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ginnsbaker · 2 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (8/?)

Part summary: Leigh heads off to Palm Springs with Danny, while you grapple with what to do about your feelings for her.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 5.000+ | Warnings : Slight angst | Author's Note: No, I did not forget about Danny still not being honest with Leigh and R not tattling on Danny. Just let these loose ends dangle for a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

The morning after you gave Leigh a puppy for her birthday, your phone is flooded with texts from her, filled with questions ranging from vaccine schedules to the best chew toys. She shares a story about how Rogue, their previous dog, had always been Matt’s, and how she often felt left out of his care. Now, with Logan, she feels a full sense of ownership and is eager to get everything right.

You still flinch slightly whenever she mentions her late husband. It’s as if she forgets that you and Matt had something significant too, as if you weren't once the secret he kept close. Sometimes, you wish you could just erase his presence, simplify everything about your relationship with Leigh.

But you recognize that it’s selfish to wish him away, because Matt was a significant part of Leigh’s life, a major influence on who she has become. And who she is today is a lovely person—someone you've come to admire very deeply.

[6:20 AM] Leigh: Logan’s an angel, slept through the night.

[6:35 AM] Leigh: So, house training... how do I make sure Logan doesn’t turn my bed into his personal bathroom like he did five seconds ago?

You grimace at the message, picturing the hassle of laundering the sheets and possibly needing to call a cleaning service for the mattress.

[6:54 AM] Leigh: And shots? Rogue was all up to date because Matt was on it, but I’m clueless. Where do I start?

As you work your espresso machine, a grin spreads across your face, the kind that makes you feel like a complete fool but in the best possible way.

[6:56 AM] You: Good morning! You’re lucky I don’t bill for text consultations 😆

You typically charge $18 for a twenty-minute chat with a client.

[6:58 AM] Leigh: Oh. How much do I owe you? I want to pay.

Your smile falters a little at her missing your joke.

[6:58 AM] You: I was just kidding. Your texts are more than welcome, Leigh.

Feeling bold, you follow that up with something you've been wanting to make clear since last night.

[6:59 AM] You: This is what friends are for, right?

Waiting for Leigh’s reply feels like an eternity, and you're about to send another text to walk back your hint at friendship when your phone vibrates.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: I’d feel better paying. Can I drop by the clinic later?

Reading her message, you're hit with a rush—excited at the thought of seeing her, yet downhearted she's talking about paying, as if that's what's between you. But then, those little typing dots appear. You're practically holding your breath.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: We’re friends, which is why I’m paying.

It's a good thing you don't have a roommate, or else you'd never get away with grinning like an idiot at your phone. It's a bit ridiculous, you think, how high school this all feels—waiting for a glimpse, a moment, anything.

[7:01 AM] You: Absolutely, come by anytime. Looking forward to it 🙂

You hit send and lean back, trying to act like you didn't just have a mini celebration over a text.

And then, spurred by Leigh texting you first thing in the morning, you decide to add her on your social media accounts. You spend an extra fifteen minutes getting ready that morning, simply because you lingered longer in the shower, listening to songs that remind you of Leigh and how this crush is dangerously close to becoming something uncontainable.

[10:13 AM] Notification: Leigh accepted your friend request.

As it turns out, Leigh is a serial texter.

It’s odd, really. For someone who might come across as reclusive and somewhat untouchable, she is surprisingly talkative over text. The messages start coming in more frequently after this morning's exchange, just moments after you've finally left home to drive to your clinic. What's even more interesting is that this time, they're not about Logan.

And they’re all unusually random and unrelated to one another: memes that make you laugh out loud, articles on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence to the best way to juicing recipes. You find yourself waiting for these messages, eager to see what tangent Leigh's mind has wandered off to now. You get into it, dissecting the articles she sends over with the seriousness of a scholar. You type back your thoughts, trying to sound as insightful as possible, maybe even a bit witty, hoping to impress her. You imagine this might be her way of initiating deeper, intellectual conversations between you two.

So, when you send back a paragraph or two analyzing the latest article she's shared, maybe touching on its impacts on modern society or offering a counterpoint to the author's thesis, Leigh's responses aren’t what you expect. Instead of engaging with the discussion, she sends a simple thumbs-up emoji or, even more baffling, a random factoid about her day, like her opinion on the Kani salad from a sushi bar near the Beautiful Beast gym.

[12:15 PM] Leigh: [sent a photo] Just some store-bought crab sticks and diluted mayo. Don’t try it. Their saké though is 👌👌👌

You wonder why she’s having Japanese rice wine this early in the day.

[12:22 PM] You: Thanks for the heads up. I know a place for authentic Japanese food. You want to check it out with me some time?

Your text remains unseen for the rest of the afternoon.

You find yourself staring intently at the wall clock in your clinic, keenly aware of each minute slipping by, and with it, the dwindling chance of Leigh arriving before the doors lock for the day. As it nears 8 in the evening, Suzie is already wrapped up in her end-of-day tasks across the lobby. Leaning your cheek on your palm, you watch blankly as she meticulously arranges her desk, perfectly aligning each item, then moves on to gently pull the blinds closed on each window.

Suzie’s not blind. She throws you these knowing glances every time you let out one of your heavy sighs. Finally, after you've probably sighed loud enough to be heard next door, she stops what she's doing and plants herself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

You try to look puzzled. “Nothing. Why?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Please, you’ve been mooning over that clock and sighing like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. What’s up?”

You crack a smile, partly at her description, partly from being caught moping like a lovesick teenager. “It’s just… I thought maybe Leigh would come by. She said she would,” you say, wincing at yourself when the last part comes out a bit whiny.

Without missing a beat, Suzie pivots from her closing duties and makes her way over to you.

She’s not delicate with you this time. “You’re doing that thing again. Waiting around for something that’s probably not gonna happen. It’s not doing you any good.”

You know she's hitting the nail on the head, but it's tough to swallow.

Suzie continues, “You're young, you're attractive, and it's honestly weird that you're pining over your ex's ex. At first, I thought it was kind of adorable, in a bizarre, romantic-comedy kind of way. But now, it's like you're always hung up and disappointed.”

“Thanks for saying I’m young when I’m five years older than you,” you say with a sheepish smile, hiding your disappointment that she isn’t saying the things you want to hear, such as the possibility that Leigh just got busy.

Suzie shakes her head in disapproval. She's fed up, and her next words aren't going to be sugar-coated. “Snap out of it!” she barks, the command hitting you like a cold splash of water, and you jerk back in your chair, wide-eyed. Seeing you shrink back, quivering, she softens a bit and shifts back to the harmless receptionist you’re used to.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Suzie says, ensuring she has your full attention. You manage to meet her gaze, even though your eyelids feel heavy. “It's not fair to Leigh, either. You're giving meaning to everything she does—or doesn't do. It's putting her in an impossible situation. And honestly, it's not fair to you. You're missing out on your own life, waiting for someone who... well, who might never show up the way you want her to.”

Suzie knows she’s being tough, but sometimes love means being the friend who won’t let you settle for anything less than you deserve.

“I hear you, okay? It’s just… it’s the way I’m wired. I latch onto a person like a leech, refusing to let go until I see it through,” you mutter, shielding your face with your hands, a bit ashamed to even say it out loud. You get so tunnel-visioned, missing out on maybe better things and experiences because you're stuck on one track. You fall hard for your choices, never by chance.

“Good. You know what’s wrong with you,” Suzie says softly.

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound tinged with a bit of self-mockery. You're half-hidden behind your hands, peeking out at Suzie as if she's got all the answers. Suzie pries your fingers away from your face and then pinches your cheek so hard, you start to whine a bit.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest, rubbing your assaulted cheek.

“That's for being a pathetic little bitch.”

“Excuse me, I'm still the one signing your paychecks,” you shoot back, trying to sound offended but it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, boss,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Okay, so what do you suggest I do then?” you ask as the last of your chuckles die down.

“Go on a date,” comes her swift response. “All that stuff they say about love finding you when you're not looking? Biggest lie ever.”

You look at her curiously, assessing her physical features. “W-With you?”

“Dude, no! Not with me!” Suzie exclaims, laughing nervously. “I mean, sure, I'd take you out if you weren't my boss, but I don't see that happening anytime soon unless you fire me.”

“Got it, got it,” you say, still chuckling. Suzie realizes too late that you were just teasing her and huffs. “Not with you. But seriously, go on a date? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just meet someone.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“Because it is,” she says with a shrug. “Here. Give me your phone.”

Leigh doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you may or may not have feelings for her.

So, she does what she does best: Pretend.

Leigh pretends you’re not EspressoEyes. In her mind, it could just be a coincidence, and you might not be the person who wrote to her advice column. Without any concrete evidence, she holds onto this notion, using it as a shield to fend off the uncertainties and doubts that would follow if she believed otherwise.

Leigh pretends because she needs your help to figure out how to care for Logan. Because maybe she wants to be friends. When you join her for a run, you don’t press for conversation, a rare companion who's not afraid of silence. Having you around feels like having Matt around, in a way that she's reminded of him when you talk about the same things you like, the same books you've read, and the same music you listen to.

Leigh pretends it doesn’t bother her in case you are EspressoEyes. She’s no stranger to turning heads as she walks down the street, accustomed to the attention. There's a certain power in being desired, and Leigh revels in it. But the idea of you liking her doesn't quite make sense to her; it's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It’s not because you’re a woman—she’s been with women before. What Leigh can't wrap her head around is that you, of all people, could actually be into her. After all, she hasn’t exactly been her most charming self since you two met. Even her best friend is keeping a cautious distance. She’s been wearing down the people closest to her, those who are supposed to like her the most.

And this bewilderment doesn't sit well with Leigh. She is someone who thrives on understanding, on knowing where she stands with people and why. So, when pretending isn’t enough, she does what she does second-best: Avoid.

She must have been waiting in her car outside your clinic for the better part of the evening, debating with herself about what to do next. She's parked just out of view, positioned so she can see the clinic entrance without being too conspicuous. She hasn't eaten dinner yet, her stomach growling, but she remains glued to her spot across from where she knows you're waiting for her.

Ever since you subtly asked her out through text, she’s been on edge, second-guessing her actions (texting and sharing posts on the internet with you all morning, what was she thinking?) and wondering what they might have meant to you. Leigh didn’t mean to leave you hanging—she did come to your clinic, sort of. She remembers typing out a response to you, something witty and non-committal, but her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before pulling back. It felt like too much, too soon. She needed time to think, to figure out why the idea of checking out authentic Japanese food with you left her feeling so conflicted inside.

Leigh's guilt gnaws at her as she sits there, wrestling with how to extricate herself without causing further confusion—or worse, hurt. Eventually, it all comes to a head. She finally gives in, typing out a message to you on her phone with a shaky urgency.

[7:53 PM] Leigh: I'm so sorry, something came up. I can't make it to the clinic after all.

Your reply comes quickly, much to her astonishment, especially since she hadn't opened your message all afternoon.

[7:54 PM] You: It's fine, don't worry about it. I can have Logan's supplies delivered to your place if that works better for you.

Reading your text, Leigh bites her lip, another surge of guilt washing over her. Your kindness, your willingness to accommodate her, only complicates this predicament further.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: Yes, that would be great, thank you.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: How much do I owe you?

As she starts nibbling at her cuticle, Leigh is eager to resolve at least the financial aspect of her obligation. Though she knows she owes you so much more than just Logan’s supplies.

[7:56 PM] You: Like I said, it's on the house. But just this time ☺️

It’s still too generous. But Leigh knows better than to argue further, concerned that insisting might hurt your feelings.

[7:56 PM] Leigh: Thank you. I won’t forget this.

[7:57 PM] You: 😊😊😊

Leigh sighs, remembering her promise that you could visit Logan anytime. She hopes you won’t take her up on that offer too soon, at least not until she has a chance to sort herself out.

Danny isn’t too bad once you get to know him. That's what Leigh learns after more than two months of dating him.

Initially, Leigh wasn't sure what to make of Danny. Their shared wit and sarcasm often put them at odds, like two alphas vying for the upper hand, each one not willing to back down, always aiming for the last word. Yet, in their calmer moments, when the competitive edge fades and they're just enjoying each other's company, Leigh finds something unexpectedly comforting about being with him. He has this confidence about himself that Matt never had, knowing exactly what he wants—and that's her. His straightforward approach makes everything about being with him feel predictable. And lately, she's starting to see predictability as a good thing, a sign of stability. This is a welcome change from the uncertainty that often left her anxious about the future. Plus, all these traits spill over into the bedroom, making the sex between them feel effortless and satisfying in a way she’s never experienced before.

Despite all this, there are days when Leigh finds herself merely tolerating Danny's affections. A part of her remains tightly locked, still bruised from losing Matt, and she's not sure if those doors should—or even can��open again. To compensate, she often says yes when she can, whenever her mood permits her to be giving and amenable.

And it is exactly why she says yes when Danny asks her to go to Palm Springs with him this weekend.

The getaway feels like an extended lazy morning where the concept of time blurs into insignificance. They drift from one hotel restaurant to another, luxuriating in the art of doing absolutely nothing. This routine isn't new to them; it’s the same one they slip into whether they’re at Danny’s apartment or Leigh’s place—only now, the scenery is different, and the sheets they tangle in are expensively soft, boasting a thread count far beyond anything either of them owns at home.

They're lounging by the pool, sipping Margaritas—Leigh with a book in hand and Danny absorbed in his phone—when your name comes up in conversation.

“So, how are things between you and Y/N?” Danny asks, not looking up from his phone.

Leigh stiffens slightly. She carefully moderates her tone, her face schooled into an expression of indifference as she marks her page and looks over at him. “What about me and Y/N?”

“I don't know... are you guys friends now?”

If Leigh weren’t so preoccupied with her own personal concerns about you, she might have recognized the underlying worry his question poses. What he's actually trying to figure out is whether you've come clean to Leigh about his role in Matt’s secret affair with you.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she says. To say otherwise would be a lie, because you’ve been nothing but good to her. Danny seems satisfied with this answer, nodding before returning his attention to his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles. He's back to mindless scrolling, but Leigh can sense the tension from two feet away.

“No, tell me,” Leigh insists, placing her book on the side table between them with a definitive thud. Danny mirrors her actions, setting his phone face down and turning to her with a seriousness that clashes with their otherwise relaxed afternoon.

“I just don't get why you'd be friends with Matt's mistress,” he blurts out suddenly.

Leigh is taken aback. They've never fully discussed what transpired between you and Matt, so she hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to her interactions with you. Believing that he wasn't privy to all the details, she quickly jumps to your defense.

“Y/N didn’t even know Matt was married to me,” she explains, trying to clarify the misunderstanding and protect your integrity.

“Yeah? And you just took her word for it?” Danny doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism, and it irks Leigh more than usual. She doesn't understand why every conversation with Danny has to turn into a challenge or an argument.

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise,” Leigh replies, her voice tightening as she struggles to keep her frustration in check. “I mean, I even went through your phone to see what Matt had been saying to you, and there was nothing there indicating that Y/N knew he was married.”

Danny feels a lump form in his throat. Fortunately for him, Matt hadn't mentioned anything in their texts about Danny being Nick either. He has been debating whether to disclose his role in everything to Leigh. But things between them have gotten serious, and Danny's not so sure he should come clean. Part of him wants to delay—perhaps until they are married with kids, when he's more certain that Leigh won't leave him over a past mistake.

“Look, I'm not saying don’t trust her, but... she used to be in love with Matt, right? You don't think there's a chance she resents you even a little?”

Leigh stops for a second, Danny's words prompting her to consider aspects she hadn't really thought about before. Wrapped up in her own insecurities, jealousy, and pain when she discovered the truth about you, she had never stopped to consider your perspective—how you might have felt learning that the man you had feelings for was married. Did you feel just as fooled and stung as she did? The thought bounces around her head for a moment. From what she can recall, nothing in your behavior has ever suggested that you're a bitter ex. But then, what if you're just exceptionally good at masking your feelings?

Do you really like her, or is it all an act—a scheme?

But then, she remembers the night you gave her Logan, how your smile was nothing but warm, your eyes bright with something that, looking back, Leigh realizes might have been admiration. Not even Danny looks at her like that, whose gaze is always bridling yearning and a desire to possess. Leigh shakes her head, almost laughing at the thought of Danny being right about you.

“Danny, honestly,” Leigh finally says, trying to put an end to the discussion, “if what you're saying is true, I can handle it myself.” It seems the quickest way to close this topic, knowing that debating it could easily consume their entire afternoon and completely derail the purpose of their vacation.

“But doesn't it hurt, having her around? Like a reminder that Matt went for someone else?” He's playing on a different fear now, not questioning your integrity, but poking at the scars Leigh's tried so hard to heal.

Leigh wants to admit the pain never went away. She’s merely learned to co-exist with it. It's like the weather for her: on some days, her mind is a landscape of clear skies, but when the storm hits, it's relentless. For now, she chooses to keep this pain private, unwilling to give anyone the leverage to use it against her or even attempt to fix her. It's her burden to bear, and hers alone.

“No,” Leigh answers, reaching for her book again. “I don’t see it that way anymore.”

Leigh ends her nearly year-long social media hiatus by posting a series of photos from her Palm Springs vacation with Danny. Sharing such personal moments publicly is uncharacteristic for her, especially given her minimal online presence over the past months. Maybe it felt like sending a message to everyone that she’s doing okay. That they can go back to seeing her as just Leigh again—a single, actively dating woman in her early thirties—not as the young widow she was in her late twenties.

