#trying a different thing with the background

[f4t4-m0rg4n4]

This is annoying to me because no one is actually talking about why they're doing it. And this is probably going to piss people off, but this is coming from someone who's gone through medical entry and almost didn't get in because of a sprained knee two years ago that was put on my medical record. I know several people who didn't get through MEPs because they take 25mg of aderall.

The military is VERY strict with medical backgrounds. Basic training is rough. It's designed to break you down and build you back up. It's rough on the head and rough on the mind, and if you've had any surgeries of any kind it's hard enough. But even past that, it does impede your ability to serve if you have done those surgeries and are having treatments.

The fact is with top and bottom surgeries, you're constantly having to do treatments to upkeep them. And in regards to hormones, you have to take them constantly. If you're in a warzone, you can't do that. It's the same reason why they don't let someone with asthma or a missing limb or a knee replacement into the military. You need constant treatments or risk serious injury. If you haven't had a major surgery and/or aren't on hormones, you're fine. They'll stick you with your assigned gender at birth, yes, but the military actually care if you identify as a male, female, non-binary, gender fluid, or whatever else.

On the more controversial end of things, you need to be more focused on your duty than what pronouns you want to use. But that's a different discussion, and ultimately irrelevant to the main point I'm trying to make.

[eu-nicola]

not yours part 2

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: nothing i think

word counter: 9057

author’s note: english is not my first language and how I love to use movie quotes, please please tell me if you want to be on my taglist as I'm going to make a new one

tags: @immyowndefender @xcinnamonmalfoyx @wtfdudesblog

The night had started off quiet, too quiet for your liking. You had met up with some friends at the usual club, but soon everything became monotonous. Loud music, laughter, a few interested glances from boys you didn't care about... Nothing new. You were used to standing out, to getting attention, and today you felt a latent need for something different, something that would get you out of that routine. What you didn't expect was that the night would take an unexpected turn and that you would end up running next to Rafe Cameron, with your heart beating a thousand miles an hour.

It all started with a simple misunderstanding. A group of unknown boys approached you at the bar, insisting on drinks and comments that went from flattering to annoying in a matter of minutes. At first, you tried to ignore them, but one of them didn't get the message. His hand rested on your arm with too much confidence, pulling you as if he had the right to do so.

"Let me go," you said firmly, looking him straight in the eyes.

The boy laughed, as if your words had no weight, and continued to insist. You didn't like being treated like that, as if you were just another one they could manipulate at will. You were about to let go when Rafe appeared out of nowhere, as if he had been observing the situation from afar. His mere presence changed the dynamic in an instant.

"Do you have a problem?" Rafe asked, his tone calm but full of tension, as if he was already ready for anything.

The boys looked at him, assessing him. Rafe didn't need to say much to command respect; he was the kind of person who could make someone doubt with just his gaze. But this time, the boys decided not to back down.

"It's none of your business, buddy," one of them replied, defying the calm that still remained in the atmosphere.

And then, everything exploded.

What followed was a succession of quick movements, blows and pushes. Rafe was the first to attack, with a precision that made it clear that it was not his first fight. You, though surprised, weren't far behind. You'd always had that explosive side, that energy that made you face things without thinking twice. One of the boys got too close and without hesitation, you pushed him back with more force than he expected.

Chaos broke out. The music was still playing in the background, mixing with the screams and the sound of glasses falling to the floor. Adrenaline was running through your veins. You weren't scared; you were alive, more alive than you had felt in days.

In a matter of minutes, it was all over. The boys were either on the ground or far enough away that you wouldn't try again. You and Rafe barely looked at each other, there was just an exchange of quick glances and the urgent need to disappear.

"Let's go," he said, taking your hand without waiting for an answer.

And you ran with him, leaving the club as if you were escaping a fire. Laughter began to bubble in your chest as they ran through the dark streets, away from the chaos they had left behind. Rafe, always so serious and controlled, was laughing too, that sincere laugh he rarely showed. It was contagious, and before you knew it, you were both cracking up.

“What the hell was that?” you asked between laughs, finally stopping in a dark alley where no one could see you.

Rafe leaned against the wall, still breathing heavily. His face was illuminated by the distant lights, and for a second you realized how rare it was to see him like this, so relaxed, so… human.

“What we do best, I guess,” he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. There was a spark in his eyes, an emotion that mirrored yours.

You leaned against him, breathing deeply as you tried to calm yourself. The silence between the two of you was comfortable, a pause amidst all the adrenaline.

“You know?” you finally said, turning your head to look at him. “It was fun.”

Rafe let out a soft laugh, tilting his head at you.

“Do you like getting into trouble?” he asked you with a lopsided grin.

“No more than you do,” you replied with a wink.

After a few more minutes, Rafe straightened up.

“We better get moving before someone finds us,” he said, holding out his hand to you.

You took it without hesitation, letting him lead you back to his car. The engine roared as they drove away from the place, and you, with the window open and the wind hitting your face.

A few minutes later Rafe’s car stopped in front of your house after a ride in which both of you had remained silent. But it wasn’t awkward.

“Well, here we are, princess pogue,” Rafe said with a crooked smile, glancing at you out of the corner of your eye as he turned off the engine.

You laughed softly and turned to him, leaning your elbow on the car door. That nickname had something of a mockery to it, but it didn’t bother you. If there was one thing you had learned in all this time with him, it was that this mix of sarcasm and humor was part of his charm.

“I know. So exotic, so out of your perfect world, right?” you joked, faking an arrogant expression while you looked at your nails, as if you were the queen of the entire Outer Banks.

Rafe let out a laugh, one you had rarely heard from him, deep and sincere.

“I almost feel like I should ask you for an autograph before you enter your mansion.”

“Sure. But I would charge you… and I don’t think I would be able to afford it, Cameron.” You joked back, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head. There was something about you that threw him off, took him out of that character he always wore.

“Don’t underestimate me. Maybe I’ll surprise myself and have enough to pay for your expensive autographs.” He replied with a mocking smile.

You laughed again, enjoying that lightness that was rare when you were around him. Rafe had a reputation, and you knew it better than anyone. But at times like this, he felt different, more human, closer.

“Well, we’ll see if you get lucky next time.”

You opened the car door and climbed out, the cool night air hitting your face. From the open door, you leaned into him once more.

“Thanks for saving me from those idiots. I think I could handle it though…” you said with a playful smile.

Rafe looked at you with a mix of amusement and something else, something you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Sure, but… it doesn’t hurt to have someone watching your back, right?” He winked at you.

“No, it doesn’t hurt.” you admitted quietly.

The two of you looked at each other for a moment longer, a moment suspended in the air before he looked away and started the car again.

“See you soon.” He said before speeding off and disappearing into the darkness of the night.

You stood on the sidewalk for a second, watching the taillights of Rafe’s car fade into the distance. There was something about him, that mix of danger and calm, that made you feel alive. Something that drew you in, even when you knew you shouldn't.

With a sigh, you turned and entered your house. 

The next day, sunlight filtered timidly through the curtains of your room. You woke up early, as always. You could still feel the echo of the laughter shared with Rafe on your skin and how the emotion of the moment had left you in an almost euphoric state. But today, that emotion had to take a backseat. It was Sofia’s birthday. And that meant that your best friend needed you. 

Still between the sheets, you grabbed your phone and sent her a message:

“Happy birthday, Sof 🎉! I hope you’re ready to be the center of attention today… Although that’s not much different than any other day, right?”

Sofia’s response came almost immediately. 

“Thank you!! ❤️ I’m so excited and nervous at the same time. I don’t want anything to go wrong tonight.”

You laughed softly, imagining the mix of excitement and anxiety that was probably shining in her eyes at that moment. Sofia had always been like that, wanting everything to be perfect.

You quickly wrote a reply:

“Relax, everything will be fine. I'll come early to help you with whatever you need. You're not going to do this alone.”

“You're the best. Seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you. See you in a bit! 😊”

You got out of bed, already with a clear idea in mind. The night was going to be important for Sofia, and you were going to make sure it was perfect. After all, she was your best friend, and her happiness had always been on your priority list.

You went to the bathroom, took a shower, and got ready with the same dedication as always. You liked to be impeccable, and today would be no exception. You opted for a casual but elegant look: light shorts and a tank top in a neutral tone that highlighted your tan. Your hair was loose, with soft natural waves, and a touch of makeup that highlighted your eyes.

Before you left, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything was in its place.

You grabbed your bag and walked out, walking towards the Cameron house.

When you reached the door, you couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill. There was always something about that house that gave you a mix of nerves and anticipation. You knocked softly, and before you could wait too long, the door swung open. Sofia was there, beaming, with a wide smile and an energy that seemed contagious.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, hugging you tightly. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know where to start… there are so many things to do.”

“That’s what I’m here to do, calm you down and help you organize everything.” You hugged her back just as intensely, smiling. “First, breathe. Everything’s going to be okay. Today is your day, and you have to enjoy it.”

“I’ll try,” Sofia replied, giggling nervously as she led you inside. “But you know how I am.” If something goes wrong…

“Nothing is going to go wrong,” you interrupted her firmly. “Trust me. Now tell me, where do we start?”

Sofia led you to the kitchen, where there was an endless list of things to do: decorations, food, everything needed for a party that promised to be the event of the month.

When they finally finished, the sun was beginning to set behind the horizon. The house was impeccable and elegantly decorated. Sofia had taken care of every detail: lights were strategically hung to create a warm and luxurious atmosphere, while gold and silver tones dominated the place, reflecting the theme of the night. The atmosphere promised to be spectacular.

Sofia and you went up to her room together to get ready.

“I can’t believe everything is ready,” Sofia said as she opened the door to her closet. “I thought we would never make it.”

“See? I told you everything would turn out well,” you replied with a smile. “Now comes the best part: getting amazing.”

Sofia pulled out a long, silver-colored dress, fitted to her figure, with rhinestone details that captured the light in a mesmerizing way. While she changed, you approached your own selection of clothes that you had brought with you.

You chose a simple but elegant gold dress with thin straps that left your shoulders and back bare. It wasn’t the most impressive dress you’d ever worn, but for the occasion it was more than enough. You slid it smoothly down your body, adjusting it in place, and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“What do you think?” you asked, turning slightly to see your reflection.

Sofia, now in her silver dress, looked at you with a smile.

“You look beautiful, as always. That gold is perfect for you.”

You smiled, accepting the compliment, although deep down you still thought you could have chosen something more dazzling.

You sat in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You opted for soft, natural waves, which fell gracefully over your shoulders. You didn’t want anything too elaborate; just something that would complement the dress and enhance your face.

The makeup was simple but effective: a subtle eyeliner that highlighted your eyes, a touch of gold shadow to highlight the theme of the night, and lips in a nude tone that kept the look elegant but discreet. You made sure every detail was in place before standing up and putting the finishing touches on a pair of small, delicate earrings.

“Ready,” you said, turning to Sofia.

She looked at you with pride and excitement.

“We look amazing. Tonight is going to be perfect, I’m sorry.”

“Of course it will be,” you assured her as you both walked down the stairs. “Everything is ready, and you look spectacular. This is your night, Sof.”

The house was already beginning to fill with guests arriving one after another, dressed in matching gold and silver tones. Music floated through the air, and the lights danced softly, reflecting the luxury and exclusivity Sofia had wanted for her birthday.

As you watched everything unfold, a part of you felt calm. They had worked hard, and now it was time to enjoy.

The party was going on with a calm and elegant atmosphere. Guests moved between the decorated rooms, chatting, laughing, toasting Sofia. There was an enveloping calm that you liked; you felt comfortable, but there was also something in the air, a feeling that something could change at any moment.

You decided to take a walk around the mansion, observing the people, their gestures, their glances. You moved gracefully, with a drink in your hand, enjoying the atmosphere and that subtle feeling of being part of something special.

That was when you saw it.

Rafe was leaning against one of the walls, observing the crowd with an indecipherable expression. He didn't seem lost or bored, just... attentive. As if every movement around him had a meaning that only he could decipher.

You slowly approached him, until you were next to him.

"How was the party?" you asked him with a smile, breaking the silence between you.

Rafe turned his face slightly towards you. His blue eyes met yours for a moment, intense but calm.

"I'm enjoying myself," he replied, with that calm and confident tone, as if nothing in the world could alter it.

You nodded, and the smile remained on your face.

"Me too," you said. Silence settled between you two again, but it wasn't uncomfortable, it was as if words weren't necessary for a moment. It was just the two of you, amidst the distant murmur of the party.

Suddenly, you felt his gaze.

It wasn't a casual look. It was a lingering look, as if every detail of your face captured his attention. His eyes scanned every line, every shadow, every expression. It was an intense look, but not uncomfortable, almost as if he were in a daze, lost in that moment. There was no judgment or coldness, just something you couldn't quite define.

You noticed it. You felt it. But, to your surprise, it didn't make you nervous.

You didn't know how to feel about it. There was something intriguing about being watched like that, something that made you wonder what exactly he saw. So, almost without thinking, you looked at him too.

Your eyes searched for his. And for an instant that seemed eternal, they met. Two gazes that held each other, that understood each other without words, that explored something beyond the obvious. There was no noise around them. There was no one else at that moment.

Finally, they both separated their gazes, as if something invisible had reminded them that the world kept turning.

“Behind every beautiful thing, there is some kind of pain,” you said quietly, almost like a thought out loud.

Rafe looked at you again, this time with a slight glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He nodded slowly, as if those words resonated with something he himself understood, something he carried within.

There was nothing else to say at that moment. You gently stepped away, leaving the glass on a nearby table.

“I’m going to walk a little,” you told him, and he simply watched you as you walked away.

The fresh air greeted you as you stepped out into the garden. Each step took you away from the hustle and bustle of the party, but not from the feeling Rafe had left in you.

You walked slowly along the well-kept paths, surrounded by soft lights hanging from the trees, illuminating the path with a calm warmth. The sky was clear, and the stars twinkled softly, as if they were watching you too. You felt good, at peace, enjoying that moment of solitude, getting away from everything for a moment.

But you weren't alone for long.

You heard footsteps behind you, soft but firm. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. There was something unmistakable about Rafe's presence. A confident, calm air, but charged with something more, something that always seemed to throb beneath the surface.

