal is

And he’s pleasantly surprised

You pass all his standards

1. Don’t be an asshole

2. Don’t be an asshole

Oh, and did I mention don’t be an asshole?

You were more than pleasant to hang out with and he found himself looking for you amongst the crowds of demigods at camp

He looked forward to seeing you again

Only then does he realize how he’s fallen in love with you

He never would’ve imagined he’d ever fall in love with a son of Medusa, but here he is

He’s admittedly hesitant to confess to you

It’s so obvious too

You’re at the lake like you usually are

You tend to spend time there when you’re not having fun at arts and crafts or training with weapons

This is the time of day you two usually hang out and that’s only proven more by the fact that Nico is seated right next to you, gazing at you

Almost lost in thought but then you snap him back to reality- wondering what’s up

That’s when he just tells you, he almost shrinks away until you tell him that you reciprocate his feelings

He’s honestly shocked by the whole thing and just stares at you until you hesitantly hold his hand

From them on you’re officially boyfriends and he can’t emphasize how happy he is to have you

The sun isn’t always shining and so bad things are bound to happen, what’d you expect? You two are a demigod and a half monster (?)

Your origins might be a mystery but you know better than anyone not to fear the dark

So when Nicos having certain days where he’s struggling, he’s glad that you can embrace all of him

Change of tone but you and Nico are just chilling as Jules- Albert drives you places when Nico realizes something

He’s never seen your eyes, or rather, looked you straight on

I mean you’ve kissed, hugged, etc etc but he’s never seen you without your glasses

Which how could he? He’d literally be turned to stone

But that doesn’t stop him from wondering

His eerily long silence next to you prompts you to ask him what’s up

And finally after much convincing that ‘we listen and we don’t judge’

He tells you

And of course you laugh but just because you find it endearing that he wants to

Of course it’s something that never goes anywhere but if he asks a Hecate kid if there’s stone proof potions- well that’s none of your business

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 act iii spoilers // caitvi ending commentary ⚠️

the difference between the last individual scenes of vi and caitlyn, and the one they shared actually made me sob, so vhere's my analysis of what it all meant

caitlyn is at home, in her family mansion in piltover. her monologue seems to be a messege or an archive for the kirammans or historians after her; she's also looking at the kiramman house files, a family heirloom, a symbol of her legacy and her station, a connection to her mother. she's perhaps looking for something needed in order to start rebuilding the city, perhaps checking if jinx could still be somewhere out there, maybe even seeing what ekko saw about the undercity's vents and water ducts. she still seems to have purpose, or to be in search of one for herself.

vi is also in caitlyn's house in piltover, but she's not with caitlyn. in a city not her own, in a house not her own, it seems she's chosen to sit in a room alone with her thoughts, staring at the fireplace. we hear her humming the tune to a song her mother used to sing, the same one jinx was humming when we first saw her this season - vi's small comfort, the faintest memory from those before her, and nothing to leave to those after her. no roots and no legacy. she's grieving everyone and everything she's lost. stripped of will and void of purpose.

caitlyn is excited to hear vi humming a song. we don't know how long it's been since the war ended, but this implies she hasn't been doing much other than sitting by herself in silence in quite some time. she's become a shell of herself, and caitlyn is worried - she's there for her but doesn't want to push her either. she asks her if she's "still in the fight", and this is a loaded question that i can see two main meanings in - one notably sadder.

1) are you still in there?

what part of you is left, and is it strong enough to keep fighting this state you're in? do you have it in you to keep going? do you have the will to live in spite of it all? is there any fight left in you? are you still with me, or are you just in the room?

and i feel like caitlyn knows the answer but wants to hear it from vi, check in on her and encourage her to open up if she's feeling ready to. because she heard her humming to herself.

and when vi says she's the dirt under caitlyn's nails, she doesn't mean it in a cute, flirty or romantic way. she means it in a self-deprecating "i know i'm not being easy right now" kind of way.

i'm not fun to be around, to have to take care of and wait around for. i'm making things harder for you and i'm holding you back by not cooperating and just getting better. i can't help it.

and she adds onto this, "nothing's ever gonna clean me out"

you're stuck with me. i'm a nuisance to you but i can't leave you because you're all i have left. i think i'm lost and broken beyond repair. i'm crooked. i think i'll never be okay again.

