#what if i get trust issues and assume every voice i hear from now on is him

[definitely-didnt]

more Cat!John to satisfy the voices in my head (harlan, it's all harlan)

[leighsartworks216]

In Your Silence (I Hear You)

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Requested by @ghulehh666:

"Just had this idea for so long in my head, basically astarion x tav(gn). Tav is really antisocial, never visits tavern or such, and prefers to stay somewhere quiet and alone or with Astarion. When they have to talk, their ability to speak sometimes randomly locks out and doesn’t know what to say."

I know you said antisocial but I kinda went further and made it more social anxiety or autism-coded

Also I still have not played the game or seen much gameplay so some things may be inaccurate and stuff

Warnings: going through a busy crowd, brief mention of nails digging into skin, some sensory issues (touch, sound)

Word Count: 1,287

Masterlist

AO3

You were holding on for dear life. Your arms curled tightly around Astarion’s, eyes scanning every which-a-way. Unfortunately, this was a rather common occurrence.

Before all this, you kept to yourself. Perhaps to an extreme. You avoided going outside, you didn’t speak to anyone for as long as you could help it, and you were quite happy like this. Dealing with other people was always a headache, and never near worth it, but staying alone? The only person you could be irritated with was yourself.

And then you got kidnapped. And somehow, somehow everyone chose you as the one to save the world. You couldn’t stay alone anymore. Too much was at stake. But sometimes it was all too much. Too loud, too demanding, too… everything.

Astarion didn’t know what to make of you upon first meeting. He’d assumed you were working with the damn Illithid, but when he insisted you just kept shaking your head. Truly, he’d have thought you were mute, if he’d not seen you talking with the damned creatures. Now that it’s been weeks, he knew you better than the rest. After all, it was his tent you ran to when you needed quiet, and, even more than that, it was him you trusted to find your voice when you couldn’t.

That’s how you ended up in this bustling market street, clinging to him as he smoothly guided you through swaths of people. He was used to navigating crowds. His eyes sought out slightly-more-open gaps and he’d be able to slip through with no issues. Alone, that is. With you, the strategy was a little different. Not only did he have to get himself through, but you as well. He could only imagine what the weaving pattern he took to find even-more-open gaps in the sea of people looked like from above.

The street never seemed to end. More and more people entered from either end. Stall owners barked out calls to potential customers. Everyone was shoving to get where they needed to go. Astarion was tired of it. The only reason you’d turned down here was to find one specific stall for some spices Gale wanted. He’d stopped looking for the stall long ago, leaving that task to you.

Toward the end of the street, though still quite far from any freedom, you squeezed his arm and planted your feet. He stopped immediately. Your eyes were set on one of the stalls - a table filled with handfuls of herbs, small bundles of them tied together with string. He sighed through his nose. Gale better damn well be happy for all the trouble this is.

Astarion placed a hand over yours on his arm, searching for any opening in the river of people going around you both. He could feel the anxiety radiating from you the longer it took. As soon as there was even a hint of a gap, he pulled you through.

Trying to walk through the hoard rather than with it was a nightmare. You were jostled and bumped into by everyone. Astarion wanted to switch you to his other side to act as a human shield, but doing so risked losing you to the flood. And when you finally got through, finally standing in front of the one stall you came here for, you felt it. Like a switch, your throat felt leaden. Your vocal chords were heavy. It seems preserving your voice for this moment did not help at all.

“Hi! Welcome, welcome! What can I get for you today?” the stall-keeper beckoned. Astarion had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling. All traders were always too cheery, overacting as they tried to play nice to convince you to buy more.

The vampire turned his focus to you. You still held onto his arm, but it was a little more relaxed. Your nails weren’t digging into his arm, at least. (You always apologized profusely when your voice came back, even when he brushed off your concerns of hurting him or, worse, being a nuisance.) You searched the table, eyes roaming stacks of small spices and bundles of large herbs. Astarion had no idea exactly what Gale’d asked for. He trusted you remembered.

