#the shots in this show are so beautiful and deserve to be taken in without words

[no1ryomafan]

[7-deadly-cats]

·.♡ fuck valentine's day

M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

♡ G E N R E ♡ one shot, angst but happy ending, steamy but not-explicit

♡ P A I R I N G ♡ taken!s4!rafe cameron x bsf!reader (f)

♡ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ♡ strong language, angst but happy ending, suggestive language and themes, major argument, mention of substance abuse (alcohol and coke), emotional distress, toxic relationship (not with you tho hihihi) and manipulation, brief mention of physical violence (just a punch), mildly suggestive scenes and hint of intimacy and sex but no explicit content, my recommendation: 16+

♡ S U M M A R Y ♡ After the death of Ward Cameron, Rafe starts to reclaim his life, becoming more grounded and family-oriented. However, his close friendship with you slowly crumbles after Sabrina, his seemingly perfect girlfriend, enters the picture. You, grappling with suppressed feelings for Rafe, try to step back, but Sabrina's manipulative nature causes tensions to rise. On a stormy Valentine’s Day, a broken-down car leads to an unexpected confrontation between Rafe and you in which emotions spill over. As truths are revealed, your complicated relationship takes an intense and transformative turn, forcing both to confront what you truly mean to each other.

♡ W O R D C O U N T ♡ 8.3k+

♡ A / N ♡ this is the most i've ever written in ONE day (yes i spent the whole valentine's day writing this lmao) and i put my whole soul into it, and i know it's LONG but i promise i tried my best to make it work. so anyway happy very late valentine's day to everyone, hope you enjoy this little one shot <3 maybe it's a little cheesy, cringe and cliche (especially at the end) but i guess that's what this day is about. and i really enjoyed writing it hihhi + would love to hear your thoughts on this one (would mean a lot)

♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡ ·.♡

Ward Cameron’s death was, in your eyes, the best thing that could’ve ever happened to Rafe. He was finally free from the toxic relationship with his father. Free from years of manipulation, being pushed around, and constant disregard.

Of course, it hadn’t happened overnight. The first step had been taken long before Ward’s death—back when he fell into a coma and Rafe was suddenly thrusted into the role of being the man of the house. It was during that time Rafe realized the family and their business could function without Ward Cameron at the helm.

Ward’s death had simply been the final key that unlocked Rafe’s cage. And as he let go of his father, he also let go of a significant part of his old life.

He became more grounded, business-minded, and above all, family-oriented. He kept talking about fixing things with Sarah and pulling Wheezie away from Rose’s grip.

Rafe Cameron genuinely wanted to become a better man.

Watching him finally blossom as a person was so incredibly beautiful to witness. And yet, it shattered your heart into a thousand pieces knowing you weren’t the one standing by his side as it happened.

Not in this way at least.

Sure, you had been there for him during his darkest, most destructive moments. You had stayed by his side when he’d said and done things that were nearly impossible to take back. He had hurt people close to him—you included—and yet, you had never left.

Deep down, you knew that underneath all the frustration and rage was a broken boy who just craved love and recognition. And no one had ever given him the chance to show that part of himself.

That’s exactly why you'd never dared to confess your feelings to him. He deserved love but there had never been a time when he’d been truly ready for a serious relationship.

Telling him about your feelings, purely out of selfishness, would’ve led to one of two outcomes: either an unstable relationship where he clung to the idea of being loved without genuinely loving you back, or the deterioration of your friendship due to his fear of commitment.

So, you suppressed your thoughts, feelings, and the love you held for him. You preferred to love him from afar as your best friend rather than risk dragging him into a formless relationship during his unstable state.

Tragically, that mindset became deeply ingrained in your brain. Even after Ward’s death, when Rafe visibly began to change for the better and showed clear signs of looking to settle down with someone, you stayed silent.

Not out of fear of losing him but out of sheer stubbornness, waiting for the “right moment.”

And that hesitation cost you your chance: another woman got there first and won Rafe’s heart.

Sabrina Anderson—he met her at a charity gala. She was stunningly beautiful, wealthy, had an excellent academic background, and everything about her screamed old money.

She appeared like the picture-perfect Kook girlfriend. Everything Rafe thought he wanted in a woman.

And, for fuck’s sake, it felt like the universe was punishing you for your patience and hesitation.

Normally, you would’ve accompanied Rafe to his important events as his plus one but this one time, this one fucking time, you had canceled because you’d promised Topper you’d help him move into his stupid new place (yeah, he had finally gotten his act together and left his toxic family’s home). And like the idiot you were, you completely forgot the gala was happening that day.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. You know I usually write this stuff down in my calendar but I must’ve missed it somehow,” you said the night before the gala while helping Rafe pick the perfect outfit.

Rafe just waved it off with a cheeky grin as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I’ll survive one evening without your bad jokes and complaints about the tiny dessert portions.”

“They are tiny portions. I think they’re expecting a bunch of kids as guests,” you retorted, your eyes flickering briefly to his sun-kissed, bare chest. You quickly averted your gaze and handed him a new shirt. “I think this one works better. Next time, I’ll be there. Promise. Even if Topper’s new place is on fire.”

Rafe nodded, amused, as he slipped on the new shirt. “That’s not even unlikely with his mom around. That woman’s straight-up on ‘psycho mom marries son’ type shit.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “Don’t say that. Next thing you know, it’ll be on TLC or some other trash TV channel.”

And so, you spent the rest of the evening together.

Rafe tried on a few more suits — all of which looked amazing on him (and in every single one of them, you wanted to rip the clothes right off him, though you'd never say that out loud).

You baked a pizza together, watched some movies in his bed, and every time you showed him one of your dumb, brain-rotting reels, he rolled his eyes, but every so often, he’d sent you one of his own because, deep down, he probably loved how much they made you laugh.

At some point, you fell asleep in his bed, and Rafe brought you an extra blanket. The next morning, he drove you home and wished you luck at Topper’s move.

Had you known that would be the last night the two of you could act like that, you would’ve told him everything.

But how could you have known that the next night, a new girl would enter his life? How could you have known that Sabrina Anderson would sweep him off his feet in a way you never could? And how could you have predicted that she would endanger your entire friendship so deeply that within a few months, you and Rafe were little more than acquaintances?

At first, everything seemed fine. Rafe told you about the gala, about Sabrina, and about how perfect she was. Of course, it broke your heart, but the way he spoke about her helped heal it again because he seemed genuinely smitten with her.

They started texting, going on dates, and Rafe did things for her he’d never done for anyone else. You being the exception, of course, but well, he’d never considered you a potential love interest, right?

Sabrina was different. He officially tried courting her. He bought her the most beautiful flowers, spoiled her with the most expensive jewelry, and gave everything to be a good boyfriend.

And so, their relationship grew more serious, and eventually, he introduced her to you, Topper, and Kelce at a party at Tannyhill.

That’s when everything went downhill.

Topper and Kelce obviously thought she was hot, of course. Those idiots were just guys, after all. They couldn’t see past her perfectly shaped breasts and the cute ass hidden under a stylish dress.

But for you, alarm bells were ringing. Something about Sabrina just felt... off. Sure, she was incredibly sweet and nice but whenever she looked at you, there was something darker lurking beneath her gaze.

You dismissed it immediately, assuming you were just biased because of your own feelings for Rafe. A part of you simply couldn’t accept that another woman was making him happy.

Besides, you were still his best friend. You’d been through thick and thin together, and nothing could tear the two of you apart. Not even a girlfriend.

Sure, Sabrina would be part of everything from now on but the chemistry between you and Rafe... that was something special, and even an idiot could see it.

So it wasn’t entirely surprising when Sabrina cornered you in the kitchen later that night, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “Oh, hey, Y/N. Needed a little breather too?”

You were pouring yourself another drink, and even though she gave you a weird feeling, you managed a smile. “Yeah, when Kelce DJs, it tends to get loud.”

Sabrina nodded in agreement but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “True. Rafe seems to have some... interesting friends.”

The way she said it, while looking directly at you, should’ve been enough for you to go straight to Rafe and tell him something about Sabrina wasn’t right. But you just shrugged as you added vodka to your cup. “Kelce’s a bit weird but he’s cool once you get to know him. And Topper’s always reliable when it counts.”

“And you?” Her innocent look didn’t match her tone.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. “What about me?”

“When Rafe mentioned he had a girl best friend, I didn’t think that...” She paused, tilting her head with a bemused smile. “Well, you know, that she was his ex.”

What the fuck?

Your eyebrows shot up, and you shook your head in confusion. “I’m not his ex. Where did you get that from?”

Sabrina let out a soft giggle, as if your reaction had been overly dramatic. “You don’t have to get so defensive. I just thought, well, you two seem so close, and the way you act with each other... it’s only natural I’d have a few concerns, right?”

You shook your head again, though you couldn’t stop the warmth creeping across your cheeks. “We’re just friends, Sabrina. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“So... just to be clear, you two never had anything going on? You know, slept with each other or something?” She still wore that fake innocent smile.

What a bitch.

“No, of course not,” you replied dryly. “It’s always been purely platonic between me and Rafe.”

Sabrina let out a lighthearted sigh. “Oh, that’s a relief. Then I guess you’re basically like a little sister to him.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean. You shrugged. “I guess."

This time, Sabrina’s gaze darkened, though her facade still didn’t slip. “Good. I mean, I’d just like to think siblings behave a little more... appropriately.”

You only smiled in response but in that moment, the first brick of a massive wall between you and Rafe had been laid.

Because deep down, as much as it ate at you, Sabrina was right. It had never been an issue before if you shared a bed with him, wore his clothes, kissed him during one of Kelce’s stupid Truth or Dare games, or hung on him like a lovesick monkey when you got too drunk.

You had been both single and the flirty banter between you had always been just that: a few dumb words or gestures, nothing more.

But now Rafe had a girlfriend. He was taken. And all those things were no longer okay. And even though he was your best friend and hadn’t yet drawn those boundaries for the sake of his new relationship, you did.

At first, it was a slow process. Movie nights turned into movie afternoons, and instead of laying in his bed, you suggested the couch because it was cozier… right? And even though he still preferred you as his plus one for events, you started declining, insisting Sabrina would probably appreciate it more (Wouldn’t she, Rafe?).

You also pulled away from hugs quicker than before, drank less at parties to avoid doing anything dumb around him, and when it came to games like Never Have I Ever or Truth or Dare, you became a mere spectator. What used to be teasing touches were reduced to the bare minimum.

Your friendship began to waver and Sabrina kept Rafe so busy — dragging him from one date to another, satisfying him in ways you could only dream of — that he barely noticed how far the two of you had drifted apart.

Of course, the others around you weren’t stupid. Topper and Kelce immediately noticed the strange new tension between you and Rafe. Even fucking Ruthie, Topper’s girlfriend—and the two of you were definitely not on good terms—pulled you aside one evening.

However, you knew she didn’t do it out of concern for you. No, Ruthie felt threatened by Sabrina’s presence just as much as you did.

“Are you seriously going to let her walk all over you?” she asked, cornering you outside the bathroom at a beach party. “That bitch is a manipulative snake.”

God, you wanted to agree, to vent to Ruthie about how much Sabrina pissed you off. But for Rafe’s sake, you bit back the words and said instead, “If you want, I can let him know how you feel. I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

Ruthie, unimpressed, just smiled. “Oh, please. When’s the last time you two even talked alone?”

That stung because it was true.

Three months into his relationship with Sabrina, she’d already built a thick wall between you and Rafe.

These days, you only saw each other at parties or when the group hung out, and even then, getting a private moment with him was rare. Sabrina clung to him like a shadow, always watching, always there.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d done something together, just the two of you. He barely seemed to have time for anyone else anymore, not even you.

And that was the problem. Rafe was so terrified of letting this chance at a “perfect” future with someone slip away that he clung to Sabrina just as tightly as she clung to him. Because even though Ward Cameron was no longer alive, one thing had stuck with Rafe: the idea of family.

That’s what Ward had valued above everything else, and Rafe thought he’d finally found that dream with Sabrina Anderson.

And even though it tore you apart, even though it cost you sleepless, tear-filled nights, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him about it. It was so incredibly wrong and cowardly, especially because you KNEW what kind of person Sabrina was. You KNEW that, eventually, her controlling nature would probably drive a wedge between Rafe and the rest of the group too—Topper, Kelce, everyone.

But in that moment, he seemed happy.

And you couldn’t be the one to take that happiness away from him, even if it meant losing him in the process.

It was unbelievably stupid, and deep down, you knew he deserved better. But the real problem wasn’t Sabrina. It was you.

No matter who stood at Rafe’s side, any girl would have reacted the same way Sabrina did. Maybe they wouldn’t have been as cunning about it, but no girl would have been okay with the bond you shared with Rafe. Some might’ve confronted him directly, others might’ve tried breaking you apart like Sabrina had, and some would’ve just given up and broken things off immediately.

And Rafe had realized that too, in his own way. The connection between you and him... it wasn’t a normal “best friends” kind of thing. You were probably the most important person in his life, until Sabrina had shown up. But Rafe had been too blind, too scared, to admit it to himself.

Or worse, to admit it to you.

Because the truth was, Rafe had feelings for you. He wasn’t stupid—how could he not have fallen for you? You’d stood by him during his darkest moments, even when he confessed to you about killing Peterkin. Hell, you would’ve followed him to Barbados if he hadn’t insisted you stay behind, where you’d be safe.

But Rafe also knew how messed up he was. He knew there was something deeply wrong with him. He was loud, impulsive, and reckless. At his worst, he’d nearly been willing to kill Sarah and his own father.

Rafe Cameron was a deeply unstable wreck and the last thing he wanted was to drag you down with him.

You deserved someone better. Someone kind and loving, someone who didn’t have anger issues or a fucked-up mind like his. Someone who knew their limits and respected others’.

God, how many times had he sat next to you at parties, though, with you drunk or high, leaning against him, your big, tired eyes looking up at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered? It had taken every ounce of self-control not to press his lips to yours right then and there, to carry you upstairs to his bed and forget about the party downstairs.

And the worst part? The thought of all the times you’d actually fallen asleep next to him in his bed. How badly he’d wanted you then—to kiss you, love you, to feel you. Not in the way he'd done with random hookups in the past. God, no. What he felt for you ran so much deeper, more primal, than that. It was like hunger, like thirst. He didn’t just want you. He needed you—every piece of you, your whole being.

So, as time passed and you remained distant, Rafe Cameron broke under the weight of the wall between you.

But while you hid away in your room, drowning yourself in movies, shows, mindless phone games, loud music, and lonely nights, Rafe fell back into old habits.

Not all at once, but slowly, quietly, in a way that would destroy him eventually. More empty whiskey bottles started showing up around the house. The occasional bag of coke appeared in his drawers again. And when he came home from parties with Sabrina, it was rarely without a bruise or a bloody nose.

And when he fucked her afterward, it wasn’t out of love. It was out of frustration and anger. Anger at himself for losing you, for letting you slip away, for not daring to chase after you out of cowardice.

And every time a soft moan left Sabrina’s lips, it wasn’t her he thought of.

It was you.

Of course, you heard about all of this. Not because you were present to witness his behavior (you avoided any place Rafe might show up these days) but through Topper and Kelce. They’d call or text you constantly, begging you to make up with Rafe. Because it wasn’t just you they were losing from the group—it was him too.

One night, Rafe even punched Topper, giving him a bloody nose, after Topper had the guts to bring up the whole situation. It wasn’t the complaints about Sabrina that set Rafe off, no, it was when your beautiful name had left Topper's lips.

Because Topper was right: Rafe had screwed it all up.

But he was too angry, too broken, to believe he could ever fix things with you.

Of course, he was Rafe Cameron. If Sabrina actually broke up with him, he’d just find someone else—at least, that’s what he had told himself for a while. But whether it was out of habit, some deeper fear of abandonment, or simply the thought of losing someone again, he couldn’t deny it.

Deep down he was afraid of losing her.

So, when Sabrina made it clear she was serious this time, he tried to do better. Especially because Rafe wasn’t sure if he had the energy—or the patience—to let someone new get that close again.

No, he couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t.

And what better day to secure her forever than Valentine’s Day?

Rafe wasn’t exactly a romantic but for this occasion, he had it all planned out: He’d take Sabrina out, spoil her with whatever she wanted, treat her like royalty. Dinner at the most expensive, exclusive restaurant, a private balcony lit by candlelight. Then, when they got back to Tannyhill, he’d carry her inside, through a house decorated with rose petals, scented candles, and heart-shaped balloons.

He’d take her to their shared bedroom, hold her close, and tell her how much he loved her—that he couldn’t imagine his life without her. And then, he’d drop to one knee, pull out the most extravagant, glamorous ring she could dream of, and ask her to marry him.

He figured she’d probably say yes. After all, despite everything, she knew Rafe would do anything to keep her, and being a Cameron opened doors that her own name couldn’t.

And later, as he bent her over in the rose-adorned bed, he’d remind her how perfect she was. Though in truth, he’d be convincing himself that losing you had at least brought him this.

But, as if the universe was punishing him for his past and future mistakes, the weather had other plans. A torrential downpour hit the island with strong winds and relentless rain. Leaving the house was impossible—any attempt would’ve ended in getting drenched or worse, an accident.

So, Rafe had no choice but to scrap his grand plans and stay at Tannyhill with Sabrina. Unfortunately, he’d already teased her days in advance about the “special surprises” he had in store.

In short: Sabrina wasn’t happy. She was upset about the weather, frustrated that Rafe’s plans had fallen through, and irritated with him by association.

It took everything Rafe had to hold his temper and avoid a full-blown argument. But he was determined not to screw this up. He cooked for her, gave her massages, played the music she liked, and later that evening, he drew her a luxurious bath to unwind.

That seemed to calm her, at least a little.

So, while Rafe stayed inside, trying to salvage the day, you were spending your Valentine’s with your grandmother. (It wasn’t like you had a date anyway, so why celebrate it?) She lived about an hour outside the Outer Banks, and you’d spent the day catching up with her, enjoying the quiet.

But as someone who rarely paid attention to her phone nowadays and definitely didn’t check the weather, you had no idea about the storm brewing in the area.

It wasn’t until you started your drive home that you realized just how bad it was. The rain came down in sheets, so thick it was nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The roads were slippery, the wind was howling, and you found yourself gripping the wheel tighter than ever.

“Okay,” you told yourself, “just go slow. Better to get home late than not at all.”

That was supposed to be the plan, until your dad’s expensive Bentley decided to give up on you in the middle of an empty back road. No houses nearby, no streetlights, and definitely no one around to help.

You sighed, muttering a curse under your breath. Okay, it’s fine. Probably just a fluke. You tried turning the key in the ignition again. Then again. And again.

Nothing.

Alright, not so fine.

Panic began creeping in but you forced yourself to stay calm. You couldn’t fix the car, and stepping out in this weather wasn’t an option. Your only choice was to call someone for help.

Your grandmother was already asleep by now and you didn’t want to worry her. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, so they were off the table, too. That left Kelce and Topper.

You tried Topper first but he sent you straight to voicemail. You were pretty sure Ruthie had something to do with that. Kelce picked up but the loud music and slurred tone on the other end told you he was having way too much fun at some club to be of any use.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

You scrolled through your contacts but nobody else seemed like a good option. Sure, you had other friends from your years at high school but who would actually drive half an hour in this weather on Valentine's Day just to pick you up?

