#THIS SET... i have been trying to make this set for like... over a year

[druidfolk]

shadowzel AU — medusa and her blind lover

'What was it that stayed my hand then?

With dagger held unsheathed, blade pointing in its side'

Upon learning of Lae'zel, the terrible local Gorgon that occupied crumbled ancient ruins somewhere out in the country, Shadowheart had been set on killing her and turning in her head for the reward. She was blind, after all, and likely would be unaffected by the monster's terrible curse.

But when Shadowheart becomes prey herself, hunted by a band of brigands crueler and greedier than her and after the same prize, she is fated to a brutal mauling. Unknowingly she flees straight into the Gorgon's den, and when Lae'zel locks eyes with the criminals they seize, turning to stone within seconds, allowing Shadowheart the chance to slip away and hide. With Lae'zel distracted, she has the perfect opportunity to ambush the monster; what she does not expect is the sound of the tall, rippling form of Lae'zel slithering around the corner of a ruined column to confront her.

Shadowheart can hear its raspy breathing, can feel the coolness from the way its shadow blocks the sun as it towers above, only feet from her; she grips the pitiful knife in her sweaty palm and prepares to strike as close to the neck as she can get. All she needs to do is cut off its head, and then she was rich.

Her grip on the dagger tightens and her blood runs icy when the creature cornering her utters a single phrase in its gritty, underused voice.

"Are you injured?" it croaks coldly.

Shadowheart hesitates. Turns out her theory was correct; though she can feel the Gorgon's molten gold eyes bearing into her own, her body remains soft, alive. She tests her lungs, and fresh air flows in through her nose. She is alive.

'I'd been set upon by a predator

It was just looking for a meal, I saw ribs and fearful eyes'

Lae'zel is not stupid; she's been hunted day and night for years now, but nobody has ever gotten close enough to harm her.

Until Shadowheart.

She cannot immediately deduce Shadowheart's original intentions, for all she appeared to be was a helpless blind girl pursued by rapists and murderers. However, her disability proved itself a threat to Lae'zel; she can get close, too close. Close enough to land a deadly blow if Lae'zel is caught unawares.

So she decides to kill her. Eliminate such a threat once and for all, and Lae'zel can go back to her cold, isolated life in the ruins.

It had not been long since Lae'zel sent her away, letting her leave freely if she promised not to try anything stupid. That was her first mistake: showing her mercy. Shadowheart took this opportunity and fled, battered and exhausted. She'd be slow, easy prey.

She finds the girl in the evening, struggling through a waist-high grassy field. She must have lost the path at some point and failed to find it again. The tall foliage made the perfect cover for a creature like Lae'zel, who could easily weave her way through the blades and take her prey by surprise. As she draws nearer, the scent of copper fills the air. Peeking over the grass she can see that Shadowheart is struggling for a multitude of reasons; the thick grasses slow her down, yes, but she is more slowed by the deep gash in her side, blood bubbling out between her fingers as she attempts and fails to staunch the flow.

Lae'zel may be a monster, but she is more honorable than kicking a creature while it's down. She watched the ailing girl for a few moments longer, gauging how far she might make it. She only gets a few dozen more steps in before she crashes to the ground, uttering a pained groan before going still and quiet. Lae'zel quickly scans the area for any other life. Satisfied by the silence, Lae'zel darts forward and peers down at Shadowheart tangled in the grass, covered in smears of dirt and dried blood. She seems much less threatening in this state, and the Gorgon cannot help but give in to her piqued curiosity; she scoops the white-haired woman up and roughly tosses her over her shoulder, sliding effortlessly through the field once she finds a useable path that leads toward her temple.

Shadowheart is all but dumped on the dusty floor to wait there until she regains consciousness. Then, she will be Lae'zel's to do with whatever she pleases.

'What is it that stays my hand now?

With so much misery that I could mercifully put ends to

For that animal I let slink off into the undergrowth, unscathed

Do I not fear death, but just pretend to?'

Shadowheart is not a prisoner, Lae'zel insists. She is a merely a guest who is not allowed to leave until she recovers. This leaves her with plenty of time to plot and scheme, to plan the slaughter of this demon and be done with it. But night after night, she lies awake sleepless, unable to bring herself to action. She cannot bring herself to kill the creature who likely saved her life, who continues to let her stay in its home and asks nothing in return.

Maybe she plans to wait until Shadowheart is healthy again to kill and eat her. She doesn't know. Instead of worrying over it, she talks.

She mostly talks to herself for the first few days. When Lae'zel is around—usually only to check that Shadowheart had not tried escaping for the third time—she says little to nothing; her vocabulary seems to consist primarily of grunts and sighs and hissing. A lot of hissing, especially when Shadowheart accidentally shifts too close.

She comments on the Gorgon's collection of swords one night as she is slithering away into the darkness. It's a desperate grab at any kind of communication, and Shadowheart knows she's struck gold when she hears Lae'zel halt, then turn a fraction in the dirt.

"You wish to know of my swords?" she whispers, her tone suspicious with the barest hint of surprise.

Shadowheart nods all too eagerly, and she spends the rest of the night listening to Lae'zel tell the stories of nearly each and every one. Some she left out; whether they were too painful a memory or an insignificant one, Shadowheart did not know. But she listened.

And then the person behind the monster began to show through. Shadowheart would garner little bits and pieces of her history throughout the stories. She pointed to the jagged scar running down her right shoulder blade and told the tale of a clever thief who used mirrors to try and outsmart her. He'd managed to sneak up behind her and land a brutal slash down her back, but it wasn't enough to kill her. She puffed with pride as she regaled how she twisted and snapped him up by the throat with her injured arm, and grinned wickedly as his face froze in terror, the expression forever carved into stone.

She also tells stories of recent onslaughts of attacks, some by targeted monster hunters and others who happened to wander into her domain and wanted what she had for themselves, and what she had admittedly wasn't much. Shadowheart learns, through glimpses into Lae'zel's past, what a tortured life she's lived. She almost wonders if killing her would be a mercy, but shakes the thought away as Lae'zel dives into another tale centered around a bejeweled dagger. Then another, this time a hunter's bow.

By the time she is telling the story of the ogre and his crystalline club, Shadowheart is drifting into sleep.

'For it was starving, it was hungry

But had eyes too close to let me'

For a very long time, Lae'zel killed anyone that walked into her temple, whether she meant to or not. Innocent, curious children and poor lost elders were not even spared, and over time her heart grew cold and hardened from it. She learned to accept that she would be alone until her final day, and made surprisingly easy peace with that fact.

But then Shadowheart came into the picture; an equally as lonely annoying little farm girl with an overambitious sense of adventure, given her particular limitations. She intrigued and infuriated Lae'zel to no end. Why did she keep her up into the late hours of the night, when her time could be better spent curled into some cold corner, fighting for any scrap of rest? Why did she return day after day, sometimes staying away for as long as a week at a time, yet always comes back? It distressed Lae'zel greatly how empty and chilled the temple felt without Shadowheart's presence when only a month ago it would not have bothered her. She may have even preferred it. But now the wind whistles too loudly as it tears through the columns, the echoes of crumbling structures startle her when she is too deep in her head. It is driving her mad.

She watches the sun during the day and the moon during her sleepless nights, both in an endless rotation but never touching. How she longs for them to touch. The thought disgusts her, but she dimly wonders when Shadowheart will come back anyway.

'If you were easy to kill, I would have done it already'

Some days, when thoughts of Shadowheart torment Lae'zel to no end, she once more considers killing the girl. Out of sight, out of mind. But the image of Shadowheart bleeding, choking, dying by her hand tortures her far worse than even the tenderest of desires.

'Plagued by phantom noises

That that skeletal beast was haunting all my steps'

During the first few nights of Shadowheart's recovery, when she was delirious with pain and sweating with fever, she thought she could hear the heavy drag of a serpentine body around every wall and column. Her heart would race with panic while her body remained sluggish and weak, trapping her in place. If she were to be Lae'zel's prey, there was nothing she could have done to stop it.

Even after some flimsy semblance of trust had been established, both women slept with daggers under their bedding for some time.

'Questioning all my choices

With that dagger held unsheathed, I felt sick at my contempt'

Even after her body recovered, Shadowheart suffered. She struggled with the guilt of her choices; she could have killed Lae'zel as she intended to and save hundreds of travelers from a stony demise. But as she comes to learn, it is not Lae'zel who is the monster. It is instead those who seek to harm her.

For as long as Lae'zel has existed in her current form, she's been hunted. A target was planted firmly on her back the moment this terrible curse was inflicted upon her. She refuses to share her origin story, how she came to be this way, and Shadowheart does not press. Instead, a thick, sickening lump of empathy, remorse and fury lodges itself in her throat and sticks fast.

Every time she sees Lae'zel, with every new bit of information she learns, the lump grows and it chokes her further.

'For you were lonely, you were like me

Like some outside force had sent me

If I was easy to kill, you would have done it already'

Lae'zel's loneliness is not as apparent as Shadowheart's. She hides hers well, whereas Shadowheart's desperation for connection shows more plainly, and that scared Lae'zel. She kept her distance, only checking on the girl once a day at first, but over time Shadowheart's tendency to chatter away in that clipped, sarcastic tone of hers wore down Lae'zel's walls. The way she asked questions drew her in. Unbeknownst to Shadowheart, the monster's heart ached in very much the same way as her human one did.

Shadowheart gave up on killing Lae'zel a long while ago. She kept their visits a tightly bound secret; it wasn't as if anyone would notice she was missing anyway. Even without her eyesight, by now her feet carried her to the temple through memory alone.

'You are at my feet, we're by the fire

You're a gentle beast and I'm alive

You are at my feet, we're by the fire

You're a gentle, purring beast and I'm alive

You are at my feet, we're by the fire

You're a healthy, gentle, purring beast and I'm alive'

As Shadowheart slowly peels back Lae'zel's layers, she finds something she doesn't expect: a highly intelligent, fiercely loyal and passionate companion. She became somewhat protective over Shadowheart in the weeks they grew closer, threatening to hunt down and slay anyone who even mildly inconvenienced her. Underneath Lae'zel's pointed scales, sharp teeth and head full of writhing snakes is a women starved of loved yet too prideful to admit it.

One night, as Shadowheart reclined by the fire with Lae'zel curled next to her, she studied the beastly woman she harbored a thinly-veiled affection for. The serpents sprouting from the Gorgon's scalp formed a languid pile of warm bodies in Shadowheart's lap while her head rested atop a pillowy thigh. She found it interesting and endearing how the snakes mirrored Lae'zel's condition. When she slept, they slept. When she was ill or injured, so were they. They showed excitement and thrill in their own way when Lae'zel discussed a topic she was passionate about. They even seemed to like Shadowheart.

Past her broad shoulders, the wiry expanse of her body was cradled comfortably by her serpent half, and Shadowheart wondered with some shame whether she could fit in there next to her. She stroked a finger along the length of a dozing snake's head and smiled to herself when its strange reptilian eyelids fluttered. Lae'zel twitched and muttered in her sleep, and Shadowheart's heart clenched painfully at the implications of this kind of trust. She couldn't hope for something more than this.

She brushed her fingers along Lae'zel's long bony ones where they rested palm down against her thigh, and froze when she shifted. Groaning softly, Lae'zel's clawed fingers unconsciously wrapped themselves around Shadowheart's smaller, chubbier ones, gentle with her even in sleep.

Shadowheart's breath staggered and caught in her chest, and considered letting herself hope after all.

[edwardslvrr]

kook princess’ birthday smau!!!! does rafe make a post orrr does he ward off people commenting on your post or both?? maybeee he lets u make a tiktok with some cute trend and post it to both ur acc’s?

PRINCESS'S BIRTHDAY ☆ rafe cameron

✦　　　.　　princess's birthday and rafe cameron is not ashamed of spoiling his girl and showing her off to the world.

AUTHOR TALKING -> yess, rafe for SURE posts her on her birthday (well his account is basically a fanaccount for her) and he’s ALWAYSSS in her comments telling people off, mr possessive or wtv tate mcrae said😌

WARNING -> mention of making out and slight description (not too detailed)

𓂃⋆.˚ rafecameron’s new post

liked by yourname, topperthornton and 2918 others

rafecameron happy birthday to my girl, thank you for wanting to spend your years with me. you look beautiful always, like the most perfect woman ever and I’m so lucky to be able to call you mine which I hope lasts in every lifetime.

happy 23rd babe ❤️

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yourname rafey you’re making me cry, thank you for another year of spending my birthday with you I hope I can do this again with you every year and every lifetime. I love you💕

⤿ rafecameron my gorgeous girl

yourname the flowers are too beautiful, thank you

randomguy wowza

⤿ rafecameron leave before i pull your eyes out

yourname never getting over this and you

sarahcameron rafe never ever fumble her istg

⤿ rafecameron it would be the biggest mistake in my life

⤿ yourname 🥹

jjmaybank damn yn😍

⤿ rafecameron get the fuck out before i cut your balls off

randomguy69 i’d smash

⤿ rafecameron i’d smash your head into a walk if you dont leave

𓂃⋆.˚ yourname’s new post

liked by rafecameron, yourmom and 2183 others

yourname turning 23 with you has been the most beautiful experience, thank you rafe for making me feel this loved.

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yourmom such a beautiful dinner, well done rafe🥹💕

⤿ yourmom thank you for making my girl so happy

⤿ rafecameron always ma’am. she makes me the happiest

⤿ yourname thank you for being there momma 💛

rafecameron such a beautiful woman, can’t believe youre mine

rafecameron will love you in every lifetime

⤿ yourname 🥹🥹

kiaracarrera everything looks so perfect!!

sarahcameron rafe put a ring on it

yourexbf beautiful

⤿ rafecameron hope the door hits you on the way out

yourbestfriend gorgeous girl, had the best time!! make 23 the best one yet💕

⤿ yourname happy you were there, & i will (with you!!)

“Rafey!” she shouts through their apartment, as she’s sat on the couch scrolling through TikTok. A cute tiktok idea popped up on her for you page that she desperately wanted to do with Rafe and since it’s her birthday how could he say no.

The door of the living room opens and Rafe appears, wearing a tight Gymshark shirt, which made Yn stare for a second before Rafe clears his throat looking at her with a smirk. “What’s up baby? Or did you call me here to stare at me? Not that I mind.” He winks at her, as she blushes.

“No, shut up.” Yn shyly says, but quickly brings her attention back to her original plan. “I found this cute TikTok idea, can we please do it?!” she kindly asks her boyfriend, giving him a slight pout to try and convince him.

“Babe.” He sighs. “do we have to?”

“You get to make out with me.” Yn smirks, as she notices his expression change immediately.

“Should’ve led with that.” He straightens up, getting ready for whatever she was about to do.

“Okay, so, lemme put my phone here real quick.” Yn excitedly gets up from the couch, placing her phone against a stack of books that were placed on the table. “So, you have to start off-camera, and then once it starts you walk into frame and bump into me.”

“Then I, like, push you away and then you grab me and make out with me.” The girl explains quickly, while looking at Rafe lovingly.

Rafe nods. “Sounds perfect, baby. Turn it on.” He smiles, pressing a kiss on her temple while she gets the TikTok set up.

Once the 3-second timer starts, Rafe gets out of the frame and waits until his cue. The music starts and Rafe walks into frame bumping into Yn, she stares at him confused and pushes him.

He takes a step forward and puts one hand on her cheek and the other on her ass, and he presses his lips on hers— Softly squeezing her ass as he makes out with her, making her let out a soft moan.

After hearing the moan, he pulls away and smirks. “Think the TikTok is done, baby.” He chuckles at her blushing face, completely in a state of shock from what just happened.

“Yeah, TikTok’s done.” She breathes out, turning around to her phone as she feels Rafe smack her ass once more making her bite her lip.

“Post it, princess. On both accounts, let everyone see you’re my girl.” Rafe whispers in her ear.

𓂃⋆.˚ tiktok comments

146 comments

username the hand position 😏

username i love it when hot people date hot people

rafecameron love my gorgeous girl

⤿ yourname my man💕

username this was hot icl

username wrong website guys

username outer banks’s it couple

username booktok wya

username gonna go take a walk now

TAGLIST -> @inthelibrarybtw @bradshawed @laniirackssss

TAGLIST -> comment on this post to be added to my rafe cameron taglist

MAIN MASTERLIST -> click here to see more

[irisluvsabby]

cam girl reader x perv abby

tw: this is terrible but oh well

cw: lesbian sex, strap on sex, abby is older than reader, oral sex, use of a vibrator, some aftercare? sex in front of a camera (livestream), and probably other stuff

you were a college student, studying art in 2025 and of course you were broke, the scholarship you got was nearly not enough for your daily expenses and an idea crossed your mind after a few videos popped on your fyp, why not start a cam girl career?

it's now been 3 months as a cam girl and honestly? best decision you ever made, you got at least 200$ for every stream and as an openly lesbian cam girl your followers were mostly girls, and older woman who were in an unhappy marriage. but of course you had a few favorites viewers who interacted with you the most and sent the most money of course.

amongst those, one of them stood up, a girl who's name you learned as soon as she hopped into your stream..

