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#I always wonder why the ended up being cut
nightgoodomens · 2 days
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What do you think of what has happened in the last few days? Idk why but I'm sensing a shift in the dynamic of the 4 of them…
Well I can only guess…
This is going to be long:
Let’s look at the last few months.
So I did say from the beginning that the wives thing is nothing but pure promo for AL’s photoshoot. GT must have been asked to do it until BAFTAs because that’s when it stopped, and while AL tried to keep it going, GT cut her off very quickly - she was reposting her sometimes but not playing the wives tag game anymore. And then it stopped completely.
But anyway. I don’t think DT is a fan of AL. So either he put his foot down and said he doesn’t want her in the sketch, or… maybe she was meant to have a job by then and be gone. It would explain why she was not included in BAFTAs and why the wives thing ended right then too. And also why she was excluded from The Way. Let’s be honest here, she was excluded big time. It’s like… she wasn’t meant to be there anymore.
AL was clearly bothered. She snapped at a fan, she obsessively posted and reposted that she was there, she later whined about being dissed from The Way too. I sort of wondered whether she was under impression that she’d have more screen time and it was cut out, because she whined about people noticing the second she was left with as if there was meant to be more. It was all sort of bizarre since the producer was… her boyfriend. Like… go complain to him? Why you’re looking for attention from his fans?
So perhaps she was not meant to be there because of starting a career that… never actually happened so suddenly her heart “grew fonder” and she jumped on the love train of MS instead. It’s just so… blatant.
She tried to pull GT into more promo but GT didn’t play along. GT promoted The Way because she was involved, and there were those two selfies for The Nye from DT that felt like he posted.
DT sorted out an agent for GT with all the promo (including major PR at the BAFTAs) and AL did not even congratulate her “wife”.
And, and I hope it was on purpose because that’s the funniest shit AL has ever done - when GT posted her chocolate content, AL went on Twitter, found MS/DT photoshops, and retweeted it with “excellent content”. Ouch!
Let’s also note that AL even promoted BAFTAs when she got a seat from DT but now when he’s accomplishing other things but she doesn’t get anything out of it… Crickets.
So we agree this wives and family bullshit is over right.
AL keeps on trying with MS to prove they’re totally in love, but he’s giving nothing so it’s not working. She notes she’s alone, he makes a point to stay with fans every night or at the bar. I’d get the hint. This is on top of miserable selfies, not doing photos with her for Nye press night, and then liking a tweet from some “actress” chic after not liking anything from “fans” for a long time. Ai ai.
I think Michael has been done for a long time.
So there’s that.
Then we have GT and DT.
DT as usual is taking all jobs possible, perhaps to stay away from home, perhaps he just loves and needs to work. The rumour always was that he’d take anything to stay away from home. I don’t know. When GT posts videos, I can see that.
He seems to be on top right now. Which I’m super happy about. Perhaps his wife isn’t though.
She happily got snogged on the red carpet on his big day, and had articles about her on his big day too, she happily accepted him sorting out his agent for her, she also played along with the whole family thing etc when she needed an agent, now that she got what she wanted… Crickets.
Funny how it works with these ladies, eh?
We have him dragged to promote her family, put up like a puppet for a photo, and she writes a sweet post about the cousin. Before that, he’s told to do a dumbass video because her followers totally need to see it! He makes it clear he doesn’t want to do it, she has him do it anyway. Meh.
Next day, he wins a prestigious award.
Silence. For him. Because bestie got a sweet post for her birthday. DT? Nothing. When she finally posts it’s a repost and she tags the wrong awards. Then posts about being on a concert. Next day someone had to tell her she fucked up so she posts the same but takes the wrong tag off.
Still not a single word of affection. Or a joke she fucked up. You know, a fraction of what she gave her cousin, and used DT for, or what she did for her bestie. But no.
So, I don’t know. Is she jealous? She always kept him low, suddenly he’s gaining confidence thanks to MS, scoring great jobs, winning fantastic awards. She’s losing control.
Or are they fighting? Or is he already done?
I don’t know. But the fact that MS’s MOM posted before DT’s wife… and when GT eventually did she made a point to make it completely underwhelming… especially compared to what else she posted… well if she wanted us to notice it, she did.
I don’t know if DT not being there for the award has something to do with everything that’s been happening, I’m more likely to believe that he simply had work conflict.
It’s just… I see this image of a bloke who spent his whole career trying to sort something out for GT, when his big day happens he makes it about her and MS, and AL uses him too, and then when he accomplishes things…
Crickets. From all of them.
Well. Apart from mama Sheen.
It’s sad really. He deserves better.
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nenilein · 2 days
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Hello! Apologies for sending an ask out of the blue but considering your familiarity with localisation differences in persona 4/golden, I was wondering if anything comes to your mind regarding this aspect and how the game depicts queerness and queer themes? Thank you!
Heya! Don't worry, I was thinking people would probably ask stuff like this. After all, I already replied to somebody's tags asking this same thing previously, but I know not many people saw that, so let me use the chance to go into more detail:
Unfortunately, Persona 4's treatment of queer themes is not a result of the translation. The only things that were down to translation choices were small things, such as which pronouns are used in which situation (because Japanese does not at all have the same concept of third person pronouns as English, and the way first person classifiers that mean "I" work is very complex and a lot more vibes-based than actually tied to gender.)
But for the most part, everything is pretty much the same. Kanji's reaction to Chie mumbling about something being "off" about how he interacted with Naoto that first time, the tent scene, Yosuke's extreme insecurity in his own sexuality in addition to everyone else's... I think maybe the only thing that's a biiit better in Japanese is that Teddie is kiiinda genderfluid in Japanese, with the artbook outright stating that he doesn't necessarily consider himself "male" when he's in his bear form, unless it's necessary for a joke.
A lot of this can be traced to the really odd relationship the game's director, Katsura Hashino, has to queer themes. In interviews about Catherine Fullbody (a game which infamously has a rather weirdly handled gay romance route which, however, is notably also the only romance route in the game that cannot possibly result in a bad ending), he talks about how he's always admired queer people for being "strong" and wanted to write queer stories, but couldn't really do it until Fullbody because Atlus higher ups were afraid of backlash from the fans.
Traces of this are actually seen in Persona 4 Vanilla's data, where remnants of a surprisingly well done romance route for YOSUKE, of all people, are still present. That route made it far enough into development to have voiced lines in both, English and Japanese. However, it was dummied out in the final game and its script content was removed. Yosuke STILL has the "girlfriend flag" in the code that all the female romance options also have, but in the finished game it only checks whether you can hug him during his social link or not. Everything else was dummied out. You can still find the voice files on the cutting room floor if you want:
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And yes, the "I like you" line is unambiguously romantic in Japanese. His wording is very hard to misinterpret.
However, in the finished game and the rest of the franchise Yosuke's bisexuality was reduced to an in-joke of the developers. It's most poignant in Persona Q (the first one), where if you get the "marriage" scene with Yosuke in the second dungeon, his reactions differ WILDLY depending on which Protagonist you are playing as, far more than other male characters. With Makoto Yuki he acts nonchallant and deadpan about it. With Yu Narukami he acts like a blushy Tsundere and panics constantly. So, yeah.
Okay, so, if the director had interest in writing queer stories since before Persona 4, why is Persona 4 the way it is then?
Well, because - and there's no way around it - he sucks at it.
Katsura Hashino has to be one of the clumsiest "gay activists" I've ever seen in my whole darn life. He finds queer people "cool", but seemingly never had any queer writers or sensitivity readers on his teams and it's caused enormous blunders in how these themes have been handled. For example, when after Persona 3 it was pointed out to him that the writing of the female characters in interaction with the male characters was bad, he immediately hired more female writers and gave them free reign for how to handle the female characters from then on out. But apparently the same thing never happened with his mishandling of queer themes. He wants Catherine's Erica and Rin to be empowering figures for trans women and gay men, but makes a lot of blunders in how he has other characters interact with them to the point it buries his good intentions. Erica's boyfriend having gay panic upon realizing she's trans is treated as "funny and cute", even by Erica herself. Rin technically being a monogender alien really undermines his story of becoming more secure in his sexuality. It goes on and on like that.
The intention with Naoto's story was to point out the extreme sexism in Japanese society and how it forces female nerds to find alternate modes of self-expression, but the clumsy choice of including surgery themes in Naoto's dungeon completely buried that for especially western queer audiences. Most people don't even remember Naoto's dungeon was outright modeled after a Kamen Rider villain hideout. They completely shot themselves in the foot with this one. Additionally, the way Naoto is handled AFTER the dungeon makes her (I'm using that pronoun because she calls herself a "woman" in Japanese in the game) seem more like someone who's on the verge of discovering they are X-gender (the japanese word for "nonbinary") than a repressed girl. Like, right down to how she has Rise help her experiment with clothes in the canonical drama CDs only to realize she really is uncomfortable with skirts and go for an androgynous but less restrictive look going forward. The way she dresses in the Golden epilogue and P4D is pretty X-gender core if you ask me. If they had leaned into that they could have genuinely have had something AMAZING, while also presenting the themes of sexism they wanted to explore, but the lack of queer sensitivity readers kind of ruined it.
Same for Kanji. The way they write him makes it seem like he's bisexual or pansexual, rather than straight, but they kinda shove that part of him aside after his dungeon is done, leaving his actual orientation up in the air and wasting a really good chance for representation. NOW, given what happened to Yosuke's social link, it's quite possible the original intent WAS to explore this more and it got cut, but as it stands, we'll never know. The huge problem of the internalized toxic stereotypes his Shadow presented never being reflected on and put into their right context in the rest of the game, when his social link could've given a great opportunity for that is also a huge shame.
All of this happened because of Atlus being unwilling to let their writers go all out with queer themes in fears of alienating a cishet audience AND because Hashino never sat his writing team down with any actual queer writers to sort this shit out and learn how to get across what the team was ACTUALLY trying to say. Now, given, Persona 4 was far from the only Japanese media property with that exact issue at the time, but it hurts especially much in its case because of the game's themes of exploring the truth to its logical conclusion, as well as psychology. These are issues that a remake REALLY would do well to address and correct. I feel like they actually will HAVE to do that, because sensitivity readers have become the NORM in handling these themes now in Japanese media, rather than the exception. You can thank trail blazing mainstream works like Zombie Land Saga for that.
All in all, Persona 4's handling of queer themes is an exercise in frustration that I hope is corrected soon.
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sparrowrye · 1 day
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Demi Demo || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 19
Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.
Previous part
Part 19: magic or not
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I was left alone.
No amount of screaming or silence got anyone's attention. The pain contorted my body, my veins pulsing like needles, and spine spasming. I slammed the back of my back against the wall to get the headband off but it did nothing. There was nothing vital on that side to make it break or fall off. It only made my head hurt more.
Tears streamed down my cheeks until I had no energy left, slumping to one side against my arm. My body twitched and convulsed, but I had no energy left to do anything about it. My vision darkened as my lungs lacked precious oxygen.
Something stirred inside me. It felt like a thread being unwrapped. It was magic related, I could tell, but I didn't know what exactly was happening to me. I worried what would happen next but there was nothing to do except wait.
The feeling happened again. It was in the back of my mind, as if it wasn't actually part of me. I wondered if it was supposed to be freeing but it didn't quite have that effect. It tickled the inside of my mind and body, nothing else.
I thought back to Alastor. I might end up killing us both. Why was I always failing? I had been successful my entire life up until I met him. I had defeated all my opponents yet now I barely managed to kill a single powerful Demon. It took so much effort just to kill Striker and he wasn't even a true Overlord.
I thought to when I first tasted his blood in the kitchen. I could almost feel his hands in my hair again, gently tugging on it to get me to stop. I remembered dancing with him in the living room. He had held true to his promise and hadn't made fun of me. He had finally revealed parts of himself and his past.
I remembered when he kissed me. I remembered how warm I had felt. His lips had been oddly soft and his earthy scent made me feel like I was supposed to be there, supposed to be next to him.
Guilt gnawed at me. He had probably been honest. He was probably telling me the truth when we were talking after the fact. Had he actually fallen in love with me? When had that happened?
