#thank u for all the nice asks and just asks or

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question born of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[rafecameronssl4t]

How about Pope/JJ having a crush on Topper’s younger sister which is also Rafe’s girl and him making sure he knows his place and the fact that she’s his girl. Maybe she’s the island sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone, and sometimes she hangs out with the pogues (despite her brother and boyfriend hating that) and Rafe noticed how the boy looks at her and decides to put on a little show to prove she’s his girl 🫣🥹

Get in losers, we’re going shopping || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: This was so fun to write thank u for the request 🫶

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, possesive/jealous!rafe, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 1,837

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board

As you drive along, a smile creeps across your face when you notice JJ and Pope walking on the side of the road. You slow your car, matching their pace, which causes them to exchange puzzled glances before coming to a halt.

Rolling down your window, you lift your sunglasses, locking eyes with the two boys. Their confusion quickly shifts to recognition, and a mix of surprise and curiosity spreads across their faces.

“Hey boys,” you greet them with a smile. “Oh—hey, y/n,” Pope stammers, making you giggle. “This your new car?” JJ asks, patting the sleek Porsche. You hum in response, “want a ride?” you offer sweetly.

The boys exchange a quick glance before sprinting to the passenger side, shoving each other. In the end, Pope manages to snag the seat, and you laugh at their antics.

“I’ll sugar momma you guys today,” you wink at them, moving the stick into gear. They grin widely, and you drive off, the engine purring smoothly. “So, where are we—” Pope starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Rafe’s name flashes on the display, and the boys visibly tense up, their smiles fading as discomfort sets in.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. “Hi baby, whatcha doin’? Thought I might come over to yours in a few minutes, gotta see Top for something too” Rafe’s voice fills the car, a smooth and confident drawl.

“I’m out right now, and I won’t be home for a bit,” you reply, tapping your finger against the steering wheel. The boys sit in tense silence, trying to act nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. The cheerful energy from earlier is all but gone, replaced by a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

It’s silent on the other end before Rafe speaks up again. “Right, where—where are you right now? You with anyone?” he stutters, his tone shifting to one of suspicion. Pope’s eyes widen, and he freaks out. “I don’t think we should be here right now,” he mutters under his breath. Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, dude!” JJ whisper-yells, trying to keep his voice low. You throw JJ a look that clearly says he isn’t helping.

Hearing the voices, Rafe stands up from his seat, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who was that?” he questions sharply. You glance at the boys, feeling the weight of the situation.“Uh, I’m just with Pope and JJ,” you quietly admit, bracing yourself for Rafe’s reaction.

There’s a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear Rafe’s jaw clench. You know how your boyfriend feels about you hanging out with them, and the tension in the car thickens as you wait for his response.

“Are you serious right now? How many times have I told you I don’t want you hangin’ around with them?” He angrily says. You roll your eyes, already feeling the annoyance building. “Rafe, I’m not having this conversation with you right now, okay?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“No. We’re having this conversation right now. Does Topper even know you’re hanging out with those Pogues?” Rafe snaps back, his tone leaving no room for argument. You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Pope and JJ, who look increasingly uncomfortable.

“Rafe, not right now. I’m hanging up, okay? Hanging up right now—” you begin, but Rafe interjects, “Don’t you dare—”Before he can finish his sentence, you press end call. The car falls into an uneasy silence as Pope and JJ sit there quietly, processing what just happened.

“Uhm, so that just happened,” Pope says, staring out at the road in front of him as you chuckle. “I’m so sorry you guys had to hear that,” You apologetically say, biting your bottom lip anxiously, “Nah, don’t even worry about it,” JJ reassures you as you smile at him through the rearview mirror. “Do you guys wanna get some gelato? I’m craving some right now,” You offer as you turn into the main road of Kildare.

~

Opening the door to your house, you pause for a moment as your eyes fall on Topper and Rafe lounging on the sofa. Topper is scrolling through his phone, barely glancing up at your entrance, while Rafe reclines with a smug look on his face.

“Where have you been?” Topper asks, his gaze still fixed on his phone. You hesitate, glancing at Rafe, whose smirk only deepens. “Uh, did Rafe not tell you?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion since you for sure thought that he would tell your brother who shared the same disdain towards JJ and Pope.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Tell him what?” he says innocently, leaning back further into the cushions. “Oh, nothing. I was just hanging out with my friends,” You say as you slip off your sandals, Topper giving you and Rafe a suspicious look.

“Yeah, okay. How’s your new car, by the way? Have you scratched it yet? Cause if you did, you know Mom and Dad will throw a fit,” Topper says casually, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. You roll your eyes, feeling the familiar sting of his passive-aggressiveness. Without responding, you turn to leave the room.

Rafe gets up from the sofa and follows behind you, his expression unreadable. “How does my little sister end up with a Porsche for her first car anyway? It’s fuckin’ unfair,” Topper’s voice jeered from the adjacent room, his tone laced with mockery. “Shut up, Topper!” you retorted, frustration seeping into your voice as Rafe let out a soft, amused snort.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” you ask Rafe who shuts your door behind him as you set your shopping bags down on the ground. “Can I not see my girlfriend?” he says with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he lounges comfortably on your bed.