"fuck.. thank you guys for the donations.." you were fucking yourself with a vibrating wand on your clit, and your rule was, with each donations you would put the settings of the toy even higher. it was all fun and games until a certain 'muscle mommy abs' donated 100$.

"oh shit.." you moan as you turn the settings of your wand higher. "thanks 'muscle mommy abs', what's your real name?.. so i can moan it properly.." you tease with a smirk, trying to stay composed as the wand kept its assault on your clit, and as you were getting close to orgasm. then you see it pop up in the chat: "abby :)"

"fuck, please abby i'm gonna cum please can i?" you moaned, completely fucked out from the vibrations on your sensitive clit, then you saw it, abby saying something along the lines of "cum for me please." it felt so needy and desperate that it immediately threw you over the edge, cumming so hard for all of your viewers, almost squirting as you could feel the gaming chair you were on wet under you.

"shit- well thanks everyone, i guess i'm gonna end this live now and go and try to clean up, bye bye" you say before ending the live.

since that day abby has been attending every single live stream of yours, and always sending you some donations during it, hence to why she was one of your favorite, but aside from that she was just really cute

abby was a 27 years old mechanic who worked in an old crusty garage kinda lost in the middle of nowhere, but hey at least the pay was good. she's always been rather lonely true high school, and college. never had a proper girlfriend aside from some flings she's had in the past. but now that she had found her new obsession, you, a new cam girl she found online as she was just trying to get off, well there's no way that she's getting a girlfriend any soon now. abby attended your streams religiously, it was like the highlight of her day but knew that nothing else than that would happen.

until one day you made an announcement after one of your many hectic live stream; "oh my god guys by the way- wait let me get dressed-" you said before quickly putting on an oversized attack on titan shirt. "okay so, i was thinking, why not finding a way to reward my most loyal viewers right? well i though that one of you guys could maybe win a moment with me so we could live stream together?" you waited for approval of the viewers in the chat only to be met with most of them showing you their excitement in the chat.

ynsleftboob: god please make it be me i NEED to fuck you

minecrftellieee: this is the best day of my life

musclemommyabs: holy shit

behind her screen abby couldn't believe her own eyes , she actually had a chance to be with you for real. so she waited, mouth open, for you to give more details on the upcoming event. abby watched as you explained that there will be a poll and all the boring logistics before sending a link into the chat for your viewers to participate. and with little hope abby went in, filled the forms and agreed to a few terms she didn't have the patience to read before accepting.

the next few days, abby kept imagining what she would do if she actually won that event, how she would fuck you so good you'd only wanna come back to her, how she would appear on your stream and make all of the viewers jealous and how she was gonna be the one fucking you. she also took more hours at work to get more cash and buy a brand new strap on (just in case you know) and went to the gym in the little free time she had, just to get off to your videos when she got home, moaning your name and waiting for the day she would finally have you.

then saturday night came, the day of your weekly stream, but this stream was different, you wouldn't do anything really, just annonce the winner to your event, and that was more than okay to abby and probably all of your other viewers.

"oh my god hey guys!!" you said happily as you watched all of your viewers join the stream excitedly, and amongst them of course was abby, waiting for you to announce the winner. "okay i know what you're all waiting forrr" you teased with a wink, making the viewers act up in the chat. "okay okay- i'm not gonna drag this out but i just wanna say, i would've loved to make everyone happy buttt there is only one winner tonight" you smile.

abby was intently watching you, waiting for you to say the username that would get to film with you, she was hoping for it to be her but there was a little voice in her head telling her that was not possible. that was until, pulling her out of her thoughts, she heard your sweet voice, calling out her username.

"'musclemommyabs, im really glad to tell you that you're the one that's getting to spend a moment with me and will do a stream with me on here.. i also can't wait to see if your username is actually true"

abby felt her heart beat in her chest, that could not be happening. while she was trying to take in the fact that she was going to have you in real life, you were talking about how you're gonna send her a private text about the details, and before she knew it, the stream was over, and many people were still talking in the chat, disappointed about not winning.

it was now a few days later, abby was getting in her car to get to your place, which was thankfully only an hour away, she was making way too many scenarios in her head about how she was going to have you, which made the drive way quicker. when she got there, abby didn't waste a second to knock at your door, mentally preparing herself to actually see her biggest crush ever. and when you opened the door, she thought she was going to faint. there you were, wearing a soft pink robe that was clinging to your curves like it was made for you, and abby could see a bit of your pink lacy bra that was peeking out.

seeing abby in real life also made you nervous, she was older than you, taller than you, very very bulky and wearing overalls that were hanging loose at her waist, dirty security boots and a basic t shirt that made her look so good, just your type.

you couldn't hide your blushing as you welcomed her in and closing the door behind you guys. "omg hi abby, i'm so glad to see you, and you really do live up to your username." you said with a wink. with that a rush of confidence ran over abby "yeah you like what you see?" she asked getting closer to you and closing the front door behind her.

"mhm i love it.." you teased with a sultry voice, slowly undoing your robe, letting it fall on the floor, letting abby take in your brand new pink and white lingerie that you wore just for her. abby couldn't take it anymore, and fortunately for her, you knew what she was here for and vice versa. there was no more thinking when abby pushed you into the nearest wall, tilting up your head to put her lips on yours, finally, turning it into a heated makeout session as abby dominated the kiss, her hands were everywhere, you couldn't take it anymore as you ran your hands under her t-shirt, feeling her abs.

abby went down to kiss your neck, making you moan out and dig your nails into her back, abby moaning from the feeling of your acrylics on her skin. "abby- fuck.. bedroom please..". she quickly understood and threw you over her shoulder with minimal effort, which made you even wetter for her. when she found the bedroom, abby saw the place she's been seeing on her laptop for all this time in her life and couldn't believe it, she looked around for a few seconds before not wanting to lose any more time and putting you on your bed. but before abby could get on top of you, you stopped her "wait- turn on the stream please- cameras and all are already set up." abby got up with a groan before going to your laptop "how do i do this thing.." she whispered to herself before finally turning on the stream. "all good" she winked at you before crawling back on top of you and peppering kisses to your breasts as you tried to speak to the viewers. "hi guys- sorry we got a little carried away- fuck abby- um so yeah.." you stopped talking, going back to abby who was centimeters away from the place you needed her the most.

"abby please.." you begged, looking down at her. "please what?" she said, not even looking back at you as she was taking off your panties, she looked like she did not care a bit about your stream as she finally looks back at you, waiting for some more begging. "please fuck me.." you finally say, and she doesn't waste a second, licking a slow strip on your pussy, making you shiver. after a few seconds of teasing abby finally gets to it, eating you out like a starved woman and you couldn't love it more. she was sucking on your clit so deliciously, then switching to slide her tongue inside of you and rubbing your clit with her fingers, it was the best head you ever had and you were seeing stars.

"i'm gonna cum- fuck" you moaned, feeling yourself getting closer and abby couldn't be happier, "mhm?" she hummed almost as if giving you her approval and sending vibrations right to your clit, and that was it for you, you came on her tongue with a moan so loud your neighbors would probably leave notes on your door the next day. that didn't matter to abby as she kept sucking on your clit making your orgasm never ending and licking up all of your juices. when she finally stopped, you were breathless and abby had your juices all over the lower half of her face. what got you out of your "post orgasm" state was the never ending ding sounds coming from your laptop announcing new texts in the chat.

you squinted you eyes to check some of the messages

minecrftellieee: oh wow that abby girl can eat pussy

lesbiannmommy: should've been me 😔

ynswhore: how i wish i was the one eating you out like that

you smiled reading some of the messages. "you okay?" you the heard abby ask you, her hair was messy and she was still fully dressed. "mhm im great" you smile at her "but get undressed and fuck me for real now." "right away ma'am" she said before taking off her shirt and reaching for her bag to pull out her brand new strap. "bought this just for you, i hope you like it." she admits before taking off her pants, staying in her boxers and putting the strap on.

you couldn't help but blush, abby was this super hot, muscular older woman and she bought a strap on just for you, you might be falling in love right now. "fuck- you're so hot" you tell her as you watch her adjust the strap on her waist. she simply chuckled before getting back on the bed. "get on your hands and knees for me yeah? so your little viewers can really see your face while i fuck you so good you'll only remember my name". this made you even wetter than before, if that was even possible, and you quickly do as she says, putting your ass up and teasing her. "good girl.." she whispers as she gets some of your wetness to coat her strap with it, you were still sensitive so that gesture made you whine and buck against abby's hips. with that she saw how needy you were and decided to finally fuck you how you needed, she slowly sinks her strap into you, to not overwhelm you, and once she saw that you were okay, she rammed into you, hitting your g-spot so easily you didn't even know it was possible.

with abby's thrust into you it was impossible for you to stay on your hands and knees as your arms were already giving out. she quickly took notice of that and pulled you up so your back was against her chest, which made her thrusts into a different angle. "oh my god- fuck fuck abby" you whined as she fucked you so good you couldn't think. "you like that? i'm sure that feels better than all of your silly toys yeah? better when i'm there to take care of you." you whined as abby repeatedly hit your g-spot making it impossible to answer her, only whines came out of your mouth as she doubled her pace.

"fucking you so good you can't even speak yeah?" she chuckles as she kissed the back of your neck, and sliding one of her hands down to toy with your clit, and that was it for you, you came with a cry, shaking in abby's grasp, as she slowed down her thrusts, letting you ride out your orgasm. "abby- too much fuck!" she continued a few more seconds before stopping and settling you back down on the mattress. she gently caressed your back as she pulled out of you gently.

you then rolled over to get on your back, to see abby taking off the strap and going back to you. "you liked that?" she asked with a smirk, knowing already your answer. "hmm it was okay." you tease her with a wink.

after sitting up on the bed you look at your laptop to see that the chat is going crazy and you definitely beat your viewers count record, but you couldn't pay too much attention to that when abby found your favorite ever toy on your bedside table. "do you have a few more left in you? i'd love to use that thing on you after sawing you using it on yourself so much."

next thing you know, you were tied to the headboard as abby used your own vibrating wand on you, and for some reason, it felt way better than when you used it by yourself. "my god you're shaking, does it feel that good honey? you're going to cum yeah? come on cum for me." abby said, trying to make you cum one more time tonight. "no- abs.. it feels different wait wait!" you tried to warned abby but she upped to settings of the wand to the maximum, the vibrations being now way too much for you.

you couldn't handle it and you felt a strange sensation, like you were going to cum but way more intense. and before you could even stop yourself you were squirting all over the wand and abby, you couldn't help but moan so loud as the sensation was so much for you. "holy shit- that was so hot" abby was mesmerized, quickly turning down the settings to not overstimulate you.

when you finally came back to your senses you couldn't help but feel so embarrassed by what happened but abby assured you that it was the hottest thing she ever saw. you were still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm as abby brought you a towel to help you clean up before quickly turning off the stream, to the dismay of your many viewers.

"you okay?" abby asked as she kissed your forehead. "mhm yeah.. it was just so much but i loved it" you admitted looking back at her. "well, i'm glad.. i don't know if this is the right time but can i take you out for a date sometime?" she asked and you could see that she was nervous so you chuckled "of course"

[whatifitis]

♡ to build a home - LN 4 ♡

Summary: You're beginning to build a life with Lando. One of the steps you were excited for the most was building a home with him. So when it's time to finally start furnishing the house... let's just say we're glad everyone got to keep their fingers.

WC: 950

CW: fluff, two idiots in love trying to use their shared braincell..., not proofread

-=+=-

It’s finally time! A chapter in your life you were waiting for for so long. Not just building a life with your favorite person, but building a home with them too. You and Lando recently bought a home together and were excited to finally decorate it after having renovated it yourselves. 

The two of you (mainly just you) spent ages on pinterest and various furniture websites, trying to put together an aesthetically pleasing home that could also make the environment feel homey and warm, something Lando had lived without for so long, well, at least until you joined his life. From the day you’d met, his life suddenly seemed brighter and warmer, like he’d been living in a plain, grey world prior. 

After some conflicts and adjustments to the mood board, you both had settled on some furniture that you both loved. Some things were ordered to the house while the others were picked up in the store by you and Lando. Lando, of course, insisted on helping because 1. It could be some nice bonding time since he’s away a lot and 2. He’s a “Big strong man” who can help you carry everything… In other words, he was afraid another man would come to your rescue and steal you away. But that would never happen. 

As you awaited everything you’d ordered, your home still only held a mattress, Lando’s gaming set up and boxes that were filled with various objects. One of those boxes held your collection of books. Your collection grew through the years as you got older, the collection expanding a lot quicker since you and Lan had started dating. Everytime he traveled without you, he would stop by a bookstore and get you a book. Whether it be a special edition of a book or just something he thought you’d like, he always came back with one to add to your collection. 

“Baby.” Lando called to you, jumping onto the mattress where you laid. 

“Baby.” you reply. 

“I was thinking-”

Sitting up fast and gasping, “You can do that?”

Lando’s jaw dropped, “Rude?! You know what? Nevermind.” begins to stand up to walk away, hiding a smile. 

“No! Come on, baby. I was joking. Tell me what you were thinking.” you say, pulling his arm so that he falls over top of you on the bed. 

“Fine. Only cause I love you so much.” the man says, receiving several kisses from you that scatter his face. 

“I love you too. Now, tell me.”

“Do you wanna go to ikea? I know we ordered most of the furniture or we’re going to some stores in person but we need to get some bookshelves for your books. We can get to building them today and putting away the books.” he says, moving to stand, “That way we can clear a few boxes and we’ll have more room for activities.” he says as he pranced around the room, twirling in the air as if he was a dancer. 

You laugh at the show before you, being eternally grateful for his existence and the chaos he brings with him, “That sounds amazing, Lan. We can go now. That way we’re not up late trying to put together the bookshelves.” 

“How hard can putting together bookshelves be?”

-=+=-

Lando and you took the opportunity to enjoy the day to the fullest. The sun was out so you guys drove with the windows down, blasting some Taylor Swift and singing your hearts out to each other. 

Although the drive was fun, the same can’t be said for the adventure in Ikea… The two of you got lost for 5 hours inside of the Ikea. And don’t ask how, cause not even God knows how the two of you got lost, though it might have to do with the fact that you guys share a brain cell…

Eventually, with the help of an Ikea employee, the two of you made it out to the other side, half tempted to kiss the ground once you saw the sun again. 

-=+=-

Finally, after a stop at Mcdonalds for some dinner, the two of you were safe and sound at home, cutting open the boxes that contained the pieces of wood to build the bookshelves. As Lando was unboxing the pieces, he began throwing things about, not paying any mind to what was going where. 

“Lan, calm down. We’re gonna lose the instructions if you keep doing that.” 

“Pish posh. Who needs instructions for bookshelves? It’s easy. I built that desk myself with no instructions.” he says, pointing to the desk that holds his gaming set up… the most basic table to have ever existed. 

You put your hands on your hips as you exhale loudly, “Lan, that table has 5 pieces total…”

“And? I still did it. Ya know why? Cause I’m super smart and super strong. I don’t need the instructions… Now… where do we start…?” he says as he rests his hands on his hips, squinting as the mess of screws and panels of wood he scattered on the floor. 

-=+=-

Building a bookshelf was NOT as easy and Lando claimed it would be. Not only were the instructions missing, but Lando kept insisting he didn’t need them. You tried to help him but it felt as if the pieces kept moving on their own. You felt like the boys in the Maze Runner, trying to figure out the pattern of the maze changes every night. 

It’s been two hours since anyones spoken… so it startles you when he breaks the silence, “How… is the bookshelf… inside out…?”

“It’s 9pm… and we still haven’t finished the first bookshelf… we have 6 more to build…”

“FUCK”

[bambi-lamb]

promise kept

Summary: Three years after Wanda has passed away, you've moved on with a new life, new love, new home. The only thing is, old habits and memories tend to come creeping back in, and one ends up right at your bedside.