He stood beside you without saying a word. There was no need to explain why he was there, or to ask him why he had decided to accompany you. He just did it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

They walked together, in silence. Neither of them felt the urge to fill the space with words. The night was enough. The soft sounds of the wind through the leaves, the crunch of gravel under their feet, and the occasional whisper of the breeze were enough company.

Rafe had his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his eyes observed everything around him with that characteristic attention, as if every detail was important. Every now and then, his eyes would drift to you, though he didn't say anything.

There was something surprisingly comfortable about that shared silence. You didn't feel compelled to speak, to explain anything, to pretend anything. Rafe seemed to understand that, and you understood it too.

They walked along a path that bordered the garden, passing by a small pond where the reflection of the golden lights from the party sparkled in the water. You stopped for a moment, watching as the soft waves distorted the lights, creating dancing patterns. Rafe stopped beside you, watching the same thing.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you finally commented, breaking the silence, but with a soft voice, as if you didn’t want to disturb the calm of that moment.

Rafe nodded, a smile almost imperceptible on his face.

“Yes, it is.”

The silence returned, but this time it was different. It was a silence filled with understanding, with something that didn’t need to be said out loud. Both of you continued walking, slowly advancing through the garden.

At some point, his steps aligned perfectly with yours, as if walking together was something you had always done. There was no rush. You were just there, enjoying the night, the calm.

The silence continued between you, but at that moment, you felt it was time to go back, to get back to reality. You looked at Rafe, who was still walking beside you, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“I think I should head back to the party,” you said, keeping your voice light, but with a small smile, “They’re going to miss you. I’ll come back later.”

Rafe looked at you then, a glint of understanding in his eyes. He didn’t seem upset, rather, it seemed like he had been waiting for you to say it. He nodded slightly and, without losing his calm, glanced up at the starry sky.

“You’re right.” His tone was relaxed, but there was a spark in his eyes that made it clear that you didn’t care much about the party or the others.

You both stopped in front of the garden entrance, as if you somehow knew that the walk had come to an end. The party continued in the distance, laughter and conversations floating in the air.

“I’ll see you later then,” Rafe said with a slight smile.

He took a step back, giving you room to turn around and head back into the hustle and bustle of the party.

With a small wave of his hand, you began to walk back.

“See you later,” you said as you walked away, still staring at him for a moment, knowing that even though you were physically walking away, somehow, the words that weren’t said between you would still be floating in the air. 

Rafe stood there, watching you go, before turning around again and heading back to the party. 

After you both returned to the party, the atmosphere had changed slightly. The music was still playing, but something in the air seemed lighter. People were gathered around the center table, where Sofia was at the front, surrounded by her friends, family, and loved ones. They were all waiting for the moment when she would blow out the candles, the perfect ending to their celebration. 

The table was adorned with gold and silver details, like the theme of the party, and in the center, a large three-tiered cake dominated the stage. The candles glowed softly, with the light dancing over the smiling faces of everyone present. Sofia looked radiant, her dress shining under the lights of the room, and her eyes reflected a mix of excitement and gratitude.

Rafe approached you, a glass in his hand, and offered it to you with a discreet smile. It was clear that the tension between the two of you had not completely dissipated, but at that moment, everything seemed simpler, lighter. He raised his glass in your direction, waiting for you to toast with it.

“To Sofia,” he said in a soft tone, looking towards the table, where Sofia was already ready to blow out the candles.

You raised your glass as well, nodding with a smile. “To Sofia,” you repeated, feeling that the night, despite everything, had something special, something you couldn’t describe, but you knew deep down. You both toasted, clinking glasses with a small sound that resonated in the air.

Sofia, with her gaze full of hope, closed her eyes and blew out the candles. At that moment, everyone present kept a brief silence, waiting for her to make her wish. The bated breath in the room felt like a bubble about to burst, and then, as if everything had been calculated, Sofia opened her eyes and smiled.

“Thank you all for being here,” she said, her voice warm and full of emotion, looking at everyone present. “Thank you for this very special day.”

Applause filled the room, and the music took control of the night again, as people began to laugh and enjoy themselves again. Rafe, for his part, gave you one last look before diverting his attention to his group of friends.

The night continued, filled with laughter and toasts.

The next day, the sun shone brightly on the mansion and the atmosphere remained relaxed, almost as if the party the day before had been just a distant dream. The pool sparkled invitingly under the midday heat, the clear water reflecting the clear sky. You had already begun to enjoy the day, swimming and letting yourself be carried away by the calm of the place. The water surrounded you, cool and refreshing, as you swam back and forth, enjoying the peace of those solitary moments.

Rafe and Sofia were in the lounger area, almost ignoring you in their own world.

After a while, you decided to get out of the water. You laid down on one of the lounge chairs, feeling the sun on your skin. But soon, bored of just sitting there doing nothing, you got up and headed over to the pool table. You grabbed a cue and, in order to distract yourself, decided to play a little, not really interested in winning, just to pass the time.

It wasn't long before Rafe approached you, watching with a slight smile on his face.

"Do you dare to play a game?" he asked, also taking a cue and adjusting his shirt a little.

Sofia, from her spot by the pool, watched the two of you, somewhat distant, but not enough to not notice how you interacted. It could have been her curious look, or perhaps the way her body was slightly tense, but at that moment, something seemed different.

The game started with laughter and small jokes between you and Rafe. He, always a bit of a tease, would try to tease you with some comment or make you lose focus, but all in good spirits. You realized that, at that moment, there was no pressure. There was no tension, just the sound of the cue hitting the balls, the laughter and the words that intertwined naturally.

Meanwhile, Sofia stood there, watching in silence.

Rafe, more focused on the game than anything else, made a couple of jokes to you while he won it, but you weren't intimidated. You laughed, both at his attitude and at the little tricks he tried, although without being really competitive, which kept the atmosphere light.

At one point, your cue missed on a crucial shot and Rafe couldn't help but laugh.

"That's the best you've got?" he said, taking his turn to give it the final blow.

Finally, after a few rounds, the match ended and Rafe emerged victorious, albeit with a slight hint of irony, as he knew you had let him win a couple of times just to not make the moment too tense.

Sofia approached, as if she had been waiting for them to finish so she could resume the chat between the three of you.

The day progressed slowly, the sun shining brightly on the pool and the gardens of the mansion. The air was getting warmer and warmer, the atmosphere relaxed with soft music in the background. Sofia and you had laughed together, enjoying the little jokes.

As the sun began to set, dyeing the sky orange and pink hues, Sofia received a call. Her face changed slightly as she looked at her phone, and after a few seconds of conversation, she told you that she had to leave, that her family needed her.

“Do you want me to go with you?” you asked, without thinking too much about what you were saying. An impulse, a need to not let her go alone.

But Sofia looked at you with a smile, her voice soft but firm.

“It’s not necessary. Stay here, enjoy the day,” she replied with a calm that almost surprised you.

So, without being able to do much else, you watched her leave, watching her walk away down the path that led to the entrance of the mansion. You stood there, watching the sunset for a long moment. Something in the air, in the stillness of the place, made you feel uncomfortable, as if everything was about to change. The house suddenly seemed empty, and the sound of your own footsteps echoed in the silence that settled around it.

With the intention of not staying there thinking about what you didn’t want to think about, you decided to go out to the backyard, looking for a distraction. Maybe just a little fresh air would help you calm the anxiety that was beginning to grow inside you.

The patio was quiet, with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and the soft murmur of the pool water, but the quiet only served to make you feel even more nervous. You walked a little further, approaching the trees and shadows of the garden, trying to escape a situation that made you feel uncomfortable.

It was then that you heard his footsteps. Rafe, who had not left you alone all day, appeared behind you, his elongated figure projecting over the grass. At first you didn't say anything, as if the silence between the two of you was some kind of invisible wall that you didn't even want to touch.

"Are you going to stay here alone?" Rafe asked, his voice soft, but with something in it that made you turn to look at him. He didn't seem to notice the tension in the air, or maybe he felt it too, but didn't know how to handle it.

And it was at that moment, when his eyes met yours, that everything became more intense. A simple exchange of glances turned into something deeper, something that both of you seemed to understand without the need for words. He was close, close enough for you to feel his presence. His gaze, once calm, now seemed charged with something else. You couldn't say exactly what it was, but it was there, like an invisible current that silently united you.

You both stood there, as if suspended in time, not knowing whether to move forward or back. You wanted to break that silence, but the truth was that you didn't know how. The fact that he was so close, his soft breathing, his gaze fixed on you, made everything much more complicated.

Rafe took a step towards you, without saying a word, as if he was looking for something in your expression, something that would make you give in. Your body reacted before your mind could process it, taking a step back, but not really moving away from him. It was as if gravity had brought them together in that instant, an invisible force pulling them both to the same place. The tension was palpable, like a thin thread that tightened with every millimeter of space they shared. 

You felt trapped in the moment, as if your thoughts were caught between the need to flee and the need to stay there. And although you didn't want to admit it, you were attracted to him, and that terrified you. Something about his closeness, his presence, made you feel vulnerable, but at the same time, something in you wanted him not to move away. 

Rafe, it seemed, felt it too. He stared at you a little longer, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move, or as if he was undecided between saying something or simply remaining suspended in the air in that moment. Finally, it was he who broke the silence with a slight smile, a smile that, although it seemed relaxed, hid something deeper, something you knew you couldn't decipher. 

“I don't know what we're doing here.” he said quietly, as if he didn't want to break the spell that had fallen between the two of you.

You looked at each other, unable to formulate a response, and in that instant, the gap between the two of you closed. Without saying another word, you turned around and began to walk, breaking that moment of tension, knowing that what you felt was not something you could control or explain. But, at the same time, you couldn't deny that a part of you didn't want that moment to end.

The courtyard no longer seemed so welcoming, and you no longer knew whether to leave, stay, or face it. But something told you that tonight, things would not be the same as before.

The night was passing slowly, silence enveloping the atmosphere. Sofia had not yet returned, and although you had tried not to think about it, there was something in you that already predicted that things would change. You did not know exactly how or why, but you felt a pressure in the air.

Hours passed while you waited for her return, but when you finally received her message, you knew that everything had fallen apart. “I will not return tonight. I have things to resolve.” The words floated before your eyes, and something inside you tightened. You knew that the situation was becoming more complicated, and at the same time, you felt a strange mix of relief and nervousness. You were left alone, not knowing what to do, with that feeling that everything you had been avoiding was finally going to happen.

You looked at Rafe, who had been silent in some corner of the house. He seemed so oblivious to what was going through your mind, but there was also something in his presence that attracted you, something you could no longer ignore.

“Sofia won’t be back tonight,” you said, trying to sound calm, but your voice was shaking a little. “I think I’ll go.”

Rafe looked at you with a slightly crooked smile, as if he had been waiting for that answer. The sparkle in his eyes, the slight glint of amusement in his expression, made you hesitate for a moment.

“Don’t you want to go out for a while?”

His invitation was like a temptation, a soft voice that made you reconsider. It was hard to resist the idea of ​​escaping from everything, of leaving behind the tension that was building in the air, of feeling a small spark of freedom, even if it was only for a couple of hours.

You, knowing it wasn’t the right thing to do, hesitated for a moment. How wrong could it be? After all, you weren’t doing anything “serious,” you were just a couple of friends, right? The answer seemed more like an excuse than a justification, but still, something inside you pushed you to say:

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

Rafe smiled immediately, and the way his eyes sparkled made your heart beat a little faster, but you forced yourself to calm down. You didn't know if you were fooling yourself, but the night was young, and the world seemed more accessible at the moment.

The two of you walked outside, the city streets deserted and quiet under the starry sky. The moonlight illuminated everything softly, and for some reason, that silence was comforting. The escape you were looking for surrounded you, and with each step, the tension in the air faded, although you knew that, deep down, there was no escape from what was really happening between the two of you.

You didn't talk much as you walked, but the company was enough. The sound of your footsteps and their calm breathing were the only things you could hear, and yet, there was a silent burden, something you both tried to ignore, but it was there, palpable in the air. Something in their gazes, something in their closeness.

As time went on, aimlessly, they began to laugh, to chat about trivial things, as if trying not to think about the obvious would help them relax. You realized that, for a moment, everything seemed easier.

It was when the first lights of dawn began to touch the horizon, that something in the atmosphere became almost palpable, a touch, a spark. They both found themselves standing close, too close to each other, as if an invisible force attracted them in a way that neither could deny.

You could hear their breathing, ragged, almost synchronized, as if at that moment nothing else existed in the world but the two of them. They were so close that you could feel their warmth, their presence, and that small line between what was right and what was not blurred.

You felt unable to move, as if everything you had been thinking about, everything you had wanted to avoid, was about to break. The urge to reach out to him, to follow the desire that was growing between you two, was stronger than ever. But something inside you made you stop. A clear thought, a reminder of what really mattered to you.

“This is wrong, Rafe,” you said in a shaky but firm voice as you took a step back, looking out at the horizon. “We should stay friends. I don’t want to complicate things. It’s not what we need.”

Silence settled between the two of you, and he stared at you. His eyes, which had previously been bright with amusement, now held something else, something like a mix of understanding and perhaps a bit of disappointment.

“Are we friends?” he asked, almost with a sad smile, as if he wasn’t sure of the answer.

You stayed silent for a moment, searching for the answer in your own feelings. Finally, you decided to give the answer that, at that moment, seemed the most sensible.

“I guess so,” you said, a sigh escaping your lips.

Rafe nodded slowly, as if he finally understood something he had been searching for in you.

“That’s good to know,” he murmured, and for a moment, everything between you seemed to calm down.

But, you knew everything had changed. You couldn’t just go back to how things were before. Without another word, you turned around, feeling the weight of the goodbye, but unable to help it.

“I’m leaving alone,” you said, without looking back.

Rafe didn’t say anything, although hesitation could be seen in his eyes. He didn’t want to let you go, but deep down he knew he couldn’t keep insisting. For some reason, in the end, he didn't say anything, he just watched as you walked away. 

You returned to your house, the cold morning air caressing your skin, and although you felt like something had changed between you and him, you also knew that, somehow, you had made the right decision. Although, deep down, you wondered if it really was. 

