#like the university clearly is not here for me in any way

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[itneverendshere]

lovee bartender!reader and rafe soo much, theyre daydream content fr!!! <3 if it takes your fancy, maybe a little piece where readers tired so she puts her pride away and does go to rafe for help (even if only for something very small) and hes just elated, ecstatic, all the words for it! that man is always so stressed, need him to have some peace LOL

she eventually becomes a little less headstrong about his help so this when she finally really understands that’s is okay to need someone else sometimes 🙂‍↕️🫂 thank you for the request! and also thank you for loving them too 🫶🏻

year dark night and now i see daylight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

The lights glinted off the glasses, making you squint. You were so tired. Your legs felt like they would give out at any moment, and the tension in your shoulders was making your neck ache, but there was no time to stop. 

There was never any time to stop.

You’d been running on fumes for days now—maybe weeks?—but who was counting? Not you, clearly. Because taking a break or slowing down?

That just wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were fine. You could handle it. You always handled it. You didn’t need help.

The headache you’d been ignoring was getting worse, though, creeping behind your eyes, making you blink more than usual. Your hands were shaky, and if you were being honest with yourself (which you rarely were these days), your body was running on empty. But still, there was work to do, and people needed drinks, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you couldn’t do your job.

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar a little tighter than necessary when the room seemed to tilt, just for a second. That was new. You sucked in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. 

Nope. Not now. Can’t do this here. 

There was no way you were going to break down in the middle of your shift, in front of everyone. You’d tough it out like you always did.

“Hey!” Your co-worker voice cut through the pain, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was waving you over to another table where more customers had just sat down.

Perfect. More people. Just what you needed.

You forced your feet to move, pushing through the exhaustion as best you could. 

You felt that familiar wave of anxiety, your new best friend, but you shoved it down like always.

You could handle it. You had to. Because asking for help? Letting someone see you weren’t doing okay? That was never an option. Except…maybe this time, it was.

You hesitated behind the bar, staring blankly at the group that had just sat down. They could wait a minute, right? Just one minute to pull yourself together. You’d earned that, at least.

Before you knew it, your phone was in your hand, thumb hovering over one name in your contacts: Rafe.

You hated asking for help. He worried about you enough as it was, constantly telling you to slow down or take it easy. You usually brushed him off. But tonight…tonight felt different. You were running on nothing but pride and stubbornness at this point, and even that was starting to crack.

Swallowing hard, you hit Call.

It rang twice before you heard his voice. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Rafe sounded surprised—probably because you never called him when you were working. You could hear the concern creeping in already.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how vulnerable you felt just by calling him. “Can you—uh, can you come pick me up? I’m kinda…done.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was processing the fact that you, of all people, were asking for help. When he spoke again, his voice was almost relieved. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a little.

Hanging up, you slumped against the counter, finally letting yourself breathe. Ten minutes. You could make it ten more minutes.

Rafe arrived faster than you expected, his tall frame pushing through the double doors of the club. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the second he saw you, his tough guy expression dropped. You didn’t realize how close you were to falling apart until you saw the way he was looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, crossing the bar in a few quick strides, his hand already reaching for yours.

For once, you didn’t brush him off with a quick “I’m fine.” You just shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in that way that made you feel safe, like it was okay to just not be strong for a second. You hadn’t noticed how badly you needed this—how badly you needed him—until now. Rafe’s chin rested against the top of your head, and you could feel his heart beating under your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t let go right away, his blue eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. You must’ve looked worse than you thought because the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You really weren’t kidding about being done, huh?” His voice was gentle, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. Not at you, but at the fact that you’d been pushing yourself this hard without saying anything sooner.

You gave him a weak smile, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess I went a little overboard this week. But I’m fine now. You’re here.”

He sighed, shaking his head but pulling you closer again, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, “You’re gonna give me a heart-attack before thirty.”

You bit your lip, that familiar guilt settling in your chest. You knew he was right. You knew he worried all the time, every single day. But admitting you needed help—especially to him—took a lot of energy, like ripping away the last bit of control you had. And control was how you survived. How you kept everything in check.

He wasn’t going to think less of you for it. If anything, he looked elated that you’d let him in, that you trusted him enough to ask. You nodded, feeling the tears start to prick the back of your eyes. “I know. I just—” You broke off, not really knowing how to explain it. “I keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“I got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

The quiet of the truck felt like a much-needed break from everything, the engine lulling you into something close to sleep. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until now, with the night air coming through the window and Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You leaned your head back against the seat, watching the headlights of passing cars flash by. It felt weird to not be constantly thinking about what came next, what else needed to get done, or how much work you still had to finish. For once, it was like your brain was actually giving you a break, like it was saying, “Yeah, okay, you can relax now. You’re not alone.”

You glanced over at Rafe, his jaw set in concentration as he drove, but the way his fingers held onto you so gently told you everything. He hadn’t said much since you left the club, but you didn’t need him to.

“Are you hungry?” 

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even thought about food. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry or just exhausted. “Not really,” you admitted. “I just wanna get home.”

Rafe nodded, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Almost there.”

You let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. It was one of the reasons being with him felt so easy, even when everything else in your life felt overwhelming. He never tried to fix things for you, never made you feel like you were weak for needing help. He just showed up—every time.

The minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to his place. The sight of his house—your second home at this point—made your anxiety loosen even more. You didn’t have to do anything here. No one needed you to be “on.” You could just…exist.

“You good?” he asked, offering his hand to help you out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you mumbled, though your body still felt like it might give out if you let yourself relax too much. You took his hand anyway, letting him help you down.

Once you were inside, you kicked off your shoes and practically collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions sink under you like they were the softest thing in the world. You pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as Rafe moved around the room, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over you before sitting down next to you, close but not smothering.

He knew exactly how to handle you—how to be there without overwhelming you. He just sat there, his arm slung over the back of the couch, waiting for you to speak or not speak, whatever you needed. And that’s when it hit you how lucky you were to have him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not really sure why the words came out, but feeling like you had to say something.

Rafe frowned, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. For not telling you sooner that I was struggling. For always acting like I can handle everything when I clearly can’t.”

He shook his head, giving you that soft smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world. “You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I know you. You you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You bit your lip, “I just don’t want to feel like I’m dumping all my shit on you.”

Rafe leaned in a little closer, his hand now resting on your knee. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together. I love you, and I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but this time it wasn’t from stress. It was from the realization that he was right.

He’d always been right and you knew it, it just took you months to process it.

You exhaled, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling more powerful now, more real.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was trust.

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he pulled you closer. He wasn’t frustrated or upset. He was just there, in that patient way that made you fall for him in the first place.

"You’re really too good to me, you know that?" you said softly, tracing your finger over the back of his hand.

He shook his head. “Nah, you deserve it. Besides, it’s not like you make it easy for me to help.”

He said it teasingly, but there was truth in his words. You knew you had a habit of trying to do everything on your own, shutting people out when you felt overwhelmed.

You looked down, feeling a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know. I’m working on it."

"Hey," he said, gently tilting your chin up so you were looking at him again. "I’m kidding. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your heart did that little flip thing it always did when he said stuff like that, like you couldn’t believe someone could love you that much, but at the same time, you knew it was true. 

“If I mess up again, just remind me that you said I don’t have to be perfect."

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “You know, you’re probably gonna fall asleep on me right here.”

You smiled, your eyes already half-closed. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You knew he was grinning without looking, feeling it he leaned down to kiss the top of your head again.

“Okay, but you’re definitely not getting out of taking care of yourself tomorrow. I’m making you pancakes in the morning. You’re eating, and you’re not gonna fight me on it.”

“Mmm, pancakes sound good,” you mumbled, already feeling the pull of sleep creeping in. “But only if you make the chocolate chip ones.”

“Deal.”

Wrapped up in his arms, the world outside of this little bubble didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello! Someone genuinely trying to understand and perhaps unlearn some reactionary tendencies. With the response to that anon about "not asking if you're a pro or anti", the response about "imagine if they put this much effort into protecting real kids" definitely got me thinking. So... Is an adult shipping children and finding that hot NEVER a red flag? Or is it case by case on seeing how that person handles the distinction between fiction and reality in other things? And bringing the issue of real kids into it, if a real kid who has been abused sees someone shipping kids and finds that a red flag in that person, that... No, no I juicy answered my own question on that one. Block them and cultivate your own experience.

hi there anon, and congrats on trying to unlearn some things! and great job catching yourself at the end there, that's exactly correct.

I will start by saying this right out of the gate: fundamentally, I do not really give a shit about what made up scenarios about fictional characters people are jorking it to in private. I am, first and foremost, interested in how they are interacting with actual, real people.