2) have you given up on zaun?

are you still in on fighting the system? have you given up on trying to make others see your people for who you are? do you still have hope in the dream for unity and freedom for zaun?

it sounds like caitlyn does, and she's still up for it, just like she was in the latter half of the first season, before jinx kidnapped her, tried to get vi to kill her, and blew up the counsil building just as its members were about to vote for zaun's sovereignty, killing caitlyn's mother. but caitlyn can't do it on her own - it's vi's home, vi's people, vi's identity - and she needs to know if vi still believes they can change something.

and when vi says she's the dirt under caitlyn's nails, she doesn't literally mean caitlyn, or herself. she means the opposing poles they represent - piltover and zaun, oppressor and oppressed, a pristine policewoman and a crooked criminal. until piltover's view of the undercity and its people changes, zaun will always be a torn in its side, fighting it, defying it, trying to free itself from its clutches. small, perhaps insignificant, an inconvenience, but a part of it that it can't get rid of or erase. it'll always be there, it'll always fight back.

and when she says nothing's ever gonna clean her out, she means she'll never be bent out of shape and lose that part of herself - the ugly, dirty, raggedy part that grew up on the streets of zaun and was raised among all the tragedy, misery and poverty of the undercity. a product of the system. she'll never let that be "washed out" of her, she won't forget her origin or her goals. this is who she is, her identity - not just in the eyes of piltover, but in her own heart - a zaunite.

EDIT: i also saw this interpretation on tiktok if you're interested. to summarize: there's a spanish saying "like nails and dirt" which is used to refer to two people who are inseparable, so this is a testimony of vi's love for caitlyn having given her reason to keep going and stay by her.

[guksvault]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

02- & The After Party

synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. There, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew.

w/c: 2.6k

warnings: drug/alcohol references/usage, jk is a big ol' meanie pt 2, reader grows some balls, lil intro to how the boys met!!

a/n: jjk made todays lil scrapbook!! isnt he so!! <33!! (making each chapters scrapbook is sm fun!! gives u another pov of the characters me thinks!!) i also have like 8 more chapters written already :/ anyways!! enjoy!!

minorsdni

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You made your way up the stairs, determined to find Yoongi. Determined to get the fuck away from the creeper whose stare made you wish the couch would open and swallow you whole.

Being stared at had never been a problem for you, granted it was normally out of admiration. Never had it ever been a look that made you want to absolutely shed your own skin.

You reached the end of the stairs, 4 closed bedroom doors, not game enough to open any of them, didn't fancy walking in on Yoongi balls deep in some girl or anyone else for that matter.

Spotting a bathroom to the right of the stairs, you slip in and take the time to fix yourself up, ready to return home.

Jungkook on the other hand had still been watching, hadn't stopped since he first saw you circling the street until you grew enough balls to step inside this mad house. Told himself he was only watching incase you just so happened to leave that pretty Chanel purse unattended, knew you'd have a shit ton of cash in there, probably wouldn't notice if he took some.

Watched you head towards the bathroom from downstairs, stood up and made his own way there. Stood opposite the door.

He was surprised you were still here. Betted with himself that you'd only last an hour, 2 at most. But, it's almost 4am now, and you are still here.

Out of place and unwanted.

As you finished your touch ups, opening the door you couldn't help but jump at the man opposite you. Arms crossed, the light making his tattoo's a little more visible now, his face too. Didn't understand why assholes always got the prettiest faces.

"Fuck, sorry" You say, assuming he was waiting for the bathroom.

"Daddy know you got a mouth on ya?" Jungkook says, eyes locked on yours, tongue slightly playing with his lip ring.

"Does yours know you're kind of a cunt?"