After what happened that night with Rafe, something inside you changed. An invisible barrier rose, separating you from him and, consequently, from Sofia as well. The awkwardness that was once just a spark had now become a smoldering fire, burning inside you every time you thought about him, about how close you were, about how you almost crossed a line that shouldn't be crossed. 

You decided that the best thing to do was to walk away. Guilt weighed on you like a burden you couldn't let go of, and although you wanted to pretend that everything was okay, your conscience wouldn't let you rest. You made up excuses not to see them. When Sofia invited you out, to the beach, the pool, or any other gathering, you always had something else to do.

—Sorry, I have to study.

—I can't, I feel a little bad today.

—I have to help my mom with something.

The excuses piled up, one after another, until Sofia started to notice. At first, she believed you. She was your friend, she trusted you. But after several weeks of evasions, her messages started to sound different, more insistent, almost worried.

—Are you okay? We haven't seen you lately.

—Strange that you don't want to come... we miss you.

—Are you avoiding something?

You responded evasively, trying not to raise suspicions, but you knew that Sofia wasn't stupid. However, you preferred to deal with her concern rather than face what was really tormenting you: Rafe.

He, on the other hand, seemed unchanging. There was no change in his behavior, at least not visible. He didn't seem to feel the same discomfort or guilt that haunted you. He would send you messages from time to time, casual, as if nothing had happened between you.

—Are you going to the party tonight?

—Are you okay? I haven't seen you lately.

—Sofia asked about you, I told her you're probably busy.

Sometimes you read his messages and ignored them. You didn't want to fall into that dynamic of responding, of pretending everything was normal. But other times, the temptation was stronger, and you responded, although coldly, without giving rise to anything else.

—I'm fine.

—I don't think I'm going.

—Thanks for letting me know.

Each word of yours was measured, each message carefully worded to not lead to a deeper conversation. But Rafe didn't seem affected. He didn't chase you, he didn't insist, and that made you even angrier.

How could he be so calm after all? How could he act like nothing had happened while you were drowning in guilt? What hurt you most was that, deep down, you knew that was his nature. Rafe Cameron didn't feel remorse. He never had. He was always like that: cold, calculating, and seemingly incapable of feeling guilt.

And that made you even angrier. Because how could you be angry at him for being exactly the way he always was? There was a reason he always looked down on you, there was a reason he always looked at you with that mix of arrogance and disdain. Because to him, nothing really mattered. He wasn't afraid to cross boundaries, because to Rafe, boundaries were just an abstract concept that he could ignore when it suited him. 

You felt caught in a contradiction. You hated him for not feeling anything, but at the same time, a part of you envied that indifference. Because while you carried the weight of what could have happened, he kept going, as if you were just another person in his life. 

There were days when you wanted to confront him, ask him directly why he didn't feel the same as you, why he didn't seem affected. But the fear of facing his indifference stopped you. Because you knew that if you did, his answer would be cold, sharp, and maybe make you feel worse. 

And so, the weeks kept passing. You avoided any place where you might run into him. If you knew Sofia and Rafe were going to be at a party, you just didn’t go. If you heard his name in conversation, you walked away before they could talk about him anymore. Even on social media, you avoided looking at anything that might remind you of that night, that closeness, that moment you almost crossed paths.

But despite all your efforts, Rafe was still there, in the back of your mind. He was like a shadow you couldn’t erase, a presence that followed you, even when he wasn’t around.

One afternoon, as you were checking your phone, a new message from him popped up on your screen. You stared at it for a moment, hesitating to open it. Just seeing it made your heart beat faster, a mix of anxiety and something you didn’t want to admit.

—You’re really quiet lately. Everything okay?

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to decide whether to respond or not. You knew a part of you wanted to, wanted to keep that connection, even if it was minimal. But you also knew that every message, every interaction, only made things more complicated.

Finally, you left the message unanswered, turned off your phone, and sighed. The conflict was still there, inside you, a battle between desire and reason, between what you felt for Rafe and what you knew was right. And all the while, he was still Rafe: untouchable, indifferent, and always one step ahead.

You had built up a routine of avoidance: excuses for not going out, cold and calculated messages, avoiding meetings where you knew he would be. You had decided that the best thing for you was to keep your distance and protect both your heart and your friendship with Sofia. You didn't want to be "the other." You didn't want to be the reason everything fell apart.

But Rafe seemed to have other plans.

He kept looking for you. His messages became more frequent, his gazes more intense every time you met by chance. And when you avoided him, he found a way to close the distance, to make you feel his presence, as if he knew exactly which buttons to push to make you doubt your decisions.

One afternoon, while you were at a local café, enjoying a moment alone, you saw his figure approaching. Tall, self-assured, with that look that always seemed to carry a dangerous mix of arrogance and attraction. There was no escape this time.

“Can I sit down?” Rafe asked, even though he was already dragging the chair in front of you.

You sighed, trying to keep your composure.

“Sure, but I don’t stay long,” you replied nonchalantly.

He smiled, as if he perfectly understood the game you were playing. He knew you were trying to keep him at bay, and it seemed to amuse him more than it put him off.

“Are you hiding from me?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table and staring at you.

“No. Why would I?” you replied, avoiding his eyes as you stirred your coffee.

His gaze burned into you. It was as if he could see right through you, piercing through every one of your carefully raised defenses. You knew you shouldn’t fall for his game, but with every passing second you felt your self-control slowly crumble.

“I don’t know… I barely see you lately. Sofia notices it too.” His tone was casual, but there was something else there, a hidden insinuation.

“I’ve been busy,” you said, shrugging.

The silence stretched on, and when you finally looked up, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was something in his eyes, a mix of desire, frustration, and… defiance. Like he was waiting for you to be the one to break that barrier.

“You should focus on Sofia,” you murmured, diverting the conversation back to where you wanted to take it. “She’s the one who matters.”

Rafe leaned a little closer to you, closing the distance.

“What if it’s not just Sofia?” he whispered.

Your hands tightened around the cup. That line, that edge you’d both been skirting since that night, was dangerously close again. And the worst part of it all was that, even though you knew you should walk away, part of you wanted to know what would happen if you didn’t.

“We can’t, Rafe. I don’t want to be “the other.” I’m not going to ruin what I have with Sofia for… this. “Your voice was firm, but there was a barely perceptible tremor in your words.

He was silent for a moment, studying every expression on your face. He didn’t seem upset or disappointed. On the contrary, he seemed intrigued, as if your words were a challenge rather than a refusal.

“For this?” he repeated with a half smile.

“For whatever this is,” you clarified, trying to sound confident.

Rafe sighed, but didn’t move away. On the contrary, he rested a hand on the table, almost brushing yours, so close that you could feel the warmth of his skin.

“What if it’s not what you think?” he asked quietly. “What if we can handle it without ruining anything?”

You bit your lip, fighting back the emotions that threatened to overflow. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he could control himself, that you could keep everything in order, but you knew that things were never that simple.

“I can’t risk it,” you said at last, pulling your hand away and breaking contact. “I don’t want to lose her. Or myself.”

Rafe nodded slowly, but his eyes were still fixed on you. There was something in his gaze that wouldn’t go away: desire mixed with stubbornness. Like this was just a chapter in a story he was determined to continue.

“Okay,” he murmured, getting up from his chair. “But you can’t walk away forever.”

You stayed silent as he left, leaving an air heavy with tension and a racing heartbeat in your chest. You knew he was right. You couldn’t walk away forever. But for now, you promised yourself that you would keep trying, because if you got close again, you knew that this time you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

That same day, you returned home with your heart tangled in a tangle of emotions. The tension you had been avoiding was no longer something you could ignore. You felt the need to talk to someone, to find clarity in the midst of the chaos that had broken out in your mind. However, you chose to lock yourself in your room, hoping that the silence of the night would give you the answers you were looking for.

But your mother didn't let you isolate yourself for long.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly from the door, peeking in with a curious, motherly look. She had noticed your behavior in the last few days. The constant excuses, the long sighs, the nights when you seemed to be in another world.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m just tired,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you settled into bed.

She wasn’t fooled. She walked into your room, closed the door behind her, and sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes, full of wisdom and tenderness, looked at you with that mix of understanding and concern that only a mother could have.

“Honey, I know you too well. Something’s going on. Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed. You knew she wasn’t going to give up, and somehow that comforted you. You took a moment before answering.

“It’s complicated, Mom. I don’t know how to explain it without it sounding… bad.” You looked down, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

She waited patiently, giving you the time you needed. When you finally raised your head, you found in her gaze an invitation to vent.

“There’s someone…” you began, choosing your words carefully. “Someone I shouldn’t be with. He’s a friend’s boyfriend, and… I don’t know how it happened, but everything is a mess now. I try to get away, but it seems like the more I try, the harder it gets. It’s like he doesn’t want to let me go.”

Your mother nodded slowly, processing each word. She didn’t interrupt you, she just let you talk.

“I know it’s wrong, and I feel guilty, but at the same time… there’s something about him that I can’t ignore. It’s like there’s something between us that shouldn’t be there, but I can’t help it either.”

Your mother looked at you with an expression that was a mix of empathy and nostalgia. “I understand more than you think,” she said with a soft smile. “I went through something similar when I was young.”

You were shocked. “You? Really?” you asked, incredulous. You had never imagined your mother in a similar situation.

She nodded, settling herself better on the bed. There was a sparkle in her eyes, as if she was remembering a fragment of her own youth.

“Yes, before I met your father, there was someone… someone who made me feel alive, who shook my world in ways I had never experienced. He was charming, ambitious, and yes, he had a lot of money.” She laughed softly. “But he wasn’t the person I was supposed to be with. It was all intense, but not always intense is the best for you.”

You looked at her curiously, as if you were seeing a side of her you had never known.

“And what happened?” you asked, intrigued.

She sighed, as if the memory took her back to those days. “In the end, I realized I couldn’t live in that whirlwind. There was a lot of fire, but not enough to build something lasting. And then your father came along. He was different. Calmer, more stable… but real. And I realized that was what I needed.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “So you had a rich boyfriend too, that you left for love?.” you joked, trying to lighten the conversation.

Your mother laughed, the warm sound filling the room. “It seems like it’s a tradition, doesn’t it?” she replied humorously. “But money isn’t everything, honey. Love is a crazy thing. Sometimes it takes you down paths you don’t expect, and other times it makes you see that what you really need is right in front of you, even if it’s not what you had imagined.”

You stayed silent, reflecting on her words. It was strange to think of your mother going through something similar, but it also made you feel less alone. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had felt that confusion, that forbidden attraction that seemed to have no way out.

“So what do I do?” you finally asked, seeking advice.

She looked at you tenderly and stroked your hair. “Do what you feel is right for you. Don’t punish yourself for feeling, but don’t lose yourself in something that could hurt you either. Sometimes walking away is the hardest thing, but also the most necessary thing.

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight on your chest lighten for a moment at least. Maybe, given time, you could find your own path, one that didn’t leave you trapped between what you wanted and what was right.

[greengoblinswifey]

Break Up With Your Girlfriend II— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you can’t help but be jealous of your older sister and nicholas’ relationship but in the end, who’s the real winner?

warnings— bitchy!reader, infidelity, angst, crying, jealousy, fluff, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, arguing, happy ending but not for everyone(lmao).

a/n— i do NOT condone ts in real life nor is this a scenario nicholas would be in, this is all fantasy and was requested my oomf!

Part I

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

The apartment was eerily quiet, except for the low hum of the television and the occasional laugh from your sister as she snuggled into Nicholas on the couch. They seemed so wrapped up in each other, and it made something inside you twist. You'd never felt more uncomfortable in their presence, especially when they were so open with their affection for each other.

You sat on the armchair, pretending to scroll through your phone, though you couldn't focus. They were just too comfortable. Nicholas had his arm draped over your sister’s shoulders, his hand resting on her thigh, casually tracing circles along her brown skin as she leaned against him. The warmth between them was obvious, and it made your heart ache in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You rolled your eyes. “God, you guys are disgusting,” you muttered, not loud enough for them to hear.

Your sister glanced at you from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t stop smiling up at Nicholas. He grinned back, his hand moving to the back of her neck to pull her into a kiss. You couldn’t help but look away, your stomach twisting with jealousy.

But what stung more was that he didn’t seem to notice you. He was lost in her, his focus completely on your sister. The way he kissed her, how he whispered sweet things to her, the way she smiled so brightly—it all made your chest ache with a kind of longing you couldn't explain.

You tried to ignore it, tried to focus on anything other than the sight of them. But it was impossible. Their closeness, their affection, it just felt like too much. It had been like this for the past couple of weeks. The moments and sex you shared with Nicholas when your sister wasn’t around seemed to fade into the background now, barely remembered in the wake of their bond.

You knew you shouldn’t be feeling like this, that you should be happy for your older sister, but seeing them together only made the knot of jealousy in your stomach tighten. You tried to push the feeling away, but it wouldn’t go.

Later that evening, you could hear them in the other room. The muffled noises of soft moans and whispered words drifted through the thin walls. Your sister’s voice rose higher and higher as the sounds of skin slapping skin followed. You rolled over in bed, clutching the pillow to your face, trying to drown out the sounds. But it was impossible. Every breath, every sound—they were so loud.

It was a reminder of the night they’d spent together countless times before, a reminder of the intimacy you’d shared with Nicholas. But now it was different. It was her he was with, and it was her he was giving all of himself to.

You fought the tears, but they came anyway. You had no right to feel this way. You told yourself you shouldn’t, but that didn’t make it stop.

When the sounds finally stopped, you waited. The silence seemed to stretch on, too long, too heavy. The door creaked open, and there he was—Nicholas, stepping out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was messy, his eyes tired but still warm. He looked satisfied, and something about it made your chest tighten all over again.

He froze when he saw you, sitting there in the dark, tears streaking down your face. His expression shifted from exhaustion to concern in an instant. Without saying a word, he crossed the room, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, his voice gentle as he stroked your hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You couldn't stop the tears, and you didn’t try. You buried your face against his chest, his skin warm under your cheek. “It’s not fair,” you muttered, your voice breaking. “She gets to have you and- and I’m just here. Always just here.”