"but Makenzie are you saying people who look at sexually explicit images of real human kids should be allowed near children?" no I'm not. please note that I was specifically talking about people engaging with fictional characters who are, you know, not real and do not have feelings and therefore cannot actually be hurt, traumatized, abused, etc, in any way that actually matters. I want to be so clear about this: you can genuinely think whatever vile things you want about fictional characters. you can enjoy any problematic shit you want with little guys who don't actually exist.

like, here's an example I use a lot: I'm kind of a huge Batman fan. don't know if you could tell that or not, I'm pretty subtle about it. if you spend any time in the Batman mythos, you know that this is a story where you just kind of have to take for granted that our hero is a billionaire using his vast wealth to dispatch vigilante justice with military grade weaponry and a small army of child soldiers and cop friends to help him put people in prison. these are moral quandaries that are discussed and acknowledged within the story, but fundamentally the universe is always going to involve billionaire vigilantism and child soldiers and the so-called carceral justice system. that's just the price of admission if you're gonna read Batman.

and like. I spend a lot of time in that world. I love Batman, I love his child soldiers. he's my little blorbo or whatever. but like, at no point have I said "yeah, fuck it, preteens should be learning martial arts to fight domestic terrorists, actually. I think Elon Musk SHOULD be allowed to put on a fursuit and beat up criminals. cops need more funding." no amount of Batman comics can make me believe or act on any of those things because, you know, I'm a person with a brain and I know the difference between "thing that makes a good story" and "thing that should actually happen for real."

and the thing is that genuinely, honestly, if someone thought that it was a red flag that I like Batman, and that enjoying Batman comics was somehow a red flag indicating that I'm fine with violence being done against real, actual children? I would think that person was a nut, if I can be super real. like, I'm thinking about somebody trying to make the case that I shouldn't be allowed to hang out with my nephew because I enjoy the fictional character of Robin so clearly I'm going to kill my nephew's parents in front of him to try to get him into vigilante justice. or if someone attempted to bar me from teaching my 4th-6th grade sex ed classes on the grounds that I was obviously going to teach them to do karate to clowns instead of how their reproductive systems worked.

(although, lets be real, there are a lot of politicians who would MUCH rather let little kids cage fight each other than learn anything about safer sex.)

this doesn't just apply to morally bad things, either, btw. I also read a lot of romance novels, especially hetero romances. and the thing is, not one of those books has made me want to fall in love with a ruggedly handsome but condescending straight man. hell, none of them have made me want to fall in love with anybody, period. that's not really something I'm interested in for myself, it's just a fun and frequently funny dynamic to explore. I'm hardly the first queer person to point out that the allegations that queer media "turns kids gay/trans" is obviously bullshit since the vertible mountain of cishet media evidently failed to turn any of us straight/cis, you know?

my point being: no, I genuinely don't think it's often, if ever, reasonable to judge someone's actual, real life morals by how they interact with fiction.

I'm going to say something so vulnerable right now, because we're in a safe space here: since you asked me this very reasonable question, you evidently value my judgment and perspective at least a little bit. and I once read and thoroughly enjoyed a fic in which Dr. Horrible, from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, gets fucked by a sapient evil horse. and I don't think that makes me a morally reprehensible person, or a person who advocates for real human beings having real sex with real horses. I think it just makes me kind of a weirdo with a bullshit tolerance.

if you want to hear a MUCH more thorough take on this, complete with addressing the issue of shipping fictional children, I cannot recommend Princess Weekes' video essay enough:

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked(Pt2)

I'll be honest. I have no idea where this is all really going. But it's fun to write. Hope you guys enjoy, any ideas/constructive criticism, by all means. Help. Also, prerequisite "I don't speak Cajun or French" and I'm sorry if Google Translate makes you mad, but it's kinda all I got. Writing in accents is hard, despite speaking with a deep southern drawl my whole life XD And if ya wanna be tagged, I guess let me know? I think I'm doing it right.

She sighed and made her way back to her window, which was a little more difficult to find in the dark. Then she just stared up at it for a long moment. She had not thought this through, clearly. From the ground to the window was a five-foot gap. There was nothing to really put her fingers or toes into for grip, curse the perfect maintenance on the building. And she hadn’t thought to just drop a rope, of which there was a disturbing amount to be found, or something similar to be able to climb up. And with her phone dead, she couldn’t exactly ‘phone a friend’ for assistance. She rubbed her hands over her face in annoyance at herself.

Just as she was about to give up and turn back to the forest, it wouldn’t have been the first time sleeping in a tree, a voice called down from above, “Now, Petite, what’chu doin’ out here, huh? Gon’ an’ gotcha self locked out? Good thin’ Ol’ Gambit was out patrollin’. Lemme help ya up.” She looked up, eyes wide, to see Gambit looking out the window above her own. He had a smile on his face and looked like the cat that had gotten the canary. Which was to say, entirely too pleased with himself.

Normally she would deny help, just because she hated to bother other people with her problems, but this time she was willing to make an exception. She just nodded. Gambit smiled again, “Hang tight, be down in a jiff.” Then he was gone from the window and she was left with her thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t leave her outside for long. Soon enough, he was walking up to her.

“So, how’d ya en’ up ou’ere, huh? We all thought you was hol’up in yer room.” He said with a grin as he motioned back the direction he had come from. No doubt, the front doors. She sighed as she turned to follow him, but not before she glanced up towards her window one last time. Gambit caught her glance easily and followed her gaze. It didn’t take much for him to put two and two together, “Ah, jumped out t’window, hm? Cleaver. T’oh a good teif knows to leave a proper ‘scape route. Or return route in dis case. Why not call’er text ta be let back in?”

She grabbed her phone out of her back pocket, showed him the dark screen, then drew her finger across her throat in the universal sign for ‘dead’. He shook his head, “I see. Well, guess you lucked out wit me bein’ a night owl, huh Petite?” She nodded, just once, and gave him a grateful look. Because he had saved her, even if it was just from a minor inconvenience of having to find a tree to sleep in for the night.

His emotions tasted like cinnamon, vanilla and bourbon on her tongue. Warm, soothing, and with a slight spice. Comfort, care, curiosity, and something light and airy that she couldn’t put a name to. She couldn’t read minds like Xavier or Jean, though she had heard even if she could it would be pointless since Gambit seemed to be able to counteract telepaths. She hadn’t gotten the details on the how, just overheard that he could. But whatever it was that enabled him to escape a telepath’s abilities didn’t seem to help him escape her Empathic abilities, because his emotions were like an open book to her.

They made it to the front doors; that Gambit had left propped open which allowed a warm inviting light spilling onto the stone steps from inside. Not many people realized it, but it wasn’t just living creatures that could have emotions. Wood and stone held residual emotion, particularly strong ones. She could feel the emotions that had seeped into the wood and stone of the mansion over the years of it being occupied. It was yet one more reason why she would hide away or try to escape as much as possible. Her first day in the mansion had nearly driven her to insanity before Xavier had managed to place a temporary shield around her mind to help dull the intensity. Now she was able to create her own mental shields that were almost as strong. Still not enough to be normal, but better.

 “Here ya’re Petite, even left th’ light on for ya.” Gambit teased. The playful teasing tone of his voice perfectly matched the happy-joy-warm-citrusy taste of his emotions. They were so strong that she could feel her own lips pulling into a smile against her will. And of course, he picked up on her smile instantly, “Aww, dat fer me? Should smile more, looks good on ya.” He stepped to the side and, as if he were a prince from a fairy tale, bowed with his arms motioning towards the door, “After you, Chaton.”

She shook her head, unable to stop the smile that seemed almost permanently etched on her face, and stepped inside the mansion. Once inside, she closed her eyes and took a breath. It was something she had to do anytime she walked into a place not one hundred percent her own. She allowed the emotions to flow through her, hateangerfearlovejoypeaceexcitementconcernprotectiveness; but she did not hold on to them. She processed the feelings, acknowledged them, and then released them back into the room. It was the only way she could maintain her sanity.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder, “Ya alrigh’? Ya always quiet, but rarely ever see ya be still as death.” Concern, worry, anxiety; it all tasted like the bitter pith of citrus. She hated it instantly. She shook her head and forced a smile. She had taught herself ASL years ago, about two years after her Siren Song had reared its ugly head and all but forced her to be Mute. But she had learned that nearly no one knew ASL unless they had a loved one that was Mute or Deaf. Which, in turn, relegated her to notebooks or her phone’s talk-to-speech function. Her phone was dead, and she was clearly without a notebook, so that left her with the world’s worst rendition of charades as her only option of communication. So for now, she just went with a simple, unmistakable, hand sign. She held her pinky, ring, and middle fingers up; while her thumb and pointer made a circle. The universal sign for ‘Ok’, followed by pointing to herself.

