#what do you MEAN you’re at her house and don’t know what to do what are you asking me for

[dearlenore]

YOU NEVER ASKED • S.REID

SUMMARY: when the team requests additional funding from Strauss to upgrade their equipment due to multiple accidents related to their function, you reveal a secret they never would’ve guessed. Over the weeks following they

PAIRING: bau!reader x spencer

tags: cold!reader, established relationship, sugarbaby!spencer, rich reader, needy clingy spencer (even at work),

a/n: this was a request btw thru dm!! If you make a dm request it might take longer or less time entirely depending on if you’ve reposted my work before and I know you or your work and how interesting ur request is, sorry!! My brain is so scrambled

w/c: 1.1K

THE FIRST TIME your co workers saw the extent of your wealth was on a fairly ordinary day.

Spencer’s hand was wrapped around yours under the table.

It wasn’t unusual—Spencer always had to be touching you, whether it was a lingering brush of fingers, his arm slung around your waist, or his head resting against your shoulder after a long day. He wasn’t possessive, just clingy in a way that you had long since accepted, and honestly, found endearing.

Right now, his fingers were loosely laced with yours, thumb brushing absentminded circles against your skin as the team sat in the conference room, focused on a discussion with Strauss.

You were only half-listening. As the BAU’s new liaison, you had to be present for meetings like this, but the budget discussion wasn’t exactly riveting.

“We understand the financial constraints,” Hotch was saying, his voice level as he addressed Strauss, “but this is a necessary expense. We’ve had three major equipment failures in the past month alone.”

Morgan leaned forward. “Two of those put agents at risk. We got lucky, but next time? Maybe we won’t.”

Strauss sighed, clearly unimpressed but unwilling to outright deny the request. “The Bureau’s budget is already stretched thin. I’ll bring this to the director, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be approved.”

Without much thought, you spoke. “I’ll take care of it.”

The room went quiet.

Strauss blinked, turning her attention toward you. “Excuse me?”

You scrolled through something on your phone, barely looking up. “I’ll cover the cost. Just send me the final amount, and I’ll handle it.”

There was a brief pause before Morgan spoke. “You’re serious?”

You glanced at him, almost confused. “Yes.”

JJ, seated across from you, furrowed her brow. “That’s not exactly a small amount.”

“I know.”

Emily tilted her head slightly. “And you can just… do that?”

You finally set your phone down. “Mhm.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I gotta ask—how?”

Spencer, beside you, stiffened slightly. His grip on your hand didn’t loosen, but you could feel the tension in his posture.

You sighed, as if this was mildly inconvenient rather than a massive revelation. “My parents have money.”

Hotch studied you. “How much money?”

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly. “Enough.”

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Okay, but what does that mean? Are we talking ‘nice house in the suburbs’ rich or—”

Spencer finally spoke, voice quiet but firm. “…they’re from a long line of friends Ivy league founders”

That sent another wave of silence through the room.

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Emily smirked. “That does explain a lot.”

JJ shook her head, laughing. “And you never mentioned this before because…?”

You shrugged. “It’s not relevant.”

Garcia looked vaguely betrayed. “Not relevant? Not relevant? You have generational wealth, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

You gave her a flat look. “Would it have changed anything?”

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. “…Okay, maybe not, but still!”

Rossi, who had been listening with mild amusement, finally spoke. “If you’re willing to fund the upgrades, I don’t see why we’d turn it down.”

You nodded. “Just let me know the amount.”

Strauss, looking slightly thrown but not displeased, simply nodded. “I’ll coordinate with the Bureau’s finance department.”

With that, the discussion moved on and everyone but you and Spencer left the conference room.

Spencer, who had been silent throughout the latter half of the conversation, finally exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

You turned to him, lips twitching. “You okay?”

He huffed quietly, glancing at you. “You could’ve given me a heads-up.”

“Mhm, but what’s the fun in that?” You cooed before kissing his nose sweetly

The second time was when they caught you pampering your hopelessly adorable boyfriend.

Okay well… for the record.

Spencer Reid was not spoiled.

At least, that’s what he told himself. And everyone else.

Sure, his coffee appeared on his desk every morning, still piping hot from the overpriced café down the street. And yes, his wardrobe had significantly improved over the past few months—his old, slightly ill-fitting sweaters replaced with custom-tailored cashmere ones that felt suspiciously nice against his skin.

And maybe the watch on his wrist was worth more than the entirety of his apartment’s furniture.

But he wasn’t spoiled. Not at all.

The rest of the team, however, seemed to have reached a different conclusion.

“You know, pretty boy,” Morgan drawled, leaning against Spencer’s desk with a smirk, “I never pegged you as the type to have a personal assistant.”

Spencer frowned, looking up from his paperwork. “What?”

Morgan nodded toward the cup of coffee sitting on Spencer’s desk. “That your usual delivery?”

Spencer sighed, setting his pen down. “It’s just coffee.”

“From a place that charges twenty bucks for a latte,” Emily added, appearing behind Morgan with a grin.

Spencer huffed. “It’s not twenty dollars.”

“No, but it’s close,” JJ teased, leaning against the desk beside Morgan.

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, the sound of approaching footsteps caught everyone’s attention.

You walked into the bullpen, a small bag in hand, and made a beeline straight for Spencer’s desk.

“Hey,” you greeted, dropping the bag onto his desk before pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “Lunch.”

Spencer’s lips twitched in a smile as he peered inside the bag. His favorite Italian , a side of fruit, and—he pulled out the container—homemade cookies from the expensive French bakery he loved.

His heart swelled.

“Thank you,” he murmured, glancing up at you with something bordering on pure adoration.

You just smiled. “Of course.”

Morgan, JJ, and Emily exchanged a look before Morgan spoke. “Okay, I have to ask—how often does this happen?”

You tilted your head. “How often does what happen?”

“This.” He gestured to the coffee, the lunch, everything. “Bringing him food, buying him clothes—spoiling him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call it spoiling.”

Emily scoffed. “Oh, it definitely is.”

Spencer crossed his arms, shifting slightly in his seat. “I am not spoiled.”

JJ smirked. “Reid, when was the last time you paid for your own coffee?”

Spencer hesitated.

Morgan grinned. “Exactly.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms. “What, am I not allowed to take care of my boyfriend?”

“Oh, you definitely are,” Emily said. “It’s just funny watching him try to pretend he’s not completely pampered.”

Spencer huffed. “I am not—”

“Pretty boy, you don’t even drive anymore.”

Spencer scowled. “That’s just practical. Why should I drive when I can be chauffeured—” He stopped, realizing his mistake immediately.

Morgan grinned. “Chauffeured?”

Emily outright laughed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

JJ patted his shoulder. “No, you don’t.”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay, baby. Let them tease.”

Spencer groaned, but his cheeks were already tinged pink.

Yeah. He was never going to live this down.

[igotanidea]

Bait: Jason Todd x reader

aka: the one when Jason's family is using you to renew relationship with him

She certainly did not expect to see a huge bouquet sitting on top of her desk on rainy Friday morning.

And definitely did not want them.

Cause if there was one thing sure in the world it was that those flowers couldn’t have been a gift from Jason.

And if not from Jason this meant she had a secret admirer.

And since she was a taken and very in love woman, a man creeping on her could turn into a big problem, especially considering the fact that she was taken by no one else but Red Hood, who wasn;t a big fan of sharing.

“Y/N! Look, those came for you, this morning.”

“Uh. I see.” She muttered, trying to act unfazed by the excited squeals of her office bestie. How could she be so happy about it? And what the hell was her definition of morning if it was barely 8.30 am?

“You look like you’re mad about it.”

“I’m not mad about it-“

“Then what is it about?” God save Y/N from the office gossip and curious coworkers.

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s nothing.” She put a smile that was equally as big as it was fake, hoping it would be enough to nip this ridiculous conversation in the bud. “I got a lot of work, you know. How about we talk during the lunch break, how does that sound? Good? Great, see you later then!” Before anyone managed to chip in and threw their opinion into the newest office sensation Y/N closed the door to her room, using the unusual force of will power into not locking them. This place definitely didn’t have enough men on board, cause as much as she was a fan of women and their greatest cheerleader a firm full of girls could turn into a hen house at times.

Only after taking a few inhales and exhales did she begin the inspection of the gift, created from her favorite plants.

Hence – the person who sent it must have known her.

She started counting in her mind the amount of people who were close enough to dare to gather such knowledge, successfully limiting it to about 5 individuals.

Second clue was wrapping paper. The kind that only one flower shop in this silly city used. A very expensive one, hence someone truly must have put an effort into this.

And that made her narrow her suspect circle to three people.

But the final tell tale was a card, sticking innocently from the bottom. A teeny tiny note as if someone who endowed her hoped the recipient wouldn’t notice it.

Ha! Good try, but not when it came to Y/N. Honestly, living with Red Hood made her not as vigilant, as almost paranoid and sensitive to every detail.

Back to the gift card.

Two words. Two completely harmless words that under any other circumstances would mean absolutely nothing.

Thank you.

Oh hell no!

***

“Hello?”

“Dick! What the hell!?”

“Hello Y/N. So good to hear you too, how’s your day going?”

“Don’t try to placate me!”

“I swear you became so aggressive since living with Jason-“

“What the hell?!” she cried out again, circling the desk and the flowers as if it was a predator only waiting for the right opportunity to pounce at her, not that he could see it through the phone.

“I take it, you got my gift?”

“Oh, I got your  gift, all right. Thank you! I’m not doing you any favors, wing! I merely managed to get Jason to talk to you about-“

“Which was a small miracle by itself and I figured it would be nice to –“

“- to what? To freaking bribe me!?”

“Bribe you?!” Dick gasped, acting dramatically even through the phone “I’m hurt, Y/N. It’s nothing more but a token of my gratitude.” She could almost see his shit-eating grin through the phone.”

“It’s a freaking bribe, Dick!”

“It’s a token of gratitude!”

“Oh yeah? And what will you ask in return? Cause I know for sure I am being used to get to Jason. And that’s both betrayal to Jay and – “

“I would never use my favorite sister-in-law to – “

“I am not your sister in law!”

“Yet.” He cut her off with a hint of humor in voice. “But since we’re already speak I’ve been thinking that maybe you could – “

“Oh, what? What? Dick? I cannot hear you! I’m entering the tunnel – I’m – losing – the – connection….”

She hated using such a lame excuse to hang up on her boyfriend’s older brother but clearly, using any rational argument against Dick Grayson while in his playful attitude was completely futile. And a loss of energy, that she didn’t have in abundance.

But once again, she was starting to realize that forming a relationship with Jason was equal to getting into a mess of connections with his entire (huge) family.

***

She should have left those flowers in the office and that mistake became painfully clear the second the crossed the threshold of her and Jason’s apartment. There were no logical arguments against doing otherwise, besides the fact that it was upcoming weekend and no one would water thema and they would turn into dry sticks on Monday and since Dick bought them for her it would be a waste of money and –

Yeah, yeah, women logic.

Though, men’s logic was working in quite different, mysterious ways….

“Jay? I’m home! Something smells nice in here!”

Coat ended up in the wardrobe, shoes on the shelf, bag on the hanger and without much thinking she followed her nose to the kitchen, eyes landing on her boyfriend in that silly no bitchin in my kitchin apron, bustling about.

“Hi princess.” Obviously, he didn’t even have to turn around to sense her presence. “How was work today?”

“Like a sledgehammer. I swear, sometimes I feel like strangling half of the people there.”

“Do you need help with that violent activity?” he grinned and finally spun to face her, heading for a kiss on the forehead when his sharp gaze laser focused on the thing she was still holding in her hands. Laser gaze that turned from playful and loving to accusatory and cunning in a second. And regardless of how amazingly swiftly Jason was switching between his two personas, such transformation also send a shiver down her spine.

Not a nice kind of tremble.

“Y/n?”

“Um…”

“You got something to say to me?”

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear-“

“Princess.”

“I can explain!”

“Good. Good, sweetheart, because explanation is all I’m asking about.” Jason grinned, but it was the grin of Red Hood, who was expecting a low blow, right into the groin.

He stepped closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to carelessly toss the bouquet somewhere far away.

“I can’t remember buying them.” He pointed out, now sneaking the other arm on her, effectively but subtly preventing her potential escape.

“Hm? Oh no, you didn’t. In fact you haven’t bought me flowers since my birthday last year and – “

“nun-uh. Back to the point, Y/N.” he smiled again “where did you get them? Who did you get it from?”

“It’s not what you think!” She struggled against his grip.

“You have no idea what I think, love.”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“I know.”

“Then what’s with the squeezing and hugging and – “

“Can’t a guy hold his girlfriend after a long day apart?”

“Since when are you so cuddly all of a sudden?!”

“Since some fucker is clearly trying to flirt with my woman!”

Oh…

He called her his woman. Not a girlfriend, not a girl, not any other sweet yet infantile word of affection.

His woman.

Making their entire relationship seem way more serious than –

Still being enraged and holding her captive until getting the info he wanted.

And that made her get back to reality from the cloud nine she was floating on.

“Who was it baby?” he whispered, leaning to nuzzle into her neck.

“No one!”

“Mhh. Don’t think so.” His lips moved upwards and to her ear. “You are protecting someone, I can tell. If it makes you feel any better, I can promise I won’t do any permanent damage. Just a broken leg or an arm as a reminder to keep a court mandated restraining order….”

“I take it you’re the presiding judge in this case?”

“Of course…” he kissed her briefly, rubbing soothing circles on her waist. “But cross my heart, no shooting, bleeding out or spine twisting.”

“Those are your arguments to convince me?”

“I can kiss you senseless and make you feel so high you’d babble it, but figured it was nice to try and ask.”

“Huh! Lucky me.” She scoffed.

Of course she could just tell him, but that would probably cause an interstate scandal and a very heated argument in a Wayne family.

If only Jason knew the scope of conspiracy against him-

She spaced out for a moment and those few seconds were used by Jason to take a look at the flowers on the floor and quickly get into the same conclusion about the donor she had earlier at the office.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“What? NO! What happened to the no permanent damage!?”

“This is not permanent damage! This is terminal damage!” Jason yelled, grabbing his jacket and keys.

“And where is the difference in – Jason!? Jason! Where the hell are you—Oh my god….”

 ***

Living with Red hood under one roof was sure as hell far from peaceful, but never in her wildest dreams she wouldn’t think that it would get to such an extreme as chasing her biker boyfriend thought Gotham In a car.

***

“Where the hell is he?!” Jason busted through the door of Wayne Manor, acting like his usual self.

“Jason, what-“ Bruce looked up from his newspaper, displeased but not surprised by the commotion.

“I swear to God, when I get my hands on him-“

“Jason!” Y/N busted through the doors a few minutes later, and her appearance made quite a noticeable effect.

“Y/N.” Something akin to a smile bloomed on papa Wayne's face, getting as far as making him stand up and approach her. “So good to see you.”

“Yeah, um – nice to –“

“Listen, I’ve been thinking about something-“

“Yeah? You were?” she stuttered, looking above Bruce’s shoulder, helplessly observing Jason and Dick strangling, pushing and pulling, acting like two mad wrestlers in front of camera, much to Batman’s obliviousness. “Um… Bruce-“ her efforts to put his attention to the display of violence behind him came to nothing.

“Later. Now, I know you’ve been struggling to gather finances for your post-grad-“

“What? The hell you know that? Did you run a background check on me!?”

“And I was thinking I could loan you the amount –“ he skillfully omitted her question getting right to the point.

“L-loan me-?”

“Look, there’s no shame in asking your family for help. It’s natural.” Y/N could not believe the words Bruce was aiming her way. Family help? How could he be such a freaking hypocrite? When was his effing family help when Jason was struggling?

“Uh…” she groaned in total shock, while Dick and Jason were now running around the Manor, like a two five year olds playing chase, making so much noise it was getting almost hilarious that Bruce chose not to hear it.

“And I was hoping to see you and Jason at dinner on Saturday? And maybe next Saturday? And maybe every Saturday?”

Was that hope in Bruce’s voice?

“Over my dead body!” Jason’s yelling tore into the conversation and finally Bruce sighed, acting almost forced to intervene.

And the fact that his two sons were laying on the ground, one being half-choked the other flat on his back with the first on top of him made zero impression.

“Those are not funny words to use, Jason.”

“Those are when I say it.” Jason smirked almost vindictively.

“Get off Dick, Jason.”

“Like hell I am going to get off him.”

“I don’t know what I did!” Dick whined theatrically

“Don’t give me bullshit, Grayson! You bought her flowers!”

“As if it was the first time—AAH!”

It took the combined efforts of Y/N, Bruce and even Alfred (who had a miraculous talent of showing up when most needed) to stop Jason from knocking out Dick’s teeth.

“You!” he hissed, throwing his hands around, before grabbing onto Y/N and pulling her into his chest. “You are all a bunch of mentals! Using my girl to get to me! She’s not your fucking toy!” he held her even closer as if she was a precious baby, unaware of being treated like a pawn and having to be protected at all cost. “I swear if she wasn’t here I would –“

“Father, what is all that noise?”  Damian was standing on top of the stairs, looking down at everyone, both metaphorically and literally.

“We have guests.” Bruce stated with a flat tone.

“Oh, Y/L/N, good. I got those books you were looking for and –“

***

-        and she was forbidden to ever contact any of his family members ever again. 

[issues4him]

KNISMOLAGNIA x BSF!RAFE

cw : tickle kink, smut, 18+, f receiving oral, penetration, alcohol, drunk confessions

the boneyard was alive. laughter, music, firelight dancing in the distance—everything pulsed like a heartbeat under the stars. you were long past tipsy, clinging to rafe’s arm like he was a lifeline, your body warm and loose against his as you stumbled barefoot across the sand in your jean shorts and black bikini top, “raaaaaafe,” you whined dramatically, tugging at the hem of his shirt, “you’re, like… my favorite person ever. you know that?”

he glanced down at you, brows raised, beer still in hand. “you’ve already told me that five times now, hun.”

“okay, but like—i mean it this time.”

“you said you meant it the other four times too.”

you burst out laughing, then suddenly gasped and clung to his side like you were being swept away by the tide. “wait—oh my god—this is so embarrassing but i have to tell you something.”

rafe looked amused, his free hand steadying you by your waist. “you better not be ‘bout to tell me you buried a body or somethin’, pretty girl?”