Your thumb hovered over Rafe’s name, chest tightening.

The Rafe you used to know would’ve come for you in a heartbeat—rain, wind, storm, volcano, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would’ve been there, no questions asked. But now? You hadn’t really spoken to him in weeks, and you weren’t even sure if he still had your number saved.

Besides, you didn’t want to ruin his Valentine’s with Sabrina. Topper had mentioned things were rocky between them for a while but apparently, Rafe had gotten things back on track.

So, that left… what? Spending the night in the car and hoping Kelce or Topper would sober up enough to rescue you in the morning? Not exactly ideal.

You glanced around nervously. You didn’t know this area well and the heavy rain pounding against the roof wasn’t helping your growing unease. It was dark, the only light coming from your phone which was now dangerously low on battery.

Great, you thought, sinking back into the seat. Just perfect.

Yeah, fuck, you were scared.

You bit the inside of your cheeks, your fingers hovering over Rafe's number. He probably wouldn’t even pick up—most likely cuddled up with Sabrina on the couch.

He’s not going to answer anyway, you thought, swallowing the lump of guilt forming in your throat.

Then, you hit call.

Not even two rings later, he answered. “Y/n?” His voice sounded both confused and alert, a heart-wrenching distance in it.

A lump formed in your throat at the sound of his familiar voice and only then did you realize how much you’d hoped he would actually pick up.

“Rafe…” Your voice was quiet, slightly shaky, given the situation you were in. “I... I’m so sorry to bother you. I know it’s Valentine’s Day, and I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t—”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His tone shifted immediately, softer now, filled with concern.

“Yes! No. I mean… no,” you stammered, struggling to get the words out. “I was just at my grandma’s, and my dad’s Bentley broke down. I already tried calling Kelce and Topper, but—”

“Where are you?” he interrupted, and your heart clenched deeply.

“Rafe, you don’t have to—I just thought maybe—”

“Y/n.” His voice was firm now, leaving no room for argument. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

You hesitated, then muttered, “I really don’t want to ruin your Valentine’s Day.”

“Fuck Valentine’s Day,” Rafe said, frustration in his voice, unmistakable concern underneath. “Send me your location, and tomorrow morning I’ll beat the shit out of Kelce and Topper for not answering.”

Despite the tension of the situation, despite the fear and guilt gnawing at you, a laugh escaped your lips.

For a moment, you paused, then sent him your live location.

“I’ll be there soon. Stay in the car, lock the doors, and don’t open up for anyone,” he instructed.

You barely managed to thank him before he hung up. And despite the guilt gnawing heavy at your chest, an immense wave of relief washed over you.

Rafe was in his closet, pulling out two jackets and a hoodie, when Sabrina walked out of the bathroom, her cheeks flushed pink from the steam and a towel barely wrapped around her, exposing her still-damp legs.

She frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m picking up Y/n,” he said, slipping on one of the jackets. “Her car broke down in the middle of nowhere.”

A flush of red rose to Sabrina’s pretty face, her brow furrowing deeply. “And she called you?”

Rafe shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “No one else picked up. I’ll be back in an hour—”

“Are you serious, Rafe?” Her voice sharpened, rising in pitch. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re driving out in this weather for HER, but you couldn’t even take me to dinner in town?”

Rafe grimaced, but his voice remained calm. “Like I said, I’ll be back soon. Don’t make this into a big deal.”

Sabrina scoffed, crossing her arms. “A big deal? You think I am the one being dramatic? Y/n is a grown woman. She knows we’re spending this evening together, and she still called you?”

"She called because she needs help, not because she’s trying to ruin your night or some shit," Rafe said, his tone making it clear she was being ridiculous. Still, he didn’t want to push her any further. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Look, baby—”

But Sabrina just shook her head in irritation. “My night? What’s that supposed to mean, huh?! This is our night, Rafe. And now you’re ditching our night for her?!” She stepped closer, her voice rising. “I’ve always known she was a threat to our relationship.”

“A threat?” Rafe raised his brows in disbelief as he stood up. “Come on, Sabrina, that’s insane. Just drop this bullshit.”

Her face flushed a deep, angry red. “I—excuse me? Do you even hear yourself right now? She hasn’t called you in weeks, Rafe. Weeks. And the second she does, you’re running off like some pathetic, lovesick puppy? It’s so embarrassing. For you, and especially for me.”

It took everything Rafe had to keep from completely losing it. Her words hit a nerve, and deep down, he knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. You had pulled away from him—hell, both of you had.

His blood was boiling, but all he could think about was you, sitting alone in that damn car in this awful weather.

Rafe took a step toward her, towering over her. Maybe he could control his words but he couldn't control his voice, now loud and frustrated.

He gestured to his chest with furrowed brows. “Tell me then, what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?! Leave her stranded out there all by herself?”

Sabrina nodded as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She’ll figure it out, it’s just one night and—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” His voice was dangerously calm now. “Pack your things and get the fuck out of my house.”

For a moment, Sabrina stared at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Rafe said, his gaze cold and full of suppressed disdain. “Get dressed and leave.”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re being crazy, you—”

“If you’re not out the door in five minutes, I’ll make sure to throw you out myself.”

Sabrina blinked, her face twisting in disbelief. “You can’t just kick me out. It’s pouring outside, Rafe. It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Unbothered, Rafe shrugged, mimicking her earlier words. “You’re a grown woman. You’ll figure it out.”

And as the leech that called herself Sabrina Anderson had finally disappeared from Tannyhill, Rafe climbed into his SUV and took off.

His chest felt tight, his mind racing, yet at the same time, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. You were the only thing on his mind right now. He didn’t even try to put into words the heavy, suffocating feeling that lingered.

He’d messed up again—this time with Sabrina. But there was no regret, no sadness, nothing. If anything, it felt good to finally be rid of her. It wasn’t until halfway through the drive that he realized how much of a blind idiot he’d been. On some subconscious level, he’d been waiting for a moment like this, a reason to cut her out of his life.

For the first time in months, he could gasp for air, without her breathing down his neck. And as the last few months replayed in his mind, it hit him—she’d been a parasite, manipulating him, controlling him, molding him to fit her needs. Maybe he’d known all along but he hadn’t wanted to admit it.

Breaking free from her had been almost as hard as breaking free from his father. And, apart from Topper—who’d earned himself a punch to the face—no one had called him out. No one had tried to wake him up.

Not even you.

He shook off the thoughts as he spotted the silhouette of a dark car up ahead. His heart sank, thinking about how you must be feeling—completely alone on that pitch-black road.

Pulling up behind the Bentley, he grabbed the umbrella and jacket he’d thrown onto the passenger seat and stepped out into the pouring rain.

The umbrella didn’t do much. His jeans were soaked through almost immediately. But he didn’t care. He knocked on your car door, and the look of relief on your face when you unlocked and opened it made his chest ache deeply.

Then he noticed the redness in your eyes and a gut-wrenching heavy feeling settled in his stomach. “Hey. You okay? Here, take the jacket.”

Shivering, you hesitated but took it anyway, the relief coursing through your body almost enough to keep you warm.

“Rafe…” you started as you stepped under his umbrella but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, his hand resting gently on your back. “Let’s get you out of this weather.”

His touch sent a shiver down your spine but you didn’t argue. You hurried with him to his SUV and he opened the door for you, waiting to make sure you were inside before tossing the umbrella into the backseat and climbing in himself.

For a moment, the only sound was the pounding rain against the roof. Rafe gestured to the hoodie on the dashboard. “Put that on. You’re just in shorts.”

Still, you hesitated. It felt wrong somehow. The familiar scent of his car—of him—was already too much.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n.” He grabbed the hoodie and draped it over your bare knees. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You didn’t know what to think or say. Rafe had come out here for you in this weather, left Sabrina behind, and… while you were endlessly grateful, you couldn’t shake the guilt.

As he started the car and pulled back onto the road, some horrible feeling churned in your chest again. “Rafe, I’m really sorry. If I’d known it was raining like this, I would’ve stayed at my grandma’s, I—”

“Drop it,” Rafe cut in, his eyes fixed on the road. “You needed help, and I came. That’s all there is to it.”

You glanced at him, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his profile seemed sharper in the dim light. Hesitantly, you asked, “And Sabrina… how mad is she?”

It surprised you that she hadn’t insisted on coming along.

“She’s gone,” he said firmly, still staring straight ahead.

Your heart sank to your stomach. “Gone? I… what do you mean, gone?”

“I threw her out.” His tone was blunt, almost defiant. He finally looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. “What—why? What happened? Is it because I called? I—”

“Because she’s a fucking bitch,” Rafe cut in flatly. He dragged a hand down his face before turning back to you, his tone softening as he caught the shock in your eyes. “I should’ve done it a long time ago. I just… I was too blinded by all her fake bullshit.”

Your fingers clenched into the fabric of his hoodie on your lap, your thoughts spiraling. “Rafe, I’m really—”

“No,” he interrupted again, his brows pulling together. “I swear to God, if you say you’re sorry one more time, I’ll throw you out too.” There wasn’t an ounce of seriousness in his voice, though.

He sighed heavily, the frustration evident. “It’s all just… so fucked. Everything about this. It pisses me off. I really thought she was the one, and I was so blind to all her flaws.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Jesus, Y/n, why didn’t you say anything?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” he shot back, the frustration he’d been holding back now bubbling to the surface. “It’s obvious she came between us. I was too stupid—fuck, I was too into her to see it. But you…” His voice faltered, and he seemed to collect himself. “You’re not stupid. You’re always the first one to spot red flags in people. Shit, even fucking Topper eventually figured it out.” He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let her play her stupid little games?”

You couldn’t tell if he was angry at you, Sabrina, himself, the situation, or all of it combined. “I…” But what could you say without revealing too much? “I thought she made you happy and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that. I didn’t think it would turn out like this.”

“Bullshit.” The sharpness in his tone made you flinch. “You were my best friend. You’ve never had a problem speaking your mind when something bothered you. And now you’re telling me you let that bitch silence you?”

There it was. He’d used the past tense. You had been his best friend. Hearing it from his mouth shattered something deep inside you that you’d believed was already broken.

“That bitch, Rafe,” you snapped, a sharp edge creeping into your own voice, “was your girlfriend, just so you know. So, yeah, fine, I’ll admit it—when you first introduced her, every alarm bell in my head went off. Is that what you want to hear? I knew, and I didn’t do a damn thing about it. Boo-fucking-hoo. But you know what? You let it happen just as much as I did.”

And in that moment, you realized just how angry you were at Rafe. Sure, he’d been infatuated but was that really an excuse? He was just as much to blame for all of this as you were.

Rafe scoffed bitterly as he turned onto the main road leading into Figure 8. “I don’t get it. Did she say something to you? Is that why you pulled away? Shit, did she have something on you? Nudes or some shit like that?”

“What? No!” You stared at him, equal parts exhausted and horrified. You were cold, hungry, and overwhelmed by a storm of emotions boiling beneath the surface. You didn’t even know where to start. “Let's drop this, I'm tired. Please just take me home.”

But when he drove past your street without even slowing down, you frowned at him in disbelief. “What—”

“We’re talking this out,” he said flatly, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “If I drop you off now, nothing’s gonna change, and I’m so done with this shit.”

You opened your mouth to argue but when his tired, frustrated eyes met yours, the words caught in your throat. “Afterward, I’ll drive you home, and you can sulk in peace if you want,” he added, his tone softer but firm, hints at desperation undermining his words.

You stayed silent and turned your gaze out the window, hugging yourself. You knew him well enough to realize there was no point in arguing. When Rafe set his mind on something, there was no swaying him.

By the time the SUV pulled up to Tannyhill, the storm had mostly passed, though the occasional raindrop still pattered against the windshield. The two of you climbed out in silence. Despite the light drizzle, Rafe grabbed the umbrella from the backseat nonetheless and opened it over you both as he walked you to the house.

The door clicked open with a soft push and Rafe let you step inside first. As the door shut behind you and the warm glow of the entryway light filled the space, you were suddenly hit by an overwhelming, almost suffocating sense of unease.

The walls were lined with red heart-shaped balloons. The faint scent of roses lingered in the air, mingled with something sweeter you couldn’t quite place. Blown-out candles dotted every available surface, and the staircase was covered in a delicate carpet of red rose petals leading to the next floor.

It was… perfect.

Your stomach twisted as you took it all in, the earlier argument momentarily forgotten. Still staring at the carefully arranged display, you spoke softly. “You did all this for her?”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh. “Shit, I was even gonna propose to her tonight.”

Your heart stopped.

A proposal? He’d been that serious about Sabrina? Your gut twisted and you felt like throwing up. This was all too much to take in.

“But I’m glad you called,” he said after a moment, his voice softer this time, carrying an edge of something almost vulnerable.

You pressed your lips together and turned around, just to be hit with a shocking sight.

Now, under the bright light, you could finally see just how much this relationship had drained him. The dark circles under his eyes, the pallor of his skin, the way his cheekbones stood out more sharply than they should. It all painted a picture of someone who had given too much and gotten nothing in return.

And then the dam broke.

All the emotions you’d suppressed over the past few months—frustration, sadness, guilt, and fear—boiled down into the rawest form of emotion: anger.

“She’s a stupid fucking whore,” was all you managed to get out.

Rafe blinked, caught off guard by your reaction. “What?”

You shook your head, struggling to put your swirling thoughts into words. “She’s a stupid, arrogant, deceitful, manipulative bitch who doesn't deserve you. I mean, seriously, she ruined this,” you gestured between the two of you, “us. She tore us apart. You were my best friend, Rafe. There were times when we’d spend an entire week together, just the two of us, rotting in bed and sending Kelce and Topper stupid snaps, and then she came along, and… and everything changed overnight.”

Your brows furrowed deeply. “She’s such a disgusting person—no, scratch that—a creature. A monster. On the very first night I met her, she came up to me, and she had the nerve to question my relationship with you.” You shook your head with a grimace. “Like, she thought our friendship was too intimate or some bullshit like that. And I don’t know, I guess it got to me. What if she was right? I didn’t want to be the problem. I didn’t want to be a threat to your relationship with her.” You let your gaze drop. “So, I backed off.”

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice as you met his pretty blue eyes again. “God, I could just smash my head against the wall. I should’ve said something. To her, and especially to you! But I was so afraid that I was wrong about her. That I was blinded by my…” Feelings. You stopped yourself, the word stuck in your throat. “By my worry for you. I mean, at first, it seemed like she was good for you, so I stayed quiet. But by then, the damage was done and…” Your voice softened, almost like a question. “At some point, I thought, maybe if it was so easy to build a wall between us, then maybe our friendship was doomed to fail anyway.”

And there it was.

You’d said everything you’d bottled up, laid all your frustration out in front of him, and yet, there was still so much left unsaid. But you were exhausted, done with all of this, tired and pissed off, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath.

Rafe stared at you, his expression unreadable. Whether he was stunned, irritated, frustrated, you couldn’t tell. And this realization hurt all the more because you’d grown so far apart, you couldn’t even read his emotions anymore.

His brows twitched, eyeing you with a scowl as if there was some deep suppressed anger inside him.

Finally, after a moment of seemingly endless silence, he spoke. “Shit, this bitch has been right all along.”

His words hit you like a lightning strike and before you could ask the meaning of his words, Rafe closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his lips to yours as if they were the only place he ever belonged.

Frozen, overwhelmed, and confused, you stood still. A thousand questions and emotions surged through you. But in that moment, you pushed them all aside and let yourself melt into it, fingers clinging to his shirt, afraid to let go.

The kiss was raw, desperate, hungry as if you were the only thing that could satisfy the emotions he’d been holding back. Rafe’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Every pent-up feeling from the past few weeks poured out through the way his lips moved against yours.

And god, you felt so good. Your soft lips on his, the warmth of your body pressed against him.

Shit. Even though he’d had Sabrina beneath him night after night, thrusting into her mindlessly, in this moment, he felt so endlessly touch-starved.

Not for the empty satisfaction of release, no.

For you.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady yourselves.

Your lips were swollen from the kiss, and you were too scared and stunned to say anything, afraid that speaking would shatter the moment.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Rafe finally said, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheek, his voice low and raw. “It’s you. It’s always been you, Y/n. Fuck, it wouldn’t have mattered if it was Sabrina or any other brain-dead bitch. When you call, I’ll come running every single time. And I almost lost you because of all her bullshit." He sighed, lowering his eyes for a second, trying to grapple his words. "I think, somewhere in my head, I convinced myself I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. So I went for girls like Sabrina. Girls who are... Shit, I don’t know, seemingly polished and perfect on the outside but completely empty on the inside.” His brows twitched, his voice quiet. “The kind of girl I thought I was supposed to be with.

“But she’s not perfect." He scoffed. "Holy shit, not even close. She’s pretentious and selfish, and she made me feel like I had to change just to fit into her world. But you?” He let out a nervous laugh, meeting your eyes again, a vulnerability in his tone you’d never heard before. “You’ve never wanted me to change. You’ve always let me be ... me, even when I’m a complete fucking idiot.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much. Like I don’t have to prove anything.”

For a moment, his words hung in the air, sinking in. Your brain needed a second to fully process everything he’d just said. The weight of what just spilled out of him.

His blue eyes bore into your soul as if he were anxiously waiting for your approval, as if the way you returned his kiss hadn’t been answer enough. As if your next reaction would determine his entire life.

And then you laughed, a sweet and soft sound escaping your lips, cheeks burning, still hyper-aware of how his lips had felt on yours.

Overwhelmed, exhausted, and struggling to find the right words, you let your instincts take over. No words could describe how you felt in this moment. So, you let your action speak.

Your hands softly found his cheeks, pulling him back to your lips.

And Rafe? He didn’t hesitate. Fuck no, he took it as an invitation, wrapping his arms around you completely. His hands slid from your waist down to your hips, then lower. When he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapped around his hip, your hands finding his neck.

This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, like both of you were trying to savor every second, afraid this moment might slip away the very next.

He pressed you gently against the wall, the cold surface sending a shiver down your spine.

Your body's reaction made him smile into the kiss before pulling back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I guess this isn’t exactly the most comfortable spot, huh?”

A soft laugh escaped you. And with that sweet little sound, the last stubborn traces of tension melted away. Days, weeks, months—all those nights spent alone in your bed, frustrated and hurt by this whole... fucked-up, messed-up situation.

And hell, you didn’t have—shit no—you didn’t want to waste a single ounce of energy or thought on that time anymore. So all you said was "Could be worse. I’m used to your lumpy mattress.”

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled with playful mischief and his hands gave your butt a teasing squeeze. “Well, so far, all you’ve done is sleep in it.”

Heat rushed to your face, and before you could say anything, he adjusted his grip on you, holding you like he was afraid you might slip away. Your heart was racing, tumbling over itself in your chest, as he carried you upstairs, his arms steady but his pace a little too eager, a little too desperate, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

When he reached the top, he nudged the door open with his foot, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. No noise, no distractions, just you and him, in the quiet of his room, where nothing else mattered.

He set you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist like he couldn’t bring himself to let go. His lips found yours again. Not rushed, not frantic, but slow and deliberate, like he was making up for every second you’d been apart.