Tags: please be warned this one is Very Dark, wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, non-con/rape, adultery, manipulation, drugging and kidnapping, restraints, slight objectification (referring to reader as property), dark!mommy wanda, mommy/mama kink, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering

WC: 2,520

A/N: apologies for the long absence! i have been finding my footing writing again - consider this my ode to darkness and my girl

You blink awake, head still fuzzy with sleep. The room is dark, with only a pale night light to illuminate the edge of the nightstand. You can just barely spot the hazy outline of your phone and the small desk lamp. The rest of the room is swallowed up by the darkness of the new moon, so thick it's almost tangible.

You yawn quietly, eyes fluttering closed again as you lean back into the soft touch of your girlfriend, Sophie. If there's one thing you appreciate about being with her, it's that you always get to snuggle up to a warm body at the end of the day.

Just when you're about to doze off again, you see a glimmer of light and your eyes snap open again. You bolt upright, eyes narrowed as you try to make out where it's coming from. As you scan the room, you can't seem to see anything amiss, and you reach for your water to take a sip.

Before you can set your mug down, it falls out of your hand, clunking against the floorboards angrily and splashing water all over the hardwood. When you try to blink, it feels difficult and heavy, and when you try to force yourself to bend down and reach for the mug, your hands and arms rebel, falling limply into your lap.

Sophie stirs beside you, waking at the commotion. Everything happens very fast after that.

A shadow from the corner of the room suddenly moves into view, and Sophie is out like a light. You can feel your eyelids drooping and you lean back — how come you're so tired all of a sudden?

The very last thing you see is glowing red eyes and a sharp grin, softened by the faint glow of the night light.

You blink awake, head fuzzy. When you go to rub your eyes, your hands refuse to budge, and you realize your wrists have been bound together behind your back. Terror slips down your spine and you look across the room. You make eye contact with your equally terrified girlfriend in a similar state. She has more restraints on, her legs and torso duct-taped to the chair.

"Well, well, if it isn't the lovely couple."

The voice is terrifyingly familiar, and you turn your gaze to the third figure in the room. Wanda flashes her teeth at you, her grin absolutely terrifying, and you feel your blood run cold.

She waggles her fingers at you playfully, eyes still glowing bright red.

"Hi, detka."

Your vision shrinks down to Wanda and only Wanda as adrenaline courses through your body. You remember her promise now.

"I told you I'd come back for you, detka," she sneers. "And I keep my word."

"No, no no no you can't," you insist. "You can't."

"Clearly," she drawls, self-satisfied, "reality begs to differ."

"You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be dead."

"Is that the welcome I get? Good to know just how much you missed me, my love. And whoever said I was dead? You should pay more attention to where you're getting your information from."

"I thought— but they said—"

"Everyone thinks and says things, detka," she scolds lightly. "That doesn't mean they're all true."

"There was no body," you murmur softly, reality finally dawning on you.

"There you go, detka."

You startle in your seat as Wanda's voice echoes closer than you remember her being.

"So, are you going to introduce us then, baby?"

Wanda tilts her head in the direction of Sophie, but her eyes remain locked on yours.

"Um, this is my girlfriend. Sophie."

You swallow heavily, the pit in the bottom of your stomach yawning wide open with dread.

"Girlfriend, huh?" Wanda's voice is low and dangerous, but you shove past it and continue on anyway.

"Uh huh. And I love her."

Wanda's smile curls up threateningly, and you see her eyes flash as she finally turns to regard your girlfriend.

"Well, that's certainly a strong word, little one."

"It's the truth," you assert, clearly having forgone any sort of survival instinct you might have previously had.

"Is it now? Well, I'm sure we can find another truth if we dig deep enough, can't we, detka?"

You frown down at your lap, shoulders now aching as your restraints begin to take a toll on your muscles and joints.

"That's the only truth."

Wanda looks back at you, smile wiped from her face as she walks closer.

"I thought I taught you to behave better than this, my love."

"Well, I'm not yours anymore," you spit angrily. "So you better let us go and leave."

"Hmm, I don't think I will."

As you open your mouth to respond again, her hands are suddenly glowing red and you begin to float up, unable to move at all.

"What are you doing?"

You try to ignore the tremble in your voice — you are not scared. You have to stay composed to get Wanda out of here.

"Oh, detka, I'm sure you recognize what I'm doing," she smirks up at you.

"No. No, no stop. Stop it. Stop, you can't do this."

She smiles at you again, sharp and lethal, and brings you down closer to her.

"I can do whatever I want with my property, detka."

"I'm not your proper—"

You're cut off by her hands slowly unbuttoning your thin sleep shirt. You never sleep with your bra on, and you're regretting that habit now as the cool night air brushes against your nipples.

"Stop it. Stop doing tha—"

Sophie's voice is choked off, and you crane your neck to see that Wanda has used your sleep shirt to gag your girlfriend.

"She should consider herself lucky enough to watch," Wanda hisses.

When she looks down at your now-exposed breasts, her eyes soften, and you squirm uncomfortably in the grasp of her magic.

"Now, where were we?" Wanda murmurs softly, reaching out to brush her fingers across pebbled skin.

"Stop, Wanda. You have to stop this."

Wanda only hums absent-mindedly, squeezing your nipples between her fingertips and watching as they harden.

"Wanda, sto—"

You're cut off by your own whimper, stuck in the back of your throat as Wanda leans down to seal her lips around your right nipple. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, and you feel her grin against your breast. Before you can remand her again, she begins to swirl her tongue in soft, familiar circles.

Just the way you like it, isn't that right, detka?

You choke off another whimper before it has a chance to escape, shaking your head furiously.

Wanda pulls away, leaving your nipple glistening in the low lighting of the room. You hear muffled grunts and complaints and pleas from the other side of the room where Sophie remains tied to a chair, but you're too embarrassed to look back up at your girlfriend now.

"Stop it, Wanda. You have to stop now."

"That's alright, detka. So maybe you're a little out of practice. That's okay, my love. Mommy will make sure you remember your place," Wanda coos softly, sliding to her knees as she holds you in place.

Her fingers snap the waistband of your panties against your skin, and you shake your head desperately.

"Please, no. Please, Wanda. Stop it."

She presses a soft kiss to your hipbone, hands sliding your panties down your legs and letting gravity drag them to a heap on the floor.

"Please, Wanda," you beg, reduced to tears now as she kisses her way up your thighs.

Wanda takes a moment to look back up at you, smiling lovingly before leaning in again. She keeps eye contact with you now as she swipes her tongue between your legs, the touch of the soft, wet muscle making you tremble. You wish she would look away again, but her eyes only glow brighter as she spreads your legs wider.

"I missed how you taste, detka," she murmurs into your pussy, eyes lidded.

"Please stop, Wanda," you whimper desperately, tears dripping.

"That's mommy to you, baby."

"Mommy," you whimper pleadingly, wishing more than anything that you could just get your body to obey you again. "Mommy, please stop."

Wanda tuts disapprovingly.

"I'm sure that's not what you really want, detka, is it? Don't you want to feel good? Don't you want to come?"

"Please, Wanda. Please stop."

"Wrong answer, detka."

Wanda dives back in, tongue laving furiously across your clit as she holds you open.

You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood in an effort to keep quiet. The tang of iron spreads across your tongue as you choke down your whimpers and moans.

You can't like this. You're not supposed to like this. Every muscle in your body is hyperaware of your girlfriend Sophie, still seated across the room, but you're too mortified to look back up at her.

Although, you think that even if you did try, you doubt Wanda would allow you to look anywhere else.

"Mommy, please," you try again, desperate and panicked.

Wanda ignores you, a low rumble of pleasure vibrating through you instead.

She murmurs softly against you, mouth pressed to your pussy reverently. Her tongue swirls softly around your clit. The rhythm is so steady and so familiar that you can't help but moan, the sound slipping past your control and echoing around the bedroom.

Sophie stops struggling for a moment, and then begins to struggle even harder, muffled curses uttered loudly from behind her makeshift gag.

"There's my good girl," Wanda coos into your cunt, rewarding the noise with even more pleasure.

She seals her lips around your clit and every muscle in your body tenses up in preparation. When she sucks, long and hard, you hear yourself cry out, overcome with pleasure. You let your head hang limply as she continues her assault, alternating between sucking on your clit and making your legs shake and softly cleaning the arousal between your folds. It's the most torturous kind of pleasure you've ever felt.

"I can't— mama, I can't— you have to stop please," you babble.

"It's okay, detka," she shushes softly. "Just be good for mommy. Keep your legs open and everything will be okay, remember? You just have to keep your legs open and mommy will take care of everything else."

You whimper desperately, still shaking your head.

"Oh, come now detka, we both know you want this. Don't be a stubborn girl, my love."

"No mommy, please. Please stop. I can't do this, please," you beg again, finally coherent enough to muster up a little more conviction.

Wanda only returns to sucking on your clit again, draining every last bit of rational sense out of your cunt.

She moans against your clit, and you tremble again, desperate and uncontrolled.

"Please stop, mommy," you whimper.

To your surprise, she does finally stop, pulling away and licking her lips. You have to work very hard to contain your disappointment, biting your tongue as she stands back up. Your cunt aches and you're still turned on beyond belief. As soon as the lust begins to fade, though, you start to feel horrible. You weren't supposed to like that at all. Your girlfriend, Sophie, is still sitting on the other side of the room and is probably heartbroken.

Before your thoughts have any chance to unravel further, Wanda releases her hold on you, only to reposition you manually. She sits down in the chair you'd previously occupied and pulls you down into your lap, facing forward. Facing Sophie.

"That's okay, detka. Maybe mommy just needs to try something else, hm?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, shutting out the broken look on Sophie's face and trying to ignore the sensation of Wanda's fingers tracing your folds.

"Please, no," you whisper, unable to make any sort of real sound.

Wanda presses a single finger inside you and you can't help the way you clench down around the intrusion. You can hear Wanda chuckle behind you, smug and satisfied.

"Look at you, detka. Telling me no yet so easy to spread your legs and take my fingers in, hm? I can feel you squeezing down around me, detka. Do you want another?"

You shake your head furiously, tears welling up again as you feel your body betray you.

"I think you do, baby."

Wanda pulls out completely, and when she comes back, you can feel two fingers nudging at your entrance now. Both of you gasp when her fingers slide in all the way. Your eyes fly open and you catch a brief glimpse of Sophie's face before Wanda is tilting your head back for you.

"Oh, detka," she murmurs softly. "What a good girl, practically swallowing mommy's fingers, aren't you? Listen to how wet you are for me."

She thrusts her fingers in and out, and you feel your face turning red as you hear the wet squelch of your slick.

"How does it feel, detka? You're moaning so loud for me. Doesn't it feel good? Haven't you missed this?"

Wanda doesn't miss a beat, fucking you open with her fingers as she continues to talk at you.

"You can't even keep your mouth closed, can you?"

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin as Wanda's fingers piston in and out of you. With every thrust, you manage to eke out a choked moan, eyes rolling back in your head as she keeps you still with her other hand.

"Tell me you're mine. Tell me you belong to me. Tell me you're my property, detka," she insists, scissoring her fingers apart and stretching you wider.

You scream at the sensation, aching and desperate. Wanda fucks into you harder, pressing her thumb to your clit and making you jolt against her touch.

"Tell me, detka. Tell me who you belong to. Whose property are you, hm?"

You finally break, crying out as Wanda begins to rub her thumb in circles.

"Please, mommy, I belong to you. I'm your property, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"And who makes you feel better, huh? Who fucks you better, baby?"

"You, mommy, you. Mama, you make me feel so good please— you're the best I ever had—" you cry out.

Wanda presses a kiss to your shoulderblade, one hand pulling your hips down against her and the other between your legs.

She pulls out and presses back in with three fingers, stretching you so wide you see stars.

Her spare hand comes up to rub your clit instead, swirling in fast, little circles that are all too much.

"Come for me, detka. You can come now. Come for mommy," she murmurs softly, and your entire body seizes up.

Your vision whites out as you tremble around her, milking her fingers for all they're worth as you finally come.

When it's all over, you crumple into her arms, exhausted and overstimulated.

"I was wrong, mama," you mumble into her neck. "I love you always."

Wanda presses a smiling kiss to your forehead and a red glow closes your eyes for you.

"Good girl."

[lowkeyremi]

"Hi," His smooth voice greets over the phone. This is already a bad idea... you shouldn't have picked up the phone.

"Hello, Miya. Is there a reason you called?" Your voice sounds like ice to his ears; his end of the line went silent. He hates hearing that tone directed at him.

He shutters quietly, the sound makes your heart throb, "I'm not Miya. Not to you." Is all he can mutter. His voice sounds broken, more so then when you first answered his call. If he starts to cry, you'll lose it too. Everything is still too fresh in your opinion.

"I don't want to do this— not today." You whisper quietly into the phone. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you glance at things in your living room; the tv, the mug your best friend made for you, the blanket covering your lap, just anything.

"I miss ya so fucking much, please hear me out." Atsumu pleads desperately.

"We broke up for a reason," You offer, trying to remind him why this wouldn't be a good idea.

"Our timing was off— well mostly mine but, baby, I promise I'll always make time for ya." You've heard that before... it was when you first started dating him. Worry took over you, you'd wonder if volleyball would ever make him too busy for you; he reassured you that it wouldn't. Until it did.

"I-i can't go back to being second priority in your life." It was awful.

---

Atsumu had missed so much within your relationship, because he was always working and practicing.

Evenings were the absolute worst. All you had wanted was for him to enjoy meals with you, but you'd often have to set a plate aside for him in the microwave. You found yourself watching movies by yourself, showering alone, winding down for bed on your own, amongst other things. The loneliness started to get to you. After working all day, all you had wanted to see was the man you loved.

The worst part of it all was that he chose to leave you alone. His practices never really ran late into the evening, but he insisted on staying longer in order to perfect something he's been working on or hit the gym after practice.

It was always:

"Hey, baby, so sorry but I'm staying at the gym later than usual."

"Don't wait up for me, I'll be back late."

"Ya don't have to cook, just get takeout since I'll be home late."

"I promise I'll make up for lost time."

You could only handle so much of that. Your last straw was when Atsumu stayed at the gym late despite it being your birthday. You weren't even sure he remembered that it was your birthday.

You stayed up that night, giving him the benefit of the doubt. When he got home, he was confused as to why you were still up; that's when you snapped at him. He snapped back of course, arguing that if he wasn't playing at his best then he'd get behind.

The night ended with you crying, and telling him that you were done, with everything. He didn't believe you at first. Of course he felt bad for forgetting your birthday, but he didn't think it was major enough for you to break up with him.

It all started to get very real, when he came home to you packing up your stuff. He pleaded and begged you to stay, but you couldn't do it. How could you stay for him when he couldn't even see that he was in the wrong? Or try to correct himself for that matter. It was all about Atsumu, Atsumu, Atsumu.

---

Atsumu clears his throat over the phone and sighs sadly, "I understand. I still miss ya though. Didn't realize what I had until I lost ya."

Neither of you speak after his confession, but eventually, Atsumu breaks the silence.

"Well I, I just wanted to tell ya happy birthday, since I fucked that up last year." His voice is so quiet that you could barely hear it.

You were doing so well, keeping composed during this phone call, but hearing him say that caused you to tear up. He remembered your birthday. No, it's not enough to win you back, but it's a start.

"Thank you, Atsumu."

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites without my permission, thanks!

credit to: @uzmacchiato for the pearl banner!!

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Best friends orc dad maybe??? 👀👀👀👀

actually loved this so much i finished writing in my uber

older! orcs bf dad! x fem! reader Size difference, age gap, best friend’s dad, soft dom, rough sex, protected sex, oral (f receiving), size kink, praise, dirty talk, possessiveness, manhandling, breast worship, teasing, overstimulation (light), power imbalance , slight degradation.

words- 1379 words

You hadn’t meant for it to become a thing.

The late-night drinks started innocent enough — just you and him, sitting on opposite sides of the couch in their too-quiet lounge room while your best friend was out of town with her mum. Her dad, Rhogar, had insisted you didn’t have to leave early.

“I’m not that tragic,” he’d said with a tired laugh. “One uni student staying over isn’t going to ruin my midlife crisis.”

You’d laughed too, pretending you weren’t aware of how hot he looked under the dull warm light of the lamp. Orcish strength still clung to his broad chest and forearms, despite the years. The grey at his temples only added to it — a rugged kind of worn-in beauty. His tusks gleamed when he smiled, but it was rare these days.

His wife had left six months ago. You’d overheard enough late-night chats to know it hadn’t been pleasant.

Now it’s the third night you’ve stayed late like this. Same couch. Same two glasses of whisky. You sit closer this time, not touching, but the distance is different. He hasn’t shaved. The stubble shadows his jaw. You try not to stare at the way his throat works when he swallows a mouthful.