I remembered his hand on my shoulder as we argued with the Vees. I had felt confident with him there. Even when Vox taunted him, I still felt somewhat confident. The two of us. Together. If people feared me as much as they feared him, I would never find myself in this kind of situation again. People would never come near us or the haven.
Yet here I was, trapped and helpless. All from my own doing. And now I would lose Reagan because of it.
As much as I hated needing him, I wished Alastor was here to help.
As if hearing my plea, he melted out of my shadow and came to stand in front of me. I felt his cold claws lift my face as the headband broke into pieces. It clattered to the floor and my magic gradually came back. Alcine finally came out of my normal shadow.
"Blood," I murmured. An instant later his black blood touched my lips. I lazily ran my tongue along the cut on his palm and tried to bite down, but failed. My physical energy was still gone. My jaw was weak from clenching it so tight for so long, making it next to impossible to press my teeth further into the wound.
He attempted to make it deeper, the blood falling faster, but even my tongue and lips couldn't move very fast. My arms suddenly dropped from the chains and I let out a cry of pain. I fell back against the wall, foot claws sliding out from underneath, still shackled to the floor.
My head lolled to the side and if it wasn't for his hand I would've fallen over on my side. I tried calling on the shadow souls for energy but it was as slow as my physical movements. Just breathing hurt.
"My apologies dear." His other hand lifted my chin as his presence went straight through my shields and filled my entire mind with him. Green filled my vision as his hot magic seeped into my veins. His magic blended with mine, twisting and melding it into something else.
I didn't realize until I felt his blood soothing my aching throat that he was kissing me. His own blood pressed through his teeth and straight into my mouth. My body lurched forward as the combination of all kinds of magic took hold of me. My body buzzed with our shared energy as a magenta color spun around us.
He broke the kiss and I snapped the chains off my feet. I pushed off the wall with newfound energy. Anger coursed through me as Blackwater opened the door, his shadow stretching across the floor to sit at my feet.
Alastor's shadow suddenly disappeared and half my energy went with it. What just happened? I leaned on Alastor for support as he bristled at the new threat.
"Nice to finally meet you, Alastor." He closed the door behind him but didn't come any closer. Something was wrong. My magic was gone as quickly as it had been gifted back. I could feel Alastor's magic just out of reach, too.
"Blackwater, I presume." Alastor spoke as if nothing had happened, as if his magic wasn't just striped from his fingers. His glaring eyes paired perfectly with his smile.
"You'd be correct. Like my new invention?" He raised his hands to the ceiling. "Why be restricted to just a headband when I can turn it into a whole room? Now, we're just two equal men."
"I'm afraid magic isn't what puts you on the same level as someone," Alastor answered. "You have yet to prove yourself as my equal, and I'll have you know, no one has gotten there."
"Not even your precious soulmate?" He nodded his head to me, hands back in his pockets.
Alastor's grip on my shoulder tightened. "You have my attention, Blackwater. So what would you like to do with it?"
The man let out a chuckle. "Keep you out of my way." He threw his hand out of his pocket and sent a blaze of fire at us. We both pushed the other away as the fire split us, the flames nearly reaching the ceiling. Alastor used his cane to stand up and face Blackwater.
I ran at the man first but he casted wind to throw me back against the wall. A small crack popped in back as I slid to the floor. How was he using magic but ours was gone? How was he even using magic at all? He wore no metal backpack.
Alastor's form was entirely black through the flames, smile wicked and wide open as Blackwater casted again. I stayed on all fours and ran along the edges of the room. It caught Blackwater's attention long enough for Alastor to move. The man threw me head first into the wall before Alastor managed to impale the back of his shoulder with his claws.
Blackwater cried out and casted water over Alastor's head. He wrenched his claws out of Blackwater's body and tried to bat the water away. It stayed wrapped around his head, preventing him from breathing.
World spinning, I pushed off the wall and threw my body into his legs. He fell backwards over me and slammed his head into the floor. I closed my eyes to keep myself from getting sick, grabbed at his coat, and buried my claws in his leg.
He screamed and casted fire at my face. Alastor just barely managed to pull me back by my collar. The heat grazed my face as I fell back on top of him. I shook my head, world orienting itself right, and watched Blackwater struggle to his one good foot.
I got back on all fours and zig zagged. I jumped over the casts of fire and went his wind, using its momentum to move faster along the edge of the room. Alastor grabbed his cane before moving towards Blackwater. His main concern was obviously Alastor as he ignored me to cast at him.
I jumped for his feet again, sliding across the floor and knocking him down a second time. I stood up against the door, barely avoiding the wave of fire he casted up. He rolled onto his feet, hands up again.
Alastor pointed his cane at Blackwater but did nothing. They stared at each other, both breathing heavily from the fight. I looked to the door that was partially melting away. I took one step back and threw my body into the lower half.
It folded against my weight and I slipped out the hole. My magic immediately came back to me like fresh air. I quickly casted an illusion on Blackwater to allow Alastor time to snake out of the room.
Something cold wrapped around my throat and hoisted me to my feet. Alastor froze in place as he eyed the person restraining me.
"Don't come any closer!" Finn yelled in my ear. He took several steps back then held a knife right over my heart. "It'll end you both. Don't test me!"
I noticed Alastor's shadow on his wrist before he did. The shadow pulled his hand away from my heart and threw him over the railing. His yell was cut short when he landed on something that splintered apart.
Alastor raised his hands and the sound of large metal screeching echoed through the warehouse. I could feel exactly what he was doing with his magic. The earth opened its mouth and was slowly swallowing the entire building. He punctured gas pipes and lit them aflame, casting everything in a huge, hot orange fire.
"Reagan. Reagan!" I looked around the warehouse. Where did he take her? Where was he? We both turned to see the room empty save for puddles of blood.
Then I heard Reagan. I heard her yelling my name and pounding on a door. I followed the sound, avoiding the collapsing metal beams and blowtorched gas lines. My entire body was sweating and muscles aching.
I found the door she was hitting on. I bent the metal door handle and yanked it open. She immediately wrapped her arms around me, nearly sending us over the railing like Finn. I enclosed her in my own arms and accepted Alastor's hand.
He took us through the shadows far away from the warehouse. Reagan refused to let go of me even once we touched the ground. Alastor looked through the trees and bent the building further into the chasm he had created, the earth successfully swallowing it whole.
Then all was silent.
Alastor kept his gaze on where the building had been. Reagan kept her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I kept my eyes on Alastor's back and my hand on her shoulder.
"Alastor," I breathed. His ear twitched and he turned his head just slightly to look at me over his shoulder. "Thank you."
He glanced at the now empty clearing. "A thank you is in order for you, as well." He finally turned to face us, eyes briefly looking at Reagan's crying form. "I will send you two back. I must stay here a while longer."
I nodded, understanding perfectly why he needed to do that. He reached over to push a collection of hair out of my face, knuckles gently grazing my cheek. A moment later, we were back in the center of the Haven.
****
Blackwater pushed everything he had into the latch. It groaned open, weeds snapping and dirt crumbling into the manhole. He put a knee up on the surface and leaned into his shoulder to open the latch the rest of the way. He fell forward, cheek hitting the soft grass.
He laid like that for a while, pain radiating through his chest and shoulders. His team of six were all nursing their own injuries back to health.
"You alright, sir?" Finn knelt beside him. He accepted the help to sit up, groaning as he did. "What do we do now?" He helped Blackwater shed his bloodied coat. The sacks of blood taped on the inside were empty now, one of them with claw sized holes. Finn carefully took the tubes out of the back of Blackwater's arms and tossed the mess to the side.
"We recover and try again." Blackwater held a hand over his heart despite the pain being in the back of his shoulder. How close had Alastor been to impaling his heart from behind?
"I need a scout," Finn ordered, looking to see who was the least injured. One of his arms was completely immobile and he was holding himself up at a funny angle, probably from the fall.
Blackwater wasn't one for accepting help, let alone working as a team rather than as a command. Yet he was grateful to have Finn with him. The man had joined him when he was just a teenager and has never come back from a job empty handed or unsuccessful in some way.
Finn ordered the scout to run to the nearest village to get contact. The nearest Blackwater asset would send a team with magic to come get them. They just had to last until then.
It was well into the afternoon by the time their team arrived. He had lost two men in the meantime. The healer fixed Blackwater first before moving to the others who were still alive.
He stood up and snatched a phone from the nearest person, tossing it into Finn's lap so he wouldn't fumble it like he did with Python's blood.
"Get the damn doctor on the phone," he ordered, turning to look at the injured group. "Tell him his timeframe just got shorter."
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Author's Note:
Alakazam!
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angstywaifu · 3 days
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You Think I Wanted This? Dain Aetos x Reader
Prompt - “You think I of all people wanted to fall in love with you?” by @fw-gt
A/N: For a prompt for a character I never thought I would write, I am honestly really happy with this. So I hope all you Dain girls like this. Pre Warning though, there is no happy ending. This is just Dain angst. So enjoy if thats you thing? As always requests are open if you want to suggest anything.
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It was so hard to keep my focus on Devera and Markham who were talking about one of the current issues on our borders. I could feel his eyes on me and the bruise and cut on my eye. My squad had come back from our RSC interrogation training late last night. We had been told to let our injuries heal naturally if they weren’t life threatening. So here I sat in battle brief, with my squad, with very visible and notable injuries.
Most of the other riders had ignored it after our arrival back at formation this morning. But not him. I had felt his eyes on me as soon as I had taken my place in the rotunda. Had felt them in the corridors as our squads crossed paths. And I knew if I looked to my right I would meet the sandy brown eyes of Dain who sat a few seats away with his squad mates. His squad had yet to be taken for interrogation training. But we had seen enough come and go to know what it entailed. Knew from the injuries the other second years had returned with what awaited us. And yet I had felt his eyes on me all morning. I knew I wasn’t the only one. A few rows behind me I knew my closest friends were watching him as well. Probably wondering why Dain was watching me like a hawk.
Dain and I had become friends somehow. Somehow he trusted me unlike the other marked ones. All the others he kept his distance from. Somehow that one challenge had changed everything. The challenge where we had gone all out as it was one of the last of the year. We had ended up sending each other the healers quadrant, both being deemed a stay over night. We had also been the only cadets there. The joys of giving each other concussions and a mender not being available to heal us fully till the next day.
With only each other for company, we had begrudgingly talked to each other. We had then stayed up till the early hours of the morning talking till a healer had told us off and demanded we get rest before being mended in the morning. From there it had spiralled. Late night sparring sessions, catching each other in the library while we studied. Keeping our new found friendship secret. Mainly for Dain’s sake than mine. I would definitely get a talking to from my friends, but Dain would have it far worse if his father found out he was friends with a marked one. A child of the rebellion.
But recently our friendship had changed. Something more teetering at the edges. Our library catch ups turned into study sessions in one of our rooms, our sparring sessions having a little extra tension when one of us managed to pin the other underneath us on the mat. I had started getting feelings for Dain. Very strong feelings for Dain. I would get jealous any time he doted after Violet, protecting her. But then my heart would do cartwheels whenever his eyes met mine. And my eyes would wander whenever I could see him during sparing and challenges. Admiring the way he handled himself, and honestly the view. Dain wasn’t as built with muscle as Xaden and Garrick were. But the amount he did have suited him perfectly.
I had fallen hard for Dain Aetos, as much as I had tried not to. I had fallen for someone that was considered my enemy. And I had to put a stop to it. Or at least get through the next year and a half where we would most likely get posted far away from each other and I would never see him again. Just another year and a half. In the distance the bell rings across the college, signalling the end of classes and the start of lunch. As I had been too out of it to unpack anything for the class I quickly grabbed my bag and rushed down the stairs. Away from Dain’s eyes. Very glad my spot in the room gave me a quicker escape than Dain who I had glimpsed fighting against the crowd to get to me.
I headed for my room, hoping Dain would head directly to the dining hall where most of the quadrant would go. Where I should be going seeing as I had slept through breakfast this morning. But clearly Dain knew me better than I thought. I had been so caught up in making it to my dorm room to change before challenges that I hadn’t heard the fast approaching steps. A yelp escaping my lips as a hand grabs my jacket sleeve and drags me behind a pillar. My eyes meeting the sandy brown eyes of Dain. His eyes are frantic as they take in my face properly. Focusing on the deep blues and purples around my eye, and the scar that extended from more fore head, narrowly missing my eye before ending halfway down my cheek.