You felt the weight of it all in every kiss—weeks, months, maybe even years of suppressed feelings neither of you had dared to name.

His hands moved over you like he was memorizing you, tracing your body in a way that was equal parts hesitant and hungry, like he didn’t want to scare you but couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your fingers softly moved over his buzzed hair, pulling him closer, and he let out a low, almost broken sound against your lips that sent a shiver down your spine. His breath was warm as his kisses trailed down your neck, and it was overwhelming but in the best way possible.

That night, the room was filled with quiet laughter and soft murmurs, the sound of his name slipping from your lips like it was meant to. Rafe's touch was gentle but sure, every movement unspoken proof of just how much he'd missed you. The hours blurred together, and for once, nothing else mattered—just the two of you, tangled up and lost in each other like this was where you were always supposed to be.

And even though all of it—the candles, the balloons, the rose petals, a ring that never found its finger—had been meant for a manipulative bitch called Sabrina Anderson, she was already forgotten in both of your heads.

Erased by this moment. By you.

Because, like Valentine’s Days, she had always been all surface: pretty words, empty gestures, and nothing real beneath it.

And if you both were being honest, this cheesy day was overrated anyway. Like Rafe had said: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

And sometimes, fuck the person you end up confessing your love to at the end of it. Even—and maybe especially—if they were your former best friend.

R. C. M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M

[jyoongim]

Hey I love your work so much! Could you please write about alastor with a wife who’s just like Jessica rabbit and ended up in heaven because she didn’t know about him killing but came down to visit him after meeting Charlie when she went up there. I just think I’d be wild for someone like Al to have a wife like that

AAAAOOOOGGGGAAAAA!!!! I could have written this in soooo many ways but i think its a bit like one i already wrote but I hope you enjoy nevertheless!!! @alientee

I highly recommend you listen to The Night We Met, Copacabana, and Why don’t You Do Right!!!! That’s what I envisioned for this one request!!!!

The meeting between the Princess of Hell and the Angelic council was a mess.

The Princess had a look of defeat, so you took it upon yourself to let her show you her hotel.

You prompted that you will be the one to go down and see if it were possible that demons could be redeemed.

I mean everyone deserves a second chance right?

You were talk even the worst sinner still possessed some sort of decency.

So you followed the Princess to her hotel to show you around.

Charlie was elated that you didn’t think her dream was just some fluck.

She asked you all sorts of questions. How you ended up in heaven and how was your life before you died.

”Believe it or not I was a singer at a gentlemen’s lounge. Oh darlin you should have seen me in my prime! Jazz, booze, and oh I had the sweetest husband.”

Charlie was shocked. I mean, yes you were breathtaking, but you really didn’t seem like the type to be tied down to some guy.

You giggled at her expression.  It was often the look men gave you when you refused their advances, happily boasting you were a taken woman and not some hussy that could warm their beds.

”Oh you’ll really find that the hotel has character. Our hotel manager might be a little…hmmm creepy but don’t pay him any mind” she said opening the door to the hotel to lead you through the lobby.

And character it did.

The interior was old-fashion but it had charm. A bit masculine for a young woman to run it,  but if the manager was a man, you could see why it looked the way it did.

You took a seat on a couch and waited as Charlie went to gather the residents so you would meet them.

You were slightly nervous. You were in Hell and hadn’t the slightest clue what demons even looked like.

You fiddled with your ring, how you wished to see your husband.

”Everyone we have a special guest so pleeeeaasssee be on your best behavior” you heard Charlie say.

You caught sight of a gnarly bar and the bartender, you smiled

”shot of whiskey on the rock love” Husker turned around and his eyes widened, yours did too “Why i never thought…Husker?!” You squealed happily, lunging across the bar to hug the demon. He smiled and patted your back, pulling away “Husker what ya doing down here?” He gave you a deadpan look, making you laugh. You then thought about it..

If Husker was down here then that…

”Charlie you should have said such beauty in our circle i would have cleaned up a lot better” a voice purred, making your head turn.

A tall spider smiled at you, giving you a flirtatious wink, which you sent back with a wave.

A little cyclone, a snake, and a seemingly human woman entered the room.

Charlie smiled “This lovely angel has decided to have a look around to prove Heaven wrong”

You introduced yourself.

”Now i know you’re not here long so Ill give you a quick-”

Charlie was interrupted by a radio-like voice.

”Don’t tell me you’re going to give a tour without me Charlie? You know we work as a team-” his words trailed off as he caught sight of you.

You stood, a happy smile on your face “Alastor baby!” You practically ran into his arms.

”Ain’t no way…”

”Noooo”

”oh welll that do make ssssennssseee”

”Pretty lady!”

everyone watched in shock as Alastor twirled you around, peppering your face in kisses.

”oooohhh my dear what a surprise this is!” He said hugging you. You heard a throat clear and broke your hold on him, turning to see everyone confused.

You gave a sheepish smile. Alastor beamed and hooked a arm around your waist

”Everyone this doll here is my wife! The prettiest thing that ever graced the earth!” You playfully slapped his chest.

Everyone's mouths dropped.

”WHAT!?”

You sat in Alastor’s lap as you told how you knew the red demon. Rambling on about how you two met and how your lives were like.

They just couldn’t process it.

YOU were married to Alastor. 

Married to the most feared Overlord in Hell. 

Wife to the Radio Demon.

How the fuck?

You were an angel? Literally and figuratively!

”How the hell did Mr. Creepy face fancy talk here get a broad like you?” Angel asked.

Alastor’s chest puffed with pride. His smile almost broke his face “with charm and wit my deluded friend” He said as he leaned his chin on your shoulder.

You giggled, it was always entertaining to see people's reactions to who your husband was.

You turned to Alastor,  lips pouty with a feigned upset look

”Now i been dead forever and not once have I seen you. Why? Why weren’t you in Heaven?”

Alastor stiffened, how was he to tell you that during your time alive he had killed many people just for the fun of it?

“Weeelll my dear I might have killed a few people” 

You blinked and then thought about it.

It kind of made sense, he used to be out ‘hunting’ at weird times of day, be gone at night saying he was working.

 You had a hard time getting stains out of his clothing.

That do explains some things.

”So do you regret anything?” He let out a laugh

nope. Not a single thing.

You shook your head “well since I’m heeeerrrrreee…why don’t we swing by juke joint, if you’re here, I’m sure Mimzy is here. I could use a good time. Its stuffy up there in Heaven. No fun at all”

Charlie perked “Ahh yes you must see how the sinners here are really like and what better than enagaging with them?”

Angel smirked “I know a place waaaayy better than some old booze lounge”

A club. You were at a club.

Your eyes honed in on a mic on the stage and it just happened to be open night.

You batted your eyes and just like that you were on stage.

The lights dimmed and you flipped through some songs to pick.

You might have been a bit old-fashioned but you were caught up on some of the modern singers that came through heaven.

The band nodded at your choice and you took hold of the mic.

With a twirl of your hand, you dawned on a 1920s theme look.

The gang mouths were jaw dropped as you started to sing, the audience was captivated. Catcalls and whistles filled the air.

Alastor felt static run through him as he sighed lovingly as you came down the stage and sat on his lap, mock fixing his bow tie as you sang. You teasingly nipped at his lips, causing his ears to twitch as you smiled going back to waltzing around the stage.

You smiled as bowed as the crowd exploded with cheers and applause as the lights came back on.

Ain’t no way Alastor had a bad broad like you, but the way you happily giggled as he whispered in your ear, pulling you into his chest…

There wasn’t denying it.

You held the Radio Demon’s dark heart.

His sweet, alluring wife

who would have thought?

[luigisbambinaaa]

Soft Spot Pt. 2 ~

summary: spring break trip to cabo, luigi gets wiped out, and you’re sent to help him ;)

content warning: smut, oral (both receiving), p in v, luigi gets bruised

an: hi!! thank you to everyone that liked, shared, and commented on part 1!!!! also thank u to my homie palmersluvr for help with the formatting tho im still figuring it out. idk the word count but this shit is sooo long but i had so much fucking fun writing this so i hope you all enjoy :)! take a shot for every single time i said “rhythm” lol.

part 1

————————

weeks passed, and despite the playful texts shared between you and luigi, he wasn’t able to come back for a second “appointment”.

not because he didn’t want to. but because midterms had everyone busy— especially him.

sleep schedules were fucked up, group chats barely active, and every inch of the library taken over by students running on iced coffee.

luigi had practically disappeared— only proof of his existence being the many students that he tutored making jokes about how their TA had a spot reserved in heaven for all the hard work he’s done for them.

and yet, despite the chaos, there hadn’t been a single mention of back pain from him or his friends.

if anything, everyone noticed he seemed lighter. maybe your hands really had worked some sort of magic.

and eventually you were all able to taste the sweet freedom of spring break. friends of friends all headed to cabo for a well deserved get away.

instagram buzzing with photo dumps of tan lines and tiny bikinis, camera roll full of coconut drinks, beach sunsets, and grainy late-night dinners.

the resort ridiculously beautiful— picked out by luigi and others. shady palm trees stretching over the infinity pool, balconies overlooking the ocean, music a constant hum in the background no matter the hour. every corner full of beauty.

spending mornings with your girls walking the shoreline, tucking cute little seashells into your beach bag. afternoons spent exploring, wandering through colorful local markets, vendors beckoning you over in spanish, taking polaroids of everything. chaotic dinners with messy seafood platters, one too many margaritas, and tables full of friends cramming in every space they could.

and always, luigi was there, lingering just close enough to keep you on your toes. the flirting having been buried under study guides and endless cups of coffee— but not entirely gone.

you felt it in the way his eyes lingered on you in your sundresses, in the way he saved the empty chair next to him for you, in the way your fingers would brush when passing certain items across the table, yet neither of you said anything.

it was the kind of tension that hung in the air without needing to be addressed aloud. sweet, aching, and unbothered— until it wasn’t.

all the boys had decided to go out early that particular morning to catch some waves, lugging huge surfboards down to the beach while you and the rest of the girls stayed behind for some late brunch at the resort cafe.

you were mid-bite into a piece of french toast when someone burst into the outdoor patio, face red and out of breath.

“luigi wiped out bad on a huge wave,” they panted, trying to catch their breath, “board slammed him in the back, he should be okay, but he’s out for the day. they took him back to the room to rest.”

your stomach dropped. you honestly didn’t even realize how much you’d been hoping he’d show up that day, maybe just for lunch or just to sneak a few glances at you.

“can someone go check on him?” one of your friends asked, glancing around the table. “he’s probably fine, just milking it. but still.”

many of them shrugged, too caught up in their delicious breakfast food or downing their drinks to volunteer.

“you’re the nicest one here and have the expertise,” another added, pointing her fork at you with a smile. “can you go make sure he’s still breathing? im sure he won’t bite.”

they didn’t know. shit, nobody knew about you two. and so you nodded, wiping your hands on a napkin and standing slowly.

you headed back to your room first— not wanting to show up empty-handed. grabbing some essentials from your suitcase like some peppermint oil, aloe vera, the same lotion you used on him in your dorm, all thrown into your tote bag.

when you stepped back out into the hallway, one of the guys had caught up to you and handed you a spare key card.

“he’s in one of the oceanfront suites so i figured you might need this since he’s probably bed ridden”

you mutter a thank you and walked a few doors down the hallway. with the door clicking shut behind you, you stood still for a second, just admiring.

everything was nicer, sleek, clean, and expensive. the king sized bed resembling a cloud , a perfect plush comforter thrown over. floor to ceiling windows letting in sunlight that kissed every surface in gold, and a soft sea breeze drifting in through his open balcony door. and then there was a hot tub, massive and polished. half sunk into the floor near the balcony, something out of a dream.

your breath hitched.

“luigi?”

you called out gently, stepping further into his room. and then you saw him.

sprawled out across the bed, shirtless, eyes half closed, with a pillow or two tucked under his lower back.

his swimming trunks were riding low, dangerously low. low enough that your eyes traveled down the faint trail of hair leading down his stomach— the one you didn’t get to appreciate too much before.

your fingers clenched slightly around the strap of your tote bag, heart skipping a beat.

“…hi.” he replies softly and shyly.

you don’t say anything at first, tossing your bag on the dresser and kicking off your sandals without a second thought.

the bed dips slightly under your weight as you carefully climbed up beside him, leaning in slowly, one hand going to cradle the side of his face, your fingers instinctively tangling themselves in his curls, scratching his scalp softly.

“what the hell happened?” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the curve of his cheek. “how bad is it?”

he leaned into your touch just a little, lashes low and heat radiating off of him.

“hurts like a bitch,” he admitted, lips twitching into a tired grin, “but seeing you kind of helps.”

you rolled your eyes, but your thumb still stroked gently over his cheek.

“you’re such a baby,” you muttered, “let me see.”

he blinked up at you, hesitant. you pull back enough to sit on your knees, glancing down at the way his arm was draped over his stomach.

“come on, turn over so i can see, or do i need to do it for you?”

he grumbles something about you being bossy, but shifts anyway to let you get a good look. wincing slightly as he moved his arm, revealing an angry red mark blooming across his lower back and side— already beginning to bruise, dark and raw.

you sucked in a quiet breath.

“jesus, luigi…”

you reached for your tote bag and rummaged through it, pulling out the lotion and peppermint oil, warming it up in your hands.

“this might sting a little,” you warned.

“i trust you,” he murmured, eyes falling closed again.

your hands pressed carefully to his skin in slow, gentle circles at first, barely any pressure. and his breath hitched, not from pain, but from you and how you knew exactly where to touch without asking.

you kept your focus low, jaw clenching and unclenching, pretending not to notice the way his hips twitched slightly when your palms smoothed along the curve of his waist.

“relax,” you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

your fingers moved in slow, practiced motions, the familiar rhythm calming the both of you. he was quiet under your touch, face buried into a pillow, muscles slowly uncoiling under your hands.

“you’re so dumb,” you said gently, a little laugh slipping out. “what were you even trying to do? show off? impress the ocean?”

luigi letting out a small groan and barely lifting his head mumbles, “was tryna ride the wave,” his words slurred with exhaustion and comfort.

you pressed your thumbs in a little deeper to the sides of his bruises, careful but firm.

“and it rode you huh?”

“mhmmm…”

you smiled, shaking your head, continuing— moving a bit lower, tracing along the edges of his blooming bruises. he let out a low whimper, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, his fingers slightly curling into the sheets.

“seriously gi,” you murmured, softer now. “you could’ve really hurt yourself.”

“m’sorry,” he breathed, voice small now. “didn’t mean to.”

you leaned down just a little, hair falling over your shoulder as you whispered near his ear. “you gotta stop being reckless. who’s gonna fix you up next time if i’m not around?”

his only answer being a quiet, needy whine— his head tilting slightly towards you.

and with you leaning over him like that, face being close and hair brushing his skin, he lifted his chin just enough to press his lips to yours. soft and tentative. you froze just for a second, then kissed him back just as gently.

you’re the first one to pull away, giving his hair a light tug. “you better behave,” you whispered, breath warm against his mouth. “or i won’t finish your massage.”

he grinned, lazy and dazed. “im behaving,” he mumbled, already slumping back into the pillow like your kiss was enough to sedate him.

you scooped up a little more oil into your palms and worked quietly for a few more minutes— slow and careful movements over the bruising, his muscles loose now.

and then, a soft murmur:

“i think my back’s good now… think you could get my shoulders?”

…

“…and maybe my chest too?”

you smirked and glanced down at him.

“whatever you want princess”

he began to turn over, shifting on his side with a groan, but as you were about to guide him onto his back—

“wait not like this.”

before you could even reply, his hands slid over your hips and in one quick motion, he brought you right into his lap.

you let out a quiet gasp, straddling him now, palms braced on his bare chest as he looked up at you— eyes dark and blown out.

“like this.” his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t say anything, just swallowed hard and nodded once. your fingers dipped back into the oil, rubbing it between your palms to warm it up before sliding your hands over his chest.

he was pretty still beneath you, save for the tiny shifts of his body. sharp inhales when your thumbs pressed into his skin, the subtle twitch of his thighs when you pressed too low.

“shit,” he breathed, voice hitching higher this time, soft and strained. “feels so good…”

your hands moved to his shoulders, thumbs circling into tight knots just beneath his neck. it was a bit of a stretch from your spot in his lap, so you leaned forward, your chest brushing against his, your breath grazing his jaw.

and then his lips found yours again, lazy and slow. he kissed you without urgency, one hand sliding to the small of your back, and the other on your thigh, trying to keep himself grounded.

you kissed him back, just as slow. before pulling away slightly, catching your breath, and going back to his shoulders as if nothing happened.

he groaned again, though not from the massage this time.

“not fair,” he muttered.

you laughed under your breath, going back to press into a particularly tight spot behind his shoulder blade.

“too bad.”

you leaned back down, lips finding his again and this time it gets heavier. his mouth opened beneath yours, teeth dragging your bottom lip between his, and his hips shifting beneath you.

he groaned into your mouth, deeper, and then—

his hips rolled up. just once. slow, instinctual, and desperate.

he sighed, lips parting as he dropped his head back into the pillow, his chest rising and falling fast under your palms.

“fuck…”

you didn’t move at first. just stayed still in his lap, enjoying the rise of fall of his chest. and then softly, you leaned in again.

you kissed the corner of his mouth— a gentle peck, then another, and another. then along his jaw. then that sensitive spot just below his ear, that always makes him shiver.

you worked your way down slowly, kissing along the edge of his throat, his collarbone, your mouth lingering all over as he tilted his head back to give you more access.

“baby…” he whispers, his voice wrecked.

his hands slide up your sides, slow and kinda unsure. when his fingers brushed the hem of your swimsuit coverup, you let your arms fall to your sides, silently giving him the permission he wanted.

he sat up slowly, groaning softly at the movement and peeled the fabric from your body in one slow motion, letting it fall somewhere in the room.

then his fingers reached the tie of your bikini top. he tugged at it gently, watching you the entire time. when you didn’t protest, he undid the knot with shaky fingers and let the top slip away.

his breath hitched.

“fuck, you’re—“

he didn’t even let himself finish before his mouth was already on you. soft kisses at first, then his lips closed around the swell of your breasts, tongue flicking, hands pressing you closer to him as you arched your back.

your quiet gasp became a whimper.

“oh…”

his groan followed instantly. he sucked a little harder, peppering warm, open mouthed kisses near your nipple.

“ you sound so pretty,” he mumbled against your skin. “don’t stop.”

then, without another word, he took your nipple into his mouth, gentle and almost hesitant at first. his tongue swirled around it, his lips closing in a tight, wet seal as he suckled, like you were his favorite lollipop.

you let out a sharp little moan, surprised by how sensitive you were and how good it felt to have him care for you as well. he groaned in return, the sound vibrating through your chest.

his hand slid up your spine, holding you steady as he moved over to your other nipple, showering it with the same attention— his tongue flicking, lips tugging just right to make you whimper again.

you threaded your fingers through his curls, breathing uneven, your thighs tightening around his hips as his mouth latched onto you. each moan that escaped your lips, pulled a groan from his— almost like he couldn’t help it, like your sounds were enough to unravel him.

your hips started to move before you even realized with small, slow rolls against his lap, the friction sending sparks between your thighs with every pass.

luigi’s breath hitched.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, thumbs brushing over your bare skin as he tried to ground himself, his eyes fluttering shut as your bodies rocked together in a lazy rhythm.