A moment passed, and then you were pointing at a small cloth bag, round and full. The attendant lit up. “That’s our special blend! It contains all you need for any meal! Just one pinch and your mouth will thank you for it!” When they said the price, Astarion saw you retreating in on yourself. It was a lot to ask for one small sachet, though it looked like it would last several weeks if conserved properly.

Before you could even formulate an apology to Gale for his damn herbs and spices being too gods damned expensive, Astarion was pulling out his coin purse and counting out the gold. “We’ll take one.”

The attendant picked up the sachet by its drawstrings and plopped it into your hesitant hand. You squeezed his arm - you didn’t like that he was paying for it. He handed over the money, and pulled you back into the throng of people.

It wasn’t long before you were at the end of the street and being tugged along to a quiet side-road as there was no longer a need to slow down to glance at each stall. As soon as the people thinned out to a manageable level, you let go of his arm and reached for your own coin purse.

“Please, love, you don’t need to pay me back.” He covered your hand holding the purse, preventing you from opening it. “Besides, I will be more than happy to discuss repayment with the Wizard.”

You gave him a disapproving look. He just rolled his eyes.

“Was acting quickly to get you out of that mess as soon as possible not what you wanted?”

You glared harder. “Don’t twist it,” you muttered. The weight was still there, but being out of the crowd had helped enough. Though, it seemed heavier now that you have spoken… Damn.

He chuckled airily. “Hate to admit I was working outside of my own self-interests for once?” You raised a brow at him. “Well, aside from having Gale in my pocket, until he compensates me for the loss.”

You huffed and put your coin purse away, tucking the sachet away in the process. Your hand found his arm immediately after. He didn’t even react as you gripped onto the fabric of his sleeve. At first, he’d been a bit scandalized, complaining that you’d wrinkle it or pull at the embroidery. He almost… enjoyed it. The simple act of keeping each other close, relying on him to act as an anchor. It felt nice to be needed.

He noticed before you that your feet were beginning to drag. The sole of your boots scraped on the street every couple steps, not to mention how you slowed down ever so slightly. He smiled knowingly, resting his hand over yours on his arm once more. It was reminiscent of nobles strolling along, prim and proper.

“Come on, dear,” he encouraged smoothly. “Once we return I can read that mystery novel to you.”

You grabbed onto his arm with your other hand, pulling yourself closer to rest your head against him. You had a tired little smile on your face. How unfortunate such outings were so much on their leader. He’d probably get two lines in before you passed out in his mess of pillows.

“Though, it is rather obvious who the culprit is.”

You pinched his arm.

“No, my being a magistrate has nothing to do with it,” he chastised. “It’s hardly my fault I’m more observant than you, dear.”

[leaentries]

just stay | luke hughes

summary: troubled by luke’s continued absence, you just want him to stop. but he just wants you to stay.

warnings: angsty themes, mentions of abandonment, arguing, happy-ish ending (but also sad)

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this is my first angsty fic, so please bare with me! <3

You should have known better. You did know better.

Yet for some reason, you found yourself caught up in his chaos again. Luke was always a hard worker, this is something he prided himself on. The way he could completely immerse himself in his work and focus on nothing else. It was the only time his mind was quiet.

Sometimes it occurred to you that maybe his job was his only true love because, for the third time this week, Luke found himself walking through the front door at an ungodly hour. He assumed you’d be tucked away asleep, but was proven wrong when he saw your displeased features looming at him from the couch. 

He gently set his hockey bag down, clearly sensing the thick tension practically rolling off your body. Luke was scared to move or talk for that matter. Now of course, he knew why you were upset with him, as you had every right to be, but what you didn’t know was Luke would often find an escape on the ice, a way to heal scars he tried so hard to conceal. So it was easy for him to lose track of time, needing to expel all of his emotions. It was the only way he knew how to process. 

And with your ongoing relationship issues, Luke began to disappear. At least, that’s what it felt like to you. One of your biggest fears was Luke leaving you, so it truly felt like you were living in your worst nightmare when the distance between you grew. The feeling of abandonment engraved in your mind was impossible to get rid of.