Danny's friends are the first to swarm the comments. They tag Danny, peppering the feed with teasing remarks, their comments ranging from jokes about the desert heat to compliments on the couple's sun-drenched physique. It's all typical, light-hearted friend banter, until one comment sharply disrupts the mood:

“Yo, isn't that your brother's wife?”

Leigh deletes the comment within seconds of seeing it.

A few hours later, you ‘like’ her post. Leigh's eyes fix unblinkingly on the notification. She's been idly wondering if you'd seen the post, and now, you’ve confirmed it yourself. But what does that ‘like’ mean?

Is it a nod of approval, a silent indication that you're happy for her? Regardless of what it means, Leigh discovers she was sending another message—one that’s exclusively for you. It tells you that whether you're EspressoEyes, whether you harbor any feelings for her or not, it no longer matters.

She's with Danny now.

Returning from Palm Springs, Leigh feels different—like she’s turned a corner or something. She feels refreshed, and she wants to take on something, such as Drew’s grievances about her advice column. She picks one to start with, something about anniversary ideas, and she's got the perfect story for this.

It was one of those anniversaries with Matt, the kind that stands out from the rest of his surprises because it's so quintessentially him—albeit a little nerdy. He took her away from the city's glare to a secluded spot where the sky was a blanket of stars, untainted by artificial light. After laying out a rug for them to both settle on, he began the painstaking process of setting up a rather complex telescope. It took him nearly an hour, but the wait just made the moment even more special. With the telescope finally ready, Matt pulled out this old, crinkly constellation map and started hunting for one specific star. It was one of the last times Leigh remembered them being truly happy—deeply in love, free from the shadows of Matt’s depression, Leigh’s instinct to fix things, and the small lies that slowly eroded their relationship.

When he finally located it, he excitedly guided her to peer through the telescope. There it is—a tiny speck of light, but it's theirs. Matt turned to her with a bashful smile and revealed that he had 'bought' that star for her.

Leigh shares this story with her reader, emphasizing that it's about understanding what truly moves your partner. For her, it was that star—simple, unexpected, and insanely romantic. She tells her reader to find that one-of-a-kind thing, that personal touch that says “I love you” in a way that can only come from them. Just like Matt did with a star and a starry night.

It's only after she closes her laptop that Leigh realizes tears have been streaming down her face.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It takes a moment to recognize who you've just bumped into. This encounter isn't as jarring as the last; it’s merely a brush of shoulders as you both maneuver to avoid incoming traffic. That ‘incoming traffic’ turns out to be none other than Leigh Shaw.

She's beaming up at you, and it looks genuine despite the sparse interactions since she last canceled on you. You’re still catching your breath, your heart racing from the speed of your run and something else entirely.

“At least I didn’t make you crash on the pavement this time. I'd say that’s significant progress,” you quip, drawing a soft laugh from Leigh. Last week, you made the firm decision to compartmentalize your feelings for Leigh, resolving to see her strictly as a friend. Yet, when faced with reality, such resolutions seem trivial, particularly when that reality includes Leigh smiling at you with her effortlessly charming grin—a smile that, despite your best efforts, still sends a familiar flutter through your stomach and makes your knees feel like they're made of something much less solid than bone.

“Speaking of progress, Logan’s due for his vaccines this week, right?” You remember the schedule clearly, not just because you’re good with dates, but because Logan has become somewhat of a shared responsibility between the two of you—or at least that’s how you still see it.

“Oh, right. I promise I'll swing by. No bailing this time,” she says, chuckling, but there’s a serious undertone that tells you she’s committed to making good on her word this time.

“You better not,” you tease, “Can’t have Logan missing his shots. He’s still very young, and it’s critical we build up his protection against—”

“I won’t, Doctor,” Leigh cuts in, giving you a playful salute that makes you blush. “So, where are you off to after this? I was actually about to grab some donuts for breakfast—”

Leigh pauses mid-sentence as a woman appears at your side. She’s stunning—slightly taller than Leigh, clad in a sports bra and tight yoga pants, with sneakers on her feet. An absolute goddess; even Leigh can’t resist a quick, appreciative glance.

“Who's this?” the woman asks with a British accent, adding the perfect touch to her 5-foot-7 frame.

“This is Leigh,” you introduce quickly, noting the surprise in Leigh's expression. “Leigh, this is Sara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sara says warmly, extending her hand. Leigh shakes it, though her movements are somewhat mechanical. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Leigh’s smile is strained. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly steer the topic back to Leigh's breakfast plan, asking where the donut place is. “It's just down that street,” Leigh points vaguely, but then stops short. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Actually, I just remembered I've got to pick up something from the laundromat.”

You frown, thrown by her sudden change of tune. “Are you sure? We could grab a bite after the run.”

“No, really, I should get going. Maybe next time!” Leigh replies hastily, already stepping back, her exit swift and decisive. As she hurries away, you're left there, watching her leave, trying to figure out what flipped her mood from happy to wanting to escape so quickly.

“Shall we?” Sara nudges you gently, already jogging in place.

You give Sara a nod, but as you start running, you can't help but sneak one last look back. Leigh is quick to put distance between herself and the park. With a sigh, you turn your full attention back to Sara, who’s already picking up the pace, chatting about a new trail she wants to try next weekend.

“Let's go,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you push your legs to match her pace.

Meanwhile, Leigh walks briskly to a different restaurant, forsaking her initial craving for donuts. She can’t quite explain why she fabricated an errand; all she knows is that she needed to get away from you and Sara. Earlier, she couldn't help but notice how close Sara was standing to you, assessing you with a look that seemed a bit too interested. Leigh keeps turning over Sara's words in her mind, puzzling over what she meant by saying she'd heard a lot about her from you.

Why were you talking about her with Sara? Who exactly is Sara to you? Just a friend, or something more?

And what Leigh finds even more perplexing is why she's so troubled by needing to know the answers.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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xorafe · 9 hours

Text

watch and learn (part ten) (end)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

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When you both get to your door, Rafe is kissing you like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You’re giggling between kisses as his big, warm hands cradle your jaw, your heart feeling weightless.

He can’t let go of you. This is such a new, addictive feeling. Liking a girl this much. Knowing she likes him back. Wanting to take on the responsibility of a relationship, something that used to repel him.

You both decide to spend the night in Rafe’s room. You text Liv that you’re home as you get ready for bed, the high from the drugs leaving your body and being replaced by a heavy fatigue.

When you walk into Rafe’s dorm, he recognizes the pajamas you were wearing the night you met. You watch his eyes travel down your body in a smirk before you turn off the lights.

“What?” you ask, hand on the light-switch, gazing at him as he sits up in his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers.

“I remember those,” he mumbles. “You yelled at me in those.”

“Yelled?” you scoff. “I didn’t yell.”

“You gave me so much attitude.” You roll your eyes with a smile, flipping the switch and plunging the room in darkness.

You feel your way to his bed, sinking on top of him, head digging into the crook of his neck.

“Only because you were so rude,” you respond. “Maybe you deserve attitude.”

“What else do I deserve?” Rafe asks, his hands dragging up your back, eyelids heavy. You chuckle and shift to lie on your side and rest your head on his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat.

You close your eyes, arm draped over him, cupping a hand around his hip, rubbing your thumb over his skin.

He has never been touched like this. Affection just for the sake of affection. It’s unlike anything else.

“You deserve anything you want,” you say sleepily. You mean it.

Rafe’s not sure if that’s true. But all he wants is you, endlessly and with no conditions. And he’ll do whatever it takes to deserve you.

He doesn’t know why he ever denied himself the pleasure of spending his first moments awake with you in his arms. Last time you woke up together, he was relieved you rushed out of his room. Now, he just might lose his mind if you leave.

You’re loosely tethered together, your leg over his, your cheek against his shoulder. His chin is resting on your head and he fights the impulse to hug you tighter, not wanting to wake you up.

You start to stir a few minutes later, burrowing against his shoulder, smelling the familiar, perfect aroma of his skin.

“Knew you liked cuddling,” you tease, voice thick with fatigue. Rafe’s chuckle is so innocent that it makes your cheeks warm. You’re in disbelief that last night happened.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Dunno,” he says with a grunt, shifting to grab his phone from his dresser. “I didn’t wanna check and wake you up.”

“Wow,” you coo. “You’re already doing a great job as a boyfriend.”

The word makes his heart leap.

“You remember last night, huh?” he asks. Truthfully, he was a bit worried you were too high to recall everything you said.

“Did you want me to forget?” you say.

“Not a fucking chance.” He unlocks his phone to check the time, but a text from an hour ago takes all his attention.

Sam: yo wtf happened? you trying to get kicked out??

You turn to get comfortable, the side you were lying on aching now, your back flush against his torso.

“The time?” you say tiredly. Rafe turns to spoon you, lips pressing against the back of your head.

He doesn’t know how to say it. He’s pissed off beyond belief at himself for how he acted last night. So he just shows you. He holds his phone in front of you and your eyes travel over the text.

You think back to how frantic Rafe was last night outside of the house after shoving Blake. You don’t know much about fraternities, but getting aggressive like he did against a brother last night seems like a big deal.

It’s his fault for losing his cool, but you can’t help but feel bad for him, knowing he was fuelled by jealousy and protectiveness and insecurity. Nonetheless, he couldn’t control his temper and the consequences might be rough.

“It’s fixable, right?” you say, hopefully. You heard Blake say he was done, but he can’t really be done, can he?

Rafe sighs and puts his phone away, then drapes a heavy arm over your waist.

“Doubt it,” he says bitterly. Your heart aches. At first, you thought frats were just an excuse to party, but you can see how much joy it brings Rafe to be part of something. And now it might be taken away.

“What if you talk to him?” you say. “It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

“I’m not…” Rafe sighs. He’s never been great at talking things out.

“What?” you ask.

“I don’t know what I’d say,” he admits. And the thought of grovelling to Blake to not go to the president of the frat, if he hasn’t already, is humiliating.

“You’d say what you’re thinking,” you say simply. “You did it with me and look how nice that worked out.”

Rafe smiles, glad you can offer him some relief while he’s so flustered.

“Real nice,” he says lazily, his hand sliding down over your hip. His fingers slip under the elastic of your pajama bottoms, dropping to press over your panties.

“Hey,” you breathe. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” His voice reverberates through you as he runs two fingers up and down your middle, the pressure firm and sweet.

“Avoiding your feelings,” you say, breath hitching, “and trying to distract me.”

“Maybe I just wanna touch you,” he rasps, pushing your panties to the side and dipping a finger against your entrance. You tremble under the tender touch.

“I’m being serious,” you say.

“So am I.” His pulse quickens as he feels how warm and soft you are, trailing up to your clit and massaging you slowly.

“Rafe,” you try to assert yourself, but your body naturally tilts towards his touch.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Talk about it,” you say. “Tell me what you were thinking.” Your mind replays how angry he looked last night, how harsh and loud his tone was with a man he thought mistreated you.

“Hmm,” he mumbles, shifting to kiss and suck on your neck. “I was thinking that it killed me to imagine someone else doing this to you…” He’s slow with every circle he traces. “Making you feel like this.”

“Only you can make me feel like this,” you whisper. He exhales deeply. You know just how to wind him up.

“Yeah?” he says. You feel him growing against you. You bite your lip, realizing just how much he loves praise, surely taking every bit he can get with more appreciation that he can show. “No more pointers, huh?”

“None,” you say. “You know exactly what to do.”

Rafe loves that you’re so vocal now, partly because the compliments go straight to his head, but mostly because it means you’re not shy or ashamed about your own pleasure anymore.

He lowers his hand to tease your cunt again, feeling how much you’ve pooled for him.

“So wet for me,” he whispers, his cock starting to ache. “How’d I get you all to myself?”

You breathe through your smile, understanding now that all of Rafe’s words during sex before couldn’t have just been great dirty talk.

You had no idea he was yearning for you this badly. That his jealousy wasn’t only carnal like you told yourself it was.

“I want you inside me,” you say. Rafe groans against your skin, savoring the feeling of being so wanted. You’ve seen him at his worst and still desire all of him. He’s waiting to wake up from the dream that’s you.

You help him push down your bottoms, feeling him shuffle to pull himself out of his boxers. You hike up your leg and feel his hand at the back of your knee, holding you up.

When he pushes into you, your flesh like velvet, he feels complete like he always does with you.

Rafe’s rhythm is slow as he fucks you from behind, the tension in you coiling at a sweet, gentle pace.

“Right there,” you sigh as he hits deep with every thrust. “That’s so good.”

You pull his big hand up to your mouth, kissing the back of it softly. Rafe is on another planet. He thought fucking you was already perfect, but doing it with your hearts so open instead of just your bodies is mind-blowing.

“My sweet girl,” he groans. “You want me to cum inside you?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I’m yours.” Once your words hit his ears, he hugs you tighter, squeezing you with pure adoration as he rocks in and out of you slowly.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, lips wet against your shoulder. “I’m yours, too, baby.”

He fills you so nicely, moving like he has all the time in the world.

You’re both in raptures of delight as you cum, warm bodies pressed hard together, existing in a perfect moment made just for you two.

You fall back asleep and he dozes off behind you, dazed.

It’s almost noon when you stir awake again. Rafe is on his phone, scrolling quietly, waiting for you to wake up. You give him a smile as you pull yourself out of his bed and adjust your bottoms.

“Haven’t you heard of aftercare?” he teases, saying it in the same tone you did the night of the beach party. You laugh, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles.

You pretend to sigh out of irritation, leaning over and kissing his forehead.

“There. A-plus?”

“Not even a pass,” Rafe replies.

“Next time,” you quip. “I’m gonna get ready and then let’s get some food? That’s something couples do, just so you know.”

He loves hearing refer to you two as a couple.

Not many places on-campus are open on Sundays, so after you both get dressed, Rafe drives you to a popular restaurant in town.

As you expected, it’s effortless with him. You both intertwine jokes into your flowing conversations, eyes locked on each other, cheeks hurting from how much you’re smiling.

Rafe didn’t know it could be this easy with someone. Neither did you.

He picks up the bill and holds your hand as you walk back to the car. He rushes to open the door for you, making you laugh in endearment.

“The boyfriend stuff comes naturally to you,” you say, lowering onto the passenger side seat. You don’t see him look shy very often, but when he lowers his eyes and smirks, you can tell the compliment means something to him.

When Rafe starts the car and passes you his phone to pick a song, you choose the first one he played in his room the night of the dorm party.

“Oh, you liked this one?” he teases once the first few notes float out of the speakers, thinking back to the way he had you moaning on his desk.

“I bet I knew it before you,” you reply.

“Couples have… like, songs, right?” Rafe asks awkwardly, putting his hand on your thigh.

“Aw, you want this to be our song?” you coo. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” he laughs.

You put his phone down, eyes trailing over his profile. He squeezes your thigh. For someone who was so against affection, Rafe seems to love it.

You wonder why he restricted himself from what he seems to have wanted for so long, but when you remember how afraid he seemed of fucking things up last night, you realize he has a bit of a self-sabotaging streak when it comes to expressing himself.

“Did you text Sam back?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply.

“Do you want to stop at the house to talk to Blake?”

Rafe just stares ahead, biting the inside of his cheek.

“The longer you wait, the weirder it’ll be,” you say gently. He swallows hard. He knows you’re right.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna say,” he admits after a moment.

“You regret what happened last night, right?”

“Yeah.” He’s still embarrassed that he snapped at Blake over something he didn’t even do.

“Start there,” you say. ”Apologize. Just be honest.”

Rafe drops you off at your dorm, feeling awkward as hell when he drives to the frat house and faces Blake. Thankfully, Blake hasn’t gone to the president with what happened.

Taking your advice, Rafe tells him the truth about how started losing his head when he started losing you. He’d rather die than have to be open with someone he’s been holding animosity over for so long, but Blake seems to appreciate it.

Thankfully, Blake agrees that he doesn’t need to be kicked out for a drunken push, especially since he came to apologize the next day. Rafe has you to thank for that.

“Gossip spreads fast but I’ll say it was a misunderstanding if anyone asks,” Blake says as he walks Rafe out of the house. “Don’t forget about the code of conduct, man.”

Even though Rafe knows he should be grateful he’s not being kicked out, he still has to stifle an eye roll.

“So, we good?” Rafe says.

“Yeah,” Blake says. “You’re volunteering this weekend, right?”

Rafe’s been dreading the fundraising carwash. He thought he could fly under the radar and get away from a day of labor in the sun, but he can’t really say no to anything with being a first-year pledge. Especially now that he just narrowly escaped being kicked out of the frat.

Rafe agrees to participate. And when he tells you about it, you’re much more thrilled about it than he is.

“So, you’re going to be all wet and soapy?” you say with a grin, sitting on your bed together after Rafe gets back from the house and tells you what happened.

“I can get like that now if you want,” he mumbles. You laugh, the memory of hooking up with him in the shower still fresh in your mind.

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught yesterday,” you say. “You wanna almost get kicked out of here, too?”

Rafe smiles, leaning in to kiss you. When you pull apart, you look at him for a moment, eyes tracing down his handsome features.

“I’m really happy it worked out,” you say. It would have crushed you to watch him lose his spot in his frat, knowing how happy it makes him.

Rafe loses all concentration when he sees the sincerity in your eyes. He doesn’t think he’s ever known someone so sweet.

“That formal thing is coming up,” he says once he catches himself, looking down at your lips again.

“If you’re not going to be wet and soapy, I’m not interested,” you respond. Truthfully, you love the idea of seeing him in a suit.