“fuck… that feels so good,” he murmured, forehead resting against your chest.

your fingers carded through his curls, your lips brushing over the top of his head, all tender and affectionate while your hips kept working him over.

but then—

a sharp inhale.

“ah- shit-“

he winced, body tensing up beneath you, and you froze instantly.

“your back?” you whispered.

he nodded, jaw clenched, and brows drawn tight.

“just moved a little weird, m’okay,” he exhaled, trying to wave it off.

you shook your head and cupped his cheek.

“nope. lay down babe. let me take care of you.”

he didn’t argue. just sank back into the pillows with a groan, arms falling to his sides like he had no fight left.

you kissed down his chest as you moved, slow and deliberate. letting your mouth explore every inch of his skin, from the curve of his pecs to the soft dips between his abs.

he was already breathing harder by the time you reached for the faint trail of hair leading down— that happy trail you admired earlier.

you licked a slow stripe down it and then another, watching him twitch slightly under you. his hips shifted again, his swimming trunks now tented and clinging low to his hips.

you hooked your fingers into the waistband, tugging them down in one smooth, letting him spring free, the weight of him softly slapping against his lower abdomen. his hissed, not from pain, but from need.

you hovered above him, eyes locked on his face as you leaned down and gave him a single, teasing kitten lick across the tip.

he groaned, loud and frustrated.

you did it again, this time even slower. and then another, barely brushing his sensitive underside.

his hips flexed, but you pulled back just in time, smiling softly.

“be patient,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his thigh.

you kept it at that— delicate little licks of your tongue that barely counted as relief. just enough to make him squirm, to make him whine, to keep him right there on the edge.

“please,” he gasped, hips twitching upwards only for you to press them down.

“please, i can’t— i need—“

but you didn’t give in. instead, your hands held his hips steady, fingers digging into his warm skin, and your tongue tracing lazy circles around his sensitive tip.

another kitten lick, then met with a breathless groan.

he was shaking now, head turned to the side, eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep his composure. his thighs tensing under your touch and his voice falling into almost incoherent whimpers.

“amore, please— im gonna—“

and then he did.

luigi’s whole body arched beneath you with a strangled moan, hips stuttering as he came hard against his stomach, all hot, messy, and sudden.

you kept going, soft and unrelenting, licking up everything he gave you with gentle care. every flick of your tongue making him twitch and sigh, oversensitive but too far gone to protest.

once you had cleaned him up, you leaned in close and pressed a tender kiss right to his tip. he let out a breathless laugh, eyes glassy and lips parted.

you smiled, resting your head just above his hips as you looked up at him, taking him in. you stayed like that for a bit, fingers tracing light circles on his thigh as he caught his breath.

his chest rose and fell in soft waves, his skin still flushed and forehead a little damp with sweat, lips parted in a dazed smile.

you leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his abdomen, another to his chest before moving upwards to curl into his side. your palms smoothed over his stomach, resting there while your nose brushed his jaw.

“how’s your back?” you whispered.

he chuckled weakly, still breathless, “honestly? im not even worried about it anymore.”

you scoffed and giggled into his neck, letting your fingers shift lower again, brushing over the curve of his hip.

then he turned his head, eyes burning behind the softness they had.

“let me return the favor,” he murmured. “please.”

your heart skipped a beat.

“luigi…”

but he was already moving. hands finding your bikini bottoms, fingers sliding against the strings at your hips as he untied them, tossing the fabric somewhere into the room.

his voice was hoarse, low and pleading.

“wanna taste you. been thinking about it since the day you made me take photos of you in that tiny bikini with your polaroid on the beach.”

you didn’t argue with that and let him guide you up his chest. letting his lips brush your skin the whole way up, until your thighs framed his face and your knees sank into the mattress on either sides of his head.

his hands gripped your hips, eyes looking up to meet yours as he exhaled, “let me take care of you too.”

he barely gave you time to settle above him before he was pulling you down hard. his grip tightening around your thighs, dragging you fully down onto his mouth, his tongue already parting you before you could even exhale.

your gasp nearly hit the ceiling, luigi wasnt soft nor gentle, he was hungry.

he moaned into you like he was starving— like just the taste of you was enough to keep him alive. his mouth moved so recklessly, tongue licking broad, wet stripes before curling into where you needed him most, lips sealing around you in a filthy, perfect kiss.

you tried to lift yourself just slightly, just enough to catch your breath but his arms locked tighter around your thighs, pinning you down against him.

“luigi—“

you barely got his name out before— crack!

his palm landed a sharp slap to your ass. not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you he was in control right now.

your whole body jolted, letting out a surprised moan as you instinctively ground yourself down harder against his mouth and started grinding. slow at first, trying to find the perfect rhythm, and then faster and messier, as he just let you ride him, his pretty nose nudging against your clit.

he sucked, licked, devoured.

“fuck baby— you’re so good.” you moaned, voice shaking as your fingers tangled themselves in his curls, tugging hard.

“you’re making me feel so fucking good— i can’t—“ and he groaned under you, the sound vibrating against your pussy, making your thighs clamp tighter around his head. and still, he didn’t let up.

just kept licking like a man possessed, grip tightening, strong hands digging into your thighs, keeping you locked in place.

your body was trembling, skin flushed, that heat ready to snap— and luigi knew it.

and right when you were teetering, mouth hung open and breath stuttering— his lips latched onto your clit.

not soft or teasing, just purely desperate.

he sucked hard, his tongue flicking mercilessly, drawing fast, tight circles that made your vision go white.

“oh—fuck—luigi!”

the loudest moan tore out of you, sharp, raw, and damn near broken as the pleasure slammed into you. your thighs crammed around him, fingers yanking on his hair, hips jerking uncontrollably as your orgasm hit with a violent force.

and he held you there, through every gasp, twitch, and tremble. sucking, licking, chasing every last drop of your cum like he couldn’t fathom letting any of it going to waste.

even as your body gave out and you tried to pull away— he didn’t let you. he stayed there, moaning into you, drunk on your release.

your body still trembling when he released the tight grip he had on you, letting your thighs relax, pressing soft, tender kisses along the inside of your legs. and when you looked down at him, he was already watching you with wide eyes, swollen lips, and cheeks tinted pink.

“c’mere,” he whispered. barely having the strength to move, but you wanted to be close, needing it. you climbed down slowly and he met you half way— sitting up, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

your chests pressed together and noses brushing as your foreheads touched, “you okay?” he murmured, stroking his thumb over your hip.

“yeah,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “are you?”

he smiled, just a little, “never been better.”

your lips met again, slow as his hands roamed your back, your thighs, and your waist— like he couldn’t get enough of you.

and as your hips instinctively shifted against him, he let out the softest groan against your mouth. you felt him, already hard and ready, pressing against your pussy.

he reached down, lining himself up carefully, and you sank down on him, both of you letting out content sighs. both stilling for a moment, getting adjusted.

and then slowly, you began to move, grinding, rocking, and meeting him half way every time he lifted his hips. his hands held your waist to anchor himself in the moment, just feeling all of you.

your name left his lips like a prayer and your moans soft and breathy as your bodies rocked against each other in perfect rhythm.

your lips brushed over his jaw as your hips rolled against his, “you feel so good,” you whispered against his skin. “So deep…”

luigi groaned, tightening his arms around you, the sound buried in your shoulder, “you’re fucking perfect, pussy’s so fucking tight.” he breathed, voice low and thick.

his hands slid from your waist down to the small of your back, guiding you gently, helping you move just right— until his cock hit that sweet spot inside you that made your body jolt.

“yeah? right there?” he asked, lips brushing the shell of ear.

you nodded, nails lightly digging into his shoulders. “yes—right there, baby.”

he adjusted his angle slightly, and then a slow, precise thrust upward, so deep. and it hit, your whole body clenching around him, and your moan came out softer, higher than before.

he pulled back just enough to get a good look at you, eyes glassy, lips swollen, and tits littered in love bites. your forehead pressed to his, your bodies meeting in such an intimate rhythm.

“you make me feel so good, so full,” you whispered, barely able to speak through the heat pooling low in your stomach.

he kissed you, harder this time and then he took over, just a little. guiding your hips with one hand while the other slid down to hold your thigh as he angled his next thrust perfectly into that soft, sensitive spot inside you.

“there we go,” he rasped, dragging his lips along your neck.

“let me take care of you, baby. let me give you everything.”

his rhythm had started to slow, a bit overwhelmed. from the way your body clung to his, from how tight, how wet, how delicious you felt wrapped around him. his head dipped to your shoulder, breath ragged against your skin, big hands grasping your hips attempting to ground himself.

but you felt ready now, your body humming with energy again—refueled by every groan, every helpless twitch of his hips, and every shaky breath that tumbled from his lips.

so you started to move. a soft bounce at first, just enough to shift the angle, taking in more of him. then another. then faster. luigi gasped, back arching slightly, eyes squeezing shut as you rode him with more control.

your lips hovered near his ear, voice warm and broken in between moans, “you’re so deep inside me, gi...” he let out the quietest whimper, hands trembling against your skin.

“so big… stretching me so good. you feel it, don’t you? how wet you make me?”

he could barely speak, just nodded. barely.

and then—click. the door handle turned.

your bodies froze, just for a second, before luigi pulled you tighter against him, shielding you, even as your hips never faltered.

“yo luigi! how you holding up man?” a familiar voice called through the narrow crack in the door. he hadn’t fully stepped inside, just peeked the door open a few inches, only being able to see the edge of the bed and maybe luigi’s bare shoulder. the rest, being you fully naked and still grinding in his lap, was completely hidden by the angle.

luigi’s eyes blew wide, his breath catching in his throat.

“you—you gotta stop,” he hissed into your neck, biting back groan. “please—“

you leaned in, brushing your mouth against his ear, voice was sweet as candy while your hips rolled again, deep and slow.

“answer him.”

“let him hear how good you’re feeling.”

luigi’s hand flew to your waist, attempting to still you, but it was no use.

“i—uh,” he choked out, voice shaking. “yeah—i’m good man, just resting.”

his friend paused, “cool, just making sure. let us know if you need anything.”

you didn’t let him get a chance to recover. the second the door clicked shut, you pushed him backwards, your palms resting on his chest as you eased him down against the bed, his eyes still wide and wrecked under you.

his head hit the pillow, curls sticking to his forehead, and his chest heaving as you straddled him fully again.

“you’ve been so good,” you whispered, voice shaking with need. “but now i need more.”

and then you started to really move. your thighs burned as you began bouncing harder, hips slapping against his with wet desperate sounds, so intense, overwhelming, and fast. luigi’s hands scrambled to hold you, his fingers digging into your waist like he might slip through the bed if he didn’t anchor himself to you.

“f-fuck baby—“ he gasped, voice breaking. “that’s—too much—“ but he didn’t stop you.

he bent his knees suddenly, feet flat on the mattress and thrusted up. hard. your whole body jolted, a choked moan spilling out of your mouth as he met your bounces with the same fervor. each thrust slammed deeper and harder, matching the way you rode him until all that could be heard was skin slapping and both of you chanting each other’s names over and over.

“yesyesyes—lu, just like that—“ you cried out as he fucked up into you like he was trying to split you open from the inside.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, eyes hazy and voice raw. “such a tight little pussy amore— so perfect, can’t even hold back anymore.”

your movements became sloppier, desperation seeping through, your bodies completely lost in each other. just full of need. just you and him, chasing that sweet finish with matching desperation.

your name tumbled from his mouth in broken gasps, sweat slicking his chest where your bodies met, the heat between you two unbearable in the most delicious way.

and then his voice cracked out, desperate and strained, “i—fuck—i should probably pull out.” but his hips never slowed, because he didn’t really mean it and you both knew it. you leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, mouth by his ear as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

“don’t,” you begged, breath heavy and hot. “i wanna feel you. want you to stay inside me.”

his groan was guttural, almost pained with how badly he had been waiting for that permission.

“fuck—fuck—“

your nails dragged down his back, your body grinding back into every one of his thrusts, and then everything shattered.

you came first, gasping, shaking, clinging to him like you wouldn’t survive without him.

“luigi—oh god baby, don’t stop—don’t—“

he followed instantly, crying out your name into your neck, hips buried to the hilt as he spilled inside you, his body trembling beneath yours as the outside world faded away.

your bodies stayed tangled for a while, skin to skin, limbs loose, and breathing slowly coming back down. the room was quiet now, except for the soft hum of the ocean breeze drifting through the balcony door.

luigi’s heartbeat thudded gently beneath your cheek as you laid against his chest your fingers tracing absentminded shapes against his ribs. eventually, he shifted beneath you, careful and slow, kissing your shoulder as he murmured, “be right back.”

he slid out from the bed with a little wince, his legs shaky and muscles drained. you watched with a sleepy smile as he padded naked across the room, grabbing a small towel from the bathroom and returning a moment later.

“here,” he whispered, eyes soft as he knelt between your legs and cleaned you up. “i got you.”

your heart fluttered.

luigi had already crawled back into bed, arms stretched behind his head, eyes half-lidded and warm as he looked at you with a soft, post-bliss smile.

you sat up slowly, reaching for the bikini top that wads left at the edge of the bed. “i should probably head back to my room,” you murmured, voice gentle. “so you can rest comfortably…”

you didn’t even get to finish your sentence when his arm reached out fast, firm as his fingers curled gently around your wrist to stop you.

“what?” he asked, brown furrowed slightly as he tugged you back down towards him.

“baby no.”

you blinked as he guided you back into his arms, your body slotting effortlessly into the space next to his.

“i wanna rest here,” he whispered, lips brushing your shoulder.

“with you.”

your heart skipped a beat as he tugged the covers up, over both your naked bodies. he nuzzled into your chest, one arm round your waist, the other lazily cupping one of your tits.

“m’tired,” he murmured. “wouldn’t be smart of you to leave your patient alone away.”

your fingers threaded into his curls, your other one rubbing up and down his spine.

“how’s your back?” you asked softly.

“feels perfect,” he mumbled, voice already dying down. “because you’re here with me.”

within seconds, his breath evened out, warm against your skin. and you were left with a sleeping, heavy luigi tangled into your bare body, like his life depended on it.

[hachiane]

ranking the LADS boys on who takes the best Instagram photos for you

a/n — just my headcanons!! may be OOC, majorly she/her reader pronouns

count : 950 words

#1 Rafayel Qi

— takes one look at your inspo photos and scoffs, “puh-leaase, i can do better than that.”. under his calm exterior, his painter's eye is roaring to life, the gears in his brain immediately turning when your phone is passed into his hands.

Rafayel matches your freak instantly and pretends he is like every photograph boyfriend every it-girl online seems to have; he's guiding you to pose, where to place your hands, tilt your face so he captures all your best angles, even the ones you didn't think you had. your personal hypeman as he snaps away, "yesss, cutie! you look so good!' "kill me with those sexy eyes of yours!" "makeup on point! show off your pretty lashes!"

it doesn't end there. Rafayel is also looking over your shoulder helping you choose the best shots, giving his small comments and suggestions as you edit them in your phone, things like "up the contrast, the shadows are dark in this one" or "why are you cropping like that? this makes you look taller".

after your impromptu photoshoot, he sings praises about you being the most beautiful muse, the cutest bodyguard. and of course, you have to take some couple selfies with him too as reward for his hard work.

Rafayel is your first like, first comment when you post, bombarding your notifications with comments. “that’s my bodyguard right there 😍” “you’re sooooooo hot 🔥🔥” “slay queen 💅🏼✨”

he'll do everything again, no doubt about it.

#2 Xavier Shen

— when you asked him the first time, he was hesitant. he says he read a book about it but never put it to practice, warning you that you might be disappointed. you shove your phone into his hands and that you're fine with whatever he gets in the end. (unintentionally that awakens his inner prince, determined to ensure his princess look her best in every frame)

the entire time, Xavier says nothing. you hear him snap away and hum to himself, but he's not saying anything to you; doesn't tell you how to pose, where to place your hands or if you should be looking at him. so most of the time, you’re by yourself testing out the poses you saw online and placing your blind, full-hearted trust that he gets the picture you imagined. 

the thing is, while poses look good on you, Xavier behind the camera much prefers your candid moments, because these says much more about you than poses other people have thought of. you in your natural state is the most beautiful to him, and he says so, “i only take pictures of pretty things and you like this is the most pretty to me”.

later, being the old soul he is, he purchases a polaroid printer to get physical copies of your photos and stashes them away in a journal or box, for these memories of you deserve to last lifetimes.

#3 Sylus Qin

— his pictures of you are decent enough. when you asked him the first time, he says he’ll get you a personal photographer if you so desire good photos, but your cutesy pleading and debating your point about the sentimental value of photos taken by him makes him give in. he follows your inspo photos to the T, but because of his height, you notice the angles are slightly higher than what they should be. like Xavier, he doesn't tell you how to pose; he just taps away on the shutter button as he moves around you here and there, occasionally hunching down for a low angle shot, with his other hand in his pocket, nonchalant as Sylus usually is.

accidentally left the live photo feature on for most of your photos, and while perturbed at first, those become his favourites; he gets to see a glimpse of your genuine smile at his ministrations before your expressions snap into a smouldering, radiant look that he would fall to his knees for time and time again. he sends the photos to himself afterwards without asking, shrugging when you question him about it when he was being so indifferent at first, “sentimental value, kitten”.

#4 Zayne Li

— unfortunately, Zayne takes photos like an aged father with two daughters; straight on, no angles, no direction, not much effort given the first few times. but after seeing your slightly disappointed look as you review the photos, even when you reassure him you're okay with them, he knows he’d done you wrong.

the next day, Zayne promptly asks his female colleagues and acquaintances with a photography hobby at the hospital for some tips and crash courses. of course they oblige him (because who could say no to the Dr Zayne when he asks for a favour?) with simple go-tos and the tricks. and Zayne being Zayne, he notes them all down in his personal notebook, studies it in his downtime, brings it home to read and practice on some "subjects" lying around the house: your collectible figures, the fresh bouquet for the living room, and so forth.

the next time the opportunity comes up, he breaks it to you he's been studying for this exact moment and asks if you would give him another attempt. although the photos end up not what you expected when he said he's been "learning", it's miles better than the first few times. Zayne would look at you expectantly for your reaction, and he heaves a sigh of assured relief when you compliment his improvement. when you post the recent photo he took of you, he cracks the widest smile he's had all week, liking and saving the photo to make it his phone background (though you've probably already sent it to him).

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

istg i check your blog religiously 😭 can i request ghost x reader that is rlly insecure of how she looks and bc shes so shy, so she never expected to be in a relationship bc she doesn't believe she ever rlly deserved that, and thinks that ghost will leave her eventually, so when he finds out he comforts her. so like angst to fluff

—Nervous Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

You sit at the bar and turn around your glass of Bourbon, the amber liquid sitting at the bottom as you blink at your reflection with slow eyes. It was late, but you were far from drunk—not even a light buzz was addling your brain with honied thoughts or actions. No, there would be none of that tonight. 