Letting out a deep sigh, you couldn’t find the energy to scold him again. “Why, Luke?” 

The simple question hung in the air like a rope, tight and unwavering. Truth be told, Luke didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why all he wanted to do was bury his head in the sand until morning when he could get back to the rink. He didn’t know why he couldn’t convey his feelings properly. He didn’t know why he felt so scared to be vulnerable around you. 

Taking his silence as an answer, you rose from the couch. Not taking a second glance in Luke’s direction, you made your way to your shared bedroom. Luke immediately followed suit. He watched as you grabbed an overnight bag, half-hazardly throwing things in. He reached out to touch your arm.

“No!” You yanked your arm away looking up at his guilt-ridden eyes. “You don’t get to feel bad. I told you. I told you how you being distant all the time made me feel. But you clearly don’t care enough to change anything.”

Luke roughly ran a hand through his messy curls.

“Look y/n, you know I care about you. But-” You quickly cut him off.

“See? There shouldn’t even be a but. You simply just don’t care, Luke.” Tears began to fill your eyes at this point. “I’m at a loss. I told you I wanted to work on us and I thought you did too. But apparently I was wrong.” 

Luke shook his head in protest, “Of course I want to work on us! You haven’t given me a chance to try and explain!” He tried tirelessly to let you hear him out. Unfortunately, his attempts were in vain.

“I gave you plenty of chances to explain, Luke. It’s too late.” The next words that left your mouth cut through Luke’s heart like a dagger. “I-I think we should take a break.” 

Luke’s breath quickened as his heart rate began to rise. Tears immediately sprung in his eyes, “Don’t say that. You don’t mean that. Please, please say you don’t mean that” He begged.

You had never seen Luke break down like that. The pain in your chest was hard to ignore as you tried your best to control the sobs that now shook your body. You didn’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you grabbed your bag and attempted to go around Luke’s frame. He gripped onto your bag, causing your body to sharply turn back. 

“Y/n, don’t leave it like this,” He sobbed, “Don’t leave us like this!” You scoffed at his last remark.

“I’m the one leaving? Luke, you left this relationship a long time ago. It just sucks I didn’t notice it until now. I could have saved us both the time.” Your voice became dull. You had lost all motivation to fight for what you and Luke had lost. You were tired. 

“I-I don’t understand. You told me you wanted me to try and here I am, trying. This time you are the one walking away. Not me.” Luke’s voice began to become unsteady. Overwhelmed with the severity of the situation. He was flooded with anger, confusion, and most of all: sadness. He felt completely helpless. Two hours ago all he wanted was to stay on that ice until the world stopped, but now it felt as though the world did. Except now, all he wanted was you. 

“Just stop it, Luke. This is it. What’s done is done, and I need you to understand that.” The tone of absolute in your voice made his blood run cold.

“I don’t want to understand, I want you to stay.” Luke felt his ears start ringing. He was pierced by your neutral gaze. You didn’t continue towards the door, but you didn’t make a move for him either. Luke was in agony waiting for you to say something. He chose to take your silence as an opportunity. 

“Just let me say something. Please.” He pleaded with you. “I know, I messed up. I wasn’t there for you, or for us. But I can’t stand the thought of waking up every day without you. Not hearing you sing in the shower when I come home from practice. Not smelling your perfume on my hoodies, or watching the way your mouth twitches when you’re reading. But most of all, I can’t fathom the thought of not having you love me. Out of everything in this world, you have been the one constant thing I can depend on. So please, please, just stay. Stay for me.” Luke’s bloodshot eyes bore into yours as his tears violently spilled from his eyes. 

You felt your own drip down your face at his words, leaving hot wet trails in their wake. This is the first time Luke has ever been this vulnerable in front of you. You felt as if you were truly seeing him for the first time, the real Luke Hughes. 