Nicholas’ arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. “Baby, don’t cry. You know it’s not like that.”

You pulled away just enough to look at him, your eyes red and puffy. “Don’t fucking touch me after you’ve fucked her,” you said, your voice shaky. “I can’t—I can’t do this.”

He seemed taken aback for a moment, his gaze softening. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held you tighter, rubbing circles on your back in a soothing gesture.

“I didn’t, shit, I didn’t mean for you to feel this way,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You mean everything to me. You know that, right?”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t look away from him. “But you’re with her. You’re always with her and fucking her.”

Nicholas’ lips brushed against your forehead, then kissed away your tear. “I didn’t mean to hurt you princess,” he murmured. “I used protection, okay? And I wasn’t thinking about her. I was thinking about you. The whole time. You’re the one I want.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you just stared at him, unsure how to feel. There was something about his sincerity that made the jealousy burn even deeper, but there was also that small sliver of warmth in your chest that told you he was telling the truth.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He kissed your forehead again, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I never wanted to make you feel like this. But don’t worry. You’re not just some other girl, baby.”

You didn’t say anything in response, your thoughts too tangled. You knew this situation was messy, that you shouldn’t feel this way, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted him in a way you shouldn’t. You wanted the connection that he shared with your sister, but was that something you could have?

Later, you found yourself once again alone with him, your sister having gone out to run errands with her homegirls. Nicholas was sitting on the couch, his arm draped over the back, his gaze following you as you paced the living room. He looked like he wanted to say something, but you didn’t want to hear it.

You knew the rules. You knew the lines you shouldn’t cross. But it felt impossible to keep your distance from him.

He must have noticed the tension, because when he stood up, his voice was soft. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer right away, only glanced at him. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. You felt the heat between you, even when you tried to step away.

“I’m fine,” you lied, though you knew he could see through you. His fingers brushed your arm, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, even if just for a moment.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen or to hurt you,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

And in that moment, you didn’t know what was real anymore. The jealousy, the longing, the desire—it all twisted inside you, and you didn’t know what would come of it.

“I can’t stop thinking about you too, I miss your touch,” you pouted.

“No pouting baby, I can fuck you in your room, give you what you want,” he suggested.

You didn’t get a word out before he picked you up, making you squeal and carried you to the room you practically lived in with the amount of time you spent with them.

“Please, fuck me,” you begged.

He pulled up your white top, leaning down to suck on your boobs as you arched into him, the warmth of his mouth contrast to the coldness you felt in your heart towards his relationship.

You both knew you didn’t have much time, you had to make it quick and worthwhile before she got home.

He pulled himself out of his sweats and you bit your lips seeing he was already hard and ready.

“Who’s that for?” you asked, pulling off your shorts and thong.

“Oh baby, it’s all for you, I can’t even fucking get hard with her unless I’m thinking about you, my dick is always hard for you.”

His words were more than enough to calm the jealousy coursing through your veins. Wrapping your legs around him, you pulled his muscular frame on top of you, desperately grinding against him to get some friction.

He rubbed the tip against your folds, making you squirm underneath him.

“Please Nick, no teasing, I need you so bad, please fuck me,” you cried.

Your begging was put to an end as you felt Nicholas thrust into you, your jaw falling agape as he filled you to the brim.

“That’s it, shut the fuck up and take my cock,” he murmured against your ear.

He started fucking you hard, a testament to the anger and tension you’d both been feeling about the entire situation. The bed creaked under you, and your tits bounced as his hips snapped against you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered.

“Such a filthy mouth, I’ll have to fuck it next time,” he chuckled.

“P-please, I want you to do any and everything to me,” you moaned, tightening your legs around him.

He began slamming into you harder, leaning down to swirl his tongue around your nipples. Your hands tangled in his messy hair as you practically screamed for him to fuck you harder.

“Harder baby? Fuck you’re really needy and this goddamn pussy? Drenched,” he panted.

You both were so engulfed in each other, Nicholas pounding you like he would never get the opportunity ever again, that you didn’t hear the front door slam. You were whimpering so loudly, you didn’t hear your sister’s bags fall to the ground and her heels click loudly against the floor as she ran to where she heard the sounds.

The room door was already wide open and as you opened your eyes, they were met with the shocked face of your older sister. She stood in the door way, her hands trembling as your jaw fell agape, just the way yours was except only one of you was enjoying yourself.

“Oh God Nick, I love your big fucking cock inside me,” you moaned, staring right at your sister as she stared back, frozen.

“And I love this wet pussy, fuck—you’re so much tighter than her,” he moaned, his thrusts almost erratic.

As the words left his lips, you arched into him, moaning his name loudly as your orgasm ripped through you. You couldn’t believe you squirted while your sister watched her boyfriend fuck you—her innocent little sister.

“What the fuck?” she screamed, finally finding her voice.

Nicholas bolted off you, startled.

“Oh shit, he said, pulling the sheets to cover him.

“Don’t oh shit me you fucking disgusting piece of shit! My sister? Really? You ruined her innocence like this?” she yelled.

Your face contorted in confusion. The stupid bitch wasn’t even blaming you, you were somehow still her innocent little sister—for now at least. She was blaming him.

“I’m— I’m, I really—” Nicholas struggled to get the words out.

“You’re disgusting,” she screamed, her hands shaking, “you can’t even fucking apologize to me.”

“And sis, oh my fucking God, are you okay? Why would you do this?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“Because you don’t deserve him, I do, I want him, he’s mine, it’s not fair you get to have him,” you pouted, pulling Nicholas close to you as he placed a kiss on your temple.

“Get out, both of you,” she said, almost not believing the words leaving her lips. She couldn’t believe what you had said to her and somehow, she still saw you as the innocent little sister that stole her clothes and her toys when you were younger, Nicholas was the new toy.

“Oh sweetheart, I think you should get out, my name’s on the lease, really, this is my apartment,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I think you should stay at mom’s for a while,” you sneered.

“Oh, you whore!” she yelled, charging at you, the veil finally lifting from her eyes to see you for who you truly were.

Nicholas immediately jumped in front of her, stopping her from laying a finger on you.

“Get your goddamn hands off me,” she screamed and that’s when the waterworks started. She barely started crying before she ran out of the apartment, presumably to your mother’s.

“Well, that was a disaster,” you laughed and Nicholas chuckled afterwards.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to—

You placed a kiss on your new man’s lips, silencing him.

“We’ll deal with all the drama in the morning, right now, we need to pick up where we left off so you can cum inside me,” you giggled.

You were an evil bitch, good dick really did a number on you. But you could easily play the young and naive card if the other bitch decided to inform your mother. For now, you could enjoy Nicholas, he was finally yours and yours alone.

[lvnchh]

GUESS

Abby anderson x female reader inspired by Billie Eilish feat in Guess

I’m a minor, and I write smut. Please, if you want to complain or insult me about it, just don’t interact. 🙏🏻 It’s my life, and I’m free to write whatever I want as long as I’m not bothering anyone. Also, please don’t judge any grammar mistakes, as English is not my native language. I’m sorry if the smut or the whole story isn’t that good.

Smut below the cut.

The soft hum of Tokyo nightlife buzzed around you both as you slid into a quiet booth in a tucked-away izakaya. It was late, the streets a blur of neon and rain-slicked reflections, but you didn't notice much of it anymore. Your focus was on Abby. Always on Abby.

Her presence was magnetic-broad shoulders and toned arms stretched beneath her simple black tank top. Her fishtail braid, slightly undone from the humidity, rested on her shoulder. And those eyes. Piercing, like they could see right through you, even the things you tried to keep hidden.

But tonight? Tonight you didn't want to hide a thing.

She sat beside you instead of across, the smell of her lingering-something earthy and familiar. You felt her thigh brush against yours as she shifted closer, her arm resting casually behind you on the worn leather of the booth. Abby wasn't subtle. She rarely was.

"You gonna drink that, or just stare at me all night?" she teased, her low voice a delicious rasp that made your cheeks warm. You glanced at the glass of sake in front of you, but your thoughts weren't on the drink. They hadn't been since the moment she saw you get dressed earlier. The way her eyes darkened as she caught a glimpse of black lace peeking out from the waistband of your jeans-it had been deliberate on your part. You didn't think she'd notice so quickly.

But Abby always noticed.

The first time she picked those out for you, it had been a joke. A playful nudge at the store, her teasing grin as she held up the delicate black pair with the tiny bows, knowing damn well they were a far cry from the usual comfort you preferred. "Bet you'd look good in these," she'd said, low and confident, daring you to blush.

And you did.

You hadn't expected to actually love them, let alone wear them for her. But tonight? Tonight felt different.

"I already know what you're wearing under there,"

Abby murmured, her lips close to your ear now, her voice barely audible over the faint jazz playing in the background. Her free hand traced the seam of your jeans under the table, featherlight but enough to make your breath hitch.

"You think so?" you asked, attempting a coy smile, but the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

"I know so." she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips "Saw 'em when you sat down. They're all I've been thinkin' about."

Her fingers pressed just slightly against your thigh, and you cursed yourself for the way your body responded instantly to her touch.

"Abby-"

"Hmm?" she asked, feigning innocence as her hand slid higher, her calloused fingers brushing against the edge of your waistband. "You wanna keep pretending, or should we cut the act?"

You bit your lip, your pulse racing. Abby had a way of unraveling you without even trying.

"I'm not pretending," you whispered, turning to meet her gaze. Her smirk softened, replaced by something darker, hungrier.

"Good," she said. "I can't stop thinking about them," her voice low as her fingers ghosted along the edge of your waistband. "The lace. The bows. How perfect they look on you."

Your breath caught, and you managed to mumble, "Abby-"

her lips brushing your ear. Her tone was soft, but the heat behind it made your stomach tighten. "Don't act like you didn't know what this would do to me."

You swallowed hard, fighting the heat creeping up your neck, but the corner of her mouth lifted, satisfied with your reaction.

She leaned closer, her hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to graze your skin. Her touch was firm, grounding, and made every nerve in your body light up.

"C'mon," she said, voice dropping even lower.

"Let's get out of here."

Abby had you pressed against the futon mattress before you even had a chance to slip your shoes off. Her lips were on yours, rough and needy, her hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. When she finally pulled away, her gaze raked over you, her eyes trailing lower until they landed on the lacy black pair that had been driving her crazy all night.

"Just as good as I imagined," she muttered, her voice thick with desire.

You barely had time to respond before her mouth was on your neck, her hands gripping your waist like she couldn't bear the thought of letting go. Her fingers traced the edge of the lace, her touch deliberate, slow.

"They're gonna end up ruined," you murmured, your breath catching as her lips ghosted down your neck, her hands firm on your waist. her fingers hooking into the fabric as her mouth hovered at your navel.

"Don't care," she said simply, her voice rough and low. Her hand tugged the lace aside, her blue eyes locking on yours. "This? This is all I care about."

She grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer, her fingers digging into your skin as she lowered herself between your legs. Her eyes locked with yours, a dark smirk curling at the corner of her lips as she reached for the lace, tugging it to the side without a second thought. You couldn't hold back the gasp as her mouth met you, her lips pressing against you with slow, deliberate pressure. The sensation was electric, and the moment she dragged her tongue over you, your whole body tensed.

"Abby..." you breathed, your voice already shaky.

She didn't reply, just kept moving, her hands holding you steady while her tongue worked with precision. Every flick, every stroke was calculated, and she didn't need to ask how you were feeling— she knew. Abby's confidence was as overwhelming as it was intoxicating, and it made it impossible to focus on anything else but her.

"Fuck, you taste good," she muttered under her breath, her voice low and rough as her lips stayed on you, never wavering. Her eyes never left yours as she worked, a steady rhythm that had you trembling beneath her. You reached down, your fingers running through her hair, desperate to hold onto something. Her grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer, making it impossible to escape the overwhelming pleasure she was delivering. She could feel the way your body reacted, the way you bucked against her, and it only spurred her on. When she pulled away briefly, just to look at you, her lips glistened, and you could see the satisfaction in her eyes.

[bucktommyscones]

@leandra-kinard Putting aside the rest of your self-indulgent rant for a second,

This?

So. No. I'm not gonna write a/b/o (just typing it took me 3 backspaces and at least 3 times as much time). It's tedious, it's clunky, I don't like it. It's entirely unnecessary, because everybody knows what I mean and there's no way to eliminate that short 3-letter-combination from the hundreds different languages/nations/cultures on this planet anyway.

Is especially abhorrent and egregious. As someone with an anthropological background, I will tell you that all cultures have terms that are offensive within that culture and no, not all cultures are going to know those terms. But when someone comes on and tells you nicely, that a term is offensive and hard to read on their dash WHERE YOU HAVE PEOPLE THAT ARE FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD, the nice thing to do is just be respectful of that?

But no. You do this a lot. You pop onto posts where you seem to think your input is wanted and leave some sort of nugget that just makes it seem like you don't particularly care for the feelings of others.

In the bucktommy community, we've been trying our best to be supportive of each other and not become like the bvddie side but this kind of shit is not it. Doubling down on racism because it's not convenient for you is not it. So maybe sit down and shut up for once.

hey so when ur talking about omegaverse but espesh a/b/o yous need to leave the slashes in a/b/o if u have to use that term. bcos without the slashes, ur just putting a slur against my ppl (racists shorten the Aboriginal in Aboriginal Australians) all over my dash where i have to constantly see it and that fucking sucks, my guys

and i know most of yous didnt know this and thats fine! no need to apologise im not trying to make u feel bad, im just trying to navigate fandom and this website without being constantly exposed to a really awful racist slur

if u have to use that specific term, at least keep the slashes between the letters. it still sucks to see tho ngl. even better! stick to omegaverse or instead use aob (alpha-omega-beta) (imo its also nicer to pronounce; ay-oh-bee. ayo-bee)

anyway, pls spread awareness and (nicely) let ppl know when theyre using a racist slur for a fandom term

[akanemnon]

hi!! i just wanted to say, i LOVE your art!! i started drawing my kris design with braces after seeing dubs of your comic on yt, and when i found you on tumblr i was beyond excited to see all of it in context. i’m a comic artist as well, and i was wondering— how do you choose your color palettes ?? besides obviously picking colors from the characters themselves, that’s a given— but your comics are bright and colorful and just a real pleasure to read because they’re so visually appealing. hope this question hasn’t been asked before!!