“You’re annoying,” Rafe laughs, shuffling closer to kiss you again.

“You’re annoying,” you reply, your noses bumping. “It’s a Sadie Hawkins dance, right? Girls ask the guys?”

“Go with me,” he says, breath hot on your cheek.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” you laugh. “Girls ask-”

“I don’t care.”

“I was going to ask you.” Your faces remain inches away from each other, talking between kisses.

“Then do it if you really want to.”

“Do you want to go-”

“Yeah,” Rafe interrupts, kissing you again. You giggle against his lips.

That Saturday afternoon, you and Liv are sitting are in her car in front of the Sigma Chi house, the carwash in full swing.

You both laugh when you notice Sam whip a sponge at the side of the car in front of you. You finally find Rafe in the scattered crowd of shirtless boys, baseball hat on backwards, holding a big yellow sponge, wringing it over a bucket.

He looks good. You’ve seen his muscular, commanding body so many times by now, but it excites you every time.

You open your window all the way and catcall him. When Rafe’s gaze meets yours, he smiles. You always look so beautiful to him, your grin so bright.

He walks over to the car, hands on the frame, leaning low to meet your eyes.

“Need some help?” you tease. “You seem to be struggling.” Rafe gazes down your body, loving the idea of seeing you drenched in the short dress you’re wearing.

“No flirting on the clock, dude,” Sam shouts, approaching the car, bending to smile at Liv through her open window. “It’s only okay if I do it.”

In retaliation, Rafe holds your face in his wet hands, kissing you. The gesture earns a few suggestive shouts from his frat brothers.

“We’re supposed to be working, Rafe,” Sam jeers. Rafe flips him off.

“You might wanna roll up the window, baby,” Rafe says quietly to you. “You can hang out in front of the house after.”

You and Liv are in hysterics as the boys hose down and sponge Liv’s car, some of them pressing their bodies up against the windows.

After the show, Liv parks down the street and you two sit on the front steps of the frat house, talking and watching the action. You stare at Rafe the entire time, noticing how girls in cars smile and try to flirt with him.

About ten minutes later, Rafe approaches you, greeting you and Liv. You already caught her up on everything that happened between you and Rafe and she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“What’s up?” you say.

“Need a break.” He adjusts his hat, his wet skin glistening in the sunshine. Truthfully, he just wants to talk to you.

“Does pretending to clean cars make you tired?” you ask.

“Pretending?” Rafe scoffs. “I’m working my ass off.”

“I’m gonna go say hi to Sam,” Liv says with a smile, purposely giving you two privacy. Rafe takes her spot when she leaves, sitting next to you on the steps, his leg pressed up against yours.

“I saw you staring,” he says smugly, nudging your knee with his.

“How could I not?” you say. Rafe feels his cheeks flush with heat. He’s still getting used to the fact that you want him. Really want him.

You notice his eyes trail up your legs, and just to tease him, you drag your hands over your thighs, pinching the hemline of your dress.

“You like my dress?” you ask. You watch Rafe’s jaw tighten as he leans closer to you.

“You’re making me hard,” he mumbles. Your entire body goes hot, looking down at his lap, imagining how good he always feels inside of you.

“We should do something about it,” you say. Your own boldness doesn’t surprise you anymore. Thanks to Rafe, you’re no longer shy asking for what you want.

“Everybody’s outside,” he says, eyes darting to the empty house behind you. You excitedly take his hand.

Rafe leads you to the large, quiet rec room downstairs, and his hands are immediately all over you, sunkissed skin pressing against yours.

He settles on the loveseat, guiding you to straddle him, your dress up around your hips.

“You knew what you were doing wearing this,” he says gruffly, sliding his hands over your ass.

“What? It’s hot out,” you say.

“You gonna keep acting all shy and innocent?”

You perch up to feel his hard length over his shorts. You start to stroke over the fabric, gripping tight.

“Yeah, like that,” he praises. “My good girl. Tell me what you wanna do.”

“I wanna ride you,” you say.

“Fuck,” Rafe grunts with a lazy smile. He kisses you passionately, fingers burying into the flesh of your ass as you grind on him, growing wetter.

The feeling of his hard cock rubbing against you is overwhelming, making you ache for him. Your hands are fast and shaky as you sit up to peel your panties off, watching him pull his shorts down.

He holds himself at his base for you to easily sink onto him, lowering with a sharp inhale. He dips his head back, moaning quietly, eyes squeezing shut.

The brim of his hat pushes against the back of the couch, frustrating him. He pulls it off, and instead of tossing it away, he decides to put it on your head.

“Hold this for me,” he says with a smirk, cradling your cheek.

“You’re never getting it back.” You arch your back as you start to roll your hips, your hands on his shoulders. Your pussy squeezes him so nicely, walls tight around him.

“Damn,” he shudders, watching you, thinking about how cute you look with his hat on and your face relaxed in pleasure. “I’ll give you anything you fucking want.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “All I want is you.”

The words make his heart beat even faster.

“You have me,” Rafe promises breathily. “You have me, baby.”

Your lips meet again as you rock and bounce on him, tight around his girth, head spinning from how big he is and how deep he reaches.

Your hands squeeze his shoulders tightly as you reach your peak. You keep riding him through the overstimulation, taking the help from him as he grips your ass and controls the pace.

Rafe’s breaths quickly grow shallow, panting in your ear as he bucks into you, pulsing through his orgasm.

You sit like that, joined together and kissing for a few minutes, before you pull apart and share a smile.

Throughout the next week leading up to the Sadie Hawkins dance, Rafe texts you random questions, asking you to name your favorite flowers, your favorite sweets, your favorite meal, your favorite drink.

Once he seems to be out of questions, you text him: wow… you sure you havent been a boyfriend before?

The message makes him so proud that he screenshots it.

The night of the formal, Rafe knocks a few minutes before the time you agreed he’d pick you up. You slip into your heels, smooth down your dress and open the door.

You’re striking. There’s no other word for it. The fact that you’re his sends him on a bit of a mental spiral.

“Early,” you tease. “Someone’s eager.” You notice how nicely he fills out his suit, how pretty the bouquet in his hand is.

He can’t tease you back. He can’t say anything. You’re stunning.

“You look so handsome,” you beam. “Are those for me or are you gonna hold them all night?”

Rafe holds your favorite flowers out to you with an awestruck smile.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly.

“Baby, you…” Rafe shakes his head. “I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, putting down the flowers away and taking his hand as you leave your room.

As promised, Rafe won’t stop touching you all night. You’re seated at one of many draped tables amongst frat brothers and their dates.

Liv is across the table with Sam, taking pictures with him on a Polaroid. They both look just as happy as you assume you and Rafe look.

Rafe’s hand is on your knee under the table, rubbing in circles. You lean in closer to him, mouth by his ear.

“Remember when you had a tantrum about holding my hand?” you joke. “Now look at you.”

“I was an idiot,” he replies. He dips his hand to your inner thigh, trying to guide you to sit on his lap. You give in.

“This is supposed to be a classy event,” you laugh, draping an arm around him, looking around at the massive, ornate banquet hall.

“You guys are so cute that it’s gross,” Liv shouts over the music, holding out her camera. “Smile.”

You roll your eyes at her comment and put up your middle finger, realizing Rafe is doing the same at the moment she takes the photo.

“God, you two were made for each other,” she says, amused. Rafe watches you as you laugh, feeling fortunate that you seem to wholeheartedly agree with your friend.

He’s not one for slow dancing, or dancing at all, but when he later notices you looking out at the floor filled with couples swaying together, he tries to force away his discomfort.

“You want to go out there?” he says. You glance at him, melting under his sweet gaze, noticing just how tense he looks.

“We won’t dance if you don’t want to dance,” you say. While he’s working hard to be a good boyfriend, you want to work just as hard to be a good girlfriend and make sure he’s comfortable.

The way you say your words is enough for him to stand up and take your hand. He doesn’t feel awkward as soon as he’s looking down at you on the dance floor, following your lead and your pace.

When the song ends, you walk back towards the table and notice Blake a few feet away, holding a grinning girl.

You’re glad that he let Rafe stay in the frat even though he could have been kicked out for trying to fight one of his brothers. And you meant it when you said you think he deserves a great girl. He seems happy.

As you sit down, Rafe follows your gaze and when he sees you’re smiling at Blake, a burning, painful jealousy flares deep inside.

He steps away towards the bar, wishing they were serving alcohol. He feels the familiar sensation of his temper bubbling up and his muscles tightening.

It’s been a few minutes without Rafe and you look to the bar to see him standing there alone. Something feels off.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing his forearm when you approach him. Rafe looks down at you with irritation, shoulder squared away from you.

“Hey,” he says flatly.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. Rafe’s lips firm as he glances away, taking a sip of his soda.

Confusion and sadness fill you. You should have figured Rafe’s flaws, like his moodiness, wouldn’t simply go away after making things official, but the sensation he’s giving you is uncomfortable and hard to swallow.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he mutters.

“What?”

“You do,” he says with a sarcastic chuckle. “You obviously do.”

“What are you talking about?”

He finally meets your gaze. This is the Rafe you saw so many times over the past few weeks, pissed off and short-tempered. And he knows by now that you don’t tolerate it.

“Why’d you look at him like that?” he mutters.

“At who?”

“At-” Rafe tenses up even more, shooting daggers across the hall. “At Blake.”

“How did I look at him, hmm?” you say, crossing your arms. “Tell me.”

“You were smiling at him.”

“You wanna know why I was smiling?” you ask. Rafe’s mind resorts to assuming you’ll say you chose wrong and that you wish you were here with Blake instead.

“Why?”

“Because I was thinking about how glad I am that he didn’t try to get you kicked out since I know how happy being in a frat makes you,” you explain. “And because it’s nice that he looks happy with that girl. You think I’d smile at the sight of him with another girl if I liked him?”

Rafe steps back, jaw still clenched. For a moment, it feels like he’s still living in the days of agonizingly pining over to you, watching you with another guy.

“You think I don’t get jealous, too?” you say.

“What? When do you-”

“At the carwash. Girls were looking at you all day,” you admit.

“What?” he almost laughs, endeared beneath the pain. He can’t even imagine entertaining another girl.

“Sometimes jealousy comes up in a relationship, Rafe. But this isn’t how you handle it.”

You step away and head towards your seat, frustrated and disappointed.

Rafe finds it hard to come down from his anger, the cruel fear of inadequacy still stinging him. But eventually, he sits down next to you, placing your favorite drink on the table in front of you.

“My bad, okay?” he says, an edge to his tone. You look at him through apprehensive eyes, taking a sip from the cup he gave you.

“You don’t have anything to be jealous of,” you say softly, putting your hand on his under the table.

“I was…” He clears his throat, leaning closer. “I was… thinking that maybe you thought you made the wrong choice.”

The look of pure disbelief on your face calms his racing thoughts. You smile in shock, shaking your head in quick, short jerks.

“The wrong choice was not knocking on your door to tell you to shut up sooner,” you tell him. He looks down at his lap with a small smile.

“Rafe,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“I pick you, okay? Every time. You’re the right choice.”

Rafe’s chest loses its tension. Even in such a loud, crowded hall, you somehow quieted things down for him. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever feel worthy enough for you.

When you make it back to the dorm, you part to get ready for bed. You take the Polaroid Liv gave you out of your purse, smiling at the image of you sitting on Rafe’s lap in formal wear, both of you flipping the camera off with amused smirks.

You tack it onto your wall amongst your other photos. It sums up your playful relationship so well.

Rafe knocks at your door minutes later. At this point, you hardly ever sleep separately.

Within seconds, you’re in your bed, Rafe hovering over you, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your face. Your desk lamp is on, offering both of you a dim, warm light to look at each other in.

You taste his toothpaste and smell his cologne as you kiss, feeling like you’re floating every time you’re under him.

Once he has your bra tossed over your chair, his hot mouth is on your chest, tongue playing with the peaks of your breasts.

You rake your fingers through his hair just the way he likes as he sucks languidly, squeezing gently.

“I love that only I get to do this to you,” Rafe rasps. He was staring at you in awe all night, feeling like he’s dreaming knowing you’re his.

“I don’t want anybody else,” you breathe, trembling in anticipation below him.

His eyes are glazed over when he dips his mouth between your legs, savoring your taste. You tremble as his tongue works over your clit, flattening and tracing shapes.

“How does this pussy get sweeter every time, hmm?” he praises. “You taste so fucking good.”

His hands are still on your tits while he eats you out slowly, burying his face in your middle. He’s sucking and licking at a perfect rate, your moans like music to his ears.

You need all of him now, unable to wait any longer.

“Fuck me,” you whimper. “Please.”

He loves it when you beg.

Rafe melts into you, sliding in and out of you with a hard, fast pressure, the sound of your skin slapping filling your small room. You wrap your legs around him, plastered together in delicious harmony.

Your gazes are locked the whole time and you appreciate every feature of his face, from his eyes to his lips.

He’s hard and rough and vigorous as he gets closer, your bed squeaking, his hand cupping your head, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone.

Your peak comes in shockwaves, uttering his name as you unravel beneath him. His orgasm weaves in with yours, his body tensing before he loosens completely, losing himself in you.

Rafe pulls out and stays hovering over you, propped up on his elbows, while the rest of his body covers you like a blanket. He gazes at you with adoring eyes, revelling in how you look when you’re so pleased.

He feels like an idiot for ever assuming he’d want something solely physical with you. That he wouldn’t want all of you.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” you laugh. “That was… nothing to be sorry for.”

“Before, when I said I was satisfied,” he says, guilt still eating away at him even though he said it weeks ago. “I lied. I’ll never get enough of you. It…”

“It what?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“It scares the shit out of me. How much I like you.”

The butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“Rafe,” you say with a sad smile, placing your hand on his cheek, your heart heavy. “I’m scared, too. But the whole point of this is trusting we won’t hurt each other.”

“What if I keep fucking up like I did tonight?” he mumbles. He’s terrified that he’ll be a victim to his own temper and insecurity forever, eventually driving you away.

“I’m not asking for perfection,” you say. “I’m just asking that you’re direct with me when something’s bothering you. And that you try to fix it when you do fuck up. Because I’m never going to blame you for having feelings. Ever.”

Rafe’s eyelids drop as he looks down at your lips, nodding, half-convinced. You take a deep breath, hoping your next words aren’t too raw.

“That one day, I… I heard you get yelled at… for crying,” you say. Embarrassment pricks his skin and Rafe drops his head, resting his cheek on your sternum, hearing your heartbeat. He can’t look at you.

Your fingers rake into his locks again, heart still aching from overhearing his father’s words.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I only brought it up to tell you that you don’t deserve that. It’s okay to feel things. I know you think it’s weak but it’s not. Has he always done that to you?”

He only nods.

“That’s…” You don’t have the words, disgusted and angry.

“Maybe he’s right. I should man up.”

“Man up? That’s what he tells you? God,” you mutter. “You are a man. That shit is so stupid. I’m so glad I yelled at him.”

Rafe remembers how jarred he was when he saw how pissed off you were, snapping at his father, a man you’ve never met before.

“Nobody’s ever done that for me.” He wanted to tell you this the day it happened, but his jealousy ruined things when you smiled at a text from Blake.

Something in you shatters thinking of Rafe as a young boy, being berated, nobody standing up for him. He must have felt so lonely.

“Well, I’ll keep doing it,” you promise, feeling protective as hell over him.

Rafe didn’t know what having a girlfriend meant. He never expected he’d feel so safe with someone.

“And I’ll fuck up, too, okay?” you say. “And I’ll just buy you more protein powder when I do. That’s like flowers for you, right?”

Rafe chuckles, squeezing your hip.

“You won’t fuck up.”

“I will,” you laugh. “I’m not perfect.”

“Yes, you are,” he mumbles. “Don’t say that shit ever again.”

“You’re kind of setting me up for failure, frat boy,” you joke. He lifts his head to look at you again, his heart racing. Then something catches his eye on your wall.

Rafe can’t find the words when he sees it. It’s the Polaroid of you and him from earlier tonight, flipping the camera off.

He remembers the first night he was in this room, looking at your photos, thinking how pretty you were. And now he’s part of this collection. Part of your life.

“What?” you say.

“The picture,” he says.

“I can make you a copy if you really want one,” you tease, still playing with his hair.

Life has never felt brighter for him. He does want a copy. He immediately imagines it sitting in his wallet, inside his phone case, on his dashboard. He’s already planning to take a photo of it and make an Instagram post with the lyrics of your song.

Rafe shifts to kiss you again, allowing the bliss and awe and fear and vulnerability to take over.

He started this wanting no strings attached. Now he’ll be tying you together for as long as you let him.

(the end)

author’s note: writing “the end” is always more bitter than it is sweet 🥲 thank you to everyone who read and supported this series! if you had a “couple song” in mind, let me know what it was - i’m curious! i found “miss summer” by odie was my fav song to listen to when writing the fluff scenes hehe i think it covers how rafe feels perfectly. love you all 💋

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

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ldrfanatic · 1 day

Text

two worlds collided

theodore nott x fem!malfoy!ravenclaw!reader

a.n. this is quickly becoming a theo obsession blog BUT I am open to requests for others

love theo in this piece.

to be added to my theo nott taglist just comment on one of my theo nott posts :)

synopsis - you're draco's sister but you're a ravenclaw. your father shunned you because he thought that voldemort wouldn't want you but when Nott sr is trying to find theodore a bride your father takes this as the perfect opportunity. over time you grow to genuinely care for one another.

warning - cursing, lucius malfoy is a prick, hitting, borderline verbal abuse, arranged marriage

accompanying song - never tear us apart (bishop briggs)

nav slytherin boys

"Father is asking for you."