He sighs, deep and slow. “D’you always drink like this with your other mates’ dads?”

You glance at him over the rim of your glass. “Only the handsome, ones.”

He snorts into his glass, but the corner of his mouth pulls up. “You flirt like a girl with too much free time.”

You lean in a little, daring. “And you look like a lonely orc who misses being touched.”

That stops him. His jaw tenses. He sets the glass down with a clink, then looks at you. Really looks. You feel it in your chest.

“That funny to you?” he asks, low.

“No,” you murmur. “It’s not funny. Just… true.”

He looks tired. But not the kind of tired that wants to sleep. The kind that wants to be wanted. Maybe that’s why, when his hand lands on your thigh, you don’t move. His fingers are warm, heavy, calloused. You breathe in slow and steady, even as your skin tingles under the touch.

“You should go to bed,” he says, eyes fixed on your bare thigh under the hem of your shorts.

You tilt your head. “You want me to stop?”

His thumb strokes up, slow, tracing the edge of your skin. “I’m twice your age, love.”

You lean closer, heart thudding. “And I’ve wanted you since I was legal.”

Rhogar groans, almost pained. “You don’t say shit like that to a man who’s barely holding himself back.”

“Then stop holding back.”

The next moment happens fast. His mouth is on yours, rough and starved. You drop the glass to the carpet and it rolls somewhere under the table. His hands grip your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You climb into his lap, straddling his thick thighs, and moan when his tongue licks into your mouth. It’s messy, eager — weeks of tension snapping like a taut wire.

He pulls away just enough to breathe. “This isn’t right—”

“Rhogar,” you whisper, grinding against the thick bulge in his sweats, “I’m not your kid. I know what I want.”

He growls low, his tusks grazing your cheek as he leans back in. His kisses trail down your throat, nipping and licking, until your head falls back and your nails dig into his shoulders. His hands tug at your shirt, and you let him pull it off, baring your chest with no bra underneath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost reverent, taking in your bare tits. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“Good,” you breathe.

He doesn’t ask permission — not with words. But his mouth wraps around one nipple while his hand kneads the other breast, and you gasp, arching into him. His tusks press against your skin, grazing without piercing, and it’s enough to make you whimper. You can feel how hard he is under you — thick and pulsing, straining against his pants.

“I’ve thought about this,” you whisper, barely audible over your own panting. “Touching you. Wondered how you’d sound.”

His hands trail down to your thighs again, then slide up under your shorts and panties in one go. When his fingers brush over your soaked folds, he growls into your chest.

“This wet already?” he murmurs, rubbing your clit in slow, firm circles. “From sitting on my lap?”

You nod, mouth open in a soft moan. “Been wet all night.”

He slides one thick finger into you, then another, stretching you slowly. His breath hitches at how tight you are.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained. “You sure you can take me?”

You smile through a gasp. “You gonna make me?”

He pulls his hand out and licks your wetness from his fingers. That alone nearly finishes you off.

“Get up, love,” he says, and you do, legs shaky. He stands, looming over you, and tugs the sweats down. His cock springs free — huge, thick, flushed dark and heavy with need. Your eyes widen.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper, blinking.

He chuckles, cocky now. “Still want it?”

Instead of answering, you drop to your knees on the carpet and wrap your hand around the base. He grunts when your tongue licks the tip, then presses a kiss to the underside. You take him into your mouth as far as you can go, drooling around him, gagging when he hits the back of your throat. His hand slides into your hair.

“Fuck, you’re a little mess already,” he says, voice strained. “You’re filthy for me, aren’t you?”

You nod, moaning around his length.

“Look at you,” he growls. “Best friend’s sweet little girl… on her knees for me.”

You pull off with a pop, panting. “I want you to fuck me, Rhogar. I want to feel you ruin me.”

He hauls you up in one motion, lifts you like nothing, and walks you to the bedroom. Tosses you onto the bed. You’re laughing, breathless and giddy. He kicks the door shut.

“You’re too fucking pretty for your own good,” he says, crawling over you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You tug him down by the shoulders. “Then show me.”

He tears the rest of your clothes off — shorts and panties gone in one tug. He pauses just long enough to grab a condom from the drawer (you’re both grateful for his post-divorce “just-in-case” stash) and rolls it on.

When he lines up and starts to push in, your breath catches.

He’s massive.

The stretch is delicious, bordering on too much, but you want it. Crave it. You wrap your arms around his broad back and whimper as he sinks deeper, deeper, until your hips meet.

“You okay?” he murmurs into your hair.

“Better than okay,” you gasp.

He starts slow, grinding his hips in deep, fluid strokes. His body covers yours, all heat and strength and scent. You moan with every thrust, legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. “So tight. You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

“Good,” you whisper. “Lose it.”

His rhythm quickens. The bed creaks under you. The headboard bumps the wall. Your moans turn into cries, and his growls deepen, mouth pressed to your throat as he fucks you harder, deeper, rougher.

“You feel so good,” he growls. “So fucking good.”

You’re so close. The angle, the stretch, the friction — all of it builds fast and hot in your belly. Your nails rake down his back.

“Rhogar, I’m—!”

“I’ve got you,” he grunts. “Cum on my cock, love. Let me feel it.”

And you do — with a shuddering cry, your body clenches around him, white-hot pleasure rippling through you like a wave crashing. He groans as he fucks you through it, his own release following not long after, hips jerking as he cums into the condom with a low snarl.

Afterward, he collapses beside you, chest heaving, one big hand splayed across your belly. The sweat cools on your skin. You both breathe in silence for a while, staring at the ceiling.

Then, quietly, he says, “This doesn’t change anything.”

You turn your head. “No?”

He looks at you. “It changes everything.”

You smile.

“I was hoping it would.”

[pooklet]

If you're already set on the idea that you should be able to charge for content, this post is not for you, and I do not owe you a space on my blog to make your case lol.

This post came about as a result of seeing new community members who approach TS2 with a TS4 mindset and then end up absolutely floundering when the reception that they get is not at all what they were expecting. This post is not intended to convince anyone of anything, just to provide context for our unique community culture surrounding monetization.

But since you (people who are convinced of your right to sell CC, and think I am an appropriate soundboard for those opinions) will not stop being weirdos in my inbox:

As I said in the first post, no one can stop you from charging for CC. However, I can guarantee you that at least one of the tools you are using to make it has been provided to you on the condition that it not be used to make paid content. So if you go ahead and do that anyway, you have already broken the social contract, and whatever moral high ground you had has been ceded.

If you felt personally attacked by words like "simfluencer" and thought that was a cruel mischaracterization of people who charge for CC: I was referring to an actual person who actually stole someone else's CC to pass off as their own and actually has a merch store with #simfluencer stickers and hats for sale. Like, I didn't make this up lol. This is exactly the type of person I was talking about in this post, who is trying to achieve TikTok-esque influencer status in a community full of commie trilobites who couldn't give less of a fuck.

"I'm disabled, I can't work a regular job!" Same, and I'm so sorry we live in a world that devalues our contributions, that refuses us parity and kindness, that bleeds us dry of what little money we have just to try to maintain even a fraction of the quality of life that able-bodied people take for granted. I want a kinder world for you. I want you to thrive and succeed. I also know that, my own personal opinions on CC monetization aside, your battle to charge for your content in this specific community is so uphill as to be basically a 90° angle. Even if I was totally pro paid CC, it would not change the fact that the vast majority of people in the community aren't. I'm not saying "you should've picked a different hobby, you idiot, you fucking rube," I'm telling you that you have chosen one of the few remaining communities with a very strict socially-enforced contract against monetization in which to try to monetize and that is, objectively, not a good use of your time. Your skills are valuable, they are transferable, and if you want to make money doing something similar in a community that is more receptive to monetization, you absolutely can, and that would be a better use of your time.

"Artists should be allowed to charge for their work." Yep, for their work. But the work you do here isn't just yours. Here's a metaphor I've used before: if you're a fiber artist and you want to make and sell scarves, that's great! What's not great is finding a free pattern that very clearly states "do not use this for items you intend to sell" and saying to yourself "okay but it's my yarn and my time and I deserve to be paid for these scarves that I'm making, and I should be allowed to do it with this specific pattern." No one can stop you, but it does signal that yours is the only work that is of value to you, and you do not respect the wishes of the person without whom you could never have made those scarves. "They provided it for free, so I can do what I want with it" is exactly the selfish mindset that y'all are sobbing is a cruel mischaracterization.

"So you're telling me my contributions are worthless." No, I'm telling you to value the work of the people whose resources you are using! I'm telling you that the free-sharing ecosystem of The Sims 2 was established over 20 years ago, and that means that some of our most foundational tools were created by people with no-paid-content policies and if you do it anyway, you have broken the social contract. Whether you agree with that contract or feel it is outdated or unfair is completely besides point. If you do not respect the people whose work you're using, why should your work be respected? If you refuse to abide the policies of those of us who have asked you not to monetize our resources, why on earth should you be entitled to compensation?

A quick-ish guide to the culture of The Sims 2 modding community.

Are you new to The Sims 2 community? Are you coming from more modern games, either in The Sims franchise itself or other contemporary games? Are you excited to start your #brand and become a #simfluencer and post your #earlyaccesscontent to support your #sidehustle?

Have a seat, then! Let's chat.

Hello, friend! My name's Pooklet. I've been playing since 2004 and creating since 2007. I'm by no means an expert in most forms of content creation itself, but I've been around since the heyday of The Sims 2, I've watched how community opinions have shifted (or not) since practically the beginning, and I'm hoping to give you a basic outline of the community culture that you can expect to encounter as a newcomer.

A very brief history of Sims 2 content monetization:

People have been trying to monetize content since there has been content to monetize, all the way back in the days of The Sims 1. We tend to call them "pay creators" and their websites "paysites." Some big names in this arena include The Sims Resource (their free-with-ads model is a relatively recent development, which is why you will find people to this day calling them T$R), PeggySims, Newsea, and many others that you can find on this handy website:

Paysites Must Be Destroyed

Now, if you have a glance at that website, you might be saying to yourself:

"But, that's illegal! I own the copyright to my custom content!"

Alas, no! Due to the wording of the End User License Agreement for The Sims 2, no custom content creator owns their creations for this game (or The Sims 1, or 3, or 4, for that matter, but we're talking about 2 right now). It all belongs to EA at the end of the day, and by installing and playing the game, you have agreed to these terms. Which means you have no individual, protected copyright, and it is perfectly legal for someone to download your paywalled content and then reupload it for free for others to enjoy. And they will!

Furthermore,

You are not making anything alone.

Everything from modding resources, to tutorials, to the mods required to fix disastrous glitches in the game code and make it playable at all, to the third party programs used to make any and all custom content, such as SimPE—all of these have been provided to you for free by other creators, many of whom have a usage policy that asks that people not use their freely-provided tools to make a profit. Although no one can be forced to follow a creator's policy, it is generally considered good manners to not try to make a profit off of someone else's free work. And if you are using these tools to make paywalled content, that's exactly what you're doing.

Pay creators have been ignoring these policies since the beginning of time, and so free creators likewise ignore their policies against sharing their paywalled content. Pay creators have also tried lots of different ways to keep their content exclusive, everything from trying to track leaks with slightly altered files to actively filling their content with malicious code. It has never worked.

Free creators have always found a way around these barriers. In fact, it's taken as something of a challenge to undermine monetization efforts. As you can see from Paysites Must Be Destroyed, there are entire teams of players devoted to reuploading paywalled content for free.

A culture of sharing.

The Sims 2 is something of a time capsule. At 20 years old, it predates a lot of the hyper-capitalist hustle culture that has infested every creative hobby. It is from a time when monetization was an outlier rather than the norm, and a much maligned outlier at that. This attitude has persisted for 20 years. Believe me when I say, you won't be the combo breaker. Especially now, given that The Sims 2 is not the most contemporary in the series and the community has shrunk considerably, down to the people who have either been here for a very long time, or newcomers that understand the community culture.

Also, it's just kind of not a great idea in general to try to make money off of a 20-year-old game with a pretty small community?

Like, I get that The Sims 4 is really saturated with pay creators and it's hard to get a foot in the door. I get that you might look at The Sims 2 and think that the small pond will give you room to be a big fish. It won't. You might get a handful of people willing to pay for your content, but at least one of those people will be resharing it for free.

Paywalls vs. optional donations.

Okay, so hopefully you now understand why people don't like it when you put content behind a paywall. But what about those Ko-fi and Paypal donation links you sometimes see at the bottom of people's downloads? Why is that okay, but a locked Patreon tier isn't? Well, because they're voluntary. No one is obligated to pay for that content to be able to download and use it. It's just a way for someone who does have a little extra cash to basically "tip" a creator whose content they like. You have no way of knowing whether the person who posts those links is actually receiving any donations. And that's kind of the point. Whether or not they receive any donations, they are still sharing their content, because they enjoy the hobby of making and sharing content.

"I can't make a living off of that!"

No, you can't. Because that's not what we do here. That is not part of our community culture for all the above reasons. If you want to make a reliable income off of your hobby, you're going to need to get a different hobby. Try Second Life! That is a community that actively encourages monetization. The Sims 4 allows for "early access" monetization. There's options out there for you, if what you want is to make a profit off of your creations for a game.

"Fine, what about monetized link forwarding services?"

Link forwarding services historically have malicious trackers or viruses embedded. People will also strip those and provide direct links to each other. Or they just won't download your content.

"What if I want to make YouTube videos of someone else's written tutorials and I enable ad revenue on them?"

Personally, I still think that's a dick move. I love video tutorials, I'm a very visual learner myself, and although you might feel entitled to compensation for reciting the steps of someone else's tutorial into a microphone and then editing and uploading the video, you're still monetizing someone else's freely-provided content. I would consider this an 'ask permission' scenario, one in which you tell the person, explicitly, that you will be making ad revenue off their work. If they're fine with that, then you're good! (For the record, I'm not fine with that.)

edit: more of of my thoughts on monetized youtube videos over here.

"What if—"

Look, no one can stop you from trying to monetize your content, or worse, someone else's content. But you will have the exact same arc as every pay creator who came before you: your efforts will be undermined at every turn, your reception in the greater community will be chilly at best, and it will become a battle between you and the folks resharing free reuploads of your content until any fun you initially had making content is gone.

"The steady erosion of every known social safety net beneath the crippling weight of end-stage, line-goes-up capitalism and the yawning abyss of poverty over which I am dangling has imbued me with such anxiety that I cannot engage with a hobby that precludes monetization. I am exhausted. I know no other way."

I get it, friend! I have lived in poverty all my life. I do not begrudge the impulse to find a way to make passive income off of your every waking moment. Increasingly, it seems like that is the only way to survive! Unfortunately, you will not be able to do that with this specific community. We know that we have something special here, having resisted monetization's encroach for so long, which makes us fight all the more viciously to maintain it. You are entitled to try to find ways to supplement your income, just not here. Personally, I consider that a feature, not a bug.

Bonus Round: Remember, That's Not Just Yours!

I said it earlier, but I want to reiterate: you are not making any TS2 CC alone. You are making it with tools, resources, knowledge and code that people have provided on the condition that they not be used for pay content.

To use myself as an example, "my" hair textures are a blend of resources provided by other creators. Namely, Nouk's original hair texture was edited by Vintage D, which I then further edited over the years, using parts by the creators Ephemera and Helga. It would be extremely shit of me to say "well, I think that the time that I put into my edit is worth money, so I'm charging for it" when the edits that I made would not exist without the work of those people. And it continues on down the line with edits that other people have made of my texture blends and color actions, and the content they make with them.

(If you see someone charging for these, btw, lemme know. I'd love to have a talk with them.)

In closing,

The knowledge base, the resources, the coding required to make any and all working content for The Sims 2 has been compiled for 20 years. Please understand, I'm not trying to denigrate anyone's creativity when I say: you cannot bring anything wholly "new" to TS2 CC-making, something that uses no one else's resources or programs, something you can point to and say "no one helped me with that. I did it all on my own. It is my property." Nor should you aspire to! The fun of The Sims 2 community is to share and share alike, to credit each other for our contributions, to hype each other up and iterate on shared works and resources. We've been doing it for 20 years, and hopefully we'll be doing it for many more! Wanting to be a #simfluencer is utterly antithetical to the community culture. No one is influencing anyone else. You need to leave that shit at the door if you want to be invited in.

TL;DR:

Don't show up to the commie circle-jerk trying to charge for handjobs. We're already giving them to each other for free, and nothing about your wrist technique is special enough to justify the cost.