Gambit chuckled, “One’a dees days, gonna hear that voice a’yers. But alrigh’, you’re good. I hear ya, loud and clear Petite. I’ll walk ya t’yer room.” Before she could physically protest, he placed his hand on her lower back and started to guide her. His emotions made it clear that he didn’t think she couldn’t take care of herself, which she would have taken immediate offense to, but he still felt protective. Curious, and was that affection? She bit her lip, suddenly shy and unsure of herself. She wasn’t sure what to make of those emotions.

“Here ya’re Petite. How’s ‘bout you head on in and get some shuteye, yeah?” He waited until she had opened her door and stepped over the threshold before he leaned into her space, crowding her against the doorway, yet leaving her a clear escape if she so chose, “And Petite? I happen ta be fond of chats. Da kitten ya made Stormy was cute. Still waitin’ fer my lil’ surprise.” He pressed the words against the shell of her ear, making her heartrate kick into triple time. And when he pressed a fleeting; barely there to the point of making her think she might have imaged it, kiss against her jaw, just under her ear, she almost felt like the world as a whole had come to a screeching halt.

He leaned back and gave her a playful wink and casual wave, “Fais de beaux rêves, Petite. Sweet dreams.” And like that, he was gone. And she was left to try and figure out if she had imagined everything that had happened, or if it had been real.

[ifindtheartifacts]

So the girl yesterday was like there’s no more hieroglyphs at all so I was like why would I go to school where I can’t even study what my focus is. So today I learn it’s hieratic and I’m like ma’am they’re different but like it’s Egyptian language so why would you say there’s nothing. So I had a MASSIVE freak out over nothing. BUT ALSO like shouldn’t the university or my department be talking to me about classes??? Like I have no idea what’s going on I went to SEVEN different classes this week which is a lot. Anyway I have no idea what’s happening and even if I can’t do language now i dont know if I want to stay somewhere where I have no idea what’s going on everyday that’s just not my vibe

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[freyaphoria]

Hello! Since I can't save the writings in my drafts and your request is currently stuck in my drafts, I have to post it this way. I hope you can see your request T_T By the way, I wrote this 4 times, and the universe prevented me from writing it. Normally it was over 2k words, but most of it was deleted and I forgot what I wrote. Anyway, Love u!♡

Look Like a Freak

tw: nerd!Seonghwa x fem!reader, oral(giving mentioned, receiving), squirting, slapping, fingering, vibrator using, degradation, bondage, overstimulation

wc: 1.5k

taglist: @aim-blossom @matzrionette

“Seonghwa, are we really going to do it here?” It was too late to ask now. He made an approving noise as he abused your pussy between. To your surprise, he could hear you and respond. Normally, after tasting you, Seonghwa would be pussy drunk and wouldn't hear or see anything.

Seonghwa's room was the most virginity room you've ever seen. There were more Star Wars figures and Legos than you could count. And what is it? On the top shelf of the display case, on top of the Star Wars legos, there were colorful house legos and animals next to them, which you might think were related to animal crossing which might attract the attention of 5-year-old children.

You and Seonghwa went to the same university and met at the dance club. When you first met him, he was very quiet, buried in his book with a book by an unknown author in his hand and he was wearing the metal-framed glasses he was currently wearing, not communicating with anyone. Even though most people avoided communicating with him, you felt his potential in his eyes under those big glasses. You had initiated the first communication and asked him something about the star wars lego keychain hanging on his bag, and before you knew how the things had developed, he had pulled you into the back storage and made out with you. After a while, you started fucking after every dance lesson and became addicted to each other. You were nothing but a fuck buddy, but you'd still meet up at his house every once in a while to build Legos together like cute couple, and as you can imagine, your night would end up in his bed, trying to recover, with his cum dripping down between your legs.

Same thing today, you met at his house to play his favorite game, the two of you lying in bed while Seonghwa was playing Animal Crossing on his Nintendo. But you had made him horny without knowing why, and Seonghwa stopped his game, which was an unexpected move from him, and started eating you. Animal Crossing, where you played with Seonghwa, was still on on the TV and calm music was playing.

"Can you at least turn off that game? It's ruining the whole mood-" You were cut off by Seonghwa shoving your panties into your mouth. "Don't tire that beautiful mouth of yours by talking, you will be tired enough when I put my dick down your throat."

Who would believe that someone as nerdy as him could make you this wet? If you told your friends who knew him, they would all think you went crazy. But right now, you were in his bed with your legs wide open and you were dripping, Animal Crossing in front of you, Star Wars figures next to you, and a nerd Seonghwa losing himself between your legs.

When Seonghwa started using his fingers as well, you realized you wouldn't last long. He was eating you out and fingering you so professionally that you were seeing stars every time, your legs shaking uncontrollably and squirting on him. And so it was, the moment you felt his fingers inside you, curls them up and abusing your sweet spot while his tongue stimulates your clitoris, you couldn't hold back that ball that was growing in your belly any longer and you came into his mouth. Your voice came out as a muffled moan through your underwear in your mouth. "Oh but I couldn't hear you clearly, looks like we're going to do it again." He pulled the fabric from your mouth and kissed you hungryly. Since he still didn't remove his fingers from you, you continued to spasm uncontrollably around his fingers and began to squirm from the overstimulation.

"What is that? You got tired a little early for a slut like you. Open your legs." As you tried to close your legs, Seonghwa forced them open. When you closed them again, you were startled by the sound of him slapping your thigh hard. "You want to be a brat? Okay then." He let go of your legs and headed towards his desk. He opened his drawer, took the rope next to a lot of Animal crossing cards, closed the drawer hard and turned towards you. You held back your laughter when you saw the colored cards. He adjusted the thin metal-framed glasses that fell on the tip of his nose, found the end of the rope and started wrapping it around your wrists.

"Hwa, I'm getting rope burns, haven't you found that furry handcuff yet?" He tied the rope tightly around your wrists, he bent your leg towards you and brought your ankle closer to your hands and tied the rest of it to your ankles. "No I couldn't. And if you stop squirming, you won't get a burn." After tying your other side in the same way, he checked its strength and made sure that it was not loose. He looked at you, his masterpiece, from head to toe, then he spanked your pussy that you had forced open and exposed for him, and he moved towards your upper body. You let out a small scream at the sudden feeling of pain. He tied your upper body by looping the rope around your chest and tying it over your arm; so it stabilized your arms and prevented you from closing your legs.

"Now, what should we do with you?" You felt even wetter with the feeling of being restricted and having all your control in his hands. The feeling of emptiness inside you was becoming unbearable and if he didn't fuck you soon, you would start crying and whining from frustration. "Just fuck me already."

The left side of his mouth lifted up and laughed slyly. A deep chuckle escaped his throat. "No no, I won't give you what you want that easily." This time, he opened the drawer where he kept your toys under the previous drawer and took out the pink vibrator with remote control. When you think about what he did to you with it, your heart starts to lose its rhythm and the adrenaline in your body begins to tickle your pussy waiting to be filled. The vibrator that he play with you for hours and eventually makes you squirm from overstimulation and cry and beg him to stop...

"How about this? No coming until I finish my new lego set. If you come, I won't fuck you tonight. Understood?" "Wait, at least let me suck you." He moved the toy in his hand over your folds before inserting it inside you, collecting your wetness on the toy. "Are you that much of a cock slave? Is there a day you don't spend without sucking me? Can't that little belly of yours do without taking my cum?" Your face turned red because of his dirty words. Yes, there wasn't a day without sucking him, but there wasn't a day without him eating you either. You were considered equal in every way. After all, you were a fuck buddy and that was your purpose. "Please just let me take you in my mouth" He balled up the panties he had just taken out of your mouth and put it back into your mouth. "Just deal with it for now. You can do it, right? It shouldn't be too hard."

After laughing sarcastically, he moved the vibrator over your folds for the last time and put it inside you. You gasped at the sudden feeling of being filled. The fact that you didn't know when Seonghwa would start the toy and when he would stop it made you nervous and excited. After licking his fingers, which got wet because he inserted the vibrator inside you, and tasting you again, got up from you and took the lego bag next to his wardrobe and placed it on his desk. "Which one do you think I should do?" He took out the Lego sets one by one from the paper bag and showed them all to you. The hilarity of your current situation and the Animal Crossing music playing in the background almost made you laugh. You were thankful for the fabric over your mouth that prevented you from laughing.

"Oh that's it!" He took out the 1394-piece Ghost & Phantom II set from the bag and placed it on the table. When he took the remote control of the vibrator and started to turn it on at medium level, you first lost your breath and started to squirm in your place. But he tied the ropes so tightly that you couldn't move much.