”You should go see a healer.” He says as his eyes meet mine, his hand still grasping my jacket sleeve tightly.
”Not allowed to.” I say numbly as I cast my gaze away from his, feeling my cheeks starting to flush under his intense gaze.
I see his eyebrows furrow in annoyance, a slight tick in his jaw. “But you’re hurt. They can’t stop you. I’ll take you.” His hand releases my jacket as he goes to grab my hand.
I step backwards, his hand hanging in mid air where it went to grab mine. “I don’t need you to baby me like Violet. I’ll be fine.” I snap at him.
I hate myself as the words leave my mouth as he recoils. He had confided in me about his situation with Violet. From the kiss they had shared at Threshing, to the fights they’d had since she had arrived. He had confided in me about that, opened his heart to me and let me in. And I had just thrown it in his face. I knew he was just trying to help. But something in me had reared up at it. Telling me to shove it away. That I didn’t need his help. Didn’t need his pity. Didn’t want the help his name would bring if he took me over to the healers.
“I’m not trying to baby you. I know you’re different to Violet. But you’re hurt. You need healing.” He pleads to me as he steps towards me again.
”If I was out in the field I wouldn’t get healing. They’re just preparing us for when we leave.” I take a step back. I see the pain in his eyes as I step back, my words pushing him away. Maybe this was my way out. It pained me to do it, but I had to distance myself from him. Push the feelings I had away. I couldn’t be with someone like him. It would never work. Him the Colonels son, and me a marked one from the rebellion. A reminder of what happened. Our friendship would never leave this quadrant. “I don’t want your pity, and I don’t want healing the rest of my squad wont have available to them. I don’t want the privileges that come with your name.”
I go to push past him, my only avenue of escape. I had hoped my words would numb him. Stop any reaction he would have to me walking past him. But his hand reaches out and grasps my hand, spinning me around to him, his other hand cupping my cheek. His eyes go with with shock at the contact. I want to pull away, but its as if something is holding me there. Something willing me to not move. A connection. No. A presence? What was it. Whatever it is lets me go after a few seconds, Dain releasing his hold on me as he stumbles back. The shock still evident in his eyes. As if he has been told something he can’t quite believe.
”You love me.” He suddenly blurts out.
I stand there in shock as my own eyes go wide. How the hell did he know I had feelings for him? Wait. Did he say love? No. I just had strong feelings for him. Feelings I needed to get rid of. Feelings that shouldn’t exist. Feelings I was trying my best to get rid of by pushing him away. Feelings I had not told him about. But somehow he had know about them. Dain’s hand the had cupped my cheek still hovered in mid air as his eyes darted between it and me. Could Dain read my thoughts? It’s then I realise he has never told me his signet. That the patch on his uniform indicates classified. A mind reading signet that could only be activated by touch would definitely be one they would allow to stay. And one they would keep secret.
“No. No I don’t.” I tell him as I shake my head quickly.
”No you do. But you don’t want to.” He says with a sad tone to his voice as his eyes focus on me.
I swallow nervously as I stare back into his eyes. My suspicions confirmed. Dain could read thoughts at touch. And I had been practically screaming mine in my head as I had tried to push past him. I knew he hadn’t done it on purpose by the way he was reacting. But hard to ignore something when it is practically being yelled at you.
”You think I of all people wanted to fall in love with you? Gods I tried not to. I tried so hard.” I feel wetness on my cheek and realise I’ve started crying. “But I did. I fell so fucking hard for you it wasn’t funny. And I shouldn’t have. But here we are.”
”You make it sound like a bad thing.”
”Because it is Dain!” I yell, not caring who hears us now. “We shouldn’t even be friends. I should have ignored you that night in the healers quadrant. But I didn’t. I should have pushed you away when you sought me out after. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I didn’t want to push you away. But I should have. I should have ended this before I fell fucking fell for you.”
Dain just stares at me in shock. I swear I see some tears in his eyes as well. But unlike mine they dont stream down his face. He manages to keep his emotions in check.
”What if I fell for you to? What if I was dumb enough to fall for you to even though I knew I shouldn’t be?” He takes a step towards me.
I shake my head. “There is no what if, because even if you did Dain, nothing can come of it. This doesn’t end well for us in any scenario.”
He reaches out and takes my hand in his. He knows I will try to pull away as he links his fingers in mine and holds on tightly. “What if it did?” He asks softly, leaning down to rest his forehead on mine.
I close my eyes, not wanting to stare into his eyes that I know will have me succumbing to my emotions. I needed to push him away. I couldn’t let him in. I couldn’t go down this path. It only ended in heart break. It would not have a happy ending.
”We know it doesn’t Dain. Someone like you and someone like me don’t work together. We would constantly be hiding it. I don’t want that.” I say softly, still keeping my eyes closed.
I feel his breath across my face as he sighs. He knows I’m right. And I know he would constantly be torn between who he is, who his father is and me.
”We could just have this. Have us while we are here. Where we can hide it. Enjoy what time we have.” His voice pleads to me.
My breath comes out shaky. His grip on me tightening in response. “I can’t do that. I can’t do this knowing there’s an end date. I can’t Dain.”
I feel him nod. His movement causing mine to move with his. He knows I’m right. I open my eyes to see his sandy brown eyes already staring into mine. So much sadness in them. So much emotion in them. I know mine reflected the same. I wonder if he could sense my emotions with his signet, or if it was just past memories. Either way it didn’t matter. Everything was out in the open right now.
”Can I have one thing before you walk away? Before we go and pretend we don’t exist to each other any more?” He asks.
I nod at him, and in an instant his lips are on mine. I don’t even try to push him away. I let my emotions take over. Let my body do what I’ve wanted to do whenever he’s had me pinned underneath him on the training room mats. I grasp his jacket and pull him as close as I can as I deepen the kiss. His lips parting in response. His arms wrapping around me so tightly I don’t know where he ends and I start. The kiss is urgent and passionate, both of us knowing this will be the first and last time this happens. We pour all our emotions into it before shuffling feet has us breaking apart. No one could see us behind the pillar, but we couldn’t risk it. I can feel the tears threatening to flow again, so I push past Dain with ease this time as he lets me pass. Not daring to look back to see if he watches me go. But I know he does. I feel his eyes on my back like I had all day, but this time for a different reason.
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lovelornanonymity · 11 hours
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proclivity — part four — saviour complex
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↳PAIRING: rafe cameron x diabetic fem!reader
↳[4.9k] SUMMARY: at one point in time Rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?
↳ WARNINGS: mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, etc.
↳A/N: this is a repost from my old blog @illicitfixations. all of my works are being reposted to this one + the previous blog has been deactivated.
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As you pulled away from the kiss, panting, you searched Rafe’s eyes and only found solace in them. Why did this feel so right? Was it the greenhouse or the beauty of the plants surrounding you, the hues of green in the leaves that towered over your figure? Was it the romance or the pouring rain? You couldn’t put your finger on it and then, his blue eyes bore into yours and you could. It was Rafe. It was the man of your dreams kissing you at the college you’d both attend. You’d dreamed about this moment forever, thinking it would never really come and yet, you had your guard up, wondering when things got tough, if he’d run away again. 
“Rafe-” 
He kissed you passionately again, cutting off your words. 
“Rafe..” 
You placed your hands against his chest, pushing him away.
“What is it, sweet girl?” 
His tone was kind. It stung. You wanted him as close as you could get him, his sweet voice replaying over and over again in your ears forever.  
“I-, w-we can’t do this.” 
“What do you mean?” 
The hurt washed over his face and you immediately regretted the words that left your lips. 
“I’ve wanted this with you forever and-” 
Your words were cut off by Rafe once more, his pleading eyes, begging you not to let the moment end.
“Then, have it with me. I’m right here.” 
Before your brain could register its next move, the words were spewing out of your mouth at an aggressive volume.
“You have a reputation with girls, okay?” 
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He asks, accusingly. Though, the hurt laced in his blue eyes makes your chest tight. 
“It means I can’t be another one of your conquests. I can’t be another girl at a party or in your truck or on your lap in a golf cart if you’re not going to care about me next week.” 
You blurted out without thinking, really. But, you can’t deny the words – you meant them. The truth was, you had been that girl, minus the sex, you’d been his girl and then one day, like whiplash after a car accident, you’d woken up and he was gone. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle that again.  
“Is that what you think of me?” 
His head hung low as he whispered. Before you were able to reply, your thoughts were quickly shoved away when the dinging of your phone erupted from within your backpack that still sat on Rafe’s shoulders. His features softened as yours fell. 
“You feel okay? Is that the tone for your blood sugar?” 
He asks gently. 
“It always does some stupid shit at the worst conceivable time.” 
He could tell you beat yourself about it, your illness. He wondered why, no one could help being sick. Who had made you feel like it was a problem? You looked down at your phone as Rafe handed it to you and realized your blood sugar was fine, you perked up at that. But, mentally cursed at Topper’s contact flashing across your screen. 
“I’m okay, Rafe. Don’t worry. It’s just Top.” 
You gave him a reassuring smile and he returned it. The words from moments ago seemingly forgotten, at least for now. 
“Hello?” 
You asked, clearing the phlegm from your throat. 
“Hey, where are you guys?”
He questioned. 
“We’re in the arboretum.” 
You replied with the hint of a smile. 
“You and that fucking greenhouse, I swear. Okay, well. Let’s get a move on. It’s pouring rain and I’m ready to go home.” 
Topper’s attitude had hurt you more than usual and your smile quickly faltered. 
“O-okay. We’ll be there soon.” 
You spoke into the speaker, trying to keep your voice even as you ended the call. 
“Everything okay?” 
Rafe asked, hesitantly. 
“Yeah, Topper just being Topper. He’s ready to go home because of the rain.” 
You let out a defeated chuckle, eyes tracing to your feet. Rafe had heard what Topper said. You and that fucking greenhouse. Rafe never understood how Topper could be so tone deaf, such a fucking idiot. Why was loving beautiful things so wrong? 
“Okay.” 
Rafe nodded and led you out of the front door of the greenhouse. This time there was no hand on your back or smile from him and you had never craved his warmth so much. There were no words exchanged between the two of you, only your guilt eating away at your core and before you knew it you were back at the Jeep. Rafe didn’t open your door for you and at that revelation, you swallowed thickly and tears lined your eyes. You had ruined your one chance with him. Topper and Kelce were taken aback by the sudden rigidity between you and the Cameron boy, but knew better than to say anything about it. They only assumed the happiness was short lived and you’d go back to hating each other. The car ride was long and agonizing and after two hours of radio silence from Rafe, you were in shambles. So you did what any teenager with no self respect would, you texted him. 
Y: Can we talk? 
R: for what 
Y: i’m sorry 
R: why 
Y: I was mean and you didn’t deserve that, just got scared 
R: scared? Of what? 
Y: you. 
R: why would you be scared of me? 
Y: because I know what kind of hurt your absence can bring. 
He didn’t respond to the last text and you took that as the final nail in the coffin. You had fucked this up. This entire day was perfect until you opened your big fat dumb fucking mouth and now the intimacy, the closeness, the Rafe you had so desperately prayed for was slipping out of your grasp. You could almost cry, but you knew if you started you’d never stop. Brought out of your thoughts by Rafe’s gruff voice, you looked to him as he spoke to Topper. 
“Just go to Y/N’s house instead of mine.” 
Your face fell and you started to spiral, he had taken back his dinner invitation and you could no longer hold in your tears, scared he was going to go away again, this time maybe permanently. You simply couldn’t bear that pain again.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” 
Topper questioned, worry lacing his features as he took in the look on your face. 
“Yeah, m’fine.” 
The tone of your voice made the hair on the back of Rafe’s neck stand up. It was flat, in a broken, numb sort of way. He hadn’t heard you use that tone since the night he took Maggie Mills up to his room after a party. He never understood why that had upset you so much. He looked at you, watching as tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes and you stared at the floorboard of Top’s car. You couldn’t feel anything, numbness over taking your body. He placed his hand on your shoulder, begging you to look at him, but your eyes remained locked on the floor. You couldn’t face him, not now, not after you had ruined things with him, again. You were brought away from the sadness by the ding of your phone. It was Rafe, again. 