[poekaryote]

surprise! (on your birthday)

ft. dazai, chuuya, atsushi, akutagawa, poe, kunikida, nikolai

dazai.

you wake up to soft fingers tapping against your cheek, dazai crouched beside your bed with a grin too smug for this early in the morning.

“happy birthday, belladonna,” he says, voice still low and sleep-soft. “you’re older, wiser, and, dare i say, even more kissable.”

you groan and roll away. he follows, obviously, crawling under the blanket just to wrap himself around you like you’re his second skin.

“no escaping,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck. “it’s your birthday. i demand ten uninterrupted minutes of cuddling. medical reasons.”

when you finally sit up, there’s a gift on the nightstand—wrapped badly in patterned paper, sealed with far too much tape and a little doodle of you two holding hands. inside is a notebook: the first few pages are collages of torn sticky notes and receipts, little scribbles in his handwriting. quotes you liked. songs you hummed in the car. silly arguments. days you wore something he couldn’t stop staring at. there’s even a page that just says you looked so tired today. i wish i could’ve held you longer.

“you always say i don’t remember anything,” he shrugs, like he’s not blushing a little. “but i’ve been keeping track of the parts of you i never want to forget.”

you don’t say anything right away, but your fingers trace the ink like it’s something sacred. dazai doesn’t rush you. he just leans his head on your shoulder, eyes slipping shut, and breathes you in like you’re the only thing keeping him steady.

he takes you out later, too—somewhere quiet, where the wind moves gently and the city sounds small. he buys you a drink you like and holds your hand the whole time like he’s afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd.

“you made it another year,” he says when you’re slow dancing in the kitchen later, your cheek against his chest. “you really stayed. thank you for staying.”

and the way he holds you—like you’re not something to entertain him, but something that saved him—makes you feel like you might cry.

chuuya. 

when you finally wake up, the first thing you smell is your favorite breakfast—and the first thing you hear is chuuya softly humming along to the radio.

he’s already dressed, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back loosely with a strand still falling over his temple. the second he sees you in the doorway, he wipes his hands on a dish towel and comes over, warm hands cradling your waist.

“mornin’, birthday girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “go sit down. i’ve got everything under control.”

when you shuffle into the kitchen in your socks, he’s already set the table with too much food—your favorites, of course. there’s fresh flowers in a glass on the counter, and a little velvet box tucked beneath your plate.

“before you ask,” he says, pouring your coffee, “yes, i took the day off. no, you can’t make me go in. today’s for you.”

you try to argue—just a little shift, it’s fine, really—but he just raises an eyebrow.

“don’t make me take the whole week off just to prove to you it’s fine.”

he pretends he isn’t staring as you eat, but you catch him grinning every time you hum in satisfaction. after breakfast, he sits you on the couch and gently pulls you between his legs, his fingers already threading through your hair like he’s waited all morning to do it.

he whisks you away for the afternoon—somewhere calm, someplace warm. maybe a cozy little coastal town or a quiet vineyard outside the city. he planned it all ahead of time: your favorite lunch spot, a walk by the water, a bottle of wine already packed in the trunk. the car ride there is soft, windows down, your hand in his.

and once you have to go back home, chuuya gives you the prettiest, most caring evening possible. he lets you pick the music, runs a bath with those fancy bath bombs you’re always too stingy to use, and lets you fall asleep curled up on his chest when the sun starts to set.

you don’t open the velvet box until late. inside is a necklace—simple, beautiful—and engraved on the back is a few words: i love you.

he only winks when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“you’ll wear it for me, won’t you?”

atsushi.

he wakes you up with the softest kiss to your forehead, holding a little tray in his trembling hands like it might slip from his grip at any moment.

“happy birthday,” he says, barely louder than a whisper.

the tray holds toast cut into little stars, fruit sliced neatly, and a mug of tea with your initials drawn in foam. he sits beside you, eyes flicking nervously between your face and the tray.

“i didn’t know if it was… enough,” he mumbles, scratching his cheek. “but i wanted you to wake up happy. you always do so much for me.”

your heart aches a little. not because he didn’t do enough—but because he’s always afraid he hasn’t.

you cup his face and kiss his nose. “it’s perfect,” you say. “you’re perfect.”

his face glows red immediately. he stammers for a moment, then tucks his face into your shoulder, muttering something about how he’s trying not to cry.

he’s planned a quiet day just for you. a trip to the bookstore you like, where he follows you around with his hands in his pockets, smiling every time your eyes light up. he insists on buying anything you linger on, even if you say it’s too much. you end up sharing a pastry on a park bench, his shoulder bumping yours with every bite.

he takes you to your favorite view of the city just before sunset, wrapped up in his jacket while you sit on the edge of the railing. he stands behind you, arms curled around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“you make me feel like i’m worth something,” he says suddenly. “i want to make you feel that way too.”

you reach back and squeeze his hand.

that evening, he gives you a tiny, hand-wrapped box—taped like he was scared it would fall apart. inside is a silver bracelet with your initials on one side and his on the other.

“so you always know i’m thinking of you,” he says. “even when i’m not around.”

he kisses you so shyly that you laugh—and then you kiss him back so hard he forgets how to breathe.

akutagawa. he doesn’t say anything when you wake up. no smile, no kiss, just a box on the table wrapped in crisp black paper and a single, perfect white ribbon.

“you remembered,” you say, blinking sleepily.

“of course i did,” he mutters, looking away.

you unwrap the box carefully, and inside is a rare book you once mentioned months ago—one you thought no one else had paid attention to. it smells like old pages and something clean and soft. tucked inside is a note, written in rigid handwriting.

i know it’s not much. but you deserve beautiful things.

“aww!” you exclaim, clutching it to your chest.

he doesn’t look at you. he’s sitting stiffly on the couch, arms crossed like he’s bracing himself. “you don’t need to thank me.”

you walk over quietly and sit beside him. his body is tense. always is. but when you lean into him—when your head rests on his shoulder and your fingers lace with his—he exhales, slowly.

“i took today off,” he says. “you… deserve my time.”

you nod, quiet. he doesn’t say it’s hard for him to do that. he doesn’t need to.

you spend the day together inside, just the two of you. you read side by side, trade commentary between chapters, sit with your legs tangled up under a shared blanket. he lets you braid his hair while he grumbles softly, but doesn’t stop you. he even makes tea for you, carefully steeped, and doesn’t look you in the eye when he sets it down.

in the evening, you coax him outside to the balcony, the two of you huddled under the same coat as you watch the city lights.

“you always make the world feel less loud,” he says suddenly. “i didn’t think people like you could love people like me.”

you feel your chest twist when he says that, a little bit of guilt.

you kiss the corner of his mouth, and he finally allows the smallest smile to curl at his lips.

“happy birthday,” he murmurs when you’re curled up in bed, his fingers grazing the inside of your wrist. “i hope you know i meant all of it.”

poe. you wake up to the sound of scratching pen and the faint smell of ink, sunlight barely spilling through the curtains.

he’s already awake, of course. he’s been awake for hours, sitting at his desk by the window, dark hair falling softly over his collar as he works by candlelight—despite the morning glow, despite the working lamp. he always says candles make the moment feel more real.

you sit up, groggy and warm, stretching your arms. he hears the rustle and immediately turns around.

“you’re awake,” he says, already smiling. “perfect timing.”

you blink at him, rubbing your eye. “for what?”

he gestures vaguely to a tall, ribbon-bound stack of paper on the edge of his desk. the pages are thick and slightly uneven, like they’ve been handled carefully—precious. you recognize the neat scrawl immediately. poe’s writing.

“i… wrote something,” he says, voice a little shy. “for your birthday.”

you walk over to the desk and untie the ribbon with care, the ends slipping like silk between your fingers. the cover is plain—just your name in delicate gold ink—and your throat tightens before you even open it.

the first page reads:

“chapter one: everything makes sense now.”

you flip slowly through the pages, heart catching on the details. it’s not just a love story—it’s a record. your story, written with the kind of tenderness that makes your chest ache.

every small moment he’s stored away is here. the way your voice softens when you're nervous. how you always glance at your hands when you’re thinking. the quiet little hum you do when brushing your teeth. things you thought had passed unnoticed are etched into paragraphs, surrounded by metaphor and moonlight.

you look up. his eyes are already on you, watching carefully.

“you wrote me a novel,” you whisper.

he smiles bashfully, a modest denial of its seriousness. “well. novella, technically.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

he stands and wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his cheek to the side of your head.

“i wanted you to know how i see you. even if my words fall short.”

he kisses your temple, and you close your eyes.

the rest of the day is filled with quiet things. hot tea. lemon cake. a walk through the park with karl tucked into your coat. you sit in the garden and read together, his shoulder warm against yours, fingers twined loosely.

at night, he brings you to his study library, which he’s filled with fairy lights just for the evening.

you kiss him once, then twice, then again, and when he pulls back, his hands are cradling your face like you’re something he’ll never quite believe is real.

“happy birthday,” he whispers. “my favorite story.”

kunikida. you think something’s wrong at first.

kunikida isn’t pacing. he isn’t checking his planner. he isn’t dressed in work clothes or going on about any schedule. he’s still in his pajama pants, his glasses slightly askew, and when you sit up in bed, he looks at you with a soft smile like he’s been waiting all morning just for you to wake up.

“…hi,” you say, unsure.

“good morning,” he says, brushing your hair back. “and happy birthday.”

you stare at him. “did you… take the day off?”

“yes.” he squeezes your hand. “i moved everything to tomorrow. don’t worry—it’s all been accounted for.”

you raise a brow. “even the expense reports?”

“even the expense reports.”

he kisses your cheek, slow and fond, then pulls you into his chest like he doesn’t want to let go.

“you always make time for me,” he says softly. “even when i’m ignorant. so today, i’m making space for you.”

breakfast is perfect. like something from a café, but better because it’s from him. he fusses over every plate, even folds the napkins, but he’s less tense than usual. he lets you laugh at him when he spills some syrup on himself. he smiles more today. not the tight, polite one he wears at work—but real, relaxed.

he takes you out to a flower field he’s had bookmarked for months. he tells you it’s “not very practical,” but when he sees the way your eyes light up, he admits he’s glad he brought you.

“you’re going to be late on your schedule,” you tease.

“you are my schedule,” he says. and it takes you a second to realize he’s serious.

back home, he gives you a leather-bound journal with your initials embossed on the front. it’s beautiful. when you flip through it, the first page has a message in his tidy handwriting:

“for you—so you can take note of anything that makes you smile.”

you look up, and he’s already watching you with something soft and warm in his gaze.

“you deserve a day where everything goes right,” he says. “so i made that my goal.”

you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his chest. his hands stroke up your back, and he kisses the top of your head, whispering:

“happy birthday, my love.”

nikolai. you wake up to glitter.

literally.

there is glitter on your cheeks. on your pillow. in your mouth.

“happy birthday, my lovely!” nikolai shouts, appearing upside-down in your doorway, hanging halfway from a ribbon suspended between the ceiling beams. “do you feel blessed by the sparkles of joy and capitalism?”

you groan, spitting out a sequin. “why are you—what is—did you decorate the entire house while i was sleeping?”

he drops to the floor in a swirl of red and gold fabric, landing perfectly on one foot. “of course i did! what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t turn our humble abode into a circus of affection?”

he throws his arms out, gesturing to the hallway behind him.

streamers. balloons. floating birthday candles suspended mid-air. there’s even a cardboard cutout of you in the kitchen wearing a crown.

“i made you breakfast!” he adds, beaming. “it’s only slightly burnt.”

you raise a brow.

“...okay. very burnt. but it was made with love. and maybe some fire.”

you sit up slowly, still brushing glitter off your sleeves. “you are insane.”

he pouts, placing a hand over his heart. “and yours.”

he drags you around the house, narrating every tiny decoration like it’s part of a grand exhibition. he’s added your face to playing cards, painted little signs with dramatic phrases like “THE ONE PERSON WHO MAKES ME WANT TO STAY,” and even wrapped his left leg in a bow—“gift-wrapped for your convenience!”

you can’t stop laughing, even as you complain. “you’re ridiculous.”

“thank you!” he grins, proud. “and now: your main event!”

he pulls you toward the living room, where a single velvet chair has been placed under a spotlight.

“sit,” he commands. “and prepare for—”

“nikolai, please don’t start juggling—”

“—THE BIRTHDAY MONOLOGUE!”

you watch, a little helpless, a little charmed, as he steps onto a small crate and throws his cape over one shoulder. he clears his throat dramatically.

“ahem. on this day, many years ago—an angel was born. and tragically, had no idea that she would one day be forced to love a war criminal slash magician. but alas! fate is cruel. and love is real. and so—here we are.”

you giggle. he smiles softly.

“you make me feel,” he says suddenly, no longer performing. “you make me want to feel. and that’s not something i ever thought i’d say. not really.”

your heart skips. he steps off the crate and kneels in front of you, resting his head on your knees.

“i’m not good at birthdays,” he murmurs. “but i hope this was okay. i just… wanted you to know you’re the only thing i’d ever celebrate this loud.”

you run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently until he closes his eyes. his hands rest on your thighs, warm and still.

“i don’t need the glitter,” you whisper. “just you is enough.”

he exhales, like it physically relieves something inside him to hear it. and when he looks up, his eyes are soft in a way he doesn’t let anyone else see.

“…then you’ll have me,” he whispers back. “forever. for every birthday. every year.”

he kisses your hand, then your cheek, then your shoulder. he’s still wearing confetti in his hair.

and you’re still glowing from the inside out.

[rasberrybabez]

Baby Bump

Simon has made plenty of mistakes in his life, one of them being leaving you for another hookup. But when he shows up again, baby in hand and a duffel bag in the other, what can you do?

Because even if that baby isn’t your, it certainly feels like it is. Only when Simon’s there.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Tags: technically baby trapping, parenting, single parents/co parents, reference to parental neglect, details relating to breastfeeding, pregnancy symptoms, smut (eventually), reference to previous injuries during intercourse (not between characters), tension that doesn’t quite count as angst but is tense enough to raise some eyebrows, second chance romance 🩵

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

XoXo-Razz.writes

The next week was a blur.

Simon and you were tense at first, of course. Living with your ex and his son that isn’t yours, what else did you expect? But slowly, through those fateful seven days, you grow.

And seven turns into more.

You and Simon had sat down on the couch at the end of those seven days, the sun setting outside your window and casting a soft yellow hue over everything. A glass of wine in your hands, a mug of tea in Simon’s.

Soft silence fills the room, Simon sipping his tea. Watching you as you watch the sun sink lower and lower over the horizon.

And then he speaks.

“…I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

You look up, hair slipping from your messy bun and falling over your face, lashes fluttering in surprise. Simon is still staring at you, studying you. And you swear you can see his hands tighten on his mug, tension coiled in his body.

You clear your throat. “…thank you, Simon. I-It doesn’t fix things… the way you left it. But I appreciate it.”

Curse you and how easily you have in. Simon left you for another woman’s kid, and fuck does that hurt. It burns your soul up like some sick little pyre of his love. The love that’s long rotted and decayed, some discarded scarps of meat not good enough for a sacrifice.

Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s just you and the way you cling to him in the last few weeks of what used to be. The way you wanted more because you swear he did too.

You take a sip of while, trying to swallow the harsh reality that’s been crippling you for a week now.

Simon sips his tea again too, and you’re both back to silence.

“…I loved you when I left, Sunshine. Fuck…” Simon takes in a shaky breath, hands trembling and mind screaming with the words he can’t say. I still do. “But I din’ want to let Kai down… before ‘e was even born. My dad had eighteen fucking years to make himself better for me and Tommy, and ‘e went and fucked it all up.”

You pause as soon as the word love leaves his mouth, hands stilling on your wine glass. Simon meets your eyes, soft hazel and rimmed with the same deep brown as his morning coffee.

He loved you.

“…kind of shitty to tell me now, Si.”

he clears his throat and nod. “I-I know… just thought you should know. That I didn’t want to leave you… that you were never really just a hookup. Not at the end.”

You nod again, taking another sip of wine, and another. Until your glass is empty.

Simon Riley tends to up your alcohol consumption.

“…you’re not like him, you know that Si.”

You say after a few minutes of more tense silence. Over the years, Simon has told you more and more about his father. Opened up in the soft nights that you had together, wrapped your hair around his fingers as he whispered in your ears.

Told you that not all the scars he had were physical, not all of them from the military. That deep down, a little boy had gotten hurt first. A little boy that was scared that every time he drank, he would hurt you. Stayed away from alcohol unless things were bad, never smoked around women.

And you had listened.

“…I think I am.”

Simons voice is so hoarse it surprises you. His hands have a deathly grip on his mug, and he looks so damn stressed it makes your heart clench. He looks desperate.