Thank you so very much!

So I really went into your question under the cut. So feel free to proceed if that is something that interests you.

The answer is honestly not that exciting. For the characters I really only do pick colors off the original sprites. Which is why they look so bright and colorful. If you try to do that yourself, you will quickly notice how SATURATED the sprites are. And not only the sprites, but also the backgrounds.

A little trick I use is that for pre-existing backgrounds I take all the colors and brighten + desaturate them just a teeeensy tiny bit. That way the characters in the foreground pop way more.

Another way to make the colors pop even more is to use colored shading AND colored lineart! That really IS what ties everything together. Let me show you..

This is a panel without the colored shading and lineart.

And this is it again WITH all that good stuff. Quite the difference, no?

But you're asking about color palettes, so I guess you also mean for the characters/outfits I designed? A lot of it boils down to color theory. I am by NO means an expert on that subject, but when looking at the Dark World designs specifically, you will notice how I did it.

For example: Frisk's Dark World color scheme is mainly analogous. That means the colors are right next to each other on the color wheel. But there is a little bit of complimentary in there.

Here, lemme visualize it...

Frisk's color scheme is a light green, darkish blue green, light yellow and a splash of pink. The red is there mostly just for lore reasons.

One thing I noticed when looking at the sprites of all the Dark World versions is that they are EXTREMELY bright and saturated.

That is something I tried to capture as well, but I think it didn't neccessarily nail it a lot of the time. Especially for Frisk's color scheme. If I stuck closer to what the game is doing, then in theory they would look more like this (using Kris' colors as a reference)

Looking back, I WOULD tweak their colors slightly more nowadays. Just so that the contrast between the colors is a little stronger and they don't blend together as much. This improves the readability of your design. Not all people are able to perceive every color of the rainbow, so readability is EXTREMELY important. Best way to see that is by desaturating them and checking the grayscale. Like so (left is the one closer to the game's colors)

Man, this REALLY makes me wanna fix their color scheme. This has been bugging me for a while now. (Though I'm kinda afraid that people point out that they look different.)

[gildeddlily]

season 2 started off beautifully. I was ecstatic at the end of episode three, for the simple reason that it had the same spirit as season 1. Vi feeling like she made a mistake so big trying to reach Powder instead of seeing Jinx and the danger she represented that the only way to fix that for her was to join her oppressors. Caitlyn destroying all the progress she'd made, unlearning what she'd been taught about Zaun by being with zaunites like Vi, the moment one of them killed her mother, and embracing her roots we can say, talking of bad blood and "I thought you were different"- showing that the internalised racism was always there ready to resurface the moment it had an excuse to. Caitlyn saying that her mother being killed by a teenager who's never dealt with her trauma and mental illness is the same thing as Vi's parents being killed by members of a military institution, disregarding everything she knew about the pain and abuse Vi went through because of the Enforcers. a "men get abused too" situation, in which one ignores the social and historical background of that type of violence to feel less sorry about it. they were perfectly well written, because they are things we see everyday. my father taught me as a child that black people crossing the Mediterranean to look for work in Italy were a good thing, and now that he's had problems at work with one he's started saying the opposite. a gay man I knew laughed at trans folks and said they made things worse for us, ridiculing them in the company of straight people to feel less threatened. (not the exact same thing as what happened to Vi, but you get what I mean).

those are real things, and Arcane has always been good at showing real things.

later on, episode seven, Jayce fell down. he landed in the deepest hole of Zaun, broke his leg, was forced to wear a brace to walk, suffered and had to claw his way back to the surface, to Piltover, in a strange metaphor of Viktor's journey and life (saw a post talking even more beautifully about this, will put the link here if I find it again), and once he met Viktor again, he told him his illness, his legs, he, were beautiful. not despite everything. because of it. and now he can understand him a little more. now he says "your imperfections are beautiful" and we can believe him, because he's not speaking from the perspective of a man trying to convince his friend to stop harming others. he's a man trying to make his partner see that he still loves him, now that he's finally understood him after years of trying to reach the truth and always being stopped by something, and that he understands him enough to know why he's harming others, and that he cares for him enough to think that he will be able to understand why it's wrong. it's Viktor accepting the inevitability of being seen by someone who went to hell and back to reach him.

those were fucking beautiful arcs. they were.

and then?

Vi saw Caitlyn become what she'd always said she wouldn't become, and there were no repercussions. Catelyn got to walk away and live all the same. she lost an eye to Ambessa, but it was no punishment for what she'd done. how many people did she harm? how many people did her actions have repercussions on? Vi shouted at her once, and then it was like it had never happened- which is still real, I guess. it happens everyday. but I didn't see any wish to make us see how that was wrong. I don't want to be told "this is wrong", I'm old enough and smart enough to understand this, but I also think I can see the difference between trying to show deeper meanings and not wanting to deal with difficult plot lines.

and Zaun? it was sad. pathetic. years of abuse were what, forgotten and then vanished in thin air because there was a common enemy? that, sadly, isn't real. it isn't. years or oppression can't be forgotten so easily, not by the oppressed, for one "glorious" fight. it's lazy. what started as a good depiction of reality turned into an american wet dream of big fights and sad sacrifice scenes and epic love stories that cross any difficulty, and economic and social difference. don't you dare say something against Caitlyn and Vi's ending, they went through all that, they deserve nice things. they do. many other people did. no one cared about them tho.

so.

epic failure. good soundtracks tho.

[lynzishell]

🌶️18+ Only

Prev // Next

*Note: If you have not read Part 4 and cba to go back and read it all, then this post should give you enough context.

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Hey. I was just thinking about you. Asher: Were you? Atlas: Can’t you tell?

Asher: What were you thinking? Atlas: I’ll show you.

Asher: Ahh… thank god you still feel the same. Atlas: What?

Asher: Nothing. Keep going.

[Later…]

Atlas: Are you coming to bed? Asher: … Atlas: Ash?

Asher: If I ask you something, will you promise to tell me the truth? Atlas: Of course. Asher: That last morning in Selvadorada, when we woke up in the jungle, you looked genuinely freaked out and you asked me if I remembered anything. What did you mean? Atlas: Why are you asking about that?

Asher: Because something feels different, ever since we got back, and I can’t shake it. Atlas: I see. Is that what’s been bothering you? Asher: [nods] Did something happen? Atlas: I think so. I’ve been trying to convince myself it was all just a dream, but I don’t think it was. I wanted to tell you, but… it’s going to make me sound insane. Asher: Tell me.

Atlas: I don’t really know where to start. Asher: At the beginning? Atlas: [scoffs] I wish it were that simple. Um, do you remember the temple? Asher: I remember the ruins. And the museum. Atlas: Right, okay. The museum. Do you remember what that guy, Sam, I think, do you remember what he said about curses?

One long and confusing story later…

Asher: How is that possible? Atlas: I have no idea, but I think maybe you’re right, that things are not the same as they were when we left. I don’t know exactly how, but I feel it too.

Asher: How do we go back?   Atlas: Back where? Asher: I don’t know. To whatever timeline we were in before. Atlas: I don’t think we do. I think we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Asher: [sinking to his knees] But…

Atlas: Hey. Come here. Everything’s okay. More than okay. We made it out. We have each other, and we have our family and our friends, and we still get to create the life we always dreamed of. Nothing else matters. The rest is just… background noise.

Asher: Background noise? Atlas: Yes, and for what it’s worth, one thing that hasn’t changed, that will never change, is how much I love you. Asher: Atlas, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Atlas: We’ll never have to find out. For the rest of our lives, we’re in this together.

Asher: I love you so much. Atlas: I love you too.

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

A Moment of Clarity

Jayce Talis x reader

summary: Jayce and you had been friends and lab partners for what feels like an eternity. However, something different has been simmering underneath the surface for a while now. All until you reach a major breakthrough in your research.

warnings: none, fluff, pining

notes: I got my bachelors degree yesterday and inspired by that I just had to write a happy Jayce one-shot. Just a quick little something.

——-

The lab was filled with the soft hum of machines and the sound of chalk against the blackboard, but to you, it felt like everything had faded into the background. You had been staring at the same equation for what felt like hours, barely blinking as your mind raced to solve the problem that had been plaguing you for days.

The equation was complex—far more than you had expected—but you were so close now. You could feel it. You just needed that one last piece, that one final adjustment to make everything click.

Your lab partner, Jayce, stood across the room, absentmindedly flipping through a stack of papers, his usual confidence radiating even in his quiet moments. He was focused, yes, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes often flicked over to you—subtle, quick, but undeniably there. The way he leaned a little closer when he was talking, the way his smile lingered just a second too long. You weren’t imagining it.

And for the longest time, you’d told yourself you were imagining it. That this thing—whatever it was—between you and Jayce was just your mind playing tricks, but tonight? Tonight, you weren’t so sure anymore.

The air was charged between you both, heavy with unspoken words, and you felt your heart race every time his gaze lingered on you. It wasn’t just the work that had you distracted—it was him.

"Any luck over there?" Jayce called, his voice pulling you back to the present.

You glanced up at him, biting your lip. "I think I’m so close, Jayce," you said, your voice breathless with the excitement of discovery. "I just need to adjust this last part. If I get it right, I think I can stabilize the energy flow."

He raised an eyebrow, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. "You’re saying you’ve got it?" There was a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but his eyes were serious, focused on you.

You nodded, stepping closer to the board, pacing as you ran through the calculations in your head. You could almost hear the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, the satisfying click of the solution that had been evading you for so long. You could feel the rush of success just around the corner.

Jayce stood behind you now, his proximity sending a strange warmth rushing through you. "You sure about this?" he asked, his voice low, and a little too close for comfort.

You glanced back at him, your breath catching as you realized just how close he was. The two of you had spent hours working side by side, but tonight felt different. Tonight, it felt like you could finally feel the weight of every glance, every lingering touch, every moment when his hand brushed yours as you passed a tool between you.

"I—I’m sure," you said, trying to focus, but finding it difficult when his eyes were fixed on you with that same intensity. "I just need to…"

You paused, your heart racing again. You needed to finish this. You *had* to. Your hand was shaking slightly as you reached for the chalk to make the final adjustment. But before you could complete the equation, you froze.

There it was. The answer.

"I did it," you whispered in disbelief, staring at the board. "I did it!"

Jayce’s eyes lit up in response. "You’re kidding!" He stepped closer, his voice rising with excitement. "Wait—let me see it."

You moved aside, still in a daze as he examined the board, the equation you had just cracked. You could hear him muttering to himself as he read it over, nodding in amazement.

"This is—it’s genius, [Y/N]!" His voice was filled with awe, but there was something more there too. Something deeper. "This could solve everything."

Your pulse quickened at his words. You could hardly contain the rush of pride, but something else was bubbling up inside you too. You turned to face him, meeting his gaze, and suddenly, everything felt too close, too perfect, and yet so right.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words were out.

"I couldn’t have done it without you." You said it before you could think, and when you saw his expression soften, it felt like you had just crossed some invisible line that neither of you had dared approach before.

Jayce blinked, then smiled. It was soft, but genuine. His eyes softened even more. "You know, [Y/N], you’ve always been amazing. I—" He stopped, his words trailing off, and for a moment, there was only silence between you two.

The space between you seemed to shrink. You could hear your own breath, feel the beating of your heart in your chest, louder than ever. And just like that, in the very same instant that the weight of the breakthrough finally hit you both, Jayce did the last thing you expected.

He grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off the ground in a swift motion, spinning you around with excitement.

You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself as you laughed, the thrill of the moment carrying you both. The sheer spontaneity of it made you dizzy—not just from the excitement of the breakthrough, but from how it felt to be in his arms, so effortlessly close.

"YES!" he shouted, lifting you higher as he spun you in circles. "You did it, [Y/N]! This is huge!"

You laughed breathlessly, dizzy from the combination of his spinning and your excitement. When he finally stopped, your feet landed back on the ground, but Jayce didn’t let go. He kept you close, his hands still on your waist, his face lit with that same infectious grin.

You both stood there, catching your breath, the joy of the moment sinking in. And then, as if drawn by the same current, Jayce leaned in—quickly, impulsively, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was as sudden and spontaneous as everything else between you two.

You froze at first, stunned by the suddenness of it, but then all the tension you’d been holding inside melted away. This was it. This was what you’d been avoiding for weeks, for months. The spark that had been building between you both was finally igniting.

His hands moved to cup your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you responded instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, your heart racing in time with his.

When you pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Jayce’s forehead rested against yours, both of you still trying to process what had just happened. His hands remained on your waist, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and… something else. Something softer.

"Well… that was unexpected," you said, laughing softly, though your voice still held a little disbelief.

Jayce grinned, his eyes still sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, well… I couldn’t hold back anymore." He laughed, a little sheepishly, as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You’ve had me on edge for weeks, [Y/N]."

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "I think I’ve had the same problem."

Jayce chuckled, pulling you closer once more, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "Well, I’m glad we’re both on the same page now."

"Me too," you whispered, your heart racing in the best possible way. "This… this is only the beginning."

He grinned, that same mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, I know. And I’ve got a lot of ideas for our next breakthrough."

And for the first time, you felt like you didn’t need to worry about the future or the uncertainty between you two. It was all clear now. The equation, the breakthrough, the feelings that had been building between you both—it was all coming together. And this time, there was no holding back.

[bubblegumgothglados]

for your cutting guide id be interested to see if you have any thoughts on how to deal with it mentally? coming from a self harm background but now sexual cutting is a kink those two can be really hard for me to deal with so like idk?

I had no idea how to answer this so here are thoughts by my wife @silly-babyy who did self harm a lot and also enjoys me cutting them as a sexual act

"Think of it like a venn diagram; one one side you have self harm and the other side you have cutting as part of sex. The only thing overlapping is that your flesh is getting cut. Every other part is different. The headspace is different, the circumstances are different, the cutting tool can be different. Where one is about depression the other is about pleasure "

So I guess my thoughts are try to build that wall between them, go slowly, communicate openly with the person cutting you, don't be scared to safeword if it gets too much. I probably won't address this in my primer because I'll be focusing on mechanics but I appreciate you reaching out.