Not when the woman was still hanging off Simon’s arm like a bad rash. 

She was pretty, you admitted; beautiful, even. A sort of natural confidence and the looks to pair—ones that most people would go under a knife for without a second thought. Swallowing down saliva and not the alcohol, you tighten your lips and shove down the feeling in your throat. You shouldn’t be acting like this; you had no reason to. 

There was no doubt in Simon’s loyalty or intentions, but your insecurities still lingered. He’d tried to shove the lady off of him as soon as she’d showed up—growling a ‘piss off’ and a flash of his dark brown gaze. Anyone without a death wish would have darted away immediately; maybe fled the country to be safe. She’d instead taken up the seat next to him and was talking up a storm as his fingers tightened over the tabletop. 

Breathing out slowly, you try not to look at her, generally placid nature a large factor in your hesitation to come out to this place at all. 

Simon was…a lot, you knew. 

Big, scary; all around intimidating with his balaclava, hoodie, and jacket atop. Black gloves—he screamed serial killer except for the fact of his dog tags that clinked with every swivel of his head to you. 

But the allure to his character was what charmed a lot of people, especially in bars when the drinks started to do the talking.

Sometimes you wonder if it was only a matter of time before he found someone better. Better suited to his… demeanor.

Simon’s fingers tapped the table twice to try and get your attention, side-eyeing you with a blank expression of annoyance at the lady’s constant prattle in his ear. 

The woman loudly continues to talk about her ex-husband not a foot away from his face, trying to get into his pants unabashedly. Rage simmers deeply in his chest, but he won’t cause a scene—he can’t leave either. Not without you, and right now, you’re not even glancing at him. 

When you don’t look up at his tapping, a strange emotion sitting on your normally smiling and bright flesh, Simon goes stiff. His shoulders tighten as he stares; attention entirely on you at all times. He sees your sigh, your intentful staring at your reflection with the occasional darting to the woman’s pristine features. 

It puts something into immediate focus, and the Brit’s eyes go to slits. 

Just as you decide it would be better for you to be drunk, staring to bring your glass to your lips, Simon snaps out at your side.

“Bloody slag,” the bar pauses at the monotone but subsequently harsh words yet quickly picks back up again. “Would you fuckin’ shut your mouth? Bastard’s runnin’ more than your damn husband did.” You choke on your drink, pulling back to cough into your arm violently with a sputtering inhale.

While you catch your breath, wide-eyed staring from over your elbow, the woman gapes and blinks like a deer that had been shot through the ribcage; gasping out stuttered questions.

Simon, in a wave of deep anger, takes out his wallet and slams bills to the bartop, sliding off his stool before gliding past you—taking the meat of your arm and pulling you along. Gently, only the slightest pressure to make sure you don’t stumble as your feet meet the floor. 

In your stupor, you follow after quickly, allowing him to drop his grip. 

“S-Simon, what are you—?” When you’re outside, you’re instantaneously corralled down the side of the bar, latched onto, and lifted easily so you’re over one of the man’s shoulders. You yelp, your face burning like fire as your voice goes high-pitched. “Simon!” 

“Seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at yourself,” He grunts out, gritting his teeth as your hands dig into his spine for stability. But he knew just the right amount of force to keep you from falling. “What…? You think I’d give that old broad a good shag? Throw away the prize that I’ve got right in front of me?” 

A harsh scoff echoes out, and seconds later you’re plopped down onto the top of a stack of pallets, hands slapping beside your hips and a clothed face millimeters from your own. You suck in a gasp and stare, entranced by how the lights burst inside of Simon’s pupils as he towers over you, a wall of muscle and will.

“I-I didn’t…I don’t,” you stutter, mouth opening and closing. “I’m not…”

His eyes narrow, scrutinizing you down to your marrow. “Not what, then? Say it.”

There’s no getting out of this.

“Simon,” you see his lips thin through his mask and you sigh, looking away instantly from the shame that courses your bloodstream. To force the words out was a physical pain to you, a dent in your lifespan. Your skin burns and the sting of embarrassment comes into your eyes. 

“I’m not…pretty…” The man stills to near stone, eyes twitching a centimeter wider before they, too, halt all movement. “You shouldn’t have to be bothered every time someone better looking comes over because they don’t realize you’re seeing me—because they’d never think we’d be together. I…I don’t want you to think you’re weighed down by a…a…” 

You lose your train of thought, and the only word coming to mind is a sharp knife to your chest. You glare at this chest, at his tags as they swing, and clench your jaw, taking down shallow breaths from your nostrils. 

Simon utters the very word you dread in a tiny voice, accent deep, “...burden.” 

All you do is shakily nod as the minutes roll past—the shadows grow longer and the night colder. Simon stares and stares, chest pounding with a fast heart and a tight wind of bulk. 

His hands at your hips tighten into fists, grunting, “That’s the worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ‘ad to hear in ages.”

You blink away your unshed tears, darting your vision back up before a hand connects with your jaw and angles it up, balaclava shifted to his nose bridge as Simon pressed his lips to yours in a breath-stealing kiss. Opening your legs, he drags you forward by the small of your back and presses you to him with a growl, hearing your small mewl in answer. 

His grip is firm and all-consuming, as it always is, and his mouth gives the tinge of alcohol and conviction. Hand on the back of your skill, you shudder and sink into him as he presses deeply, dragging each other back and forth with gasps and smacking flesh. Your hands grasp at Simon’s shirt, trailing his abs as he moves back with a grunt and a lick at his red lips.

Saliva gets caught in the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m not leavin’ you unless I get my head blown to bloody bits,” he frowns, dead eyes darting up and down your blown eyes and panting breath. A flicker of a smirk dashes his expression. “So forget about it, Love.” 

Simon’s gaze flashes with a soft reassurance, humming under his breath before he leans in once more. 

“No one tastes like you do,” you drag him back into you as he mutters on your eager lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[moonstruckme]

i love poly! Marauders♡

could you make a one shot where the reader gives the boys flowers and handmade gifts for the first time after their first month of relationship?

xoxo

Ugh yes our boys don't get enough gifts! Thanks for requesting gorgeous :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

When Sirius answers the door to the apartment he shares with his boyfriends to find you standing there with a bouquet of flowers, he very nearly panics. Naturally, his first thought is of the worst-case scenario: someone else has gotten you flowers, and you’ve decided to break it off with them and be with that fucker. Alternatively, you’re upset that they haven’t gotten you flowers in nearly a week (would those ones have died already? Sirius knows next to nothing about flowers; Remus is supposed to stay on top of that) and have brought an arrangement for them to give you as a not-so-gentle-nudge. He might be sick.

But you’re not deserving of the snappy response that comes to his lips, so Sirius swallows and tries to find his gentlest voice. “Hey there, gorgeous. What’re those for?”

You grin until your cheeks dimple, flushing in the way Sirius has grown familiar with over the past few weeks: you’re excited, but a bit embarrassed to show it. “Happy one-month anniversary,” you say, extending the bouquet to him as James and Remus come into the room behind him, intrigued by what’s keeping their boyfriend so long at the door. Your eyes dart between the three of them in that nervous way of yours as you explain in a rush, “I know it’s silly, but I’ve just been wanting to give you all gifts for a while now, and no one’s birthday is coming up for months.”

“Thanks, dove.” Remus is the first of them to reply, nudging past Sirius to take the flowers from you. James is grinning so hugely it’s pushing his eyes nearly closed, and Sirius suspects he’s staring at you like you’ve hung the moon. “These are beautiful. It’s a month today, really?”

You nod bashfully. 

“Then shit,” Sirius says, collecting himself, “you’re not silly; we’re ridiculous for forgetting! Come on in, sweet thing.” He grins at you, and when you shy, as you are wont to do, at his brash manner, James takes your hand and encourages you through the doorway. “Do we have some wine or chocolate or something?”

“We do,” Remus replies, disappearing into the kitchen. “And grapes. Are you alright with white wine, dovey?” You hum in affirmation, and Sirius thanks Merlin for his refined boyfriend, without whom he and James would stock the apartment entirely with crisps and pot noodles. 

James takes you to the living room, sitting you beside him, probably not as close as he’d like but wary of making you jumpy. Sirius isn’t so cautious, plopping down next to you so that your legs and hips are squished together simply because he delights in making you flush. 

“Leave off ‘er,” James says defensively, and Remus returns, laying the snacks and refreshments on the table before sitting beside Sirius and encouraging him to lean on his shoulder. Sirius huffs in protest, but goes willingly. 

His problem taken care of, James turns his attention back to you. “Thanks for the flowers, sweetheart,” he says, and Sirius notices that Remus must have found a vase for them while he was in the kitchen. They’re sitting in the center of the coffee table, arranged prettily in water. “You didn’t need to get us a gift, but that’s so lovely of you.” 

You bite your lip, and Sirius knows you have something to say before you say it. “I, um…” you play with your fingers. He wants to take them in his hands, spreading each one between his own. “I’m really glad you like them, but those actually aren’t the gifts I was talking about.” 

Sirius watches as James’ expression turns giddy at the plural there. Gifts. 

You reach into your bag and pull out a pair of gloves. They’re gray, and they look thick, like they’re made out of some sort of knit material. They’re also huge. You extend them to Remus. “I know you can never find ones that fit,” you say hesitantly, “so I’m hoping these might work? I couldn’t measure to get it exactly right, but I think they’re big enough.” 

Remus takes them with something akin to awe in his expression, and Sirius’ mouth goes dry as realization dawns upon him. He’d always thought Remus cut the fingers off his gloves because it looked cool (admittedly, there had been several years when Sirius had copied him for that very reason), but it was because they didn’t fit. His lengthy, slender fingers had to be too long for most gloves. Sirius felt stupid for not realizing it. He glances at James, finding a similar expression of dumbfounded epiphany on his boyfriend’s face. They’d both known Remus for years, and you’d picked up on his plight over the course of a month.

“Did you make these?” Remus breathes, taking the gloves from you gingerly. 

“Mhm,” you nod, proud and sheepish at the same time. “I crocheted them.”

“You…they’re perfect. Thank you, dove.” Remus looks the softest Sirius thinks he’s ever seen him, and he feels like someone’s scooped out his guts and replaced them with syrup. 

“No problem.” Your cheeks dimple as you duck your head, digging through your bag again. This time you emerge with something red, also crocheted, and vaguely rectangular, turning to James.

He looks at you adoringly as he takes it, but it’s clear he’s as clueless about what it is as Sirius feels. 

“It’s a glasses case,” you supply. “I don’t know if you even want one, but you’re always breaking them by knocking them off the nightstand, and I thought maybe it’d help.” You shrink a bit. “Don’t worry about it if you don’t want to use it.” 

“‘Course I’m using it.” James sounds appalled, and he takes your hand in his, squeezing gently until your smile returns. “This is so thoughtful of you, angel. Really, thanks so much. I’m going to use it every night.” 

You grin hugely, all but glowing at his praise, and when you turn back to your bag, and Sirius is almost surprised there’s still one left for him. As if sitting here, basking in the happiness of all the people he cares about most, isn't enough of a gift. 

Still, that doesn’t mean he’s not curious what it is. 

You pass him a small pouch, and you’ve made it purple with a black star in the middle. Sirius loves it without knowing what it’s for. Hell, he doesn’t even care if it has a utility, he wants to frame it on his wall. 

“I know you drop your earbuds a lot,” you say, “so I thought maybe you could put them in here sometimes, to protect them. I put little loops on it in case you want to carry it or attach it to something, but you could just keep it in your pocket, if you want.” 

Sirius takes his earbuds out from his pocket, slipping them into the little case, and they fit perfectly inside. He grins at you, and when you smile back, the corners of your eyes crinkling, his restraint snaps. He lunges for you, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and cradling your head with the other hand. His heart aches, and it's as much for the thoughtfulness and care you put into his own gift as it is for the joy you’ve given to Remus and James. He doesn’t think his heart can handle carrying around this much love. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair, and your arms come around his middle, squeezing tight. 

He takes his time in releasing you, but when he does you’re immediately captured by James, who kisses the side of your face haphazardly. Remus has gone mute beside him, but Sirius suspects both boys are feeling overcome by the same desperation to express their appreciation as he is. He doesn’t think they’ll ever get close. 

“Fucking one-month anniversary,” he says, and he sounds breathless even to his own ears. “I hope you’ve kept the night free, gorgeous, because now you have to let us take you out to dinner.”

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hello friend! I'm in love with your writing!!! 😍😍😍😍😍

Idk if your requests are still open but I'd like to request something if you don't mind!

I LOVED the hurt/comfort/whump fic you did for Hunter. Could you possibly do something like that for Tech x Reader?

Maybe Tech and the reader are on a mission together or maybe they've crash landed somewhere or something. The reader is badly hurt and Tech has to take care of her and treat her wounds and save her and comfort her in his own special Tech way 😂😍

Oh @arctrooper69 what can I say? I mean ... I think a thank you is just not enough. You have made my day with this request, so I took my time to give it the proper respect it deserves. I hope you like it. If it wasn't exactly what you were looking for I do apologize.

Please note that you are always welcome to send in requests. As this is a special request, it will be stored in my One Shots & Mini Series Master List.

The story got a little away from at 1400+ words, but I hope it's close to what you wanted.

And who doesn't love Tech. I love this adorable nerdy man.

Love oo,

His Promise

Warnings: Snow, injury, blood, explosions, crash, grief, fear, anxiety, hurt, fluff, near death, feelings of being a burden, getting in the way, I think that's it. If I miss any, please let me know.

Please note the explanation of Snow, Tech gives, was taken from the National Snow and Ice Data Centre.

AO3 Link   |   OS & MS Master List |   Main Master List  

The wind was picking up, as the snow piled down and was doing everything in its power to keep you and Tech from being rescued. You looked at the snow as it came down in sheets outside the entrance of the cavern he found, mesmerized by its beauty. 

“It’s beautiful and so calming …” you said slowly, your body already weakened from your injury and loss of blood.

“What are you talking about?” Tech did his best not to let the slowness of your breathing or even the breathless way you were speaking affect him. His anxiety was already high, and his fear of losing you was nearing his breaking point. 

“The snow…” you kept watching the soft flakes float down as they gently landed on the ground, piling on top of one another, almost as though they were unable to survive without the comfort of those around them. 

Tech glanced up to see the blizzard which prevented you both from leaving. As he watched the speed of the wind, he calculated it would’ve been nearly impossible for Hunter to bring the ship close to them. As he looked at the used bandages already soaked through with your blood his fear only grew. You needed immediate medical attention, more than he could provide at the moment, or it would mean certain death for you to be out here any longer.

Frankly, he couldn’t stop picturing the way you lunged forward as the ship crashed. He was helpless to watch you, as your body fell forward against the console, as a piece of the console broke off and jabbed you in your abdomen. It all happened too fast and somehow in slow motion. He could still hear your scream piercing his ear as he pulled you off the console.

He tried to stop the bleeding right away, however when he went to look for the med kit, he realized only too late that it had fallen out of the shuttle when the engine and the side compartment blew. All he had left were his emergency bandages and gauze and they weren’t nearly enough. 

At that moment, he couldn’t care less about how beautiful the snow was or how calming the blizzard looked from inside a cavern, that he only had to find because that piece of osik shuttle decided to have a fuel leak, catching on fire. 

Within seconds he had needed to drag you out of the relatively warm and safe shelter you both had, grabbing what supplies he could before the ship blew up. Thankfully, he had been able to send a message to Hunter when the shuttle crashed initially. So it was only a matter of time before the Marauder showed up, but …

His eyes fell back to the bundle of used gauze, his anxiety climbing as he knew you needed more first aid than he could provide at the moment. You needed the Marauder, you needed his med kit that he carefully stocked and kept safe on board the Marauder. At this point in time, he didn’t care about any kriffing snow.

“Snow is an accumulation of packed ice crystals. The condition of the packed crystals determines a variety of attributes, such as colour, temperature and water equivalent. As weather conditions change, the packed ice crystals can change as well, and this affects the characteristics of snow.”

You chuckled at his ability to pull forth information like it was nothing. Unfortunately the chuckle turned to coughing. Only causing you to dribble more blood out of your mouth, you wiped away what you could. He didn’t need to see that, “Tech …” you coughed again, “turn off your brain for two seconds, don’t think and just look. Just watch.”

He pulled the heater closer towards you, “Stop talking and try and warm up.”

“Tech…” you held his hand, “just look.”

His eyes drifted up your body, till he locked eyes with you. They were pleading for him to listen and to just have him appreciate what you found mesmerizing. He tried to follow your advice, focusing on the snow, but all his mind kept drifting back to was this blizzard that was preventing you from getting the medical attention you needed, so desperately. 

He shook his head focusing back on your abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. Trying his best to keep you with him. 

“Tech,” you gripped his wrist “… stop …”

“No.”

His tone was firm and full of anger, why did he agree to let you come with him? If he used his brain instead of allowing his feelings for you to dictate his actions, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Why did you always insist on following him? Why didn’t you just stay behind on Pabu? Simply because you wanted to see the galaxy, and he was excited to show it to you? It was his fault you were here. It was his fault you were in danger. It was his fault he … was going to lose you.

“Tech …” you squeezed his wrist. He removed your hand from his wrist, placing it off to the side as he focused on your wound. He didn’t deserve your touch, he didn’t deserve to have you comfort him. It was his fault you both crashed on this force forsaken planet. 

There was nothing you could do as you watched Tech pull away. 

From the moment you met him on Pabu, the way he worked with Phee as he helped rescue the villagers when the rogue wave was rushing towards the island, and the way he helped make everything more ‘efficient,’ you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. You wanted to learn from him, to listen to him go on with regards to anything and everything. Only problem was you never had the courage to actually utter the words you were dying to. Phee told you time and time again, ‘later’ was never a guarantee, and now as you lay on the cold floor of the cavern you were in, bleeding out of your abdomen, you realized how little time there was left. 

  Tears welled up in your eyes, as you realized you needed to unburden yourself. You needed to tell him what had been pressing on your heart before you didn’t have the strength to, it didn’t help that you were feeling weaker with each passing second. Also didn’t help that you could tell he was angry, actually a more accurate description would be infuriated, more than likely at you.

“I’m sorry.” You offered the only apology you could. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden, even now.” You took in a shuddering breath as Tech stopped moving his hands for two seconds as he focused on your face. “I’m sorry for always pestering you to teach me,” you offered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for not listening,” a tear slid down your cheek, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. To have to feel responsible for someone like me.” 

He shook his head, his teeth clenched as his anger, grief, fear, and sadness overwhelmed him completely in that moment. He pulled off his helmet and placed it beside him. 

“Stop.” It was his only command.

“Please, I …” you coughed again, trying to not cough on him. “I just want … I need to …”

He cut off your speech as his hand cupped your cheek, “Cyar’ika …” tears welled up in his eyes, “you were … are never a burden.” He couldn’t believe that’s what you thought of him… that’s what you believed he felt for you. He shook his head again as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I have loved every second we have spent together. I made a point to record every moment with you, because they were more precious to me than breathing.”

You held on to his bicep, keeping him close as tears streamed down your cheek, “Tech … I … I don’t want to go… I want … I want to stay here with you…”

“You’re not going anywhere. I just got you …” his tears landed on your cheeks, mixing with your own, “you’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Hold me… please… just hold me until…I can’t feel your arms anymore.”