“worse.” you gave him a wide-eyed look, finger pressed to your lips like you were sharing a top-level secret. “it’s about sex.”

that caught his attention. he blinked, actually turning toward you this time, jaw tightening just slightly. “okay…”

you leaned in, almost conspiratorially, your words slow and slurry. “i have this thing… like this kink, i guess? but i don’t even remember what it’s called!”

“do i even want to know?” he muttered, though there was a smirk playing at his lips.

“okay… i get, like, sooo turned on when i get ticked,” you said plainly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “like—not in a haha way. like in a fuck-me-right-now kinda way.” rafe nearly choked on his drink. you blinked up at him sweetly, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. “like, i don’t even know why, okayy? but every time someone tickles my sides i get all—mmf!!—and like, my legs get weak and i can’t help it, it’s soooo annoying.”

he stared at you. “are you being serious right now?”

you nodded enthusiastically, cheeks flushed from the alcohol—and maybe the confession. “dead serious. like, do you know what i mean? like when they get that spot just under your ribs and you can’t stop laughing but also it’s kinda like—ugh, i don’t know. it’s like electric. just makes me so horny”

“…you’re insane.”

“hey!!” you defended, poking his chest. “i’m being vulnerable right now.”

rafe ran a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose as if trying to reset his brain. “okay, well. thank you for that information. that’ll be real useful next time someone tries to torture you.”

you giggled, stumbling forward and latching onto him again. “shut uppp!! you’ve done it before.”

“done what?”

“tickled me, duh.”

he stiffened. because she was right. he had tickled her before. a million times. and now… now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

when he pulled up to your house later that night—well past two a.m., the car quiet except for your soft humming in the passenger seat—rafe couldn’t stop replaying what you’d said.

“i get sooo turned on when people tickle me.”

at first, he laughed it off. crazy drunk girl shit. but then his brain started connecting dots he shouldn’t have been connecting. like the time he’d tackled you onto the couch during movie night because you kept stealing the remote. his fingers found your ribs and you shrieked, kicking and squirming, breathy laughter spilling out as you tried to fight him off. he remembered the way your back arched under him, how your laugh broke into something softer, breathier—how your thighs clamped together and your face flushed so hard it made him uncomfortable. or the time at the beach when he picked you up and you’d squealed, instinctively trying to protect your sides. he dug in anyway, just to mess with you, and you went limp in his arms, laughing but gasping too—your head falling back against his shoulder like you couldn’t breathe right. he thought about your face. the way your eyes fluttered shut. the way you bit your lip after, like you were recovering from something more than just a tickle fight.

holy fuck. you weren’t kidding. you were into that. and now he couldn’t unsee it. rafe leaned his head back against the car seat, staring up at the ceiling like it could give him answers. he should’ve just ignored it. laughed it off. but instead all he could think about was how many times he’d unknowingly gotten you off by doing something as stupid as tickling you. and how much he suddenly wanted to do it on purpose.

it had been six days since that night at the boneyard. three days since you got drunk out of your mind, draped yourself all over rafe like he was your personal tree to climb, and slurred out confessions that had echoed in his head every single night since. you’d whispered it, how much getting tickled turned you on, drunk and giggling, like it was a throwaway joke. but rafe hadn’t laughed. he’d gone silent. because once you said it—once you planted that thought—he couldn’t unsee it.

he kept replaying every time he’d ever made you laugh. every time his hands found your sides and you squirmed, laughing so hard you cried. the way your back arched. the way your thighs squeezed together. the breathless sounds between your giggles. that one time you bit your lip after, still catching your breath. he thought it was innocent and harmless. but now he knew. and it was driving him insane. so when you invited him over for movie night that friday—completely casual, like nothing had happened—he knew what he wanted to do. and he’d been working up the nerve to do it the entire night.

the movie had been forgotten twenty minutes ago. it was still playing in the background—some half-watched action sequence flashing against the walls—but you and rafe had started bickering over something stupid. you’d been sitting side by side, blanket draped over both your legs, tossing popcorn at each other and fighting over which actor was hotter. nothing new. until you rolled your eyes, shoved the blanket off, and suddenly climbed over him—planting your knees on either side of his lap, straddling him with that same innocent energy you always had.

just best friends. just teasing. you weren’t even thinking. “take it back,” you demanded, pushing a hand against his chest, your oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder. “he is not hotter than jake gyllenhaal.”

rafe leaned back against the couch, arms spread lazily along the back, letting you sit on him like it was normal. like your bare thighs weren’t warm and soft around his hips. like you weren’t sitting right on top of him. “you’re insane,” he smirked. “you just like him ‘cause he’s your type—soft jaw, pretty eyes, pathetic little mouth.”

you gasped, shoving him harder. “omg, rude!”

he chuckled under his breath, his hands moving slowly to rest on your hips, gripping gently—probably without even realizing it. you shifted on top of him without thinking, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest. rafe’s eyes flicked downward. he couldn’t help it. the way your breath hitched from laughing so hard earlier. the fact that you were on his lap, t-shirt sliding up, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to hide the heat of your body against his. “y’know…” he murmured, head tilting, voice dipping just enough to make your stomach flutter. “you sit on my lap a lot for someone who calls me her best friend.”

you blinked, mouth parting. “wha—i do not—”

“oh, you do.” his thumbs rubbed slow circles against your hips now, the barest pressure behind his words. “kinda makes me think you like being in my lap.”

you froze. just for a second. then you swatted at him. “shut up.”

he grinned. you tried to shift off him. big mistake. because he gripped your waist tighter and sat forward slightly. “nuh-uh. you’re not going anywhere, hun.”

“rafe—”

“you’re the one who got on me, remember?” and before you could argue, his fingers dug into your sides.

your body jerked, hard. a loud, involuntary shriek shot out of your mouth, laughter tumbling after it like a broken faucet. “NO—RAFE—” you gasped, immediately squirming and flailing, trying to escape his hands as he tickled your ribs. but you couldn’t. not when he had you straddling him, knees digging into the couch cushions, body locked against his. and you were laughing so hard. the kind of laughing that had you breathless, squeaking, twitching uncontrollably. your hands grabbed at his shirt, then his wrists, then back to his shirt again—like you couldn’t decide whether to push him away or hold on for dear life.

your hips rolled against his by accident. once. then again. and that’s when he felt it. your squirming. the soft drag of your warmth over the bulge that was very quickly forming beneath his sweats. rafe cursed internally. he almost stopped. almost told himself to pull back, to take a breath. but then you tipped your head back, your hair falling down your back, your laughter cracking into something breathy and desperate—and he lost all control.

he grabbed you tighter, then suddenly shifted. you let out a surprised squeak as he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, climbing on top of you now, knees planted on either side of your thighs. he hovered above you, grinning down like the devil himself. “rafe—no, don’t—” you panted through laughter, trying to wriggle beneath him.

“don’t what?” he murmured. “do this?” he started again. fingertips ghosting over your waist, your ribs, down to your hips and back up. every time you tried to block him, he’d change directions—tickling beneath your arms, then the dip beneath your ear, then up your neck, watching your face the whole time. and that’s when he saw it. your laugh started to fade into something softer. your eyes fluttered. your mouth parted. a tiny—almost imperceptible—moan slipped past your lips. and then you bit your lip hard, cheeks burning so pink it made rafe freeze.

the giggles were still there, but they were cracked and shaky, like you were holding back. your hands grabbed fistfuls of the blanket beneath you like you needed to ground yourself. and your thighs… your thighs were shifting open beneath his. rafe swallowed hard, watching your face like he was seeing it for the first time. your chest rising and falling fast. your lips bitten red. that same dazed, needy look in your eyes he’d only seen once before—three nights ago, in a car, while you were drunk and vulnerable and honest.

now you weren’t drunk. and you still looked the same. you looked worse. wrecked. but you hadn’t said a word. his fingers dragged slowly down your thigh—pausing just at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. you flinched—but didn’t move away. cidn’t say no. you were staring up at him, blinking slowly, lips barely parted, chest still heaving. silent now. but your body said everything.

rafe’s voice broke the silence. low and strained. “…you sure you don’t remember what you told me last weekend at the party?”

your face went even redder. you didn’t answer. but your thighs opened further beneath his hips. and that was all he needed.

your thighs parted for him, wide and slow like your body was acting on instinct before your brain could catch up. you were breathing hard. still dazed. still trying to keep your eyes on his, but they kept flicking downward—down to his lips, down to where he hovered above you. rafe didn’t move at first. he just stared. you, laid out beneath him. face flushed, chest rising and falling in fast, uneven breaths, hands tangled in the blanket like you didn’t know what to do with them.

his hands slid down your hips, then back up. slow. careful. like he was waiting for you to stop him. but you didn’t. you arched into it. a soft, breathy whimper left your lips, and that’s when his restraint shattered completely. rafe leaned down and kissed you. not rushed. not clumsy. hungry. his mouth met yours like he’d been starving for it—like he couldn’t believe he was finally tasting you. and you kissed him back without hesitation, lips parting instantly, desperate and breathless, moaning into his mouth like it was second nature.

your hands found his shirt—fisted the fabric, dragged him closer, pulled him into you. his hips dipped, grinding down against yours, and the pressure made your eyes roll back. you could feel how hard he was. and he knew you felt it—because he groaned low in his throat, lips dragging to your jaw, then down your neck. “fuck, babe,” he whispered against your skin. “i’ve wanted this for so long.”

your eyes snapped open. “wh—what?”

rafe didn’t stop. he kissed the hollow beneath your ear, then nipped gently at your pulse point as his hands slid under your hoodie. “the way you laugh… the way you move when i touch you. been drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy.” he pushed the t-shirt up slowly, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, then higher. you gasped when his mouth met your ribs. then again when he moved lower, trailing kisses along the inside of your thigh. you didn’t even realize when he’d slipped down the couch, dragging your shorts down with him—until the cold air hit the damp heat between your legs.

rafe froze. his voice was dark and ragged. “you’re soaked.”

you whimpered, hiding your face behind your arm. “shut up!—”

“don’t do that,” he said immediately, voice firmer now. “don’t hide from me.” his hands gripped your knees, spreading them wider apart as he settled between your thighs, eyes locked on your ruined panties. “you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “and this?” his thumb dragged over the damp fabric. “this is the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” you nearly whimpered. “can i?” he asked, fingers tugging gently at the waistband.

you nodded—fast, breath caught in your throat. he peeled them down slow, savoring every inch. and when you were bare for him, legs trembling and eyes glassy, he groaned—like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. then he lowered his mouth, and everything melted. he was slow and patient. tongue soft at first—teasing little flicks that made your toes curl—then deeper, firmer, sucking your clit into his mouth and groaning when your hips bucked against him. he held your thighs open, keeping you in place, moaning into you like he couldn’t get enough.

you were gasping. whining. one hand buried in his hair, the other clutching the pillow beneath your head, hips rolling helplessly with every stroke of his tongue. you felt high. drunk off him. he pulled back just enough to look at you—lips shiny, eyes heavy. “you’re gonna cum for me,” he murmured. “just like this.”

you nodded, desperate, thighs shaking as he sucked on your clit again, tongue circling exactly where you needed it. and when you finally shattered—mouth falling open in a broken moan, thighs clamping tight around his head—he groaned, dragging it out, letting you ride it through until you were trembling and boneless beneath him.

he crawled back up your body, kissed your lips again—slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue—and whispered, “…still just best friends, huh?”

you were still panting, body buzzing, heartbeat trying to settle. your orgasm had left you shaky, soft, and splayed across the couch—completely bare now beneath your hoodie. you blinked up at him through your lashes, flushed and messy and so undeniably wrecked from just his mouth. rafe hovered above you, bracing himself with one hand next to your head. his other trailed gently along your ribs—barely touching. you flinched slightly, even though it wasn’t rough. your breath hitched. he noticed.

his fingers traced the same spot again, “you’re still ticklish,” he murmured, voice low and deep. “even now?”

you swallowed hard. “rafe…”

he smirked—dark and knowing. “does it still turn you on?” you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. because your hips rolled toward him again. your thighs parted just a little. your breath came in shorter puffs, and your cheeks were right pink. so he did it again. light, teasing brushes across your sides. feather touches up your waist. just enough to make you squirm and let out the softest, broken laugh. but this time, it wasn’t giggles. it wasn’t a squeal. it was a whimper of laughter. like your brain couldn’t decide what to feel.

you covered your face with your hands, body twisting beneath him. “stop—stop, it’s—it’s too much—” but your smile betrayed you. so did your wet thighs. so did the way your knees slid further apart, welcoming him between them like you needed it.

rafe’s eyes burned into you, filled with something almost wild now. his cock was rock-hard, straining against the fabric of his sweats, already leaking just from watching you come undone like that. “fuck,” he rasped, leaning down so his lips grazed yours. “you’re unreal.”

you whimpered. “please.”

that’s all it took. his hands pushed down his sweats, not even fully off—just enough to free his cock, thick and flushed and aching. he stroked himself once, then twice, eyes never leaving your face as he settled between your legs, rubbing the head against your slick folds. you moaned—eyes fluttering, hips lifting into him. still teasing, he dragged the tip up and down, just barely pushing in, “look at me,” he said. you opened your eyes. “tell me you want it.”

“i—i want it,” you whispered, breathless. he pushed in slow, and your whole body tensed. the stretch—thick, slow, deliberate—pulled a broken moan from your lips as you reached for his arms, nails digging into his biceps. “rafe—oh my god—”

“fuck,” he groaned, pushing deeper, inch by inch. “you feel so good. so tight, baby.”

your breath hitched. baby. he was all the way in now, hips flush against yours, both of you frozen for a second—so close, so deep, so overwhelmed. then he moved. slow, deep thrusts that had your mouth falling open. his hips rolled just right, grinding into your clit with every stroke. he leaned down, mouth dragging across your neck, lips parted against your flushed skin. you wrapped your legs around his waist. held him tighter. tried to breathe through how good it felt. but he couldn’t stop teasing.

his fingers slid along your ribs again. soft and deliberate. you gasped, laughing through your moan as your hips twitched up into him. “rafe—”

“still works, huh?” he murmured against your throat. “even when i’m inside you?” you nodded helplessly, your laugh dissolving into another shaky moan when his cock hit that perfect spot again. your body was confused. overstimulated. kverwhelmed. he tickled your neck again. not hard. not playful. just barely enough to drive you insane. and your pussy fluttered around he murmured against your throat.

you whined, biting your lip, face burning. but you didn’t ask him to stop. you didn’t want him to. every time he thrust in—slow, thick, heavy—he’d let his fingers brush that one spot just beneath your ribs or along your thigh or under your knee. and you’d laugh. gasp. moan. twitch. over and over. it was so much. too much.

your nails clawed at his back now. your legs were shaking. your body was so overstimulated it felt like the pleasure had nowhere else to go. “rafe—i’m gonna cum again—”

he grabbed your jaw, forcing your eyes back to his. “then cum, baby girl. just like that. laughing and moaning all over my dick.”

you shattered. back arched. mouth open in a silent moan. your body went tight, pussy clenching hard around him as your climax rolled through you like a wave as he fucked you through it.

still slow. still deep. still tickling your ribs with one hand while the other gripped your thigh, dragging out your high until you were whimpering beneath him. “shit, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groaned. “i’m gonna cum—shit—fuck—” he kissed you hard as he thrust deep one final time, cock pulsing as he emptied into you, groaning your name against your mouth. for a moment, the room was silent. just your panting. his weight on top of you. your fingers still tangled in his hair. then you both started laughing—breathless, dazed, stunned.

“what the hell just happened,” you whispered.

rafe kissed your cheek, still inside you, beginning to soften. “i think,” he murmured, “i just found a very specific way to get whatever i want from you.” you bit your lip, cheeks burning. then he tickled you side gently. you flinched—and groaned. “…please don’t start.”

a/n: lmk what u guys thought of this pls!!!!

[amyzworldds]

Part two: Weight of Words

Masterlist | Part 1

After a wave of online hate and a painful misunderstanding with Seventeen, Y/N locks herself in her vibrant apartment, leaving the 13 boys anxious and restless. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Heavy angst, Fluff, Humor

Y/N sat motionless on her living room floor, surrounded by the vibrant chaos of her personality—pink pillows, green rugs, quirky trinkets—but it felt like a stranger’s space now. Her tears had dried up, hours of crying leaving her empty, eyes red and swollen, staring blankly at nothing. The room was silent, suffocatingly so. Normally, she’d be video-calling the boys, cackling over how they’d never escape her—“You’re stuck with me! New houses, new families, I’ll still haunt you!”—her voice bouncing off the walls. But tonight, the quiet pressed in, a heavy shroud over her shattered confidence. She felt hollow, a shell of the Y/N they’d always known.

The doorbell jolted her, sharp and insistent. She blinked, sluggish, and glanced at the monitor—13 familiar faces crowded her doorstep, their expressions tense. Her heart lurched, but she didn’t move, frozen by the weight of seeing them. Then the knocking started—loud, relentless—her phone buzzing with calls, texts pinging. Seungcheol’s message flashed: “Answer or we bang this door ‘til your neighbors hate us. Open up, Y/N-ah.” The threat wasn’t empty; she knew they’d do it.

She dragged herself up, legs shaky, and cracked the door open, avoiding their eyes. “Hey,” she mumbled, turning fast, shuffling to the kitchen. “I’ll… get water.” Her voice was flat, a flimsy shield. She didn’t want them to see her—puffy eyes, messy hair, the wreck she’d become.

They filed in, the air shifting with their presence, but she kept her back to them, fumbling with glasses. Seungcheol’s voice cut through, low and steady. “Y/N-ah, stop. The manager showed us your text.”

She froze, glass clinking hard against the counter, her breath catching. “What… text?” she croaked, but she knew—“Do I need to leave the group?”—and dread coiled tight in her chest.

“Turn around,” Jeonghan said, softer but firm. “Look at us.”

She didn’t want to—couldn’t—but Hoshi stepped closer, voice trembling with urgency. “Y/N-ah, please. We’re not leaving ‘til you hear us.”

Reluctantly, she turned, eyes on the floor, hands gripping the counter. Seungcheol stepped forward, holding the manager’s phone out, her message glowing accusingly. “This,” he said, voice thick. “You think we want you gone?”

Her lip quivered, but she held it in, staring at her feet. Woozi spoke, sharp with guilt. “You heard us, didn’t you? That day—‘tone it down, act your age.’ You walked in and caught the worst part.”