You pause, studying his expression for any hint of underlying motive. “I just thought you wouldn’t wait for me after I told you who I was hanging out with,” you say cautiously, carefully avoiding mentioning JJ or Pope by name.

Rafe’s response is nonchalant, almost dismissive. He simply shrugs, as if your concerns are of little importance to him. “Don’t care,” he replies coolly, his tone betraying no trace of emotion. You lean against your window, raising an eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Really?” you say, not quite believing him.

He hums, his expression unchanged. “Yeah, really.” You slowly nod, still feeling a bit skeptical. “You coming to the party tonight, right?” Rafe speaks up, breaking the tension as you throw your new clothes into your hamper. “I didn’t even know there was a party tonight, but sure,” you shrug, before collapsing on top of Rafe, who exaggerates a loud groan in response, playfully protesting your weight.

~

Getting out of the car, you could already feel the curious stares people were giving your way as Topper and Rafe walked up behind you. The beach was buzzing with activity, and you took in the scene, noting the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Scanning the crowd, you quickly spot JJ and Pope hanging out with a few others near the bonfire. They notice you and wave enthusiastically. A smile spreads across your face as you lift your hand, ready to wave back, but before you can, Rafe grabs your hand firmly.

“C’mon, let’s get some drinks,” he mutters against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. His tone is casual, but the grip on your hand leaves little room for argument. You glance back at JJ and Pope, who are now watching the interaction closely, their expressions shifting to concern.

Reluctantly, you let Rafe guide you towards the makeshift bar set up on the sand. Topper falls into step beside you, his presence adding to the tension. “Here,” Rafe passes you a drink as you gratefully take it.

“What are you looking at?” you ask, staring at Rafe’s side profile. He turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulls you closer. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he mutters, his tone trying to sound reassuring but tinged with irritation.

Following his earlier line of sight, you glance over and spot JJ and Pope. They’re laughing with a group of friends, seemingly unaware of Rafe’s intense gaze moments ago. Your stomach tightens as you realize he’s been watching them.

Rafe’s grip on you tightens ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature. You look back at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression is a mask of casual indifference. The contrast between his actions and his words leaves you feeling uneasy,

“Let’s go,” Rafe suddenly stands up, grabbing your hand abruptly, “What?” As soon as Rafe is standing up with you following along, you hear the whistles and low muttering of people. “Everyone shut the hell up!” Topper groans, watching his little sister and bestfriend walk off.

“Rafe, where are we going?” you ask, glancing back at the crowd, feeling the weight of their stares and the palpable tension in the air. “Shh, it’s fine, we’re just going back to your car,” Rafe says, pulling you closer. He leans in to kiss you, and you feel his smirk against your lips. His hands begin to wander, moving further down your back, his touch both familiar and possessive.

“Rafe,” you pull back slightly, your voice tinged with concern. “It’s fine, yeah? Please?” He looks at you with a familiar intensity, his eyes pleading yet commanding. It’s a look you know all too well, one that mixes affection with an undercurrent of control.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you unlock the car and gently push him before settling down on his lap. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close with an almost possessive firmness. You can feel the strength in his grip, the way he presses you against him, as if asserting his claim over you.

“You’re mine, y’know that, right?” he mutters against your neck, his breath warm and slightly ragged. “Mhm, I know that,” you mumble, your hands running through his hair. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing you even closer. His scent, a mix of cologne and the salty sea air, envelops you, creating an intoxicating mix of comfort and confinement.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing him better access to your neck as he continues to murmur possessive reassurances.

~

“Y/n?” You lift your head just as you finish zipping up your shorts. “Hey—” The greeting dies on your lips when you find yourself face to face with JJ. “What are you doing here?” you ask, awkwardly chuckling and smoothing down your hair. The sound of Rafe exiting the car behind you adds to the tension.

JJ’s eyes trace your appearance before flicking behind you to Rafe. “We were just about to, uh, leave,” he says, scratching his head. You nod awkwardly. “Hey, Y/n,” Pope greets as he joins the scene, sensing the uncomfortable vibe. You manage a smile at him. “Hi—” you start, but your words falter as Rafe steps up beside you, still buttoning his shirt. JJ and Pope stand there awkwardly, waiting, while Rafe ignores their presence.

“Did you guys have fun?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood. Rafe finally looks up, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at the boys. “Yeah, yeah, it was fun, I guess,” Pope replies hesitantly. JJ’s pained smile shifts between you and Rafe. “You guys sure did, huh?”

Rafe snorts at JJ’s comment, prompting you to slap his chest lightly. There was awkward silence before you speak up, “Did you guys want a lift back?” you offer.

Before they can respond, Rafe interjects, “Baby, you’ve had a few drinks already. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”JJ rolls his eyes at Rafe. “It’s fine, we’ll find our own way home,” Pope says, his smile tinged with sadness. You nod slowly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Rafe says dismissively, pulling you back towards the group. “Come on, babe.” You glance back at JJ and Pope one last time, mouthing a silent apology as they briefly wave goodbye. The expressions on their faces stay with you—a mix of disappointment and hurt that you can’t shake off.