Jungkook scoffs. Scans your body, meets your eyes again. "I can tell Yoongi you had to leave, we both know you shouldn't be here."

It's your turn to scoff now, "Have I done something to upset you, Jonathan, was it?"

His jaw clenches, a quick exhale through his nose, "Jungkook?", shakes his head and steps towards you. "Yoongi left that world for a reason, doesn't need it following him. Matter a-fact, none of us want it around."

You tilt your head slightly, turn your body to face Jungkooks, "Didn't really ask if you wanted me here or not, don't really give a fuck if you do or not either,"

You understood that you were probably a constant reminder of what everyone here doesn't have, but fuck, how much longer did they have to tell you it.

"If Yoongi wanted me out, I would've been out. Don't think he needs some little coked up emo to speak for him, hm?" Your tone was calm but you knew it had hit a nerve by the way his jaw clenched, just how you intended.

"Watch your fuckin' mouth, yeah? Might be worth something back in Seoul, but here, where you are right now? No one gives a fuck" Jungkook spits back.

"You seem to be awfully concerned though," You feign a pout, shrug your shoulders slightly and turn on your heels.

You retreat back downstairs, not to the banged up god awful couches, but to the table by the kitchen, down a shot and lean against the counter.

The crowd is a-lot more sparse now, few people passed out here and there, cups and balloons still scattered over the floors. The music that was blaring, is now playing dark instrumentals at a much softer level.

An arm slings over your shoulder, "Still kickin' Bee?"

"Apparently."

"Welcome to the House Of Balloons." Yoongi snorts proudly, placing a cigarette between his lips.

"House of balloons?"

Yoongi gives a small nod, as he lights up the end of his cigarette. "Throw these fuckin' parties every weekend and the people, they love the fuckin' balloons."

"Every weekend, hm?"

Yoongi nods, tells you it's a tradition. Tells you they've never missed a weekend since they started. Doesn't tell you why it started, doesn't tell you how much he fucking loves it, but you can feel it. Can see there's a light in Yoongi's eyes that he didn't have when he was attending galas and charity events, although that may just be the snow racing through his bloodstream.

Once upon a time, around the time Yoongi gave you your first blunt you used to think that perhaps you and Yoongi would have ended up together. Had the fattest crush on him until he broke your tween heart when he lost his virginity to Kim Soyeon in a bathroom of a Four Seasons during a High Society gathering.

He looks at you, "You really thinkin' bout leaving it all?"

You shrug slightly, "Not if it's going to lead me here. No offense."

He laughs, nudges your shoulder and takes the cigarette back from you. "Do it better than I did. Get your hands on some fuckin' cash or some shit, keep contacts. I ain't got shit now, never been happier but fuck it could have been easier."

You stand with Yoongi, listen to him mumble about something to do with his music. Fucker can barely string a sentence together, heads rolling, his jaw too.

It only takes you another 20 minutes, one uncalled for squeeze to your ass by some horned up freak and a death stare by Jungkook until you realise, it's home time.

"Another party tomorrow night, always welcome here Bee. Friday through to Sunday, the House Of Balloons will always love to have you" Yoongi says before he closes the door to your uber.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It's half past 5 by the time you arrive back to the penthouse.

Quiet, clean, bright. All the things the House Of Balloons wasn't.

The only noise being the chef in the kitchen preparing too much food for a Saturday's breakfast.

Managing to retreat to your own room without your parents questioning where you've been and why you're strolling in at fuck ass O'clock.

You lay in bed. Soft noises coming from your vanilla bean diffuser thats refreshing your room. Eyes on the ceiling. Thoughts on the House Of Balloons.

What the fuck was that? Why did I see 4 people getting it on in the open? Did I really look like a hooker? I would make a decent hooker- no. Shut up. Wouldn't go to Daegu if I was a fucking hooker. What hooker wears Hervé Léger pulled from the archive specially for you? Was the party still thriving?