R: please tell me what’s wrong 
Y: isn’t it obvious 
R: no, please tell me 
Y: you don’t want me at dinner now. You don’t want me.
R: what? 
Rafe began to put two and two together and visibly winced at the fear he had struck within you. 
R: I just wanted you to have fresh clothes. I’m sorry, I should’ve said that. Please don’t cry, pretty girl. I’d never do that to you. 
You didn’t reply to his message, but he looked on as your body slowly began to relax and reached over, wiping the tears from your cheeks and giving you a subtle smile. You returned it. Rafe had always catered to your anxiety, but he hadn’t been around you in so long, he almost couldn’t recognize it when it overcame you. Topper pulled into your driveway soon after and you were quick to rush inside, slipping into a new dress, adorned with pale pink lilies, and grabbing extra insulin before making your way back out to the jeep and climbing in next to Rafe. You quickly unzipped the bag that sat in between the two of you and shoved the insulin inside and you looked down at your phone, checking your levels one more time. They were still fairly normal, reading at 85 mg. Rafe looked over your shoulder, making sure your levels were okay and he was pleased when he saw they were. He knew it had been a long time since you’d eaten and you needed real food soon. As the sound of Topper’s brakes bringing the car to a halt met your ears, you locked eyes with Rafe who hopped out of the car almost immediately. 
“Well boys, this was fun. I’ll see you two soon.” 
You say with a false cheek. 
“Bye, beautiful.” 
Kelce muttered, dragging out the “L” on his last word. Topper simply nodded his head in your direction, unsure of what was going on between you and Rafe, but too tired to ask questions. By the time you had said your goodbyes to both boys, Rafe had made his way around to the side of the car and opened your door, helping you out with the grasp of his hand. 
“Thanks, Rafe.” 
You whispered, looking at the ground, still too spooked to look him in the eye. 
“No problem, pretty girl.” 
He smiled in response to your gratitude and the both of you made your way into the house. 
“Rafe, is that you?” 
Rose called to him as you both entered the foyer. 
“Yeah, it’s us.” 
He called back to her. She quickly emerged from the kitchen, meeting you both in the huge room, giving her greetings and ushering you over to the table where you were met with your father’s disapproving eyes. 
“Honey! It’s so good to see you. I was wondering where you were all day.” 
Your mother chimed in, walking over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. 
“Hi, mama. Yeah, Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and I left early this morning to tour UNC. We made it back just in time for dinner.” 
“That’s wonderful, sweet girl! Did you love it?” 
She questioned. 
“Yes. Rafe took me to the greenhouse.” 
You smiled, but it quickly faded as you looked over at him, remembering the events that followed. He didn’t meet your gaze. 
“Rafe! Thank you, that’s been my girl’s dream for quite some time, being in that greenhouse, with you especially.” 
She smiled brightly in his direction and gave him a wink. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed at your mother’s outburst of too much fucking information. Rafe let out a low chuckle and your brother, Brock, opened his mouth to speak. 
“Hopefully she wasn’t too much trouble for you, today, Rafe.” 
He spoke, his tone demeaning. 
“She’s never any trouble, she’s my best girl.” 
Rafe responded in an even, joking tone, in an attempt to diffuse the situation before his temper got the best of him. His hand made its way to your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. When did your brother become such a dick and what gave him the right to speak about you like you weren’t in the room? The subject quickly changed as Rose and Ward began asking you and Rafe about the campus and your majors. 
“So, Y/N, what are you thinking of majoring in?” 
Ward questioned. 
“I’d like to go into English with a minor in entrepreneurship. I’d like to take some business classes, too, I think.” 
You responded. 
“That’s wonderful! Business and English are two things that will help you so much in the working world.” 
He replied, truly excited for you. He’s always been one of your favorite adults. 
“Yeah, thank you! I think so too.” 
You replied with a sweet smile. 
“You know, you could always intern at Cameron Development this summer and get some hands on training with Rafe, Brock, and I.” 
He suggested. 
“Thank you, Ward. I seriously would love that!” 
You smiled his way, unsure if you’d take him up on his offer. It would look good on college applications and it would mean more time with Rafe, those were both good things, right? 
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, y/n. I don’t know that you could handle the workload, what with your condition and all.” 
Brock said quickly with a sneer. You cast your eyes immediately down to where your hands sat in your lap. 
“What about you, Rafe?” 
Your mother questioned him, ignoring your brother. It hurt that they oftentimes bowed down to his asshole nature, not wanting to fight with him. Sometimes you just wanted to feel fought for.  
“Dad and I have been talking about me going to business school and running the company eventually.” 
Rafe replied quietly, still unsure he had heard Brock correctly. Because the guy he knew loved his sister, he wouldn’t be treating you like this, especially not in public. 
“Of course! You’re a smart young man, it’s only fitting. You have a bright future ahead of you.” 
She replied with a cheerful tone. 
“Thank you, that means so much coming from you.” 
He replied with a kind smile. He always loved your mother and her sweet words meant the world to him. The familiar beep of your glucose monitor brought your attention away from the conversation and toward your phone in your lap. Rafe watched you intently, reading the levels over your shoulder. 60mg. ‘That can’t be good’, he thought. 
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” 
He whispered into your ear and you met his eyes. 
“I’m not feeling good, but I’m fine. I need to eat soon or I'll pass out.” 
You responded, reassuring him. Even though you knew your levels were getting dangerously low. 
“How much longer on the food, Rose?” 
Rafe questioned. 
“About 5 minutes.” 
She smiled, letting him know it would be right out. Thirty seconds passed and the alert on your phone beeped loudly once more. You averted your gaze from your brother’s eyes and let out a sigh, but that didn’t stop his mouth from opening. 
“Not this shit again.” 
He spoke, boldly. 
“What did you just say?” 
Rafe’s tone was coated with venom, as he gave your brother a tight lipped smile, urging him to repeat himself, daring him to. 
“I’m just tired of the same shit everyday. She needs sugar, she needs insulin, blah, blah, blah. Everything is always about her.” 
He gritted out. 
“Oh you’re tired of it?! How the fuck do you think she feels?” 
Your father interjected, keeping his voice low, his kind honey-colored eyes becoming dark at Brock’s words. He’s clearly had enough. 
“Well, I’m sorry, this might not be my place. But, I don’t think she’s thrilled about it either and here she is dealing with it. It went off and she sighed, all she did was fucking sigh. She didn’t demand attention from everyone in the room. All she did was fucking sigh and you know what? She’s allowed to do that. She’s allowed to be frustrated about something that is wrong with her body. You could show some fucking compassion.” 
Rafe growled. 
“Rafael Joseph Cameron! Language!” 
Ward spoke Rafe’s full name, his tone laced with warning. 
“What dad?! You can’t let him talk about her like that!” 
He said, exasperatedly. 
“Ward, it’s really okay. He deserves to be bitched at.” 
Your mother spoke, sticking up for Rafe. 
“She’s a type one diabetic, not a fucking drug addict and i’ll be damned if I let you sit here and treat her like one.” 
At Rafe’s words the table fell silent. His father knew what the weight of his words carried, and now, so did you. Luckily for you, Rose served you your food first after the meal was done cooking and your sugar quickly went back up to normal levels, which was a giant relief to Rafe. Most of the dinner was silent after the conversation fizzled out. The words of your father affected you more than you cared to admit, yet not as much as Rafe’s. Rafe stood up for you in a room with two men that scared the shit out of you, all without batting an eye or worrying about a consequence. He stood up to his father for you and you knew you couldn’t just let that go. The conversations quickly became about business and Rafe watched as you mentally checked out, which probed his next question to you.
“Why don’t we go out on the pool, sweet girl?” 
You simply nodded in response, thankful to him for saving you from listening to your brother’s bullshit business plans any longer. Rafe helped you out of your chair and pushed it in behind you, leading you out the patio doors with his large hand placed on the small of your back. You quickly made your way to the pool, taking your shoes off and plunging your feet in as you sat on the edge of where the concrete met the blue lining. 
“You okay?” 
He asked, his cerulean eyes taking in your form. 
“Yeah, I am. Thank you for sticking up for me in there.” 
You gave him your best smile, even though he could see right through it. 
“How long has he been treating you that way?” 
“Since the day I came home from the hospital.” 
You whispered, but Rafe heard you, loud and clear. 
“Can you tell me about it? I mean, what happened when you got sick.” 
You swallowed thickly. Talking about your illness was easy but talking about it with Rafe was just different. He wasn’t there when you got sick and you resented him for it, but you also resented yourself for not giving him the opportunity to be. 
“It happened the Thursday after we stopped talking. I was with Topper, we were at the club, just swinging some golf balls and dicking around. He was with me everyday that week just to make sure I was handling things well and I wasn’t, so I’m glad I had him.” 
You said, with no particular emotion. 
“I’m sorry.” 
He whispered out, hanging his head in shame. 
“You don’t have to apologize Rafe, I’m not here to make you feel guilty. I just-, if I’m gonna tell you what happened, I have to tell the whole story.” 
You replied, trying to reassure him. 
“I know and I want to know everything.” 
He stated with a sheepish smile, nodding his head for you to continue. 
“I told Top I wasn’t feeling good that morning, but I thought it was just because I was hungover and when we went to play golf, I figured I’d be fine. But when we got to the third hole, I noticed that I was kinda nauseous and dizzy and my hands were shaking. I heard Top ask if I was okay before I hit the ground but I couldn’t register anything. Evidently he had called an ambulance because I woke up in the ICU three days later. They said I had a seizure and went into diabetic shock, which is when we found out I had type one.” 
You finished with a swirl of anxiety in your belly. 
“As much as it pains me to say this, I’m thankful you had Top.” 
Rafe smiled into his joke. His distaste for the closeness Topper shared with you had always been prevalent, but especially after the two of you had gone your separate ways. 
“Yeah, the funny thing is, I laid in that hospital bed for days willing myself to call you but I couldn’t do it.” 
You said suddenly. 
“I wish you would have.” 
Your eyes flickered up to meet his immediately. 
“I couldn’t do that to you. You decided you wanted a life without me in it and I respected that even if I didn’t understand it. I never wanted me being sick to be the reason you came back, I wanted you to come back because you wanted to. But it hurt like hell that I had to walk through that without you.” 
Rafe quickly pulled you in and wrapped his large hand around the back of your head, pooling your hair in his hands. He hugged you tightly and suddenly it felt like all the broken pieces of your heart had been mended. 
“I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Please, forgive me.” 
His voice broke as the words stumbled out of his mouth. He felt like there was no air in his lungs and all he knew was that he needed your forgiveness like he needed to breathe. He pulled back, holding you by your shoulders, looking to your eyes for confirmation of the hatred he was sure you felt for him, yet he couldn’t find it. 
“I forgave you a long time ago, Rafael.” 
You spoke softly, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster up. 
“Y/N, I need you to know that I’m never going to leave you again.” 
He said so sure – more sure of anything than he has ever been in his entire life. 
“I appreciate that Rafe and I hope it’s true. It’s just so hard for me to trust that.” 
You replied candidly. 
“I know and I’m going to work everyday to prove to you that you can trust me.” 
He responded, willing to do anything to prove that to you. 
“I hope you do.” 
He nodded, giving you the reassurance you needed. 
“So, uh, where’d you learn to kiss like that?” 
He asked, sheepishly, as he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck - one of his many nervous habits. His voice came out small and awkward and it made you laugh. 
“I don’t know, Cameron. Where did you learn to kiss like that?” 
Your eyes met, as you nudged his shoulder, which made him smile. 
“Lots of practice.” 
He replied and you visibly winced at the words that you had spoken to him earlier. You have a reputation with girls, okay? The hurt that laced his irises when the words left your lips would haunt you forever. 
“Hey, listen, about what I said earlier-” 
You began, but didn’t get to finish. 
“It’s okay, I deserved it.” 
He replied, his head hanging low. You gently lifted his chin, so his eyes met yours.
“You didn’t, not from me.” 
You said, very matter-of-factly. 
“What do you mean?” 
He asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. 