Shock washed over you and you wondered if you submerged yourself into your cloud-like bed if Lucius would just forget about it. After carefully weighing your options, it seemed rather unlikely. You threw your navy covers to the side and shuffled awkwardly to the main dining hall where your mother, father, and older brother Draco were waiting.

Your eyes fell onto a rather scary looking man and another handsome figure who you recognized as Theodore Nott, one of Draco's friends.

"Daughter." The warm velvet tones of Narcissa Malfoy filled the air. After you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, Draco and Lucius had shunned you. Narcissa had been the only person in the entire family still kind to you. Well, she and your estranged aunt Andromeda who you'd been secretly exchanging letters since third year.

"Now that the Dark Lord has gained strength, it is imperative that we maintain close connections within the Sacred 28." Lucius approached you, looking rather unhinged, and placed a large hand on your shoulder. There was a malicious look in his eyes that made the entire interaction all the more unnerving. "Once the Dark Lord begins his plans, he'll need people he can trust to continue the most important of magical bloodlines."

Your father took you by the shoulders and moved you to stand in front of Theodore and the mystery man at his side.

"This is Theodore Nott Sr. and his son, who I presume you know from school."

Nott Sr. glanced to the side at Theodore who snapped out of a sort of trance. He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it.

"Y/n."

You smiled but didn't say anything, waiting in silence for your father to elaborate. He and Nott Sr. had clearly formed some sort of plan. "You and his son are to be married."

"What?!" Your body whipped around of its own accord and you felt rage explode over your body. "You haven't spoken to me in years and suddenly you expect me to marry this man without even asking me if I wish to be married to him or anyone for that matter?!"

Lucius' hand came down suddenly. A loud 'whack' resounded in the room as the back of his palm made contact with your cheek. "You ungrateful little brat." He straightened his cloak and took what you supposed was meant to be a calming breath. "Draco noticed the way that you stared at the Nott boy in school. You ought to be more appreciative that I didn't choose that awful Pucey boy although he was more than willing."

Though you couldn't see, Theodore's nose turned up in disgust at the mention of Adrian Pucey. He'd taken a liking to you, completely undeterred by the elder Malfoy's numerous threats to stay away from his younger sister. Draco might've been appalled that you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, but that didn't mean that he was gonna let that slimey tosser terrorize you.

Your gaze stayed on the floor for a few moments before you turned back around, muttering a small apology to Theodore and his father. Overall, Theo was quite handsome and you had stared at him more than a few times. He really was quite handsome.

Nott Sr. studied you for a few moments then turned to Theodore expectantly. "Why don't the two of you take a stroll and become acquainted while Lucius and I finish up the particulars." It was phrased like a question, but in truth he wasn't asking. The air was silent as you walked out of the room the brunette boy following diligently.

The cool air nipped at your exposed skin as the heavy oak door slammed shut behind you. It was always cold and dark in the area surrounding Malfoy Manor.

"I'm sorry Theodore."

"Theo."

You stared at Theodore like a fish out of water waiting for words of any intelligence to come to you. Finally, you stuttered out an ignorant 'Huh?'.

"Call me Theo."

Your heart beat loudly in you ears for a few moments. "Oh-kay," Theo began to mosey into the Manor gardens with you hot on his heels. He was quite tall and due to the length of his legs, every one step he took was nearly three of yours. "So Theo. I am sorry you got dragged into this."

"That's alright fiancée." Theo teased you with a smile that could make any girl weak in the knees. For a moment you felt as though you could almost forget that the both of you were being forced into this.

"Still. I know your reputation. I only ask that you keep your conquests separate from our entanglement."

An indescribable akin to hurt flashed in the eyes of the boy before you. As well as something you didn't quite recognize.

"My reputation?" You spluttered at him for a few moments once again making a fool of yourself in front of Theodore Nott.

"Theo I didn't mean to--"

"Whatever." He turned away from you and stalked angrily back towards the Manor, calling over his shoulder. "And it's Theodore."

The rest of the break passed by pretty miserably, as expected. You and Theodore had gone on a few dates, as demanded by both your father and Nott Sr. since the pair of you were courting now, but they were long and excruciating with little to no conversation.

Despite a summer that seemed as though it would never end, September finally arrived.

You were boarding the train with Theodore and Draco as your parents watched on. They'd been keeping an extra close eye on the pair of you. In all honesty, you and Theodore hadn't grown any closer in your courtship than you'd been as distant acquaintances the year prior. If anything, the walk in the garden at the start of your relationship had forced you further apart.

And though you'd pretended you didn't care, seeing Theodore with other girls was never something you'd enjoyed. Now, knowing that he'd be your husband sooner rather than later, the thought of Theo running around with some daft blonde Slytherin made your heart sink to your stomach.

Yet, as the year progressed, you and the rest of Hogwarts were unexpectedly surprised by Theo. Before you knew it, the first snowfall graced Hogwarts in November, and Theodore hadn't had any flings with any girls. He was even turning down girls that had been brave enough to approach him and make the first move.

Without your parents to keep the two of you tightly bound, you and Theodore hadn't spoken since the train in.

Through all of this, you hadn't expected to become close friends with Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl in Theo and Draco's year. But she'd walked up to you during breakfast one morning and the two of you really hit it off.

Hence why currently, you were sat on Pansy's bed while she worked on her charms homework. And she was putting her absolute all into trying to convince you to ask Theo to Hogsmeade.

"C'mon Y/n! It might be fun."

"If by fun you mean he'll humiliate me in front of the entire student body." You mumbled under your breath. You tried to tune her out so as to focus on the book you were currently attempting to read, but she was determined.

"According to Blaise Theo's been talking about you when Draco isn't around to glare at him for it."

"Look Pans, I know you're in love with the bloke but have you considered that Blaise may be confused? Or simply taking the mickey?" Pansy shot you an unimpressed look. "Theo and I haven't spoken since September. In any case, if he's turning down long legged red heads who are all but stripping in front of him, what makes you think he'd want to go out with me?"

"Because he's already agreed to speak with you in the Slytherin Common Room tonight."

"What?!"

Pansy ignored your protests and damn near dragged you down to the common room with an iron grip on your wrist. When you got there, Theo was spread out on one of the expensive leather couches with a cigarette in between his lips. Yet as he noticed you approaching, he immediately dropped it and put it out with a stomp on the stone floors.

"Y/n."

The sonorous tones of Theo's voice bounced off each wall of the common room and seemed to warm you from the inside out. His voice was so inviting that you almost believed you could actually do this.

There is, however, one thing to know about Theodore Nott. No matter how inviting or pleasant Theo's aura is, you'd made a promise to yourself not to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you made the unfortunate mistake to look Theodore Nott in his malachite eyes, you'd lose all ability to think, speak, even breathe properly.

It wasn't until you saw his shoes enter your line of sight that you knew that he'd approached you at all. Worse, when his large hand found purchase under your chin and lifted your gaze to meet his, you knew that you were well and truly fucked.

In that most regrettable moment, you realized how much you'd fallen in love with Theodore. During shared hushed dates and the rare moments of laughter. Theodore Nott had completely enraptured you. And you realized much too late to do anything about it.

So now here you stood. Lost in the beautiful blues and greens of your fiancée's eyes. You were completely, 100% at Theodore Nott's mercy. And likely not for the last time in your life, you felt the urge to give into him. He was a sin that you'd willingly drown in.

"Bellisima," Theo's voice thickened as he spoke. You couldn't understand what he was saying nor could you place the language. But in all honesty, you hadn't known that he even spoke any other languages. His tongue wrapped effortlessly around each syllable and his voice deepened even more than usual, if possible. "I asked you a question."

"Huh?"

"You've been avoiding me." He stepped closer and your heartbeat spiked. "Why?"

Why had you been ignoring Theo again? How could you, or anyone for that matter, ever dream of not giving this devastatingly handsome man everything he desired and more? Oh yeah. Your wretched father.

"You've already been roped into entrapment with me and then forced to hang out with me all summer. I didn't want to cause anymore turmoil to your peace than I already have."

Theo's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. Once again you'd gone and offended the poor boy.

Immediately, you opened your mouth to apologize, but he cut you off.

"D'you know for a Ravenclaw, you really can be rather thick sometimes?"

You felt your jaw drop in shock. The small grin he currently sported on his face let you know that he'd obviously been teasing. And for the umpteenth time since knowing him, Theo stole your breath with his stupid mesmerizing smile.

Yet, through all of that, he was right. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Theo finally seemed to get the hint that he was going to have to spell this out for you.

"I know you probably don't know this about me, but I never do anything that I don't want to. No matter who's asking."

You continued to stare at him blankly. Had he hit his head during the last quidditch match?

Theo ran a hand stressfully through his hair. He grabbed your wrist and led you back to the couches where you settled comfortably in the seat next to him, careful to maintain a respectful distance. "Merlin, Y/n. Turns out you Malfoy's are all slow."

"No offense." He added on quickly when he saw the look on your face. "That's not the point. Y/n I never would have agreed to this engagement with you if I didn't actually want to. I know that you did not get a say in the matter so if you truly wish to live our lives separately, I will respect your choice." Theo gently pulled your hand until it was safely tucked in between both of his larger ones.

"But whatever your decision, know that I am yours. I have wanted nothing more in the past few months than to be by your side. And every moment I spend without you is inexplicable torture for my soul."

"Theo."

He shook his head and cradled you face between his palms.

"No. My mother had a saying. Lascia che la vita accada. It means 'let life happen'. She believed that the only way to truly know if something is meant for you is to let life make it happen on its own. So take a few days. I'll meet you Saturday morning in the Great Hall. But know that if you agree to be mine, Tesoro, you'll be mine for eternity."

To say that staying away from Theo in the days following was easy would be a complete and total lie. When you told Pansy about the conversation the pair of you had (or lack thereof really) she'd all but exploded.

Finally, Saturday morning rolled around. You'd genuinely thought about all your options and you'd come to a decision. The only issue with Theo's plan is that Saturday was the infamous Gryffindor v Slytherin Quidditch match. The Great Hall was bustling in seas of only red or green. You were sporting a dark green jumper, a show of obvious support for the Slytherin team.

Those of your house that favored Gryffindor looked on at you with disdain as you stood from your bench and began making your way to the Slytherin table in search of Theo. He was one of Slytherin's chasers so trying to find him during such a hectic morning proved difficult.

As you walked up and down the table, a familiar figure appeared in front of you.

"Ahh Malfoy. I've been looking for you. I was wonderin' if you'd wear my jersey."

Before you had time to respond or even acknowledge the situation at all, Adrian Pucey had shoved his green and silver practice jersey into your arms. It was an incredibly common practice for girlfriends and boyfriends of Quidditch players to wear their partner's jerseys to their games for good luck.

The hall fell silent as the sound of glass breaking reverberated through the air. You looked to the source of the noise. Theo had stood so abruptly from his seat next to Blaise and Lorenzo that his entire breakfast went flying and ended up on the floor.

He was staring at you with clear ache in his eyes. Suddenly, he swung himself over the bench and stormed out of the room.

You threw Adrian's awful smelling jersey back at his face and ran frantically after Theo.

"Theo!" He ignored you and continued walking briskly even as you approached quickly on his heels. "Theodore please. Just let me explain."

"You don't owe me an explanation, dolcezza ragazza. You've made your choice."

"You've got it all wrong. That's not my decision. I don't want that." You cried out as tears brimmed your eyes. The thought of losing Theo because of Adrian Pucey was mournful.

"Hey, hey. Calma tesoro. Breathe." Theo's hands one again found their way to your face. He gently thumbed the tears from your face. "Don't get yourself all worked up. I'll always listen to you."

"Adrian he just sort of threw his disgusting jumper at me. I don't want him. I only want you. I'm yours, Theodore Nott, completely and without hesitation."

The grin on Theo's face was nothing short of heart-stopping.

"Does that mean you'll wear my jersey at the game today?"

wc 2.6k oops

4.17.24

-- taglist --

@thatdammchickennugget @moonlightreader649

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys x reader #lorenzo zurzolo #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson

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revehae · 2 days

Text

maneater (r. fantasies)

warning: noncon, semi-public sex, jisung × (f) reader x jaemin

wc. 1.3k

love that i wrote this for @neocentral and she’s also the only reason i was able to recover this 🫶🏽 EVERYONE SAY WE LOVE YOU BELLE

maybe it was jisung's fault, the unfortunate outcome of his generous naivete. foolishly, he had mistaken your kindness for infatuation, your exuberant flashes of teeth when you glanced his way as flirtatious gestures of mutual affection.

jisung wouldn't consider himself a loser. he had a couple of friends. sure, he wasn't the most popular guy around, especially not with girls, but that didn't make him a loser. there was no reason to doubt his chances with one of the campus' most popular students, especially not when you made it so easy to like you.

too easy, jisung would think, clenching his pale, whitened knuckles into stiff fists when he saw other guys talking to you, checking you out from head to toe like you were a fresh slab of meat on display.

deep down inside, even if he refused to admit it to himself, jisung couldn't fault them like he wanted. your wit was admirable and your beauty rivaled that of goddesses. to say nothing of the fact that you were so amicable and approachable, maybe too approachable.

idiotically believing under the trance of your bewitching stare and enthralling smile that you reciprocated jisung's less than platonic feelings for you was his first mistake.

mustering the courage to approach you and ask you out was his second.

at the very least, you were sweet enough to let jisung down gently. even as you ripped his thudding heart out his chest and shredded it with bared teeth, unraveling the thread upon which his very world spun, your lips were fixed in a perfect smile as you apologetically told him that you didn't feel the same way, tenderly brushing your hand against his.

how kind of you to shatter his heart in the most beautiful way possible. you had to have done this a dozen times before, maybe even twice as much, so accustomed to rejecting every male's advance that you knew all the right words to say.

"you'll forget you ever felt this way," you'd told him at one point, most of your other words becoming white noise to his ears as indignation poked holes into his chest and swallowed him whole.

jisung liked to think that he handled the rejection fairly. outwardly, at least, it was true. you wouldn't have guessed from looking at him that the world as he knew it had been upturned and rage was festering in side of him quickly and brutally. he should've listened to his friends when they told him, dude, she's a maneater.

to think only days ago jisung thought so highly of you. now, whenever he saw you, only the most degrading of words came to mind. what a picky, arrogant whore, hissed his thoughts bitterly.

you must've thought you were so much better than him. you must've got a good laugh at his expense, leading him on and making him believe even for a minute that you liked him the way he liked you. or maybe you were just playing hard to get, so entitled that you thought he would chase you.

wrong. jisung was not like those other guys that would come begging at your feet and he refused to lower himself to such degradation, solely so that you could feel better about yourself.

it had to only have been a couple of weeks forward, jisung's anger intensifying by the day, when he heard those godawful noises coming from just around the corner.

he recognized that voice - your voice. jisung would never admit that he was obsessed with you, but there was no doubt in his mind that the high-pitched, agonized cry he heard came from between those glossy lips of yours.

naturally, it was jisung's first instinct to investigate, to wonder what was so terrible that you were shrieking so sharply. he became especially curious when the sound was cut off, suspicious sudden and abrupt, as if it had been muffled.

jisung tiptoed around the corner, quiet as to not disturb the scene unfolding just shy of him. although, given how busy the city was, bustling with everyday life, it would've been more difficult to hear him approaching.

jisung nearly gasped at what he saw, poking his head around the sturdy brick wall and spotting your frame caged behind jaemin's as your back was pinned harshly against a cold wall.

"shh, sweetheart." jaemin crooned, tone of voice cheating his violent hands. "wouldn't want anyone else to see you like this, now would you? imagine how hard it would be for you to have a good future if all anybody saw when they looked at you was this loose little pussy."

jisung wanted to say that that was already what people saw, but he held his tongue. he didn't want to risk making his presence known. one slightly wrong move, one bad step, and both of you would know that he was watching, lurking discreetly in the shadows.

shameless, jisung whispered in his brain, shaking his head as he kept his eyes locked on the incident in front of him. jaemin was forcing himself onto you in broad daylight, for fuck's sake. without a care in the world if anyone saw him.

even as people walked only mere feet away from the sight, burdened with the tasks of their own problems. people that wouldn't randomly think to check around an alleyway to see if there was a girl attempting to fight off her attacker.

your face was familiar, but hardly recognizable all at once. your usual heart-stopping smile was surely upturned into a piteous frown, though it was obscured from jisung's vision as jaemin smothered your screams with his palm. moisture stung your eyes, gathering at your lashes and dripping thickly down your tear-stained cheeks.

even with jaemin's palm pressed flat against your mouth, your whimpers still faintly traveled through the hot, stuffy air. you thrashed in his burly arms, struggling to wrest your way out, but jaemin kept you in place with his spare arm.

part of jisung was bristling with pain and seething with white-hot anger watching another guy touch in ways only he should've been able to, but he couldn't move and he definitely couldn't look away. your stiff nipples were exposed from where jaemin had yanked your shirt down, jisung arriving only moments to see how jaemin sucked at licked at the tender buds.