It was. Yoongi wasn't lying when he said Friday through to Monday. It's simple really;

Friday will come, the house is open at 9pm, people roll in for their Friday night start off. House is normally cleared out by 8am, except for the few passed out around the house or the girls letting the guys use their bodies.

Repeat on Saturday's.

Sunday is come down day. Still a rager, just less pussies who can't handle it.

By 10am on a Monday, the house is clean and ready for the week to prepare for the next weekend.

Hoseok will have worked on his set to Dj from a shitty DJ deck, (which he stole from a college music room he broke into one night). The House of Balloons isn't the House of balloons without his dark, seductive and occasional mix of early 2000s&90s club bangers.

Yoongi organises drop offs from his dealer. The money that everyone drops in that rusted bucket? Yeah, that's their Snow Stash. The House Of Balloons isn't the House of Balloons without its fair share of coke, weed and god awful cheap booze.

Jimin is mostly in charge of the people that come to the parties. A charmer, knows how to make the night seem like it's not worth missing. Tells a pretty desperate stranger, who tells a friend, who tells another friend. The House Of Balloons isn't the House Of Balloons without a crowd full of depressed, desperate delinquents.

And Jungkook, is in charge of- well, being Jungkook. The female's will stroll on into the House Of Balloons, see him and decide that coming every weekend is worth it just to see him. The men want to be him, women want to be with him.

Which is no problem to Jungkook, can't stand sleeping with the same girl more than once- hates the idea of getting comfortable with someone. Prefers to spend the night learning their body and then never having to revise the information again.

The House Of Balloons isn't the House Of Balloons without Jeon Jungkook.

He loves it. Thinks the feelings he feels when he's inside the walls of his home that are shaking from the bass, when his line of vision is slightly warped from the white powder he snorts through his nose or the girl he's picked from the crowd is on her knees in-front of him must be the best feeling in the world. Nothing can compare, he thinks. This is what love must feel like. This is the feeling that people spend their life searching for, in the palm of his hand.

And just as deeply as he loves, his hate will always run deeper. Whether it be, losing, things being out of place or you.

Well, not you. Doesn't actually give a flying fuck about you. But, he hates people like you. Who come from money, stability, a safety net below them every time they slip. You just happen to fit exactly into that category, your fault. Not his.

Jungkook was raised by a single mother, father left and died from an overdose. Mother worked two jobs to be able to afford food.

Jungkook was 9 when his mother took her own life, leaving him with his grandparents who passed together 4 years later in result of a hit and run.

A life of loss and grief led him here. Right to the doorstep of the House Of Balloons. Well, technically it led him to Jimin.

Jimin and Jungkook met when Jungkook went to try to steal food from Jimin's father's run down (but the tastiest) Korean BBQ restaurant. Jimin saw him, made him a plate. They decided from that day that they would be best friends from then onwards and to only score five-finger-discounts together.

By the time they turned 17, they met Namjoon. Local Cannabis grower. Joon, only two years older, promised unlimited smoke sesh's if Jimin promised to get his father to feed him. Easy deal.

Three of them started going to shitty house parties, none of them were really any fun. More like a place to find someone to empty themselves into and if they were super lucky, find something laying around to steal and sell for some quick cash.

Half the reason why they continued to stop by these parties was because Jungkook had taken a liking to the DJ's music.

Hoseok was constantly, practically begging people to let him play music at whatever house party was the spot for a night. Thought, maybe just maybe someone would see his talent and know someone who knows someone and set him up for life. Hopeful.

Jungkook had extended an invite to Hoseok to join them for a meal, and wanted to convince Hoseok to teach him how to DJ. Wanted to be cool like him. Quickly realised he much rather listen to music than make it.

Then, two years ago, enters Yoongi. Introduced himself at a party. Bonded with Hoseok over music, plants with Joon and drugs and women with Jimin and Jungkook.

Jungkook and Jimin had planned on jumping him after Yoongi told him where he was from, but decided not to after they realised he really was just as broke as them.