“I mean, I’ve always been your person – the one you tell anything to. It isn’t fair of me to project my shit onto you, so I’m sorry. That’s not what I think of you, Rafe and I need you to know that. I just got scared.” 
You replied, laying your heart directly in his hands. 
“Why are you so scared, sweet girl?” 
He wasn’t trying to pry, he just genuinely didn’t understand what you had to be afraid of, surely it wasn’t him. 
“I just-, I went through some things with JJ.” 
He nodded, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his brain.
“I see. You know you can talk to me, right? I mean – if you want to tell me, ya know, I’m the one you tell.” 
He replied, assurance laced in his blue orbs. 
“Yeah, I do and I will when I’m ready.” 
He nodded, taking your answer as gospel. He knew you’d tell him when you were ready. He quickly changed the subject.
“What days are you working this week?” 
He questioned. 
“Uh-, Tomorrow, Wednesday, and Friday. Why?” 
You asked, confused. 
“Is it okay if I come see you?” 
He questioned, voice sheepish, unable to make eye contact with you in fear of your rejection. That’s what all this has been about to begin with hasn’t it – the years away from you, the fear that he just wasn’t enough. 
“You can always come see me. But, why do you want to hang out at the club?” 
You smiled in his direction, noting how respectful it was for him not to just show up. 
“I am a member, you know?” 
He joked and flush filled your cheeks. Bold of you to assume he'd be there for you, you thought. He must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because he grabbed your hand and lifted your chin. 
“I want to spend time with you, silly girl and I can only gain your trust by spending all the time I can with you.” 
You smiled at him. 
“Thank you, Rafe. That’s sweet.” 
You looked in his eyes, thanking him for more than just his sweet words and he had no idea. 
-
You walked into the club at 4pm the next day, spotting Rafe immediately as he sat at the bar, waiting for your inevitable arrival. You were shocked to see him, even though he said he’d come. Truth be told, you hadn’t taken most of what Rafe Cameron said seriously in the last few years, but him showing up meant something to you. It meant more to you than you cared to admit.  After you clocked in and made your way behind the bar, your eyes met his. 
“Well, hey pretty girl.” 
He flashed you that Rafe Cameron smile and it was over. You were done for. 
“Hello, Rafael, to what do I owe this pleasure?” 
You said, smiling back at him. 
“Just wanted to hang out with my girl, that’s all.” 
He replied cheekily. You rolled your eyes playfully.
“She’s working.” 
You retorted, a fun-loving tone soaking your tongue, dispersing from him to check on your tables. You glanced his way a few times, only to be met with eyes studying your form. Your co-worker Emily made her way over to you, noticing his gaze. 
“So, why is Rafe Cameron being a creepy stalker and staring you down like a serial killer?” 
You chuckled, Emily or Em as she was known by her friends, had quite the knack for being dramatic. 
“Em, he is not a serial killer or creepy!” 
You yelped, rolling your eyes at her. 
“Whatever you say, angel. But, I better not see your face on the side of a milk carton any time soon.” 
You jokingly rolled your eyes at her and made your way back to the bar. You wanted to chat with Rafe for a bit while the club was slow, but he was heading out for the night and that stung a little. As he gathered his wallet and keys in his hands, you snuck up behind him, placing your arm at the small of his back. 
“You just gonna leave with no goodbye?” 
You smiled up at him, secretly hoping that wasn’t his intention. His face lit up at the sight of your smiling face beaming up at him and he relished in the feeling of your hand on his back, touching him like this. 
“No way, pretty girl. Never. Dad called and needed me home, something with Sarah.” 
He responded. 
“Okay. Well, be careful.” 
You replied. 
“Always am. You call if you need me to take you home, okay?” 
He asks, but it’s not a question. 
“Okay, Rafael. Be good.” 
You smiled at him, squeezing his hand before letting him go and watching him walk out the front door. The rest of the night drug by, Sundays were usually very busy with Kildare residents playing golf while heavily intoxicated, but most of the traffic died down around dinner time. It was your night to close so you were by yourself after Emily went home at 4 and that meant blasting Taylor Swift while you started closing the club down for the night. You wiped the tables down first, belting out the lyrics to your favorite Taylor song to date I Almost Do. You could remember it having a different meaning when you and Rafe had parted ways, singing it at the top of your lungs in your bedroom, willing yourself to pick up the phone and call him. Now, the words didn’t sting as much and instead, you just wanted to feel his warmth. It was no longer the song of your heart, now it was just another song. Those feelings seemed so far away and you couldn’t help but feel thankful. You were brought out of your thoughts by none other than JJ Maybank busting through the front door of the club and you knew this could only mean disaster. You locked eyes with him and that devilish smirk that he somehow always sported sent chills down your spine. 
“Miss me, angel?” 
He questioned, hiss in his tone. You ignored him, which you knew better than to do. You knew what it would do to him. You knew it drove him absolutely insane, but you did it anyway because it felt good. 
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” 
His yell echoed through the building and the fear that you remembered so well returned. 
“What, JJ? What do you want?” 
You scoffed. 
“I want your attention, honey.” 
He spoke softer now and you couldn’t help but think wow, what a psycho. 
“Sorry, you’ve lost that privilege.” 
“I haven’t lost anything, darling. Don’t forget who you belong to.” 
His sneer was sinister and you knew what he meant, what he was capable of. As he walked out of the door, tears filled your vision. You wanted so badly to call Rafe but you knew it would only mean disaster. He couldn’t know everything, yet. So, instead you finished closing the club and went home.
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taglist: please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!
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aroacehanzawa · 6 months
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i'm going to be real with you guys for a moment. i don't think i'll continue following bsd much after this point
#i take back what i said about being excited for what's to come. i mean i am. in a very general impersonal way.#but the way the series is going. if the ending of the anime is going to be followed by the manga in a similar direction#is just very different from the silly armed detective agency vs port mafia authors with superpowers slightly high-stakes slice of life#that i originally signed up for. i've felt this way the whole decay of angels arc and just stuck around to see what happens#and because i care about the characters. bsd was always a character-focused manga for me#but the direction it seems to be taking is this massive epic entire-world-at-stake military scifi drama#where super epic power-up style ability weapons (and one-off overpowered nameless ability users are introduced and killed off in the same#scene. like the time manipulation catgirl) take the forefront at the expense of actual character focus and character development#like why are most of the (original) cast completely unaccounted for in what was meant to be a satisfying ending.#did asagiri forget that atsushi is the main character. why did tachihara's and sigma's arcs get cut short like that.#and frankly i feel like bsd started to take this direction from storm bringer onwards. the focus and scope of it is very different#to for example the untold origins or dazai's entrance exam or even 55 minutes. but if i were to theorise i would say that the scope of#the current direction of bsd must have started germinating during the 55 minutes light novel. if you can see what i mean#anyway more importantly i find that the tone is now entirely different from early bsd. it's just not the series that i fell in love with#so i think it's best that i stop here before letting it turn sour like jujutsu kaisen is to me now.#i have the manga (and anime) that i can reread (rewatch) up to the perfect crime arc whenever i want#i can reread the sskk fight of volume 20 whenever i want. i can revisit sigma and nikolai's chapters. there's wan. there's the light novels#and there's the wonderful fanfics and fanart and so many metas to read. that's what brings me joy more than the series itself nowadays.#that's all. end of era i guess. to an extent
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lochley · 7 months
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on one hand i think many telepaths would take losing their telepathy as a gift but on the other. new wheel of time episode talking about the suicidality of becoming disconnected to the one power has reminded me just how fucking depressing my AU where lyta's powers burn out instead of her dying truly got which is probably why i stopped working on it j;lkaskdlfj
#og#with lyta in particular her abilities are so insane and unique that i don't think she can ever imagine viewing the world differently again#i think she's past the outright desire to be normal bc she's seen how the world rejected her when she wasn't#and why would she want to fit into such conditional acceptance etc (even though it is Easy and she is Tired)#and i wonder if she'd still be in danger with no way to protect herself bc her dna would still be... what it is#it's just that in her particular case the universe opened up for her to an extent no one else will ever understand#especially when factoring in vorlon connections! and those are already gone! and her powers growing was becoming a replacement#so even without her powers she still is never going to fit in because she's never going to blend in with people#who haven't had those experiences bc she's always going to have known what that feeling was like and be rendered empty without it#i don't think she hates having those powers all that much tbh because she knows the world is cruel and she needs to protect herself#but most importantly it's just integral to how she sees the world now and how her body connects to it and she connects to her body#i really loved in an earlier wheel of time episode - the discussion about being cut off from the one power#being a violent assault and how you don't feel at home in your own body anymore#and that's exactly how i think it would feel for lyta#and. to this most recent episode. how else do you cope with that besides wanting to end it all lol :') not like you can ascend at this poin#anyway on a happier note i do want her to find love and happiness no matter who she is or what she can do#and i love her dynamic with g'kar so much bc he just... treats her normally imo? at least eventually#rather than being afraid of her or idolizing/dehumanizing to her his whole thing is wanting to help her reconnect to base humanity#and SO. despite having learned how cruel the world can be and the defenses necessary to survive above it#there is still love and acceptance to catch you even when you get knocked off that isolated shielded pedestal#and learn that you no longer need those defenses to a certain extent#and maybe that emptiness doesn't go away but it gets smaller when you begin to live again in new ways#it just still does not make the years it takes to get there automatically easy it just... makes them a tad less traumatizing#ultimately i don't think... normalcy is what she wants because normalcy isn't achievable in its standard form to someone like her#to have normalcy means going back in time and never meeting kosh or never being a telepath in the first place#but i think with her powers as they are she'd be capable of finding something that works for her and totally rock it#it's just... complicated when those powers and everything they've become tied to gets forcibly taken away lol#so to a normal telepath... maybe they would take their powers yeeting as normalcy now! maybe they'd be okay with that#but to the extent lyta's powers and experiences run... i don't think it'd work that way for her esp when not by choice#it's new suffering right when she was just about to be able to learn to live with the old
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slytherinslut0 · 4 months
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jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons
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author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.
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-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.
Draco Malfoy.
Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.
“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”
Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.
Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.
“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.
His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.
He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.
“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”
He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.
Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.
“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”
He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.
“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”
Blaise Zabini.
Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.
He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.
When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.
This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.
He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.
You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.
After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.
“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”
Lorenzo Berkshire.
Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.
Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.
Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.
His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.
You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.
He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.
“Who was that guy, darling?”
You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.
“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”
He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”
You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”
Mattheo Riddle.
“Who the fuck-“
Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.
You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.
You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.
Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.
You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,
“Is this fucker bothering you?”
Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.
“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“
He’d heard more than enough.
“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”
Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:
“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”
Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.
And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.
When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”
You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.
Theodore Nott.
He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.
Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-
Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.
Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.
Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.
His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.
He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.
“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”
As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.
Tom Riddle.
“AVADA KEDA-“
Lowkey kidding but not really.
No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.
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forlix · 6 months
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𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.
— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.
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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit
𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡
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y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx
if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom
11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views
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bokkie 🐣 liked your post.
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“My tweet?”
You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.
“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"
A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:
je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀
You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"
je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch
You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."
je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(
An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”
At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.
“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”
Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.
You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.
je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again
“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."
Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”
You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.
“Yeah, you alright?”
“The mouse,” you say helplessly.
“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”
A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”
“I know.”
This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.
Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.
Do you agree? Absolutely.
Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.
Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.
A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.
But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.
There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.
The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.
A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.
“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”
Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.
It’s either your mom, or…
“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.
“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"
“Yes, please.”
He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.
You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.
There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.
That is all he needs to know.
Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.
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je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??
y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.
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𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡
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© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.
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seravphs · 10 months
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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER
Gojo Satoru likes his girls clingy. 
wc — 1k
tags — confident reader 
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He lets you loop your arms around his neck and whine for kisses, gifts, everything he has. With an unlimited budget and the deep pockets of a man in love, he spoils you rotten. 
Here’s the problem with being the strongest: you will always be the strongest. From the day he was born, there was no competition. Gojo didn’t even have to begin to outstrip his peers. He was simply born better than them. 
But eventually, even that level of talent grew exponentially until he went from being simply unbeatable to untouchable. His growth was incomparable, leaving him a lonely god on his own plane of existence. 