"Remember, no coming until I finish this set." He opened the box and placed the contents on the table, looking at you who began to tremble slightly. “You look like a slut.” And you look like a freak you thought.

[ferritins]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE (HOT TO GO!) | J. TODD

“I don't care how many years I've known you and how goddamn hot it is; we have not been friends for long enough to excuse you wearing short shorts in my home.”

“Short shorts?” Jason splutters. “They’re not fucking Daisy Dukes! These are US Army issue nylon tricot weave PT shorts! The Marines wear these!”

Yeah, you think, but I strongly doubt the Marines make them look borderline obscene.

Your eyes keep tracking to the thick, corded muscle of thighs, the ochre-gold of tanned skin cut through with dusk-rose scarring, the way the hems of his shorts strain against the sheer bulk of him.

(You’re ogling him. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to look away.)

“Actually, they phased silkies out of Marine PT uniform issue in 2011.” You say, mouth dry. “The US Armed Forces is responsible for many atrocities, but your slutty choice in shorts is not one of them.”

Realisation of what you've said strikes like a meteor through marzipan. You start throwing silent prayers to every god you can think of that Jason doesn’t pick up on a particular detail of your response.

You can practically see the moment that any divinity that exists in the universe decides to spite you, and the second half of your comment registers in Jason’s head.

He blinks hard, mouth dropping into a comedic little ‘o’.

“Wait a minute. You think my shorts are slutty?”

"...I think that if you can look me in the eye and tell me that three inch inseam shorts aren't a questionable choice when you're packing heat like that, you're lying to both me and yourself.” You reply diplomatically, tearing your eyes away from those delectable thighs.

Jason's ears flush crimson.

“Oh, like your shirt is so much better with that many buttons undone.”

You start, glancing down at yourself. Sure, there's more décolletage on show than you'd perhaps feel strictly comfortable with in public, but your shirt is hardly indecent. You look back up to find Jason's eyes trained on the hook of your collarbone, right at the point where it dips into the suprasternal notch; his eyes flit up to meet yours, pupils blown, as a patchy flush floods his cheeks.

“Wha— are you a bloody Victorian? Is showing a little bit of collarbone in my own apartment really scandalous enough to make you blush?” You ask, laughing a little with incredulity.

“Nothing Victorian about either of us, if the way you were staring at my legs is any indication about how your mind works. ”Jason retorts. Your jaw drops, and Jason snickers. “Yeah, sweetheart, I noticed.”

You feel your blood rush to your face at a frankly mortifying speed, Jason's smirk turning distinctly wolfish at your clear embarrassment.

“Okay, so we're both godless slatterns. Good chat. Glad we can end this here before I die of embarrassment.” You mutter.

Jason quirks an eyebrow.

“Slattern? Why, was ogling my thighs doing it for you, sweetheart? Thinking about how one of them would feel between your own?”

Jason's voice tips into a baritenor rumble at the end of the sentence, the sound sending heat dripping into the pit of your belly.

You can see that goddamn smirk on his face, caught somewhere between teasing and a flash of teeth, clearly enjoying every second of your fluster.

You've got to get your lick back.

“Depends. What was it you were thinking about, Jay? How pretty my collarbone might bruise after you sink your teeth into it? Or is touch more your thing, huh? Wondering about my skin under your fingers?”

The sound that leaves Jason is punched-out, his pupils blowing out to the size of dinner plates.

Your lips quirk up, something like victory in the corners of your smile.

Before you can gloat, you find yourself pressed up into the back of your sofa, Jason we'll and truly in your personal space.

Hovered over you, he’s all supposition; unyielding muscle and sharp lines, hard planes to your soft curves, flooding your nose with the scent of cologne and gunpowder.

You find yourself blinking up into a pair of ink-black pupils, ringed ever so faintly by teal.

“You are playing,” Jason murmurs, “a very dangerous game.”

“Am I winning?” You laugh.

“Fuck.” Jason mutters, husky and emphatic, then; “if you knew how long I’ve wanted—“

He breaks off, a savage huff of breath leaving him.

“Look, if you’re just teasing, I need you to say something now, before—“

With a roll of your eyes, you press your lips to his in a brief, close-mouthed kiss. When you pull back, Jason looks sun-stunned, hope and disbelief warring in his eyes.

“Idiot.” You snark fondly. “You didn’t answer my question. Am I winning?”

A moment, then two, then he’s brushing butterfly kisses to your cheeks, temple, the tip of your nose and the soft hinge of your jaw before, finally, finally, his lips press to yours, close-mouthed and chaste.

The two of you trade slow, shy kisses, soft and sweet until you catch Jason’s full bottom lip between your teeth, tugging slightly.

You hear his breath catch, and the kisses abruptly turn filthy; Jason licking at the seam of your lips until you open up for him, the electric pressure of his tongue against yours, sharp, incisors nipping sharply at your bottom lip.

You could die happily like this, you think; Jason’s hands rucking up your shirt, his mouth on yours, the knowledge of how he tastes burned into your synapses.

When you part, your chest is burning with air hunger, and your lips are spit-slick and puffy.

As much as you’d like to continue, you’re desperate for a cold drink, and only some of the sweat at your hairline is courtesy of your marathon make out.

You say as much to Jason, who groans, full throated, and sucks a savage mark into the side of your neck.

“Okay, you absolute menace. I’ll go grab you a coke, and as soon it gets below 95 in the shade, I’ll show you just how much of a winner you are.”

wallahi england is a godforsaken nation and not just because of r*shi s*nak and k*ir st*rmer. how is the humidity 81% at 11pm at night??? “marley aren’t u african and from desert country” YES. WHERE HOT ALSO MEANS DRY, AS GOD INTENDED.

at least desert country is arid heat.

anyway: Jason Todd good hot, England bad hot (and also a failed state run by cartoonishly corrupt devils, but enough abt britpol).

this one goes out to my fellow Jason Todd apologists @sems-diarie and @stars-n-sweets !!!

[writingouthere]

neighbor!sukuna x singlemom!reader. Sukuna picks up your daughter from school, he makes quite the impression and we learn more about his background.

cw: None really here except I guess this is low key becoming a slow burn, idk.

You were stuck at work and didn't have anyone else who could go get your daughter so you had asked Sukuna. The tattoo shop was usually slow in the evening this far into winter anyway, and he couldn't imagine saying no to you even if he'd been fully booked.

It felt strange to be going outside when it was still light out but Sukuna took in the sights as other people walked around, other parents clearly in the process of picking up their children from school.

Not that Bug was his kid, at least not as far you knew. Yet.

Sukuna didn't do things halfway, just wasn't in his nature. He knew he was moving fast, he had put up with his little brother Yuji's nervous protests at dinner the week before when he had explained his new living situation, but he wasn't going to slow things down when they were going so well.

For a long time, it had just been him and Yuji. There had been other relatives, like Yuji's grandfather and his freak of a mother, but the two had mostly bounced around foster homes and made due until Sukuna was old enough to take care of them both. Yuji was graduating college in the spring and Sukuna had been alone since he left for the dorms and now he had an apartment with some friends from school. Sukuna was proud of his brother, he was one of the only people he really gave a fuck about. Their lives had been hard and that had made Sukuna even harder. Yuji had never been like that, he had come through even kinder than the average person and Sukuna could admire the strength that showed in it's own way.

The point was, Sukuna had paid his dues. He had done right by his brother even when the world had done them so wrong and now he was ready for his reward. You and the little girl he was about to go get.

The daycare was inside of a little beige building, decorated with those tacky outlines of children playing and some fucking mural with birds that always seemed to cover the walls of places like this. Parents, mostly moms, walked out with their children in tow, asking about their days and zipping up coats. Sukuna noticed the double takes as they took him in, the way the adults seemed to pull their little ones closer. That was fine by him, he didn't want any of these fucking rugrats near him except his own.

"Ryomen Sukuna, mom should have added me to the pick-up list," he told your daughter's teacher, showing her his ID. She didn't react to his tattoos or general aura with anything but a smile and he supposed that childcare workers must be aware more than most that they really do let anyone be a parent.

"Of course, I'll go get her while you sign here," she said handing over a clipboard with the names of all the kids in the center along with blue pen with a fuzzy pompom attached to it. While he was signing his name he heard a familiar squeal and looked to see your daughter running towards him as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Sukuna!"

She tripped on some particularly tricky air and Sukuna moved forward to pick her up before she could face plant on the hard tile.

"Careful there bug, told mom I'd bring you home in one piece."

She ignored him and started babbling nonsense about her day that Sukuna could only really catch half of, but he nodded and hmmed as he finished signing her out and with a quick nod to the amused staff member, he headed out.