The five of them, inseparable now. Living together in a run down shit box they scored with Yoongi's only available money. Decided to throw the party they always dreamed of, was a hit and has been a part of their lives since.

So, sue Jungkook for hating you and your lifestyle. Ungrateful for running away he thinks. Too scared to actually run away, is sure he won't have to see you again. If he has to see another pink dress shining in the crowd of monochromatics, he might just rip his own eyes out and stomp on them.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Jungkook is enjoying his night so far. Saturday's are always a little more chaotic than Friday's or Sunday's. More people, more drama, more women, more orgasms.

He sat in his usual seat, the brown leather couch facing towards the entryway. Can see everyone who enters, see's his options, notices any potential danger, can spot any glittering pink that dare enter.

He's listening to Joon dramatically ramble on to him and everyone within close proximity about how some dickhead stole his bicycle last night, reckons his gonna find the sneaker fucker and shove the handle bars up his ass. He won't, will just have to steal someone else's. Circle of life.

Jungkook's half interest is completely stripped from him once he looks towards the door and spots a glittery nepo baby wearing a baby blue dress. Corseted at the waist, puffs out just at the middle of your thighs.

"Fuckin' hell" Jungkook breaths out, the smoke from his cigarette clouding around his face.

Jimin and Joon, a few of the girls surrounding them all look in Jungkook's line of vision. You. Dressed for a tea party with the elite but stood with the delinquents of Daegu.

"Round 2? More interesting than I thought she'd be." Joon shrugs, turns back to the blunt he was rolling.

Jungkook's eyes are narrowed in on you, watching you laugh and down a shot of vodka with Yoongi. Jaw clenched, his cigarette burning towards the filter.

"Why the fuck do you care so much? About her? Did she reject you or something? Ignore her, it's not like she's here for good." One of the little groupies who had been trying to score a second lay from Jungkook for the last 2 weeks by Jungkook's side speaks out.

Jungkook's eye's move directly to her, brows pinched together. "Fuck you just say?"

She sits up a little straighter, has been begging for Jungkook's attention for weeks, not this kind though.

"No, no, I just mean, you know. You seem worked up, we can go upstairs? Maybe not seeing her and focusing on someone else could help?". She runs her fingers through the back of his slightly curled wolf cut.

He scoffs. Sucks his teeth and elbows her arm away, "Only place I want you to be, is somewhere not fucking around me. Fuck off."

Harsh, too harsh probably.

"What? Jungkook, babe-"

"Fuck off."

And off she fucked. Was no point arguing or begging him to let her suck him off to show him how she truly didn't mean to upset him. Never was with Jungkook, once he had his mind made up about you, that was it.

"Bit harsh J." Jimin smirks, throws him a new cigarette, Jungkook's previous one had burnt to the filter and put itself out.

Jungkook takes a light to his fresh cigarette, says a quick "be back in a few." and walks out. Straight through the sliding door, that is barely on the hinges, to the back yard.

There's less people out here, he still decides to sit towards the back of the garage that Hoseok had turned into a bedroom slash studio for his mixing.

Quiet. Less stuffy. Air is breathable. All the opposite to what he normally craves. Blames you, you're the one piece that doesn't fit.

And it only makes him want to bring his own clenched fist straight to his own face and knock himself out when he looks up from the ground and see's you standing in-front of him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[marianasue]

sydcarmy truthers !

today movie is "say anything" :

you know why I will talk about it because of this :

the poster appeared in s3 , it was behind sydney .

please do not tell me it was casual putting it there in her presence ; and also the camera was focusing , on the poster .

anyway ; I believe that every single thing in the bear means or refers to something or the most important , foreshadow future events or guide us to the main story .