Opening this up to the floor, if anyone else has experience with both and would like to add their thoughts they are very welcome

[theoddest1]

I have no idea what was the point of introducing Stolas and Blitzo as childhood friends. To make them appear as destined to be?

In fact, it just makes Stolitz creepier. This man just obsessed over a kid he knew for a day for the last 25 years and his first instinct is to bang him? It would have been a lot better for Stolas to witness how they treat imps at Stella's party, leading him to reflect on the classist treatment of people like Blitz. This leads him to grow a bit regretful and uncomfortable, leading him to go back to his study to think over things. There, he reconciles with Blitzo, who is trying to steal his book. Unaware of what's going on, Stolas strikes conversation with Blitz on what they've been up to. Blitzo believes this could be a way to distract him, so he's willing to play that part.

They begin to talk out their lives together: their highs, their lows, and their connections. While Blitzo shows little to no interest in Stolas' personal life, Stolas is shocked and saddened by Blitzo's background. While he became a high-ranking figure with a magical skill set and a family of his own, Blitzo's life has been nothing but pain, struggle, and a string of strained relationships. Despite this though, Blitzo continues to try to make a name for himself, whether as a good dad of an adopted daughter or as a successful boss of an underdog business.

Stolas, while sympathetic for Blitzo, tends to also find admiration in his ambition and work. Despite all the people he's hurt and all the people who've hurt him, he keeps moving forward towards a better way of life. They find an unlikely connection this way, leading to a weekly visit between the two. Despite their differences in class and style, they find comfort in each other and eventually become friends. Eventually Stolas grows interested in Blitzo's business life, leading him to lend him access to the Grimoire whenever his business requires it. Not in exchange for sex, but to help out a man he cares for.

Both Stolas and Stella in this rendition are unhappy rather than hateful of one another. For Stolas, he finds little to no interest in Stella romantically (since he's attracted to men). As for Stella, she has had a soft spot for him since their first encounters, much like Stolas with Blitzo. However, she is also unhappy with him both sexually and romantically, as her attempts at a loving connection always meet to no avail. She begins to grow saddened and bitter, believing she is incapable of finding love. Her parents already viewed her as a free ticket to a life of royal luxury, so why would her arranged husband see her more than a woman he's stuck with for an heir? Despite this, however, both Stolas and Stella attempt to make it work for their daughter Octavia.

Unfortunately, things begin to fall apart once Stolas and Blitzo grow into something more than what they believed they'd become. They grow from a pair of unlikely friends to a pair of friends with benefits. Things grow complicated between the two because of this. Blitzo begins to grow attracted to Stolas, which he cannot fathom due to his rank and his self-worth issues. Stolas also begins to grow attracted towards Blitzo, though he begins to question if this is worth throwing away his public image and family life for. Stolas becomes regretful over his feelings for Blitzo, while Blitzo becomes frustrated and worried.

Anyways, sorry for a bunch of rambling lol. Seeing the wasted potential this show has always pumps up my thought bubbles. I wanted to see a raunchy show with an assassin business with a romance subplot between two morally gray people, not what became of it. 

You gotta understand, Anon...this requires reliable writers to pull off and Arcane S1 levels of care, which Viv's ass doesn't have

Fr, this is really solid! There are a few things I'd change [slightly] here and there, but this would be such a solid way to handle their entire relationship. But Viv is a Fujo, so we are ROPED.

[kouudi]

ᡣ𐭩 every path leads back to you — isagi yoichi

warnings: reader has an ex fiancé (not isagi), reader has commitment issues, description heavy, mentions of drinking, kind of proof read but not really, reader feels very guilty

a/n: i'm sorry this took so long ;-; life has been crazy and my job's been requiring me to come in more. turns out i work on christmas eve and day so that's fun i guess? happy late thanksgiving i'm thankful for all of you + my moots :D not sure when i'll be able to post again but i'll try to keep y'all updated and not disappear. also yes this was teased as a reo fic but ignore that...

The air in your apartment smelled like stale beer. The low hum of the refrigerator filled the silence in the background, only broken by the occasional wail of a distant siren outside. You’re perched at the edge of the couch, staring at the scattered beer cans on the floor as if they hold the answer to a question the universe is too afraid to ask.

You’re not even sure how the night started. Bachira called you, telling you that the team was home for a break. You rejected his invitation to go out for drinks, preferring instead to settle in at home with your own packs of beer.

Maybe Isagi called you, or maybe you texted him first—something vague after a few drinks, an invitation he somehow read between the lines. Now, hours later, he’s sitting in front of your couch, back against the edge, a comfortable distance away from you.

You think it should feel strange, having him here like this, so casually. Isagi Yoichi, with his perfect life and effortless charm, is a far cry from the mess you’ve become over the years of your friendship with him. Despite the differences, you feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if for tonight, your loneliness isn’t yours to bear alone.

He’s quiet now, watching you with an expression that’s hard for you to read, his sharp eyes flickering all over your apartment as if they can’t settle on one thing for long. You take a swig from your beer, the bitterness burning your throat, and glance at him. You feel exposed, as if he’s peeling back the layers of whatever shield you’ve managed to build.

It’s that specific look that pulls the words from your tongue before you even realize it.

“Did you know I was supposed to get married last year?” The bitterness and disbelief are laced in your voice.

Isagi arches a brow at your sudden confession, his expression unreadable. The clutter of empty beer cans scattered around the floor brings up the thought of why he chose to end the night at your place, instead of suggesting his own for a late-night drinking session.

His gaze lingers on you, sharp and searching. “No, I didn’t. You’ve never mentioned it,” he says finally, his tone careful and neutral. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. “Are you joking?” he asks, his voice calm and even, his expression still unreadable. You force out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, well. There’s a lot I don’t mention,” you snort, lifting the beer can to your mouth. The bitterness in your tone stings your own ears. That wasn’t something you meant to blurt out. The weight of your guilt feels heavier than usual tonight, with Isagi here. His presence brings forth that strange sense of comfort, though it’s almost aggravating to you.

“Why bring it up now?” he asks, leaning back against the couch, still keeping his eyes focused on you. His voice is calm, but there’s a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, or maybe even concern.

You shrug and stare down at the flat liquid in your can. “It’s been on my mind,” you mutter, though it’s only half the truth. It’s not just the memory of what could’ve been. It’s him—sitting here, looking too calm, too collected, as if your mess is just another puzzle for him to figure out.

You take another sip of your beer, the bitter taste doing little to ground you. Isagi’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you can feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you. Still, he doesn’t push, but his presence alone is almost like a small nudge, daring you to open up, to say more, to peel back a layer of your life that you’ve hidden from him for so long.

For a moment, you consider brushing it off with a dumb joke or changing the subject completely. But the quiet intensity in his eyes makes it impossible. Instead, you let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing down until the emotions start to seep in—uninvited and vivid.

The memory floods back to you—the rush of slipping out the back of the reception hall, still in your wedding dress, makeup half-done and beginning to smudge. You remember the moment of freedom amidst the chaos, but the weight of the man you left behind quickly pulls you back.

“I left him at the altar,” you quietly confess, the words heavy on your tongue. The thought of your fiancé waiting for you at the end of the aisle, surrounded by friends and family, lingers in your mind like a shadow.

You never thought you’d be the type of person to run from their own wedding. You and your ex-fiancé had spent the year preparing to make that day meticulously perfect—the music, flowers, decorations, and even the vows that you spent countless sleepless nights perfecting. From everyone else’s perspective, the day was out of a fairytale. But to you, you didn’t belong in that story.

Your ex-fiancé was everything people thought you should want: a kind and successful man. You admit that it was everything you did want at the time. He was a respectable man. But, over time, the relationship became a suffocating routine, rather than one built on genuine love.

Every day that passed, and the wedding date drew closer, you felt more trapped. “It’s just cold feet,” you’d tell yourself over and over again. “Everyone feels this way before committing to forever.”

You remember the morning of your wedding, staring at your own reflection in the mirror, veil perched upon your head, feeling like an imposter. You remember the feeling inside you suddenly snap. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t marry this man. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life pretending to be someone you weren’t.

You can’t fake a thought—that was something you realized the day you met the man sitting beside you. In the last few months of your previous relationship, you started to notice things. It took you longer than usual to answer your phone, you never genuinely smiled anymore, and you only did activities that he suggested because you’d convinced yourself you didn’t know what you wanted to do. No matter how much you pretended not to notice the change in yourself, you did. You noticed it all.

It wasn’t until you and Isagi began crossing the lines between friendship and something deeper a few months ago that you realized what you had been missing. Isagi had a way of filling the empty spaces in your life—spaces you hadn’t even known existed. His presence was effortless yet inescapably consuming. And yet, as much as you knew you should surrender, a small voice kept reminding you of everything you had left behind: the stability, the comfort, the certainty. Isagi was none of those things, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him the most.

He was a force of nature, always moving, always shifting, while you were stuck in place, bound to the limit of the city you were in, caught between the pull of your past and the push toward something unfamiliar. You did try to fight it at first—tried to keep a distance, to protect whatever small sense of self that you still desperately clung to. But every time he smiled, every time he spoke, it was as if your world had narrowed to only show him. And that was terrifying.

You were stuck between staying with what you knew about yourself at age twenty-four or venturing out into the world. You didn’t want to stay stagnant, frozen in a life you felt was no longer yours. But with Isagi, there was no promise of tomorrow. There was no guarantee that things would stay the same. And maybe that was the most frightening thing. You could fall, and he wouldn’t catch you. Or maybe he would, but only for a little while.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. Isagi’s expression had shifted, his usual calm replaced by something softer, tinged with sadness. His eyes met yours, but there was a distant heaviness in them, as if he were carrying a weight you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure when he got up to sit beside you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel the shift in the air, like something unspoken had settled there, pressing down on the two of you.

Isagi opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he hesitated. His brow furrowed slightly, and he seemed to be grappling with his words, as though he knew what he wanted to say wasn’t going to come out right. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before, softer than his usual tone of confidence.

“I knew you were getting married. Bachira told me,” he confessed, his eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I didn’t want to make things... harder for you, so I pretended not to know.”

There it was—the guilt in his voice. You’d expected it, but hearing it now hit you harder than you thought it would. Isagi, who always seemed so composed, so untouchable, was suddenly vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure how to handle.

“I knew you would’ve told me if you wanted me to know.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, the weight of his words settling in. You weren’t prepared for this—this side of him. But before you could second-guess yourself, the words came out anyway. “I didn’t want you to know,” you said, your voice quieter now. His eyes softened, and you could see the faint shadow of regret in them. “You were always so busy, always out of the country… I just wanted to move on.” You paused, feeling the heaviness of it all. “We’ve been in this strange place for months now, but honestly, I’ve been here even longer.”

Isagi’s gaze intensified, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “What are you trying to say?”

You turned your head away, suddenly embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Isagi,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, “I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, the kind that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear. You felt exposed, as though everything that protected you had been stripped away. But Isagi didn’t say anything, not at first. His eyes never left yours, and his silence—rather than pushing you away—seemed to be drawing you in further.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’ve always been so distant. I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

The words hit you in your gut. Isagi, a man who always seemed composed and confident, had been uncertain the entire time? The realization made you feel both relieved and guilty—you had been blind to everything for longer than you thought.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said quietly, your throat tightening. “I thought that if I just kept going, kept pretending, it would get easier. But it never did.” You paused, your heart racing. “And now… I don’t know how to fix it.”

Isagi’s expression softened again, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor fading into something gentler. He leaned forward, his voice steady but full of something deeper. “You don’t have to fix it. You just have to tell me what you want. I’m right here. I’ve always been here, but you’ve got to let me in, too.”

His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your lips. “We can be a team, but only if you’re comfortable being one together.”

You lean into his touch, as if it were muscle memory. The warmth of his hand on your skin, his thumb pressing gently on your lips—everything about this moment feels like something you should’ve known before, something that was always there, just out of reach. For a split second, you let yourself believe that it’s real, that it’s something you deserve.

But then, as quickly as you let yourself forget, the weight of everything you’ve kept buried presses down on your heart again. The guilt. The confusion. The silence between you, stretched thin over the last few months as you both tread the line between friendship and something more. You pull back slightly, enough to break the contact between you, but not enough to distance yourself completely. You feel colder without the warmth of his hand on your face.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you say, the words escaping before you can stop them. You feel the uncertainty creeping back in.

Isagi doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t let the space between you grow too wide. His eyes are softer now, though you can still see the same intensity in them. He studies your face for a moment, but it feels like he’s seeing past you, into the deeper parts of you, weighing your words carefully. Then, in a voice as low as a whisper:

“No rush. We take things slow, one step at a time.”

The way he says it—the calm certainty—makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s offering a lifeline out of the mess you’ve made of your life. And for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your chest. “Are you sure?” you ask, the vulnerability in your voice tightening your throat.

Isagi doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.”

And for the first time, you believe him.

written by koudi

tags: @sarahforever

[paper-possum-party-pal]

Guess Who?

It’s Timekeeper!!!

Timekeeper started off as an AI The Narrator made to keep track of settings and time after a failed attempt to create a protagonist. A form was built, but was scrapped. When TK gained sentience, he didn’t have the power to do much except mess with the clock and settings. She slowly expanded her power though through the powerful desire to fuck with The Narrator. They weren’t aware of much going on outside of their space until connecting with the computers of the parable where they became aware of Stanley. Xe gains access to the time and space between resets where Xe starts interacting with Stanley and the become partners in crime.

Stanley and TK are great buddies and their favorite activity is messing with The Narrator, made funnier by the fact The Narrator has no clue TK is even there. He does eventually find out though once TK manages to pull its scrapped form out of recycling and fix it and gets caught interacting with Stanley. Stanley and TK also often talk about their false memories and what kinds of lives they would lead in the real world. TK doesn’t really care if he gets to experience the real world, but does admit that it might be fun, and new things means new ideas means new ways to prank The Narrator.