He shifted her on his hip so he could finish zipping up her coat. What was it with kids and their refusal to just zip up their damn coats? He remembered Yuji had been the same.

Bug continued to regale him with tales of her day until she eventually squirmed on his hip, the universal signal for "put me down until I get tired and whine for you to pick me up again" and Sukuna put her down on the sidewalk but took her backpack which he slung across his shoulder and then grabbed her hand with his. He could see people take second looks at the two of them and he supposed they cut quite the picture. The tall scary guy with tattoos carrying a pink princess backpack and the little girl pulling him down the sidewalk.

"We in a rush or something?"

Your daughter laughed and said something about being hungry for dinner with mommy which he could get behind. You both had only been living with him for a week but you already had a bit of a routine. He made breakfast in the morning while you got the kid ready but you always made dinner that was ready when he got home. It was nice, domestic. It felt like what he imagined life was like for people who had normal families when he had been a young kid. Holding a crying, hungry baby Yuji on his lap while they ate whatever he could scrounge up in whatever shithole they were in that week.

He remembered when Yuji had been the same age as your daughter and the idea of her ever living in the places they had, or going through the things they had made him pull her a little closer.

He wasn't going to lie to himself and say he was a good man or that he wanted you, the both of you, for some pure love nonsense but he knew he wanted you all the same. He had done terrible things and he would do them all over again if it led to this moment where he watched as your daughter cooed over the neighbor's dog. Said neighbor looking at him in confusion and fear as he told your daughter they needed to leave the fleabag alone and go home.

Later, when Sukuna was working on dinner and your daughter was sitting on the counter, "helping", he heard the sound of a key in the lock.

"I'm home," you called out and Sukuna called out that they were in the kitchen.

"Hey, thank you so much for getting her. I just wasn't going to make it in time," you said, picking up your daughter.

"No worries, we weren't busy at the shop today anyway." You hummed and smiled at him.

"Still."

"You can go ahead and change," he told you and you looked ready to protest when he went to grab your daughter from you but then Bug went willingly and he saw how you melted at the two of them. Good.

"Okay, but when I get back I'm taking over dinner."

Sukuna agreed and he watched as you walked away, admiring the way your clothes hugged your frame. He was glad the only witness to his hunger was a toddler who was more interested in poking his cheek than observing social cues.

The rest of the evening passed peacefully and Sukuna felt what he could only describe as content. When your daughter started to nod off on your shoulder, you got up from the couch to take her to bed, telling Sukuna he should stay and that you got it. With your daughter on one hip, you used your free hand to press against his shoulder and lean down to where he was still on the couch. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your lips pressing gently against his cheek and then with a quick goodnight, the two of you were in your room, the door closing with a quick 'click'.

The gesture had been so innocent and Sukuna would have mocked anyone he knew who got so flustered over a gesture as meaningless as a kiss on the cheek.

But how could any gesture be meaningless when it came from you?

[yuwuta]

JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?” 

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you. 

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him. 

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.” 

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever. 

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.” 

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension. 

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure. 

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work. 

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.” 

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.” 

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.” 

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?” 

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses. 

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft. 

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.” 

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.” 

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.” 

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint. 

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch. 

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you. 

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek. 

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.” 

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.” 

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.” 

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.” 

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.” 

“And park it where?” 

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here. 

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.” 

“Yours will be towed by then.” 

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.” 

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.” 

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?” 

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea. 

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat. 

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—” 

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?” 

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.” 

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!” 

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people. 

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights. 

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.” 

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice. 

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room. 

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be. 

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ THIEF! ★

Based off this ask by @raphuna-nekomada !!

The first time, Neuvillette brushed it off as if nothing had happened.

He spent the entire morning looking for his dedicated Monday bow, black with silver intricacies that you personally picked out for him many years ago.

"Must be a sign from the universe not to go into work," you hummed from the bed, rolling over and inviting him back under the blanket. He hadn't indulged you on Monday, instead opting to use his Tuesday ribbon and huffing about how he would find the missing article later.

The second time it happened, he was suspicious.

Two days in a row his ribbon had gone missing, now his Wednesday ribbon had been used for Tuesday. It irked him, and while he had no other reason to suspect that you were the culprit, the way you beckoned him back to bed again flicked a switch in his mind.

Ultimately, he hadn't indulged you on Tuesday either.

The third time it happens, he saunters up to your side of the bed immediately.

"My love," he calls, and for a moment you think he hasn't caught you because he's lacking any sort of stern tone— the kind he would address Wriothesley with.

"Yes?" You peer up at him with a glimmer of mischief, clutching something to your chest. His eyes narrow and he kneels onto the bed beside you.

"Have you seen my ribbon?"

"I haven't."

"Are you sure? I'm certain I left it on the dresser last night."

"You must be imagining things, dearest."

You give him a sly, lazy smile and that's when he knows you're nothing but a terrible liar. He nearly scoffs in your face, leaning down closer so he can look at you with a hardening expression.

"And what exactly is your ploy here? Would you like me to wrestle it out of your hands?"

Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment before you laugh, clearly finding his suggestion humorous. "Would it keep you at home longer if you did?"

The gears turn in his head at your words, slow realization washing over him as you blink up innocently. (Feigning innocence, actually. Poorly.)

Ah, so that's what this is all about.

"You want me to stay home?"

A beat of silence. "And if I said yes?"

"You know my answer." Yet he hasn't pulled away, gotten off the bed, and left for work like he does every morning. In fact, you're pretty sure he's drawn a couple inches closer to you.

The fabric you stole from him suddenly wraps around the back of the neck and you rein him in until he's hovering just above you, arms and legs caging you in on either side.

"Got you," you sing quietly.

His gaze flickers down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "You got me," he repeats in faux defeat, swooping down to capture you in a kiss.

He starts to think that maybe a day off wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but he has more than one trial today and there is no one to fill his role in his absence.

Still, Neuvillette decides that he can come to a compromise if only to hold you like this before his busy day. Besides, if he didn't indulge you now this would never end.

"Ten more minutes."

"Ouch. Stingy."

He smothers you under his body so you'll stop talking.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[yandere--stuck]

NEED to know your thoughts on a yandere bill cipher

⚠️ Listen, pal, I KNOW why you're reading this. You've got a crush on YOURS TRULY! That's right, buddy, the cat's outta the bag! Well, not like the cat was ever really in the bag to begin with. What? Didn't think my all-seeing eye would spy you making goo-goo eyes at artistic depictions of me? AHAHA, aw, hey! Nothing to be embarrassed about. It's not like I can blame you, I mean, have you met me? A winning personality, great sense of humor, beautiful singing voice - I'm a total catch! And between you and me, you have better taste than the rest of your species’ population.

👁 There are probably numerous reason why you like stuff like this: The obsession, the possessive behavior, the VIOLENCE. Sure sounds like romance to ME! But as for you… Is it the abandonment issues? Lack of validation in your life? Feeling misunderstood and ostracized by the world? Loneliness? A desire for an escape into a fictional world? Or are you like me? Is romance just no good without the true passion of twisted devotion and obsession? There's no need to LIE! We're kindred spirits, you and I.

⚠️ I know just how you feel. You've been kicked down, laughed at, and made to feel small. You've gone unappreciated by blind MORONS who wouldn't know greatness if it melted their eyeballs out their ears. Because you are MEANT for greatness. You are meant for something more, and I bet it burns you to know that. That you're better than all of them. That they're nothing without you, and they DESERVE nothing. They deserve to BE nothing. I know just how you feel because I was in your place. Surrounded by flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams. HA, and I sure showed them. WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, HUH? ME!!!!!!

👁 The point is, I know you. I've had my eye on you for quite a while, kid. Q U I T E A W H I L E. And might I say, out of all the flesh bags that have clogged my vision over the centuries, YOU'RE clearly the best looking outta all of ‘em, hot stuff. But looks aren't everything, of course! You've got a personality to match. Gotta admit, it's cute how you get so invested in your interests, the little hobbies you pick up, just watching you go about your day is like the universe’s greatest reality TV show starring my favorite person in the multiverse! OH, I could just decaptiate you and nuzzle your fleshy little head in an approximation of a kiss right now!!!

⚠️ So, c'mon, just let me in. Shake my hand! Let's make a deal. No matter how big or small! And it’s not just for the purpose of liberating your dimension, no. I want to really get under your skin. To feel what it's like to be in the body of my favorite person. As close as two beings can get, closer than you can get with unworthy specimens of your own kind, more intimate than any experience in the world. I want to be that close to you. Because you're mine. You're MY HUMAN and NOTHING WILL CHANGE THAT. Y'HEAR ME?