I watched the movie yesterday ; and found interesting things especially the dialogues .

so here we go let´s take it step by step :

first scene with llyod and his friends was hillarious :

take this :

llyod wants to take diane on a second date , but when he share his idea with his friends , this their answer :

"you never had a first date"

this is the case of carmy when he took syd with him to ever , it was supposed to be a "date" , not a real date but it seems like that .

the problem , that lloyd thinks that eating together is a date . but his friends can´t see that : that´s a date , it´s something normal everybody do .

and this is the audience of the bear reaction when carm invites syd to ever .

no one see it as a "date" , but in carmy mind , sitting behind syd and eating with her is kinda of a date (fun and enjoyement)

"a date is prearragement with a possibility for love "

so maybe everytime carmen asks syd to go with him to some events (dates) , storer is kinda telling us that in every date , there´s love growing between them .

like it´s impossible to go with someone to a dinner ,and just eat and leave : of course they will share talk , their bond will become stronger ; they will discover each other mind and thinking .

so , we must pay attention everytime carm asks syd , we will see in s4 .

llyod: "Then what´s love"

and what is love according to carmy ????????

llyod is searching about "what´s love" , the same question that struggle carmen and maybe we will find out in s 4.

second notice :

during the movie the characters using the words : purple and violet .

like it reminds me of marcus .

what´s the meaning behind this color , I know maybe because :

red + blue = violet this is the colors of sydcarmy .

plus : there´s purple flowers in the movie reminded me of that in the bear if you catch it .

and in the last scene , diane wearing all in violet :

and in her hat the same violet flower . this is when thy get back together by the way .

third notice :

llyod said when he break up diane : "I gave her my heart , she gave me a pen "

hhhhh , and who gave his heart in the bear , :

it´s gonna be carmy in s4 saying :

"I gave her my heart in a plate , she gave me her pen "

we know syd is always with her pen :

by the way these two scenes are so funny :

hhhh I believe we may see a same scene like that in s4 .

if you watch the movie , you will see the question that must be answered in the bear .

and this is lead us that the show is a love story in the end .

no matter they are trying to put syd and carmy apart or just friends .

it´s the same case with llyod when his friends was doubting his relationship with diane : like they litterally said , you can´t go out with diane , you´re two are not in the same boat .

but in the end the two became a couple .

the bear is love story .

if you wanna add something add it .

[mochie-is-a-librarian]

Single Dad Matt Murdock

c/tw: fem reader, singular mention of death, mentions of periods, girldad Murdock, reader is Matt’s daughter

a/n: I’ve always kinda seen Matt as a father figure so this one’s for me guys. If you want a romantic Matt x Reader than feel free to drop an ask but your gonna see a lot of Girldad Murdock from here on out.

There’s a lot of different options for why Matt would be a parent at all. Maybe you’re adopted, maybe your mother passed away, or just didn’t want to be involved with you. Regardless Matt loves you unconditionally. There was no question about it. You’re his daughter and he wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Raising you was definitely a task. On top of his job and his being a vigilante, he founded to juggle being a dad on top of that. He’s trying though.

He was never opposed to doing “girly” things when you were little because he wanted to know you were having fun. That’s what really mattered (even if he felt silly).

As you started getting bigger, that was a whole new ghost he had to tackle.

Thank god he had Karen or else he would have never figured out how to help you through your first period, she was a godsend to both of you.

He taught you manners when you were super little, other parents were shocked to see what a polite little lady you were.

He’s at the level of parent that’s sad to see you grow. He’ll always ruffle your hair and say “stop growing” because deep down he’s wishing you can be his little girl forever.

Your first partner got the shovel talk faster than you can say “dad, shut up.” Nobody will ever be good enough for his little girl in his eyes.

He’ll support all your interests, no matter what they are. Even if they’re weird, he’ll force himself to understand.

Deep down he really wants you to be a lawyer too. But he’ll never tell you that, it has to be if your own volition.

He takes you to Fogwells to teach you self defense. You’re a girl in New York, he thinks it’s better safe than sorry.

Overall, Matt is a great dad. He loves you a lot and wants you to be happy. Though he’s definitely a little overbearing, his hearts in the right place.