"i don't take no for an answer," jaemin whispered, stuffing you full of his thick, veiny cock. your pussy was sore from how vigorously he was using you, but nothing would stop jaemin from doing as he pleased if he wanted it enough.

jisung's cock twitched in his light sweatpants. he only wished he could've felt the way your cunt squeezed his cock for dear life, milking it for every last drop of cum like it did jaemin's. if only he would've had the courage to slam you against a wall and take what he wanted, show you who was in charge.

it kept him up sometimes fantasizing about how tight and wet you were as he fisted his own cock to ecstasy. the sight of jaemin abusing your poor little cunt was infuriating, but erotic. not taking out his cock and pumping in his hand took all of jisung's willpower.

watching how wide your gorgeous, fretful eyes were, how your chest heaved quicker and quicker, skipping breaths to get to the one that came after, jisung almost felt bad for you. he liked to think he would've been much more tender, had he gotten the opportunity, setting the mood and taking his time to please you.

until you broke his heart. now, whatever happened to you was out of his hands and jisung couldn't have cared less, ignoring the panic in your body language and obvious pain tensing your features.

jisung had the power to stop his friend if he really wanted, to intervene and save you from your troubles, and he most likely would've, had you not wounded him. but he remembered the gash still fresh on him, your smiles rubbing salt in the cut, and decided this was what you deserved. you'd get over it.

yeah, she'll forget she ever felt this way, jisung mimicked resentfully, those words burned onto his heart harshly. so in the end, against jisung's better judgment, he kept on walking.

#park jisung smut #tw: noncon #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #jisung smut #nct dream x reader #jisung x reader #nct jisung smut #revehae fantasies

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days

Text

if you want to use me, i could be your puppet

for @subeddieweek day four with the prompt edging

rated e | 2,505 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one: ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie didn’t think this through.

Running from Steve’s bedroom, naked, meant he would have to find a hiding place.

He did not want to have to deal with this right now.

He didn’t need Steve seeing the way Eddie’s feelings would no doubt show on his face, how he’d be quick to brush off Steve’s apology.

How quickly he’d agree to continuing what they’re doing so he had something rather than nothing at all.

The house was quiet, dark, a reminder of how lonely Steve probably was when he wasn’t busy with the kids or Robin or him. No wonder he was always so quick to jump in bed with Eddie; He wanted a warm body to keep him company.

“Eddie! Wait!” Steve’s voice came from the top of the stairs, but Eddie didn’t turn.

Maybe if he locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, Steve would give up and he could sneak out to his van wrapped in a towel or something. He’d done worse.

Unfortunately, Steve was much faster than him, probably due to the whole jock thing. Eddie had no chance.

Steve’s hand burned where it touched Eddie’s arm, trying to make him turn around and face him.

“Please, Eds. Please look at me. Let me-”

“I don’t want you to explain, Steve.” Eddie turned to him, suddenly angry. How dare he ruin what they were doing? How dare he take something that was so precious and send it careening off the road so quickly? “I want to pretend it never happened. I want to go back to letting you touch me and kiss me and hurt me just right. I want to know you don’t mean it.”

“Why?” Steve sounded angry. “Why would you want that? Is it that bad? What is it about me loving someone that makes them wanna run in any other fucking direction than to me?”

And Eddie wasn’t really prepared for that.

He didn’t really know exactly what happened with Nancy or any of the other girls Steve had been with in high school. He didn’t really know much about any of his casual hookups. He just knew that Steve gave so much to anyone he cared about, and many people took more than was fair of him to give.

“Why can’t I love you, Eddie?”

Eddie looked at Steve, really looked at him.

His eyes were watery, red-rimmed as if he was doing everything he could to resist letting the tears fall. Eddie could see his flush cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold back a sob. His hands shook.

Eddie recognized this for what it actually was. Sure it was emotion, and maybe Steve felt it was genuine emotional turmoil.

But it was also the start of a panic attack, one that would quickly escalate to something Eddie wasn’t sure he could help Steve through.

“Steve, hey-”

“Don’t fuckin’ pacify me, man.” Steve’s breathing picked up and Eddie had to shut this down. “I can be upset.”

“Yes, you absolutely can. I’m not gonna tell you how to feel, but you definitely need to breathe, nice and slow.” Eddie put his hand on Steve’s bare chest, forgetting for a moment that they were both still naked, both still sweaty and sticky from everything they did in Steve’s bed.

“I am breathing.”

“You’re panting. You need to sit down.”

“I’m not sitting down-”

“Red.”

Steve froze.

Eddie immediately regretted saying it, hated that he was using this in a situation outside of their agreement.

He just needed Steve to stop and take care of himself for a second.

“That’s not fair,” Steve’s voice was shaky, unsure. He’d never heard it like that, not even when they first started this, not when they discussed the difficult things.

“It may not be fair, but neither is what you said.” Eddie looked behind him at the couch, the same couch Steve had held his hand while they talked about what they’d be into trying together. “Can we sit?”

“I dunno, are you gonna run again?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, which would be a hilarious image any other time, but was currently just really sad.

“No. I’m not gonna leave.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Eddie agreed.

They both sat down on the couch, shifting until there was enough distance not to touch, facing each other.

Steve threw the blanket over their laps to at least make an attempt at being serious.

“I’m sorry I said it like that.” Steve sighed as he put his head back against the couch. At least he seemed to be holding himself together better now. Maybe Eddie could have a turn at a breakdown. “I shouldn’t have said it when we were still…”

“You shouldn’t have said it at all, Steve.” Eddie watched as Steve ground his teeth together. “I know you may think that’s what you’re feeling, but you were on a sex high.”

“I can see why you’d think that,” Steve sounded like he was doing his best to stay calm. “That’s why I shouldn’t have said it then. But I did mean it. That hasn’t changed and it won’t change.”

“Steve, be serious.”

“I am! I need you to be serious! I love you. I’ve loved you for long enough to know that’s what it is.” Steve turned his head and gave him a sad smile. “I know it wasn’t supposed to happen, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I’m glad I said it, even if it wasn’t how I planned to.”

Eddie had to remind himself to breathe as Steve’s words sank into his brain, consumed his chest and stomach, made the nerves in his body spark with a combination of hope and fear.

“How long?” Eddie squeaked out.

“You remember that night when we talked about our limits?” Steve grinned.

“That was…so long ago. What the hell?” Eddie slapped Steve’s knee, but didn’t pull it away fast enough. Steve’s hand grabbed his. “We’ve been around each other almost every day since then.”

“And I thought about it every day,” Steve admitted. “I was gonna ask you on a date first and make it a big romantic thing. I had a plan.”

“Steve, I-” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to say these things to me to keep me around. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s lining up at my door. I wouldn’t trust anyone the way I trust you with all this. I kinda figured you’d be the one to call it off soon.”

Steve moved the blanket for a moment, tugged Eddie into his lap, and tilted his head to the side.

“I’m not going anywhere, Eds. You’ve got me and I’ve got you.”

How did he do that? How did he sound so sincere, so charming, after such an emotional admission?

“You’ve got me?”

“I’ve got you,” Steve surged forward, lips crashing against Eddie’s as his hands left bruises on his hips.

Eddie would be an idiot to let him go.

He would have to trust that Steve meant it, and he’d have to trust that his heart would be safe in Steve’s hands.

He already trusted him with everything else.

The blanket that had barely been around his waist slipped, half pooling on the couch next to them and half falling to the floor.

Steve pulled away, breathless.

“Will you?” He asked.

Eddie had no idea what he was actually asking. “Will I…?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Yeah, Stevie. I’ll go on a date with you. You’re buying, though,” Eddie winked.

“Of course,” Steve nodded, leaning up to peck him on the lips. “I was thinking about a road trip. Heard there’s a new record shop opening in Bloomington if you wanted to check it out.”

“Fuck, you really do love me, don’t you? You know I could spend hours in there, right?” Eddie’s heart couldn’t handle the soft look in Steve’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll bring a cooler with drinks and snacks. It’ll be fun,” Steve shrugged.

Eddie inched back the tiniest bit and was suddenly reminded that they were very naked. And Steve was getting hard again.

“You know…this house is kinda quiet. Maybe we could…”

“Oh, you wanna be loud?” Steve raised his brow. “Hm. I guess I should give you a reason to be.”

The tone was different, not quite his usual teasing demand, but something that left Eddie wanting.

“Please. God, Steve, I need it, need you,” Eddie had no idea where this begging came from, or why he suddenly felt like he would die without Steve’s hands on him.

“I know what you need, baby,” Steve kissed his jaw, soft for what Eddie knew was coming. “But I need you to tell me your color first.”

“Green, so green.”

“Hey.” There was the demanding tone. “Look at me.”

Eddie had no choice but to look.

“I need you to think about it. Don’t think about how desperate you are. Are you okay with everything we talked about? Are you okay with me loving you?”

Eddie thought about it. Was he actually okay with their short conversation, the feelings Steve admitted to, what that would mean going forward for them? Or was he desperate in more ways than one?

No, no he definitely was okay with this. He’d been so worried that his feelings would never be returned, that he’d be in an endless loop of unrequited love, that he’d do what Steve did and let it slip while he was in space.

Having the guy he loved love him back was a best case scenario for him.

“Green.”

Steve’s lips were back on his, hungry, rough, almost more than Eddie was prepared for, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He sunk into the feeling, let himself drift into Steve physically so he could carry him away mentally.

“Wanna get my fingers in you. Think you can handle just spit?” Steve said as he nipped at Eddie’s neck, leaving red, leaving teeth marks. Eddie wished they could be permanent. Maybe he’d get them tattooed.

“Mhm, please,” Eddie nodded, ignoring the tiny part of his brain that was telling him to be responsible and get the lube. He’d be sore if they didn’t.

The louder part of his brain didn’t care about that, wanted to be sore. He could feel good now and deal with the limp tomorrow.

Steve’s fingers ghosted over Eddie’s lips, pressing down until his mouth opened. He sucked them in, three of them, moaning around them as he made sure they were slick enough to get inside with little resistance.

They were both impatient.

Steve pulled his fingers from Eddie’s mouth only a few seconds later, gently patting his cheek with his other hand when he whined at the loss.

“You’ll have me inside you again, baby.”

Steve didn’t waste another second.

His wet fingers rubbed against Eddie’s entrance, fingertips teasing along his rim and just barely pushing inside one at a time.

It was too much, not nearly enough, and almost exactly what Eddie needed all at once.

He was so close already, teetering on the edge of coming without a hand on him or fingers actually inside him, and it would probably be embarrassing if Eddie could think about a single thing that wasn’t the way heat was pooling in his stomach and chest.

“Close,” Eddie whimpered, bucking up against nothing as if that was even necessary.

Steve’s hands were gone. Just like that. No warning at all.

Eddie whimpered again, reaching his hands out to touch, to beg, to do whatever would get Steve’s hands back on him and finish the job he started.

“No, baby,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

And so it went.

Steve got a finger inside him, barely thrusting it in and out before removing it completely when Eddie would start rocking back into the touch.

Then there were two fingers, and Eddie could just barely feel the pressure against his prostate, begging for more or less or something that would be different from the current hanging by a thread he was doing.

He could feel himself drifting, knew he was mentally checking out from what was happening, but he could still hear Steve’s rough voice soothing him, guiding him.

Three fingers pressed inside him, slower than before, stretching him in a way he never could himself.

He felt full, used.

“Color, sweet boy,” Steve said from somewhere in front of him. Eddie was having trouble centering himself, couldn’t quite figure out where he was physically even though he knew he was with Steve.

The fingers inside him stilled, not working him open further or pushing and pulling until Eddie was naturally rocking back and forth.

Steve needed an answer. Eddie had to give him one.

“Green.”

“Good boy,” Steve praised.

Eddie pretended that didn’t make his heart flip-flop in his chest, but something must have given him away anyway. Steve was grinning at him knowingly, though he didn’t say anything.

“You’re gonna come when I tell you, right? Not a second earlier than that.”

At this point, Eddie was pretty sure Steve was in complete control of his body. He was simply the puppet on Steve’s strings.

“Answer me, Eddie.” Steve pushed against his prostate, making his body shiver and cock twitch.

“Only when you say,” Eddie gasped out, lifting his hips to pull away from the overstimulation, but immediately falling back down when he missed it. “Wanna be good for you.”

Steve groaned, and his fingers pushed in and out of Eddie faster.

He wanted to be good, but he was only human.

“St-” Eddie moaned. “-eve. Can’t-”

“‘S okay, baby. You can come now.”

And Eddie did.

Just like that.

The relief of finally being able to unclench his thighs, to actually feel the last string tethering him to earth snap as his release painted Steve’s stomach.

His fingers slowed, but didn’t leave him, keeping him stretched as he clenched around them during the waves of pleasure still wringing through him. He felt like he’d never stop feeling this deep pulsing, had to try to open his eyes to see if he was still coming somehow.

Steve was murmuring something against his hair.

When had he even fallen against Steve’s chest, face buried in his neck?

How long had he been just whimpering against him like a dog in heat?

“...So good for me, sweet boy. So proud of you for waiting for permission.”

Oh.

Praise like that wasn’t exactly a new part of their aftercare, but it was rare that Steve said it more than once or twice, usually just holding him in his arms in silence while Eddie came back down from the clouds.

He’d think about that later.

For now, he let his body relax, the noises stop, and his breathing slow.

He could sleep in Steve’s arms, feel the love pouring from his words and fingertips, and plant his feet on the ground in the morning.

Day five: ao3 | tumblr

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington

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aurumacadicus · 18 hours

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65 for the ficlet pls! I’m loving what you’ve written so far!

Steve heard the door open and sighed, leaning forward so he could rub his hands over his face. He sucked in a breath and held it as his palms ran over his swollen black eye, forgetting for a moment that the bruise had stayed. It was a welcome change from the aches and pains he'd forgotten.

"Steve," Tony began as he walked toward him.

"I don't--" Steve cut in, then sighed when Tony circled the couch to face him, hands dropping into his lap. "I came here so I'd be left alone."

"I know!" Tony said, and it sounded as if he was carefully choosing his words. "I know. I just... you left so quickly. Once they said you could leave." He looked down at Steve with calculating eyes.

Probably cataloguing how Steve was lacking now, Steve thought bitterly. He sucked in as deep a breath as he could and let it out slowly. "You know, if you just wanted to gawk, I'm sure JARVIS got tons of video of me struggling with my fucking motorcycle, so--"

"How dare you," Tony snarled before he could finish, and Steve found himself jerking his head back to stare up at him in surprise in response. Tony's cheeks had flushed with anger, his hands had gripped into fists. He'd never seen him this angry before. "I didn't come here to--to fucking gawk, or. I came to see you because I was worried about you, you asshole." His eyes took on a particular gleam that Steve recognized as hurt. As not wanting to show he was hurt. "I thought, hell, maybe you'd want your boyfriend to comfort you while you were--but never fucking mind. Just wallow on your own, see if I care."

"Tony," Steve tried, concerned.

"I can't believe you'd think that's what I came in here to do," Tony continued, jerking his gaze away. "A wizard used magic to reverse the serum in you and you were sickly beforehand so I was coming to make sure that you were okay. I even thought, maybe you'd be happy to see me."

Shame curdled in Steve's gut. It wasn't Tony's fault that this had happened. He'd been nothing but concerned since he'd heard Clint call for medical. "I am happy to see you, Tony," he offered, but he wasn't sure how sincere it sounded when Tony shot him a wounded look.

"Sure," Tony said. He cleared his throat, looking away again. "Well. Far be it from me to bother you when you wanted to be alone. Natasha is leaning on that wizard, Thor has gone to talk to his mother, and Bruce is looking into scientific fixes. I'll be in the lab."

Tony turned to leave, and Steve couldn't stop himself from reaching out, grabbing his wrist. Tony stilled under his touch, but he didn't turn back, keeping his face turned away. Steve swallowed thickly, trying to push back his guilt at the fact that he'd been so mean when Tony had just wanted to help. This was his issue. He'd just thought he'd left it all behind him in the forties.

"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly.

"...I'm... sure this must be... difficult. For you," Tony answered haltingly. "It's fine. I overreacted."

He probably believed that, too, Steve thought, frowning. He lifted his other hand to wrap around Tony's wrist, pulling gently at his arm. "Come here."

Tony hesitated for a long moment, but eventually, after Steve pulled again, he allowed himself to be towed back around. "Steve," he sighed, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry."

"I am too," Steve promised, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. "Will you look at me?"

Tony looked at him from under his lashes, which was just as attractive as it had always been, but somehow more, now that Steve had to look up at him. "Weird seeing bruises on you," he finally murmured.

"Weird still feeling the bruises," Steve admitted. "Kiss it better?"

"Wish I could kiss everything better," Tony muttered, but he was gamely leaning in, and as careful as he was, Steve was still so unused to pain that he flinched a little. "Well, there's nothing wrong with your lips, huh?"

"Nope," Steve answered, tilting his head back so it wasn't such a strain on Tony's neck to lean down further and kiss him.

He felt the change almost immediately, aches and pains fading to dull pulses as his body began to work overtime trying to heal them. He was suddenly and incredibly hungry. He hadn't eaten since he'd left medical several hours ago. Tony also looked smaller, where he was staring up at him in shock, mouth dropped open speechlessly. For one hysterical moment, Steve remembered what Bucky had said after he'd rescued him from Hydra.

"Don't," Steve tried, but Tony began howling with laughter between semi-hysterical sputterings of 'true love? that asshole wizard said true love?' until he slid off of the couch and onto the floor.

#submission #aurumacadicus answers #saving-stark #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony #somehow this was a submission??? idk how tumblr works

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adarkrainbow · 2 days

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I always stood my ground when it comes to the Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking-Glass stories. I am certain and I will defend that they are NOT fairytales, despite a mass-culture effort to consider them as such just because they want to lump together all children fiction as farytale (plus Disney's influence of course).