[erwinsvow]

omg please do something about comforting rafe after his shitty day, like him trying shed a tear while laying on ur chest while u scratch his back and him being all needy for ur touch like nuzzling his nose into ur neck ughhh 🫣🫣

being nice to rafe was all too easy for you, even though he never felt like he deserved it.

you don't know exactly what had happened today. you'd been out with friends and then home with your family all day, but only because rafe had been busy. you knew it wasn't necessarily good, but you'd drop your plans in a heartbeat if rafe was free.

so you had gone all day without him—which was fine. you were able to handle it, you'd even had a good day.

but you had forgotten something—something important. so concerned with your own dependency on rafe and how much you wanted to see him, but still trying to behave as normally as possible around him, you didn't remember that rafe had also gone all day without you.

and normally, he could handle that too. if he was having a good day.

bad days without you were something entirely different for rafe, something close to unbearable. he couldn't pinpoint exactly why or when this had started, but over time, it had turned into a beast of its own.

even thinking about it made him angry. all rafe knew was that if he didn't see you in the next ten minutes, he was either going to break a door or break someone's bones.

and you, like the good girl you are, come open your door the second you hear rafe's truck pull up. it doesn't take long for you to see something's wrong, inviting rafe inside and both of you staying silent while you get up to your bedroom.

a haven of soft blankets and sweet-smelling candles, your room is your safe space. you hadn't realized it was rafe's too.

the thing with you and rafe has been, for some time now, that you don't need words to communicate all the time. sometimes looking at each other is enough to tell the other what's going on, and today was one of those times.

when rafe comes in, you close the door gently behind the two of you and then take a seat on the bed. he's still standing at the foot of the bed, and you glance up.

rafe looks, more than anything, tired. and you don't need to know why, or what caused it, or to ask him what's wrong. you just need him to feel better.

you take his hand in yours, smiling up at him when he finally glances down. you move up, resting against the headboard and trying to make as much space as possible for your boyfriend, even though he can never fit on your bed. still holding his hand, you tug it until he comes and joins you.

with still no words, you let him rest his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair. at first he just lays there but after a few minutes, you feel his hands snake around your waist, hearing a small sigh of what you hope is relief. and knowing that he feels better, you feel a little better too.

the two of you stay like that for a while—though you don't mind. you don't want it to end. rafe is always taking care of you and this feels like your chance to take care of him.

when rafe finally shuffles and gets up to sit beside you, you hear a quiet sniffle and look down to see some wet marks on your shirt. you immediately look up at rafe, taking his hand into yours again.

"it's gonna be okay, rafe." you really mean it, and you hope he believes you.

"yeah," he clears his throat and you look away, focusing on the pattern of your quilt. rafe lifts your face towards him, fingers moving to your jaw and tilting you in his direction, before he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "thanks, kid."

[noellefan101]

Quiet Love

Characters: Xiao, Heizou, Cyno, Wanderer, Albedo x mute!reader

Summary: You're mute, and cant talk? not a problem for your partner, they can find other ways to communicate, and honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: mute reader, kissing, most of them dont know sign language bc i said so and it makes this more interesting, idk man

Note: i feel like i accidentally made both the char and reader mute in some of them, I've tried to fix it though, so im sorry for that (and i also messed up some other shit im just missing brain cells n´ down bad) -love you

Xiao

Whom talks with you in touches and small notes.

He had seen no problem in your absence of speaking, he likes the quiet nights that you shared with him. The sounds of nature taking over your ears, it was nice, just standing beside you and looking out to the views of Liyue. he reaches out to hold your hand, though still not accustomed to the feeling, he does it anyway. and as his hand lightly squeezes yours, he feels your own squeezing his back, as if saying 'I love you'. your quiet conversations are sweet and only for you two to know about.

He leaves notes scattered around, as you do too. ones with little messages of your schedule and plans. ones written with more love than any other person could comprehend. notes shared between you and him. notes saying 'i loved that dish, could we make it again' and a reply under, 'of course, i'll do anything for you'. it seems simple and dumb, but a nice way to talk to each other anyway.

Heizou

Who likes when you just listen to him, and let him do anything he kind of wants to since you can't talk back, but he also loves when you just draw your thoughts on paper.

He loves to talk, but mostly loves when he gets to talk to you since you always listen to him so closely. he loves when he can just drag you to to places, but of course he's nice about it (kind of) and ask you if you wanna go to that new ramen shop that opened in the outskirts of Inazuma City, which he kind of answers for you because of course you do! in which you smile at (smile at him or else...)

He likes your little drawings, and especially when its a little puzzle he has to solve so he can understand what you're saying and loves to guess wrong purpose so he can get a reaction out of you. and even has a special sketchbook, that he keeps on him at all times. he also sometimes goes trough it and just smiles at all your little drawings. remembering the time that you drew it, and all the cute little faces you made when he teased you for how bad it looked.