[magiclwritings]

His feet hit the floor at the sound of the crash but the prince of Adros did not step one more toe further than that. What Quin was telling him, explaining and maybe talking out with himself in a way could not be interrupted. It was a rare moment when he was so candid and while this truly was not a truth Cesare wanted to hear, he needed to. Because hearing it all from Beau was one thing but to see the ramifications of it hit so wholly on Quin, there was no other proof he'd ever needed than his word but any doubt or question that had been brought up about the man before him was dashed. Because as he'd explained pieces and parts started to fall into place for the prince. Even his last visit to the castle, there was suggestion that Quintus was unwell but no one had ever clarified what sort of unwell. Just that he had always been a constant state of it. Even Max had said it a time or two.

The bitter taste of iron snapped him out of the momentum of Quin's confession and he'd realized he'd been biting down on his lip nearly the entire time. It wasn't any wonder, being that still while being that sort of information was terrible to stomach. And then he'd instantly felt ashamed for feeling as though he had a worse time than the man explaining his truth. The ache in his chest started to grow and grow. Seeing him so bare, so raw was never something Cesare thought he'd see in all his life. Quintus had always been a pillar of sly, cunning that he found to be something of a wonder and a pleasure. It was why after only a little while knowing him that the prince knew he'd one day ask for his hand. Even Max had known for years that was going to be the way of it. Cesare ate out of his hands and would have done anything but something struck him in a way he hadn't expected. Not you. And it had occurred to him then that Quin had expected him to save him. To see him then. The contents of his stomach started to gurgle at the thought he really took a moment to himself for that. Because maybe he had known all along. Maybe there had been tells and he'd ignored them because the rest of their court had.

Cesare swallowed hard and quietly moved around from where he'd stood. Quin's words were processed as they came. And he knew from that moment on that there would always be two halves to Quin. There would be a Quin that was light and bright, one that enjoyed sparring with his brother for fun and telling Cesare and Xander ridiculous plots to get them going for an afternoon of whatever he'd had planned. The prince drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Because the other part of Quin would always exist elsewhere. And that's what he would call it. For those dirty, grimy things that Quin was certain would remain for him. And Cesare could love him in both. He knew he could because hadn't he been already? Quin said he hadn't noticed but wasn't he always with Quin whenever it was possible? Excusing his guards in favor of his own protection when he was near?

He was careful to not step on the food or meade on the floor as he made his way closer. The fur on Quin's back heaved and he didn't stutter, Cesare laid a firm hand upon him and brought his other around his front to clutch him to his own body. His face pressed into the mess of Quin's hair and he hugged him so tightly. And they stayed like that for quite a few moments before anything was said. Quin had to know that just because he knew about what had happened with his uncle, it hadn't changed things. It wouldn't.

"I owe you nothing." He said plainly, planting a soft kiss to soft spot just under the other's ear as he'd shifted and moved Quin to look at him. This was the first time he'd ever truly seen fear in this man's face and it did something to the prince that was indescribable. And in that moment he'd known, by whatever means necessary, he'd bring that man to his knees. "Just as you owe me nothing." Damn him for taking something so precious away from him. For ruining his outlook on anything he'd ever have in his life. Cesare gently cupped Quin's face and his thumbs moved so slowly to wipe the bit of moisture from his cheeks. "But I cannot be whole if you are not with me, Quintus." He tried to smile but it felt more watery than anything else. His eyes fell between them for a moment and a few tears managed to squeeze their way out. He hadn't expected to feel this as deeply as he had but he should have anticipated it, knowing Quin, it was always something unexpected.

"I've waited longer than I would have liked to when it comes to asking you." He paused, swallowing hard and he looked back up at him, eyes still bright with a few unshed tears. "And I hadn't planned on tieing our engagement in with something like this but Quin." He drew in a deep breath shakily and sighed just the same. "I meant it. And I do mean it. Nothing can change my mind on this." His fingers scooped back to cup the back of his head and he felt himself starting to tremble inwardly from being so honest. "Only if you do not wish to marry me would I agree to that but this changes nothing." He thought a moment and found himself unable to stop from pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Quintus. Not the things that were done to you. Though ... " He paused, finding himself a little flustered at it all. "Though that is a part of you and I will find ways to live with and love it too." As he pulled down to look at him again, he felt some of that unease starting to slide into the back of his mind. "If you do not wish Max to know then he doesn't need to." That wasn't his place to interject. Though he thought maybe Quin would tell him in his own time. "My loyalty is to Vivec and your brother as friends and allies but, to you, I am always loyal first no matter what."