“We know you misunderstood,” Joshua added, gentle but pained. “You didn’t hear us worrying—freaking out ‘cause the hate was killing you.”

“We didn’t mean change who you are!” Mingyu burst out, stepping closer, voice cracking. “We were scared—scared you’d break under it all!”

She shook her head, voice small. “But you said it—‘lay low, feminine, mature.’ I tried—I toned it down, I acted my age, whatever that means—and they still hate me.” Her eyes lifted, glassy, brimming. “I saw the video—me dodging Jeonghan oppa. They called me fake, a flirt anyway. I can’t win—I’m dragging you down—”

“No!” Seungkwan cut in, loud and fierce. “You’re not dragging us anywhere—you’re us! The bashers? We’ll handle them—screw what they think!”

“You think we want you gone?!” Hoshi yelled, eyes wide, stepping right up to her. “You’re our maknae—our chaos! We’d fall apart without you!”

Tears spilled then, hot and fast, and she couldn’t stop them. “I don’t know what to do!” she sobbed, voice breaking into a wail. “I tried—I changed, I hid, and it’s still not enough! They want me out—say I’m a disgrace, your weak spot—I trained so hard, and they—” She crumpled, hands flying to her face, crying like a child, raw and unfiltered. “I feel so alone—I can’t even be me anymore!”

Seungcheol surged forward, pulling her into his arms, tight and unyielding. “You’re not alone,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “You’re never alone—hear me? We’re right here.”

Jeonghan joined, wrapping around her from the side, voice soft. “We don’t want you different, Y/N-ah. We love you—wild, loud, clingy, all of it.”

“You’re not a disgrace,” Mingyu said, kneeling in front of her, tears in his eyes. “You’re our strength—our heart. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

She sobbed harder, clinging to Seungcheol, words tumbling out. “I was so scared—you said ‘tone it down,’ and I thought… I thought you were ashamed of me! The hate—it’s everywhere—I can’t escape it!”

“We’re not ashamed,” Jun said, stepping up, voice firm despite the crack. “We were idiots—said it wrong. We wanted to protect you, not change you.”

“We’ll fight the hate,” Hoshi vowed, gripping her shoulder. “Post, call them out—whatever it takes. They don’t get to touch you.”

“You’re not leaving,” Seungkwan said, fierce, wiping his own tears. “Not over this—not ever. You’re stuck with us, got it?”

She nodded, a broken whimper escaping, and Dino piled in, hugging her waist. “You’re our Y/N-ah—our crazy, perfect maknae. No one’s taking you.”

Joshua’s voice was steady, warm. “You don’t have to pretend—not with us, not for anyone. Be you—that’s all we need.”

Her cries softened, trembling against Seungcheol’s chest as the others closed in, a protective circle. “I… I missed you,” she whispered, voice raw. “I didn’t know how to say it—I thought I’d ruin everything.”

“You could never ruin us,” Minghao murmured, ruffling her hair, his voice a lifeline. “You’re our family—cracks and all. We fix this together.”

She looked up, puffy-eyed, surrounded by them—her loud, messy, unshakable oppas—and the weight lifted, just a little. “I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t be,” Wonwoo said, squeezing her hand. “Just don’t shut us out again—we can’t lose you.”

“Never,” she promised, a shaky laugh breaking through. “You’re stuck with me haunting you forever.”

“Good,” Hoshi grinned, wiping her tears. “That’s our Y/N.”

They stayed like that—huddled in her colorful chaos—comfort settling over the storm. She cried out her fears, they held her through it, and for the first time in days, the quiet wasn’t suffocating. It was home.

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

Y/N sat nestled in the middle of her living room, still sniffling but steadier now, wrapped in the warmth of her 13 boys. The tears had slowed, her sobs replaced by shaky breaths, their arms and words a cocoon of comfort. She leaned against Seungcheol’s shoulder, Wonwoo hand still squeezing hers, the others sprawled around her like a chaotic guard. The silence wasn’t suffocating anymore—it was soft, safe. Then, a loud, unmistakable growl rumbled from her stomach, cutting through the tender moment like a foghorn.

She froze, eyes widening, then looked up at them, puffy-faced but indignant. “I’m hungry,” she announced, voice small but firm, blinking at their startled faces. “Where’s the food?”

The boys blinked back, caught off guard. “Uh…” Seungcheol started, scratching his neck. “We… didn’t bring any.”

Her jaw dropped, dramatic as ever, and she pulled back, staring at them like they’d committed treason. “What?!” she yelped, voice pitching up. “You didn’t bring food?!”

“We were worried!” Mingyu protested, hands up. “We saw that text and bolted—food wasn’t exactly on our minds!”

“Yeah, Y/N-ah,” Hoshi chimed in, grinning sheepishly. “We were too busy panicking about you leaving us!”

She stomped her foot—full maknae mode—pouting hard, her old spark flickering back. “That’s no excuse!” she wailed, crossing her arms, lips jutting out. “You know I’m sad—you know I’m a mess—and you show up empty-handed?! What kind of members are you?!”

Seungkwan snorted, trying to hide a laugh. “The kind who drove across Seoul at 8 p.m. to save you from yourself!”

“Save me with food!” she shot back, thumping her foot again, her pout deepening into a masterpiece. “I’ve been crying all day—my stomach’s screaming—and you didn’t even grab a ramyeon pack? A chip bag? Anything?!”

Jeonghan chuckled, ruffling her hair. “We thought you needed hugs, not snacks, drama queen.”

“Hugs and snacks!” she corrected, swatting his hand but leaning into it anyway. “I’m starving—I could die right here, and it’d be your fault!”

“Don’t die!” Dino yelped, clutching her arm, half-serious. “We’ll get you food—just don’t faint on us!”

“Too late,” she groaned, flopping back against Seungcheol with a theatrical sigh. “I’m fading… betrayed by my own family… no food, no hope…”

Seungcheol laughed, steadying her. “Alright, alright—calm down, you little monster. We’ll fix it.”

“Fix it now!” she demanded, sitting up, eyes glinting with mock fury. “You can’t just storm in, make me cry more, and not feed me! I deserve ramyeon—spicy ramyeon—and ice cream! And gummies!”

“Gummies too?” Joshua teased, grinning. “You’re pushing it, Y/N-ah.”

“Yes, gummies!” she huffed, pointing at him. “I’ve suffered—suffered!—and you owe me!”

Mingyu smirked, pulling out his phone. “Fine, princess—what’s your order? I’ll get it delivered.”

“Everything,” she declared, arms flailing. “Ramyeon, fried chicken, tteokbokki, ice cream—chocolate, not vanilla, disgusting—gummies, chips—spicy chips, not the lame ones—and soda! Lots of soda!”

“That’s a feast,” Woozi said, raising an eyebrow but smiling. “You’re back to bossing us around already?”

“Damn right,” she sniffed, wiping her nose with a pout. “I’m sad and hungry—you messed up, so you fix it!”

“Okay, okay!” Hoshi laughed, throwing his hands up. “Mingyu, order it—our maknae’s gonna riot if we don’t!”

“On it,” Mingyu said, tapping away. “But if you eat all that, you’re not fitting through the door tomorrow.”

“Then carry me!” she shot back, sticking her tongue out. “You’re tall—use it!”

The room erupted in laughter, the tension melting as her tantrum—dramatic, pouty, pure Y/N—filled the space. Seungcheol grinned, pulling her into a side hug. “There’s our girl—whiny and all.”

“Don’t call me whiny!” she protested, shoving him but snuggling closer. “I’m justified! You starved me!”

“We didn’t starve you,” Jeonghan teased, poking her cheek. “You starved yourself—big difference.”

“Semantics!” she huffed, swatting him again. “You’re all terrible—I should’ve known you’d forget food!”

“We’ll never forget again,” Seungkwan vowed, mock-serious, hand over his heart. “Next time, we’ll bring a buffet!”

“You better!” she grumbled, but a small giggle slipped out, her pout softening. “I’m still mad, though.”

“Mad and cute,” Hoshi said, pinching her cheek ‘til she yelped. “Welcome back, Y/N-ah.”

“Stop it!” she whined, flailing at him, but her smile broke through, bright and real. She looked around—13 goofy, worried, loving faces—and her stomach growled again, loud enough to make them laugh harder.

“Food’s on the way,” Mingyu announced, pocketing his phone. “Fifteen minutes—don’t die ‘til then.”

“I might!” she groaned, flopping onto the floor, arms spread. “Hurry it up, oppa—I’m fading!”

“You’re so dramatic,” Seungcheol chuckled, nudging her with his foot. “But we love it—don’t ever change.”

“Never,” she mumbled, grinning up at him, her old self peeking out, loud and unfiltered. The room buzzed with their banter, sweet and silly, the night turning warm again—food or not, she was home.

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

The food had long been devoured at Y/N’s apartment—ramyeon bowls empty, chicken bones scattered, tteokbokki sauce staining the table, and a half-melted tub of chocolate ice cream abandoned after Y/N’s dramatic brain freeze wail. The boys sprawled across her vibrant living room, a battlefield of wrappers and laughter—Hoshi swiping her gummies, Mingyu tipping soda on Seungkwan, who shrieked like a banshee. Y/N was back to her old self—pouty, loud, thumping her feet when DK teased her—but the shadow of hate lingered in their minds, a fight unfinished.

By midnight, they’d cleaned out the snacks, and Y/N dozed off mid-rant about Hoshi’s chopstick fumbles, her head drooping onto Seungcheol’s shoulder. The boys traded looks, the quiet settling heavy. “She’s okay here,” Joshua whispered, smiling softly. “But out there? It’s still a war.”

“She thinks she’s our weak link,” Woozi said, voice low, guilt sharp. “We can’t let that stick.”

Seungcheol nodded, jaw tight. “We shut it down—tonight. All 13 of us.”

“Weverse,” Jeonghan said, pulling out his phone. “Blast the haters—show them she’s ours.”

“With pics!” Hoshi grinned, eyes glinting. “She was a disaster crying—perfect ammo.”

“She’ll murder us,” Mingyu laughed, scrolling his gallery. “Got one—puffy eyes, snot central.”

“Gold,” Seungkwan snickered, leaning in. “She’ll hate it, but it’s peak Y/N.”

They huddled, phones glowing, drafting as Y/N snored softly, oblivious. Seungcheol kicked it off, typing with resolve: “To anyone hating on our Y/N—stop now. She’s our maknae, our sunshine, and you don’t get to tear her down for being her.”

Jeonghan smirked, adding: “She laughs loud, clings hard, cries messy—that’s Y/N, and we love it all. You’ve got no right to judge.”

Hoshi cackled, typing fast: “Chaos queen—keeps us alive with her madness. Hate her? You’re blind—check this!” He attached a photo—Y/N mid-sob, eyes swollen, mouth gaping, tissues jammed up her nose.

“She’ll kill you,” Dino wheezed, laughing. “I’ve got her pouting over food!” He added it—Y/N stomping, cheeks puffed, glaring teary-eyed.

Mingyu grinned, typing: “Weak spot? Nah—she’s our strength. Keeps us laughing when we’re dead. Back off.” His pic—Y/N flailing at Hoshi, mid-tantrum, hair wild.

Seungkwan smirked: “Not fake, not a flirt—just Y/N. Twist it, that’s your problem. We’ll fight for her—always.” His shot—Y/N sprawled, “dying” from hunger, tongue lolling.

Woozi kept it sharp: “She’s not leaving—ever. She’s SEVENTEEN. Deal with it.” His pic—Y/N mid-rant, pointing fiercely, face red.

Joshua softened it: “She’s our light—don’t dim her with hate. We love her loud, goofy chaos—always.” His shot—Y/N giggling, ice cream on her cheek, hugging him.

Minghao stepped in, calm but firm, typing: “She’s real—raw, unfiltered. That’s her power. You don’t get to break it.” His photo—Y/N mid-laugh, sprawled on the couch, soda can tipping in her hand.

Jun grinned, adding: “She’s our wild card—makes every day fun. Hate’s got no place here!” His pic—Y/N fake-wrestling him for the last gummy, her grin huge.

Wonwoo’s voice was quiet, steady: “She’s our spark—don’t snuff it out. We need her, just like this.” His shot—Y/N napping earlier, curled against Seungcheol, a tissue dangling from her fist, peaceful but messy.

Vernon typed coolly: “She’s real—hate’s fake. Let her shine.” His pic—Y/N mid-chip-steal, smirking at Mingyu.

DK laughed, adding: “Her laugh’s our anthem—don’t mute it!” His shot—Y/N fake-sobbing over spilled soda, theatrical as ever.

Dino finished the lineup: “She’s my twin maknae—hands off! We’re 13 plus 1—complete.” His pic—Y/N dangling gummies from her mouth, grinning like a gremlin.

Seungcheol capped it, fierce: “She’s ours—13 of us say so. Hate her, you hate us. Stop—now.” His photo—Y/N asleep now, puffy-faced but calm, nestled against him.

“Post it,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “All 13—complete.”

They hit send in unison, 13 Weverse accounts flaring to life, a goofy, fierce fortress of love. Comments flooded—Carats roaring support, haters reeling—but they ignored it, watching Y/N twitch in her sleep, mumbling something about “ramyeon.”

“She’s gonna lose it over those pics,” Hoshi whispered, stifling a laugh.

“Let her,” Mingyu said, smirking. “She’ll yell, but she’ll feel it.”

“Feel what?” Seungkwan asked, grinning.

“That she’s ours,” Seungcheol said, brushing her hair back. “Exactly how she is.”

“Even when she’s a snotty mess?” Jun teased, nodding at Hoshi’s photo.

“Especially then,” Wonwoo said, a rare smile tugging his lips.

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

Overnight, SEVENTEEN’s Weverse post exploded, rocketing to the top of every trending list. The 13 boys’ unified defense of Y/N—complete with her snotty, teary, tantrum-filled photos—lit up the internet. Carats went wild, flooding comments with laughter and love: “Hoshi posting her with tissues up her nose—ICONIC!” “Mingyu’s ‘weak spot? nah’ with her flailing—kings defending their queen!” “This is a real group—13 plus 1, no fakes here!” They booed the haters mercilessly—“Cry more, antis—SEVENTEEN said NOPE!”—and turned the goofy pics into memes, Y/N’s wails and pouts plastered everywhere with captions like “When your members love you but roast you too.” The fandom reveled in it—real, raw, unfiltered Seventeen shining through.

By dawn, it was headline news—“SEVENTEEN Slams Haters in Viral Weverse Post, Defends Maknae Y/N With Hilarious Photos”—every article featuring the boys’ words alongside shots of her mid-cry, mid-tantrum, mid-“dying” from hunger. The tide flipped fast. Netizens who’d bashed her now backpedaled, drowned out by a wave of support. Videos surfaced—Y/N cackling with Mingyu over a spilled drink, pranking Woozi with a water gun, hugging Jeonghan so hard he toppled—proof of her light, her chaos, her heart. Posts multiplied: “She’s not a pick-me—she’s their sunshine,” “This is why SEVENTEEN’s untouchable—real family.” The narrative shifted—her laugh, her wildness, her tears celebrated, not cursed.

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

Morning broke at Y/N’s apartment, the boys crashed across her living room—Seungcheol on the couch, Hoshi sprawled on the rug, Mingyu half-off a chair, the rest a tangle of limbs and snores. They’d stayed, too tired to leave after their midnight mission, Y/N tucked into her bed after nodding off mid-ice-cream rant. Then—

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” Her scream shattered the peace, piercing enough to rattle the walls. The boys jolted awake, groaning, blinking as Y/N stormed in, phone in hand, eyes blazing.

“Y/N-ah, what—” Seungcheol started, rubbing his eyes, but she cut him off, waving her phone like a weapon.

“YOU POSTED THESE?!” she shrieked, scrolling through Weverse, her voice hitting operatic heights. “My crying face?! Snot everywhere?! Tissues up my nose?! HOSHI-OPPA, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Hoshi cackled, sitting up. “It’s cute! Look—Carats love it!”

“CUTE?!” she bellowed, stomping her foot. “I look like a gremlin! And you—all of you—put it EVERYWHERE! HEADLINES, OPPA! ‘SEVENTEEN DEFENDS Y/N’—WITH THIS?!?!” She shoved the screen at them—a news article with her wailing, captioned “Maknae’s Tears Win Hearts.”

Mingyu smirked, stretching. “Worked, didn’t it? Haters are gone—fans are obsessed.”

“OBSESSED WITH MY UGLY FACE!” she wailed, flopping onto the couch, dramatic as ever. “I’m complaining all day—you’re all dead to me!”

“Aw, Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan teased, grinning. “You’re alive again—yelling means you’re back.”

“Back to haunt you!” she snapped, pointing at him. “You let them post me looking like a drowned rat!”

“It’s not that bad,” Joshua said, laughing. “You’re adorable—snot and all.”

“ADORABLE?!” she screeched, clutching her head. “I’m a disaster! And now the world thinks it’s AI—I mean, it’s not me, right? That’s not my face!”

“Totally you,” Seungkwan snickered, dodging her swat. “Carats are calling it ‘peak maknae energy.’”

“I hate you all!” she groaned, burying her face in a pillow, muffled. “Why didn’t you use pretty pics? I’m cute sometimes!”

“You’re always cute,” Dino said, patting her back. “Even crying.”

“LIES!” she shouted, popping up, pout in full force. “I’m fixing this—right now!” She grabbed her phone, furiously tapping, muttering, “Stupid oppas—stupid headlines—AI my foot…”

She stormed to her room, slamming the door, and the boys erupted in laughter. “She’s posting,” Woozi said, smirking. “Bet it’s a revenge glow-up.”

Minutes later, her Weverse pinged—Y/N’s post: “Since my members think THESE are okay [screenshots of their pics], here’s the REAL me. News people—USE THESE. That crying mess? AI, not me. I’m pretty, see?!” Attached were her best shots—smiling with coffee, winking in stage makeup, laughing in sunlight—zero snot, all shine.

The boys crowded Seungcheol’s phone, howling. “She’s savage!” Hoshi said, wiping tears. “AI—not her!”

“She’s delusional,” Mingyu laughed. “Those crying pics are 100% her—I took half of ‘em!”

“She’s back-back,” Jun grinned, scrolling Carat replies—“Y/N said NO to the snot pics!” “Queen reclaiming her throne!”