👁 So, you might as well accept that you and me are destined, kid. The signs are all there. So, if I were you (and I could be, if you'd just let me), I'd do this the easy way. Because right now, there's two ways this can go down. The easy way: You summon me, and we make a deal. Anything your precious human heart desires - and more! You'll be my precious human pet, my puppet, my toy. Mine to own and have rule beside me! You'll prove everyone who put you down wrong! Anything you want - love, money, fame, worship, vengeance - it'll all be yours, and I'll give it to you. Because I want you to be happy. Because I want what's best for you. Because I’M the only one who actually cares about you. Everything you wanted will be yours. And there'll be an eternal party to celebrate our eternal love… Or, you could do this the hard way. Cause I'm gettin’ outta here one way or another. And when I do, well… I don't think you'd like being locked up in The Love Cage to be TORTURED until you reciprocate my feelings and see the light. I'd say I wouldn't want to, but that'd be lying. So, it's probably not a good idea to give me more of a reason to. So, whaddaya say? You know you deserve the best. Shake my hand and join the winning team. Either way, you're mine.

[palskippah]

Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!wonwoo, wonwoo's pov, some second hand embarrassment, afab reader, smut, phone sex, masturbation (m and f receiving), etc.

wc: 1638

part 1, part 2

a/n: loser!wonwoo is back 🫡

masterlist

wonwoo felt like he was in over his head.

it had been months that he had spent pining over you – watching you from afar and cringing at himself any time he'd finally meet your eyes and immediately look away in embarrassment at being caught. he was far too shy to ever even interact with you, often physically running away from you when he'd see you approaching.

despite being assigned as partners for the year book committee, he saw himself unable to even interact with you, maintaining a distance and keeping eye contact to a minimum.

even with all the precautions he took to reduce interactions with you as much as possible, he couldn't help but be insanely drawn to you. having to attend every school event with you proved to be a challenge, especially when it came to restraining his immense interest you. with a camera in hand and the prettiest subject in front of him, he couldn't help himself in sneaking a few pictures of you every now and then.

the pictures were entirely innocent in nature. just a few shots of you from afar, of your silhouette against the sunrise, of your natural state as you interacted with others. he was just enthralled by your beauty, needing to hold physical proof of it (especially since he knew he could never grow the balls to even attempt to actually make you his).

but now he was here, in this strange, yet enticing, situation.

in no universe had he ever expected you to show interest in him, much less in the way you did last night on his bed. you had been so sure of your want for him, starting with a few compliments (which inflated his ego immensely) and moving onto touches that he could still feel the traces of. your beauty had been even more breathtaking up close. he had seen every inch of you, quickly becoming addicted to your skin against his.

yet he had woken up alone this morning.

cuddling all night long, wonwoo received the best sleep of his life, having woken up at some point into the night with a reminder of last night's events when he felt your body pressed up against him. but now all that was left was an empty side of the bed with a surprise you had left behind.

his laptop laid where you had once been, closed but facing him. he knew he had not left it there last night, so it was clear to him you had left it there for him to see. opening it took his breath away, heart dropping all the way to his ass.

the first thing he saw was the open folder of his pictures of you – the candids he kept so close to his heart. next, he saw another tab open, displaying a few low quality pictures you had likely taken while he was asleep.

his lips instantly ran dry.

your hair was messy from your sleep, lips swollen from all the kisses he'd given you – kisses he could still taste ob his lips. the view displayed you from your chest up, bare breasts proudly making him lose his mind with their mere appearance. you had taken a few shots, cheeky smile on your face while you winked and stuck your tongue out in some of them, clearly teasing him. next to it all, you had left a brief message displayed on his notes app which made wonwoo's skin crawl in anticipation

some more pictures for your collection ;)

facetime me when you wake up? <3

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

wonwoo was surely in over his head, but he had no time to think about that as he scrambled for his phone, dialing your number as fast as he could.

you picked up within three rings.

"nonu?," your voice already had traces of lust in it, making wonwoo gulp in anticipation.

you were laying in bed, hair still quite messy and a sleepy look in your eyes. it appeared that you'd left early in the morning and caught some more sleep before wonwoo could even have the chance to realize you had left.

"h-hi."

unlike you, his phone was pointed upwards, showing his ceiling rather than himself. he felt far too vulnerable to show himself despite having been with you just last night.

"baby," you whined, "wanna see you. show me? i'll make it worth your while," you sing-sang at him, knowing he couldnt resist a single word from you.

grabbing his phone with shaky hands, he pointed it at himself, now able to show you the mess that he was with just the mere sight of your breasts that you had left behind for him to find.

you chuckled, "did you like my pictures, nonu?"

that's when he panicked. he had completely forgotten the embarrassment of having a secret folder of your photos as soon as he'd seen the new ones.

fuck. this was so mortifying.

his worry must've shown in his face, as you interrupted his thoughts almost immediately.

"it's okay, baby, i don't mind. just wanted to help you out a little," you giggled, "i'm touched, really."

"i'm so sorry, i-"

"what did i just say, nonu? it's fine. so adorable that you'd keep such pretty pictures of me," you smiled as you repositioned yourself, leaning on one elbow and lowering the camera enough to show the cleavage you were sporting, "now tell me – did you like my pictures?"

"y-yes", he breathed, "thank you for- for the pictures. you look so pretty, i- can i keep them? fuck, i'm sorry, just- you look so beautiful," he stammered pathetically.

your response was yet another giggle, "of course, cutie. they're for you to keep," you paused, "but on one condition ..."

"a-anything."

"show me how much you liked them?", you made eyes at him, batting your eyelashes in a way that made wonwoo want to melt into his bed.

"o-oh, i-"

"lemme see? please?", you pouted, repositioning yourself again to sit up a bit more.

"show you? i- i don't-"

"want me to start?", you went to play with the straps of your tank top, not truly removing them but simply rolling them a bit to tease him.

nodding dumbly, he stared right into the phone with wide eyes, lip finding its way between his teeth at the sight of you beginning to pull off your top.

moments later and you were shirtless, having set the phone down in front of you as you sat criss cross and began to softly play with your tits for him.

"y-you're so- fuck, you're so pretty, i- please, i want ... fuck," he had no idea what he was begging for, but he needed more of it. he needed some sort of friction to fix the boner he had been forming from the moment he saw those pictures.

"it's your turn, nonu," you sighed as you toyed with your nipples, "show me that pretty cock, baby."

he was too lustful to feel shy anymore, simply nodding as he set up his phone so you could see him take out his cock, hands immediately getting to work as groans filled his room.

"so pretty, nonu ... fuck, such a gorgeous cock," you sighed as one of your hands snuck under your shorts, disappearing into a land wonwoo wanted to explore oh-so badly.

"can't wait to have you again, baby. you were so good for me last night. so sweet and made me feel so so good," your eyes were closed in pleasure as you sighed praise about him.

"m-me? you made m-me lose my mind," his moans were getting breathier as his fist went crazy on his cock, eyes hooded yet still glued to you, "i'll never get over it. you're so p-perfect. need you again, fuck, please. tell me i can have you again, i need- need to have you," he practically whined.

"oh, nonu," you cried as your fingers fiddled on your cunt, "i'll give you anything you want. so fucking good for me. thought you didn't like me, shit. was so sad cause you kept avoiding me, and- and-"

"no!", he practically growled, knowing his end was coming by how desperately he kept humping into his hand, "like you so much. i was too shy, too- too much of a fucking loser to talk to you," he admitted, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he attempted to drive himself to his orgasm, "m g-gonna cum, fuck, i- i like you so much, i promise," he repeated once more, silently begging for you to goad him into cumming.

"like you too, nonu, i- i'll cum with you. okay, baby? just keep playing with your cock, 'm almost there," one of your hands went back up to your tits, pulling and pinching at your nipples in a way that had wonwoo envious those were not his lips wrapping around them.

a tiny, pitchy whine from you was what broke wonwoo's resolve, making him cum into his fist while the rest went flying onto his stomach and sheets, a deep groan accompanying his release. he was able to catch most of yours as you came at the sight of him, crying out 'nonu' and a few expletives in the midst of praising him.

you hummed once you recollected yourself, offering him a teasing smile once more before reaching your phone to wordlessly hang up, only offering him a wink before pressing the button.

wonwoo sat there in disbelief for a few seconds before receiving a new notification from his phone, immediately taking a hold of it to check it.

this is my address:

come over? ;)

bring your camera <3

wonwoo had never jumped up faster, doing a messy job of cleaning himself up and running to get some sweats before grabbing his instant camera and running out the door.

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader

warnings: angst <3; VERY LONG

wrote this listening to roses <3

Rafe Cameron held grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that. 

Fucking Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team. Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back. 

The humiliation was killing him. 

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he wanted it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t just enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not just by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really. To prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help of course.