“I’ll hold you longer than that,” Tech pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he felt your body grow weaker. Your eyes were closed, your body was growing pale. He was so focused on you, he didn’t hear the voices calling out to him, at least not until he felt Hunter’s hand on his shoulder. He didn’t wait, there were no more seconds to lose. He rushed towards the Marauder with you in his arms, he wasn’t going to lose you. He promised. He was going to bring you back.

AO3 Link   |   OS & MS Master List |   Main Master List 

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[e-spexially]

cowboy like me

pairing: billy the kid x lucy gray baird

summary: "sure would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances."

ib: these two edits by @lg.baird and @beatrixsfx on tiktok

note: this is purely self-indulgent, I saw these and felt SO angsty and inspired :(

The saloon was nicer than most that Billy had entered in the past. Smoke danced in the air and the room was dimly lit by the oil lamps placed on each table, giving the entire room a dreamy haze.

They even had live music. Not the kind where drunk men played the piano or gave some warbled rendition of an old folk tune, either. No, up on stage was a band. Two young women and two young men, playing instruments that appeared well cared for. The one singing looked to be the youngest of the bunch, blonde and fresh with her vocals.

It was a fast-paced melody and the already tipsy men and women of the saloon were on their feet in the small clearing between the tables that served as a dancefloor.

Billy walked up to the bar and bought himself a drink, trying to blend into the crowd. The music was a breath of fresh air from the constant drone of the outdoors he had been spending his time in lately. Being on the run was tiring and it was nice to finally sit in a real chair, surrounded by other people.

As he hunched over his drink, considering a game of poker, the song ended with a wave of applause, and the blonde girl spoke out to the crowd.

"Alright, y'all! For this next number, help me give a big, warm welcome to my cousin, Lucy Gray Baird!"

The blonde's energy was infectious and her request drew more applause from the crowd, even Billy. He supposed the group must have been well known, but he was out of the loop these days.

Then something unexpected happened. Onstage, walked one of the prettiest girls Billy had ever laid eyes on. Lucy Gray Baird was a dark-haired beauty, with a sweet smile and an air of confidence. His attention was hers without the girl even having to try. But then again, so was everyone else's. More applause rang out as she shot the crowd a smile, delicately cradling her shining, black guitar.

"Evenin', everyone!" She said to them in a melodic voice. "I hope y'all are enjoyin' the night so far. For this song, I'm gonna slow things down a bit and give everyone the chance to hold that special someone a little bit closer."

Billy felt the need to sit up straighter, to show that he was giving her performance the respect it deserved. And it truly did.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

As rough as a briar,

Like walking through fire

As Lucy Gray sang, he realized his father had been wrong before. The stars weren't a reflection of his own light, but hers. He'd spent countless hours staring at the night sky and he'd never met anyone that made him feel the way that view did. Not until tonight.

People were dancing, just as she had hoped. They held each other and swayed to the simple tune. She watched them proudly with a bright smile, as though her intention was merely to create the noise that seemed to move them, not be their sole focus. But he just couldn't help focusing on her, he couldn't look away. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary

It's why I need you

You're as pure as the driven snow

That's when they locked gazes with each other and the haze of the room matched the one he was feeling. Lucy Gray smiled a little wider when this happened and something inside him wondered if she knew what he was feeling. Did she? Or, better yet, did she feel it too?

The song continued and then ended, too quickly. She sang two more, their eyes meeting again and again. His drink was gone, the poker game long forgotten as well. Once her set reached its close, she immersed herself in the crowd with another young woman, the others onstage keeping the atmosphere going. Billy watched Lucy Gray being praised by many for her songs and smiled to himself.

She really deserved it. His leg bounced anxiously and the air felt electric, like something was fixing to happen. He knew what Jesse would say if he was here.

"Better make your move now, kid. 'Fore someone beats you to it."

Billy inhaled sharply, trying to give himself a boost of confidence. He suddenly felt thankful that he decided to wash before leaving the rooming house that night. Giving the bar a quick tap, he rose to his feet and made his way through the crowd to her.

She was in the middle of speaking to the women about her dress when he walked up, excusing himself and hoping she didn't find him rude for interrupting.

"Good evening." He held his hat against his chest. Lucy Gray stared up at him with a curious glimmer in her eye, catching sight of the pistol around his waist momentarily. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could buy you a drink?"

She looked pleasantly sheepish. Exchanging a quick word with the other women, she nodded.

"I don't see why not."

He breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for her to go first, setting his hat back atop his head. He didn't have much money left, but spending it on her felt like the right choice.

Purchasing two whiskeys, he handed her one and watched as she perched on the stool.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," she spoke, taking a sip.

"Right," said the man, wiping his hand on his pants before extending it, as if he were afraid to get her dirty. "I'm Billy."

Lucy Gray smiled and shook his hand. It sent a jolt right through him and he averted his eyes for a moment. She stared at him thoughtfully, resting the whiskey glass against her shoulder.

"Are you enjoyin' the show, Billy?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "I liked that first song of yours, the one about the snow."

She looked pleased by this and he could tell she liked speaking about her music.

"Really? I'm glad to hear it!" Sipping her whiskey, she had an excited, almost nostalgic look in her eye. "I wrote that one a few months back when we were still up north. It snowed all the time up there and it just got me to feelin' inspired."

Billy leaned against the bar, taking in the smokiness of her voice. He could listen to her talk forever.

"Up north? You travel a lot?"

Lucy Gray nodded.

"Us Covey travel wherever the fancy takes us," she said. "We spent a good while doin' shows to keep ourselves fed and moved around until we needed more money. Then this fella named Jones picked us up somewhere in Sacramento and said he'd help us get our very own tour through the lower United States."

Moving from state to state by choice was a luxury he couldn't fathom. Ever since he was a boy, moving had been about survival. Billy thought he'd like to live a life like Lucy Gray's, to see the world of his own accord and not because he was running from something. He finished off his whiskey.

"That sounds nice, just bein' free," he mused, mainly to himself. This earned a head tilt from her and her mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I figured cowboys were as free as they come." That made him laugh and he set the glass down.

"I'm no cowboy."

"Well, you sure look the part," joked Lucy Gray. She looked around the saloon at the crowd and then her eyes found the dancefloor. "Hey, how 'bout a dance?"

Billy looked over his shoulder at the patrons slow dancing, feeling a bit more bold on account of the drinks he'd had. He glanced back at her and held out his hand.

"I don't see why not."

She drank the last of her whiskey before letting him lead her out onto the floor. He pulled her a bit closer, his hand finding her waist and hers his shoulder. Something about her demanded to be seen, to be admired. He might not have been the smartest when it came to women, but he knew from the start that she had all the control. What's more, he wasn't even sure it was intentional, but he knew he liked it.

As they danced, she studied his face a bit more.

"You're that outlaw, aren't you?" Billy felt his face flush and looked around for a moment before she laughed. "Don't worry, I wouldn't say anythin'. Not before I heard your story, anyways."

"My story?"

"Sure, everyone's got one." He pondered this for a moment, giving her a shrug.

"S'not exactly the kind people like to hear," he admitted. "It's got lots of sad bits."

"Well, those kinds of stories make the best songs." Lucy Gray looked up at him through her eyelashes. He wondered what his life would sound like through her pen, if she'd be able to take something dark like that and make it beautiful.

Maybe he'd tell her another time. He hoped there would be another time.

"I'll tell it to you someday." It felt like a promise, mainly to himself, that he'd see her again.

"I hope you will." She seemed content to let it rest at that for now. "Those posters don't do you justice, y'know? You're much more handsome up close."

A soft blush appeared on his face and he laughed it off.

"I'm sorry you had to see those, they're not exactly a likeness."

"You're right," she said gently. "I expected someone much scarier, the way people talk about you."

Billy's heart sank a bit at that. He hoped she hadn't heard anything too bad and if it was the truth being passed around, he only hoped she wouldn't judge him for it.

"I hope you'll give me a chance to prove that m'not so scary."

"Don't worry, gorgeous, I don't scare easily." He chuckled and she leaned in a bit. "This is the part where you spin me."

"Yes ma'am," the man drawled, obliging by holding onto her fingertips and twirling her around. Lucy Gray moved gracefully and she gave off the scent of fresh linen with a hint of wildflowers. He imagined her traveling through a field of them somewhere, carrying her guitar in one hand and a suitcase of all her belongings in the other.

What did she take with her? Were there pictures, family heirlooms she held dear enough to carry on her travels? Billy thought back to his mother's gold ring that rested in his pack back in the room he was renting. Did Lucy Gray have anything that precious to her?

She giggled as she spun back into him, bringing that field of flowers right with her. He maneuvered her around into a smooth circle around him before wrapping an arm around her torso.

"You're not bad on the dancefloor for an outlaw!" She said.

"All that time on the run, you get good on your feet," he joked. He savored the laughter that left her chest. It felt genuine and warm, just like her.

The song ended and she went to hold his hands in her own, smiling up at him as the crowd began thinning, the blonde on stage announced that the band would be heading out for the night.

"Thank you for this, Billy," beamed Lucy Gray. "It's just been wonderful."

He nodded earnestly, hoping he had made an impression.

"No, thank you. I can't remember the last time I had a drink and a dance with a nice girl, especially one as pretty as you." Her eyes sparkled at that, almost like she didn't want it to end. He knew he didn't. "Could I walk you out?"

She agreed and they returned to the stage to retrieve Lucy Gray's guitar, along with the bottles of whiskey given by the owner for their work. Then they headed out behind the saloon with the rest of the band, the others buzzing in excitement about the energy of the audience.

"These Texans sure do like their dancing. And their bars!"

"I'll say, you see that man spinnin' his wife around? I thought they were both liable to topple over the way he was drinking!

They were walking in the direction of a small cabin that resided some yards away from the building, a lamp left on the dirt by the front step. It looked cozier than the rooming house for sure.

Billy stopped just as the band piled into the cabin, leaving the door open for Lucy Gray. He could hear the chatter continue from inside.

"Will I see you again? I'd sure like to hear another one of your songs."

"You might see me around. If you're on the run like you say you are, we'll cross paths again."

He hoped so. God, did he hope so.

"You have a lovely voice, my mother would have liked to hear you sing." Lucy Gray sensed the twinge of sadness in the tone and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"They're never far, the ones we love." She studied him for a moment before plucking the striped feather from her dark curls and holding it out to him. "Here, take this. Add some life into that hat of yours."

He huffed in amusement at the feather but took it and tucked it into the band of his old hat.

"How do I look?"

"Like a cowboy." Lucy Gray nodded approvingly. "I hope you could return it to me someday soon?"

"Oh, you bet."

"Good," she said. "You still owe me that story, William H. Bonney."

McCarty, Billy wanted to tell her. His name was McCarty.

"And then you still owe me a song," he replied lightly, deciding against it. Lucy Gray nodded, looking wistful.

"You got yourself a deal." She held her hand out to him and they stayed there for a moment, hands joined. Could he say goodbye? Did he even have a choice? Lucy Gray was free and he wasn't. Sure, he could have joined her on her travels, but no good came with moving alongside an outlaw.

No, none of that. For tonight, he'd let her go and pray that fate would bring them together again.

"Good night, Lucy Gray." He spoke first. She smiled up at him and gave his hand a single shake.

"Good night, Billy."

After that, he watched her walk into the cabin and shut the door, but not before giving him a final wink. Once she was out of sight, he let out a deep sigh. It felt like he'd just woken up from a dream, the good kind that you hope you have again.

Feeling his boldness leaving him and the night's activities taking their toll, he turned on his heel and started for the rooming house, humming Lucy Gray's song all the while.

[tetsunabouquet]

Sevika On The Inside - Arcane Headcanons

A/N: Just so the Arcane fandom has a general understanding of how I personally write headcanons, I usually pick a theme that I want to explore with that character and then I just start rolling. So if you want to see different themes with Sevika explored or you really like my style & want to see this or that character be tackled next: Feel free to send me a request! You can do so anonymously if you're a little shy .

-The mental strength of this woman is as great as her punches. The way she talked with Vander in S1 hints she likely worked with Vander and Silco during the rebellion that killed Jinx & Vi's parents. Then there was the years of cleaning up after Silco and dealing with Jinx. So she's spent over a decade fighting for Zaun's best interest without ever compromising on what she believes in or losing hope. Someone weak willed couldn't have dealt with all of that. -She has a much more beautiful heart then she lets on. She cares for her people deeply and wouldn't leave anyone behind. The fact she wouldn't turn in Jinx and was so quick to dismiss the idea, just shows she cares for every Zaunite in her own way, even if they occasionally make her blood boil. Plus, there was the way she's always willing to set her personal issues with Jinx aside to give her advice and comfort, wether directly like she did with S2 or indirectly through Silco in S1. -With Sevika speaking in past tense about her father, it's clear that he's dead. I don't think it is unfair to assume he died due to circumstances related to Piltover's oppression of Zaun. -This is also what inspired her soft spot for Jinx that Sevika pretends doesn't exist. She wanted to help Silco with her, precisely because of the reality Zaun is currently under. Families get ripped apart and Sevika does know that their bond is likely going to end in bloodshed yet again. So she doesn't wants them to be on bad terms by the time that happens and be filled with guilt and regret like she experiences from time to time. -This is the other reason aside from her being too pre-occupied already that she won't have children or even a regular romantic relationship. Because she knows it's going to end badly and it would be nothing but a distraction that would leave her traumatized. So she visits Miguel instead. -Miguel knows quite a lot of what's going on inside of Sevikas heart, but she never reveals too much as she's not so stupid to give him that kind of power over her. -Whilst no one from Zaun wants to follow her, the ones up in the Zaun food chain who know Sevika, know that she is more then a good right hand but cares more for Zaun then most. I have a feeling one of them, perhaps Vi or Ekko, was the one to tell the Council who was to award a position on the council to represent Zaun's best interest, because Sevika is the best person for the job and deserves to be the one calling the shots for a change. -She now gets to experience what it feels like to be at peace, now she no longer has to fight. Whilst old habits die hard, I feel like Sevika is now exploring her options in terms of establishing her own home now she no longer needs to fear it being taken away from her. Like potentially adopting a pet that she can have some relaxing cuddles wih after council meetings and getting the chance to speak freely with something, as even with Miguel she could never just unload EVERYTHING.

[bluestrawberrybunny]

Haha! @briandraws I tricked you! >:3

I wasn’t innocent! I was plotting something all along! Hahahahahaha!

Hypno Marware one-shot fic for you :3

Forgive Me (Hypno Marware AU)

Don't deal with the devil. Those are some famous words to live by.

Mr. Puzzles, however, does not.

But hey, he got some cool new powers from this little deal! So... that was something!

He currently sat in his office at his house, tapping a pen furiously against the desk as he attempted to think of something, anything, to make his next show about. He had taken control over the one who had been the largest thorn in his side, the one that he swore to one day get revenge upon:

Mario Mario.

Thanks to that deal with Vox, he had managed to bend the plumber to his will. It was going great! He would have him do the dirty work for him too. Like a personal assistant! All stars have one of those, so of course he deserved one! And who better than Mario? The revenge was beautiful, in a way.

He looked over at the Italian as he stood there, swirls in his eyes from the mind control. He had made him change into a suit. Much better than those drab dirty overalls that have probably never been washed since 1987.

He sighed, motioning him over.

Mario obeyed, as he always did after he'd first hypnotized him.

The cyborg looked at the plumber. He wasn't able to respond to him, but... he could at least vent this all out to someone! Besides, if Mario was even listening he would be too dumb to understand. Right?

He'd been the audience to most of his frustrations throughout the past... month? Mr. Puzzles lost track of time. Hell, he hadn't even been sleeping. He just worked the day away with Mario running and grabbing things for him, or standing there and hearing him vent out his frustrations.

He sighed. "Why can't I think of anything?" He asked, looking towards the plumber again as his blank eyes stared at him.

Oh... those blue eyes... even when devoid of expression, they were quite beautiful. He could actually appreciate Mario's appearance, now that he's forced him to clean up a bit and after he stopped being so obnoxious.

And he... cared... even if it was fake...

"I don't understand. I have been drawing a blank with ideas for the past week! I don't... where's the inspiration? I can't create the best TV show without any ideas! What am I missing?" Mr. Puzzles gave a glitched huff. "No matter how hard I try, nothing comes to mind! Nothing! I was able to come up with amazing show ideas! Why can't I think of anything?"

The cyborg stared at the blank page in front of him. He had started writing several scripts, getting one sentence in before his creative flow stopped and he threw the paper away.

He sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Why? I... I can't just stop... then... then no one will..." He looked over to Mario, who continued to stare at him. "No one would care about me. No one will care for me if I don't keep making things... if I quit now, no one will care for me... I... I need to come up with something! Anything! Nothing comes to mind! Why am I out of ideas?"

Mr. Puzzles looked back at the page once more before crumpling up the page and throwing it in the trashcan with the other abandoned scripts.

He stood up angrily, walking towards the door and slamming it open. Mario followed close behind him, watching his every move and awaiting his next orders.

Mr. Puzzles walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge and searching for something to reignite that creative spark. Anything with caffeine.

Or alcohol...

Either would work, really.

"I just need that one great idea to hit!" He exclaimed. "Then everyone will know and adore me! I'll finally be popular!"

He grabbed a wine bottle, pouring it out and into a glass. "I just don't get why I can't come up with any good ideas!"

Mario continued to stare at him blankly, not moving as he stood in the kitchen's doorway.

"I'll never be famous like this! Ugh... but I can't give up! There has to be something where I can get an idea or... or... UGH!" He leaned his head against a cabinet. "I... why? Why am I unable to think of anything?"

He looked back at the plumber and patted his head. "Thank you for listening, Mario," he said, sad smile on his screen. "Even if you're just a measly puppet right now."

His expression changed to a solemn one, walking past him as he walked back to his office, wine glass in hand. Why did he feel... bad for this? Mario was the thorn in his side. Mario was the one that ruined everything. He'd sworn revenge on him after the Meme Factory, even!

So... why was guilt beginning to eat him up inside? Was he... really feeling bad about this? About controlling the fat Italian like a doll to bend to his will?

He looked back at Mario as he followed behind him.

It was... nice to have someone nearby. He'd been alone for so long...

No. He had to focus on writing this script so that he can rise to the top.

That was all that mattered.

But he didn't understand. He hadn't been bothered by the SMG4 crew since he brainwashed Mario, so... why was he drawing a blank on ideas? He'd been so annoyed at them ruining his work, but when they were gone he... had nothing.

Was it just an excuse?

He sighed. How was he going to get any ideas?

That night, Mario stood in the living room, blinking awake. He looked around the fancy-looking area around him. It was monochrome black and white, but... it looked very well-kept. He looked down at the suit he was wearing before stepping forward.

He walked over to the couch, looking at Mr. Puzzles as the cyborg sat with his TV head in his hands.

"Still nothing," he sighed, leaning back.

"TV Man?" Mario asked, walking over to him. "You ok?"

Mr. Puzzles jumped, turning around in his chair to stare at Mario. "I... wha...?"

"Mario asked if you're-a ok."