Thinking about it, I recently realized that I can sum up the situation perfectly by creating a triangle with two others works. The Alice books - Pinocchio - and the Oz books.

The Alice books are not fairytales, "modern" fairytales, fairytale fiction or fairytale fantasy in any way. Pinocchio, on the contrary, is what I will call for this post "fairytale fiction", and as such stands as an oposite of the Alice books. (And Oz stands in the middle between the two, I'll come back to this later). [Note: I want to precise that I am a HUGE fan of both the Oz and Alice books. I love them. So I am not saying that negatively, on the contrary, I want justice for them to be recognized as what they are.]

What makes Pinocchio a "modern fairytale", a "fairytale novel", a "fairytale fiction"? (I do not call it "fairytale fantasy" because I keep this term for fantasy works that are primarily fantasy but rely on fairytales for inspiration or motifs, such as the Narnia books, Tolkien's The Hobbit or movies like Legend or the Last Unicorn) One, the book was intended by its author to be a modern fairytale or a new fairytale. Two, the book reuses fairytale structures and archetypes. As simple as that. The Alice books, on the other hand? They were never intended to be "fairytales" and never refered to as such by their author.

Not only that, but these books lack any type of fairytale structure when it comes to the plot or narrative. In terms of structure, half of these books are to be ranged into the "allegory" genre, the "metaphorical journey" - for example Alice Through the Looking-Glass is actually a chess match, a chess game that has been narrativized and word-built to produce a children book. The other half is simply the genre these books hailed, heralded, symbolized: nonsense. The Alice books are one of the most famous displays of Carroll as the master of "nonsense". Because nonsense is a genre in itself, and the first Alice book for example, the Wonderland one, is a nonsense plot. A dream-like journey through a bizarre otherworld solely guiding by the reversal of human norms (everybody is insane, that's the normal), the twisting of what children are taught at school (Carroll playing around with everything children were given to be "equipped" in life and how it would seem absurd to them when confronted with a child-like pragmatism) and the literal application of the kind of philosophical and metaphysical questions children would be faced with. Alice in Wonderland is a "nonsense philosophical" story - in France we have a genre matching the "fairy tale" (conte de fées) which is the "philosophical tale" (conte philosophique), most famously represented by Voltaire's works. Alice in Wonderland is a nonsense philosophical tale, not a fairytale.

Yes, the world Alice encounters is filled with talking animals, magical royalty, and other monsters... But they are not fairytale archetypes or even "types" at all. And that is where things are interesting. Because too many people forget what the worldbuilding of the Alice books is, what the "rules" for creating the worlds Alice visits are.

Yes there are bizarre creatures - but they are creatures born out of puns. The Alice worlds are words of wordplay - Carroll created half of his characters simply by playing on the several meanings of a same word, or by breaking down in a literal way a common name, or even by applying expressions in a pragmatic way. Remember: the Mad Hatter and the March Hare are simply Carroll deciding to use two common sayings about madness as literal characters.

Yes, there are talking animals - but they're not out of fairytales. They are out of NURSERY RHYMES. And there's a big difference. In fact, while I refuse to call the Alice books "fairytale fiction" I do recognize their nature as "nursery rhyme fiction". The Queen of Hearts, Humpty Dumpty and many more were straight up lifted from nursery rhymes, and the entire books rely on the memorizing, parodies and twisting of the nursery rhyme genre.

Finally yes, there is magical royalty, but they are just caricatures of the real-world. The Alice books are meant to mock and caricature the society they were created into - such as how the Red Queen of Through the Looking-Glass is meant to embody strict rules children had to learn and those harsh nannies obsessed with etiquette and how nonsensical the rigid politeness could be. Quite a handful of the characters Alice meets are simply references to real-life people (starting with the Dodo which is Carroll himself, or even Alice herself who is the fictional version of the girl the story was meant for) - and if people did a bit of research they would find that Carroll wrote quite a bit about the intended personality of the characters (he notably described extensively what kind of "person" the White Rabbit was supposed to be).

So... The Alice books are nonsensical philosophy for children, and a comical caricature of society, and a nursery rhyme fiction. But they are not "fairytale fiction" or "fairytale inspired" in any way. Unlike Pinocchio which does deserve its fairytale status, and is an emblem of what fairytale fiction is.

I promised you some Oz so here's my stand... The Oz books started out as a fairytale fiction comparable to Pinocchio. When Baum wrote his first Oz book, "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz", he explicitely intended it to be a modern American fairytale able to rival with European classics. The novel reinvents several fairytale archetypes (such as the witch, the talking animal, the wizard), and applies a certain fairytale structure to its narrative. When Baum wrote a sequel to this book, when book 2 of Oz came out, "The Marvelous Land of Oz", Baum kept it a fairytale fiction. We still had a fairytale structure, a fairytale motif, and fairytale archetypes. This second novel was much more extravagant and bombastic (because it was actually created as a tie-in with the Oz stage extravaganzas Baum had created, hence the "dramatical" and "theatrical" nature of this second book), but it stayed fairytale fiction. And the same can be said of book 3.

However, by the fourth book (Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz) onward, Baum, who was fed up with Oz and only continued because he needed money+ audience pressure, dropped the "fairytale fiction" and rather turned the Oz series into basically something similar to the Alice books. He didn't do full nonsense like Carroll but he did two things that made these books "American Alices". 1) He dropped fairytale-narratives like (go on the quest to kill the witch, go on the quest to obtain your wish, undergo this journey to free the trapped royals) for an absence of real plot similar to the Alice books. Stories start randomly, characters find themselves in a new place for no real reason, they travel through bizarre lands, encounter excentric characters, return home at the end. And that's it. Baum didn't bother with a plot anymore since he knew what kids wanted was just see more of this world and that was it. 2) Over-reliance on punny worldbuilding. This is one of the greatest feature of the "late" Oz books: to create his world, Baum massively uses (if not excusively) puns and wordplays, from which are born entire lands and people - thus making it very similar to the Alice books where the Wonderland and Looking-Glass lands precisely exist to warp language.

As such, this is why I consider the Oz series to stand perfectly between Pinocchio and Alice - it started out as a fairytale fantasy similar to Pinocchio, and then it drifted to a "nonsensical childhood marvel fantasy" a la Carroll's Alice.

#alice in wonderland #alice through the looking-glass #alice books #lewis carroll #oz books #the wizard of oz #oz series #l. frank baum #frank baum #baum #pinocchio #fairytale fantasy #fantasy fiction #nursery rhyme fiction

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welcome-to-jay · 14 hours

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How many Ace Attorney cases would be solved immediately if they used the Divination Seance?

For those who don’t know, the Divination Seance is a mechanic introduced in the 6th main Ace Attorney game: Spirit of Justice. The way it works is that a spirit medium communes with the soul of the dead, and makes their final memories visible in the Pool of Souls. All of their senses are displayed, from what they saw to what they heard to what they smelled before they died. In game, the Divination Seance is usually used to Phoenix’s disadvantage (obviously), but what I wanted to know is what would happen if the Divination Seance was used in cases that took place not in the Kingdom of Khura’in. If the court could see what the victim saw seconds before their death, how much would that fuck over the real killer? Let’s go through the death of (almost) every single victim and find out: would this case be solved if they used the Divination Seance? This will be updated with each game every day, unless I forget.

(Thanks to my buddy Keepay for helping me out with this! He did all of the AAI 1 and 2 cases because my memory on those is pretty fuzzy.)

Things to Remember:

Divination Seance is derived from the victim’s memories, meaning if they don’t recognize a person’s voice, they won’t be able to identify it.

Divination Seance only works if the victim’s true name (and less importantly, what they look like) is known.

The victim has to actually be dead for a Seance to be possible.

Ace Attorney 1

Cindy Stone - YES

Frank had already broken into Cindy's home when she walked in, so there’s no way she wouldn’t have seen him before he bludgeoned her. A Divination Seance would clearly show this.

Mia Fey - NO

At first, this looks like the exact same situation as the Cindy Stone case. Mia and Redd White were face-to-face before she died, so he would’ve clearly shown up in the Divination Seance, right?

But then there’s that damn updated autopsy report.

Edgeworth stated that Mia lived for a few minutes after she was hit, and Divination Seances only show the last few seconds of the victim’s life. This means that the Divination Seance wouldn’t have shown the actual bludgeoning, or Redd White. As suspect as that updated autopsy report is, Edgeworth himself said that he never forged evidence, so we have to take him at his word here.

Jack Hammer - YES

Dee and Jack were face-to-face when she pushed him. I don’t think we ever learn the details of their struggle, so maybe it would still be unclear whether or not it was self defense on Vasquez’s part.

Robert Hammond - YES

Again again, Yanni and Hammond saw each other before Yanni shot Hammond in the heart. We don’t get a lot of details about what happened in the shack, but we have no reason to assume this wasn’t the case. I promise these are gonna get more interesting.

Gregory Edgeworth - MAYBE

So in this case, the Divination Seance would show that the defendants (Miles Edgeworth and Yanni Yogi in this case) are innocent, but wouldn’t show who the culprit is, so I’m gonna say at the very least, it’s partially solved. The Seance would reveal that Gregory didn’t die when Miles threw the gun, and that all three of them passed out before the second gunshot was fired. However, we know from Von Karma’s testimony that Gregory was unconscious when he was shot, so he wouldn’t have seen his killer’s face.

But! Miles said that he heard Von Karma scream right after he threw the gun, obviously that means that Gregory heard it too. The question is, would he have recognized it as Von Karma’s voice, and would it have shown up as Von Karma’s voice in the Pool of Souls? To answer that, I point you towards Inga’s Divination Seance. Here he recognizes the voice he’s talking to over the phone as one of his subordinates (after a refining from Rayfa) but even after it’s proven that Datz was the one laughing over the phone, the sound still shows up in the pool as just “Laughter.”

This is why it’s important to remember that the Divination Seance is derived from the victim’s memories. Inga recognized his subordinate's voice (but probably not his name, lol) but he didn’t know what Datz’s voice sounds like, at least not well enough to recognize it. In the same vein, Gregory would absolutely recognize Von Karma’s voice because they just spend the whole day in court together, as well as them meeting during the investigation.

Now what this really all boils down to is if Gregory would recognize Von Karma screaming in particular. Miles didn’t recognize the voice even though he also knew Von Karma, but he was also a stressed and delirious kid when he heard the scream. Gregory’s memories are probably more reliable, and he’s probably heard Von Karma shouting either during the Inherited Turnabout investigation or the trial afterward. But, as much as I wanna say this is a yes, we can’t know for sure.

Bruce Goodman - YES

After that long-winded explanation, we’re back to another easy one. Bruce and Damon were alone in the evidence room when Damon did the deed, so he would clearly show up in the vision, or at the very least, his voice would be heard.

Neil Marshall - NO

This is another Gregory situation, but unfortunately much more unclear. Neil was unconscious when he died so he wouldn’t have seen Gant but at least it would be clear that neither Ema or Darke killed him. Neil had already knocked out Darke when Ema pushed him, and it would’ve been clear that Neil didn’t die from Ema’s shove, but much later. Of course, since Neil was blacked out, the argument could be made that Darke woke up first, and simply stabbed Neil while Neil was unconscious. Even with the Divination Seance, there’s no way to prove that Gant did the deed.

#ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #ace attorney spirit of justice #aa6 #cindy stone #mia fey #jack hammer #robert hammond #gregory edgeworth #bruce goodman #neil marshall

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assistant-of-drama · 2 days

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Assistant Noah's World Tour!

Hello, my name is Noah.

And around 2 years ago, I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

I got into a show called Total Drama and now I can't escape this overrated series or its crazy host.

How did this happen to me?

Well, I'm going to tell you...

When I first entered the show, I thought that I was gonna stay at a fancy resort or something like that, while trying to win the 100,00 dollars.

But instead that hotel turned out to be a crappy, ancient campsite. They only have one outhouse and there's a camera inside of it. The food is disgusting and served by a violent psychopath of a Chef. The host is basically insane and probably gonna get crazier. With the cherry on top, being that our first challenge was to jump off of a giant cliff.

Yeah, the money just wasn't worth it.

I decided to trick my team into voting me off.

So, when the dodgeball challenge arrived, I saw it as the perfect opportunity since I hated sports anyway. I simply refused to help and gave my team the occasional rude comment here and there, to irritate them even more. It was almost too easy.

I smiled and chuckled to myself as I left the dodgeball arena, forgetting about the cameras recording my satisfaction.

When I wasn't given a marshmallow, I had to resist the urge to smile, while acting angry and disappointed. I even subtly insulted their intelligence one final time as I left, getting pelted with marshmallows in the process. It was totally worth it.

I couldn't fight the smug smile anymore as I reached the boat, nor the sigh of relief as the boat left the stupid island.

If only I knew that being unable to control my joy would've sealed my fate.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that there was a resort after all; a resort of the losers.

How ironic, but I wasn't gonna complain.

However, a few days later, Chris and Chef learned that I got voted off on purpose. They were furious. They called me back to the island, explaining that as a punishment, I would have to come back to the island as Chris' assistant for the rest of the show. My jaw dropped in disbelief. Apparently, I missed the fine print in my contract; if anyone leaves on purpose, then they're forced to work for Chris.

As I reluctantly went on the boat back to the island, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of anger, disappointment, and a bit of fear. I didn't know what Chris had planned for me, but I knew it couldn't be anything good. When I arrived at the camp, I immediately put on a disguise, so the others wouldn't recognize me.

I was exhausted. Chris had been working me like a dog since my return to the island. He had me doing all sorts of tasks. I'd never been so tired in my life. Every time I thought I'd finally catch a break, he'd find something else for me to do. It was relentless.

But at least I get paid more than the other interns.

Then later to my surprise, Chris began to ask me for new ideas for the challenges. I was confused at first, but then he explained that he was impressed with how I managed to trick my team into wanting me off the island. He saw it as a sign of my true potential. I couldn't believe it. Chris, the insane host, was actually praising me?

I decided to take advantage of the situation and give him my best ideas. To my surprise, he actually liked most of them. Over time, my role in the show became bigger. We would brainstorm ideas for challenges together, and I would help him execute them. It was a weird kind of partnership, but it worked for us.

As the days went by, I learned to accept my new life on the island. Sure, it was still a competition, and there was always the chance that someone might figure out my true identity, but for now, I was content. I even started to enjoy the challenges again, if only because they were more interesting with my unique perspective. The gross eating challenge was one of my favorites.

When the finale arrived, Chris, Chef, and I were thrown into the water by the contestants as a form of revenge. We didn't see it coming; one minute we were announcing the winner, and the next, we were soaked to the bone.

Then my wig came off, revealing myself to the others. They were angry at first, but after I explained everything, they decided to forgive me… except for Heather. We all had a laugh about it and even became friends.

I thought it was over.

But then Chris made everyone chase a case with a million dollars inside of it, while I simply stayed at the resort.

Then Chris revealed that he tricked everyone into doing a second season of Total Drama, I didn't care at first because I thought that I was gonna leave.

The apathy turned into horror, when Chris reveals that I'm still his assistant, according to my signed contract.

Life, why do you hate me so?

In Season 2, everyone became extra nice to me, hoping that their kindness would somehow get them special treatment in the future episodes.

Even Justin began flirting with me, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. I mean, sure, he was gorgeous and all, but I'm immune to Justin's charms. He's just another generic pretty boy that everyone loves drooling over.

I was so relieved when he left.

While the others finally took the hint that I wasn't gonna give them anything and now leave me alone, thank god.

Now that Season 2 is over, Chris is currently preparing a third season which is gonna take place in a unstable plane traveling across the world and singing random musical numbers.

Chef was right, that is the worst idea ever.

At least I'm not expected to sing.

The making of Season 3 is how I met Alejandro. The perfect combo of beauty, brawn and brains. Basically Justin, but with upgrades. The man who could charm the pants off of most species. At least that's what Chris says. Because personally, I think that guy is as overrated as the show I'm forced to work on.

That doesn't stop the Prince Charming Wannabe from flirting with me. In fact, it only seems to encourage him. He's constantly circling around me, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. It's amusing, in a pathetic sort of way. I mean, really, how can someone be so convinced that they can win someone over with a few well-placed compliments and a big, fake smile? It's almost insulting.

Then there's Sierra. She's… interesting, to say the least. There's something about her that suggests she's not quite right in the head. When she was an interviewer, she followed the cast around like a lost puppy, constantly scribbling in her notebook and asking questions that no one seems to understand. She's also obsessed with Cody.

Her obsession with Total Drama is borderline creepy. She knows every contestant and knows personal things about us too. Even Chris himself. It's unnerving, actually. She even seems to know some things about me that I'm pretty sure I haven't told anyone.

They are the two weirdest people that I've ever met… and I'm about to be trapped on a plane with them. Great. Just great.

I'm not sure whether to feel sorry for myself or laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I mean, here I am, stuck as Chris Mcclean's assistant, while everyone else gets to compete for a chance at a million dollars. And now, we're all going to be singing and dancing our way around the world. It's enough to make anyone's head spin.

Pray for me.

(Inspired by total-drama-brainrot's anonymous questions!)

#assistant noah's world tour #assistant noah #total drama #total drama island #total drama action #total drama world tour #td noah #alejandro burromuerto #alenoah #td sierra #td heather #td justin #chris mclean

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its-avalon-08 · 17 hours

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hearts intertwined (hamilton x sister! driver!rosberg) p9

chapter 9: don't let your guard down

warnings - none at all

series masterlist

As the warmth of the coffee spread through them, so did the conversation. They delved back into their childhood, sharing forgotten memories with easy laughter. Lewis spoke of his surprise and (secretly) delight when Y/N began showing up at his and Nico's racing practice sessions, her bright personality a welcome change to their competitive intensity.