Cyno

Who helps you talk with small drawings in the sand and learned sign language so he could communicate with you properly.

He's often out in the desert, and from time to time takes you with him. which makes it easy to express yourself when all you need is a stick, sometimes his spear if he lets you, and sand which is already in front of you at all times. the little drawings that symbol your love, so many hearts all over the sand it would be hard to count how many times you drew them. he gave you his cape at night when you were extra cold? you drew a heart around his feet as a 'thank u, i love you', in which he cutely (your words) responded with, "i love you too" right after.

Whom learned sign language just because he felt like you were left out a little, but also learned the wrong one at first so you had to help him and learn him some signs as well. but the first thing you learned him was how to say "i love you", but didn't tell him what it meant so you could do it without him noticing just for a little while longer.

Wanderer

Who hates being touched, but makes you touch his shoulder when you need something and gifts you a book so you can write to him when needed

He, despite hating when people touch him, he cant think of many other ways you could get his attention, so he wants you to touch him when you need him. it doesn't matter if he had an extra bad day, its the best way to get his attention, so touch him all you want. it is you after all, the love of his life, he would let you do whatever you wanted to do, just tap his shoulder and give him a few signs or point at something, anything you want you'll get.

Others would say that he would be annoyed at you for pushing a book up to his face every hour or so, but he surprisingly he doesn't get annoyed at all and "tolerates" you pretty well. in fact he loves when you just stand there and write in your little book, he thinks its adorable when you glare at him as a sign to wait for you to finish.

Albedo

Who is normally very quiet but when he's with you he loves to talk, but of course, he loves the times when it's just you and him sitting together in silence

He could be seen as quite shy if you didnt know him well, but when around you he was the complete opposite, talking about everything he did that day, was currently doing, what plans he had ext. he loves when you just listen to him, but if you ever tried pointing at smt to ask like yk 'whats this?' he would be overjoyed and you wouldn't be able to make him shut up for hours about that one thing.

He looked at you when you had put your hand in front of his sketchbook, you looked at him sweetly before kissing his cheek, catching him by surprise. he put down his sketchbook and kissed you back on your forehead. it was just a quiet moment between you two and you wouldn't have it any other way.

thx for reading i hope your day went/goes well, luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[wingedhallows]

prank gone wrong; marauders (sirius black)

pairing: marauders (sirius black) x reader | 2.1k words plot: the marauders prank one of your best friends, you're not too happy about it and take matters into your own hands, just to have one of them a bit smitten by you. authors note: hi, i brewed this up last night. I don't really know what this is but i hope u like it :) <3

navigation

“I forgot my textbook, fuck.” Amelia complained, hand on her forehead. You sighed and pushed your sunglasses up, squinting your eyes at her. You took a drag from your cigarette and spoke with a sigh.

“I’ll get it for you, I need another pack anyways.” She waved her hand, as if to swat your offer away. “You don’t have to.” She tried but you shook your head and lifted yourself to your feet. You took your ropes off, it was too hot anyways. “Just shut up.” You offered with a grin.

Without waiting for an answer you took off. It would be a rather long walk, the Slytherin dorm was the furthest away. You needed some time away from your the girls and a new pack of fags. 

Amelia, Philippa and Cecily were nice, not to misunderstand but they were shallow. Still you strangely loved them, how carefree they seemed. 

Their newest topic to gossip about was if Marlene Mckinnon had gotten a nose job over the summer break. She didn’t, not that you cared. She looked fine, just like she did the past five years.

You didn’t know her though, you didn’t know any Gryffindors to be honest, so you didn’t have any ground to speculate. 

The only Griffyindor you knew was Lily Evans. A muggle-born witch, not that that changed anything about her abilities.

She was kind, shy and had hung around with the infamous Marauders. Four boys who liked to play pranks on many. You didn’t care much, they never targeted you.

On your way back, your pack of cigarettes in your pocket and Amelia’s textbook in hand, you watched the sky, birds gliding above your head. You pushed a cigarette between your lips and lit it.

The smoke filled your lungs with a comforting feeling. You heaved a sigh and blew some more smoke through your lips. You wondered what they would talk about next? A poor Hufflepuff’s boobs or a Ravenclaws fake behavior to suck up to Slughorn?

You wouldn’t complain though, no matter how shallow they were, they were still your friends. They took care of you, cared for you and did their best to be good friends, since the first year they were all you had.

You caught sight of the courtyard and the blanket you had spread out to study on. The girls sat, laughing and talking. With another drag from your cigarette you flicked the stud away and made your way to the three.

“Here you are.” Philippa smiled at you. She patted the spot next to her and Amelia reached for the book in your hands.

“Thanks.” She smiled at you and you gave a smile back. “No problem.” 

“This is so good.” Cecily smiled and drank a bit more from a cup you never saw before.

“What’s that?” You asked as you leaned back, taking the sun in. “Iced coffee." She answered, her words slurred the tiniest bit. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“You okay, Cici?” Amelie asked as he placed her hand on the girl's shoulder who just nodded with a content grin on her lips.