Mr. Puzzles stared at him. "You... you're..." He jumped up from his chair, pointing at him. "Oh, god! You're not brainwashed anymore!"

Mario tilted his head. "Yes?"

Mr. Puzzles screen changed to his crying face, looking away. Oh no.

"Wait..." he said as he looked back at the Italian. "Why... why are you asking if I'm ok? I... I thought you would have escaped, or beaten me up, or... something."

"Mario wants-a to know that you're-a ok," he said. "Mario... heard you talking."

Mr. Puzzles screen went blank as he realized the implications.

Mario had been conscious the entire time... he had heard everything. He remembered everything.

Suddenly that guilt he felt came back with a vengeance. Mr. Puzzles shook his head, crying face on his screen again. "Oh... oh no... I... I'm so sorry, Mario..."

He got down on his knees, gripping Mario's shoulders as the Italian looked him over in confusion.

"Huh?"

"I... I'm so so sorry," he said again. "I... I'm so... how could you ever forgive me for what I did?"

Mario looked away. "Um..."

"I... I used you as a puppet and... and you were aware the entire time..." Mr. Puzzles looked at him. "I am so sorry, Mario... just... just leave. Go back to your friends... I… at least when I brainwashed you all for Puzzlevision, you weren’t aware but… being stuck like that and… and being conscious… oh god…"

The Italian remained silent, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Mario… please, go,” Puzzles said.

He remained still, watching him as his singular brain cell burst to life to form a coherent thought.

“Dammit, Mario, leave! Or at least… do or say something! Anything!” Puzzles sobbed. “I… I can’t take the silence… it’s… it’s deafening…”

Mario shook his head. "No. M... Mario forgives you. You can-a get better. You... you need-a friends..."

Mr. Puzzles watched him, curious as to where he was going with that, even if he was still convinced that Mario should just leave him be.

"Mario knows what it's-a like to be in the spotlight," he continued. "Mario... wants-a to help you. If-a you are so set on being a star, Mario can... Mario can help keep you from going coo-coo crazy."

Mr. Puzzles shook his head, standing up and taking a step back. "No... I... I'm not... sure how that would work..."

"Mario wants to help you get better," Mario insisted. "Mario knows too much about you. You can-a change for the better."

Mr. Puzzles turned away, about to speak before the door was kicked in, the SMG4 crew rushing inside.

"Let Mario go, Mr. Puzzles!" Meggy exclaimed, standing in front of Mario with her splattershot pointed at his face.

"Wait, Leggy-" Puzzles began to say before SMG4 cut him off by punching him in the face.

"We're taking our friend back!" 4 snapped.

"Yeah!" Tari agreed, peaking her head through the doorframe before pulling it back out again.

SMG3 looked back at her and shook his head.

“Wait,” Puzzles said with a glitching voice before the crew proceeded to begin beating him up

Mario looked at them in shock before stepping in front of the cyborg. “Wait!”

“Mario,” 4 said, grabbing his friend and pulling him aside, “I know that you’re mind controlled right now, but we need to-”

“Mario is not mind controlled!” Mario snapped. “Mario is normal again! But let Mario speak! Please!”

The crew stopped, looking back at him from the mangled body of Mr. Puzzles.

“Mario is ok,” Mario said. “Let… let him be. Mario thinks he can-a do better. We should give him a chance.”

“Are you serious?” Meggy snapped, looking at him. “You are obviously still brainwashed!”

Mario shook his head. “I’m-a serious! He’s not-a so bad…”

“Are you hearing yourself?” SMG4 asked harshly. “In what world would Mr. Puzzles of all people…”

SMG3 watched the three of them argue about Mario’s newfound opinion of the cyborg before looking down at him.

Mr. Puzzles was picking himself up off the ground, putting a hand to his broken screen. “Ugh…” He looked over at the purple SMG as he looked him up and down. “Oh… um…”

SMG3 looked back over at Mario. He too had had a change of heart years ago and changed his ways to become their f- teammate or… something. He didn’t like hanging out with these losers. It was just better than nothing.

Mario sighed. “Fine! Then let’s-a go home and leave him alone?”

Meggy and SMG4 both looked at Mr. Puzzles, who was looking at the ground. He wasn’t even fighting them?

“Yeah,” 3 agreed. “Let’s… let’s go. Leave him here to think about things.”

The two watched as SMG3 left, Mario following close behind. 4 and Meggy both then turned their gaze to Mr. Puzzles, who was already making his way back to his office in order to fix his broken screen.

SMG4 looked over at Meggy, who shook her head and followed behind them.

“If you even think about following us-” 4 started to say before Mr. Puzzles shooed him off.

“I won’t,” he said. “I… I’m not in the mood.”

SMG4 tilted his head in confusion before reluctantly leaving behind the others.

“Can we get-a some spaghetti?” Mario asked excitedly as they walked back.

“Sure…” SMG4 said quietly.

Mario looked back at the house as they left. Mr. Puzzles really didn’t seem so bad, once he heard all of his troubles… he smiled. Maybe he could change Mr. Puzzles ways and then they wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore!

Meanwhile, Mr. Puzzles sat at his desk, reapplying a new screen. He sighed. Mario really stood up for him? After all that he did? Even after using him as a puppet while he was aware… he forgave him?

He smiled to himself, heartbeat monitor line across his screen.

Mario didn’t seem so bad either…

[marvelstars]

X-men 97 S1: 07

Loved this chapter it looks like Rogue and Captain America were investigating Hydra/Bastion Operation Zero Tolerance

It was a good showing for Rogue´s grieff but also of the X-men getting together to defeat this new enemy.

I LOVED Amelia Vogh appearing again, with her on Genosha along with Emma I get the sense that we are going to see the Ultimate Sentinel but with Mr Sinister and Cable there we also could be seeing Apocalypse soon, OZT could very well be his way of separating the strong mutants from the weak ones as his motto survival of the fittest said.

Loved nightcrawler comforting Rogue over Gambit and Magneto on days of the death in Mexico. Remy´s funeral was also very heartfel and beautiful, I don´t think the X-men made one for Magneto because without a body they know he still could be alive even if it´s a long shot and to be honest, no one of them except the professor was close enough to mourn him properly.

Cable calling Scott Dad and remembering Maddie was awesome, is what I always wanted to see in the comics, I love Jean but Maddie gave birth to Nathan and loved him, she deserves to be remembered by him as well.

Talking about that, Bastion having Magnus is horrible, my poor blorbo :( but if what Cable said was true, if only the electromagnetic fields can cointain prime sentinels then it makes sense to take Magneto out of the board and of course Bastion is a sadist so I can see him turning Magnus into a prime sentinel and if Apocalypse is also involved, he could also take the opportunity to turn him into one of his riders.

That last part gave me chills with that music, it´s just Magneto´s luck to die apparently and be taken by Bastion, Mr Sinister and their sentinels while Charles dies apparently and he gets a vacation, marriage and a galactic crown. That man just can´t win. Lol at them not only taking his powers away but also keeping his mouth shut, his mouth is too powerful not to take it away in this series.

In short I loved this, Genosha looks like it will still be a factor in this series in the near future so I hope we see other characters besides Amelia and if Exodus was a survivor that would give them another reason to become antagonists in this series.

PD: We also saw a short scene of Quicksilver and Strong Guy was on Genosha, that gives me hope of seeing Lorna in the next chapters especially if they are going to need someone who uses magnetic fields.

[toxiccluvvv]

HOW THEY SHOW LOVE;

Pairing: Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru x reader

Content Warning: chile idek

Word count: IM BACKKKKKK

Readers sex: Female

Hey babiesssss, I missed you and writing so this will be part 1 of maybe 3. I want to take writing slow to enjoy it and hopefully offer a better experience!! I hope you enjoy, did I mention IM BACKKKK. <3

Masterlist

HOW THEY SHOW LOVE:

Gojo-

* is very affectionate in private

* He has multiple love languages: touch, gift giving, and words of affirmation.

“Gojo!!!” You squealed as he lifted you in your shared apartment, Megumi wasn’t home yet, so it was just you and your lover. He has been very touchy and affectionate as of recent, you’re not complaining, but you wonder if there is something behind all of the affection…

“I got something for you, you’re coming with me” he spoke as he lifted you over his shoulder. He felt as if he could be himself entirely around you, no limitless, no best of his century, just Gojo and you.. it’s the place he has found the most solidarity in, where he identifies his peace.

You melted in his arms and allowed him to take you wherever he intended to take you without a worry in your mind, you loved being around him as much as you could, due to his busy and dangerous place of work tomorrow is truly never guaranteed. Your white haired blue eyed boyfriend is all that you needed in this life, and though you didn’t chose to be a sorcerer, he was all you needed in this life to feel complete. The little family you shared with him and Megumi made your heart so whole, so warm.

“I just wanted you to know how much you mean to Megumi and I, you make this house a home, and you deserve so much more than this, but it’s just the start of completing this imperfect life of ours.” Gojo spoke softly as he sat you at the dinner table in your house. It was filled with all your favorite foods along with a few gifts off to the side.

“You didn’t have to do all of this babe!!” You spoke taking in the beautiful surroundings, you could see all the time and effort put into this, he had laid out your favorite in order of how much you eat them, the room had a dim light, and he had the fire on in the back.

It was perfect just for you, and that’s all that mattered to the two of you.

Geto-

* He is very protective of you and the love that the two of you share

* He also has multiple love languages, but the main one being Touch.

You and Geto were out in the beautiful town of Shiybuya, the lights shining bright as the stars, the weather was a perfect cool breeze, and the town was booming. You took the time to embrace your surroundings just glad to be in the moment with your husband Geto. He had just returned from a serious mission with a S grade curse, due to all of the stress of the mission, he took you out on a night on the town!

You were admiring the clothes from behind the glass when you suddenly felt a person push into you abruptly, you were taken aback, but got over it fairly quick due to the volume of people in the area. Geto on the other hand was fuming, you could feel it without it even being said.

“Excuse me!! Watch where you’re going!!” Geto boomed from beside you, you felt yourself burning up as you started to blush. The person that bumped into you turned around just as quick as the words left Geto’s mouth. “What did you just say to me?” The man spoke just as loud “ I told you to watch the fuck where you’re going!! My wife is standing there!! Apologize!! Now!!” He demanded as he poked the man in the chest with each word. His demeanor was scary, the man quivered in fear.

“I’m very sorry!! Please forgive me ma’am” he spoke as he fell to his knees in front of you bowing before you, you were lost for words as you covered your mouth feeling your cheeks get even hotter, as if that was possible. “Please get up!! You’re forgiven!!” You spoke feeling bad for the man truly. He shot up and ran away with obvious fear.

“Honey, you didn’t have to do that.” You spoke as you felt Geto pulling you into his side wrapping his arm around you. He had a very funny way of showing how much he cared, but he never failed to show you.

“For you, I’ll do anything.”

[sincerelystarry]

name analysis for my existing readersonas (whether they have intros or not, consider this as crumbs for the ones that i haven’t fully developed yet)

@slfglow this is for u babyyyyy

🍒 cherry (djats) — "cherry bomb" by the runaways. cherries also symbolize love and beauty. in "regret me" she's the reason billy decides to go to rehab. she's the reason he actually works for love rather than thinking he deserves it bc he's "billy fucking dunne." cherry is a catalyst for billy's change into a better person.

the term "popping your/her/my cherry" being used for someone losing their virginity/innocence. the color red is also widely associated with lust and sex, which is an antithesis to the cherry fruit = innocence.

cherry's a balance of both. she's not stupid or naive, but she chose to stay mostly away from drugs when she was in pittsburgh & first came to LA. she'd drink w daisy occasionally but it was mostly just her taking care of daisy after she'd get wasted. she doesn't start using drugs until she gets swept up in the rockstar life, until she gets swept up with LA billy (who is very distinct from pittsburgh billy)

🍯 honey (djats) — honey is just as sweet as her name. her voice is smooth like honey, she strictly drinks the fruity cocktails rockstars dont touch, she stays away from the hard shit, she bakes cookies and has a sour dough starter and fosters kittens and makes oil paintings of pretty landscapes. but honey can be made into mead.

when she needs to be, she's strict. not in a controlling way, but in a "sit your ass down and drink this fucking water you are not taking another shot tonight" which is exactly what eddie needs (though he refuses to admit it) to keep himself from turning into billy.

honey has historically been used for medicinal purposes, and honey is basically the mom-friend of the group. she takes care of everyone after they go too hard, makes sure daisy eats more than one meal a day, will usually be the first one to go to teddy like "hey should we toss billy back into rehab"

🕊 dove (the hunger games) — doves widely symbolize peace, love, and hope, which is the embodiment of what dove is. despite being traumatized in the games and having too much blood on her hands, she shows the world that there's still some hope to be had. she's the embodiment of peace when people need her for a hug or reassuring words. she loves as much as she can, even after developing her trust issues after her games.

when hijacked in 13, she still tries to love finnick, despite everything the capitol had told her. she still has hope for the rebellion, even if so many people believe it's fruitless. she has hope in katniss, who she doesn't know that well, but believes in anyway. not the mockingjay, but katniss everdeen, whose interviews and games she watched.

doves are a symbol of death and rebirth. there are many versions of dove that have died and been born again. pre-games dove into post-games dove. healing dove into hijacked dove. and hijacked dove into just dove. the girl she always was, brought back to a world without the hunger games. a world without fear, where she can love the man she loves and have the family she's always wanted.

🪻viola (tbosas) — viola's name is taken from the main protagonist of shakespeare's "twelfth night." in the play, viola showcases a struggle with love and identity.

my viola struggles greatly with picking between what she loves and crafting new identities for herself. she loves her family and her life in the capitol, but she also loves sejanus. he doesn’t count as district, right? the plinth family is capitol now, is what she keeps trying to convince herself.

there are two violas. the perfect capitol girl. the politician’s daughter. turns her nose up at the gore and violence of the games but doesn’t otherwise have an opinion on them. the districts are below her, why should she care? and there’s sejanus’ viola. a secret rebel, maybe not as much as he is, but she still wants the games to end. she sees sejanus as district but doesn’t look down on him for it. he’s still her equal. he’s still hers, just as much as she’s his. but which viola is the real one?

⚔ laurel (tbosas) — his name is a cruel joke on his fate. laurels were used as a symbol of victory in rome. a tribute in the 10th hunger games, dead before he even entered the arena, laurel is anything but victorious.

the laurel tree is a symbol of the god apollo, the god of the sun and medicine. in the games, laurel focuses on keeping sabyn, his district partner, safe. he makes sure her wounds are treated best as possible, using himself as her shield. he's anything but a ray of sunshine, laurel is quite stoic. he tries to hide when he cares for someone, doesn't let himself be vulnerable. and yet, he's a light in sejanus' life. a glimmer of hope that maybe the two of them could fix this together. that maybe laurel could win the games and sejanus could change panem from the inside out.

laurel was never a victor, despite what his name may lead you to believe. laurel wreaths are crowned on the heads of victors, they aren't victors themselves. he will be the crown on the heads of the members of the rebellion, 65 years later. he will be the laurel branches on the flag of panem after the games are over. he was never a victor himself, but his spirit will crown the victors with laurel wreaths of their own.

🪽 angel (stranger things) — angel is pretty much the opposite of her name. she does well in school, but that's about it. she buys weed from eddie munson, listens to metallica and motley crue, plays the bass guitar and is pissy when eddie doesn't let her be in corroded coffin (though she still plays dungeons and dragons with him. she wont wear the shirt, though. ew.)

despite the hobbies she pursues and the way she acts, angel still looks the part. perfect flowy dresses, hair all done up nice, smile always perfectly placed. she knows what people think of her, tells them to "be not afraid" with her glittery eye shadow and pink lipgloss.

angels are guardians, protectors, and she tries her best to be that for dustin & co. they're her dnd babies, she's their guardian angel. if steve is the mom of the group, angel is the dad. she helps them do the dangerous thing but makes sure they don't get caught or hurt doing it. sneaks the boys beer when they're still underage but keeps them away from weed. she may not be the holiest girl in the world, but she cares. that's all that really matters.

[awesomelynerdymama]

Hey y'all! This is my first attempt at Tumblr fic l, but I've had so much inspiration from @mynameismckenziemae @withahappyrefrain @sometimesanalice that I couldn't help but at least try posting my own fic. This is just a short prologue to what I hope is a long lived story and it's a Jake/OFC/Bradley fic, so is that isn't your think, definitely scroll on by.

Title: Love is a Funny Thing

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OFC x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Triggers: Character significant other death, cancer, funeral, hints of a throuple if you squint

Disclaimer: I own nothing Top Gun or Top Gun: Maverick related. I just borrow the characters for my own self indulgent purposes.

If you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know.

Prologue

You made it through the diagnosis. You made it through the surgeries, the hospital stays, the chemo, and the radiation. You made it through goodbye and planning. You made it through the ceremony, the drive to the cemetery, the flag being presented to your son (he held together so well and you were so proud of him), the missing man flyover, and the 21 gun salute.

Now, though, now you were standing there alone, everyone else had left to head back to the house for the reception, watching them bury the love of your life in the cold, unfeeling earth and you couldn't make it through anymore.

The tears came first, hot and harsh. Then the sobs. They started out small and finally built to wrack your whole body. Each inch of dirt made it hurt a little more. Each inch took him further and further away from you. You knew the body in that casket wasn't really him. He was long gone. No longer in pain and no longer suffering. Well, unless he knew how you were doing right now. He'd hate that, but you couldn't help it anymore. You'd been so strong for so long and the dam had finally broken.

You were angry. Angrier than you'd ever been in your life. It wasn't fair. Mike had been the love of your life and you'd only gotten twelve years with him, barely longer than your first marriage that had been a young mistake. What had your family done to deserve this? What had Mike done? Hell, what had you done? You could almost see all the retirement and life plans slipping away on the faint breeze rustling through the spring trees.

It was a beautiful day. Such a relief after weeks of rain, but right now that made you mad too. How dare Mother Nature show off in this way when your heart was shattering into pieces? The enormous unfairness threatened to overwhelm you and you felt your knees buckle. A silly little voice in the back of your head chided that the mud under your knees was going to run your pantyhose and a watery giggle made its way out between sobs. What a ridiculous thing to think. Who gave a fuck about pantyhose when your life was falling apart at the seams?

You were taken aback a split second later when you didn't feel mud squelching under your splayed knees, but instead felt two sets of strong arms holding you inches off the ground. You knew without looking who they belonged to. You should have known they'd stay behind, waiting for you to be ready to leave. They probably loaded up the kids themselves and fended off well meaning family members.

The four of you had been fast friends almost since the moment your husband transferred into their unit at Top Gun as the new logistics officer. The three of them had always seemed an odd trio to those that saw them together on base. Two hot shot pilots hanging out with an unglamorous logistician? Not something you see every day, but something had clicked and you knew the first time he brought them home for dinner that they would always be family. That was six years ago when you'd been pregnant with your youngest.

The diagnosis had come four years later and you'd fought right alongside Mike until he told you he was done. Two years is a long time for David to fight off Goliath. You'd gone through all the stages of grieving, you thought, while you watched him slowly fade from the enigmatic man you'd married and raised five kids with to a shell of a man that held on far too long because he knew it would hurt you and the kids.