And that’s when he noticed you.

Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a good choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like it was your superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party. You didn’t utter a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Hell, he didn’t even know you were a cheerleader until that night. 

Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica. 

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background. 

You were perfect.

If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new queen of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought. 

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. ‘M doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, and honestly, it made the challenge even sweeter.

 “You think so?” he said, his tone light but with an edge of determination. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, leaned forward with a smirk. “Come on, Cameron. You really think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t some movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot. Jessica had something that can’t be taught.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. She learned how to act the part, and I can do the same with her.”

Like a school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were. 

Kelce took a swig of his drink, clearly enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a long way to go, my guy.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months. By the end of it, she’ll be turning heads. Maybe even more.”

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I’ll bet you a grand you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand says you can’t turn her into the hottest girl in school.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted with determination. “You’re on,” he said, without hesitation. “In a month or two, you’ll be handing me that fucking cash, and she’ll be the one everyone’s talking about. Looking all pretty in my arms.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again, still grinning as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

He clinked his glass with theirs, the bet sealed. 

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless. 

It was so good that even in his drunken haze, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed, like you were someone who mattered. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. And with Jessica, it had been easy—too easy. She’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal. 

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice. At first, he didn’t approach you, just observed. 

He had to figure out how to crack the code, how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took a week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf. “Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, a little startled, but nodded, shifting your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To make you feel special, to pull you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He knew he still had to tread carefully. The wrong move could send you running, and he couldn’t afford that.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. He noticed the way your hand shook slightly when you turned the page. Rafe leaned in a little closer, just enough to make his presence known without crowding you.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there. “I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were surprised. Probably didn't expect him to know you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you. “You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you actually know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push, didn’t try too hard. He wanted you to get comfortable with him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

The way you blurted the words out told him you hadn’t meant to say it. 

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen in his hand. He could feel the familiar anger bubbling up, but he forced it down, keeping his expression calm. This was exactly what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name being brought up, especially by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that. 

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was just a painful memory he was trying to move past. “Oh,” he said softly, his voice controlled and measured. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, clearly regretting bringing it up. “Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, as if he was grateful for your concern. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh as if he was relieved to talk about it, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle. “I guess it’s just one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page. 

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he quickly disguised it as a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, well, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

He noticed the way you seemed to relax as if you were relieved that he wasn’t angry. He needed to shift the conversation away from Jessica, and back to you, where it should be. “But hey,” he said, his voice brightening as if he was genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you looked away, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, his smile softening, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with those wide eyes, as if you were trying to figure him out. Rafe held your gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

 “Anytime."

It was a perfect conversation, one that made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal, something real. And from the look on your face, it worked.

But inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, even indirectly. It was a reminder of why he was doing this in the first place. 

He plastered on another smile, picking up his pen and tapping it lightly against his notebook. “So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

As you both turned your attention back to your notes, Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction. He was winning that bet on way or another. 

Over the next few weeks, Rafe made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel noticed, special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and with every passing day, you were warming up to him more and more.

He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention. The change was gradual, but it was happening, and Rafe could see it.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, the kind of place you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you belonged in a world that had always seemed so out of reach. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk. You hesitated, biting your lip, feeling out of place just imagining yourself in his world.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

His gaze was so earnest, so convincing, that you found yourself nodding. “Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

The first party was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that felt worlds away from where you belonged. 

But Rafe stayed close. 

The moment you walked in, the loud music and flashing lights overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, who noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd. He was different tonight—more confident, more assertive. 

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to ignore. People were noticing. Whispering. It was exactly what Rafe wanted.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe kept you close as he greeted them, his hand never leaving your back.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, his smirk growing. “Well, well, Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, his smile more genuine. “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, feeling the weight of their attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away, replaced by something more calculating as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper leaned against the counter, his gaze following you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, his expression hardening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “Just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica. And if he pulls this off, it’s gonna be legendary.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—something he quickly buried as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand.

When you returned to the group, his expression softened instantly. He slipped back into the charming, attentive guy he’d been playing for you all night.

“Got something good?” he asked, nodding towards your drink.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

He snorted, nodding approvingly. “Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

The night went on like that, Rafe playing the perfect gentleman, always by your side, making sure you were comfortable, that you were enjoying yourself. He introduced you to more people, his arm around your shoulders, subtly guiding you through the social maze with ease. And every time you excused yourself—whether to grab another drink or use the restroom—his demeanor shifted. The smile would slip, and he’d share knowing looks with his friends, a silent acknowledgment of the game they were playing.

But you didn’t see any of that. 

You saw the guy who made you feel like you were finally part of something bigger, like you belonged. And as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing more, laughing, talking, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself start to come down.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, and tonight was just the beginning. He was getting what he wanted.

But as he watched you laugh at something Kelce said, genuinely enjoying yourself, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else. He quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself why he was doing this.

He knew better than to get too comfortable. 

He knew his ex wouldn’t stay out of his business forever, and sure enough, she confronted him right before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her right away, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort. But he couldn’t resist; he turned to her, keeping his expression neutral. “What’s up?”

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him. Her voice was low, almost pleading. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, clearly not in the mood for games. “Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

Jessica’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was something else there too—guilt. 

“No. You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He leaned in closer, his smirk turning cold. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes—the way she’d smiled at him. The same smile she had for someone else, “You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

"Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw, every word she said feeling like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted to lash out, to tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done. But instead, he just stared at her, his eyes hard and cold.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention shifted from her. She had no right to lecture him, no right to tell him what to do.

This was about revenge, about proving a point. You were just a means to an end, nothing more.

But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game. 

Every time you smiled at him, every time you thanked him for something small, it chipped away at the cold resolve he had built up inside. He told himself it was just part of the plan, that getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself. 

He didn't even have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned. But instead of feeling satisfied, there was a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, yes, but it wasn’t just on the outside. You were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than just some popular guy who was doing you a favor. You were starting to care, and that terrified him.

One night, after another party where you had danced a little closer, laughed a little louder, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had. The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—it caught him off guard.

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d actually enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted at your words. 

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

For a split second, he saw you. Not as a means to an end, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

His expression faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone noticed, someone everyone wanted to be around. And it was all because of him. Rafe had given you that, but he knew he was taking something from you too—your innocence, your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence wavering as you turned to face him. There was something different in your gaze tonight, something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began, your voice a little hesitant.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? I mean, really. Was it because you felt sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the right words, the ones that wouldn’t hurt you. He could lie, like he’d been doing all along, or he could tell you the truth, risk everything.

But before he could answer, you continued, your voice softer now. “Because… I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck. He’d never expected this, never thought that you would be the one to make him feel something real, something that wasn’t just part of his stupid revenge plan.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, your eyes shining with gratitud. It was too much, too real, and Rafe could feel the walls he’d carefully constructed around his heart starting to crumble. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

He couldn’t let you get any closer. If you did, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan.

But pushing you away now, after all the effort he’d put in, would raise too many questions. So, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned down and kissed you.

It was gentle at first, testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something fragile. Your lips were soft against his, and for a moment, Rafe let himself forget why he was doing this. He let himself enjoy the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way you sighed softly into his mouth.

But then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, so much hope, and it made him want to break something, anything, just to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong. 

He knew it was wrong. But in that moment, with the way you were looking at him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself now. Not when he was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by something else—you.

Rafe’s resolve had been wavering for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a bit of a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing that smile.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already waiting outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle, but Rafe noticed. 

He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him that small smile that always made his chest tighten a little. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago. “If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over at you as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar pang in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it,” Rafe teased, but there was an edge of something else in his voice, something he couldn’t quite shake.

The drive to campus was easy, filled with light conversation and the comfortable silence that had developed between you two. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

He froze for a split second, his mind racing. Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? But he quickly forced a casual smile, nodding.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the moment he’d been dreading—the moment when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not?” he said, his tone light, but there was a hint of sincerity that even he didn’t expect. “I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest. After a moment, you nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I just... I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just... new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with classes, coffee breaks, and more of Rafe’s effortless charm. But that moment in the car stuck with him. You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more. 

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others. Some guys glanced your way, clearly noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat with you—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

As you two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her. He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that put him on edge.

The conversation flowed easily, with her complimenting you on something you’d done at practice the other day, and you blushing at the praise.

Rafe watched, a small smile on his face, but his mind was elsewhere. He could see how much you were changing, how you were starting to come into your own, and it was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

When Leila left after a few minutes, you turned to Rafe with a grin. “She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now,” Rafe replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked at him, your smile fading slightly. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing. Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

He leaned back in his chair. “About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

Rafe smiled back, but the guilt was back, stronger than ever. You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him.