Seungcheol chuckled, leaning back. “Haters are toast, she’s yelling—she’s good.”

“She’ll still kill us,” Minghao said, smirking. “But it’s worth it.”

“Totally,” Wonwoo added, rare grin flashing. “She’s our mess—pretty or not.”

Y/N burst out, still pouting. “You’re all on dish duty for this! And I want more chicken—payback!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seungcheol saluted, grinning as they groaned. The room buzzed—her tantrum, their laughter, the world flipping to her side. The headlines could keep the tears; she’d claimed her shine, and her 13 members had her back—goofy pics and all.

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

an: hello again! I’m trying my best to mention all the members, but I keep losing track—oops! I’m also trying my best to capture their personalities in each dialogue HAHAHAHA! Thank you so much for reading—I hope you enjoy it!🫶🏻

[girliism]

punk!patrick x reader

-

the minute you and your friend walk up to the house it’s quite obvious there’s a party going on. from the people dry humping on the grass outside to the music pouring out the house. you wondered how the cops hadn’t been called yet.

inside smelt like weed, sweat and other bodily fluids. right off the bat you realize these aren’t the kinda people you’re used to partying with. they were all dressed in heavy black clothes and makeup with jewelry covering their faces.

you stuck out like sore thumb in your mini jean skirt and pink top.

“i can’t believe you talked me into this.” you were currently being squished between bodies of people in someones stuffy basement. “it’s gonna be totally worth it ok, the guys in this band are hot.” your friend yelled back in your ear. that’s honestly the real reason you even joined her.

the instant screams that erupted when five guys walked onto the makeshift stage cut you off from responding to her. and the second your eyes caught the drummer you were hooked.

he had mini spikes in his black hair, piercings studded out of his eyebrow, ears and lip. loud shitty punk rock music blared in your ears, but you were completely focused on the unnamed drummer who was twisting his drumsticks between his fingers before beating them down. banging his head in time to the beat. you eventually found yourself jumping and screaming along with everyone else.

by the time their set came to an end your throat was sore and you could feel sweat bedding on your hairline.

“thanks for that energy you guys we got another band coming up soon so either stick around or don’t.” and you didn’t. the second you saw the drummer getting up, making his way through the crowd and you perked up. “hey. i’m gonna go get a drink.” you absentmindedly patted your friends shoulder, following after the black haired boy.

-

you caught up with him in the kitchen. he was chugging back whatever was in his cup before pouring some more. you tried not to get distracted by his wife beater that seemed a size too small from the way the hemline sat cropped showing off his happy trail.

“your guys set was really good.”

the guy in front of you took one look up and down at you before scoffing into his cup. “really?” you hummed, nodding your head, and pouring yourself a drink. “i loved all the um— anti conformist lyrics.” he shook his head and laughed. “right right. listen don’t take offense but are you sure you’re at the right party?” he was totally right you were at the wrong party, but that didn’t mean he could call you on it.”

it was your turn to scoff. “and why wouldn’t i be right party?” he just shrugged. “doesn’t really seem like your speed.” “and how do you know what my speed is?” you cocked your head to the side. “didn’t your mother ever tell you to not judge based on the cover, huh?” he threw up his hands in defense. “you’re right, i’m sorry. thank you for enjoying the show.”

“you’re welcome.”

there was silence before he spoke again. “i’m patrick by the way.” you repeated his name, testing how it felt in your mouth then introducing yourself.

you watched him out the side of your eye chew on the rim of his solo cup. “so.” you cleared your throat. “do you guys always play basements?” the drummer, you now know as patrick shook his head. “sometimes we play dive bars and other parties. it’s just this is our bassist brothers house so lets he us play whenever.” you nodded, “that’s sweet”

“he’s an asshole.” you nearly choked on your drink at the abrupt answer. “but he lets us use his garage for practice so i guess he’s ok.”

it was patrick’s turn to ask you a question. “you play any instruments.” you tilted your head up thinking. patrick’s eyes immediately hone in on your neck thinking about how good it’d look decorated in the marks he wanted to leave behind. “piano in the fifth grade.” you reveal.

“cute.”

suddenly patrick was close to you. “come with me.” he abandons his drink to grab your wrist pulling you with him.

-

you got a semi bad feeling when you guys reached the destination. it was dark but you could tell it was also spacious. you could only hope your weren’t about to get murdered by a guy in eyeliner.

“tada.”

the lights came on and you let out a breath. it was just a garage.

“and why are we in here?” you turned around to look at him, your eyes catching his fingers moving to twist the lock.

patrick walked around you to the drumset that sat near a wall. “was just a little loud in there.” he took a seat on the stool in front of the drums. “how long have you been playing.” you asked, walking you fingers crossed that gold cymbals that’s dinged together softly. “since i was ten.”

“a real professional, huh.”

patrick laughed holding out the drumsticks in your direction. “wanna try?” you nodded

you sat in his lap with his big hands covering your as he guided them to drum a simple beat. “so, gonna tell me why you’re really here.” his voice was deep in your ear. “just wanted to see who was playing tonight.” you say sticking to your lie.

“bullshit.”

his hands leave yours and rest on your bare thighs. “come on just tell me. i know you don’t listen to this shit.” he referenced to the music that you could hear faintly. “fine, my friend is more into this stuff i only came because the band was supposedly hot.” you shrugged.

you felt the rumble of his laugh on your back and his fingers sliding up your thighs.

“and are they? hot, i mean.” patrick’s breath was hot against the back of your neck, his lips ghosting your skin. “mmm, the drummers pretty alright.” you tease. turning around to face him. “that right.” you nodded, making the first move to press your lips against his.

the kiss escalated quickly, you tugging on his bottom lip piercing with your teeth earning a groan from him. he slide his hand down the front of your skirt. “o-oh my god.” patrick easily slipped his middle finger into your wet heat. “you’re so wet.” he muttered against the skin of your neck that he was sucking marks into. “a-another.” you moaned and patrick’s pushed his ring finger in and pumped them both in and out at a fast pace, his palm hitting against your clit.

you abandoned the drumsticks on the floor grabbing on to patrick’s wrist. “oh fuck! right there.” your knee jerked up hitting the drum set causing the cymbals to bang together drowning out the obscene squelching noises, when patrick’s finger tips find your g spot.

“m’close.” you whine, throwing your head back on to his shoulder. “gonna cum all over my fingers,huh? ” he said in your ear. pressing kisses on your cheeks and jaw. you could only nod, your whimpering getting louder and breathing getting heavier. all it took was patrick’s thumb flicking at your clit to send you over.

“oh my god, u-uh!”

patrick let you ride out your high, grinding your hips down on his fingers. you slumped back into him, catching your breath. patrick pulled his hand and out you pants and turned your face towards him. you ignored the cringey feeling of your wet fingers against your cheek. he fitted his tongue into your mouth in a messy make out.

“fuck.” patrick pushing you to stand up before dragging you by your belt loop to the wall that was behind you. “need to be inside you.” he rushed out, pulling you in for another kiss that tasted like weed and fireball. “this wanted you wanted all along right? to get fucked.” he hiked up your skirt to your waist, pulling your panties out and disregarding them on the floor.

he unzipped his pants enough to pull his cock out. “wanted to come to the show and play groupie?” he traced the tip of his cock on your already sensitive cunt. “you can be my little groupie, follow me around.”

“yeah-yes!” you threw your head back hitting the wall when patrick pushed his full length into you. patrick held your legs around his waist, squeezing the fat of your ass between his calloused palms in a bruising grip.

“god, you’re tight.” patrick groaned, thrusting his hips up.

you didn’t know how long you’d last, your inner walls still sensitive and throbbing. the feeling of patrick’s cock dragging against them had your moans bouncing off the walls of the garage. “f-feels so good.”

patrick moaned, completely taken by the site of his dick disappearing in and out of your cunt, coming back wetter each time. “this perfect pussy.”

your guys moans mingled together in a mix of low and high pitched grunts and groans.

your nails embedded themselves in patrick’s shoulders. “gonna cum again.” you whined and patrick sped up. his cock head drilling into that soft spot inside you. patrick dropped his head into the crook of your neck grunting into it. “shit, do it. wanna feel you cum on around me.”

you took hold of patrick’s dark locks messing up his gelled spike. your walls got tighter around him. your head hitting the back of the wall, and a moan getting stuck in throat in the midst of your orgasm.

“f-fuck.”

patrick pulled out still hard and on the verge of cumming, jerking himself off in four hasty strokes before he released on your inner thighs and the wall.

“holy fuck.” patrick slotted his lips against your in a wet kiss.

you both silently got back dressed. you tugging your skirt back in place and patrick stuffing his dick back in his pants.

“here.” patrick picked a sharpie that was lying around, and grabbed hold of your arm. “my number.” he scribbled it in messy writing. “just in case you want these back.” he grabbed your lost underwear off the floor holding them up before tucking them into his back pocket. leaving you in the garage to collect yourself

-

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Fault Lines Ch. 2

request: wanted to know if you could write something where the reader is a ex-winter solider (just like bucky, but maybe she doesn't lose her arm) and how she struggles to accept Joaquin. An overall angst to fluff.

pairing: joaquin torres x ex-super soldier!f!reader

contents: canon typical violence, illusions to abuse and torture, ptsd and other mental illness, enemies to lovers, angst

wc: 1,383

an: this series is based off of this request here! this is definitely a slow burn/fluff if you squint type beat so just bear with me <3

fault lines masterlist

The safe house is quiet, save for the low hum of the overhead light and the occasional rustle of movement from Joaquin as he leans against the wall opposite of you. He knows better than to box you in—that’d only make you more restless than you already are.

Post-meal and shower, you sit on his cot, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere past him like you’re already planning your exit. The space smells of antiseptic and metal despite the warm paint and comforting art. Someone had tried to make this as home-y as they could and failed.  

He doesn’t doubt that you are.  And you are. You’re on edge, always hypervigilant for the worst. That the two men in front of you that promise to stand on decency and honor are liars just like everyone else you’ve ever encountered. 

There’s only one door and a few windows, but you had immediately noticed the door under the rug in the bathroom. Its doable.

Sam’s outside, making calls, searching for loopholes to clean up the mess you’ve already made. That leaves Joaquin with what he does best—talking. But tonight, that skill is failing him.

Something about you is making the words sticky in his throat, unable to flow as usual. He doesn’t know what to say to you to make you understand, to make you change. Though he’s not really sure that’s his goal given what you’ve suffered.

“You look like you wanna be anywhere but here,” he observes, arms mirroring yours.

“What a shocking observation, baby bird,” you mutter, voice steeped in sarcasm.

Joaquin exhales through his nose, tilting his head. “Ok, ouch. But let’s be real—you could’ve run already. Hell, you could’ve fought harder. So why are you still here?”

Your fingers curl in your lap, like the truth will slink into your hands if you don’t force it out; it isn’t something you're ready to touch. You flex them once before stilling. “Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I trust you,” you say eventually, voice quieter, more measured.

“Fair.” Joaquin watches you, gaze steady. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you unless he has too– he chalks it up to your dangerous capabilities and nothing more. “No one’s asking you to, querida. But you want something. You can tell me what that is, I won’t use it against you.”

Something stirs at his pet name, something you thought was dead and rotted. Its easy to shove it back down in the wake of what you see is a lie. He would use it against you, that’s what everyone does. If he didn’t then Sam would. You know the game. 

You let out a breath, eyes meeting his. “You’re after Hydra and so am I. But I don’t trust that you’ll actually do what needs to be done. In fact, I know you won’t.”

Joaquin frowns. He knows what you mean but asks anyway, “And what’s that?”

“You tell me,” you challenge. “You really think you’re gonna dismantle them by playing by the rules? By arresting a few low-level pricks and calling it a day? Hydra isn’t just an organization—it’s a disease. One that’s smart enough to outmaneuver every cure. You cut off a limb, and another grows back.” Your voice lowers, darkens. “I go for the heart.”

Joaquin studies you. The shadowy certainty in your tone. The way your hands have curled into fists, nails pinching into your skin before you even realize it. He should be alarmed, maybe even afraid of you and what you can do with those hands. But mostly? He just feels tired for you and all the baggage you have to carry. He wishes there were more he could do more for you, but he knows the oath he’s taken. His values, his morals—they won’t be compromised.

“I get it,” he says, voice softer now. “You think we’re a waste of time. That we’re too soft.”

“You are,” you say, like it’s obvious and with no remorse. “Your Captain? He’s trying to lead a world that doesn’t even know what to do with itself. One that hardly wants him. He’s gotta play politics. Me? I don’t have to play anything. I owe nothing to no one but myself.”

Joaquin shakes his head. “That’s not a life. That’s a war you never get to leave. That darkness won’t let you go.”

Your jaw tightens, and you look away. You don’t deny it.

For the first time since bringing you in, Joaquin feels like he has something solid to work with. You know that your past is controlling you but you won’t let it go. With their help, you could finally be free. He lets you sit with his words, grabbing a water from the mini-fridge before settling across from you on Sam’s bunk.

Silently, he offers it. Begrudgingly, you take it, careful not to touch him.

“Look, I know what it’s like to be made into something you didn’t ask for,” he says. “To be trained to survive, not to live. And I know that once you start thinking like that, it’s almost impossible to stop.”

Your fingers tighten around the bottle, the plastic nearly giving out under the pressure. The sound brings you back to the present and you loosen your grip letting the bottle fall to the ground. Joaquin says nothing, letting you be.  When your eyes meet again, he can see that you recognize that. That you believe him when he says that he understands. You let it fade away as quickly as it appeared.

Joaquin presses forward anyway. “You don’t trust us? Fine. But what if we can help? What if we can end this without you burning yourself out trying to do it alone?”

You shake your head. “God, baby bird, you don’t fucking get it.”

“Then make me fucking get it,” Joaquin challenges, matching your energy. He hopes that in doing so you'll level with him.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The space between you is heavy with something unspoken, pressing down on your chest. Your breath is too sharp, and his is too shallow, like being stuck in each other's gaze has sucked all the air out of the room before either of you could even think. You exhale sharply, pulling back, re-centering yourself just as another presence fills the doorway.

"There's a name," you mutter, almost reluctant. "One of the last remaining heads of Hydra. He’s been running a black ops division off-grid. And if you think what was done to your precious boy was bad, what they’re doing is worse."

Joaquin barely has time to process before your gaze flicks past him, landing on Sam, now standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

The two men exchange a look. “How do we know you’re not leading us into a trap?” Sam asks.

You scoff. “I’m not like them and you thinking I would walk you into a trap is like them. If you don’t believe me, I can happily do this on my own. And I wouldn’t have either of you slowing me down.”

Sam meets Joaquin’s gaze again; its pleading, laced with the idea of giving you a chance. A long beat of silent communication passes between them.

Sam rolls his eyes, exhaling reluctantly. He knows what its like to be an advocate, the one who’s seeing more than others. He’ll let Joaquin take his chance on you. “You’re lucky he likes you,” he mutters, jerking his chin toward Joaquin before turning back toward the door. “We’re wheels up in an hour. Try not to make me regret this.”

Joaquin looks back at you, and you could swear that you see some warmth in his cheeks. “That makes two of us.” He barely catches it—the slight quirk at the corner of your mouth. It’s smug, not quite a smirk, but it’s something. An attempt at humor. He softens again, seeing the effects of what Hydra put you through.

What had they done to you where you can’t even smile? Laugh? See yourself as more than just their pawn? The thought makes him sad, yes, but it also makes him angry. You deserve better than that.

“Three of us.” You shake your head, pushing to your feet. You’re tired of being cooped up. “Guess we’ll see.”

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> ch. 3

[bluebutterflytattooed]

Loser Lesbian Ellie Williams x Mean Girl Reader

CHAPTER SIX

The sight of the text makes you stop breathing. Not really, but that’s what it feels like. Surely that it’s just because Ellie texted you and you weren’t expecting it. Not because you’ve been thinking about seeing her again all the time and now you finally are getting your chance, and it’s 7 PM on a Saturday. What would the two of you even do? You have almost nothing in common. Correction, you have absolutely nothing in common at all. You and Ellie are like night and day, winter and summer, chocolate and vanilla, cats and dogs.

However, opposites do attract. Like magnets. There’s an undeniable pull between you two, whether that’s a pull of hatred, attraction, or just platonic friendship. You don’t know which one you want it to be. On one hand, you’ve tormented and teased her for years. On the other hand, she is unfortunately so attractive with her freckles and strong arms and biceps. But she probably is not at all interested in you, and you can’t possibly be interested in Ellie Williams, which means friendship is the only other outcome of these recent constant thoughts of the girl.

But…Hearts don’t speed up at the idea of hanging out with their friend, much less the nerd you make fun of. Breath doesn't get stuck in lungs because of friendship, and cheeks don’t get pink because of friendships.

You have to come to terms with it, you know you do.

There’s a very distinct possibility that you have feelings for Ellie Williams.

You don’t really know how this has happened. There haven’t been any signs of it before, other than your very deep obsession with her that you’ve had for years. But that wasn’t an obsession of attraction, it was one of distaste for her. She’s always been so fucking nerdy and so focused on her weird interests, someone that never in a million years would you be attracted to. Sure, you’ve noticed everything about her. Her stupid t-shirts, her favorite one being a Tears for Fears shirt (not that you have it memorized or anything), the dumb waistbands of her boxers that peek above her pants (again, not that you pay attention), the way sunlight or tears make her blue eyes extra shiny, sometimes looking greenish in direct light, or the way she nibbles on her bottom lip and runs her tongue over her piercing when she’s nervous. But those are all things you’ve made fun of in the past, not things that have made her appear… beautiful.

But, you still find your thumbs flying over your keyboard, your heart beating almost painfully fast, as you send a reply to her text:

You: I’ll be there in an hour tops

Well fuck. Now you have to go.

You scramble to take a shower, wash away the week of pilates and hanging out with your junkie mom. Your cherry almond conditioner and vanilla body wash filled shower is followed by a quick blow dry and clean-looking minimal makeup, pulling it all together with Brandy Melville sweatpants and a dark blue t-shirt that slouches off your shoulders. You’re praying that it looks as if you didn’t make an effort, but it’s cute nonetheless.