She seemed… drunk?

“What’s up with her?” Philippa whispered as she looked at you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where’d you get that, Cici?” You tried but she kept drinking.

“She went to the toilet a few minutes ago and came back with the drink in hand. I figured she got it from the kitchens or something.” Amelia said, face worried.

Without much thinking you took the drink from Cecily and looked her straight in the eyes. “Who gave this to you?” She frowned but needed a moment to form the words in her mouth.

“Pot..Potter.”

She stammered and hot rage burned through your body. You never cared much about their pranks but to target a kind, loving girl who minded her business better than anybody else was infuriating.

You threw the cup to the ground and lifted yourself off the ground. “Get her some water, I’ll take care of this.” 

Amelia nodded and rummaged through her bag for a bottle. Philippa caressed Cecily’s hair and gave you a tight nod. You walked as fast as you could manage, hands cold and features angry.

Students stepped out of your way, eyes wide as they watched you march through the corridors. You caught sight of some Griffyindors, Lily to be accurate. They were sitting on a bench, giggling with each other.

“Where are they?” You spoke, interrupting their conversation. Mckinnon turned around, eyes squinted at you, Lily watched you with wide eyes.

“Who?” She tried but you crossed your arms with a roll of your eyes.

“Those idiots you hang around with, Potter and the others.” Alice winced and threw her gaze to the stone ground.

“What did they do?” Lily asked again as she raised to her feet.

“They fucked with one of my friends and I’m not too happy about that.” Marlene’s face softened, her mouth opening to speak. “Who-”Cecily.” Lily threw a hand over her mouth with a gasp.

“But, she’s so sweet.” You nodded, jaw tightening.

“Yeah, well. Sweet Cecily is now sitting in the yard, drugged out of her mind because Potter decided it would be funny.” Alice frowned and got to her feet as well.

“That’s too far.” She said and you nodded. “So, tell me where they’re hiding.” Lily sighed and nodded.

“They’re in our common room, password’s Dilligrout.” You nodded and gave her a sad smile.

“Thank you, Lily.” She turned to you again and gave you one as well. “They went too far this time, to drug Cecily. You better teach them a lesson.” You nodded and turned to walk away.

“Let me know how she is, when you see her.” You looked at her, not sure what to answer. With a nod you said. “I will.”

Outside the Griffyindor dorm you threw the password at the picture and it opened, whispering things like snake in the common room, how odd.

The room was dimly lit, quiet but faint voices could be heard. With slow steps you emerged into the warm place. Some first years almost shrieked at the sight of you but you only gave them a nod towards the stairs. Without much thinking, they fled the scene.

The morons were splayed out on the chairs and couch, laughing to each other. They haven’t noticed you yet. So you thought to change that and with fast steps you made your way to the empty chair before the fire. The voices stilled, silence embracing you.

“Y/N.” Sirius, the pureblood run away whispered. You didn’t answer but instead plucked a cigarette from your pack and lit it quickly. Dramatic, but who cares.

“I always knew that you lot had a knack for stupid pranks, I mean who doesn’t know.” You paused to take a drag. Potter sat himself up, Peter hadn’t moved since he watched you appear, face contorted in fear.

“But to drug someone in broad daylight, that's another level of idiotic.” James seemed to catch on and fumbled with his hands.

“What is it to you, who we prank?” You barked a laugh as you leaned forward. Remus couldn’t look you in the eyes, Sirius stared at you, not moving a limb.

“You don’t even care who you prank, now?” James sighed and crossed his legs, his arms crossed. 

“Let me enlighten you, Potter. Cecily Santoro, who you pranked is a very kind soul, one of my best friends, limbing behind in herbology, deathly afraid of frogs and loves coffee with all of her heart. But you don’t care about any of that because she’s a snake, a vicious horrible Slytherin. So when you pushed that cup in her hand this afternoon, she couldn’t say no. 

She loves coffee too much to think twice about taking anything from a Marauder. She probably thanked you with a smile on her face and you had a good laugh, right?

Well, she’s drugged out of her mind, she’ll fail her herbology exam and cry a good week about it. But you wouldn’t care about that, because she’s just another Slytherin, a too good enough reason to pass up on pranking her.”

He didn’t answer, Remus sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. You blew some smoke and shook your head.

“I hope you lot are proud of yourselves. You’re not an inch better than Malfoy or Nott.” Sirius stood and pushed his hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” James whispered.

You chuckled and threw the done fag into the fire which hissed upon the impact. “I’m not the one you should apologize to.” Sirius took a step towards you, face in a sorry twist.

“We fucked up big time then?.” He said. His eyes dared you, to argue with him. To fuel what he felt in his core.

James hissed at Sirius. “What the fuck are you doing?” He now stood in front of you.

“What do you want then?” His hands crossed he looked at you, eyes devouring your frame. Remus stood and put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. He swatted it away and proceeded to look at you.

“Apologize.” He nodded.

“You are all to apologize to Cecily or I’ll bring this matter to the headmaster.” James sighed and narrowed his eyes at you.