“…Kai don’ have a mom, sunshine. I’m livin’ in the spare bedroom of the woman whose life I fucked up, and my kid has one failed fucking parent.”

“Simon-”

“No. You know it’s true.” Simon stands from his seat, brushing off his pants and walking swiftly to the kitchen. You hear the sound of the sink turning on, and his mug being set onto a dirty plate. “You know I’m a fuck up. Kai doesn’t have a stable place to live, I’m strugglin’ to find a job, I can’t *work* with a babe that small, I just-”

“Stay.”

You say, one sharp word with a shaky breath. Wine glass clenched so hard in your hand that you’re scared it will break. Curse your stupid heart and curse that part of your mind that still loves Simon Riley, and is slowly starting to love his baby like the gift he is.

Kai sleeps quietly, in a cot next to Simon’s bed, down the hall from yours. He sits on the rug and coos as he shows you his toys, his favorite one a soft, plushie dinosaur. He can’t walk or crawl, but he can babble.

He nestles into your breasts when he’s hungry, paws at them like he knows he wants food from there, like he knows that some mother has to take care of him. Simon watches as you feed him, a sense of awe in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

So you shouldn’t be surprised when you let your thoughts slip out your mouth, but you’re too far gone now.

“…you know I can’t. We agreed a week, this is your damn house-”

“Stay, Si.”

“No, sunshine. We can’t-”

“Simon.” You say sternly, standing from the couch and turning around, locking eyes with him and where he stand in the kitchen. “Stay. You said it yourself, you can’t raise a kid out on the streets with no job. So stay, don’t go bouncing around from couch to couch, you have everything you need here. Get a job, rent a place. Then you can go.”

“Sunshine.”

“I’m not arguing. And I’m going to feed Kai.”

Within the next two months, you and Simon work out the kinks in your relationship. Not fast, just day by day. Learning to work with eachother, instead of around.

And when Kai starts crawling? You crash into eachothers arms like it’s normal again. Simon presses a kiss to your forehead, laughing with you as Kai food from the ground. Claps his hands happily, giggles like he knows what’s going on.

Simon starts taking you out for dinner, Kai strapped into the little buggy that he can push around. You three sit at the table like a proper family, and somehow, you start to feel like one.

Whilst you look over the menu, Simon passes Kai one of his stuffed toys. A little bluebird that you picked out, one that Simon noted looked like the color of your soft blue door.

You have to admit he’s right.

You scan the menu, sighing and biting your lip as you look over the options. Simon is watching you, like he always does, a cautious eye studying the way you move. The way your nails tap against the side of the table, thinking.

Fuck, you’re as beautiful as the day he left.

He regrets it more than he should, leaving you. He loves Kai… and he’s trying to be there for him, he is. But who was there for you… was there anyone?

He clears his throat, and you look up.

“You never told me… never told me what you did. When I was gone.”

“When you left.” You correct him, looking back down at the menu. You could go for some fish and chips right now, for sure. “And what do you mean?”

Simon clears his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck. Kai starts to chew on his plush.

“Yeah… yeah, I know… I mean like, did you have a boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend?”

You freeze, narrowing your eyes as they dart up to Simon. He looks out of place and awkward, more so than you’ve ever seen him before. It’s almost… laughable.

“If I had a boyfriend, you would have noticed by now.”

“Right… um-”

“And I got with one guy, the night after you left. Got drunk, fucked a stranger like it would save me from having to think about you, and didn’t go for it again.”

Simon nods, picking up the menu after you, and looking over the options. Fish and chips… nice. “…why not?”

“I got hurt. Tore something… my lining, I think? I’m not sure, but I-”

“He hurt you?”

You look up, your nonchalant attitude starkly different from the way Simon has frozen in place. Stopped, muscles locked and jaw ticking with the force of his teeth. Your brows furrow, because you can read Simon like a book.

He’s furious.

Some fucker touched you, and that could be excused given Simon’s behavior. Was he happy about it! No.

But the fucker hurt you? Hurt you in a space only Simon wanted to be in?

“It was just an accident-”

“He could have killed you.”

You scoff, the crease between your brows deepening as you frown. Your arms cross, and the waitress notices your table. You’ll have to talk quick.

“it’s sex, not deadly-”

“But it could have been-”

“Hey! What can I get you two eat and drink?”

You both pause, simmering at each other in a slow burning sort of anger that sinks in a haze across the booth. You brush off your old injuries in a way that Simon hates, and he digs them back up with an intensity that you despise.

The waitress is oblivious to your obvious tension, all happy and smiling. Simon clears his throat, rubbing his temples and glancing back at the menu.

“Fish and chips.”

“Fish and chips.”

Your voices overlap with the same words, making your focuses shift to eachother. Simon’s harsh gaze softens slightly as the waitress nods, and Simon orders a cup of fruit for Kai, in case he wants to try some.

When she leaves, you’re left in a tense silence, Simons gaze taking up and down your body. You’re not wearing something overly dressy, just a pair of jeans and an oversized shirt. It might be his, having ended up in the wash in a recent load.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“…I’m sorry. I overstepped, that’s not…” his hands clench, and his jaw ticks. The eyes previously tracing your figure drop down to the table. “That’s not my place anymore.”

You nod, sipping on one of the glasses of water in front of you, unsure if it’s yours or Simon’s.

“…thank you.” You sit there in another beat of silence, Kai cooing softly and patting his hands against his high chair tray. An unusually quiet baby, you think suspiciously. And this time, it’s you who breaks that quiet, your voice soft.

“…this all feels… weird. It’s new, but at the same time it’s just like… before.”

Before.

What a small word for how heavy it feels in your chest, settling down like a dead weight. The way you used to know Simon, talking and laughing in the kitchen still in your sleep clothes, early mornings and late nights pressed up against the counter.

Now you both laugh as you try to feed Kai, popping your new vitamins into your mouth and making that face Simon loves at their taste. The soft bumps and touches against exposed skin in the haze of the morning, Simon running off to job interviews and you running around late for a work call.

The little gifts Simon litters around now. Flowers, no longer the roses you used to know but baby’s breath and lilies, sweet and soft scents that match the coziness of your flat. Tidying the kitchen before your home, keeping a pad full of everything you’ve ever ordered from takeout places, so that he knows the best meal for the two of you.

“I don’t know what this is, Simon. C-Co-parenting a kid that isn’t mine with my ex, letting him-you-live in my spare bedroom. And I love Kai-” like your own son, you realize. The little boy has imprinted on you in more ways than one, but you don’t say that. “-and he’s a sweet boy, but don’t you understand how it is-”

“Sunshine.” Simon says, and suddenly his tough hands are on yours. You don’t realize how panicked you’ve gotten, all worked up into a tizzy with a messy mind and trembling hands. Simon meets your eyes, and slowly your body starts to relax. “It’s not normal. I know… we’ve never been normal. You were never a normal hookup to me and I coped with it by hookin’ up with the first pretty lass I could find.”

He swallows hard, glancing at Kai as his hand tightens on yours. He’s never bared himself open to someone like he has to you, never let someone love him or his son like he’s let you.

“I don’t regret Kai… how could I? Look at the lil’ man, he’s a looker.”

That forces a shocked giggle out of you, your lips suddenly quirking into a slight, reflexive grin. Simon meets your eyes again, his own smile soft and… somber.

“…I regret you thinking he’s not as much yours as he is mine.”

Simons words bounce around in your head like a marble, rolling and clicking against the sides of your skull as you try to wrap your mind around it. The words he said so casually that mean so much, that make your heart race as you look at the little boy at the table.

Kai goggles up at you, reaching out for you. The woman who now, is helping to raise him. The one he won’t have to remember as some co-parent stranger.

To Simon, you’re already his mum.

“…I don’t deserve you, Sunshine. I never will. But I’m willing to try and be the man I want to be for you, because I won’t let one fuck up define us. I still love you.

You can’t breathe. Someone had to shut of the oxygen supply to your body because there’s no other reason why your lungs shouldn’t be able to expand, just from a few words.

Four words, that shouldn’t exist. It’s too much, it’s sending your mind into a detrimental spiral of spinning and overwhelming and convulsing. You can’t process it, no normal person should be able to.

You need to breathe.

You’re out of the booth before you can register, hands grabbing your bag. Hurriedly, as Simon’s eyes go wide and the realization slowly sets in, his shoulders slump. He can’t do anything but watch you, he can’t overstep. He can’t say anything because at the end of the day, he’s the one that fucked up.

You grab a twenty from your bag, throwing it on the table. A ten too, for good measure as you back away with shaky steps.

“F-for the food, I’m sorry-I need air-I-Sorry-”

you can’t force anything else out as your vision blurs, and you push onto the street. The brisk evening air hitting your face, flushing your skin with the contrast of your heated body and frigid sky.

And you sprint, as fast as you can, to the train station.

˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･-Taglist:

archy25, despairinglakepasta, coolvoidfire, daydreamsarerealineed, magicwriterinspo

[pheastinyworld]

i'm going home ❀•°•───────•

request: have you seen the trend of telling your bf you want to go home when hanging out with Gabe

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: got randomly suggestive towards the end, sorry guys, my fingers just started typing

author's note: thank you for the request ceci!!! also, this is kinda set around two years from now so creative liberties were obviously taken.

| phe's main masterlist |

it was just before winter break and gabe was already two years into signing with the rangers. he had decided it was time to move out of the hotel room he shared with brennan othman and brett berard. 

when gabe told you he was signing, you were over the moon but part of you was worried about how the distance would affect your relationship. you had practically been together since the very start of college, meeting in french class two weeks in, and dating by the next month. 

but if anyone could make it work, it was going to be you two. so you agreed to do long distance until you both graduated; gabe coming back occasionally so he could finish off his exams.

it only felt difficult when you had gone long periods without seeing each other, but it never put a great strain on you two. constant meaningless texts about his day made you feel less alone, and in turn, your nightly long rants over the phone to him about your horrible study schedule always put him at ease.

it wasn't a question for you to apply for jobs in his city, and once you received an acceptance email, you were on a plane and surprising him at his hotel the day later. from then on though, gabe knew he was going to have to move out, he didn't really want to share the same space with his teammates and his girlfriend. so you both agreed to rent out an apartment not far from where he was staying anyway. 

it wasn't crazy big, but it was more than enough. amongst your busy schedules, the shared apartment was a place where you could just be together and relax. and that's what you were doing right now. legs draped across his lap as a christmas movie played on the screen. but you had seen this movie too many times before and had begun to grow bored, thinking of ways to get whatever reaction out of gabe you could pull. 

you remembered a funny trend your friends had sent you and immediately thought it would be perfect. you got up quickly, telling him you were just getting more popcorn when he whined at your movement.

after setting the phone up to the side of the sofa, trying to be as discreet as possible, you made your way back to him, dropping down to his side. you felt his arm that was resting on the back of the sofa pull you against him as if it was possible to get any closer. 

“gabe?” you spoke up.

“yeah baby?” he hummed out, leaning down to press a small kiss onto your hair.

you closed your eyes and pursed your lips closed, already wanting to laugh at him. calmly you spoke up, trying not to give anything away, “you know… i think i’m gonna head home.”

“huh?” is all he got out, moving his hand up to your cheek to turn your head towards him, looking all confused. you glanced at him, his brows knitting together as his lips pressed into a thin, uncertain line that turned downwards at the ends. “what do you mean? where’re you going?” 

you nibbled on your nails in an attempt to hide a smile you were desperately fighting against. “home.” you reiterated, “i’m going home gabe.”

poor gabe was so lost, his brows furrowing even more now. “so, you actually are home…? i’m so confused.”

you huffed out, pinching the bridge of your nose which made gabe feel like he must’ve done something to piss you off. he scanned your face frantically, eyes darting around as if he was going to find the answer on his face. had he said something? what had he said that was so bad that made you want to leave your shared home?

“did i do something to upset you.” he asked sweetly, words delicate so as to not make you more annoyed. oh great, now you felt horrible. “baby, i promise i can’t think of anyth- is it because i asked if you wanted to spend christmas with my family this year? you want to go back to your home during christmas? thats fin-”

“no.” you stated simply, shaking your head, shifting so your body was facing him before you drew your knees to your chest, hugging your legs. you actually surprised yourself with how upset you could act. “i just want to go home. like now.” 

gabe blinked, face dropping at how upset you seemed. he didn't know what to do, he just wanted to make you feel better no matter what was wrong. 

“hey hey,” he whispered softly, still wearing a sad frown as he scooped you up into his arms and placed you on top of him, your legs moving to straddle his lap. “what’s wrong? what home are you talking about? can you tell me what’s gotten you all upset, i promise if i know then i can help.”

pouting your lips, you sighed as he squeezed your sides reassuringly, looking at you with wide eyes and very concerned. “i don't know, i just feel like i should be at home. 

gabe’s mouth opened like he was going to say something. honestly he wanted to say ‘i have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about’ but he restrained, too nervous that it’ll just make you mad and you’ll stomp off to the spare bedroom. “you- i really don’t know what you mean. we’re at home.”

“no. home home.” you rolled your eyes as if it was obvious, trying so hard not to smile at his look. he was in utter disbelief. had you hit your head?

“you’re at home home.” he gestured his hands around the room, looking around as if to check that you two had not magically teleported somewhere else, “i’d like to think my contributions to the interior design choices made this place feel homey enough.”

you let out a small huff, not saying anything in case you started laughing. gabe knew you well enough to sense you were on the verge of smiling. the thing is, he thought it was because he was making you feel better, so he proceeded to try and lighten your mood. 

“did you hit your head on door getting the popcorn?” he grinned just a little, hand coming up to press against your forehead, “should we go to the doctor, you’re a little warm actually. you must've hit your head, huh?”

you swatted his hand away, finally letting out a string of giggles, dropping your head against his shoulder. you were for sure not going to last any longer, despite very much enjoying him looking all clueless and upset. 

“sorry, sorry, it was a joke.” you lifted your head and gabe’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. 

“don’t do that! i seriously thought you were trying to tell me you were moving out.” gabe grumbled, complaining, but his grin told you he wasn't annoyed at all. 

“i would never.” you pressed a firm kiss upon his lips to punctuate your statement, “you’re totally stuck with me.”

gabe smiled, eyes dancing in mischief before he began to tickle your tides making you yelp out, arms trying to push him away. 

“this is what you get.” gabe laughed, ducking his head as your arm moved frantically and nearly hit him.

“oh didn’t know you were into punishment stuff. very kinky, gabe.” you smirked, laughing even harder when gabe stopped abruptly and his eyes went wide, face suddenly all red. 

you chuckled as you cupped both of his cheeks and pressed your lips on his, slow and soft, letting you both melt in each other before you pulled away. “gonna need to delete the last bit of the video so it’s appropriate to send to your sister.”

gabe’s mouth dropped and he rolled his eyes, looking to his left to see your phone propped up against the lamp. “please don’t show that to anyone, especially my family. and please don’t do that again.”

“can’t promise anything sadly.” you said matter of factly, grinning at him. 

“but you’re still coming to christmas?” he asked hopefully, head tilting so he was leaning into your touch. 

“obviously. but im only going because your mom makes the best cookies.” you shrugged, making gabe chuckle.

“whatever you say baby.”

[jsprnt]

recovering from getting your wisdom teeth removed isn’t as simple as you had expected…

jude bellingham x fem!reader

a/n: it’s been way too long since I’ve written or posted anything on this account. but I’m so happy I could write something! as you might have guessed, I’m currently suffering from having my wisdom teeth pulled, and needed to find a distraction to not go crazy at home.. anyhow, hope you like it, enjoy!

w/c: 1.480

"I can't talk a lot right now.."

You mumble out, trying to bite down on the white gauze in your mouth. The jaw surgeon and her nurses had just pulled out two of your impacted wisdom teeth half an hour ago, the numbness from the local anesthesia still making your tongue and cheek feel incredibly weird.

"That's okay, love. Just come and sit on the couch.."

Your boyfriend, Jude tells you, one hand on your waist and one holding up an ice pack to your right cheek. The coldness soothing your sore face.

The morning birds were still chirping outside, as you had scheduled your appointment as early as possible. Wanting to get it over and done with.

"I really want a drink.." You choke out, placing your head on the couch cushion, the soft material more comfortable than the hard chair in the surgeon’s office you had lain on earlier.

"The doctor said you can't drink until the anesthesia has worn off, babe." Jude voices out, his thumb wiping away some bloody spit coming out the corner of your mouth.

Being a professional footballer for years had made him absolutely immune to anything pertaining to blood and wounds. He'd experienced and seen so many injuries to count on his hands, which turned out to be beneficial for you in a moment like this.