Y/N, in turn, confessed her childhood crush on him, a secret she'd harbored for years. "I used to sneak peeks at you during races," she admitted with a blush, "just waiting around with cold bottles of water and hoping you'd notice me cheering you on from the stands."

Lewis chuckled, a genuine smile warming his features. "Believe me, I noticed." He felt a warm feeling bloom in his chest

The conversation grew more serious as they touched upon the rift between Lewis and Nico. Y/N listened intently as Lewis spoke of the crushing pressure to win, the constant need to prove himself. "It's frightening. I turned into a totally different person and I wasn't able to recognize myself after everything with-with.. Nico," Lewis's voice broke towards the end truly giving away how hurt he was. He admitted his fear of commitment, not just on the track but in his personal life.

"Dating is… complicated," Lewis confessed, running a hand through his hair. "There's never enough time, and the fear of failing… it spills over into everything. I am not able to enjoy the simple things like movie nights because I'm always checking my phone to see if Toto sent me something. I forget anniversaries because I'm occupied with all the other overwhelming things."

Y/N nodded in understanding. "I totally get it," she said softly. "I had a serious relationship a few years ago with this guy called Aaron. We were together for a year but it crashed and burned because of his.. inability to stay away from his ex's bed. We just weren't right for each other. I wanted my career and he wanted someone who stayed at home and didn't travel as much. I just could never be that person for him."

A shadow crossed Lewis's face. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," Y/N forced a smile. "I learned a lot from it, mostly that I deserve someone who can be honest and true."

Suddenly, a playful glint returned to her eyes. "Speaking of which, I'm actually seeing someone casually right now. It keeps the pressure off from being permanently held to someone and just allows me to have a fun time. Just to keep things interesting, you know?"

Lewis's smile faltered, a flicker of something akin to jealousy crossing his features. He quickly masked it, but Y/N caught the shift in his demeanor.

"Oh," he said, his voice a touch colder. "That's… nice. yeah, that's good."

The conversation stalled, a heavy silence settling between them. Y/N's phone buzzed insistently in her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was her brother calling. Her face paled considering she had just spent over an hour talking to Nico's rival.

"Well," she said, standing up. "This has been… nice. Unexpected, but nice. I should probably get going."

Lewis rose as well, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within him. "Yeah, of course. See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," she echoed, feeling the awkwardness return. "Bye, Lew- Lewis." She corrected herself from muttering his nickname. Lewis noticed and he felt his heart freeze.

With a mumbled goodbye, Y/N exited the apartment, leaving Lewis alone with the lingering scent of her vanilla perfume and a tangled web of emotions. He watched her disappear down the hallway, a strange ache settling in his chest. He hadn't expected her to be seeing someone, and the realization stung more than he cared to admit.

Lewis sank back into the chair, the worn leather a stark reminder of a simpler time. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to rebuild the bridges that had been burned. But first, he had to confront his own fears, both on and off the track. As the afternoon sun streamed through the window, Lewis knew his journey to redemption had just begun.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life

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#sir lewis hamilton #lewis x reader #lewis hamilton #mercedes #y/n #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #red bull racing #max verstappen imagine #carlos sainz imagine #romance #ava speaks

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devouredbyflame · 2 days

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Deepening Relationships with the Divine

I see a lot of posts on Tumblr about how to go about having casual relationships, or showing your devotion subtly but never have I seen ways in which those who wish to move on from that realm of being would actually start having a dedicated practice. People don’t need to be subtle to worship the Gods - in fact, most practices aren’t blatant and don’t need to be blatant. It is understandable and often necessary to be in a closet but you can still have a very deep relationship with the Gods while it still being meaningful.

Here’s a list of things you can do to strengthen your devotion with the Gods as well as build and deepen your relationship.

Build a shrine dedicated to an individual Deity and take time to know Them by using it.

The idea that you need to have multiple Deities all the time and worship all of Them together is a very strange way of doing polytheism and it is a more powerful usage of space to have one singular Deity at a time rather than a mix together. People may feel less of a need to be so bent out of shape if they can’t afford offerings for an entire pantheon of Gods if they only have one household Deity and the rest are specific to other tasks or needs. I’m not saying you need to pick one above the rest, but I am saying that when you work with the Gods, it’s not about quantity of your relationships, it’s about quality and how long you actually spend together in a similar fashion.

Design your shrine to be simple.

You don’t need a bunch of things on your shrine and in fact, that won’t make it any more detectable to the Gods or show how dedicated you are as a polytheist. It is not about how much work you put into the shrine to make it more about the Gods you worship but it’s more along the line of what needs to happen when you go to the shrine, what actions you take while you’re there.

Hypothetically, all you need is a candle to light to show that you wish for a Deity’s presence, but to make it more usable and detectable to a Deity, it is recommended you also have an image, statue, or likeness of the Deity. You can also have a bowl or a glass to fill for your offerings. Do not make huge offerings if you are going to forget to empty them out. Only make the offerings that won’t rot should that be the case, and only do that if you know you’re going to throw it out, eat it, or dispose of it shortly after.

Make a plan to go to your shrine at least once a day if not several times a week.

The more time you spend at the shrine, the easier it will be for the Deity to realize your intent of showing interest. It isn’t because you’re more devoted, are special, or show any signs that you’re worth looking into, but rather, the concept is mostly around how much energy is built up gradually over time. Energy is only built up because of the amount of time you spend there and how much meaning is there. It is not some moral issue you should feel guilty about should it not happen.

The fact is, the Gods aren’t waiting around and checking off boxes above your head so when you fail They mark it against you for the rest of your time with Them. They are, however, flawed in the way that They only can go about recognizing the material world based off of the flow of energy and how much is stored that is unique to Them.

Having a journal at your shrine to write to Them in while a candle is lit is a perfect way of building a relationship. The act of writing is a perfect way to build energy.

Keeping a specific divination tool at the shrine for that single Deity to use and to build Their energy around is also extremely important. It has to be unique to Them while also being used and stored at the site where you are making the most attempts at being at your shrine.

It is important to keep the shrine contained in a way that makes sure that other energies cannot get in. So even if you are closeted or must keep it on the low, go to the craft store and get a photo storage box. You only need a few items in there to make it meaningful. Over time, the use of those items will become more and more sacred. You can take them in and out of the box - it doesn’t matter how it’s stored but as long as it is contained and out of reach of animals and other things that can be hazardous to them and also maintain the cleanliness of the shrine. If not a box, a closet, cabinet, or bookshelf that is high up are all good places to keep it.

If you’re going to keep the shrine out in an open space, make sure the environment around the area is kept free from dust, dirt, animal hair, organized and vacuumed around it. Dirt that is built up makes it harder for the Gods to reach you energetically - cleaning the room it is in is going to be required if you have it outside of a container. If you’re low on spoons or live in a place that is impossible, a box is perfect. As long as the items are kept tidy energetically, no harm would be done if you’re not super hellbent on keeping a very energetically and physically pristine home.

Most people don’t have the space to have a dedicated area that is solely meant to remain clean for the Gods it is dedicated to. If that’s you, don’t worry about having it out at all.

I realize I’ve spoken a lot about using a shrine in this post and that is really a very important thing when trying to build a better relationship with a Deity. It isn’t about who you are or what you’re doing, it’s about recognizing the importance of what the Deity needs to get to where you are first before going about creating a relationship. That’s all that matters for those starting out on the path looking for ways of transmuting their effort into a meaningful way instead of basing it off of appearances and looks.

Gods don’t have eyes and do not see the way humans can. It is necessary that you build up energy as that is what They are and how humans and Deities can interact. Your devotional actions will likely be unseen unless you do them based on the idea that it is repeated, somewhere dedicated to that Deity, or building up a framework of a practice to continue daily.

Not because it’s a moral issue, not because you should feel obligated, but because the Divine are not omnipotent beings who know everything going on and can see everything. Otherwise, you’re not going to get very far in your devotional activities or rituals.

The usage of a dedicated space over time will make communicating with the Gods easier. Consider a shrine like a window in this world for the Gods to look into. The more you use it, the easier it will be for Them to have access to you and the easier it will be for you to hear Them. Yes, discernment is important and having a sensitivity is a great start, but it’s not the only thing that matters in communicating with your Gods.

If you are having issues listening for and hearing the Gods, the problem likely is not just you, it’s that They cannot reach you. The Gods are the most obvious beings on this realm. They are enormous. They take up a lot of space and energy. Those who have experienced Them know that it is not subtle and the more you make it easier for Them to access you, the easier it will be to have Their energy available in order for Them to talk back in a meaningful way and use what’s available in your life to communicate.

Their presence is about as subtle as an elephant sitting in your bedroom. It really isn’t that hard to detect Them once you get the hang of having Them in your specific area in this way. You’ll also know you’re not hallucinating because there is no other experience quite like it. You really won’t know what hit you.

That’s all for now. For more tips on building a shrine or finding more material on this topic, check out my blog.

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gabby294 · 3 days

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You Look So Pretty, Pretty Like The Sun - Chapter 1

No matter what Buck did, he could not get Tommy out of his mind. The countless times he picked up his phone to text the guy, to apologize profusely, and to beg for another chance were driving him insane. He was never good at explaining his feelings when it mattered; the words would make sense in his head, but the moment it came to speaking them out loud, they would come out jumbled, and he, more often than not, would mess it up. If there was one thing that he was great at, it was messing things up. Hell, this week alone seemed to be just one screw-up after another.

The jealousy, the near-strangulation by an alien hand, maiming his best friend, and now royally screwing up the one date he really wanted to go well. Worst of all, the date was actually going better than he had expected for the most part. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so nervous about a date; it felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. If he were honest, Buck wasn’t sure how he even managed to function as a human being; certain things just blurred in his mind. At times, he remembered his mind zeroing in on not letting his trembling hand spill the beer as he raised it, on making sure he wasn’t eating too slowly or too quickly, or worse, choking on a date again. But above all, he remembered Tommy sitting across from him, looking at him, giving his full attention only to him. It left Buck a stuttering and blushing mess, yet Tommy never pointed it out or made him feel self-conscious. If anything, he didn’t bat an eye at Buck stumbling over his words; he just laughed lightly at Buck’s stories and shared his own in turn. Tommy would smile that dashing smile and make Buck forget how to breathe. It was easy to forget they were technically on a date, that it was his first time being out with a guy that wasn’t strictly platonic.

That was until the bill came and reality hit him like another lightning bolt. Suddenly, it all became too real; he was on a date with another man and he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was staring at him, accusing him of being a fraud, of pretending to be someone else. It was as if everyone could see straight through him and recognize every mistake he'd ever made. He feared that Tommy would take one more look at him and see it all too. Suddenly, all the desperate need to be seen by Tommy disappeared, replaced by dread. Buck shrunk back into himself so far he might as well have left his body, only to watch himself dig such a deep hole and bury his chance at something with the first guy he ever liked.

Which led him to his current predicament. Days later, he still couldn't stop thinking about the man. Buck thought about what he would say, made a whole script of countless ‘ hey’ and ‘I’m sorry’ messages in his head. Had lifted his phone to write them, but every single time he opened the messaging app, the words died at his fingertips. Their previous conversation history would pop up, and there wouldn’t be good enough words to start the message. It only caused Buck to sigh and run his hand through his hair in frustration, feeling a light pang in his chest. They hadn’t exchanged that many texts, as both had hectic schedules but they would get few words in here and there in between calls, mostly about possible places to go. Yet the messages represented the time where they were good.

It took both coming out to Maddie and Eddie for him to pick up the phone again and actually press the button. He waited with bated breath as the phone dialed, his heart pounding inside his chest.

“Hello?” Tommy finally answered, causing Buck’s breath to hitch.

“Hey Tommy,” he managed to choke out. Clearing his throat, he quickly added, “It’s Buck. How… how are you?”

Before Tommy could answer, he heard voices in the background and hastily added, “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, I can spare a few minutes,” came Tommy’s reply. God, Buck really wished he could see the man. Hearing his voice did things to him, but it didn’t compare to seeing him in person.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“No, I’m great. Listen, I, uh… I really want to talk to you,” Buck managed to get out. “Not that we are not talking now, 'cause obviously we are, but…”

But Tommy deserved better than just a phone call. He came to Buck’s place the last time he wanted to talk, which led to the man kissing him and inviting him on a date. The memory of the unexpected but very welcomed kiss caused his brain to haywire, and he realized that silence fell over them as Tommy waited for him to continue.

“Could… Could we meet up?”

It took Tommy a moment to respond, as if he was considering how to reply. Buck’s nerves picked up again. He really wouldn’t blame Tommy if he said no, not after how he behaved the last time. But before he could drown in doubts, Tommy pulled him back with a simple:

“Sure, Evan. When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?” Buck winced, hearing the eagerness in his own voice, but nonetheless his chest swelled with happiness and a wide grin broke on his face. He could barely contain the urge to fist bump the air. “I can send you the details or if—“

“Great, I will see you then,” The screeching ring of the bell interrupted them. “Unfortunately, I do have to run now.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks, Tommy. Have a good shift.”

“No need to thank me, Evan.”

With that, Buck was left feeling giddy, standing by the counter in his kitchen with a huge smile, as if he were a lovesick teenager once again.

———

The early sun basked on his shoulders as Buck navigated to a free table outside, two cups of coffee in his hands. He had no idea how Tommy liked his coffee, so he got one with cream and sugar. Buck felt more relaxed this time around, more sure of himself, but that didn’t stop him from subconsciously wiping his hands on his jeans. Luckily, before his mind could overthink it, he spotted Tommy turning a corner and walking up to the table with hands tucked in his navy zip-through hoodie. Buck couldn’t help but eye him up. Not only was Tommy gorgeous, but the way he effortlessly held himself with such ease was captivating

“Hey.” Buck greeted him, breathlessly, his heart racing as he straightened up . Tommy smiled, still with his hands in his pockets, his eyes warm and inviting as he stopped in front of the table.

“Hey,” he replied lightly.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” Buck said, his gaze flickering between Tommy’s eyes and the table.

“Of course,” his gaze briefly dropping to the table before meeting Buck's eyes again, a hint of curiosity in his expression. Buck motioned for him to sit down, his hand gesturing towards the empty chair opposite him.

“I, uh, got you a coffee,” Buck said, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips as Tommy thanked him and finally sat down.

“I- I didn’t know how you take it, so I, uh, took a guess.” He was quick to add to fill the silence. He swayed a bit in his chair, the nerves making him feel jittery. Tommy took a sip and put it down almost immediately, a playful glint in his eyes as he teased, “Mmm, so not like that.”

Buck chuckled, his own tension easing slightly in response.

“Seems like there are a lot of things we don’t know about each other.”

“Practically everything.” Tommy quipped, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Well I would like to change that,” Buck declared, his voice steady and certain. “First, I need to apologise. For the way I behaved the other night.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise.” Tommy was quick to reassure.

“No, I do.” Buck met Tommy’s gaze.

“No I didn’t cut things short because you behaved badly. I did it because I didn’t want to pressure you.” Tommy explained.

“Still the way I reacted was not my proudest moment.” Buck admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

“Noted.”

“So uh.. You said before that you don’t think I’m ready.” Buck swallowed. “And the truth is, I don’t know what I’m ready for. But I am ready for something. And I think that something could be with you.”

There he said it, passing the ball to Tommy. A small hope blossoming inside.

“You already know that I’m interested.”A small smile broke out on Tommy’s face

“Come with me to my sister’s wedding.”

Tommy chuckled in surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“What?”he asked incredulously, his tone filled with surprise and amusement.

“I want you to be my date at my sister’s date.” Buck clarified with a wide grin. He really wanted Tommy to join him. To be able to not only share such important moment with him but also to show him off to the people that were most import in Buck’s life. To have Tommy by his side through the celebrations and the dancing.

“Evan.” Tommy replied, still in disbelief, and Buck relished in the moment of having the rug pulled from under his feet for the first time.

“Come on, I’m serious,” Buck continued, happy yet briefly wondering if he broke the man from how shocked he looked. “You know half the people there and she wants to meet you.”

Tommy leaned on his arms across the table, making Buck distinctly aware of the space between them. Ever since they met, they seemed to gravitate towards each other, and Buck wanted to close that space now.

“Are you absolutely sure about this.” Tommy asked again, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Yes I’m sure. There’s going to be free food, and I need someone to dance with.” Buck replied confidently, his eyes meeting Tommy's with determination.

“Okay.” Tommy said, nodding slowly as he processed Buck's words.

“Yeah?” Buck asked eagerly, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed, a small smile playing on his lips.

“’Kay great.” Without thinking, Buck reached across the table and gently placed his hand on top of Tommy's, feeling a rush of warmth and butterflies in his stomach as Tommy's other hand immediately covered is.

A comfortable silence enveloped them, allowing Buck to relish the sensation of holding hands.

“So,” Tommy finally spoke lightly, his fingertip lightly brushing against his knuckles. “You told your sister about me?”

“Well more about me yet again managing to mess up a date but yeah, you came up.” Buck chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“Dare I ask what she thinks?” Tommy asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“She’s happy for me. And probably pleased that I survived the date without an emergency tracheotomy again.”

“Come again?” Tommy raised an eyebrow in surprise, sounding half concerned.