“So you’ll play your cards?” You had to chuckle. You pushed Sirius down onto the couch, faces mere inches apart. Sirius licked his lips, eyes swaying from your eyes to your lips.

“If I were to play my cards, you’d be expelled and not allowed to step even a toe back on school grounds, you daft idiot.” You gave him a small smile before you continued.

“Don’t think i don’t know the ridiculous rumors you guys spread about me but just to assure you, I might fulfill them soon if you anger me any more.” You patted his cheek and turned to leave. 

You turned around once more to face Sirius who watched you, his eyes bored into your face, he licked his lips as he watched you leave. Your eyebrows furrowed and you shook your head. 

Cecily was back to normal, Amelia and Philippa had taken her to the infirmary last night. Madam Pomfrey had complained on end but let her sober up nonetheless.

“I’m fine, really.” Cici threw Philippa a small smile and tried to snatch her bag from the taller girl. “Nuh uh.” She slapped her hand away and continued walking.

Just as you turned the corner four figures sprung to their feet. The Griffyindor boys walked up to you and obviously struggled to deliver the promised apology. You had to suppress a laugh at the sight of the four.

“What do you want?” Philippa snapped at them.

“We, umh, wanted to apologize for yesterday.” James begann.

“What we did was out of line.” Remus carried on.

“We regret it.” Peter almost whispered.

“After your dear Y/N gave us a good talking to, we apologize for what we did.” Sirius finished off. Cecily turned to you with a confused expression on her face.

You just shrugged and gave her a small smile. The girls didn’t answer but started walking.

You stayed behind and pushed a cigarette between your lips. Sirius was quick to raise his lighter to your lips.

“That was Oscar worthy.” You chuckled. James frowned and kicked with his feet before himself.

“Are we good now?” Remus tried but you huffed in amusement.

“Sure sure.” You puffed some smoke and took the cigarette to push it between Sirius’ lips. He stared down at you with darkened eyes.

“For the nerves.” You smiled.

He took a drag and blew the smoke above your head.

“You’re quite feisty.” You chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“First time for you?” He chuckled and took another drag. You took a step to leave them behind but Sirius was quick to hold onto your arm.

“Hogsmeade next friday?” He spoke, cigarette still hanging between his lips, some strands from his bun fell over his face and you would have to lie that you didn’t think he was attractive.

“Are you asking me out right now?” You asked with a grin on your face.

A grin formed on his face as he inspected your face.

“Will you?” You wringed your arm from his grip. You took a step towards him and took the cigarette from his mouth, took a drag and blew the smoke towards him.

“In your dreams, Black.”

He barked a laugh and watched you leave with the cigarette you had shared. Fuck, was he smitten.

[froyaoya]

back┊ next

MOUSETRAP! ← IWAIZUMI / AKAASHI SMAU EP6: FIRST NAME BASIS (BASE) ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ + WRITTEN⋆ ･

cw: swearing, innuendo, oikawa

｡･ﾟﾟ･ WRITTEN PORTION BELOW ✧･ﾟ: *

he’s right. it’s just the two of you. haji’s words during the drive repeat themselves to you :

“i like this beach because it’s almost never crowded. quiet place with a nice view, you know? gets you a break from.. everything else.” to which you hummed in agreement, cracking a joke about the french fry smell in his car—secretly thankful for the food he brought. you’d never actually thank him though, not if you had to trade that with the pink flush creeping up his cheeks as he stutters over his explanation.

it’s hard to believe you’ve never met before; you click so well. you wonder why you’ve never bumped into each other before.

his biceps flexed as he skillfully ripped a paper bag into a mat for your dinner. those can’t be just for show, you think. the worn in white tank he threw on rounded out the perfect effortlessly hot & sexy raw lifeguard look and HELLLL IT LOOKED GOOD ON HIM!!!!!!! ok now back to being poetic & literate

in the distance, a group of friends gathered for a game of beach volleyball. following your gaze, iwaizumi pauses mid sentence and nudges your arm gently. “you play any?”

you shake your head, laughing,

“not as good as my brother.”

but you’re already getting up.

— FACTLIST!

• this is my favorite ep so far :D not rlly a fact

• bokuto ate yn’s portion in hotpot in her stead

• making up for the lack of iwa in my last chapter, here’s a written part for my (our) man <3

• he actually spent 15 minutes in kuroo’s room asking him what to wear, facetimed oikawa too

author’s note: crying i want what they have +++ dear user eggyrocks if u see this I love ur posts more than anything and would gladly trade all my worldly possesions to keep bruised on the internet forever

TAGLIST — REPLY/ASK!

@needtoloveoutloud @rory-cakes @minaluvu @tenjikusstuff4 @cherrypieyourface @strawberrygloom1 @bows4life @suitstars @dreamsofnaughtiness

bolded didn’t work

yes my song choices are cracking me up let me have this

[moonselune]

lord im in a karlach drought pretty please give us karlach w/a shy reader who’s a badass when it comes to fighting and stuff but when it comes to having normal conversations and literally anything else they’re just really shy and it confuses her at first and then she’s like ohhhh. I just really love that one voice like when u switch over to her and she’s like “don’t be shy 😄”

You were in the middle of sharpening your sword, your hands moving with practiced precision as you prepared for the battles ahead. Fighting was easy for you—simple, straightforward. There were clear rules and objectives, and you excelled in that arena. It was everything else that seemed to trip you up.