What does Ellie think of you? Why could she ever want you at her house after years of torture? These are the thoughts that plague your mind as you ride your bike to her house, your legs pumping so fast that they’ll be sore after this. You’ve tied your hair back with a claw clip, a gold one decorated with a butterfly that you got from Target, so that the wind doesn’t tangle your hair and you won’t end up at Ellie’s with ugly hair. Your silky hair is one of your personal favorite features, and you put time and money into maintaining it. The wind will not mess that up. Ellie’s ranch is a twenty minute bike ride from the trailer park, which gives you plenty of time to chew on the inside of your cheeks and stress out from the overwhelming confusion of why Ellie wants you to come over. She has no reason to, unless her friends are there and they’re going to work on the film. Filming sounds good, it sounds less scary than sitting next to Ellie wondering what the hell there is for the two of you to talk about.

Maybe we won’t talk at all, you find yourself thinking. Maybe there will be more hands and lips involved than words-

You scold yourself for thinking something like that; of course that won’t happen. You’ve been much too cruel to the poor girl for her to want anything like that to happen between the two of you.

The long, gravel driveway of the ranch appears ahead of you, and you hop off your bicycle to avoid a bumpy ride full of pebbles flying up and hitting you in the face. A dog runs up to you, a golden retriever full of bouncy energy, and follows you along the rest of the path. You lean down to pet his head a few times, and crouch down with him for at least a couple of minutes once you get to the house in order to avoid going inside. Why would you agree to come here if you’re too scared to go in and see Ellie? Maybe you shouldn’t knock on the door at all, just turn around and go back home, pretend like you got caught up with something-

But you don’t have to knock at all. Ellie opens the front door, staring at you as you play with her dog, a bright smile across your face. She’s never seen you smile like that before. Maybe because whenever you see her, your mouth is twisted into a scowl.

“Y/N,” her voice rings out from the porch, and you jerk your head in the direction of her low, smooth tone, looking up at her. “I, uh, I see you met muffin.” She says, flushing as she makes eye contact with you.

The smile stretches across your face again. “Muffin?” You sound like you’re teasing, but in a friendly way.

“Um!” Ellie squeaks “Yep! His full name is Blueberry Muffin, cause my dad makes them and- I don’t know why I’m telling you this, s’ so dumb.” Her face just gets redder and redder, which you find entertaining. And somewhat endearing. That’s what’s stupid here, the way you find her blushing at her own word vomit endearing.

“No, I like it. It’s a cute name,” You shrug, giving Muffin another pat on the head, standing up and pretending as if you weren’t just so anxious about seeing Ellie that your head was swimming. She lets you through the threshold and shuts the door behind you. Today, she’s wearing Minecraft socks, which makes you laugh under your breath. ”Should I take my shoes off?” You ask her.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” She says, but you take them off anyway.

“So why’d you ask me to come over, Ellie?” You ask her, raising an eyebrow. She seethes with jealousy; she can’t raise a single eyebrow. She can only raise both at the same time.

“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to do some scenes for the film? Cause we need to start getting those, and I’m pretty good with cameras and stuff. And I thought you might be nervous filming around Dina and Riley, so they’re not here. It’s just us. And my dad’s out of town too,” She says, all the words coming out in a rush. So you’re alone with Ellie. In her house. At almost 8:00 pm.

You swallow, knowing that you must look nervous now. “I… yeah, that sounds good. How should we start?”

She cocks her head to the side, thinking, as you follow her to her bedroom for the second time in your life. “We could do some shots out in the field. Like it’s the beginning of the apocalypse, and you’re just figuring out, like, how to navigate the world. And also, you probably can’t wear those clothes… they’re not accurate to what you’d be wearing in an apocalypse.” The passion she feels about this topic is evident in her voice, which you find…

“Cute,” You meant to only think the words, but they fall from your lips anyways. You slap a hand over your mouth.

“Hm?” Ellie didn’t hear you completely.

“Nothing! Just, what should I wear then? I didn’t bring other clothes,” You say quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when you realize that she didn’t hear what you said.

“Y-you can wear mine!” She stutters miserably throughout the short sentence, her face flushing again, even darker this time. She scratches the back of neck, below her bun that she always has tied up. “I have some that aren’t too ugly, but you’d look good in, um, in everything. So.” Her face is burning red and her tongue flicks out to play with her lip piercing, the whole movement followed by your eyes.

“Thanks,” You murmur. “Show me the clothes so we can get this filming over with.” You don’t really want to be on camera and pretend to be another person that you’re not, but Ellie seems so eager and excited, so of course you’ll do it.

How far you’ve fallen from being someone who would barely look at her to a girl gazing at her lip piercing as you enter her bedroom.

She digs through her extremely messy dresser. The clutter doesn’t surprise you, it suddenly makes sense why all her clothes are wrinkled. Apparently, the girl doesn’t know how to fold. Your lips curl up into a smile, which Ellie notices as she turns back around, the blush returning to her face. At this point, the pink hue on her skin is a permanent addition to her freckled cheeks. She sticks her hands out, holding a pile of clothes.

“There’s a t-shirt, and a hoodie, and, um, some jeans,” She says, staring at the floor. “I’ll leave the room while you change.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, taking the wrinkled pile and waiting for her to leave the room before you start stripping off your own clothing, shivering as the cold air of Ellie’s bedroom hits your skin. The farm house is old, and lacking in a heating system. Ellie just sleeps with a lot of blankets (most of them patterned with sharks or horses or dinosaurs) to make up for the lack of heat.

Ellie, standing outside her bedroom door with her heart beating a mile a minute, tries her absolute hardest to resist her very strong urge to peek through her door, which is slightly cracked open. Oh, she tries to resist what her little one-track lesbian brain tells her to do, repeatedly telling that urge that it’s wrong to want to do that, but… the lesbian brain wins. She moves to the side a bit, peering through the gap between the door and its frame. She watches, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly open, practically drooling, as she sees you slip your shirt over your head, dropping your pants to the floor, to reveal a matching pink bra-and-panty set, purchased from Victoria’s Secret. Almost immediately, she can feel her boxers start to get sticky. Fuck. Her breathing becomes shallow as you dress yourself in her clothes. You are in her bedroom, putting her clothes on, and it's the most attractive thing Ellie has ever seen. She almost pouts when you’re done, once all your skin has been covered up, but she quickly recovers at the sight of you in her clothes.

“Ellie, I’m done.” You call to her, looking down at the clothes. They’re baggy on you, not overly baggy, and wrinkled like the rest of her clothing. Ellie comes into the room, staring at you. “We can film now.” You say calmly, as if nerves aren’t sprinting through your system.

“C-cool,” She stutters, slack jawed. “I’ve got the, uh, the camera set up. In the field. So, you can follow me out there.” Her hands, her whole body, is shaking. Her Hot Wheels boxers are practically soaked through to her torn black jeans, and she thinks she might be salivating.

The filing goes well. You look at the camera with a face filled with emotion, confliction, and fear. It’s perfect. Ellie knew you’d be perfect for this film. She stares at you the entire time, the camera aimed at you almost an afterthought. The movie will be good, yeah, but seeing you act like this right before her own eyes? It’s a dream. She’s in awe the whole time. Who knew you could act? You bully every theater kid you come across, so this passionate display of emotion from you, all done for the camera, is a shock to her. You get the whole scene done in one take.

“That was perfect,” Ellie gasps, her throat dry. “You’re really talented.” She gazes at you with huge eyes. In the sunset, you can see that her seemingly blue eyes are a pale greenish hue, a little bit of blue still floating around in them.

“Thanks Els,” You smile at her softly. Her breath hitches at the nickname. “Wanna watch a movie?” You propose. You don’t want to go home yet, face your mother and continue tending to her every want and need. You’d rather stay here with the girl you used to torment.

Ellie’s eyes widen as she folds up the camera stand and tucks it under her hoodie-clad arm. “U-uh yeah, we can do that!” Her voice pitches up into a squeak. It always seems to do that around you. “I’ve got a good collection. Starwars, and, ummm, How To Train Your Dragon… such a good movie…” She trails off, thinking. “But I’m A Cheerleader is such a classic, it’s about lesbians and uh- well, you don’t really care about that but.” She decides to stop talking as her face turns into a brilliant red tomato.

You cock your head to the side as you stroll into the house next to her. “We could watch that,” She nods quickly at your words. “Do you have a girlfriend?” The question slips from your glossed lips without it even being filtered through your mind. God damn it, you scream at yourself.

“What?” She yelps. “No! No no no, I don’t. I’m single. Single pringle!” Now it’s her turn to scream at her own self for saying something that even made her cringe. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” She apologizes, absolutely horrified with herself.

You laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Settling onto Ellie’s couch is possibly one of the most awkward moments of your life. It’s a nice leather one, pillows and blankets draped over it. You’re sitting straight up, like a rod, Ellie taking on the exact same stance at your side. Neither of you look at each other as she turns on the move, putting a pillow on her lap and hugging it close to her body. The room is so tense you could cut the air with a knife. You inhale and exhale deeply, the woody scent of Ellie Williams making its way into your nose. And oh my god, does she smell good. You want to bottle whatever scent that is and spray it on everything that you own, becoming surrounded by her always.

But you can’t do that. It would be gay and creepy.

You get engrossed in the movie quickly, finding yourself relating to Megan a little too much. Concealing herself, denying herself and her identity, falling for a girl she can’t have. She’s just like you. You get so engrossed that you don’t even notice Ellie’s breathing slowing as she falls asleep until she tips over, her head flopping against your shoulder. You almost jump as you realize that she’s resting on you, but that would mean waking her up.

“Shit,” You wheeze. “Oh fuck.” You inhale and exhale deeply, playing with your own fingers in your lap. Her hair is soft against the exposed skin of your shoulder, as the sleeve of the t-shirt has ridden up. Her pink lips are slightly parted, a peaceful expression painted across her freckled face.

You find yourself paying more attention to her than to the movie playing in front of you.

Before you can even prevent the words from slipping past your lips you whisper, just like a dumb middle school girl, “I think I have a crush on you.” It’s hardly a confession, it’s just a little whisper to a sleeping girl. But still, it’s more of the truth than you were supposed to let yourself say.

And then another whisper fills the room: “I have a crush on you too.”

——————————————————————————

hiiiii this chapter was SO fun. guys we had a confession! i’ve literally been freaking out because what do you mean my posts are getting 100 notes. that’s INSANE. thank you all so much 🫶🫶🫶

do we want a make out next chapter cause i can make that happen. let me know! also the Hot Wheels boxers were inspired by the Hot Wheels boxers i got my girlfriend for her birthday

i love you all so much!!!

-Blue 🦋

tag list:

@vahnilla @elliesngirl @naniiiii12 @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliesgffrfr @nymanas @yashirawr @leeidk87

[glamourscat]

Can you maybe do a Shidou x Single mom reader? Shidou moved into a new apartment building because he got kicked out of the last one for being too loud or something alike, and his nextdoor apartment neighbor is a young single mom he greets sometimes, and she ends up asking him to babysit her toddler once because no one was able to take care of it at the moment and she was late to work. In the end the kid is obsessed with him and doesn't want to leave at first, but reluctantly accepts once they promise him/her they can play again.

Idk if that's a weird request or anything, but i think it would be cute. The kid can be a girl or boy, whichever you choose.💐

WHATEVER THAT MEANS | SHIDOU RYUSEI X READER (TIME SKIP)

so, i slightly changed it around, bc i found it hard to write for a mother who left her kid w someone who she barely knew :'( i made them on friendly base, so not super close but friendly enough for the reader to trust shidou into taking care of her daughter. I hope you like the fic either way, and i'm sorry for the little adjustment!

Loud. Inadequate. Noisy. Just a few adjectives his old apartment complex neighbors would use to describe him. And it’s not like they were necessarily wrong… but can’t a guy have hobbies? What’s the big deal if he wants to shout off his balcony in the morning as stress relief? Or sunbathe naked? It’s his house, after all.

But apparently, they didn’t see it that way. And so, embarrassingly enough, he got evicted. Football season was about to come to an end, which meant more days spent indoors, especially with the scorching summer temperatures in Japan.

It’s been over seven months since he met you. And he still couldn’t quite figure you out.

The first time you two met, you threw a shoe at him. The second time, you apologized for the shoe but still got into a screaming match over who stole whose package. The third time, it was a rainy night. He was restless.TV, phone, laptop, nothing could quiet his head. His eyes drifted to the window, and before he knew it, he was grabbing his jacket and shoes, heading out for a walk.

He didn’t even realize how far he’d gone until he found himself near the striking lights of the town center. He was about to turn back when he saw you. Standing there, soaked through, outside some cheap ass restaurant. His first instinct was to tease you, but then he took in your face.

Sorrow. Embarrassment. Pain.

And he didn’t have it in him.

You turned to leave before he could even step closer.

“Wait, damn it—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was quiet but firm as he reached out, catching your wrist.

“I don’t—I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Shidou huffed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“You’re drenched. C’mon. Let’s go back.” His voice was strangely calm. Just like that he led you home.

That night, seven months ago, he learned about you. Your life. That you, at 26, the same age as him, had a three-year-old daughter. That the father was more absent than his own had ever been.

He doesn’t know exactly when the shift happened. When throwing shoes turned into spending late nights at each other’s places, talking until 1 a.m. and laughing over things that didn’t even matter. Maybe it was the vulnerability of that very first night you two talked. Or maybe it was realizing that, despite everything, you two weren’t so different. He just… expressed things more loudly.

And maybe that’s why, on his day off, he’s here. Babysitting your kid. A round, giggling toddler sitting cross legged in his lap, applying makeup to his face with the concentration of a professional artist. She’s rambling, some absurd story about nursery school that he’s pretty sure she’s making up as she goes.

God, he has no idea what he’s doing.

There’s pink sparkling eyeshadow smudged across his eyelids, uneven swipes of glitter on his cheeks and something sticky in his hair that he’s choosing to ignore.

“You look like a princess,” she announces proudly, clapping her hands together.

Shidou snorts. “Yeah? A hot one?”

The toddler tilts her head, considering. “Mmm… a silly one.” She exclaims with her hands thrown in the air as to emphasise her claim. 

He grins, flashing his teeth. “Same thing, nugget.”

As you walk through the door your eyes fix on the scene. You don’t know where to either laugh or to be worried for Shidou’s safety. Surely that many hairpins in his hair cannot be good for blood circulation, right? 

His eyes meet yours as he flashes you a stupid grin of his. He doesn’t know how it happened, how he got here. But he knows it feels good. It feels good to be wanted. And your kid, for whatever reason, is obsessed with him.

Which is a problem, when you move closer to pick her up and she immediately buries her face into his shoulder, clinging and gripping him like he’s the last cookie in the cookie jar that someone is also trying to take. 

“Nooooo,” she yells dramatically. “I wanna stay with Ryusei!”

“Kid, I’m flattered,” he says, patting her back, “but your mom will kill me if you don't go take your bath.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sweetheart, you need to bathe. And eat dinner.”

“Ryusei can do it!”

Shidou chokes on a laugh and you shoot him a glare, but your daughter isn’t paying attention, she’s too busy gripping his shirt. Kicking her feet annoyed at the injustice of it all.

It reminds him a little of himself. That fierce, stubborn kind of love. The kind that grabs on tight and refuses to let go. She’s a kid, but he can feel that she’s smart enough to understand this feeling. So he tugs her away just enough to look her in the eye, his voice quieter now.

“Hey. What if I promise to come back?”

Her lip wobbles. “You swear?”

“Cross my heart.” He does the motion across his chest, then taps her nose. “I’ll come play again. You can even make me a clown next time.”

The toddler sniffs. “Princess clown.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever the boss wants.”

She hesitates, then, slowly and reluctantly, she lets you take her into your arms. But her eyes stay locked on him, watching as if she’s trying to make sure he doesn’t disappear the second she looks away.

Shidou leans back, resting his head against the couch. And, because he knows she’s waiting, he throws her a lazy salute.

“Later, nugget.”

She sniffles again. “Bye-bye, Ryusei.”

And just like that, she’s gone, carried off into the other room.

The apartment is quieter now, the warmth of her weight still lingering on his skin. He exhales, stretching his arms over his head and catches you watching him as you pop back in the living room. 

“You didn’t have to promise,” you say, voice softer than usual.

Shidou hums. “Nah. I wanted to.”

A moment of silence goes by. 

“You’re good with her.”

He smirks. “You sound surprised.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “Just… didn’t expect it.”

Shidou shrugs, leaning his head back again. He doesn’t know how to explain it. Doesn’t know if he even needs to. It’s just that love, in all its forms, has never come easy to him. It’s always been messy. Complicated.

But this? This feels simple. So yeah. He’ll come back. He will still pretend to huff and think twice before accepting. He will still tease you restless as per usual. But he will let your daughter cover him in glitter and tell him ridiculous stories and call him silly names. Because it’s easy. Because it’s warm. Because it feels good to be like this. 

Whatever that means. 

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[angelyuji]

more yan!nolan x yan!debbie x gn!reader because i want to partake in an eiffel tower with them (me inbetween)

i wasn’t sure if i should write mark into this ngl like how old would he be, this obvi takes place before season 1, so i was like ???teen mark???baby mark??? but then i was like… this would be more interesting if i show everythinggg so lemme do that ig

tw // kidnapping, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME!!!!, noncon/dubcon, exhibitionism, shitty smut in the middle and end (sorry im still awk as hell writing smut :P)

18+!!!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!!

it took you a while to convince them you wouldn’t do anything stupid (i mean, omni-man is watching your every move, so how could you).

but once you’ve settled down, and stopped crying and screaming, complying with all of debbie and nolan’s requests, they had let you upstairs.

“good morning,” debbie places a kiss to your temple as she serves breakfast. mark babbles in his high chair, reaching out for his food and a kiss from his mom. debbie smiles and showers him with her love. you silently watch the exchange, knowing what could happen if you make a fuss in front of mark. you feel a weight in your stomach, not letting you eat. the smell of the syrup and butter almost makes you gag.

“everything alright?” you jolt as you hear nolan behind you. he places his hands on your shoulders, a reminder.

“y-yeah. everything’s… fine.” you silently start to eat as nolan moves to his wife.

“(y/n), sweetheart, can you feed mark? i need to finish up breakfast before nolan leaves.” debbie calls out from the stove. you watch nolan start to help debbie and you look towards the front door, “(y/n)?”

“…sure.” you swallow and move closer to the baby. mark lets you feed him, happily playing along with you. you stroke his hair as he finishes his food, “you’re a cutie, aren’t you?” you gently pinch his cheeks and mark lets out a loud giggle at the feeling.