He'd gone as far as to postpone his post-season family vacation when he'd heard you planned to spend your post-opp days miserable and alone in your apartment. Wanting to be there for you when you were healing and needed some extra love and support.

"That's so unfair.." You whisper, closing your eyes as you let out a strangled sigh. Still emotional from what happened back at the hospital.

Yes, you were fully numbed, but being conscious and aware of the fact that your gums and jawbone were being cut and drilled into made you squeamish and extra nervous.

"I know, baby.." You hear your boyfriend say, a warm towel coming to wipe your mouth and face.

"Let's change you into your pajamas. It's best if you sleep off the numbness.."

He'd changed and helped you into bed within minutes, planting a sweet and comforting kiss onto your forehead, as he pulled up the comforter to your chest.

"I don't want you to go.." You whisper out when you notice him back away, his hands reaching for the doorknob.

"Hm? You want me to stay?" He cocks a brow, hesitating as he was planning to call his mum to ask if she could make some soup for you. He'd obviously want to make some himself, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to take his chances— of you ending up even more miserable when you tasted his cooking skills, or rather lack thereof..

"Please.."

Jude's heart clenches in his chest as he hears the emotion in your voice, he lets go of the doorknob, making a beeline towards his side of the bed.

He makes quick work of texting his mum, before placing his phone on the nightstand, and coming to wrap his arms around your waist. His warm body and muscular arms providing some much- needed comfort.

"Here, here.. close your eyes, baby, hm? I'll be here when you wake up.."

You make a small noise, before turning in his hold to face him. You look him over, his concerned brown eyes, and plump lips set in a line of worry. Unconsciously, his hand comes up to fix the ice pack underneath your head.

"C'mon, sleep now, yeah?" Jude goes in to kiss your forehead once more, a thumb swiping over your brow bone.

Nodding softly, you close your eyes. Exhaustion taking over you, as a result of your nerves not letting you sleep properly last night.

The last thing you see before nodding off, is Jude's handsome face. And as he promised; the first thing you see when waking up hours later in the afternoon— is his face again.

"Morning, sleepyhead. How are you feelin'?” Jude's gentle voice coaxes you awake, your consciousness slowly getting clearer. You immediately notice the fact that the ice pack underneath your head is frozen solid, noting that Jude must've switched it for a frozen one while you were asleep.

"It hurts.." Your first words make him frown in worry, one hand coming to check the size of your swollen cheek.

"You're a bit swollen, baby.." He comments, his gaze overridden with worry and guilt. Jude can't help but feel relief at the fact that he'd decided to stay home until you’ve recovered, since he couldn't have left you alone in your vulnerable state.

"Here, sit up so I can feed you some of my mum’s soup.." He says, stabilizing your back as you move to sit.

You immediately groan at the change of position, feeling your cheek swell up wasn't for the weak..

"I want medicine.." You comment, frowning in pain. Your hand coming to cling onto Jude's bicep, fingers curling around the bulging muscles.

"Okay, baby.. here— let me..."

Jude makes quick work of grabbing the painkillers on the nightstand, grabbing two for optimal effect.

"Take one at a time, slowly.." He muses, slowly placing one into your mouth. Jude brings up a cup of lukewarm water, helping you wash away the medicine.

"Remember, no rinsing your mouth until tomorrow..." He comments, placing the empty glass back on the nightstand.

"Gross.." You mumble back, the idea of having a crusty-bloody mouth until tomorrow makes you want to grab a bottle of mouthwash and rinse your mouth until you feel and taste only the mintiness of the liquid.

"I won't kiss you until then.." Jude teases, a smirk pulling on his lips, a hint of mocking in his eyes.

"You're so mean.." You mumble out, clinging onto the ice pack for some relief.

"I love you too.." He muses, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you closer.

"Do you want to eat in bed, or would you like to sit at the table?" Jude asks, fingers playing with your hair strands, the feeling making you slightly ticklish.

"Here.." You comment, eyes going to the bowl of soup on his nightstand. No way did you have energy to move to the dinner table.

"I love your mum.." You add, appreciating the fact that she had taken the time out of her busy day to cook for you.

A silent declaration of love.

Jude chuckles at your love for his mother, moving his arm to grab the warm bowl of soup.

"I'll let her know, or— you should tell her yourself when you see her.." He stirs the liquid with a metal spoon, then holds up a spoonful of soup, and blows on it.

He knows it would be better to eat lukewarm and warm foods, as anything very hot could cause you to burn your mouth. He’d rather not add anything to your list of burdens today...

"Here you go, have some.." Jude coaxes, feeding you slowly until you finish the bowl of soup with a sigh.

"That was good.." You mumble, humming when you feel a warm towel on your face.

"Are you still hungry?" Jude asks, wiping away the residual soup from your lips, as licking them was harder with half your jaw stitched shut.

"No, I'm good..."

You move up to his lap, thighs pressing against his, as Jude gets the queue to wrap his arm around you, stabilizing the ice pack on your cheek.

"Hands around me.." He tells you, knowing it was the most comfortable for you to rest your hands, and not to worry about holding the cold, icy plastic to your face.

"Good girl, we'll let the soup settle into your belly, and then I'll prepare a warm bath, 'kay?" Jude whispers, running a soothing hand down your back.

You hum, taking his signature cologne in. Normally, when he would go out— he'd smell like sandalwood and bergamot— like the perfume you'd gifted him on his birthday years ago. Something he would rebuy and apply all the time, just to think of you when you weren't there..

Now, he smelled the definition of clean. A soft, gentle smell of the shampoo in his recently washed hair, and the smell of his sweet cocoa body lotion, something you couldn't help but steal from him..

"I want a smoothie after this.." You mumble, taking in the soothing touches. The taste of a freshly made smoothie was heavenly to you, especially when you were feeling down or under the weather..

"Of course, whatever my princess wants, my princess gets.."

You don't catch the soft, soothing smile Jude has on his face, but do know that no matter how hard this recovery process gets, he'll stay by your side no matter what...

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I saw the wording ‘baby Venus vampire trap Stan’ and they meant teen! Stan but imagine if it’s the whole deaging no memory Stan who is also now a Venus vampire trap. This kid being like “Uncle sixer, vampires aren’t real!!” While Ford is hyperventilating in the background

Hey, not only is this funny I could make this so much worse :)

Stan gets stalked by a vampire with a taste for kids but Stan gets away by biting them. Just like teen Stan this vamp is too proud and too stubborn to let one kid get the best of them and stalks and hunts Stan over and over, only for Stan to get away every time via biting, filling him up with vamp blood and making him sick. Stan and Ford are convinced he's turning into a vampire, except because he hasn't actually been turned none of the tests come up as positive for vampirism and they sadly come to the conclusion that vampires aren't real :/

Then Stan gets rushed to the hospital because he collapses or something at school (no way are his parents taking him after all), the vampire takes advantage of the panic of the situation to finally drain Stan, and he dies on the way to the hospital. Some vamp doctor realizes what happened, fakes Stan's death, and kidnaps him before he wakes up so he doesn't turn the hospital/his family into a blood bath. If the doctor was altruistic or just wanted a easy vamp kid doesn't matter, because Venus Vampire Trap Stan wakes up wherever their nest was set up, drains all the adult vampires dry and disappears into the night, lost and confused, miles away from home and with no one looking for him and no real way to get back to Glass Shard Beach (can't trust the cops after all). Becomes a homeless immortal kid eating all the messed up vampires jumping homeless kids at night, barely scraping by as vampires aren't as widespread yet and just trying to get home (Not realizing how much time has passed. Time goes slow if your hungry or something, right? Its only been maybe a month, maybe a year? How many winters? It seems likes its been a lot but no... he's still a kid... it can't have been that long. He must just be so lost he's going super far north where its always cold then super far south where its always hot! That makes sense!)

Meanwhile Fords hit with the devastating news that Stan died in the hospital. Whatever he had was so awful they won't let anyone see the body, and now he's all alone in the world. No friends, no protection, grades slipping from depression. Eventually he manages to move on through shutting himself down and going through life emotionally closed off. Project still gets sabotaged, still meets Bill, is so lonely and desperate for validation he falls for Bill's manipulation, gets tricked, unleashes vamp apocalypse. Starts hunting vampires, makes friends, builds a vampire hunting organization. Its up and running for maybe a year, when it happens.

Doing a regular hunt, trying to find the vampires set up in some town or another, sees some kid kicking a can out far too late and rushes to help when he gets jumped. Circles around the alley to see the kid, claws digging into the vamps shoulder and teeth deep in their neck, eyes gold and clearly draining them. They make eye contact and the kid freaks, letting go and babbling about how he was just minding his own business, and this creep attacked him, and- and-

And Ford is frozen, because even if its been twenty years and the kids covered in dirt, hair tangled and clothes patchy and torn, he knows Stan always and forever. Thats Stan, the same age he was when he 'died' and oh god.

Stan did die. He died twenty years ago long before Ford could have done anything to protect him. He died terrified and alone in a hospital and was snatched away, and-

Doesn't think vampires are real? What?

Stan tries to use Fords shock to skedaddle away, then yells as Ford snatches him, drops as Ford drugs him, then wakes up in a vampire proof cell surrounded by a bunch of wackos who think vampires are real and a weirdo who keeps trying to tell Stan he's Sixer. This guy can't be Sixer, because Sixer is at home, and they're twins? So Sixer is a kid old man guy, you can't fool Stan with these kinds of outrageous lies. Ford and him proved vampires weren't real ages ago after all. Will graciously admit that they're related, but Fords his uncle at best, not his brother.

So now Fords looking after his immortal vampire baby twin brother who's also a new species of vampire thats barely survived the last twenty years.

Fun bonus!

Stan's an eternal ambiguously nine to twelve year old. His metabolism when he died was crazy due to being a kid who was growing, and even if he's now dead an no longer growing, his body still has that metabolism. He's constantly hungry and needs to feed all the time (he survived the last twenty years through the venus vampire trap ability to sense vampire thoughts. He can't really read minds, but he can sense activity and subconsciously always heads towards it, one of the reasons he never made it home. He was also very sickly the last two decades). Which means when Ford locks him up in a panic Stan's lookin a little better than he has in the last few years he's still a kid who can't travel fast to get his meals, so he drops way faster than adult Stan and goes into hibernation, slowly starving to death while he waits for prey to show up.

Which still happens :) and then Ford get the even more horrifying sight of tiny kid Stan ripping into full grown adult vampires and absolutely drenching himself in blood. If adult Stan is terrifying, tiny Stan is a horror movie, he's hissing, he's lunging at vampires and tackling them to the ground, tiny hands clutching their heads and digging into them.

Then he gets full for the first time in twenty years and passes out mid drain, snoring into a vampire throat and still clutching them like a baby with a bottle, hisses everytime someone (Ford) tries to pull him loose. They have to stake the vampire and then Stan's doing that tired kid whining thing and Fords just. Holding him. Covered in blood while Stan's tiny claws clutch his coat and he sticks his tongue out at Fords neck like its broccoli. Then goes back to snoring. He's sleepy after all.

Now not only does Ford have to look after tiny vampire Stan and get slammed with the fact that he didn't save him (couldn't have saved him. Stan died years ago and there's nothing Ford could have done to stop it. He wasn't smart enough to know the signs, not strong enough to stop them from taking Stan to the hospital, not stubborn enough to demand to see a body. Not enough.), he also needs to constantly feed Stan and his not growing but ever hungry stomach or get his heart broken at Stan's comments about not feeling good and being hungry. On top of that he's trying to convince Stan that it really has been twenty years, but, just like teen Stan, kid Stan's sanity is hanging by the thread of 'someday I'll get home and see Sixer and Ma and everyone will cheer and Pa will finally be happy to see me' and Ford can't break that fragile hope.

On a lighter note Bill has graciously gotten over the existence of Fords vampire kid and lets Ford know that he's not one to turn a guy down just because they have a kid. It actually makes Ford a little hotter, gives him those hunky dad vibes. Bill's sorta into it actually. Alright he can fit this mini Ford into their perfect ideal vampire life. He'll be the cool step dad to Fords son, give him all the cool presents to distract Stan from the fact that his two cool dads are making out. Ford tells him maybe to think over how willing he is to get over it, and to stay away from his brother. They aren't making out, please die. Stan doesn't know who this creepy teen is but why would he want to get with an old man like Uncle Stanford. Doesn't Bill know that he's ancient? Like, so old he was probably around when dinosaurs still lived.

Ford is still not thirty and very offended at that remark. Bill screams that Stan will never understand the appeal of older men because he's stuck being pint sized forever, and shut up! Stan yells that if anyone looked at a man as old as Uncle Stanford and wanted to marry him they'd need to get their eyes checked, and he's not that hot normally? Very room temperature most of the time, except for whenever Stan gets sick. Then he's super hot, and its gross.

Its an endless loop that Emma-May uses to kill the rest of the vampires watching and Fiddleford face palms over.

[tamayula-hl]

I've received several DMs that say things like:

"That artist in the fandom quit because you copied her art style."

"You’re the one who killed her motivation."

"I can’t believe more people aren’t calling you out."

"You should go back to your original style."

In response to these messages, I’d like to take a moment to carefully explain the history of my art style and how it has evolved over time.

The first image has already been shared on my side blog—it's a sex-themed gag comic I drew around 2013. (It was originally posted on DeviantArt, timestamped Jun 20, 2013.)

The second is a one-page sexual comedy I drew in 2020. It was also uploaded to my Pixiv account (under a different username) on October 2, 2020. I prefer not to publicly share that account, but if you’d like to confirm the timestamp, feel free to DM me.

As you can see, I’ve been drawing this type of work—“silly NSFW comics in a Japanese manga style,” using “pastel, soft colour palettes” and “short, one-page formats”—long before I ever joined the Hogwarts Legacy fandom.

In other words, drawing “sexual content in a comedic tone,” using “a cute art style to depict sweet but dumb couples,” and creating “self-contained comics with clear setups and punchlines” has always been a core part of my creative identity.

However, when I first got into Hogwarts Legacy—a story set in Victorian-era Britain—I wanted to try drawing in a style that better matched the mood of the world: something more subdued and atmospheric. At the same time, I saw another artist already succeeding in the fandom with a soft pastel, manga-inspired style similar to mine. I felt afraid of being compared to them, and anxious about my own lack of skill being exposed. Because of that, I distanced myself from my original style for a while and tried my hand at more realistic rendering and serious, moody art (up until around December 2024).

But earlier this year, that artist released a sexual comedy comic that received a huge positive reaction on Twitter. The execution was so polished that I was genuinely stunned—and deeply drawn to it.

The way it teased sexual content, balanced comedy and cuteness, and managed to stay tasteful despite the theme... it was all incredibly refined. And honestly, I couldn’t help but admire that success. I found myself thinking, “I want to create something that people love just as much.”

So I reached out to the artist via DM and asked, “Would it be okay if I tried making a comic like the one you just posted?” They kindly gave me permission, and I publicly tweeted about it at the time—with a reply from them confirming it.

Since then, starting in late January, I’ve returned to the style that suits me best: lighthearted, pastel-coloured NSFW comics. It’s something I’ve drawn many times in past fandoms—it brings me joy, feels natural, and puts far less strain on me creatively.

I hope people can understand that while I was definitely inspired by that artist, the core of my current work is still rooted in my own long-standing preferences and artistic journey.

That said, I won’t deny that I was heavily inspired by certain stylistic techniques found in her work—such as pencil-like line art, colour-coded speech bubbles, handwritten-style fonts, and her delicate balance of sexuality and cuteness.

I’ve learned a lot from her art, and I truly respect her as an artist. While I’ve never intentionally copied her stories or compositions, I do recognise that her refined techniques have influenced me.

I also feel guilt over the possibility that returning to my original style may have unintentionally hurt her feelings. Even though she explicitly gave me permission to draw “silly NSFW comics like hers,” I now wonder if she might have had more complicated feelings beneath the surface. I wish I had been more sensitive to that.

If my lack of maturity ended up casting a shadow over her creative spirit, I deeply and sincerely apologise.

However, it is extremely painful and upsetting to be publicly labelled as “someone who copied her entire style and drove her to quit.”

I see my current work as a result of evolving my old style by integrating what I’ve learned from others. Still, I acknowledge my tendency to be easily influenced by others’ art and my past failure to show enough consideration for her feelings. That’s why moving forward, I will do my best to avoid looking at the fandom timeline altogether—to prevent myself from unintentionally absorbing or echoing the styles of others.

Additionally, if she ever directly contacts me and says, “Please don’t use certain elements in this fandom—like coloured speech bubbles, handwritten fonts, or pencil-textured lines,” I would accept that request with sincerity and stop using those elements.