As you worked, you noticed Karlach approaching, her powerful frame silhouetted against the dying light. You felt your heart skip a beat, the familiar flutter of nerves tightening in your chest. Karlach, the fierce warrior with a heart of gold, always seemed to bring out a different side of you—one that was awkward and shy, a stark contrast to your battlefield persona.

"Hey there, sharpening that sword again?" Karlach's voice was warm and teasing, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

You nodded, unable to meet her gaze directly. "Yeah, just… making sure it's ready."

Karlach chuckled and sat down beside you, her presence radiating a comforting heat. "You know, I've seen you take down an entire band of orcs without breaking a sweat. But every time we talk, you get all flustered. What's up with that?"

You mumbled something incoherent, your face heating up as you focused intently on your sword. Karlach's teasing smile grew wider as she leaned in closer, her breath tickling your ear.

"Could it be that you like me?" she asked, her tone playful yet curious.

Your hands fumbled, the whetstone slipping from your grip as you looked up at her, eyes wide with surprise and embarrassment. "I—uh—it's not like that, I mean, I just—"

Karlach laughed, a deep, hearty sound that made your heart skip another beat. "Oh, I see now. You are shy because you like me." She leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. "You know, there's no need to be shy around me. I'm not that scary, am I?"

You shook your head vigorously. "No, it's not that. It's just… talking is harder than fighting."

She regarded you thoughtfully for a moment before reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Well, I think it's kind of cute," she said softly. "And honestly, it's nice to see this side of you. It makes you… more real."

Her words sent a rush of warmth through you, and you dared to glance up at her, finding her gaze tender and encouraging. "Thanks, Karlach," you murmured, feeling a small smile tugging at your lips. "I guess I just don't want to mess things up."

"You could never mess things up," she replied, her tone sincere. "And if you ever do, we'll figure it out together. No need to be shy, alright?"

You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. "Alright."

Karlach's smile broadened, and she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. "Good. Now, how about we go over some battle strategies for tomorrow? And maybe after that, we can just… talk. No pressure, just us."

You felt your heart swell with gratitude and affection. "I'd like that."

As the night wore on, you and Karlach discussed tactics and shared stories, the conversation flowing more easily than you ever imagined it could. With her by your side, you felt your shyness gradually melt away, replaced by a growing confidence and a deeper connection.

And as you finally drifted off to sleep, you knew that with Karlach, you could face anything, on and off the battlefield.

[mimisplayground]

Toxic Gaz??? Toxic Gaz who has you meet the team and is just talking over you and speaking for you the entire time.

His friends aren’t much better. Any questions regarding you go straight to your boyfriend. “How’s the missus been feeling lately?” the Captain asked, never looking at you when he asked. Looking at Gaz while puffing a cigar.

You don’t listen to what your boyfriend says in response, knowing it was something about how nice stuff was with you two.

“Ah, finally got the lass ta quit yammering about separating, aye?” You catch the other Sergeant, Johnny if you remember, say with a laugh. Looking at him with anger and about to open your mouth before Gaz laughs over you. A hand placed on your head and ruffling your hair patronizingly as he gives a simple “thats right” in reply.

You nurse your drink, some fruity little thing that Gaz got for you because he was convinced its what a pretty thing like you would want to drink. Thankful for the only man there not actively involved in the conversation, skull balaclava on and a drink he hasn’t even sipped in his hand.

When the night is finally ending you feel like you’ve run laps, rather than sat and listened to them talk about anything and everything without including you. The only time you managed to get a sentence in resulted in Gaz chuckling at you, gripping you close to his side and otherwise leaving you unacknowledged. You didn’t think you could ever be more thankful for the bed you knew was waiting for you.

Listening with noncommittal hums as Gaz just yammers on and on to you while driving home. And without taking off any of your clothes, you find yourself collapsing into bed the moment you get home.

Huffing when Gaz starts helping you strip down, kissing at your body and grinning with all charisma as you wrap your arms around his neck. Making quick work of stretching you on his fingers. He was never one for patience, but that’s why you had fallen for him in the first place.

Even when he talked over you, and said entirely too much to his friends. You were the loud one out of the two of you in bed. Sharp moans and borderline screams leaving you when he thrusts so deep you claw into his back. And you can’t complain when he flips you over to fuck you in prone bone.

His thrusts are sharp, almost snapping his hips onto yours inhumanly. Like he wants to fuse with you. Until there’s just nothing left of you or him, and only both of you combined.

And then he’s sitting in another shitty pub next weekend, you glued to his side, as he talks over you and the rest of his team pretends you aren’t there.