“you’re really good with him.” nolan sounds proud, watching the two of you, and the feeling comes back.

“i guess…” you move away from mark and he frowns, bottom lip quivering. debbie comes back with more food right as mark starts to wail.

“here nolan, you and (y/n) finish up while i take care of mark.” debbie leaves, cooing at mark as he reaches out to you. the two of you eat in silence, with you forcing the breakfast down and nolan watching your every move. debbie comes back with mark, dressed in new clothes.

a blast of air almost knocks you over as nolan comes back in full uniform, “i expect you to behave while i’m gone, (y/n). i don’t want to be disappointed on your first day upstairs.” you shakily nod and nolan smiles, “good.” he bends down to press a kiss to your head. you hear debbie and mark wish him goodbye, nolan whispering something to her as he kisses her goodbye.

the rest of your day passes smoothly, with you helping debbie around the house and playing with mark when she worked.

“h-how about we take mark to the playground? it might be nice for him to get some fresh air…” you test the waters occasionally, “it… it would also be nice if i could get some sun too.” you lean on the counter where debbie sits, resting your hand on her arm.

debbie looks over from her laptop, eyes searching your face. she sighs, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “oh i’m not sure, sweetheart.” she looks at you, saddened, “maybe tomorrow, we can all go on a family trip.” she smiles, patting your face gently. you nod, trying to hide your dismay.

you put mark to bed, you play with mark, you feed him and change him

you start to become more of a third parent to him

with mark liking you more, nolan and debbie start to trust you more

“really?” you straighten in surprise, barely hiding your glee. nolan looks over his newspaper and chuckles at your voice.

debbie continues, “mark hasn’t seen a beach before, so it’ll be fun to get him used to things like that. plus,” she gets close to you, “i know our baby wants to go out and feel some sun too.” she tilts your head with a finger to press her lips to yours. you melt into her, letting her touch comfort you. you could feel her tongue against your bottom lip, but before your body could betray you, debbie pulls away. she winks at nolan shifting in his chair.

freaky time at the beach cuz im freaky like that

you lay in the sun in the swimwear that nolan had bought you, leaning back on your hands. you watch as the three of them splash around in the water and let your eyes drift, watching the strangers far away from you. the two of them had chosen a spot away from onlookers, and taking a glance towards the parking lot, far from the car. you consider what would happen if you ran. ‘no, too far away, nolan would grab me before i even made it to the cars.’

“penny for your thoughts?” nolan’s deep voice pulled your attention back.

you pull your legs up, resting your head against your knees. “nothing interesting.” you mutter.

“are you sure.”

‘can this asshole read minds? jeez.’ “yeah, i’m sure.” you look back towards debbie and mark, mark giggles wildly as she splashes him, gently. nolan takes a seat next to you. he pats his lap, gesturing to you. you look around, “th-there could be people watching.”

“so?” he quirks an eyebrow at you, puzzled by your attitude. he doesn’t wait for a response, easily pulling you by the waist into his lap. “i knew you would look good in this,” his hands squeeze your thighs, moving back to your waist, “and debbie says i have no taste in fashion.” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. you try to shift away, but nolan grips your waist tighter, “i don’t think you wanna move like that, (y/n), it’s only going to make things harder.” he chuckles to himself. you relent, leaning back against his chest. you close your eyes with the warmth of his skin on your back and the sun against your face. “keep your eyes closed for me.” nolan whispers into your ear as he starts to move you against him.

“nolan wait-”

his grip on your waist hurts as he hisses, “don’t make a scene in front of mark and debbie. this is your only warning, (y/n).” you nod, and his hold on you loosens.

he keeps rocking you against him and you could feel him getting harder against you. you clutch his arms as he starts to move his hips in time with yours. as nolan grinded into you, you couldn’t help but whimper at his touch. you try to squeeze your eyes and dig your nails into his skin, trying to ignore the thought of strangers leering at you, watching as you were getting close to falling apart in one of your kidnapper’s arms.

“(y/n)! nolan! are you guys ready for lunch?” debbie’s voice forces nolan to still. nolan moves you aside as debbie comes over to put mark into your lap. “hold on to him for me, sweetheart.”

you nod, letting mark cuddle closer to you, “hey markie, you liking the beach?” he giggles as you pinch his cheeks. your eyes drift back to watch nolan whisper into his wife’s ear. she bites back a smile, looking over to you. your peaceful beach day was ruined as shame crept into your skin.

debbie and nolan start to trust you more, but not enough to leave you alone in the house.

debbie starts to take you with during errands and when she takes mark to the playground.

it felt nice, getting out of the house.

“god, i’m gonna be late.” you finish making debbie’s coffee, leaving it on the counter for her to take to work. “shit- NOLAN. TAKE MARK TO SCHOOL PLEASE.” she grabs her coffee and presses a kiss to your lips, “i’ll be back a little late, could you tell nolan to pick up from the preschool?” you nod and she kisses you once more before darting out to her car, without bothering to close the door. you blink and she’s gone, nolan replacing her with mark in his arms.

he looks around frantically, trying not to jostle mark. “sweetie, do you know where mark’s-”

you interrupt nolan, “here, i packed everything already. and debbie told me to tell you that you need to pick mark up cause she’s going to be late.” you smile with the bag in hand. nolan sighs.

“thank you, (y/n). what would do without you…” he presses a kiss to your lips before grabbing the bag. “oh, i need to run some errands for the house and i have some stupid meeting about the book-” he waves a hand, annoyed, “-so, i’ll be back a little late too. go ahead and have lunch without me.” he takes off with mark through the back, leaving you alone.

you sit down, exhausted from the normal chaos. you enjoy the silence in the house after being left alone. your eyes fall on the open front door and you sigh, “gosh, debbie…” you walk over, hand ready to close it when you pause. it’s open. for the first time since you were brought here, they left the door open. “is… is this a trap?”

if this was set-up by nolan and you run, you’ll lose the freedom you earned from them.

if this was an accident… you have time. time to run and never be found.

but what if you are found, omni-man would be hunting for you. he will find you.

you could hear your heart beat faster; you couldn’t breathe. this could be your only chance.

stockholm syndrome had taken root in you a long time ago. the couple had already molded you into their perfect plaything. you just hadn’t realized it until that day.

“(y/n)? what’re you making?” mark drops his bag on the couch.

“hey, markie. i’m just getting started on dinner. not hanging out with your friends today?” you smile as mark comes over to lean on your back. you feel him cringe at the pet name.

“nooo, they’re all busy. dad back from space yet?” his voice is muffled with his face pressed in your back.

“no, your mom said cecil doesn’t expect him to be back for another couple days, but cecil doesn’t know your dad like we do.” you chuckle to yourself. you turn around, letting mark properly hug you. “you should get started on your homework before dinner.” you give him a kiss on the head and mark leans into your touch.

“ughhh, can’t i just help you with cooking? i’d rather help my parents out than do homework.” mark mumbles into your shoulder.

you laugh, holding him closer, “oh my sweet markie,” you hear a muffled response at the name, “go finish your work and we can go a family movie night or something.” he pulls away from you with a pout. you pinch his cheeks and he grumbles.

“alrighttt, but i get to pick the movie.” he shoots you a fake glare and you nod with a laugh.

you helped raise mark since he was a baby, so you really are a third parent to him

he didn’t really understand the nature of your relationship with nolan and debbie, so they waited to really explain stuff when he get a little older.

when nolan explained to mark what actually happened in the beginning, he talked to you after his parents left

asking if you were happy and if you needed help, but by that point, you were too far gone

you just nod and say of course, but tell him to never mention to his parents what he asked you

debbie’s moans were music to your ears as you licked up her slit. you could feel nolan’s finger press into you, “god, (y/n), it’s like you get tighter no matter how many times i stretch you out.” you moan at the feeling, but debbie uses a hand to keep your head between her legs.

“don’t distract-” you cut debbie off, your tongue pressing against her clit. she moans and grinds onto your tongue, using you for her pleasure.

“relax for me, angel.” nolan grunts as he presses into you. you moan, unable to move, sandwiched between the two. before long, you were getting manhandled by both of them. nolan’s hands squeeze your hips as he pistons into you; debbie’s legs crush your head as she keeps you caged. all you could do was let them use you, letting yourself drown in pleasure.

they like to switch it up sometimes, but usually they’re both using you or tying you down to watch them make out

they used to do that in the beginning, since you were so “unruly”, and they liked seeing you squirm :)

anyway, these freakmeisters are into a lot of freak shit so don’t be surprised if there’s a weekend getaway to some cabin in the woods while mark is staying over at william's, and they end up fucking you against a tree

or going to some nice hotel and making you go down on them in the pool

idk they’re freaky as hell

i can imagine a lot of things…. writing it is a whole other issue lolol

this got too long… bye <3

[luvnette]

꧁𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)꧂

༺Councilor!Sevika x piltie!reader༻

Part 2

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SFW, Fluff, men DNI, arranged marriage, reader is in her early 20s, shitty parents

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your parents are mad at you for being a lesbian- and to punish you, they want you to marry Sevika. At first you’re intimidated by her, but that’s going to change pretty quick.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 580

You couldn’t believe it. Sure, it’s probably hard for your mother and father, having to accept the fact that you will never fall in love with a man, give them grandchildren and live the life they always wanted you to- But an arranged marriage as a punishment? That’s fucked.

The woman your parents want you to marry is one of the newer councilors, Sevika. She represents Zaun and is just as scary as the big, dark city beneath Piltover- At least you thought so. Her big, muscular figure, the sharp claws on her prosthetic arm, her gray, cold eyes and her deep voice were intimidating. While you wore one of your prettiest dresses, a bunch of jewelry and your hair tied together in an elegant bun, she looked like every other day, bored and dressed like a man.

Together, you walked through the pretty gardens behind your house, not daring to look at or talk to her. Maybe somehow you could find a way out of this situation, tell her that you’re not feeling well or-

“This is stupid.” she mumbled inaudible, interrupting your escape plans.

“Excuse me, what did you say?” you asked, looking up at her.

“I said that this whole marriage thing is a dumb idea. It’s never not when it’s forced.”

“I’m sorry if I seem.. uninterested..” you looked down at your hands, fumbling your fingers nervously.

“It’s alright, I don’t blame you.” she says, chuckling a little. “I can tell your parents that the deal’s off the table.” she offered, smiling at you.

Looking at her, you noticed that, with a smile on her face, she didn’t seem so scary anymore- she actually looked quite.. cute. And as much as you would’ve liked to tell her to do that, something held you back.

“Still there?” she asked you, waking you from your thoughts. “I won’t be mad at you, can’t force love.”

You both stopped walking, standing in front of each other.

“Please, don’t. I think my parents would simply arrange another marriage with someone even worse.”

You didn’t really realized what you said before you saw that Sevika raised her eyebrow at your words, her smile fading.

“God.. I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean it like that.. I’m such an idiot!..” you cursed, ashamed of yourself for being so rude.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” she said, reaching out to cup your face with her big palm, making you look into her eyes. You blushed a little, feeling her warmth against your skin, her touch surprisingly gentle.

“Actually.. I would like to get to know you better, Sevika, if you’re still.. interested of course.” you gave her a little smile, studying her facial expressions, relieved when you notice that she smiled back- not breaking eye contact.

“I am.” she answered, tracing her thumb over your cheek. “How about we meet again next week?”

“Sounds lovely.”

You both walked back through the gardens to your home, talking about what you’re going to do on your next date and chuckling like two stupid teenagers in love.

𝐀/𝐧: Hello there!🫶🏼 This is my first time writing:)). I kind of wrote this in a little rush too, but I hope it turned out alright anyway. This is obv only part one, I have way more in mind for this story!♥️ (sex✨)

Also, I am way too used to german grammar, so don’t be surprised if there are too many/not enough commas🥲

Thanks for reading!<33

[runningincircl3s]

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Six

chapter warnings: none?

i decided to make a sandwich half way through editing this chapter and i forgot where i was at so if there's any spelling mistakes or anything pls ignore!! :) also i want to add that i have no knowledge of fishing!! i only know what i know because of what folio was talking about on craig's podcast lmao

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The next morning, you found yourself getting dragged out of the house early to follow the guys down to a spot not too far from Jolly’s house, for a day of fishing. Jolly picked you and Folio up, and you met the others at his house before walking a “quick” 45 minutes down to the lake. 

However, you couldn’t complain once you got there. The lake itself was beautiful, the sun was warm on your skin and the breeze was light. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all?

As the guys got set up, Folio wouldn’t stop rambling about bait, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how passionate he was about this, it warmed your heart to see him so happy.

But then you had a thought. 

“Do people really use worms as bait?” You raised an eyebrow, turning to Folio, who had already whipped his shirt off, and you couldn't help but wonder when he had gotten his chest tattooed.

“Yep!” He nodded.

“So… It isn’t just a cartoon thing?”

“No! It’s live bait, some people use worms, some use maggots, crickets, even smaller fish.” 

“What the fuck? That’s like cannibalism, right?”

“Not really,” Folio hummed, “I don’t use any of those though.” 

“So what do you use?”

“You’ll see soon!” He smiled, turning back to the lake. 

You didn’t think you’d be fishing today, you’d let the guys do that and your plan was to sit and soak up the sun. Even when Jolly offered you a rod, you turned it down, setting your picnic blanket down on the ground instead and stretching out on it.

Ruffilo joined you, asking before sitting down beside you on the blanket. He offered you a beer, but you politely declined, so Bryan took it instead. 

“It feels weird without Noah.” Nicholas said, and you couldn’t help but wince at his name. You thought a day without him was what you needed, but there was never an escape, was there?

“I was just thinking that,” Jolly agreed, sitting on one of the fold up chairs and nudging your leg with his foot, “I bet you’re not complaining though.” 

You just shook your head. 

“I don’t want to think about him.” 

The guys were suddenly quiet, like they were all thinking the same thing but none of them wanted to ask. Ruffilo sighed, placing a hand on your knee. 

“Don’t take anything he says personally, Noah I mean. He’s been off with us all for a while now. I know that man better than he knows himself, and I know he’s stubborn as hell, but he still cares about you.” 

You slowly looked up, almost hesitant before your eyes met his. 

“I just wish he’d actually talk to me.” You sighed. “One minute I feel like he hates my guts and the next it’s like nothing has ever happened! He's constantly messing with my mind.” 

“That’s Noah for you.” Ruff chuckled. By this point, the others had fallen into their own conversation, leaving the two of you to talk in relative privacy

“Amy said something to me yesterday and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it…” You frowned. 

“What did she say?”

You hesitated for a moment, feeling your mouth dry up as you began to speak. 

“She said that if Noah had the chance, if I gave him even the slightest hint to say I wanted him back, he’d drop everything for me…” You could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you kept your gaze fixed on the lake, “Is it true that he’s not happy with her anymore?”

“Is it not obvious?” Ruff smiled softly, “Before you came back around, those two were pretty much inseparable, he couldn't even go to the studio alone. But now... it’s different. It’s like he’s purposely trying to push her away so that she’ll leave first. But I know she loves him too much to do that.”

You frowned, turning back to look at him. 

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer... but as his best friend, has he spoken to you about me?”

Ruff nodded. 

“He never shuts up about you. Never has since the day you met.”

You felt your world stopped for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as a warmth spread in your chest.

You knew Noah had never fully let go of you, but hearing it said out loud, especially from someone who knew him better than anyone, made it feel real in a way you weren’t sure you were ready to ever think about. 

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of your blanket as you stared at the water.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ruffilo said softly, watching you with careful eyes. “I know it’s a lot.”

You exhaled a shaky laugh. 

“A lot is an understatement.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sounds of the others laughing in the distance, the gentle rustling of the trees, and the distant chirping of birds filled the silence between you. You wanted to say something, to admit that a part of you already knew, that every time Noah looked at you, you could feel the weight of things left unspoken between you. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

He never said anything. Not anything meaningful. 

But neither did you.

“I just don’t get it,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If he really does still care that much, then why is he still with her, why does he refuse to let her go if he isn't happy? Why does he act like I don’t exist half the time, and then the next second, he’s looking at me like-” You stopped yourself before you could finish that thought.

Ruff knew what you were trying to say anyway.

He let out a slow breath, like he’d been asking himself the same questions. 

“Because it’s easier, I guess.”

“What?” You frowned. 

“It’s easier to be with her, can’t you see? It’s easier to pretend he’s over you, to push you away, to hurt you before you can hurt him again. But at the same time, it’s like he can’t help himself, he still gravitates toward you, even when he tries not to. I guess that’s what happens when you really, really mean something to someone.”

That hit you like a punch to the stomach.

"Do you remember the night you met? When we all met you?"

"A little," you nodded, "I couldn't really tell you anything about it though."

Ruffilo nodded.

"I don't remember much either, Jolly does though, he was the only sober one there. All I remember, what everyone remembers, is that from the moment you two laid eyes on each other, something... clicked. It was like you were always meant to be. You didn’t leave each others side once that night, you were practically glued together, like you'd known each other forever. No one could get a word in, and honestly, no one wanted to, we were happy for him. It was like nothing else mattered, just you two. I truly think it was love at first sight, and everyone else could see it. It's why it didn't come as a surprise when the two of you were sneaking about last year."

Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out.

You barely remembered a thing from that night, but you knew now that you had totally fucked up.

“So what do I do?” You finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ruff gave you a small, knowing smile. 

“That’s not my call to make.” He glanced toward the others, where Jolly was currently swearing at his fishing rod and Bryan was filming him. Then he looked back at you. “But whatever you decide… don’t wait too long.”

“What do you mean-”

“Holy shit!” Jolly shouted, and as you looked over you saw him with a huge fish in his hands, “I told you I’d catch one first!”

…

You were pretty quiet for the rest of the trip, and it was slowly starting to get dark now. The lake reflected the soft hues of the evening sky, the water rippling gently in the breeze. You sat near the disposable barbeque, watching as Folio flipped the burgers, the smell of charred meat filling the air.

“Alright, who's hungry?” Folio announced, holding up the plate of burgers and hotdogs like he was presenting some five-star meal.

“It’s a miracle you didn’t burn them.” Nicholas chuckled, inspecting them before reaching into the cooler for a drink.

“How dare you doubt my chef skills! I cook almost every night at home and I’ve never heard y/n complain once!” 

Jolly chuckled as he handed out plates, nudging you lightly with his elbow as he noticed how you were far away, in a world of your own. 