“It’s uh a long and embarrassing story.” Buck chuckled, scratching the back of his head. His cheeks flushed deeper.

“I don’t know about you but I have time,” Tommy smiled, giving Buck's hand a reassuring squeeze “And I would love to get to know you.”

“Yeah, I do have time.” Buck replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The unspoken ‘for you’ lingered at the tip of his tongue.

——-

They lingered at their table for longer than it was probably appropriate. Their conversations about work and light personal stories made time fly. In what felt like mere moments, even though the coffee had long gone cold, Tommy checked the time on his phone and sighed.

“I've got a shift starting soon.”

Buck offered to walk him back to his car, reluctantly pulling his hand away from where it had been grazing Tommy’s on the table. As they strolled to the car, time seemed to pass too quickly, even though they didn’t rush. Buck enjoyed the closeness, and though they weren’t holding hands, as they walked, their fingertips lightly brushing against each other.

“So I still don’t know your coffee order.” Buck mentioned as they stood beside Tommy’s car, not wanting their time together to end just yet. They would have to part ways soon enough, but neither of them seemed eager to do so.

“I guess we will have to keep going out on coffee dates until you figure it out.”Tommy smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“I would like that.” Buck replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Me too.” Tommy smiled warmly and Buck couldn't help but glance down, not so discreetly, at his lips. He subconsciously lifted his hand and touched his own lips, their last kiss, fresh in his mind. He watched as Tommy’s gaze moved to his lips as well, catching the action. Buck wanted to kiss him again. Or be kissed by him. Whichever came sooner.

“I should get going,” Tommy finally mentioned, his eyes flicking back to Buck’s. With knees that felt like they were about to give out, and feeling a burst of courage, Buck closed the space between them, letting his lips brush against Tommy’s. He wasn’t as smooth about it as Tommy was, almost clashing their teeth together in his eagerness . But none of it mattered. Any coherent thought vanished as Tommy wrapped his arm around Buck's waist, pulling him closer as he returned the kiss. It was as chaste of a kiss as it was in his apartment, but it made Buck melt into the embrace. His hand instinctively reached for Tommy’s bicep, feeling the firm muscle beneath the hoodie. He could taste the coffee Tommy drank on his lips, the smell of his cologne hitting Buck’s senses and sending a pleasant shiver down his back. A smile broke out on Tommy’s face as he parted his lips and leaned into the kiss more.

Momentarily, Buck forgot they were in the parking lot, so consumed by the feeling of Tommy. He almost whined as the man finally pulled away, instinctively trying to reach for Tommy’s lips again.

Reopening his eyes, Buck watched as a grin spread across Tommy’s face, his eyes smoldering with intensity.

“You are something else, Evan,” Tommy murmured, his tone filled with adoration.

The tips of Buck's ears burned, and he ducked shyly at the compliment.

“Have a good shift,” Buck smiled coyly. “And call me.”

With a chuckle and a promise of a call later, they separated. Buck slowly made his way to his jeep, a stupid grin plastered on his face and excitement cursing through his veins

———-

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55256683/chapters/140163892

#911 abc #911 show #911 spoilers #evan buckley #buck x tommy #bucktommy #bi buck #tommy kinard #ao3 #fanfiction #kinkley #tuck

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reddative · 3 days

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I’ve been told I would be really good at writing simp fics by a friend of mine so… AAAUGH have my first Konig x Reader. None of this be realistic but let a man dream. I’m delusional.

Also requests are open just not for NSFW/Smut. (Angst and Fluff tho >;D )

Part 1

König x FTM Reader

Enemies To Lovers Trope (cus yes.)

[fluff, stoner!König x stoner!reader, 16+]

You’ve worked with Task Force 141 for about a year now, having a few more years of experience before now. You spent 5 years in the US Military mastering different skills. You’re a sniper, but you have the skills to be a medic from prior experience outside of the military, and you can take front lines just as well as you can hide at high advantage points on your stomach looking through your optic for hours on end. You kept your identity a secret. As far as anyone needed to know, you’re a man and that’s that. Your feminine figure is hidden by your gear luckily, and you’ve had top surgery a few years prior to the present so there wasn’t the worry of forgetting your binder in the mornings. You were recommended into Task Force 141 when they heard word of a sniper by the code name “Void” due to your skill of hiding in small spots and shadows. This is what came to your downfall however on a mission, as one man in particular saw you. His icy blue eyes seeing something in the corner of his preview vision.

You panic as you scan the area for your next place to move. You attempted to go when he looked away…before he grabbed you by the back of your vest, throwing you to the ground, pinning your arms behind your back as his knee pressed into your back to keep you down. He’d knew you were there, but you were tiny and in a tiny place. He looked away to let you think you had a chance. “Fuck!” You spout as you hit the ground. He didn’t expect you to be that light so that was probably a bit more force than intended, but he didn’t speak on the matter. “Who are you. Speak.” Shit this wasn’t how this was supposed to go! It was supposed to be a simple in and out mission nothing more. So much for that. You didn’t respond. There was still a chance you could get out of this situation. You didn’t struggle underneath him before he lost his guard, readjusting his hand that held your wrists together. That was enough. You snapped your arms from his grasp before rolling the opposite way, sliding yourself from underneath his knee before booking it. There was NO damn way you were getting captured today. Bro was tall though, you were slightly scared he’d catch up, but you were gone so fast he barely even had a chance to process anything, only letting out a frustrated sigh when he looked up and you were gone.

The next time you saw him you were off duty. You bumped into him on your way home from your favorite dispensary in town since you’re on a long enough break to get it out of your system before you’re back to it. “Oh, sorry-“ you spoke as you look up at the man, freezing when you met his eyes. He didn’t have his hood on, perhaps off duty himself. You both just stared at each other, an iced coffee in your hand. You could recognize him from his eyes and physique. “You..?” You ask, almost unsure of himself. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Hello again, maus.” Yep. You slightly wished you were wrong as this was overly awkward on your part. You couldn’t tell with his stern expression as you nervously sipped the pumpkin spice Frappuccino in your hand. There was a silent decision to walk and talk, though there wasn’t much talking. “So..” The taller man finally spoke. “König… you?” Right. There was never any sort of introduction. “Y/n.” You answered simply before continuing “I didn’t expect to run into you again. But I’d like to keep what happened inside of work.” The taller man slightly nodded in agreement at your statement. “You were a lot lighter than I was expecting…” he points out. You just nod “I’m a sniper. There’s a reason for that factor. But I also double as a spy and a few other things. You’re probably used to handling bigger guys.”

You didn’t think much of it anyways. You were more so winded than hurt by the force of impact so it is what it is. König then fixed his eyes into the bag in your hand. “A smoker?” He asked with pure curiosity in which you just nodded to. “Then I get to sneak around for 90 days until it’s out of my system.” You replied in a joking manner, snapping open the sealed bag and pulling out a pre rolled joint. “You care?” You quickly ask, lighting it when he gave you a quick shake of his head. You didn’t care anyways, but you didn’t smoke around people who didn’t like it or the smell for the sake of being respectful. “You’re lucky you’re not a private. The higher the rank the less likely they will drug test you. Though you’re still ballsy.” You just chuckled. If you could you would respond with ‘if only I had balls.’ But you’re not gonna joke about your ghost nuts today. When you got to your place you invited him inside. Might as well, not like you had a lot of company to begin with. Plus you didn’t want to be rude. Next thing you knew you were smoking with him. Not that you minded, but at first glance, he didn’t seem like that type of guy. You had music playing on your tv, the tv you left on while you were out. It was turned down, but you liked background music.

The two of you have been passing a blunt and a bong around for the past hour, talking about random things. Some about work, some about life, or just common interests. But of course in situations like this you run out of things to talk about. After a bit of silence and light music in the background König spoke up, looking at the flags on your roof, one in particular being transgender. “Are you trans?” He asked nonchalantly when he looked up. You hummed before responding. “I am. Since I was a young teen.” You didn’t want to get much into it but he didn’t ask anything further. You both just sat there high as hell, sitting on your couch. You looked up at him, your eyes red and heavy from your buzz. Something about him made you smile. His voice was cute was adorable, especially with the rasp caused by his high. It didn’t at all match his stature, but it sure as hell matched what you’ve seen of his personality. He was nicely built, his black shirt outlining everything perfectly which made you blush slightly. His eyes snapped down to look at you, making you look away in embarrassment. “What are you looking at, Maus?” He raised an eyebrow as he asked. The grin on his face spoke dozens. “Nothing.” He just chuckled. You’re a terrible liar. “You sure? You were eyeing me pretty hard there for a second.” He pointed out. You playfully nudged his arm with a small chuckle.

Eventually you lean your back against his arm, sitting criss cross on the couch while he sat, man spreading as he watched whatever you were giggling at on the tv. Mostly children falling off things or being tripped or even slipping on accident. At this point you were rolling a blunt, pushing the leaf under the other end before applying enough pressure to keep it in the tight roll before you roll your thumbs forward, licking the end to make it stick, doing this until you get to the end of the blunt. You use a lighter to dry the wrap out and stick better before feeling the blunt for any tight or loose errors you can fix but just putting a bit of pressure and getting the tight bud to loosen. After, you lit it, taking a long hit and holding it in your lungs for a moment before exhaling. You took a few more hits before passing it to König who took it between his index and middle finger and raised it to his mouth. You coughed a bit from your hits, bringing your fist up to your mouth as you did, the cough making you tear up. But the feeling in your chest and throat was amazing, along with the fresh high in your head and limbs. As he exhaled his hit he looked down at you, his icey blue eyes scanning you before grabbing your chin with his calloused fingers, gently making you look at him making a bright blush appear on your cheeks. He smirked before taking a long drag of the blunt and bringing his lips to yours before exhaling the hit as you instinctively inhaled the intoxicating substance from his lips.

That lead to you sitting on his lap moments later, his hands on your waist as you now had the blunt. Though it went out on its own after a while of you two making out, your arms around his neck as the two of you shared lazy, wet kisses. His hands sliding under your shirt to rest his hands on your lower back. His hands were big and warm, his hands having the ability to wrap around your waist and meet his fingers in the middle with ease. You two eventually pull away for a breath, König letting out a soft chuckle as he wiped shared saliva from your lip. You couldn’t help but think ‘Wow Y/n. Making out with your enemy. Smooth.’ Despite the deep blush on your face. But FUCK he was so fine. You could get past him practically throwing you to the ground during your first meeting.

You two decided that he should stay the night, he was now hovering over you from behind as you cooked a simple meal. Looking up was enough to meet his gaze since he’s a damn giant. “Looks good.” He spoke as he leaned down, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands resting on your hips. You smiled and chuckled at him softly. “Don’t worry, I always make to much.” He smiled at your words with a small nod. Once you finished you plated the meal before handing König his. You two ended up eating on the couch and watching a movie, smoking another blunt and a bowl after the both of you finished eating. He pulled you onto his chest as he took a hit before handing it back to you. You took it with a small smile, your head now contently resting against his chest as you bring the rolled herb to your lips.

- end of part 1 -

Hope y’all enjoyed the read. I spent so long on this for no reason so yeah I’m ending it here. See ya.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig fluff #transmasc #trans reader #trans ftm #transgender

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quirkle2 · 23 days

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the angst in your zombie au bREAKS MY HEART INTO PIECES (I LOVE IT VERY MUCH)

okay, okay, so!! if the kagebros got separated from reigen and teru when mob is still fine, i imagine that their reunion would be hEARTWRENCHING also, i'm a bit curious, would mob still be able to recognize teru and reigen? or would he thought about them as strangers?

(tbh, following your lore, i imagine mob would act a similarly like nezuko from demon slayer? but instead of little hums, his zombie sounds would more like babbling and incoherent mumbles :"D)

the reunion is fuckin AWFUL man it's SO gut-wrenching. both reigen and teru feared this for Months while looking for the brothers; pretty much the worst case scenario was that mob or ritsu or Both turned—a lot of humans prefer death over being a zombie any day, so the idea of ritsu or mob having to go through that and wander around aimlessly until starvation or smth else gets them,,,

it hurts them so much to think about. teru forces himself not to dwell on it and he's pretty good at that but reigen thinks abt it a lot and he's honestly not sure what scenario is worse. best case is that they're both alive and unturned, obviously, but what's the worst case? you'd think it's both of them getting killed, or turning, but reigen also knows that if One of them got killed/turned, the other would probably lose their mind, especially if they had to watch. the fact that they're kids makes this all three times worse and reigen has to act like he's Not worrying himself sick over the brothers while he tries to keep teru in high spirits

the reunion itself is rly fuckin gut-wrenching for them. they see mob from afar, wandered off just a bit from ritsu and tome who are just around the bend looting a place, and they book it bc ofc they do, it's mob!! but then they see how pale he is, and when he turns around they don't see that light in his eyes that's usually there and the red is dulled and dead looking,, teru almost moves in for a hug before he realizes mob looks vastly different when he Rly takes him in, and mob doesn't rly react too much besides staring at them blankly. the obvious answer is almost too horrifying to even consider, so it takes them a minute to rly,,realize what's going on

tome comes around the bend and shouts, cuz when humans and zombies mix it's usually guns pointed at zombie heads. ritsu comes running out after her and when he sees reigen and teru his thoughts go, in order: holy shit is that reigen and tero ohmygod oh my god they're alive they're alive ohmy god i could fucking cry, and ohmy god they see shige ohno oh no oh no

ritsu sounds like a lunatic when he pulls mob away from them on instinct and says that he's safe to be around and that he's "still him" and he's "not gone" and he's very aware of that. he's very, intimately aware that he sounds fuckin crazy, bc ofc he does, this is what all the crazy people in zombie movies sound like. but he doesn't care, he doesn't care if reigen or teru dismiss him as nuts—he has to make them understand that his brother is still in there somewhere

and yeah, they both kinda think that ritsu's lost his marbles a little bit, but while teru is focused on that and the fact that mob doesn't look like he's rly tuned into Anything that's happening rn, reigen is a bit more focused on the fact that both ritsu and mob look awful? they're both very skinny and very dirty, obviously barely scraping by. they're cut up and ritsu's jacket is basically blood and dirt with a little bit of green fabric mixed in. and just by the look in ritsu's eyes, reigen can tell, man ... reigen can tell ritsu is like.not okay at this point he's kinda lost it.

i think the most painful thing about this whole reunion in general is that later that night, when reigen and teru r finally like ok we get it he's,, he's still mob. we believe you (they want to believe him... [they Do believe him, later, wholeheartedly]) and they settle down someplace safe, teru asks how long mob's been like this. and ritsu has to answer "since we got separated" and they both have that to stew over while everybody else sleeps

they realize that ritsu likely watched mob turn, watched the entire process, and that process takes a long time. it's at least a week of deteriorating motor functions and cognitive skill, and the fact that ritsu stayed for that to keep mob company is .ough. and it doesn't end there bc ritsu obviously stayed after that too

given how these things usually go, ritsu probably did think about killing mob. it probably did cross his mind, bc that's basically what everybody's been told to do. kill them before they have a chance to do any more damage. and it's obvious that ritsu did not have it in him

ritsu not only did not have it in him to kill him, he didn't even have it in him to leave him there. the kid fucking took him with him. a zombie. and he's somehow made it work, for months. and the next few days are filled with watching him still treat mob like a brother and take care of him and gently steer him away from a bird he tries to follow down the wrong street.ritsu is as gentle and kind as he's ever been with his brother. and even tho they're both hungry and tired and barely making it, ritsu is doing a rly good job taking care of mob with what he's been given

the kid obviously wholeheartedly believes in a cure and that mob is still There. he's gone through the trouble to take care of him, and the grief of continuously seeing a loved one that many would consider effectively dead, to get him that cure. to get him his brother back. and mob doesn't seem to be in any pain or distress, so reigen and teru think that this path ritsu has followed is probably infinitely kinder than the mercy kill method they've been taught to do

i think they have a new respect for ritsu, after that reunion

#qktalks #anon #zombie au #and also yes!! mob Would indeed recognize them and not attack them #i've never seen demon slayer but im assuming ur talking abt the main character's ??little sister?? smth like that #but yes i adore the idea of mob saying rly weird incoherent sentences that Almost sound like real words but like slightly to the left #bein a zombie rewires ur brain completely man .his mind is struggling a lot to say what it wants to say #it takes mob a moment to rly catch onto who's in front of him during the reunion but when he does realize there Is recognition in his eyes #fun fact; if u hug zombie mob muscle memory kicks in and he hugs back!#reigen and teru don't find this out until a few days later. they're a bit.. scared of him snapping at them for a while #but once they see that mob never once snaps at ritsu Or tome they're a little more willing to get near him and touch him #teru finally hugs mob and mob hugs back and it makes teru cry VGEAYEAV #(ritsu has hugged zombie mob enough to where now mob leans into his hugs.just giving u smth to sob over)#still related to the reunion but focusing more on ritsu:#after they reunite reigen notices that ritsu has a lot more..authority in his tone. he's a lot more comfortable taking charge #but he also notices that ritsu looks Exhausted and for a while he has trouble relinquishing the lead role to reigen aka the only adult #and it's entirely bc ritsu is just so used to doing things on his own now that he Forgets he has people to lean on #so it takes a bit for him to remember he has an adult to take care of him now #bro definitely overworks himself a lot in his haste to take care of mob :(#ritsu eventually lets himself lean on reigen when he's tired #poor kid melts into that kind of care after so long of not having that and being the sole provider for him and mob #when tome came around it got easier. but that also meant it was another mouth to feed so.only a little bit easier </3

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