You finally convinced him it was okay to go with whispered reassurances in his ear and a final kiss on his lips. The older two were in the room as you held him through his last breath and you would probably always wonder if that had been a mistake, but they were grown, 21 and 19, and had earned the right to make the decision when they stayed in the trenches with y'all through the whole ordeal.

Bradley whispering calming words into your ear while Jake stroked your hair brought you back to the current shitty reality. You should have known they'd stay. They'd been there right along with the rest of you through the whole thing taking kids to school and practice, getting Mike to and from appointments, and coming by in the evenings to help you maintain the house. You really had no idea what you had done to deserve them. They truly had been one of the greatest silver linings to an unbearable change to your amazing life.

You tried to stand up. Tried to control your breathing to get the sobs to subside. You even tried to get to the wad of tissues in your purse to stem the flow of tears and snot streaming down your face, but in the end all you could do was let loose the loudest, most gut wrenching scream from the depths of your soul at the reality that the man you loved more than anyone in the world was truly gone. As soon as it ended, you felt your entire body go limp. You had nothing left, but you didn't have to worry as Jake swung you up into his arms and Bradley gathered your shoes and purse before gently wiping your face. They both turned to head to the one remaining vehicle on the road, Jake's truck, and you glanced back to watch the heavy equipment finish burying your heart in the ground.

The drive home was silent with Jake holding your left hand from the driver's seat and Bradley rubbing your shoulders from the back. You found yourself vaguely wondering if they were as attentive with each other in their relationship as they were being, and had been over the last few months, with you. It was a weird, random thought and you found yourself shaking your head in disbelief that it had even crossed your mind on today of all days.

The motion caught both their attentions, but anyone other than you would have known that neither had let you out of their sight for more than a moment all day, so that minute movement had them wondering what you were thinking.

Jake spoke first, “What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

There was a moment of hesitation as you came up with a believable lie, but then you said, “Just thinking about how much I don't want to face all those people at the house.”

“You don't have to, you know. We could take you somewhere else, anywhere else, if you want us to,” Bradley offered as he continued gently rubbing your shoulders.

You scoffed lightly, “That's just what everyone needs, another reason to talk about my supposed ‘boy harem’.”

Jake looked affronted, “You say that like it's a bad thing. You could do much worse than me and Rooster as members of your harem. I'm hurt.”

You couldn't have stopped the giggle that bubbled up no matter how hard you tried, but just as quickly as it started, it morphed into a sob as you realized you were now one member fewer in your fictional harem.

“God, I just miss him so much,” you sniffed as you brought your emotions back under control, “this isn’t how it's supposed to be. We're supposed to be getting serious about planning for retirement and weddings and grandbabies. I'm not supposed to be doing this alone. What do you do when you lose the love of your life in your forties? How are you supposed to plan the other half of your life alone?”

“You won't be alone,” Bradley gently reassured, “we'd never let that happen.”

You smiled at him in the rearview mirror and patted his hand on your shoulder before responding, “I know, but having two amazing best friends at my beck and call, while great, isn't exactly what I was talking about, but I really do appreciate y'all more than you know.”

A look you couldn't quite decipher passed between the two and you usually would have questioned it, but given the day, you were off your game and let it pass.

“We know you do, darlin, and we appreciate you too,” Jake finally answered as he pulled into the driveway of your home. Thankfully, everyone has been courteous enough to leave a spot open and you found your feet automatically pulling you out of the truck toward the front door before you even had time to think.

A gentle hand on your wrist had you turning to see both men standing at each other's side behind you. Jake smiled as he released your hand, “Are you sure you want to go in there?”

You returned the smile and took a deep breath before answering, “Yeah, it's the last big thing I have to do today, play hostess for a few hours. I owe it to Mike and the kids to be in there for them and you know as well as I do that Charlotte is probably looking for me already. Jack's probably sick of all the attention he's getting and Elizabeth is probably losing her mind trying to keep up with everything. The other two are probably hiding in a corner trying to figure out what to do. They need me. Are y'all coming in?”

You knew the answer. There's no way they'd leave you alone until everyone was gone and you kicked them out, but there was that look again. What was up with these two today? You weren't going to let it slide this time, but Jake beat you to it, “Umm, yeah, we'll be in in just a minute. Let us grab our jackets from the truck.”

You nodded, even though there was still that niggling suspicion that something was up, and turned to head inside to handle the crowd. Mike had been loved both by the staff on base and the friends and family you'd made over your short time together and his longer time in the Navy. You knew the house would be packed and normally that was the way your wanted it, but today you just wanted to be left alone with the little family you had made.

Regardless, your heart always warmed when you laid eyes on your house, though. It was your forever home and you'd both poured love into it as such. It was a beautiful craftsman on a scenic street in Coronado of all places. You never thought you'd be a West Coast girl, firmly believing the East Coast was where you would end up, but here you were and you couldn't imagine living anywhere else now that moving every three years was no longer your reality.

Your hand grasped the antique doorknob that you'd spent months searching for and you paused a second longer, just savoring the quiet, then gently pushed the door open to the cacophony of noise that came from the nostalgic crowd inside.

Back on the lawn, two sets of eyes were intent on you until the door closed at your back. Still, neither man moved for a moment. Bradley finally broke the silence, “When are we going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?” Came Jake's quick reply.

Bradley pulled an exasperated face, “That the Padres are going to the World Series. You know exactly what I'm talking about. About the letters Mike left for us and for her.”

Jake was silent for a few more moments as he still stared at the closed front door, finally responding with, “When she's ready. She needs time. I know it, Mike knew it, and you know it too. We move too fast and we'll lose her. We both know that. The last thing we want is to lose the woman we love, especially because her dying husband gave us his blessing.”

Wrapping his arm around Bradley's waist, Jake pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek before leading him toward the front of the house, “Come on, babe, let's go help our girl.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to treat this short little blurb. I hope to have a longer chapter one up in the next few days

[missryomenn]

THE UNFORGIVEN ♰ toji fushiguro

chapter 6

a/n: i already wrote these chapters...like a month ago. on a different platfrom. im just editing and posting them here. i just wanted to let you all know. i dont sit and write all day long lol cuz it might seem like i do that, since i post 2 times a day

masterlist

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In the dead of night, the door to your room opened silently. The sound of the lock echoed through the house and a shadow stepped inside. It moved slowly toward your curled up figure at the edge of the bed. Then, as if even breathing beside you might break something fragile, it sat down at the far end of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under its weight.

Still, you didn’t wake up. You had exhausted yourself crying and praying so much…

The shadow remained still for a long time, watching you. The only sound in the room was your uneven breathing. He didn't speak, he didn’t dare. Maybe it was guilt tightening his chest.

His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you. But he didn’t. Coward. Even monsters like him could fear something. Like the softness of your skin, the fragility of your sorrow, the fact that despite everything he’d done, you still cried where he couldn’t see it. Quiet. Alone. Just like him.

Toji leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice, when it finally came, was barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

What the fuck had he become? His fists clenched against his thighs. He wanted to touch you, just once. Maybe to feel your warmth, maybe to remind himself that you were still breathing. Or maybe just to prove he wasn’t the kind of bastard who would let you disappear into the dark without even a whisper of comfort. You were supposed to be a job. He repeated it in his head like a prayer. Like saying it again and again would make it true. But your voice, it echoed through him. All those things you said about purpose, about despair, about his own soul... he hated that you saw him. Hated that your words still clung to him like blood he couldn't wash off. And he hated more than anything that some twisted part of him wanted to be seen by you. He was a soldier. A killer. A monster.

But in that room, next to you... He was just a man who didn't know if he deserved to be forgiven.

He stayed there, unmoving, until the first light of morning kissed the edges of the window. He opened the windows of your room. Drew back the curtains too. Let the sunlight pour in and for a while he just stood there, watching you.

You were young. Beautiful. You could’ve been in the spring of your life right now. Toji knew that. He’d followed you for weeks. You had friends. A job already waiting for you. Guys lining up just to get a shot at asking you out. You were just an ordinary, beautiful girl. One who deserved to be happy. And he’d taken that from you. He’d dragged you into his swamp of shit and left you to die in it. When you fell and split your head open, he didn’t call a doctor. Didn’t listen when you begged. He just hurt you again and again. And now, for the first time in a long time he was feeling something again.

Mercy. So maybe he wasn’t the monster he thought he was after all. Maybe somewhere deep in that wrecked soul of his, there was still a buried, hidden piece fighting to remind him how to be human. Because being human meant having a conscience. Meant showing mercy. And Toji had lived so far from that for so long, he’d forgotten he was human at all. No, when he looked in the mirror, all he saw was the reflection of a monster. A void. An abyss.

Your eyelids fluttered like they were stitched to dreams you didn’t want to leave behind. But something, some shift in the air, in the light… dragged you back. Sunlight. The first thing you saw when your eyes cracked open was him. Toji Fushiguro.

Sitting at the edge of your bed like a ghost that never left, like the shadow carved into your ribs. His eyes were locked on you, unblinking. Empty… but not cold. Not this time. You tensed, muscles coiling instinctively, breath catching in your throat. The light from the window stretched over him, golden and cruel, painting the lines of his face with a glow he didn’t deserve.

“You’re awake." What the hell was he doing just watching you like that?

But more than that... why did his stare feel like it ached? Why did it feel like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how?

“Why are you here.”

“I locked you in. I shouldn’t have. I know that.”

You scoffed, bitterness dripping off your lips. “Know that? That’s all you’ve got?”

He looked away.

“I ruined you."

“No." You whispered, heart breaking in your throat. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to make that yours.”

He looked like you’d stabbed him.

Good. Let him bleed. You stood. Your legs were weak but your voice came out strong. Like fire meeting oil. “You ruined me?” You laughed. Like a blade scraping bone. “You ruined me? Don’t flatter yourself, Toji.”

He didn’t blink. Just stared at you.

“You think you have that much power? You think you can walk into my life, destroy everything, leave me for dead, and still get to say you ruined me?” You took a step closer. Another. Until you were right in front of him. Eye to eye.

“No. You don’t get that. I cried. I begged. I bled. And every time I did you just watched. Like I was some fucking show put on for your sick little entertainment. And now? You wanna sit there and sulk? Feel something?” You slammed your fist against your chest. “Well guess what? I feel everything. I feel the fucking nights I spent screaming into my pillow so no one would hear. I feel the silence. The fear."

Still no reaction. You hated that. You hated how he sat there, soaking in your pain like it belonged to him.

"I think some twisted, pathetic part of me still wanted you to care.”

Toji shot to his feet instantly. Now you had to tilt your head up just to meet his gaze. You swallowed hard, there was death in his eyes. The look of a soldier who had stopped fighting. But still… you knew. He didn’t fully understand you. Not yet. Toji memorized the pain and fury burning in your eyes, carved it into his own mind. “You’re right. I don’t give a fuck about you. I won’t. Because that’s the kind of man I am. I don’t give a shit what you think. Still… I promise. Once this is over, I’ll get the fuck out of your life. Until then, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

He was done. Worn thin. Sick of the sound of this entire conversation.

“You don’t have to deal with me again.”

You were about to answer but the door creaked open suddenly. Shiu stepped inside. “Listen, Toji, we’ve got a fucking problem.” He said, not even bothering with pleasantries. His tone was urgent, every word clipped. “Something big just came through. A major offer and I need you to hear it now.”

Toji’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move. His gaze stayed steady on Shiu, though there was a flicker of curiosity in the cold depths of his stare.

“What are you talking about?”

"Outside." Shiu looked at you. It was clear he didn’t want to talk in your presence. Then he and Toji walked out of the room together. You stood in the middle of the room, chest rising and falling too fast. The door had closed behind them but it felt like a wall had just gone up again. You looked around, desperate for anything to distract the flood crawling back into your head. The open windows let in the golden light of morning but the warmth didn’t reach your skin. You didn’t move. Just stood there like your body was caught between fight and flight but your soul had picked neither.

Every word Toji said still rang in your ears like a curse.

"I don’t care about you."

It echoed and echoed and each time it stabbed deeper. He meant it. Of course he meant it. What were you even expecting? Your fists curled up again. You wanted to throw something. Break something. But even your rage was tired now. So instead, you just whispered to the empty air...

“Then why did you save me?”

No one answered. Not even whatever sick god was watching.

ִ ࣪𖤐

At the police station, the fluorescent lights buzzed above like a swarm of mechanical insects. Your best friend sat at the metal table, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of a paper cup filled with lukewarm water.

Two officers stood across from her. One of them was older, weary eyes behind thick glasses, his notepad already half-filled. The other was younger.

“She was with you the night she went missing,” the younger one said, his tone too clipped to be called kind. “Tell us again. From the start.”

“I don’t really remember. I was drunk. We were dancing a lot, and then she just suddenly disappeared. While I was looking for her, I ran into some other friends and… I forgot everything. Then we texted... but you already read those.”

“And you didn’t think it was strange that she never came back?”

“I did!” Her voice cracked slightly, eyes wide. “But by the time I realized something was really wrong... it was too late.” Your friend held her breath for a second. “She’d been feeling watched for a while. Someone was following her when she walked back to her dorm. But since it was exam week, she thought it was just the stress messing with her head.”

The officer narrowed his eyes, tapping a pen against the table. “Why didn’t she report that? Feeling followed isn’t exactly something you brush off.”

Your friend shrugged uneasily, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “She didn’t want to seem paranoid, I guess. She kept saying, ‘it’s probably nothing,’ but... I don’t know. There was this one time. She called me, freaking out. Said she heard footsteps behind her all the way from the library to her building. She even ran the last few meters. But when I told her to go to security, she just laughed. Said she was being silly.”

“And you really believe it was just stress?”

Your friend nodded, then hesitated. “I wanted to believe that. She was acting normal most of the time… but she’d get quiet sometimes. Just… zone out. Like she was listening for something only she could hear.”

The younger officer leaned forward, arms crossed over the table. “Did she mention anyone? A name? A face?”

“No.” She whispered. “She never said anything specific."

“And the night she disappeared... did you see anyone? Anyone watching her?”

“I don’t know. There were so many people. Flashing lights, loud music. It was chaos. But maybe... maybe someone was there the whole time. And we were too distracted to see.”

She buried her face in her hands.

The police officer had reviewed the evidence. Now, all that was left was to piece it together. He rose from the table and quickly exited the interrogation room. Then, he entered the room where your mother and father were waiting. He shut the door behind him.

“We’re doing everything we can.” He said, glancing between them. “But in order to move forward, we’re going to need something else from you.”

Your mother’s voice came out in a whisper. “What is it?”

He looked down at the folder in his hand for a brief second, then met their eyes again. “We need her DNA. A hairbrush, a toothbrush, something personal she’s used recently."

A beat of silence followed. Your mother nodded slowly, tears beginning to gather again, and your father finally stood, his voice grave. “We’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you. The sooner we have it, the better. We haven’t given up on her. Don’t you give up either.”

ִ ࣪𖤐

There was a bright aura in the house. For the first time. No one was paying attention to you. Shiu and Toji were laughing downstairs. The smell of cigarettes had filled every corner. You were hungry so you quietly stepped out of your room on tiptoe and leaned over the staircase, trying to listen to their conversation.

Toji was slouched on the couch, completely absorbed in his phone. His fingers tapped the screen rapidly as he grinned, clearly winning whatever ridiculous bet he’d placed. You peeked from the staircase, watching him with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"You’re seriously gambling again? Didn’t you lose all your money last time?"

Toji didn’t even look up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Nah, I’m just warming up. I’m on a roll." He tapped the screen a few more times and smirked. "Watch this."

Suddenly, the phone screen flashed with the words “YOU LOST!” in big, bold letters. Toji blinked, staring at it for a moment before his grin faltered. His fingers hovered over the screen as though he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Shiu snorted, crossing his arms. "Sure, you’re on a roll, huh? What was that, the warm-up to your inevitable failure?"

Toji gave him a side-eye but quickly recovered. “Just a minor setback." he said, swiping through the app again. "This time’s gonna be different. I can feel it."

"You’re literally betting your phone’s battery at this point. If you’re going down, you’re going down hard."

Toji chuckled darkly. “If I’m gonna go down, I’m taking you with me. Come on, let’s see if you can beat me at this game.” He tossed the phone toward Shiu, who caught it effortlessly with a raised eyebrow.

“You really want me to take your losses for you, huh?”

"Hell yeah. I have faith in you. Plus, it'll be funny when you lose."

Shiu tapped the phone’s screen with confidence and the app lit up with flashing lights.

“WHAT?” Toji shouted, sitting up straight, eyes wide in disbelief. “How the hell’d you do that?!”

Shiu, still cool as ever, looked at the phone. “You’re gonna need more than just talk. I told ya, don’t mess with me.”

“Alright, alright, you got me good. Damn, I wasn’t expectin’ that, but I’m gonna get my revenge."

You slipped down the stairs, your bare feet making barely a sound against the wooden steps. Toji wasn’t paying attention to you as you quietly entered the room. His focus was fully on his phone, fingers tapping quickly against the screen. His mouth moved, muttering curses under his breath. “Fuckin’ hell, how the hell did I lose that round? Bullshit.”

Shiu, on the other hand, glanced up and caught your eye. He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "So, your boy's at it again. Trying to lose every cent he’s got."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room, folding your arms. "Um, hello? You have a hostage here."

Shiu rolled his eyes. "Don't have to remind."

Toji turned to you for the first time and smiled. It was strange how much he enjoyed gambling. As if everything between you two was completely normal. “Come on, play too.” He got up from the couch and walked toward you.

You decided to give it a try, not expecting much. As you placed your bet, your fingers hovered over the phone screen, and with a small rush of adrenaline, you spun the wheel. The numbers blurred together, and when they finally stopped, you saw the prize—50,000 yen.

Your heart skipped a beat and a grin spread across your face. You had just won big. Toji’s eyes widened in surprise, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Shit, you actually did it.” He said, grinning like a kid who just got his favorite toy. Without thinking, he stepped forward, his hands grabbing your neck in an unexpected move. Before you could even react, he planted a kiss on your cheek. The kiss was brief but it lingered with a sense of possessiveness that made your heart race. He didn’t pull away immediately, his lips staying there for a split second longer than necessary. When he finally pulled back, his eyes met yours, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. His grip on your neck loosened but the moment still felt charged, leaving you a little breathless and unsure of how to respond.

"Nice one."

You shoved him off immediately, your body stiff with disgust. “What the hell, Toji?!”

He barely seemed phased, just a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You think this is funny?"

“Nah, not at all." Toji lost interest and returned to the couch. He took off his slippers as he walked, then literally threw himself onto the couch. "I’m gonna get myself a new weapon. I want an UMP-45."

"You won 75 million yen. And yet you're still gambling." Shiu said. Toji just shrugged his shoulders. "I'll get another 75 million from this girl. It'd be nice to retire. Oh wait, not 75 million anymore."

You furrowed your brows. Shiu and Toji exchanged glances, both of them smiling slyly. They must have planned something while you were upstairs. But what?

Shiu leaned back in his chair, the sly grin never leaving his face. “I know a way to close off your debt to Toji."

“What are you talking about, Shiu?”

“Well, if you want to make it all go away... you could pay him back in another way.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What the hell do you mean?”

"Want to get it on the assassination of the Star Plasma Vessel?"

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