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile. 

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Jolly didn’t push, just gave a small nod before sitting back in his chair.

A comfortable silence settled over the group as everyone dug into their food. The only sounds were the crackling of the grill and the occasional murmured conversation. Then, out of nowhere, Jolly cleared his throat.

“So… I’ve been thinking about proposing to Nicole.”

Folio choked on his drink. 

“Dude- what?”

Jolly laughed at his reaction, shaking his head. 

“You heard me.”

“Finally!” Bryan grinned, “What took you so long?”

“What?” Jolly laughed, “What took me so long?”

“You’ve been with her how long? Like… five years?” Nicholas pointed a fry at him. 

“Six.” Jolly corrected.

“Exactly.” Bryan smirked. “About damn time.”

You watched Jolly, the way his expression softened just at the mention of Nicole’s name. It was rare to see him get sentimental, but right now, it was obvious just how much he loved her.

And love was a sore topic for you right now.

“Do you know how you’re gonna do it?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Jolly shrugged. 

“Not yet. I just know I want to. I’ve been carrying the ring around for a while now, just waiting for the right moment. It’s her birthday next weekend, I’m organising a small party for her with our close friends, so basically just you guys, and I was thinking about doing it then?”

“Wait, you already have the ring?” Folio’s eyes widened. 

“Yeah.” Jolly chuckled. 

“Dude, just ask her already!” Bryan exclaimed. 

Jolly sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

“I just… want it to be perfect, you know? She deserves that.”

You felt a warmth in your chest at his words. It was rare to see this side of Jolly, so open and vulnerable, but it made you happy.

“She’s gonna say yes no matter what,” you reassured him, “She really loves you.” 

Jolly smiled. 

“I hope so.”

“Nah,” Bryan grinned. “You better hope she doesn’t realise she could do better before you ask.”

“Bry!” You scoffed, as Jolly threw a fry at him. 

For a moment, the heaviness in your chest lifted, as the guys burst into laughter.

You realised in that moment how grateful you were for your friends. Even if you didn’t know where you stood with Noah, you always had them. 

However, your moment was quickly ruined as you felt something wet land on your arm. 

Oh shit. Rain?

The first few drops were barely noticeable at first, cool against your skin as they landed. You thought maybe it would pass, just a fleeting drizzle, nothing more. But within minutes, the sky darkened, and the rain picked up,getting heavier, until the sound of droplets hitting the lake and the surrounding trees filled the air.

"Oh, come on!" Folio groaned, shielding his eyes as he looked up at the clouds.

Bryan laughed, shaking out his hair as droplets clung to the ends. 

"Suck it up, princess." He said to Folio, before he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it in your direction. "Here, before you start crying about it. I know how you get when your hair is wet."

You caught it, rolling your eyes. Bry had a hoodie beneath his jacket, and all you had was a tank top.

"Wow, thanks. So chivalrous of you."

"I try.” Bryan smirked, pulling his hood up.

“It should pass soon.” Jolly said, sitting back in his chair. 

But after a few minutes passed, it was only getting heavier. 

“I say we head back to Jolly’s.” Nicholas called, and the guys nodded. 

"What about all the gear?" Folio asked, glancing down towards the lake. 

"You and y/n got it, right?" Bryan grinned, backing away as he joined the others who were already heading to the woods. 

"What?!" You exclaimed, "Hell no, you guys help-"

"Bye!" The guys waved. 

Before you could protest, they were gone, disappearing into the trees, their laughter fading as they left you and Folio standing there, abandoned in the pouring rain.

Folio exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face as water dripped from his chin. 

"I fucking hate them." He shook his head. 

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. 

"There’s no way we’re carrying all this back in the rain."

"Nope. Not happening," Folio agreed, crossing his arms. "What’s the plan, then? We just… live here now?"

You huffed, pulling Bryan’s jacket tighter around yourself as another gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine.

"I guess we just wait it out?"

Folio sighed, glancing around before pointing to a large tree a few feet away. 

"C’mon, at least let’s get under there so we’re not totally drenched."

You agreed, following him and settling underneath the thick branches. It barely made a differnce.

"Alright, screw this," you grumbled, hugging Bryan’s jacket tighter around yourself. "Call someone. I am not staying here any longer."

Folio pulled out his phone, squinting at the screen through the water droplets sliding down it. 

"Who do you suggest? Because I know Jolly’s not coming back for us, Matt’s visiting Alyson’s parents, and Davis- hell no, he’d never let us live it down."

You hesitated, dread settling in your stomach as you swallowed your pride.

"How about Noah."

Folio let out a low whistle. 

"Oh, boy. You sure about that?"

"Nick. I’d rather die than walk all the way back in this rain carrying all this shit."

He huffed a laugh before nodding. 

But instead of pressing call, he handed you the phone. 

"Your idea, you call him."

You shot him a glare but took the phone anyway. Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the call button. The line rang a few times before finally connecting.

"Hello? I told you I’m busy today, what do you want?"

His voice was sharp, impatient. You braced yourself.

"Noah… hi."

A pause. 

"What do you want?"

You exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. 

"Well… Folio and I are kinda stranded at the lake by Jolly’s place. It’s pouring, and the guys are all assholes and ditched us with all the fishing gear... We need a ride."

Silence.

"Yeah, not my problem."

You shot Folio a look, and he snatched the phone out of your hand before you could protest.

"Dude, come on," he said, exasperated. "We’re drenched, and we have all the gear to take back. Just come pick us up real quick."

"You know how far that is? Call someone else."

You rolled your eyes. Typical. Before you could tell Folio to hang up, he smirked slightly.

"Oh, yeah? I get why you’d leave me out here but what about y/n? Noah, she’s completely soaked, shivering… she’s gonna get sick."

The silence on the other end was instant.

Your eyes widened, whipping your head toward him. 

"Are you serious?" You mouthed.

Folio just grinned, raising a finger to his lips to say trust me.

A few more seconds of silence. Then finally, Noah let out an annoyed breath.

"Where are you exactly?"

Folio beamed in victory. 

"I’ll send you the location. Hurry up, alright? We’re freezing."

Noah hung up without another word. Folio immediately turned to you with a smug grin.

"Knew that would work. He can pretend to hate you all he wants but-"

“Folio!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t." He smirked.

…

“I was thinking maybe we could redecorate the kitchen?” Amy suggested, “I like the wooden cabinets but I think we should go for a more modern look, why don’t we have a think about it?”

“Hm, yeah, sounds good.” Noah nodded, not fully listening. 

The two of them were out for dinner, Noah had taken Amy out for a day of shopping, and now to eat at her favourite restaurant. He had tried all day to put on the loving boyfriend act, but it had gotten to a point where he was tired of it now. He just wanted her to go home- but she can’t, because now they live together. 

“I was also wondering if-”

Buzz buzz… Buzz buzz

Noah apologised, reaching into his pocket for his phone, thanking some higher being for this interruption. 

When he looked at the name and read Folio, he had some kind of idea what this was going to be about. Noah had checked the weather forecast, and it had said it was due to rain around now. He chuckled to himself before answering. 

"Hello? I told you I’m busy today, what do you want?" He asked, sitting back in his seat with a sigh. 

But the voice that answered back wasn’t Folio. 

"Noah… hi." There was no mistaking that voice.

His heart skipped a beat, but he forced his voice to remain steady. 

"What do you want?"

He heard you shift, your voice crackling just a little. The rain was clearly getting to you. 

"Well… Folio and I are kinda stranded at the lake by Jolly’s place. It’s pouring, and the guys are all assholes and ditched us with all the fishing gear. We need a ride…?"

There was a long pause on Noah’s end, he knew he’d give in eventually, he wanted an escape from the restaurant, he just couldn’t make it seem so obvious to Amy that he wanted to leave. So the sharp edge of his irritation returned. 

"Yeah, not my problem."

He could hear some movement, and then Folio had snatched the phone from you.

"Dude, come on," he said, exasperated. "We’re drenched, and we’ve got all the gear to take back. Just come pick us up real quick."

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration building. 

"You know how far that is? Call someone else."

The line was silent for a beat. And then Folio added something Noah didn’t expect to hear. 

"Oh, yeah? I get why you’d leave me out here, but what about y/n? Noah, she’s completely soaked, shivering… she’s gonna get sick."

The words hit Noah harder than he expected.

He froze, his hand tightening around his phone. He should’ve just hung up. He should’ve ignored this. But the thought of you in the rain, shivering and vulnerable, made his chest tighten.

There was no way around it. He couldn't leave you out there. He didn’t want to care, but he did. And that made everything so much more complicated.

"Where are you exactly?" Noah asked, his voice a little quieter now.

Folio wasted no time.

"I’ll send you the location. Hurry up, alright? We’re freezing."

Noah hung up, the decision already made. He glanced over at Amy, who had raised an eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanor. But Noah didn’t have time to explain. He grabbed his jacket and stood up.

"I’m sorry, there’s an emergency, Folio’s uh… broken a finger… He needs taking to the hospital, I’ve gotta go." He said quickly, before she could ask any questions.

She didn’t protest, but the confused and disappointed look she gave him was enough to make him feel guilty. 

"Okay… I’ll see you later then."

Without another word, he rushed out, the cold air biting at his skin as he jogged to his car. His mind raced as he drove toward the lake, the rain pounding harder against the windshield. 

What was he doing?

…

It didn’t take long before headlights cut through the rain, the familiar sight of Noah’s car pulling up near the dirt road leading to the lake. The moment the window rolled down, his gaze immediately landed on you.

"Get in."

You didn’t hesitate, yanking open the door and practically diving into the warm interior. Folio took his time loading the car, then finally he gathered the lighter gear and tossed it in before he climbed into the passenger's seat. 

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair before shifting into drive. 

"You guys are a pain in my ass, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are." Folio smirked.

Noah shot him a glare before turning his attention back to the road. You sat there, dripping wet and exhausted, but for some reason, you felt just a little bit warmer.

Because if he truly didn't care, he would've left you two out there.

"Couldn’t handle a little rain?" Noah asked, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

"Oh, shut up." You scoffed, your teeth chattering as you shivered.

He smirked slightly, before reaching out to turn up the heating.

“There should be a hoodie in the back somewhere, put it on.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“No, I’m good.”

"No, y/n. Take off whatever is wet and get changed." Noah’s voice was more stern this time, almost commanding.

“Why? So I can look even more pathetic? I'm not some damsel in distress, Noah."

He glanced at you again, his expression softening just a little. 

"No, I know you’re not. But I don’t want you getting sick, and I’m not gonna let you freeze to death in my car either. Put it on."

You blinked, surprised. 

“Okay, as long as neither of you look.” 

Folio immediately covered his eyes, and Noah fought back the urge to say, It’s nothing I haven’t seen before... you could tell by the slight smirk on his lips that he was tempted.

A few seconds passed before you reluctantly leaned over, grabbing it from the seat beside you. You took off your jacket and shirt, leaving you in just your bra as you pulled his hoodie over your head, the fabric surprisingly warm against your skin. It smelled faintly like Noah, and it made you feel oddly at ease, though you’d never ever admit it to him.

Noah kept his eyes on the road, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, like he was trying to focus on driving but couldn’t help noticing the way you looked, all bundled up in his hoodie.

It made your cheeks flush. 

"Better?" He asked, his voice quieter now, more considerate.

You nodded, glancing over at him. 

"Yeah. Thanks." You said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. 

“Can I look now?” Folio asked, his hands still dramatically covering his eyes. 

…

It wasn’t too long before  the car slowed and Noah pulled into the driveway of your place. The rain hadn’t let up, and the evening air had only gotten colder.

"Well, this is it." Noah said.

You glanced over at him, your fingers still clutching the hoodie, and for a second, there was an awkward silence. You weren't sure what to say, or if you even needed to say anything. 

So you decided to just reach for the door handle, until Noah's voice stopped you.

"Keep it."

You blinked at him, not sure you heard him right.

"Keep it," he repeated, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "It looks better on you than it does on me."

You hesitated for a second, your heart fluttering.

"Are you sure?" You couldn’t stop yourself from asking, though you had a feeling it was more of a rhetorical question.

Noah gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his lips curling slightly into that familiar half-smirk. 

"Yeah. Just don't lose it."

You smiled softly, more to yourself than anything, before giving him a quick nod. 

"Thanks.” You murmured.

Folio, who had been mostly quiet during the ride, was already bringing the fishing gear inside. You asked if he wanted a hand, but he shook his head, telling you to just get inside, into the warm. 

You stepped out of the car, holding your soaked clothes in your arms. Before you could turn away, Noah’s voice cut through your thoughts again.

"Hey, y/n?"

You stopped and turned back to him. 

"Yeah?"

"Next time," he started, his tone slightly softer than before, "Try not to get yourself stranded in the rain again, okay?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the slight ache in your chest. 

"I’ll try."

With that, you closed the door softly, turning to head inside. As you walked toward the door, you glanced down at the hoodie you were wearing, wondering if it meant anything more to him than just lending you a piece of clothing. But you didn’t dwell on it for long. You had a feeling you’d figure it out eventually.

You had gone straight up to your room, deciding you were going to have a shower and then go to bed. You didn’t know how to deal with all the thoughts in your head right now, so hopefully a nice hot shower would help your mind clear. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Ruffilo had said, and then how when Folio had mentioned you were cold Noah changed his mind and picked you up, and how he told you he didn’t want you getting sick-

You were probably overthinking, right? Anyone would’ve done the same, why does it make any difference that it was Noah?

You shook your head, shaking away the thoughts as you got undressed, tugging the wet shorts off. You slipped your hands into the pocket in Noah’s hoodie, making sure you hadn’t put something in there, but instead you pulled a couple things out. 

First, a hair band, your brow furrowed as you set it down on your dresser, thoughts of Noah’s little bun flooding your mind, and secondly a scrunched up piece of paper, which had something written on it. You immediately recognised Noah’s handwriting, and you wondered if this was really something you should be looking at, but still you unfolded and uncreased the paper, revealing what you guessed to be song lyrics.

You shouldn't be reading this, you weren't sure if this was lyrics or just something he wanted to get off his mind, but curiosity won, and you began to read.

You said enough

You never loved the thought of us

You're too good to be true, yeah

I gotta go, gotta run

You don't want me the way I want you, no

You walked too close to the rails

I picked you up when you fell

How can you live with yourself?

You're lost, but I couldn't tell

Fooled me and you did it well

Thought you were somebody else

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

okay so if you read nothing ever after, i want to let you know i'm gonna change the story of how they met just a tiny bit... i've spent weeks writing the chapter where jolly explains it to them and i feel like it'd be a good idea to just say there'll be some inconsistencies until i can edit it lmao

@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts @kait16xo @oobleoob @sunshine-lvrr @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @samanthasgone @superpiratecriminalchef @lukeevangelista @lunabuna991 @ami-gami @bluehairpunklol

[cheezb6llz]

WEREHOG SONIC X LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD READER!!

! requested yes!!!

The moon hung high in the sky, the faint light of it cast an eerie glow throughout the forest as you tried to keep your eyes on the path. You were on your way to your grandmother’s house to deliver a basket of goodies you had recently bought her at a market. The basket swayed slightly in your hand with each step you took.

Everything around you was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. The soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet were the only sound to be heard until..

Rustle.

You froze, quickly turning to the direction of the sound. Your heart pounded as something stepped out from the bushes. Something huge, something beastly.

Clawed hands, thick deep blue fur, glowing green eyes, FANGS.. It towered over you, the moonlight faintly illuminating its sharp features and wild quills. You stumbled back, letting out a gasp as your basket dropped to the floor spilling everything inside, everything you had prepared so dearly for your grandmother..

“Woah, woah!” The monster raised its hands in defense. “I’m not gonna eat ya! I mean- unless you’re into that-“ His voice was rough, but undeniably playful.

You blinked, breath caught in your throat. “W- What?”

He grinned, fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Kidding! Just kidding..” His expression softened as he rubbed the back of his head. “Aw man, sorry about your basket..” He crouched down, scooping up an apple and tossing it back into the basket.

You finally found your voice. “You made me drop it! Those were for my grandmother!”

“Yeah, my bad.” He laughed sheepishly, helping you gather your things. “Name’s Sonic, by the way..”

You hesitated, but slowly knelt down in front of him to gather your things as well. “..You’re not gonna… Y’know.. Attack me?”

“Nah, I’m more of a ‘save the day’ guy.” He said with a toothy grin.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but as he finished helping you collect your things, his warm, playful energy made it hard to stay frightened.

You scooped up the last of the fallen fruit, shoving it back in your basket with a frustrated huff. Sure, you could save the fruit, but the bread? Wasn’t much you could do about that. Great. Just great.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that!” You scolded, adjusting the cloth on your basket as you both stood up. “Do you know how terrifying you look?”

Sonic his head, a lopsided grin tugging at his mouth. “Aw, c’mon, I’m not that scary.”

You shot him a deadpan stare, eyes flicking over his monstrous form. His glowing green eyes.. The massive claws, the fangs.. Not that scary? Seriously?

“Okay, okay.. Maybe I gotta little bit of a creepy forest monster vibe goin’ on.. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to scare ya!”

You sighed, shifting the weight of the basket in your arms. “Well.. You did. And now my food’s all ruined!”

Sonic peeked over at the damage. “Yeeeahhh.. That one’s on me.” He scratched his cheek, frowning. “Tell you what, I’ll walk you home. You’re not gonna wanna bring that mess to your grandma now, right?”

You hesitated. “And why would I go anywhere with you?”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ooh- Harsh.” Then he smirked. “But hey, If I was gonna do anything bad, don’t you think I would’ve done it already?”

You paused. He did have a point..

“Fine.” You muttered. “But if you try anything, I will throw this basket at your face.”

Sonic snickered. “Noted.”

With that, he stepped beside you as you began your journey home through the dark woods. You glanced at him, he was definitely strange, but something about him felt oddly reassuring.

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Four: Playing the Part

Series Masterlist

Reader stood in Sylus’s penthouse, her mind spinning from the bombshell he had just dropped. She had spent the better part of the last few days adjusting to her bizarre new role as Sylus Qin’s personal maid-turned-fake fiancée, only to find out she had unknowingly become a pawn in a much larger game.

An auction house. Underground. Illegal. Dangerous. And Sylus—Sylus was at the center of it all.