The Narrator and TK have more of a rivalry, with TK thinking The Narrator as a stuck up buzzkill who puts too much value in perfection and meaning, while The Narrator thinks TK is annoying, irresponsible, and irreverent. They aren’t really friends, but they’re not enemies either, and will reluctantly admit when the other may have a point. They’re sort of like roommates and maybe siblings.

TK doesn’t interact with The Curator or Mariella as much, but they’re friends. TK knows how and when to bring the fun to them and they both appreciate it. They all hold more of a sibling dynamic. They all have tea together, chat, and play fight, especially TK and Mariella. The Curator is great at reigning in TK, which can be frustrating when a certain someone starts whining about someone else messing with his game.

More human form

It’s funny to me how many of us, at least initially (and even a little bit now), had a similar idea of how Timekeeper would look with a physical form. I found myself having a lot of difficulty deciding what I wanted them to look like exactly since there’s so many creative designs people have come up with. I was thinking of trying to design a very non-human form for it. One thing that does slightly bother me is that I have that last character for the proctor lineup that is very similar looking, but I’m hoping it’s just different enough so it doesn’t feel too much like I’m copy pasting the same character.

With white background

[sabrinasopposite]

don’t you want me like i want you?

clark kent x guitarist!reader

don’t you want me

like i want you baby?

sleep tonight but tonights going crazy

meet me at the…. APT.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

For some, music is a companion—a loyal shadow that lingers, a daily necessity. But for others, it’s more. It’s everything. They don’t just hear it; they see it in the shifting hues of the sky, feel it in the vibration of the earth, live it in every heartbeat. For them, music isn’t a sound; it’s a language, a lifeline, a mirror.

For y/n, it was all of that and more. It was a sanctuary, the only way to release the emotions she couldn’t quite speak aloud. Music was her escape—a getaway car racing through uncharted roads. Plug in the headphones, press play, and suddenly, the world became a little softer, a little brighter. It was like being handed a map to a place only she understood.

But sometimes, the search for new music felt like a hunt—a quest for the perfect sound that could stir her soul, rekindle a spark, or provide the soundtrack for a moment she hadn’t yet lived. For y/n, this hunt was eternal, an ache as familiar as the chords of her favorite songs.

She had arrived in Smallville just weeks ago, a town so quiet it seemed like it could have been plucked from the second verse of a Radiohead track—melancholic yet oddly serene, with beauty tucked between its stillness. It was a far cry from the electric heartbeat of New York City, where she’d spent most of her life.

Smallville felt like a genre she’d never chosen—like a punk rocker trying to write country ballads. You either adapted and found the rhythm, or you didn’t. Y/n wasn’t sure yet which way it would go.

New York had been loud, chaotic, a symphony of endless possibility. Smallville was... still. Too still. But in that stillness, y/n found space to think—a fact that scared her more than she cared to admit. Change was like hearing a song for the first time: jarring, unfamiliar. But sometimes, if you gave it a chance, the melody could surprise you.

Her first days in Smallville were spent wandering its streets, letting herself get lost, hoping to stumble upon something—a spark, a rhythm, a new favorite lyric in this quiet album of a town. High school loomed on the horizon, another challenge she wasn’t ready to face. Her only solace was her family: her parents and her older brother, Theodore.

Theodore was her opposite in some ways but her twin in one crucial aspect—music. While she craved the melancholic poetry of The Smiths and the atmospheric pull of Fleetwood Mac, Theodore was all raw energy. His heroes were The Clash and the Sex Pistols, their messy rebellion plastered all over his bedroom walls.

Their playlists were mismatched, but their shared passion for sound connected them like two strings on the same guitar.

“You listen to sad music,” Theodore teased one night as she scribbled lyrics in her worn notebook.


“And you listen to angry music,” she shot back, smirking.


“Anger gets things done. What does sadness do?”
“It makes you feel,” she replied simply, her words trailing into the hum of a record spinning in the background.

It was during one of her aimless walks through Smallville that y/n saw it—a poster taped to a lamppost, its bold letters practically leaping off the page:

“LIVE MUSIC! TALON EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT!”

Her heart skipped, the words striking a chord in her chest. She’d passed the Talon a few times—a cozy coffee shop with an unassuming exterior—but now, it gleamed with possibility.

A smile crept across her face, bright and mischievous like the neon ink on the poster. Maybe this is it, she thought. A way to feel like herself again. To stop feeling like a background instrument in her own life.

She ran her fingers over the strap of her guitar case later that night, her mind racing. She hadn’t performed since New York—a string of open mics where she poured her heart out to strangers in dark rooms. But this felt different. This felt like the start of a new setlist.

Theodore didn’t take much convincing. Over dinner, she pitched the idea “Live music at this place called the Talon. Friday night. Let’s go.”


“You mean you should go,” he replied with a smirk. “With your brooding Smiths covers.”


“And you can bring your chaotic drum solos,” she countered, grinning. “Fine. But I get to pick one song,” theodore said, his grin mirroring hers.

🖤

As the days rolled by, the night of the Talon finally awrrived. y/n had been counting down to it, her excitement mingling with nervous energy.

The Talon wasn’t just any coffee shop—it was the place to be in Smallville. By day, it was a cozy corner where locals sipped lattes and caught up on homework. By night, it transformed into a buzzing hub for the town’s younger crowd, especially students from Smallville High.

Lana Lang, a fellow student, was the mastermind behind it all. Running the Talon was more than just a job for Lana—it was her dream, a vision she’d nurtured into reality. She’d given the shop a unique vibe, blending vintage cinema posters and retro lighting with warm, earthy tones that made it feel timeless. The Talon was Lana’s way of shaping the world around her, just like music shaped y/n’s.

For y/n, tonight was about sharing her heart through her guitar. But for Clark Kent, tonight was about surviving his friends’ enthusiasm.

Clark hadn’t planned on going. Events like this weren’t his thing—too loud, too crowded, and not exactly farm-boy friendly. But Chloe and Pete had been relentless.

“Come on, Clark!” Chloe said, practically dragging him along Main Street. “You can’t spend every Friday night doing farm stuff or staring at your ceiling. Live a little!” Yeah, man,” Pete added. “The Talon’s where it’s at. Music, coffee, and a crowd that’s actually, you know, alive. It’s way better than your barn.”

Clark sighed, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “I don’t even like these kinds of events. You guys know that.”

“That’s because you’ve never given them a chance,” Chloe said with a knowing smile. “And besides, Lana’s worked really hard to put this together. The least you can do is show up and support her.”

Clark glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “So this is about Lana.”

“No,” Chloe replied quickly—too quickly. “It’s about live music. Supporting local talent. Being a good friend. And, okay, maybe it wouldn’t kill you to, you know, talk to her while you’re there.”

Pete laughed. “Clark Kent, master of subtlety. I bet he stands in the corner all night, sipping coffee and avoiding eye contact.”

Clark shook his head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Fine. I’ll go. But only for a little while.” Chloe and Pete exchanged victorious looks as they stepped into the Talon.

The place was already packed, the buzz of conversation and laughter filling the air. Y/n and Theodore arrived early, her guitar slung over her shoulder and his drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket. Theodore had been grumbling about being dragged out of the house, but Y/n could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Clark, on the other hand, stuck close to Chloe and Pete, scanning the room. The warmth of the fairy lights and the smell of coffee filled the air, and despite himself, he felt a bit more at ease.

“See?” Chloe said, nudging him. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Clark shrugged but stayed quiet. His eyes wandered to the small stage at the far end of the shop, where musicians were setting up. He didn’t recognize anyone, but something about the electric energy in the air made him pause.

🖤

Meanwhile, Y/n was standing offstage, tuning her guitar and stealing glances at the growing crowd. Her nerves were starting to show, but Theodore gave her a reassuring nudge. “You’ve got this,” he said, tapping his drumsticks against his leg.

“Thanks,” she replied, trying to steady her breathing. This was it—the start of something new, in a place she was still trying to call home. And as the first chords echoed through the Talon, the crowd quieted, and all eyes turned to the stage.

y/n stood at the center of the small stage, her white guitar resting comfortably in her arms, as if it had always been there. Her outfit—a mix of rockstar glam and effortless charm—caught the light just enough to make her seem larger than life.

She looked like the kind of girl people might describe as a "rockstar’s girlfriend," but there was no mistaking her presence. She wasn’t anyone’s shadow; she was the main event. A free spirit with fire in her veins and a guitar that held all the words she couldn’t speak aloud.

Her style might have turned heads, but it was her eyes that truly shone under the purplish lights. They sparkled with the energy of someone who had something to say and wasn’t afraid to let the music do the talking.

The room buzzed softly with conversation as she stepped up to the mic. She leaned in, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hi, everyone,” she began, her voice warm but laced with the sharpness of her New Yorker accent. “Hope you guys are ready for something a little... rocky tonight.” She chuckled, the sound carrying through the room like the first strum of a chord.

y/n scanned the small crowd of the Talon, her heart pounding. The faces staring back weren’t familiar, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t performing for recognition. This was her way of speaking to the world, of sharing her stories—even if some of those stories were ones she’d only imagined.

Love, for instance. It wasn’t something she’d experienced firsthand, but it was a world she often visited in her mind. She’d written countless poems about it, pouring her thoughts into metaphors and melodies.

Tonight, she was ready to turn those words into something real, even if it was just for three minutes under the Talon’s lights. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Theodore. His drumsticks were poised in his hands, his posture relaxed but ready. She gave him a small nod, a signal to drop the bass and let the rhythm take over.

With that, Theodore struck the first note, a deep, vibrating pulse that seemed to ripple through the room. y/n felt the vibration in her chest, grounding her, reminding her why she loved this. The noise of the crowd softened as the music began to build, pulling everyone’s attention toward the siblings on stage.

y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of the guitar in her hands. Then she opened them, her fingers finding the strings instinctively. The first chord rang out clear and strong, cutting through the hum of the room like a declaration.

The song they were playing was called APT, a fun, energetic piece she had written inspired by a drinking game her friend from downtown, NYC had introduced her to.

It was a game called Apteu, and although it was just a silly tradition, it had given y/n the perfect material for a lighthearted, upbeat song. The track was full of energy and rhythm, designed to get people moving and feeling good—just the kind of vibe she wanted to set in this crowded room tonight.

She started to sing, her voice rising and falling with the melody, effortlessly weaving through the rhythm. Her eyes sparkled with passion, each word she sang carrying the weight of emotions she often kept hidden. When y/n sang, it was like she wasn’t just performing; she was living inside the song, letting every note and lyric become part of her. She embodied it, lost in the world of the music, letting it carry her to places she could only dream about.

Her voice was a perfect blend of sweetness and edge, like honey with a kick of spice.

“Don't you want me like I want you, baby?

Don’t you want me like I need you now?

Sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. All you gotta do is just meet me at the…”

Her voice echoed through the Talon, drawing the crowd into her spell.

Clark, who had been standing in the back, arms folded and quietly observing, found himself completely captivated. His eyes followed y/n as she moved, completely lost in the song, and suddenly, he realized he was too. It wasn’t just the music—it was the way she poured herself into every note, the way she made it feel like her voice was something raw and real, like it had never been rehearsed, only lived.

His friends, Chloe and Pete, were watching him, but Clark couldn’t tear his eyes away. The entire room seemed to pulse with the beat, and y/n was at the center of it, effortlessly drawing everyone into her orbit. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the song felt so alive, or the way y/n seemed so in tune with every word she sang, but there was something about it—something about her—that hit him harder than he expected.

“She’s good,” Chloe whispered, nudging him. ,,Better than good, actually.”

Pete grinned. “I told you. This is way better than farm chores.”

Clark barely heard them. His focus was entirely on y/n, who was lost in the music. Her eyes glinted with emotion, her whole body swaying in time with the rhythm, and Clark felt that strange spark again, like the first crack of lightning on a stormy night. He was drawn to her in a way he didn’t understand, but the more she sang, the more he couldn’t look away.

y/n smiled briefly as she sang, her gaze briefly meeting Clark’s across the room. It was a fleeting moment, just long enough for him to feel something—a connection he couldn’t name, but he couldn’t ignore.

As she finished the song with a flourish, the crowd cheered, and y/n’s face lit up, glowing with the warmth of the applause. But for a brief second, Clark was still caught in the aftershocks of that look, a smile that was just for him—or at least, that’s how it felt.

The crowd cheered, some shouting their praise while others lingered at the edge of the stage, chatting and laughing. y/n was swarmed by a few people who complimented her performance, but she stayed humble, thanking them with a bright smile and an easy laugh. Theodore hung back, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a quiet pride.

As the buzz of conversation filled the air, y/n and her brother moved off the stage, standing near the side of the room to catch their breath. Clark, still lost in the aftershock of her performance, was snapped back to reality when Chloe grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

“Come on, Clark, let’s go say hi! You can't just stand there looking like you’re stuck in a trance,” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Pete followed, still grinning. “Yeah, man. She’s great, huh? Let’s go talk to her.”

🖤

They walked toward the area where Y/N and Theodore stood, and for a moment, Clark hesitated. His heart was still pounding, and his mind was a little lost in the world he’d just experienced. It was just a song, just a girl—yet, something about the way she’d sung had gotten under his skin. But as they got closer, he found himself caught in the whirl of people milling around, all eager to meet the new musician, all laughing and talking.

“Hey, I just wanted to say you did an amazing job,” Chloe said, reaching Y/N and flashing her a wide smile.

Y/N returned her smile, her eyes still alight from the performance. “Thanks! Glad you liked it. It’s always a little nerve-wracking to play for people you’ve never met.”

“Well, you nailed it,” Pete chimed in. “You’ve got a real gift. And that song—APT—man, that was infectious. You had everyone in here dancing with you.”

Y/N laughed, her voice warm and sincere. “I’m just glad it got people vibing. It’s one of those silly songs, you know? You gotta embrace the fun in it.”

Theodore stood silently beside her, occasionally nodding when someone complimented his drumming, but for the most part, he seemed content to watch his sister shine in the spotlight.

Clark hung back, not sure if he should join the conversation. His mind was still racing with thoughts of Y/N, of how she seemed so at ease on stage, and how her smile had made him feel like they were the only two people in the room. But he didn’t speak up. Instead, he found himself standing just out of reach, watching quietly, unsure of what to say.