—————

uuhhhhh got a little carried away with this one!! honestly its not beta read and its like literally just something random and insane ramblings so please dont judge too harsh on how inconsistent it is, i realized halfway through i had so many ideas for toxic! gaz!!!! the idea of him being codependent but in a way where he literally HAS to say and do everything for you because he needs you to need him??? ugh drooling pls let me know if u guys want more of this or have any ideas for toxic gaz :p

[rikkivoid]

winter kiss

[fumifooms]

I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

[pcktknife]

what do you think about the newest penacony story patch in hsr?

penacony numero uno. actually the best arc out of the 3 so far but sunday should kill himself*

[otrtbs]

okay hi!! hello!! deleted the post bc i have been made aware that the person not only took down the work, but their entire ao3 account and i just want to say thank you to everyone for being so kind and lovely and for having my back <33 mwah so much love to y'all <33

[jgracie]

me when you guys

[fisheito]

finally unlocked maid blade's intimacy rooms and i just. i gotta say. i am very pleased. SO VERY pleased. excellent, everywhere, all around, fantastic loved it start to finish (i got a little worried in the middle bc distressed blade gnaws at my sympathetic heart chamber) but now i am filled with new images and new appreciation for big floofy skirts and blade's adorable master-pleasing ways

[queerdiazs]

snippet sunday

hi friends, i'm gonna share something i've shared before because i LIKE it a lot + buck being a demanding bossy bottom is sooo good (but pls dw eddie gets his turn at being a sloppy silly bottom too and he's SO hot for it)

anyway this is nsfw

“Buck, baby. I want to ask you something.”  Buck nods wildly, knocking his nose against Eddie’s in his fervor. “Fuck and talk at the same time.” He reaches down and grabs hold of Eddie’s ass with both hands, squeezing and pinching as he lifts his hips up to fuck himself on Eddie’s cock. “C’mon, Eds. Be a—a good boy for me. Fuck me—fuck me please.”  Bubbles of static electricity swarm Eddie, springing from each point of contact between them and ricocheting to every untouched inch of his body. He drops down heavily, blanketing Buck’s body with his own, and fucks hard and sloppy and eager. Buck muffles a hiccuped moan against the scruff of Eddie’s cheek, breathy and pitched high. Eddie grins, mollified.   “Like that, baby?”  “Yeah,” Buck grunts, panting against Eddie’s cheek. He wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist, kicking him closer and deeper with his heels, and meets Eddie’s thrusts with little ones of his own. “Yeah, fuck, like that. Just like that.”  Eddie finds Buck’s lips, eating the mewls that fall from Buck’s mouth. It’s little sobs of too-good, too-sharp pleasure; a staccato of breaths that get stuck in his chest on each withdraw and shoved out on every thrust forward. Eddie’s so deep inside Buck—he can feel himself, right up in Buck’s guts, beneath the muscle and fat of Buck’s tummy where his prick’s at, twitching from friction and sensation.  “Buck,” he says, smearing Buck’s name all along Buck’s cheek and throat and chin. They’re so wet, so sweaty, that Buck can’t get a good grip on his back to scratch his nails in without slipping. “Buck, baby. Marry me. Please marry me.”  Beneath him, Buck’s body jolts. “Goddamn, Eddie,” Buck swears, but it kind of feels like a benediction, a prayer sweeter than any he’s every heard. Buck cradles his cheeks in both hands and sucks on his tongue, loud and free in his pleasure. He laughs like sunshine. “No.” 

i was tagged by @hippolotamus, @try-set-me-on-fire, @callaplums, @thewolvesof1998, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @exhuastedpigeon, @honestlydarkprincess, @jesuisici33, @wikiangela, and @daffi-990 mwaH MWAH

and i'm tagging @watchyourbuck, @eddiediaztho, @fortheloveofbuddie, @callmenewbie, and whoever else wants to share consider yourself tagged 🫶🏼

[fluxweeed]

hey. hope this message doesn't bother you. I love you. I love your work. you are one of my favorite fic authors, I am absolutely obsessed with everything you write. reread everything ten times over, drarry or not, fluffy or angsty - even when it absolutely shatters my heart (e.g. for lack of wanting, SUCH a great fic btw i'm so obsessed with it). the four doors? life changing. two to lie and one to listen? engraved into my brain for eternity. what's mine is yours? what a ride holy shit, im VERY normal about it. wrapped? my comfort read. and so it goes.

if I could aggressively smother you with kudos and love I WOULD!!!

awhile ago you said that there's no such thing as "big deals" in fandom and I 100% agree but at the same time you are a big deal TO ME!!! not in the sense of any kind of hierarchy but purely based on the fact that I think you are such a cool person and your writing is amazing and poignant and your presence in fandom makes it so much better. it's been a pleasure following you here on tumblr and just reading your tags and posts.

idk I just think you rule. that's it. thank you for hanging with us. MWAH 💛

ahhhh anon sorry for leaving this message sitting in my inbox for a couple of days but !! i have zero idea how to react to this!! you're so kind!! thank you!! please discard any and all inclinations u have that i am a cool person bc i can assure you i am NOT!!