A quick note about my future creative plans: The “bad boy × good girl” dynamic in my Sebastian × Sakurako stories—and certain Studio Ghibli-inspired motifs I love as a Japanese artist—are not derived from her work. They reflect my own long-standing interests.

(In fact, the concept of Sakurako—a studious, straight-laced original character—was born shortly after the release of Hogwarts Legacy, well before I ever discovered her work. In November of last year, I sent her a DM to explain that, by pure coincidence, my Sebastian × Sakurako dynamic happened to resemble the “bad boy × good girl” trope her pairing also explored. I didn’t directly ask for permission, but she generously responded by saying I shouldn’t worry and that I should feel free to draw what I like.)

So I want to clarify that what I create is not imitation, but a genuine expression of what I love and want to draw.

From here on out, I hope to keep facing my style with honesty, and to continue creating with greater care and thoughtfulness.

Thank you so much for reading this far.

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | twelve

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, angst, college au, smau/irl, mentions of medical procedures, surgery, hospitals, medicine, jealousy, breastfeeding mentioned once.

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 1.9k

authors note: it took me longer than I wanted but my health wasn't cooperating. This wasn't supposed to be a flashback but if I had added this to last chapter it would've been too long. We will be back to the present time line next part, I just needed to get this out of the way. ENJOY 🙂‍↕️

11 | 12 | 13

Sophomore year - Spring Break 2023

“Look, it’s not packed, I told you,” you said to Kelce.  

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to come to the beach, but you and Angie did, and he was tagging along because it was his only day with nothing planned.  

“You know you are crashing, right?” you teased him.  

“Excuse me for wanting to spend time with my best friend.” Kelce rolled his eyes again as you laid out something for the three of you to sit on.  

“I am spending time with my best friend,” you said with a little smirk, referring to Angie and not him.  

“Just say you hate me,” he said, putting a hand over his chest and pretending to be hurt. Meanwhile, Angie was just chuckling and setting down some of the items she had brought for the picnic at the beach.  

After the three of you were settled, you took some pictures as you always did and started talking. The conversation began with Angie telling you about Ethan and what had happened with him in more detail, and that he had tried to explain why he did what he did, but only made things worse. Kelce gave his opinions when asked; he knew better than to interrupt the two of you during your catch-up session. The conversation shifted to Kelce and Nikki, the girl he was seeing. She was nice, and you didn’t have much to tell him about her, just that sometimes she was a bit too jealous, but he knew that and liked it.

After eating and having a lighthearted chat, Kelce decided to probe a bit about the Jordan and Rafe topic. He wasn’t asking to get something out of it, but after the party and the date a month ago, he had been wanting to ask some things, though he had held back, not wanting to piss you off. You had reacted a bit badly to his lack of enthusiasm when you told him about the date, so he had refrained from asking why you had suddenly decided to give all your energy and attention to Jordan when you had been feeling unsure about him.  

“So, how are things with Jordan? Any plans for this week?”  

“No, we have been talking here and there. He wants to go out again, but our schedules keep clashing.”  

“It’s spring break; shouldn’t he be free?” Kelce tried to sound supportive, but he didn’t like Jordan; there was something that didn’t sit right with him. The only person he had admitted this to was Rafe because he knew he also didn’t like him, though Rafe’s reasons were completely different. Kelce just didn’t like the guy, while Rafe didn’t like Jordan because you liked Jordan. Jealousy.  

“He has plans with his family,” you said, taking a sip of your Coke. 

“Okay, yeah, I get it…” he paused. “But besides that, everything is good, right?”  

“Yes, after the date, he has been even sweeter, mentioning things I told him, and he always brings up the date. I’m taking it as a good sign.” You said, and Angie nodded as if to reassure you.  

“No regrets on going on the date then?” Kelce stated rather than questioned.  

“No regrets at all,” you said with a smile. “Why? You thought I was regretting it?”  

“No, no, just making sure you feel okay with him.”  

“I do, thanks for asking.”  

“So Rafe?” he said, not knowing how else to bring it up. You knitted your eyebrows.  

“Rafe? What about Rafe?”  

“You don’t like him anymore?”  

“What?” You asked, even more confused; he had caught you off guard. You hadn’t told him you had a crush on him. Angie had been the only one who knew about what you called a silly crush.  

“Or did I get it wrong?” Kelce asked, trying to read your reaction. You sighed, giving up.  

“No… I did have a little crush on him for a while, but it’s over now.” He smirked at your answer.  

“When?”  

“When what?”  

“When did you get over him? Was it before or after you saw him kissing Sofia?” He was testing you, and you hated it.  

“Who is Sofia?” Angie asked, a bit confused.  

“High school friend of Kelce,” you explained to her. “And that kiss is not relevant.” It was; you knew it had been relevant. It had been the whole reason you decided to move on.  

“If you say so.”  

“Kelce, I don’t like him anymore, okay?”  

“Thought it was a silly crush,” Angie added, grinning.  

“Angie!” you huffed and rolled your eyes.

—

This time, the family spring break trip had also been a family reunion; older cousins and other relatives had tagged along. There were more kids around this time, and Emily was over the moon to have cousins her age and even nieces and nephews who were her age or close to it to play with. Rafe mingled and talked to everyone, but at the end of the day, he always returned to what he felt comfortable with: Sarah. They were that pair of cousins who did almost everything together since childhood, and people mistook them for siblings. His mom and Sarah’s mom had been best friends since college, and by luck or destiny, they had married brothers, which led them to share a last name. Later on, it resulted in Sarah having her aunt’s name as her middle name.

So, as with any other dinner, Sarah and Rafe were sitting next to each other, ready to comment on whatever would happen during the meal or had happened earlier. 

“Who do you think will end up drinking more tonight?” Sarah asked. 

“Grandpa, maybe; it’s always him. Watch him make toasts for nothing to excuse his drinking,” Rafe said, chuckling under his breath. 

“I think it's gonna be Liliana. She officially stopped breastfeeding, and she said she wasn't looking after the baby today.” She chuckled, and Rafe rolled his eyes. 

“I know; she almost threw Theo at me today.” 

The dinner went on normally, just as they had expected. At one point, it was just the grown-ups at the table, but they were not interested in that talk, and Sarah had wanted to ask Rafe something for a while but hadn’t had the chance to do so. 

“So… how are you feeling now about the Y/N situation?” she asked, a bit scared of how he was going to react. 

“What situation?” 

“Your feelings for her.” 

“I’m okay; she’s with Jordan, so I don’t care anymore.” He said it was nothing, but Sarah knew better. This time, she didn’t want to push him to say more, or he would shut her off entirely, and that was not her intention. 

“So that’s it?” she asked, a bit concerned. Rafe sighed.

“Yeah, that’s it…” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“No, she’s just a friend, I guess. I don’t know; we never got to talk or hang out one-on-one, so I guess she’s just part of the friend group but not my friend.” Sarah noticed the resignation in his voice, and it made her feel bad. She knew Jordan a bit, and she didn’t feel like he was a bad guy. Of course, between Jordan and Rafe, she would choose Rafe for you, but you were happy with Jordan. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“Look, she’s with him, and I just don’t care anymore. It’s her life; she can do whatever she wants, and that’s it.”

Coming out of the anesthesia was hell. You didn’t remember anything you had done. You thought you had just passed out, but according to the nurses, you talked a lot. You even fought with one of them. You apologized, and she said she was used to it; she knew patients didn’t mean it. 

As your mom had gone out of your room to check on you and see if the insurance was covering this, a nurse helped you shower and get ready to go home. Even though you knew it didn’t matter how you looked, you styled your hair and did your makeup because you wanted to look presentable. 

“Is your boyfriend waiting for you at home?” the nurse asked in a gentle tone, just trying to make conversation. 

“Oh no, no, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you chuckled softly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for asking. I just assumed from the way you were talking about this guy when you were coming out of the anesthesia.” 

“Oh, did I say his name?” you asked, curious about what you had said. 

“No, honey, I’m sorry, but you were saying how nice and thoughtful he was at your birthday. I don’t interrupt when patients are like that; I just let them talk,” she said gently, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Rafe. 

“Probably just one of my friends,” you lied. You didn’t have to lie to the nurse who didn’t know about your life, but you did. 

“Well then, you have amazing friends,” she said.

—

When you got back home, you stayed in the living room, not wanting to walk up the stairs. Jordan had called you, asking if he could drop by to see how you were doing, and you had agreed. When he arrived, you two talked, and he met your mom briefly. You were listening to music and just hanging out when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t even try to stand up,” he said in a warning but caring tone. He wanted to go answer the door, but your mom went first. You heard a soft, “Thanks,” before she closed the door.

“What was it?” you asked loud enough for your mom to hear.

“Sarah sent you a get-well-soon basket.” She placed the basket next to you so you could see what was inside. 

“This is too cute; I need to text her.” Jordan smiled at your reaction to the gift from Sarah. “Oh, look at the card! It has a band-aid,” you chuckled softly as you looked at the front of the card. It was a band-aid with googly eyes, stick hands, and legs, and it read, “Get well soon.”

After texting Sarah, you grabbed the card and checked what she had told you. It was signed just as she said it would be: Sarah and Rafe. You felt something tug at your heart as you read the handwritten note, but you had to ignore it.  

“Jordan, can you change the song, please?” He nodded and went to grab your phone to change the song.  

“Of course.” He didn’t mean to see the texts waiting there for you to read, but he did. Rafe Cameron. He knew Rafe as one of Topper's friends. You had mentioned him a couple of times when you two had started talking, but it never made him worry.  

Jordan didn’t think of himself as a jealous guy, but when he read what Rafe had bought you, it made him want to hit the guy. Why was he buying you things? Wasn’t this supposed to be just from Sarah?  

“Can I see the card?” he asked. You nodded and passed it to him. When he opened it, he suppressed a huff. He had seen your reaction to the card, and now that he knew Rafe was in it, something just didn’t sit right with him. He was sure his eye was going to start twitching if he didn’t calm down.  

Jordan tried to ignore the feeling for the rest of the time he was there. He canceled a plan he had just made to stay there in a way to compensate for not buying you anything like Sarah and Rafe had done. He didn’t tell you how he felt; you needed to focus on your recovery, and he had to focus on not feeling jealous of Rafe.

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REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.

[lexirosewrites]

hi! coming off anon but i'm having more sabrina carpenter!steve thoughts. also to make things easier i'm just gonna call this au juno (bc duh). anyways! the thoughts!!

(the thoughts got wildly out of control so this is fairly long)

o!steve (former disney star, current pop icon) and robin (i don't have a specific preference for her designation anyways she's an actress) are Best Friends and have been for years. they first met at a charity event and weren't close for awhile but eventually they realized they fit together So Well and Had to be best friends. robin stars in as many of steve's music videos as she can swing with her agent, and steve begs his manager to allow his songs in any of her movies/shows that ask for it. when you think of best friends in hollywood you think of steve harrington and robin buckley.

a!eddie and the cc boys- o!gareth, b!freak, a!jeff- are an indie metal band, finding their footing and hitting their stride with the rise of tiktok. they're not super big, but they've opened for some other bands touring through the midwest. once all of them graduated high school they got tf out of hawkins and moved to chicago to pursue music (and day jobs to pay for rent).

ever since steve left his previous record company, hollywood records (owned by disney), who signed him at 15 years old to a five album contract (essentially shackling him for anywhere from five to potentially fifteen years) steve's been trying to put forth a more mature image and leave behind the squeaky clean disney image. in his first album with his new company he actually gets to cuss and be explicit in his songs. when he goes on tour for this album he performs nonsense which goes viral on tiktok for the location-specific outros.

gareth, chronically online king, sees the nonsense outros and gets interested in steve's music even if it isn't his typical cup of tea. gareth find's steve's music empowering- it's fun, flirty, silly, emotional, and embraces their designation as omegas. gareth becomes a certified Stan. the cc boys lowk get annoyed with how much he plays this pop garbage.

(crazy interlude bc i'm reading sabrina's wikipedia rn and somehow her and feather are linked to eric adams getting indicted???? anyways)

after like a year or so of cc hearing steve anytime gareth gets aux they are now inundated with steve's new mega viral single, espresso. and like... it's not bad but it's pop and it's repetitive and overplayed- gareth for the love of god skip this damn song! not only is steve doing Numbers with espresso but he releases a new single, please please please. the music video for please×3 features his current boyfriend and hollywood bad boy a!billy hargrove. after a little over a year of dating and the start of steve's new tour for his album, it's speculated that billy cheated on steve and they broke up.

steve has this song, juno, that's sexual and liberating and fun and gareth loves it along with the rest of the album. even though the tickets are wildly expensive thanks to steve's launch into mega stardom gareth gets the boys to go to a show for his birthday and be in the pit. he is dedicated to camping, he wants to be as close to barricade as humanly possible. even tho the other guys don't dress up in the style of the album they still camp with him for barricade, and god dammit they will enjoy this concert. live music is live music, even if it's pop and eddie will enjoy this night so help me god. cc ends up getting barricade and during the wait meet a couple fans (super unexpected considering the genres but whatever).

when it comes time for steve to perform juno he comes out onstage in a gorgeous maxi length sparkly set. eddie is already kinda in love at this point, this gorgeous omega is an amazing performer and his songs maybe just a little bit are good (don't tell gareth). with their miraculous luck getting barricade and even more insane luck, eddie gets arrested right before juno starts for being too hot. and gareth has seen the juno clips, he knows what's about to happen, but eddie hasn't. and then this gorgeous omega who just arrested him for being hot ?? is having his clothing drop into a short, sexy number and ???? eddie is so ??? and then steve dangles these fluffy handcuffs at him??? what is happening???

gareth is losing his mind, that's his best friend getting juno arrested. on the big screen. in front of everybody. in front of steve harrington. jeff and freak are also going insane bc wtf is happening at this show?? eddie is 404 error message not found and his brain is just cable tv channel with no signal static. and steve can Barely see the audience with all the stage lights but he always uses his intuition for juno arrests, and he tries to subtly sneak a peak at the big screen to check just who he's picked. and Maybe the skirt dropping is a planned gag for comedic effect, but if this random metalhead who looks so out of place at his concert asked for his number right now in front of thousands of people he'd give it out. and Maybe his subtle sneak peak to the big screen is a Little more noticeable (if you're anyone but those two lost in each other's beauty).

anyways, after all his post-show routine and duties steve Finally checks his phone. as usual, tonight's juno arrest and pose are already on tiktok and twitter and wherever else. however, unlike after a normal show, he has like fifty million missed texts from the kids and a thousand missed calls from dustin specifically. steve ignores those in favor of checking in with robin first, who sent her love and tells him he's talented and hot and he's gonna kill it onstage. and then he gets to his texts with dustin. dustin who has been freaking the fuck out because steve juno arrested eddie fucking munson. and steve is like "..... who is that?" and dustin is gobsmacked and appalled!!! eddie munson as in the lead guitarist for his and mike's current favorite indie metal band corroded coffin. and all of cc were literally on the screen!!!! gareth was filming eddie and steve and the camera!!! and jeff was filming the big screen!!!!! and steve is like "i'm glad i arrested him he was hot :)" and dustin is so ???? ew bc steve is like his brother but ALSO this could be his in to nerd out with his favorite band! steve is just like "ok man cool i gotta go to bed bc touring is Tiring".

next day, after eddie.exe has finally started running again and chronically online king gareth has had time to sloppily edit together a tiktok the official cc tiktok account gets a new post. it's a mix of gareths footage, jeff's, and footage from random internet users who posted already. and the caption just says "what the hell happened last night". all the comments are either cc fans like "??? you guys went to steve harrington??", steve fans being like "can't believe the juno arrest from last night is a musician", some random account called dustybuns who said "my brother arrested you can we meet now", and a handful of people saying "my worlds are colliding".

steve still hasn't really seen much of the fuss abt last night's show, he's been resting as much as he can on a busy tour. robin texts him like "dude last night is going viral" and he just 👍-reacts to the text. dustin is begging steve to dm cc, to dm eddie's personal acc, to dm ANYONE STEVE PLEASE!!!!! steve is resolutely ignoring this in favor of drinking soothing tea and running his dancing and blocking for the show.

okay this has ran so far away from me and idk where it's going. if anyone feels strongly i might try to continue having these Thoughts and sharing them for slick sunday. tysm for hosting lexi and tysm to everyone who seemed to enjoy my idea last week! if anyone wants to flesh this out and make a whole fic of it i definitely won't say no to that :3

i love the idea of Steve managing to fluster Eddie so badly like this🤭