That’s why he needs you: sweet and soft and demanding. Everyone else had it all wrong. 
The Gojo clan spoiled their young head rotten. Knowing that he would bear the burden of the world from the moment he was born and those blue eyes opened, his mother demanded her child grow up in peace. Nothing was asked of him, no demands, no pleas for help. 
The outside world relied on Gojo as their saviour, but within the Gojo compound, he was just a spoiled little boy whose mother adored him. 
The way he acts within the walls of the Gojo stronghold is a carefully kept secret. He’s as soft as a newborn kitten, hair carefully washed by his childhood nurses and left out to sun in a patch of light. He’s sleepy and warm and mellow, hardly the strongest anymore. Without knowing any of this, you somehow bring that back out in him years later. 
An auxiliary manager in training, you first met him when you were tagging along with Ijichi on one of Gojo’s missions. Ijichi was flustered, even more so than usual, at the thought of having to care for a mentee when he could hardly take care of himself.
It only made matters worse that your first mission would be with Gojo. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach, despairing at how he would inevitably fail to shield you from his barbed comments and wicked teasing. 
In the end, he needn’t have worried. The two of you turn the tables on him. 
Poor Ijichi. 
It started off as a way to bully him more, because Gojo could be such a little tyrant. 
“Come on, Ijichi. Let her tag along, what’s the harm!” 
“You heard him,” you had announced self-importantly, and thrown yourself promptly into the passenger seat. 
That was usually Gojo’s seat, but he was willing to give it up for some amusement. 
You hadn’t been given permission to go on this mission, but you had insisted. First you wheedled, then you whined, finally you outright demanded. You wanted see the powerful Satoru Gojo in action. 
He leans forward, arms draped over the back of your seat. He pokes your cheek playfully as he says, “Oh, are you a fan?” 
“As if!” You scoff. “I don’t care about you, I care about your cursed technique.” 
Gojo takes your bluntness in stride. Maybe it’s the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about his technique (he caught you demanding details on Hollow Purple from Ijichi once) or maybe it’s the way your cheeks puff out when you pout. He knows you’re lying. Part of your assignment to Ijichi is because you begged Masamichi to be placed where you could watch Gojo work. 
It’s easy work for him. The curse is vaporized in seconds. He makes it look so weak you wonder why they even bothered with it at all until you remember that this curse had been failed to be exorcised by a first grade sorcerer who had come back licking his wounds. It’s not that it’s weak, it’s that he’s too strong. 
“Anyone up for lunch? My treat,” Gojo says, still immaculate as ever. 
Ijichi, who had been standing so close he got covered in some strange muck, not even from the curse but from Hollow Purple cutting through the mud, looks at him suspiciously. Gojo is never this nice. 
You have no such reservations. Ijichi yelps and protests when Gojo brings you to a luxurious restaurant in the heart of Tokyo without a reservation, relying on the strength of his name alone. He doesn’t even eat much, content to watch you order whatever you like on his dime. It amuses him, the way you’re so confident about it, as if you know he won’t refuse you. 
He won’t. 
By the time you order dessert - for you and Gojo, telling him he’ll like whatever you choose for him - he can’t bear the burning question that’s been lurking in the back of his mind anymore. 
“Smoke break!” He demands cheerfully. 
“You don’t even smoke!” Ijichi says, terrified, as if Gojo is some high school bully dragging him out under another pretense to shake him down for cash. He might, just for fun. 
You smile and wave them off. You wouldn’t let Gojo do that seriously, but Ijichi is just so fun to tease. You’ll come rescue him later if it looks like he’s really miserable. 
“Alright, spill the beans,” Gojo says, leaning against the doorframe and blockading Ijichi from going back inside. “What’s her deal?” 
Ijichi just stares at him slack jawed, open mouthed, terrified, clearly still waiting for some kind of attack. 
“Oh, come on! I’m not that mean to you, am I?” Even Gojo can’t resist a twitchy smile at what he’s saying. “Who is she? Where’s she from?” 
Ijichi blinks. “She’s just some girl. Masamichi hired her.” 
“She’s a right little princess,” Gojo murmured. “What, is she the daughter of a clan head or something? Maybe even the Three Clans?” 
Ijichi sighs. “You would think so with that attitude, but she just comes from a normal non-sorcerer family.” 
“Her?” Gojo asks disbelievingly. “A girl like that? Impossible.” 
“It’s true,” Ijichi says. “I don’t even know where Masamichi picked her up.” 
Gojo returns to his seat with a overly sweet parfait waiting for him. You’re right, he does like it. Or maybe he likes it because you’re finally giving him your full attention, waiting with rapt delight to see if he’ll give it full stars. 
He thinks he might take you out to dinner more, if it gets you to look at him like that. You might not be a clan princess yet, but he can’t wait to make you one.
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saetoru · 7 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ JUST YOURS — LYNEY.
contents. archon quest spoilers, reader finds out lyney is from the house of the hearth—and all the drama + betrayal that comes from that </3 so big rip </3 but it has a hopeful ending tho !!
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lyney has knocked on your door three times today—you haven’t opened up once. you can’t.
“please,” you can hear his muffled voice, “i just want to talk. will you let me explain?”
magicians must always make their audience believe in the impossible, he’s always told you with that sweet, alluring little smile on his face that makes you hang onto every word of his. he’s right, you think—magicians are simply those who have mastered the art of deception, and lyney is no exception. he’s deceiving you even now, with that broken voice as if he’s the one who’s hurt.
word spreads fast in fontaine—lyney, your sweet, romantic, devoted lyney, is of the house of the hearth. his trial mortifies you at first—but deep down, you know in your heart that lyney is no murderer. and then, in an instant, you’re not so sure anymore when somehow, within less than a day, lady furina is able to uncover more about your boyfriend than you have in months.
lyney is of the house of the hearth. he’s of the fatui.
“i’m sorry,” you hear a thud of his forehead resting against the door, “you’re mad, i know—but let me explain the—”
for the first time all day, you open the door. you’re not sure why—somehow, you need him to know you’re not just mad. you’ve been mad at lyney before, being mad is easy. being mad means he’ll pull a rose from behind your ear and make you smile against your will. being mad means you’ll realize you can’t stay mad at him for long, not when he looks at you like that. being mad is temporary—but this? this feels permanent.
you’re not mad at lyney. you simply can’t trust him anymore, and he needs to know that, needs to understand that he should stay away and never find you again.
you’re glaring at him, staring at the face that has always done nothing but make you smile. you wonder, for a small, doubtful moment, if every smile lyney has ever pulled from you has been built off of pure lies and half truths and withheld information.
you’ve given him every bit of yourself, told him everything there is to tell and then some, let him discover things himself that no one has yet to learn. and lyney, as you learn, is someone you can’t even begin to know, not really—maybe not ever.
“you’re with the fatui,” your voice is cold, but you know he can hear the waver—you hate him for that. for being able to pick you apart when you don’t know the first thing about him, “you’ve lied to me all this time—”
“i didn’t lie,” he says quickly, “i just…didn’t tell you everything—”
“that’s not any better,” you cut him off, finality in your voice that makes his eyes widen a fraction, “i have no business with someone of the—”
“wait,” his foot stops the door before it can close, stepping in despite your protests as he inches closer and closer. you take a step back every time—the hurt on his face is palpable. “can…can i explain? please?”
“explain what?” you furrow your eyebrows, “explain that you’re with the fatui? how is there any explaining that? how can you look me in the eye and tell me you’re not bad—”
“i’m not,” he insists, “i’m not bad.”
lyney has never looked at you like that—like you’ve hurt him right where he’s most vulnerable, right where he’s weak and fragile and can’t bear to be hurt. you hate that you want to apologize for a moment, that you want to cradle his face and kiss the tremble off of his lips.
“then what are you?” you challenge, crossing your arms.
“i’m trying to save people,” he croaks, “our organization has a lot of people—a lot of goals. father and i want to—”
“your father has hurt people,” you cut him off.
“father saved me,” he says firmly, “and lynette. she gave us a home. and she wants to save the people of this nation—”
“she’s taken advantage of your weakness and—”
“she did what no one else would for me and my family.”
“then go,” you spit, “go to her and do her bidding. but i can’t turn a blind eye to the fact that you’re with the fatui.”
“even as a member of the house, my decisions are my own,” his hand grabs yours—you can’t find it in yourself to pull it away. it’s familiar, warm—it’s lyney. your lyney. “i’m doing what i believe is right. to break the prophecy.”
“i don’t know what you’re trying to do,” you admit, tired, defeated, “or who you are, frankly. but i’m tired of lies, lyney.”
“then i’ll tell you the truth,” his voice trembles, “anything you ask.”
“i’m not sure that’ll help,” you say quietly.
and then his arms are wrapped tightly around you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck as he pulls you close. you want to push him away. you want to melt into his arms. you want to tell him to leave. you want to ask him to always stay.
lyney is of the house of the hearth, the fatui. but he’s also your lyney—the one who brings you flowers and tucks them behind your ear, the one who does tricks for children and makes them smile, the one who gives his heart and soul for his family to keep them safe.
you don’t know if the two can coexist as one, but you know despite it all, you still love lyney, and you don’t know if you can stop. the thought is haunting.
“i’ve always done what i believe is right,” he promises, “i’ve never hurt someone innocent. you have to know that much.”
“lyney—”
“i love you,” his voice breaks, “i’ve always loved you as just lyney. i promise.”
“i’m scared of who you are when you’re not just lyney,” you whisper—and you suppose you’re also weak, because your hand slips into his hair, stroking through the strands so that if it’s the last time, maybe you can commit the feeling of him to memory.
you can feel his tears fall onto your skin, and you can feel his fingers grip your shirt as he clings onto you, onto the last bit of hope that you’re his—that he’s yours. your lyney, the one you’ve always known and loved.
“i’m always just lyney,” he promises, “no matter who i’m with.”
“i just…need time,” you sniffle, “to think.”
“okay,” he says quietly. you can feel his lip quiver against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck, “i’ll wait. however long you need, i’ll wait. i love you.”
“i know, lyney,” you sigh, caving and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head. you savor the feeling—just in case you’ll never feel it again.
maybe you can—maybe he’s telling the truth. maybe lyney has always been yours, the one you think you know. you don’t know, but you hope you’ll find out.
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i would forgive him i can’t lie to you no amount of fatui crimes could outweigh how badly i need to kiss this little shrimp of mine
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dumplingsjinson · 14 days
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List of “just angst for angst’s sake” prompts 
“You were it at one point, you know?” “I don’t like how you used past tense there. Makes it hurt more, and makes things… It makes things so much more real.” 
“This is exactly why I never wanted to fall in love with you.” 
“I still don’t understand what I did wrong.”
“...Why did you do that for?”
“I’ve always wondered why it had to be you.”
“Did I… Did I do something wrong?”
“I can feel you cutting me off. And it sucks because I don’t know why you’re doing this.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re trying to pull away from me.” 
“Why won’t you love me back?” “…You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”
“It’s not that I can’t do this anymore, it’s just that I don’t want to. Not with you.”
“Whatever I do, I can’t fucking get you out of my head and it’s ruining me.” 
“I don’t… I don’t think I can trust you again.”
“No matter how hard I try, I can’t help but doubt you. And I can’t keep living like this; living in the fear that you’d end up being the one tearing me to pieces.” 
“I don’t want to love you anymore.” 
“Can I be honest? I don’t miss you. I don’t miss what we had.” 
“The worst part is I truly loved you.” 
“I wouldn’t be in this state if you just left me alone from the very start.” 
“…I wonder if things would have been better if we never met.”
“Maybe we should let broken things stay broken.” 
“I could have lived without knowing you never meant anything you told me.” 