After a few moments, the conversation began to drift away from the music, and people started to break off into smaller groups, chatting about other things. Clark felt the opportunity slipping away.

“I guess we should get going,” Chloe said after a while, her tone casual, but there was a hint of something in her voice, like she could tell Clark was still lost in the night’s events. “It’s getting late, and we don’t want to leave our fearless leader to fend for himself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete agreed, giving Clark a playful nudge.

Y/N’s eyes caught Clark’s again as they turned to leave. Their gazes met, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world paused. But before Clark could say anything—before he could find the courage to step forward and introduce himself—she turned back to talk to someone else, lost in the group.

Clark hesitated, and the moment passed.

“Well, that was… interesting,” Pete said with a grin as they headed toward the door. “You seemed like you were a million miles away, man. You’re telling me you didn’t feel that? She’s something else, huh?”

Chloe gave him a teasing look. “Clark’s not the type to swoon over a girl in a coffee shop, Pete. Let him off the hook.”

Clark didn’t answer. His thoughts were elsewhere, stuck on the look they’d shared. He thought, maybe, there could have been something. But as they walked out of the Talon and into the cool night air, the excitement of the night began to fade, and he couldn’t help but think—he’d probably never see her again.

Y/N looked behind, her gaze following Clark as he walked out of the shop. Her eyes lingered on his tall figure and dark hair—he looked like a soft song, something out of Fleetwood Mac's Dreams or maybe Tears for Fears' Head Over Heels.

Her heart was pounding, maybe from the adrenaline still coursing through her after the performance. Or maybe it was the memory of those ocean-blue eyes.

🖤

The weekend passed, and Monday arrived all too quickly. For some students, it was just another Monday. Clark hadn’t expected to see Y/N again. Hell, he didn’t even know her name or who she was, but a part of him felt like he’d known her forever. Maybe it was the music that surrounded her—the way it made her seem like someone whose story everyone somehow already knew.

He’d thought about her all weekend.

Her song was stuck in his head, just like the memory of those purple lights that seemed to reflect her presence.

But another thought kept creeping in—he’d probably never see her again. She sounded like she came from New York; maybe it had been just a visit. What kind of girl like that would live in Smallville? She seemed like she belonged in a vinyl shop, or in some city where she was constantly surrounded by music.

Yet, as he walked down the hallway of Smallville High, he saw her.

Y/N was leaning against a locker, laughing and talking with Theodore. Her bright smile seemed to light up the entire hallway, and for a moment, Clark felt the world slow down.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. Sure, he’d been shy around Lana earlier that school year, but this was different. He didn’t even know Y/N—he’d only met her eyes across a crowded room. And yet, here he was, feeling… weird.

When their eyes met again, Y/N smiled, a mix of recognition and curiosity. She nudged Theodore and pointed in Clark’s direction.

“That’s the guy from the other two people who congratulated us—Friday night!” she said.

Theodore glanced over his shoulder, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sis, a lot of people talked to us that night. I barely even remember the girl who gave me her number.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away from her brother, heading straight toward Clark. His steps slowed, but his heart raced faster with every second.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from the Talon—Friday night?” she asked with a warm smile as she approached him.

Clark blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Clark. Clark Kent.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. Her handshake was firm, confident. “So, do you go to every show, or was Friday just a lucky coincidence?”

“I don’t usually go to shows,” he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But maybe… I’ll consider going to more.”

Y/N grinned, her expression easy and relaxed. Something about her grounded him, helping him find his footing. She was tilting her head slightly as if studying him. “You don’t seem like the ‘crowded coffee shop’ type. What pulled you in? Was it the music, or did someone drag you there?”

Clark chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Chloe and Pete—they kind of insisted. Said I needed to ‘get out more.’”

“Sounds like good friends,” she said with a laugh. “It were the two that I talked to— right?”

“Yeah—- they loved it seriously,” Clark admitted. “And I… well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” His words came out more honest than he’d intended, and he quickly added, “The music, I mean. You were amazing up there.”

Her expression softened, a touch of surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She paused, glancing at him curiously. “So, what do you do? Besides getting dragged to coffee shops by your friends, I mean.”

“Mostly farm stuff,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of shyness. “My family has a farm just outside of town.”

“That explains the whole ‘rugged, mysterious’ thing you’ve got going on,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby locker.

Clark laughed, a little flustered. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me mysterious before.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything,” she said with a playful shrug. Then her tone shifted, becoming more sincere.

Clark smiled and looks at her. ,,And— the guy with the drums was your boyfriend or..?” he said curiously— of course he didn’t want to build up some hopes but, why not asking right?

Her smile widened, and she glanced back toward Theodore, who was still leaning against the lockers, pretending not to listen.

“Well— definitely not. His name is Theodore and he is my older brother. He shares the same passion like me— he is more into sex pistols and I am more into the smiths. But music’s always been my thing. It’s… kind of like home, no matter where I am.” she started to ramble— she was quite a talker.

Clark nodded and found that adorable of how she got into a conversation flow. “That makes sense. You looked like you belonged up there.”

Y/N looked at him for a moment, her gaze softening. “Thanks, Clark. Really.” Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “So, are you going to stick with the ‘guy who never goes to shows’ routine, or are you thinking about breaking that streak?”

He smiled, shifting his weight slightly. “I guess that depends. Are you playing again soon?”

“Maybe,” she said, clearly enjoying the game. “Guess you’ll have to keep an eye out.”

Clark nodded, his shyness melting away as her energy pulled him in. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” she said with a soft smile. “See you around, Clark Kent.”

And with that, she turned back to Theodore, leaving Clark standing in the middle of the hallway, feeling like the world had shifted just slightly under his feet.

As he watched her walk away, Pete and Chloe appeared at his side, both smirking.

“Smooth, Clark,” Pete teased. “Real smooth.”

Chloe grinned. “So, is this where we start dragging you to more coffee shop gigs?”

Clark didn’t answer. His gaze was still fixed on Y/N, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Maybe you should.”

🖤 i hope u guys enjoyed! and stream APT by my girl rosé

[litnerdwrites]

This reminds me of a video I watched by Rachel Oates, called 'How much does intent matter in Art?' that covers this nicely. She discusses a theory I learned about in Media studies called 'the medium is the message', by Marshall McLuhan, which, suggests, to put simply, that art or media (including books) are encoded with messages, and views, even if you don't realise it, and when the audience consumes them, they decode it, and perceive it. While she doesn't mention SJM or her books, applying the theory to poetry to try and educate people about intention and outcome in art.

Rachel basically explains (better than me, since I'll keep it short for brevity) that if an artist, of any kind, hones and utilises the techniques and skills that come with their craft well, then the audience perceives the message as intended. However, if they utilise their techniques poorly, then the audience will intemperate a different message.

You can still like it, enjoy it, or say you personally think it's really good, because art is inherently subjective, but searching for techniques and their utilisation in art is how a critique critiques them. It's why critique review and audience review of movies and tv shows differ. A critique rates it based on cinematography, writing, directing, and a other factors that may very depending on if it's a tv show, live action animation, etc. Meanwhile audiences rate it on entertainment, relatability, and how impactful it is, etc.

Of course, objective critiques can be argued, with evidence. One person could take a quote from any of the ACOTAR books and use it to argue why ACOTAR is a feminist story, while someone else could take a different, or even the same quote, and argue otherwise, with the artist's intention becoming irrelevant.

Rachel, also explains, art needs to be able to stand on it's own, without needing background about the artist or other context, for it to have meaning or to affect people, to which I agree. Especially in this context.

Take the hike scene. SJM intended it for it to be therapeutic, and healing for Nesta, while others, myself included, argue that it was poorly written at best, and example of abuse at worst. Often, people use SJM's real life hike to argue this point. However, if that context is needed for the scene to stand, then it was't well executed. At best it show's SJM's lack of skill, and usage of structure, plot and techniques, with a lack of true understanding of depression, and the state of mind people are in when they consider taking their own life, and at worst, it shows a very dangerous mindset surrounding the aforementioned subjects.

The point Rachel ultimately makes, is that intention doesn't matter if art, including literature, is offensive, or harmful.

If SJM failed to send the feminist message her books were advertised for having, then her intent doesn't amount to much. If someone is offended by your art, or criticises it for the way it handles certain subject matter, then that reflects a lack of skill on the author's part, at best. At worst, it reflects dangerous ideals and mindsets.

It's also important to understand that many people have different upbringings, and life experiences, which is another reason that there are such different interpretations of art. Every character in her books have said or done things worthy of criticism, some more than others. SJM has said, done and written things that need to be criticised, her handling of race, colonisation and slavery, to name a couple, outside of just how she botched feminism and abuse.

There are victims who relate to Feyre, Mor, Rhys, etc. There are victims who relate more to Nesta, Tamlin, Eris, etc. There are victims who condemn SJM's books and characters in their entirety. There are people, who aren't victims, that relate to Azriel, Emerie, Elain, tc. There are people, who aren't victims, that relate to Viviane, Tarquin, Gwyn, etc. There are people, who aren't victims, that condemn SJM and her writing in their entirety.

However, if SJM is called out for offending people, be it marginalised communities, women in general, or victims, then it's worth apologising, reevaluating why and trying to improve her craft to prevent doing so again. Also, editors and sensitivity readers wouldn't go amis, especially in stories that try to use themes of slavery, racial and gendered discrimination.

To wrap this up, SJM's intent doesn't matter. If people are offended, she needs to take accountability, apologise, and try to do better next time. Given her consistent failure to use incorporate race and slavery into her books in a way that handles the topics with the respect they deserve, I'd say she's failed on all three fronts there. In fact, it become clear that racial and queer representation are half-assed just to give her plausible deniability. If people like it, she can take the credit, if not she can deny it.

Ultimately, art is subjective. Just because she receives criticism, doesn't mean you have to hate it. You're free to have your opinions, but don't be rude, cruel, or otherwise bully others for theirs.

If you're going to try have a discussion with me about these books then I need you to bare in mind that I base absolutely none of my opinions or analyses on SJMs intentions

I have 0 faith that that woman even recognizes the absolutely horrid things she has written nevermind that she intends to actually go into much depth with any of it (Rhysand's abuse, the IC dynamics, the terrible ruling system, retcon retcon retcon for days, the Illyrians, Nesta etc). And people can say that's misogynistic if they want, I do not care. She has shown absolutely no evidence that she doesn't have her head completely encased by the Inner Circles asses or that that and her inability to self insert hasn't completely skewed the way she writes this series so sue me. I don't even believe she fully understands the characters she has written, it's as if she has written so much retconning and gaslighting behaviour in this story that she's somehow managed to gaslight herself at this stage

So anyway my opinions and my interpretations of the characters are based on their actions in the text not what SJM intended for them to convey or whatever bullshit she has the IC spout and if that's what you like to follow that's fine but go be a sheep somewhere else because I won't engage with it I'm sorry (not really)

[thesecondhandwoman]

BEST FRIENDS

Powder x f!reader

(not an actual ship)

Summary: You were one of the new little kids that Vander had taken in ever since he found you lost and alone, but ever since, you’ve been feeling left out. Powder, like she always was, was able to notice that, and decided that maybe she might be able to make an new best friend.

The Last Drop was quieter than usual. Vander hummed softly as he wiped down the bar, his large hands working deftly with a cloth. Seated on one of the high stools, you sat with your knees drawn to your chest, eyes fixed on the scuffed wooden surface. You had been here for a week now, taken in by Vander after finding yourself lost in the chaos of Zaun.

The other kids—Vi, Mylo, and Claggor—were nice enough. But they were older, louder, and already close-knit. Vi tried to include you once or twice, but her boldness overwhelmed you. Mylo’s teasing made you shrink further, and Claggor, though kind, simply followed the lead of his friends. You were too shy to try harder, and they seemed unsure how to break through the invisible barrier you’d built around yourself.

Powder, however, was different.

The youngest of the group, Powder spent much of her time tinkering or tagging along with Vi. She’d noticed you, of course, always sitting quietly in the background, as if trying to become invisible. Powder wasn’t sure why, but you reminded her of herself—how she felt sometimes when Vi and the others left her behind on more daring escapades.

So today, as you sat on the bar stool, head resting on your arms, Powder hesitated for a moment before clambering up onto the stool next to you.

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft and a little hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Hi,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Powder swung her legs back and forth, the tips of her shoes not quite reaching the floor. She fiddled with her fingers nervously, then blurted, “Wanna hear about my idea? It’s… it’s for a monkey bomb.”

You blinked at her, tilting your head slightly. “A… monkey bomb?”

Powder nodded eagerly, her shyness melting away as excitement took over. “Yeah! So, it’s like a little toy monkey, but it has, uh, stuff inside it. Boom stuff.” She threw her hands up in a dramatic explosion, grinning. “When you wind it up, it claps its cymbals, and then—BOOM!”

Your eyes widened, a small giggle escaping your lips. Powder’s grin grew wider. “It’s not done yet, though,” she admitted, swinging her legs again. “But I’m gonna make it work someday.”

You smiled shyly, your earlier nervousness easing under her bright enthusiasm. “That sounds… cool.”

Powder’s cheeks flushed with pride. “You think so?”

You nodded, and she beamed. “Maybe, um, you could help me someday? If you want to,” she added quickly, her voice suddenly quieter. “Vi says I’m too messy, but… I think it’d be fun. And not so scary if we did it together.”

You hesitated for a moment, then gave her a small smile. “Okay.”

The word was quiet, but it made Powder light up like a firecracker. “Really? Awesome!” She hopped off her stool and grabbed your hand, her small fingers wrapping tightly around yours. “We’ll be the best team! Like, super secret inventor buddies.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her excitement, the sound surprising even you. Powder’s grin turned mischievous. “Come on, I’ll show you my workshop! Just don’t tell Vi—it’s a secret.”

As she tugged you off the stool and toward the back room, your heart felt a little lighter. Powder chattered away about her ideas and plans, her hand warm and steady in yours. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

And from that day forward, Powder became your best friend, the one person who could always make you smile—even with talk of monkey bombs.

Reminder: I’m trying to cope, and making cute little best friends was the first thing that came to mind.