Quin moved to the end of the bed, his feet touched the ground, and he held his head in his hands, pressing his fingers against his pounding temples. He had anticipated Beau telling Cesare, but he hadn’t thought Cesare could contain himself with the knowledge. Why had he held onto it so long? Quin had to poke and prod to get him to admit it. Was he just never going to say anything about it? If Cesare had known this entire time, then he knew when he told his father and Maximus he still planned to marry Quin. But how could he even want to marry him after knowing all this? There were missing parts of Quin, parts of himself that were taken from him. He was ruined. Quin laughed bitterly and desperately, his stomach heaving as his body went against his control of it. He moved to wrap his arms around his stomach, tears brimming as he laughed and laughed and laughed. “I don’t care about what happened between you and Beau in that room.” At one point, he had, but it paled in comparison to Cesare knowing the truth.

He wiped the wetness from his eyes and stood up from the bed. He dragged a fur blanket with him, covering his upper body. Quin leaned against the wall opposite Cesare’s bed, then dragged his gaze up from the floor to meet his. “It’s only fair you know the truth,” He said softly, tilting his head back until he hit the wall. “And yes, I imagine Beau wasn’t kind about it. When I was…” Quintus inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment, “When I outgrew my uncle’s taste, he found Beau to replace me so he could have a younger version of me. Though I suspect Beau was too malleable for his tastes. His favorite thing has always been the fight, and I was too young and weak ever to win.” 

“You know the worst part about it?” Quin kicked off of the wall, cutting the distance between them in half. He stopped at Cesare’s desk, tilting a hip against it. “I thought I could endure it while my father and Maximus were at war. I was alone in that castle with him, and I took it; I swallowed it down because I didn’t have any other choice. I was twelve years old when it first happened. No one was there to help me anyway, but then they came back with you along with them, and I thought, ‘thank gods this is it’. I wouldn’t have to suffer any longer.”

Quin sighed, shaking his head. He slashed his arm across the top of the desk, sending the pitcher of mead and the tray of food crashing to the floor. “I was a fucking fool to think that would make a difference. Having them back in the castle made it worse and made him more determined. I suffered at his hands for years, and no one noticed. I was a child coming to breakfast hungover and limping, and no one noticed. Not my father, not my brother, not you.” He gripped the edge of the desk until his fingers turned white, until they ached as he ached inside for years. “The only thing that stopped him was time, and when he no longer possessed the ability to hunt me in my bed chambers, he went after my parents and then my brother and I.” 

“Beau will never be free, Cesare,” Quin said softly. “Just like I will never be free. He will always hold the pieces he took from us. I know you think you can save us. I know you want to save us, but we will never recover what he took from us. Even if he is dead, there will still be days where having hands on me makes my skin crawl and itch. There will still be nights when I dream of his weight and breath on me, and I wake up sick. His hands have permanently tainted me, and it isn’t something that I come back from.” 

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, wishing it would swallow him whole. “You deserve someone whole, and I know you won’t do it because you think you owe me something or because you pity me now that you know, but I don’t expect you to go through with marrying me. I wouldn’t if I were you, and to save your reputation with my brother, I will take the heat and call it off so you aren’t the bad guy. Just…” He sucked in a breath, feeling a knot in the center of his throat. “Please don’t tell Max what he did to me. It will kill him, and I can’t… I can’t,” Quin’s breath puffed out between the words, his chest heaving with movement. “I can’t have him know.”

[downsteepy]

i am very grateful that im not someone that has to deal with daily seizures but it is evil when it takes like a week and a half's worth of business days to recover from a seizure