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Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation
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u3pxx · 4 months
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WELCOME HOME, POLLY! ✈️☀️🪄
finally sharing the piece i drew for @aasiblingszine! :^D if there's one thing about me, it's that i will be VERY sappy about apollo and trucy <3
leftovers are live over on here! so feel free to grab yourself a copy of this siblimful zine if you wanna feel warm and fuzzy and maybe cry a lil bit about ace attorney and the siblingisms of it all pftt <33
extra stuff under the cut! :^P | like this art? it'll be a print in my shop once the leftovers are over! | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!
help i just noticed that the timelaspe i had of this didn't record me rendering the rest of the drawing 😭 oh well, here's the progress gif too why not pftt
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it's been maybe more than a year since i drew this so very wild to see how my art style has evolved since this! considering that i'm currently in an art rut pftt, i've changed my inking pen so many times by now lol. but i still like this a lot! what's a den drawing without too many add (glow) layers and the sun setting down in it lmao
just looking at all the art and writing made for this zine was such a treat! so many heartwarming and heartwrenching scenarios so beautifully written and illustrated! flipping through this zine, i teared up a bit, my man!! i'm so glad to have worked with such talented peeps! :'^] <33
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this drawing of mine is kind of an expansion of this old doodle i drew, i'm just a big enjoyed of trucy and apollo ending up being the same height after a timeskip AND i am also just very weepy about missing people who used to be always with you, mayhaps.
once again reminding you that leftovers are live!!! here's the link, go get this wonderful zine!!!
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amandacanwrite · 2 months
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I would like to share a few head canons for Gale Dekarios being in love with tav/you. If you liked this one and have a request for another character let me know. These ones have just been percolating for a bit.
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In Battle
He tries very hard to stay near you. He doesn’t like it when you go off on your own. He knows he doesn’t quite have the strength of Karlach or the sure footedness of Astarion, but he’s not just going to let you fight everyone on your own.
Sometimes he gets a little hurt that you always put yourself in harms way/take so much of the damage on the battlefield. Don’t you know that losing you would destroy him?
You have never witnessed it, but according to the other party members he goes feral if you’re knocked unconscious.
When you wake up it’s always with your head cradled in his lap as shadowheart works on the worst of the wounds.
He does this thing with his magic where he makes his hands really cold. It feels nice on your feverish skin as he gently smooths your hair away from your face, you don’t know why you feel so nauseous and sweaty after you black out but this little gesture helps you come back smoothly.
He has a hard time sleeping after a rough encounter. He keeps waking up and making sure you’re still breathing. In the end he gives up on sleeping and just reads by the fire, calming his nerves to the sound of your steady, stable breathing.
In Camp
He is hilariously fussy about what you eat.
“No, you ABSOLUTELY CANNOT subsist off of a loaf of bread, three olives and a bottle of wine. We are no longer young scholars barely SCRAPING by—“
Very resourceful when it comes to what you can scrape together out of barrels around camp. You were very skeptical when you watched him putting a variety of different bones into a cauldron as you left him back in camp one day. But you came back to a rich stew full of potatoes, some wild rice and even some cut up apple in the mix.
He likes it when you play with his hair. But he has to very pointedly avoid it if he’s in the middle of reading up on something.
“Darling, are you certain you’re not practiced in the arcane arts? I do think you’ve got some magic in those fingertips of yours, at the very least, with how quickly they can put me to sleep.”
When You’re Alone
It’s simple. He worships you. Perhaps it’s because his last lover was a goddess but it seems to come easy for him; the reverent words, the gentle touches, the utter devotion. Sometimes you catch him just… looking at you. His eyes softly hooded, a relaxed curve to his lips. It’s your favorite to ask what’s on his mind when he looks at you like that.
“Hm? Oh, nothing much. I’ve just been observing. Did you know you purse your lips when you’re reading something that you disagree with? Yes—hah—just like that.”
He loves to read WITH you. Especially loves to show you some of his favorite tomes. He’ll get you all nestled up against him and hold the book down in front of you. He reads much faster than you, so he busies himself kissing behind your ear or playing with your hair until you turn the page.
Gods does he love it when you ask him questions about something to do with magic. He loves watching the glint in your eye when he’s helped you understand something.
You love it when you get him rolling on a topic of theory that you know he doesn’t get to talk about much. Sometimes he loses you when he gets into the minutiae, but he’s so damn cute when he’s ranting about the wonder in the world.
In Intimate Moments
(Potential NSFW below.)
Of course it is not a surprise that he’s a generous lover. What is a surprise is how demanding he can be when he feels like it. He knows you are no stranger to a challenge and he loves to make things more exciting by presenting you with one.
“Of course I’m aware of our companions in camp. But it’s not as if we can afford ourselves more privacy. You’re just going to have to quiet those lovely little sounds you make while I touch you… let’s see… it was here wasn’t it? Ah, ah… shhhh, my love. Those pointy ears of Astarion’s might pick even that tiny sound.”
Gods does he know how to string words together to leave you completely undone.
Sometimes foreplay is mostly talk. He can get you going without even touching you.
“My love, I’ve not been able to stop thinking of the ways I want to touch you all day. Shall I tell you what’s been on my mind?”
His breath tickles against your ear as his hands smooth over your clothed body, telling you how he wants to take you. It’s all the more flustering when you know he always keeps his word.
Love making always starts with a kiss, deep and slow.
You feel him smile into the kiss when he slips his fingers into the front of your trousers and he feels just how aroused he’s made you.
“You are exquisite. A delicacy of the highest quality. Do you know that?”
He’s not one to bang it out for a quickie. He doesn’t like to feel like he’s stealing his time with you, or like he’s a young man again and hastily getting whatever he can before heading back to the dormitories. Every touch, every word, every thrust is slow and deliberate. He wants to relish the feeling of it all. He wants to soak you in.
Somehow, he always smells good. Like cinnamon and tea and… some earthen, herbaceous scent you cant place.
So many cuddles after you’re done.
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inkskinned · 11 months
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there's this video you've probably seen already where a woman is shaking in front of a microphone and delicately tries to ask - how can i make my husband listen to me, i've tried everything, i don't want to seem ungrateful and the other man laughs - the problem is that you married a man, we're only listening 25% of the time and we only understand 5% of that! and the audience laughs and the woman laughs and you just sat there, phone in your hand, letting the sound of it echo
and the thing is that people make think-pieces about it (isn't this one of them) and satire versions and "flipping the script" which is good and fun but at the end of the day, there's some truth in that man's response about men-not-listening. and you have tried to language that feeling for years, this sense that you can only take up 33% of a conversation before others view it as being "dominating".
it's not that they aren't listening, it's that the action they're taking is purposefully silencing. it's different. you accidentally-don't-listen a lot; just because the world is loud and you're distracted. you don't mean anything by it. and the truth is that the man who spoke is relying on that to be true of you; the way it's true of everyone. but there is a different undertone to his kind of not-listening. what he means is they don't respect you and you shouldn't expect them to. there is a difference between oh shit i forgot to take the trash out and why didn't you remind me to do it, just like there is a difference between i didn't realize you wanted to go out this weekend and why do you expect me to plan things why can't you just tell me where we're going.
and the thing is that it isn't just him, and it's actually not just because of your gender - your skin, your class status, your weight, their ableism - it happens often. so often it feels like a tightness around your throat and a weight in your stomach. you're not even "really" allowed to be upset about it, because to them it's a joke. and they laugh. and you know exactly the amount of work that goes into every conversation. how you have to work to condense down your thoughts into intelligent, crisp soundbites; worried someone will try to swoop in and cut you off. and there's this sense from everyone else - oh stop being so sensitive, are you really upset just because they weren't listening and you don't know how to say the way that feels when it happens constantly.
there's that video of the science summit where a woman in the audience finally says let her speak please! and the whole crowd bursts into applause and the man leading the summit holds up his hands and bows his head and says oops, sorry! like what he did was awkward and embarrassing, a little social gaffe that happens easily. later in your meetings, you're asked to take notes, and you don't say anything, you just hear let her speak please! ringing in your head and know that you'll never be brave enough for that kind of thing. and besides. think of all the people who agree this was a one-off, he just got excited and all of the people who say one man is not indicative of all of society
at the dinner table you're talking about someone you don't like and how he's not good to his girlfriend and how she always has to remind him to put the effort in and before him, she was glowing with curiosity and passion but now she just seems... tired, unhappy. that he likes the way she burns out; she stays home and takes care of him and their 2 kids. and your father sniffs and says that men take a while to learn those kinds of things. and you just stare at him and think about your childhood and are like - no wonder i turned out like this
and you want to say - there's no fucking secret school or mystic form of communication. i was not sent to Rearing a Child University. i did not graduate from Getting Chores Done College. i ask questions and i listen and i pay attention, because that's basic fucking human decency. it stems from respect, and how i respect others and their agency. i clean the house because someone should clean. not because it comes "naturally".
hell, you had to google "how to boil an egg" the other day, just because you usually make them scrambled. you can never remember which of the 2 bathroom cleaners make chlorine gas, only that two of them definitely do. you've accidentally bleached your clothes. it took you like 3 years of self-teaching before you figured out how to actually cook things correctly - for that whole time, you burnt or undercooked everything. but you did teach yourself; just like you taught yourself how to listen with empathy. just like how you taught yourself to think before you speak. to be kind first, to be better at communicating. it seemed like a good thing, an adult thing.
the joke the man in the video makes is that women say i'm fine! when they are not fine. and you think about the 150 conversations that happened around that; about how she probably has had so many arguments with her husband. how she said i'm upset you don't take me anywhere and he got mad at her because of course i do, you made me go to that stupid restaurant like last week and she probably said that's not what i'm saying and he said now i'm supposed to be psychic or something and she said no of course not and he said how am i supposed to know what to do when you don't even like everything and she said i do like things and he said well how am i supposed to win? and her pastor probably told her to be more grateful because they do things at all, even if she has to plan them and her mom probably told her that's just how men are honey and she probably cried over her journal, trying to figure out why the fuck she "has everything" and is still so bitterly, horribly unhappy
and how, in your life, for so many reasons, you looked down the barrel of another argument; of explaining yourself and being vulnerable and begging for help again. how many times you just said i'm fine because it was better than doing that again; it was better than wringing yourself out when it's literally easier to just pretend. because he wasn't going to listen. your father wasn't going to be better and your boyfriend wasn't going to be better and your boss wasn't going to be more respectful.
and you sit in front of a video of a woman shaking, looking horrible and guilt-wrought that she's even asking this question. and you know; deep in your heart - that's you. in a different life, you are her. you've stood in her spot. and you had to listen while someone else cackled - why would we bother to notice when you talk?
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hybridirl · 1 month
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who first?
18+ only, please!
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ellie x f!loser!reader x abby
a/n: sorry for the long wait! i was with my family the past week celebrating a holiday :)!! now i’m back and i’m gonna try and pump out a few. i am in fact working on the ellie x loser!reader pt2, so pls bear with me! i’m still thinking up ideas. this shit is harddd
brief summary: ellie and abby are the bestest of friends, and you’re… there. they kinda feel bad for you, so they bring home some of the “good shit” for a game. never have i ever? with shots. reversed. haven’t done it? drink!!!
tw / AU, *DUBCON* (reader is drunk (but so is ellie and abby)), strap-on, use of y/n, cunnilingus (r and e receiving), tit-slapping, porn no plot, rushed sex, threesome, reader gets referred to as “girl”
ᡣ𐭩
watching tiktoks for hours on end was never your proudest pastime, especially when your two roommates were constantly out partying. you, honestly, were a third wheel. well, to be fair, you came into this friendship way after these two had already been established as this inseparable duo. still, being a friend - even if it’s not as deep - doesn’t mean you should be excluded from their little activities.
so, this is how your night has gone so far: moping around, trying to bake some cookies you found on tiktok, and binging tiktok. you sat on the island of the kitchen, a frown plastered on your face as you munched on your fifth cookie.
you glanced at the clock: 11:35 PM. you knew exactly what this meant; one of them is slutting themselves out while the other waits to drive themselves home. god, how it aggravated you! - how easily they could get into someone’s pants by just looking at them while you had to ease your way into it. that slow, smooth talking you, except it rarely ever worked and you came off as a creep. the pickup lines from reddit don’t seem to work in reality, huh?
pulling yourself off the counter and shoving the last piece of cookie into your mouth, you wondered why you stayed up until they came back. maybe you were just a little afraid to go to sleep alone, maybe you were just simply lonely. you wanted them to come home, tell you about their day and get envious at their friendship that you weren’t in on and that you didn’t have. poor you. you were like a watchdog, always staying up and looking out until your ‘owners’ came along, praising you for your good work so you could get your little dopamine rush. you even whimpered, just a little, as you sat on the couch to watch some cheesy drama movie that you had zero interest in. about thirty minutes in, the door opens. you turn your head and watch your two acquaintances walk in, both holding a suspiciously shaped brown bag.