As the afternoon wore on, he found himself more and more distracted by his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

Later that evening, after dropping you off at your dorm, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car. “I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, clearly not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice. “What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. It’s just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Like, genuinely nice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Kelce responded, his tone more serious.

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good. You’re flipping the script. Just remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add, but didn't.

“Look, Rafe, you’re in too deep to back out now. If you quit, she’ll still get hurt, and you’ll look like a fucking idiot. You gotta see this through. Just... keep your eye on the prize, okay? It’s not about her, it’s about Jessica.”

Rafe nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce said. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy leaned in, flashing you a charming smirk, clearly trying to flirt. He wanted to pummel his face to the wall. Rafe watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand casually resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

The sight made something twist in his chest, something dark and possessive that he hadn’t expected. He'd never felt like this before. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched, his jaw clenching.

You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. Rafe could tell you weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, something that burned hotter than the guilt. He wanted to go over there, to tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething, trying to keep his cool.

Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving. He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, his eyes locked on you, his heart pounding. You spotted him coming and smiled, but it fell when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could say another word, he was right in front of you, his hand cupping your face as he pulled you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. This was different. It was fierce, almost desperate as if he needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. His lips moved against yours with intensity, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. He didn’t care who was around, who was watching. 

All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You froze for a second, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. It was like all the tension, all the confusion, everything that had been building between you two, finally snapped.

Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a soft moan that only made him kiss you harder, his body pressing against yours like he couldn’t get enough.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering, but Rafe didn’t care. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him—dazed, flushed, your lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

“What... what was that?” you asked, your voice shaky, your eyes searching his for answers.

Rafe knew he should say something, explain himself, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you again. Instead, he just shook his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, still trying to process what had just happened, but there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him. 

He finally stepped back, but kept his hand on your waist, grounding you as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching. 

Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words. She’s mine.

When he looked back at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes and something else—something that looked a lot like longing.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe said, his voice softer now. “We’ve got class.”

You nodded, still a little dazed, and let him guide you out of the cafeteria, his hand never leaving yours. He was in deeper than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you looked at him like that, not when his heart was pounding like this.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours again. “Okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and trusting. Rafe knew he was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he leaned in for one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you began again, speaking against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming. His thumb traced the curve of your jawline.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. “I just… I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

And just like that, he got what he wanted. 

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t just happy; you were radiant. You’d become the most popular girl in school, and with him by your side, it felt like you were living in some sort of fairy tale. 

Every smile he gave you, every touch, every whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day. And you, you had never felt this alive.

But deep down, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside every time he looked into your trusting eyes.

He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was just a stupid game, something that seemed so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now. He told himself that he had forgotten about it, that it didn’t matter anymore.

After all, what you two had is real, right? And you, completely oblivious to the sinister origins of your relationship, continued to believe in the fairy tale.

Until it ended. 

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere, but there’s something different today—a tension you can’t quite place. 

As you’re zipping up your bag, you hear voices nearby, just around the corner. Leila and Jessica, their conversation low but unmistakable. You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause, your heart suddenly beating a little faster.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds tired, almost defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs, a dark amusement in her tone. "Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t think. The room spins around you, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, completely unaware of the devastation she’s causing. "It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

Before you know it, you’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words. Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, for some kind of escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

The ache in your chest doesn’t fade as you bolt from the locker room, tears hot on your cheeks. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, struggling to catch your breath. Rage and heartbreak twist inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through the doors without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears. The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, and the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills. But all of it fades into the background as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that intense focus you’ve always admired. For a moment, you hesitate, that familiar warmth of seeing him almost enough to make you stop. But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you like a wave, and the anger surges back, drowning out everything else.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, their eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring. The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!" you shout, your voice sharp, cutting through the noise of the practice.

He turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players stop, confusion rippling through the group. You always call him by his name.

The coach starts to say something, but you barely hear him. All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you. 

Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his brow furrowing.

You don’t answer immediately, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to hold yourself together.

But it’s impossible.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to something closer to horror, his mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing comes out. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief and pain, seems to have stunned him into silence.

For a moment, you just stare at each other. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding. But deep down, you already know the truth. You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that flicker of guilt, that flash of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control. You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him, to escape the unbearable weight of the truth.

His eyes are pleading, searching yours for something, anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing. No words, no excuses that can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, pain flashing across his face, but you can’t stop. It’s like all the anger, all the heartbreak, all the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent, and you don’t have the strength to hold it back. You can see the panic rising in him, the desperation as he realizes just how badly he’s messed up. He takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out, but you jerk away, 

“We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

“No.”

And with that, you leave. 

Rafe’s voice echoes behind you as you walk away, but you refuse to look back. The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

The locker room is cold and empty when you push open the door. The scent of body spray and sweat lingers in the air. You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. But before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you say, your voice barely holding steady.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained with desperation. “Not like this.”

You spin around, your eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

He takes a step closer, his hands raised as if to placate you, but you back away, your heart pounding. “I know I messed up,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “You let me believe that you cared about me, that everything was real, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, his voice cracking. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.” 

Rafe looks at you, his expression torn between guilt and desperation. 

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

For a moment, you see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more. But it's not enough.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him, your back pressing against the cold metal of the locker.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

Rafe takes another step closer, “Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Just give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You don’t get to pretend this is some kind of love story. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, really look at him, and all you see is the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie. You know that if you stay, if you let him talk, you might be tempted to forgive him. But you can’t. 

Not this time.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice thick with desperation.

But you’ve made up your mind. 

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you as if he can’t believe what you’re saying.

But then he sees the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you turn away from him, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. You hesitate for a split second. A small voice inside you screams to turn back, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction. 

The image of Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense, sears itself into your mind. 

The door slams shut behind him, and he leans against it, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious. Instead, there’s a hollowness, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind that asks, “What now?” He clenches his fists, trying to silence it, but the emptiness remains.

This time, he doesn’t follow you. 

[kiss-inthekitchen]

bonus! i said i wasn't posting anything new til this weekend but i just got up to s5 e2 and spencer reid with that lollipop has made me insane, here's a drabble i just wrote in like 30 mins. barely edited, hot off the presses, hope u like

sucker

~500 words

Who the hell let this man have a lollipop in the workplace?

You could kill Garcia. 

You’re trying to act normal– trying so hard– but he looks so good. His hair is longer than it's ever been, so beautifully curly at the ends and you just know it’s soft. You need to test the theory but you can’t and it kills you on even a regular day. 

But today is a thousand times worse. There’s something about Spencer since he got shot, he just seems to give less of a shit. It definitely shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. 

It doesn’t help that you’d come in to tell him that you all had to be on the jet in thirty, and then he and Garcia had started asking questions, so Spencer’s been looking up at you from his chair for the past few minutes and something about it is getting to you. 

So yeah, you’re trying not to get so immediately caught for staring at Spencer as he wraps his lips around the lollipop again, but you’re also not about to miss a single second of it. You’re not about to do yourself that disservice. 

You clear your throat as the news broadcast about your unsub ends. “Right. So we’re going to Louisville.” 

Spencer moves to get up, finally. Popping the candy in his mouth, he waves one– large, long-fingered– hand at Garcia and reaches for his crutches. 

What is wrong with you?? You need to get it together before you’re stuck on the jet with pretty boy and all of the most astute people-readers in the Western hemisphere. 

God, you hate your life. If the universe was kind and loving it wouldn’t have had you meet Spencer in the behavioral analysis unit. If the universe was kind and loving, Spencer would be yours already. 

This was some kind of cosmic joke. 

“You good?” he asks. He took the lollipop out of his mouth to speak to you, his eyebrows raised in the most annoyingly attractive way. 

“Yeah?” you scoff, as if he’s the one being weird. 

“Okay. Cause you told me we have to leave and now somehow you can’t keep up with the guy on crutches,” he muses from the doorway, while you haven’t moved an inch. 

This man. If he wasn’t injured you would hurt him. You might just do it anyway. 

You shoot him a sarcastic smile. “I was being polite.” 

“How chivalrous of you,” he says, putting the candy back in his mouth and crutching his way down the hall without a second glance. 

You look at Garcia, and it’s a mistake. You can read her like a book. “Don’t,” you warn, pointing at her, and she presses her lips together but is clearly smiling behind them. “And I am so mad at you for that,” you add, gesturing after him. 

“Wh– he just took one, it’s not like I–” 

“Save it!” you call, already halfway out the room. You hear her laugh behind you, and shake your head. You love that girl, but she was not doing you any favors. 

Fuck it. 

You breeze past Spencer in the hallway. “Keep up, pretty boy.” 

You hear his indignant, playful scoff behind you, and you can’t help the smirk that creeps onto your face.