She sat stiffly on the edge of the leather sofa, gripping the hem of her dress. Her gaze flicked up to Sylus, who was casually pouring himself a drink, his movements unhurried as though discussing criminal enterprises was as mundane as reviewing hotel operations.

“You run the auction house?” Reader asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sylus smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “What gave it away? The part where I knew everyone there, or the fact that I bought you for a billion dollars?”

Her stomach twisted. “That’s not funny.”

“Relax,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I didn’t put you there. That was an… oversight.”

“Oversight?” she snapped, standing up. “You mean to tell me that people like me—people who accidentally break a vase—end up being sold in cages, and it’s just business as usual for you?”

Sylus set his glass down, his red eyes sharp as they locked onto hers. “First of all, I don’t sell people. That’s not my business. The auction house is a means to an end—a tool to build connections with… powerful individuals. And before you ask, yes, some of those individuals are less than savory. But you’d be surprised how useful those connections are in this world.”

Her brows furrowed. “Connections like Maria?”

Sylus’s lips twitched, a mixture of annoyance and amusement crossing his face. “Ah, Maria. The lovely daughter of a renowned mafia boss from Linkon.”

Reader’s eyes widened. “Wait—mafia boss?”

He nodded, a trace of exasperation in his tone. “Her father is one of my biggest ‘clients.’ He sent her in his place to attend the auction, and she’s been… attached ever since.”

Reader crossed her arms. “Attached, huh? Sounds like she has a crush.”

“An unhealthy one,” Sylus muttered. “Maria has a penchant for getting what she wants, and she’s convinced I’m on her wishlist.”

Reader raised a brow. “And you don’t like her?”

Sylus gave her a pointed look. “Do I strike you as the type to tolerate people like her?”

“Well,” she began, shrugging, “you are tolerating me.”

A laugh burst from him, deep and genuine. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Why don’t you just tell her to back off?” Reader pressed.

His expression darkened slightly. “Maria isn’t the kind of person you brush off. Not without consequences. And upsetting her father isn’t exactly on my to-do list.”

Reader frowned, piecing it together. “So, you needed a way to get her off your back without causing a mess.”

“Bingo,” he said with a grin, tapping his temple. “And then, as if the universe handed me a solution on a silver platter, you showed up.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sylus shrugged, unbothered. “What can I say? I’m a problem solver.”

Before Reader could retort, Sylus glanced at his watch. “Speaking of problems, we have a party to attend.”

The grand ballroom of the Onychinus Casino was alive with glittering lights, soft jazz music, and the quiet hum of conversations between the rich and powerful. Reader adjusted her red dress nervously, feeling out of place among the opulence.

Sylus, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, dressed in a sleek black suit that contrasted sharply with his white hair and striking red eyes. He rested a hand lightly on Reader’s back as they entered, his touch sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

“Smile,” he whispered. “You’re my fiancée tonight, remember?”

Reader forced a polite smile, though her nerves threatened to undo her. “Do I have to hold your hand too, dear?”

Sylus chuckled, leaning down to murmur, “Only if you want to sell the act. Or is it that you want to hold my hand?”

She shot him a glare, which only made him smirk wider.

As they mingled, Sylus seamlessly navigated the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and sly remarks with his guests. Reader tried to keep up, but her attention was pulled away when a familiar figure entered the room: Maria.

Maria’s emerald-green dress shimmered under the lights as she approached with her usual confident stride. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on Sylus, narrowing slightly when she noticed Reader by his side.

“Sylus,” Maria greeted, her voice honeyed but icy. “You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing… company.”

Sylus’s smile was perfectly measured, his arm tightening slightly around Reader’s waist. “Maria, meet my fiancée.”

Maria’s eyes flicked to Reader, her expression skeptical. “Your fiancée? How… sudden.”

Reader took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. “It’s nice to meet you, Maria,” she said with a polite smile.

Maria’s gaze lingered on her, and for a moment, the tension was palpable. Then she smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Likewise. I wasn’t aware Sylus had settled down. You must be very… special.”

“Special doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sylus said smoothly, his tone dripping with amusement. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Reader clenched her jaw, trying to keep her expression neutral. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Sylus bit back a laugh, clearly entertained by her forced tone. Maria, meanwhile, didn’t look convinced.

“I suppose I’ll have to get used to the idea,” Maria said, her voice laced with false sweetness. “But Sylus, you know how I hate surprises.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises,” Sylus said, his red eyes glinting mischievously.

Reader held back a groan. This man was impossible.

As the evening went on, Reader found herself enduring Sylus’s constant teasing remarks and Maria’s thinly veiled hostility. But despite the chaos, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had somehow passed a test she didn’t even know she was taking.

By the end of the night, Sylus leaned down to her, his breath warm against her ear. “Not bad for your first performance. Keep this up, and I might actually start enjoying having you around.”

Reader rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “I’m not sure I can say the same.”

Sylus grinned, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, you’ll warm up to me. They always do.”

Reader wasn’t so sure about that. But as she glanced at him, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d already taken the first step into a game she wasn’t ready to play.

Taglist: @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @seris-the-amious @paninisstuff @mysticcollectionvoid @animegamerfox @mcdepressed290 @fries11

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Misheard Sentence

Reader finds out she is pregnant and is worried to tell Rip since she hears he doesn't want kids - wattpad SkyeBennett3

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - just send an ask to be added @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @frost-queen @child-of-of-the-sunshine

Tears slipped down my face as I shacklingly held onto the pregnancy test in my hands. I had taken three before this one and I still couldn’t believe that I was pregnant. Pregnant with Rip Wheeler’s child to be specific about it. Sliding my knees up to my chest I blinked back some tears. I silently stared down at the object in my hands thinking back on what I had heard between Rip and Ryan out by the barn a few days ago.

“Gosh I can’t believe we had to get Jimmy down from a tree yesterday. I swear he’s like a child.” Ryan chuckled outside causing me to pause me brushing my horse Holly inside of her stall.

Rip, my boyfriend removed his hat briefly running a hand through his hair and placed it back on his head. “I know I thought I’d never have to raise anymore kids to do the jobs we do everyday. But John says he has to work here according to his grandfather.”

“Have you and Y/n ever thought about having kids of your own?” Ryan asked his lead ranch hand.

Rip threw his head with a deep groan like it was the worst thing in the world to him. “Geez I don’t even like dogs. I sure as hell can’t imagine having kids with -“ Sneaking out of the horse stall I ran back to the bunkhouse not wanting to hear him finish his sentence.

Walking slowly out onto the porch of our little house John had given us I slumped down on the swing still holding onto the pregnancy test. I couldn’t push away the sick feeling I got in my stomach over the fact that Rip wouldn’t want to be a father. I never thought about having kids but now that my love may not want it I wanted to keep the little life growing inside me more than anything else in this world.

“You’re home early, darling.”

Yanking my head upright, my whole body froze hearing Rip’s voice as he made his way up the wooden porch steps. “Rip! What - what are you doing here?”

“Mr. Dutton needs me to help them move some cattle up to the Summer Camp. I just came by to grab some things. I can’t complain though that you’re here before I leave for a few days.” He smiled down at me walking up until he was standing in front of me. “What’s that in your hand there?”

“Uh nothing.” I lied, swiping the pregnancy test behind my back, hiding it in my back Jean pocket before I sat my hands on my knees hoping he didn’t notice my movements. “Do you have time to eat dinner with me before you go?”

Rip tilted his head to the side seeing how I bit my lip and he knew that was my tell. “Y/n, what aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Wheeler.” Getting up from the porch swing I started walking through the front door until he gently snagged my wrist stopping me from going any further. “Rip, let me go so I can fix you up some dinner.”

“Y/n, I know when you ain't telling me the truth. You bite your lip or change thw subject when you're lying to me and I thought we made an agreement to not do that to one another.”

Parting my lips I cut myself off short at a loss for words of what to say back to him. “I - I - I know something but I'm afraid once you know the truth you'll be upset with me.”

“There’s nothing you could say to me to make me be super upset with you.” He softened his gaze reaching down so my hand was now in his rougher one. “Would you please tell me what is really going on with you.”

I responded almost in a whisper. “I heard what you said to Ryan.”

“What. When did you?”

I explained feeling my eyes tearing up at the thought, reaching inside my back pocket with my freehand and held out the pregnancy test to him. “You told him and I quote “I sure as hell can’t imagine having kids with-”. I got the clear message before you finished your sentence. But for a few days I have been getting sick in the morning so I took this.”

“It’s positive?” Rip asked me while holding the stick in his freehand.

Nodding my head I slumped my shoulders fighting the urge to not start bawling in front of him over this. “Look I understand if you don't want kids given what happened with your father and everything. So I take responsibility of raising this baby and you won't have to worry about taking care of it. Does that work for you?”

“I did tell Ryan that I didn't want to have kids but you didn’t hear the whole thing.” Rip placed the test in his pocket before cupping my face in his hands. His soft black eyes focused on me. “I told him I sure as hell can’t imagine having kids with anyone else but you.”

“You did. But I thought - you've always said you hated dogs and dealing with kids.” My mouth fell opened in shock thinking I might be hearing him wrong.

He wiped away some tears that slipped down my face. “When I first saw you walk up to Mr. Dutton and ask for a job without any hint of nervousness. I knew you were the one for me. I'd go through anything and do anything for you as long as it meant that my tomorrow's are yours. That you'd let me call you my wife and possibly have a couple of kids together.”

“Rip, I love you. And I’d be your wife with or without a marriage license as long as it gives me you until the day we are in the dirt.” I declare wrapping my arms around his neck leaning up on my toes and connecting our lips together in a slow kiss.

Rip wrapped his arms around my waist deepening the kiss that we didn’t break until we needed air so he rested his head against mine. “I love you too, Y/n. Now how about we go cook up some dinner before I have to leave tomorrow morning.” Grasping his hand in mine we walked through the front door together and began discussing our new life of becoming parents.

[antiquatedhag]

Deity work, worship, etc,,in the modern day; fuck around and find out edition.

Offerings:

Don’t know what to offer the gods? Well, fuck around and find out. “Does (this god) like this tea? Or this type of chocolate?” Well, why don’t you find out? Sure, there can be some things deities don’t like, but there’s only one way to find out and that’s trial and error.

Maybe Hermes likes you to blog in his honour, perhaps that can be an offering. Or rather, make a collage for Athena. The last bite of your food can be an offering. The dollar you found outside the supermarket can be an offering. A cup of tea can be an offering. A simple slice of bread or cup of strawberry milk will work just fine! Work with what you have is most important to understand.

Sacrifice:

Sacrifice can hold different meanings. It’s not simply about killing something, it’s about letting go of something out of love for another (a deity). Or hell, it could even be the sacrifice of a fake animal. Make one out of clay and smash it on your altar, draw a picture of one and then burn it. A sacrifice is a sacrifice. Alternatively, sacrifice maybe five dollars or ten buying something for a deity you love.

Devotional acts:

“Can this be a devotional act?” Well, did you put love and intent and purpose into doing something for a deity, does it relate to their domain or something UPG you see in them? Then it’s a devotional act. Just do it. They appreciate it. You don’t need permission.

Honouring:

It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just cook your dinner in honour of Hestia, speak a little prayer to her as you boil a pot of water or microwave some chicken nuggets. Paint the ocean in honour of Poseidon, or bask in the sun in honour of Apollo. You’re allowed to keep it simple. You’re allowed to honour their domains in a most simple or most complicated way as you like.

Prayer:

Don’t feel bad if your mind houses racing thoughts as you pray, or if intrusive thoughts let you down. For one, the gods can differentiate different types of thoughts, and they will understand what is for them and what is a case of your mind going against you, they’re intelligent higher beings, of course they know and understand. Secondly, it’s okay to have racing thoughts that interrupt prayer, just accept them and then send them on their way. Again, the gods understand. Just take a deep breath, and focus on intent. They will hear it.

Prayer should not be difficult. Invoke them by saying their name, what pantheon they’re from if you work with several, and list names they go by such as epithets, or places they were most revered. Example of how I do it:

“Most lovely lady Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love and beauty, of compassion and war, hear me, Aphrodite ourania, and whatever other names you may like. I pray to you-“

Or

“Lord Hermes, overseer of trade and travellers, god of cunning, thievery, language and much more, lord of Peloponnese, bearer of the winged shoes, hear my words-“

There are many more formats to recite prayer in, but these are just my personal examples.

Here’s an example from the Iliad:

“Hear me, Apollo! God of the silver bow

Who strides the walls of Chryse and Cilla sacrosanct—

Lord in power of Tenedos—Smintheus, god of the plague!

If I ever roofed a shrine to please your heart,

Every burned the long rich bones of bulls and goats

On your holy altar, now, now bring my prayer to pass.”

With all that being said, our practice shouldn’t be hard. And sometimes, you just have to fuck around and find out. Try things, see how it goes.

[queenofqueensarcheron]

THE REASONS WHY I DISLIKE ELAIN ARCHERON (AS OF NOW)

Book 1:

It’s mostly when Feyre comes back from the spring court and she tells her that Nesta scares all of her new friends away. She must know that something happened between Nesta and Tomas. She was probably in the cabin with their father when Nesta came back with a ripped dress.

Nesta was also the only one in the house to not have suffered from the glamour. Meaning that for WEEKS Nesta was telling herself she wasn’t crazy and that Feyre wasn’t actually at their auntie’s house, but taken by the fae. And yet Elain probably never asked her how she felt, because it didn’t touch or revolve around her directly.

When she told Feyre that Nesta is scary for her new friends (bear in mind, everyone babies Elain, not just Nesta) nobody asked themselves what might have happened. And just left her there because we all know that tough Nesta doesn’t need worrying. 😒

Book 2:

When Rhys and co comes to the new manor and ask the sisters of they want to come to Velaris since the human lands are too dangerous for them. Nesta asked Elain what she wanted, since Elain was engaged to her fae hating man. But nobody asked Nesta what she wanted. Elain could be safe with her fiancé, but if the war were to come, nobody would come and protect Nesta.

Elain never asked to herself or out loud whether or not it would be good for Nesta to stay or should she go to Velaris. It was convenient for Elain to keep Nesta with her. She would have her sister AND her fiancé to protect her. But then again god forbid we wonder and care about tough Nesta. Because we don’t.

Book 3:

Elain did not do much in this book ngl.

Book 4

When Feyre asked Elain if it was worth the “trouble” getting Nesta for Solstice. And Elain had the guts to ask if Nesta was still a part of this family when Nesta herself is the one who was there for Elain when girlie was catatonic and suicidal. Nesta was going through a very hard time but she was definitely not against seeing her sisters from time to time. She just didn’t want to hang out with the IC who openly hated her (still do.)

Elain had the guts to tell Feyre that getting Nesta to attend is not worth the trouble.

Book 5:

[BUCKLE UP WITH THIS ONE]

Elain going behind Nesta’s back to pack her things when she was “given a choice” when it clearly wasn’t a choice. If it was truly a choice why did

1- Feyre told her that if they had to chained her, they would and

2- why did they send her clothes DIRECTLY to the house???

If it was truly a choice, would they not wait to get Nesta’s answer before moving her things. Like where would they actually move her things. Or would let Nesta move her things ALONE.

When Elain came and visit Nesta no matter how good the intentions were, she by far did not help. Elain has spent the majority of her life hiding behind Nesta. And yet acts surprised when Nesta who is HEAVILY depressed snaps back. And she snaps back because yet again, someone doesn’t respect her boundaries. Nesta states very clearly that she does not want to talk about their father, and yet Elain pushes.

And when Nesta lashed out, she went running to big protective Rhysand. Did she not understand how bad it could have been for Nesta?? It doesn’t take a genius to understand that Rhys LOATHES Nesta and would love to wash his hands of her.

You do that to the sisters was there for you FOR MONTHS when nobody else was. She was acting like the barrier between you and the mate you want nothing to do with. She protected you when you were catatonic, and this is how you treat her when she’s the one who needs a hand???? NASTY. JUST NASTY BEHAVIOUR

And when they were talking about the trove and Elain told everyone they would use her and Nesta refused, and Elain snapped(like I get it, you’re tired of everyone babying you) and says “all you are ever thinking is what my trauma did to you” EXCUSE ME NOW?!????

Miss girl take a fucking seat pls for my own sanity.

You are dumb to think the IC would risk your life when your very expandable sister is there.

When she scried for the second time after her nightmare, and Rhys FELT her trauma, was Elain there? No. Did anyone ask her or apologized to her? NOOO

AND THEN on top of that, when Nesta went to find the mask and got SA’d on the way. All these people were doing was judging and making fun of her. Elain wasn’t there, bby girl, your sister risked her life YET AGAIN and almost died and where are you???? Had it been the opposite, Nesta would have raged time and space to get to her. And yet Elain is unable to show a single ounce of emotion for Nesta.

Nobody came to visit her besides Cassian (also fuck him for what he did in that room)

NOBODY ASKED HER IF SHE WAS OK?? 😭

Then the whole thing with the pregnancy. Everyone hates Nesta for telling the truth to Feyre but no one bats an eye for the people who kept the secret WHILE LIVING with the poor woman. Nesta was depressed, angry, alone and very much stuck in the HoW. Sure she should have said f u Rhys, I’m telling my sister. But Elain was legit living with Feyre and told her nothing and pretty sure had to lie to her. Feyre would have had way more conversations about her baby with Elain, somebody she would see everyday compared to the sister they decided to lock up and only let out when she was needed for dangerous missions.

Elain probably lied and gave false hope to Feyre. Rhys and his IC decided to keep the truth away from her KNOWING Feyre asked to never be lied to and Rhys fucking agreed a promised.

During Solstice when Nesta arrived and Elain had to open her mouth so Nesta had to tell her to shut up. LIKE YESS! You can laugh, but honestly Nesta wasn’t invited to this part until like .243 seconds ago so take a seat and be happy your sister is doing better, because it’s certainly not because of you.

Nesta gets kidnapped and nobody besides Cassian has any reaction. Feyre is more interested in Eris than her own sister. BFFR. Elain is as usual nowhere to be found. Nesta comes back to a week of “Prythian’s Hunger Games” UNMAKE someone, saves the day and nobody asks her how she is? Nobody thanks her (besides Rhys) nobody is looking to see if she’s injured?? No fuck her. She’s tough she’s fine we don’t care.

Anyways thats the big lines on why I dislike Elain Archeron. And I’m excited for her book cause girlie needs to have a character arc and not just the word “pretty” following her.