“hey,” you greet, “what’re those?” you pointed toward the bags in their hands.
“just stuff for you,” ellie chirped first, setting the bag on the coffee table.
“us, she means,” abby cut in, setting hers down. you watched as they revealed what was shielded from her viewing: two tall bottles of ‘devil’s spring vodka.’
you cocked your head to the side and spoke, “for us? what for?” they gave you a ‘what do you think?’ look before ellie headed off to get three shot glasses. she placed one in front of you, abby, and herself.
“so, y/n,” abby began, popping the top and pouring some into each glass. “we know you’re lonely and we thought we’d do something for you, huh? sound good?” you pursed your lips and nodded, completely weirded out by this interaction.
“we’re gonna play a game,” ellie said, circling her glass with her hands. “it’s like ‘never have i ever.’ ever played?” you nodded. “good. so, each time someone says something you haven’t done, you take a shot. got it?” you nod again. “a—lright, you guys ready?” abby smiles and raises her hand.
“i’ll go first,” she told, an obvious mischievous glint in her eye, “let’s start of tame. so, y/n, have you ever… kissed someone in public? i’m not talking a little peck, i’m talking seriously making out.” your face heated, and your jaw dropped just slightly. you thought about lying, of course, just to seem cool, but, you knew they’d know.
“i-i… no, i haven’t,” you muttered out, shakily reaching your hand toward your glass. you took a sip, wincing at the burn in your throat.
“c’mon, y/n, the whole thing,” ellie chuckled at your ministrations. you whimpered silently before your head tilted back, gulping the rest down.
“ugh,” you groaned as you set it down and watched as ellie pour more into your glass. you had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
“okay, my turn,” ellie giggled, looking at the two of you. “okay, y/n, have you ever… had someone motorboat you?” your brows furrowed immediately.
“m-motorboat? i, well, um… no.”
“drink up then, girl.” they watched as you took another brave shot, your face contorting into what looked like pain, and, to be fair, it was painful.
you were about to speak, for your turn, but abby interrupted quickly, barely even noticing your open mouth, “my turn, huh?” abby questioned. your jaw shut right back up, letting her take the lead. letting her do her thing. “so, y/n, ever, i don’t know, let’s get a little crazier with this one, yeah? ever been in a threesome?”
you stared at abby with wide eyes, why are they asking you this stuff? why only you?
“no…” you whispered, continuing your stare on her as you went to take yet another shot. you were already starting to feel a buzz, already starting to feel the heat in your tummy. with a slightly clouded head, you turned to ellie. she was smirking, her eyes knowing as her lips parted once more.
“how about you give it a go?” ellie asked you, and you felt some relief.
“h-have you guys ever, um… have you guys ever… had a threesome?” you asked in a low voice. you watched abby roll her eyes and go to grab her glass, as with ellie.
“o—kay, my turn,” ellie clasped her hands together, after setting her glass back down, “ever taken it up the ass, y/n?”
“why are you only asking me?” you gawked, reaching for your glass. you took the next shot, and felt a sudden need for more.
“because we already know what we’ve did,” abby replied, another shot of the vodka slithering down her throat. “mm, that’s some good shit. so, y/n, have you ever topped?” you sighed as you reached for the glass once more. “oh, so you’re a bottom? figures. i mean, look at you.” you looked up at her, slightly offended whilst your hands went to pour yourself another shot.
“have you guys ever, uh, had public… sex?” you found yourself boldly asking, obvious that this drink was getting to you. they both raised their glasses to their lips.
this went on and on, mostly them asking you, you sometimes asking them until you were all drunk out of your minds.
“y/n,” ellie finally groaned and she scooted closer to you. you hadn’t realized the proximity of them both, slowly decreasing as the night went on. you hummed a response, your eyes half closed and your face hot. “h’ve you ever, uh, fantasized? about us?” ellie asked, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. your hand didn’t reach for the glass, rather you simply stared into those green eyes. “yeah? you have? why didn’t you tell us? we coulda’ made all of your dreams come true, sweetheart,” she whispered, her hand meeting your waist.
“i-i was n-nervous,” you whined, “didn’ wanna say anythin’…”
“y/n, baby,” abby purred into your ear, “you don’ gotta be nervous ‘round us.” your head throbbed as you bit your lip; their hands explored your body, slowly molding you into your arousal. you wondered if this was their plan all along as their fingers danced around your PJs, caressing your inner thighs…
“please,” you whispered and their eyes flickered toward you. “…t-touch me…” you sighed blissfully as ellie’s hand finally met with your pajama-clad vulva. abby’s head dipped into the crook of your neck; she kissed up your neck and throat, then tilted your head toward hers to kiss your lips. sloppily, her tongue slipped into your mouth, prodding and massaging your tongue. your own mingled with hers, dancing around each other’s. you barely noticed your bottoms being tugged down, only realizing once the chill of the air hit your heat.
“lemme taste ‘er first,” abby said quickly as she pulled away from your swollen lips.
“no,” ellie whined, tugging your body toward hers.
“it was my idea,” she growled in return, “now let me have her first.” ellie huffed, but let go. she took asylum in your breasts; lifting your shirt up, she immediately dove into your mounds. she licked up to your nipple, taking it between her lips. you let out a broken moan as she nibbled on your sensitive bud, her tongue swirling around your pebbling nipples.
abby slid your legs open with her hands, spreading your labia with her thumb.
“how long h’ve you been this wet, y/n?” an obvious rhetorical question. you were too occupied with ellie and the worship of your breasts.
“a’w-while,” you managed to croak, though. you heard her chuckle and felt your body being tugged toward her more. “mmf, abby, be gentle…” ellie watched as abby’s head dipped between your legs, then her eyes flickered to your face to watch it contort in pleasurable expressions. “abby… ngh…” your hand reached to tug at her blonde hair, earning a groan from her lips.
“i heard she’s a p-pro,” ellie whispered to you while she tugged off her bottoms. your eyes fluttered, staring dazed at the sight of her pussy.
“want,” you purred out. ellie only smirked at you, her hands moving in to shove you down onto the couch. her legs straddled your head and she lowered herself onto you without warning, virtually smothering you. “mmf!” your brows were furrowed, your nose smooshed against her wet cunt. she ground her hips into your face, covering it in her slick.
“c’mon, y/n, thought you wanted it.” your doe eyes kept gazing up at her and you began to do the best you could with her weight in your face, your tongue working hard against her swollen clit.
both of the feelings were intoxicating, abby at your pussy, you at ellie’s. your legs tightened around abby’s head as her fingers found your g-spot, thrusting her fingers in and out of you. you moan into ellie, slurping at the nectar leaking from her. you’re so intoxicated, you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or this delicious feeling. your hands gripped ellie’s sides and you pulled her closer. you were whimpering, moaning, abby’s tongue wriggling into you, her fingernails digging into your plush thighs.
“mmm!” you cried, your eyes shutting as you felt a knot in your stomach begin to uncoil, your juices coating abby’s tongue and face.
“ahn, yeah,” abby groaned. “righ’ on my tongue, sweethear’.” your eyes were rolling, face scrunched in pleasure. it was a sure sight for ellie, drawing - no, forcing ellie’s own climax to follow suit. her arousal painted you, creaming on your face as she held your head close to her.
“oh, god, please please please — fuck!”
she ground against you, riding her orgasm out in your face. her clit bumped your nose, and your hands gripped her hips, slowly guiding her to a halt as she came down. as she got up from you, she took a moment to admire her work. your face looked so exhausted, wet with her, and needy for more.
“abby,” ellie said, “g-go get the…” she gestured into the direction of the bedrooms, then abby knew what she was talking about. she made her way into one the bedrooms, who knows which, and rummaged through. you watched the hallway curiously, ready for her arrival. you tried to sit up, but ellie only grabbed you, laying you down on her thighs. when abby came out, you were surprised to find her pant-less, and with a harness strapped to her person, not to mention a dildo hanging from it. she approached, slow and cautious steps. you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tease you or try to get you into the idea.
“you wan’ it?” she asked you, slowly crawling into the sofa, then nudging and prodding your wetness with the head.
“wan’ it.”
“alrigh’, sweet girl,” she breathed, easing the head into your slippery entrance. “good?” you nodded your head, egging her on silently.
“abby,” you moaned breathlessly. she shushed you, halting her movements so you could get used to her. she ran her rough hands down your sides, down, down, to your clit, gently rubbing it to make you feel some sort of goodness as she stood still. “move, please,” you whimpered.
“y/n, you should see ‘yer face right now,” ellie giggled, caressing the side of your head. “god, y’so pretty. fuck ‘er, abby, hurry. look at ‘er face.” abby rolled her eyes, not usually taking commands. she was going to anyway, but…
“oh!” you gasped from her sudden movements, a tight snap from her hips. “f-fuck!”
“mmm, ‘n moans so pretty,” ellie praised, “didn’ get to hear ‘ya so well when you were under me. gettin’ smothered by my pussy... mhm…” she caressed your face again, cupping your cheeks as abby began to pound you.
“abby!” you cried to her, eyes shut tight, hands flailing to find somewhere to rest. they found abby’s biceps, gripping them tightly as she slapped her hips against yours. “please, ngh!” you grit your teeth, jaw clenched while pleasure overtook you.
“eyes open,” abby growled, “‘n on me.” you had to fight yourself to open your eyes, but the sight in front of you was perfect. abby’s blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her braid dangling and swinging with each thrust, her slack jaw, fuck. “yeah, ‘atta girl.” she was thrusting just right, obviously so experienced. it was pleasing her, too, the strap hitting just right at her swollen clit.
how badly you wanted to touch her body, worship her like you did quietly with her eyes. she was like a greek god, muscular and sculpted so perfectly. especially now, sweat marbling her skin and her chiseled body over yours. you almost forgot ellie was there, being as (almost) quiet as she was. glancing up, you caught sight of her, her fingers buried into her cunt. the sight alone was enough to make you cum once more, but you couldn’t, not so early. you looked back up at the deity above you who was staring into your eyes.
“abby,” you groaned. you threw your head back, going dumb on her cock. “right there… f-please…” cross-eyed, you sobered up a little as you felt a harsh pain on your breasts. “oh!” you gasped, feeling her large hand slap your chest. “abby!”
“take my cock, girl,” abby panted, hands squeezing your breasts, using them as leverage as she continued her pounding.
“fu—ck,” ellie groaned to the sight of you and to the noise of her fingers in her cunt, squelching, obscene, and loud. “y’doing so good, y/n… yes… uhn!”
you ran your hand up abby’s biceps, wrapping your arms around her neck. this prompted her to lean in and kiss your lips, deep and hungry. your hand cupped her cheek, pulling her close while your lips collided. abby pulled away first to admire your body and you took this moment to lift your arms above your head, desperately trying to pull ellie closer by her legs. she scoot closer and you cocked your head to the side, immediately licking at her cunt.
“yeah,” abby moaned, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. “lick ‘er fuckin’ pussy.” she gripped your waist, hurriedly thrusting into you, her clot bumping against the harness. “fuck, i’m cumming!” she moaned, collapsing onto you as she came. she kissed at your neck, bit at it, too, while she continued to thrust, needing you to cum, too. her fingers finding your clit, furiously rubbing it.
you couldn’t help it anymore; biting into ellie’s thigh, you came. squirted, actually. all over her cock, all over her abdomen. your body was convulsing, shaking and twitching for her. ellie followed in suit, your teeth pushing her over the edge as they sunk deeper into her. all three of you were moaning, crying, holding each other tight.
“fuck,” you were the first to say. abby slowly pulled out of you, panting deeply.
“you squirted,” abby chuckled with admiration. she squeezed your thighs and glanced up at ellie, “all good?” she asked. ellie nodded.
“yeah, just,” she sighed blissfully, “fuck. we should do this again.” you giggled and kissed ellie’s thigh.
“mhm,” you agreed.
maybe your (sex?) life has just changed for the better.
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