“Okay,” You whispered, “I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you, in this relationship. But I can’t stay here right now.” With that, you managed your way out of the bedroom to the front door. Luke desperately followed your steps. 

“Baby, please. Wait.” He stopped in his place when you turned towards him. You walked up to him, cupping a gentle hand on his cheek. You placed a soft but promising kiss against his swollen lips. The love shared between you lingered as you pulled your lips from his. You stepped back, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. 

“I need some time to think. But I’ll be back. I promise.” And with that, you left. 

Luke knew better than to follow you. But here he stood, staring at the closed front door. Left with a reassuring promise, yet a shattered heart. 

[voidpetrova]

settle the score — rafe cameron x reader

☄. *. ⋆ content warning(s) & genre: swearing, miscommunication trope, slowburn, alcohol consumption, pining, playing hard-to-get, suggestive content, violence depicted — drama, slow romance

˚♡ ｡˚ synopsis: blood is thicker than water, but the heart wants what it wants. you're a routledge, he'a a cameron, but just because it made sense for your brother and sarah, doesn't mean it'll make sense for you and rafe.

✧.*

life in the outer banks was a delicate dance between the sun and the storms, where secrets washed ashore with the tide, and alliances shifted like the sand beneath your feet. in that coastal chaos, friendships were tested, love was found in unexpected places, and every wave brought a new twist to the story of your lives. paradise on earth, that's what it was.

“history test,” your voice clashed with the peaceful silence that had filled the chateau. you had already made your bed, hours ago. pulling your skirt and tucking it into your uniform, you made a final lap around your home, shaking your brother awake for school. “both of you need to get up, like, yesterday.”

a moan of defeat passed john b's lips as he tossed and turned, as if still drunk. jj, who had been asleep on the couch, was now stirring awake, eyes fluttering open. “good morning to you too, momma.” you rolled your eyes as you bent down, continuously shaking your blood and flesh awake. the previous night had come crashing down faster than any other night—more alcohol, more running, more throwing up. now, you were all running late despite nearing the end of your semester. “okay, shit, i hear you,” john b exclaimed, running a hand through his messy hair.

when you had woken up, the house was a total wreck. it was made a mess, and it was gonna be left a mess. you rolled your eyes as you shot jj a warning look, as if to say, “he's your problem now,” but he wasn't. no matter how protective john b was over you, you were always gonna be his older sister. you played your role all too well, especially once the child welfare agency had paid you a visit—two days after you turned eighteen, which was just a few weeks ago. the minute you could, you signed to be your brother's legal guardian. he could punch all the men in the world for so much as looking at you the wrong way, but you would always be the real protector.

in the twinkie, you spent a minute or so enjoying the silence the morning had to offer. you admired the way the sun's rays shined against the sea, the way the birds chirped in harmony. the silence was beautifully deafening, but terribly short-lived. “shotgun!” you winced at jj's yelling, wondering how he sustained so much energy so early in the morning. with no hesitation, he pulled the door open and tumbled into the seat next to you, offering a wink. “my sister's driving, that's so not fair,” john b huffed as he sat in the back defeatedly.

“can we not do this at seven in the morning?” you practically begged, feeling the headache closing in on you. “nah, gotta get in the mood for today,” jj retorted as he stretched, as if prepping to run a marathon. “i got kicking topper's ass on today's checklist.”

the growing, extensive tension between the two tribes had come to be an exhausting occurence. you didn't mind a lot of kooks, actually. kiara was a kook, but it didn't stop her from being your best friend. she was one of the most down-to-earth people on the island—you had assumed it was a façade before meeting her. sarah cameron wasn't all so terrible, either. you didn't like her the first time she came around, didn't trust her, but you've grown closer over time. you had no positive opinion regarding topper, knowing you and jj had convinced pope to sink his boat for a good reason, even taking a beating from his friends for your brother. he wasn't the worst of them all, though. your main issue was with sarah's older brother.

rafe cameron, who was just a year above you, was truly the cause of all your problems. you tried not to pay him any mind, not in school, not out of school. you so badly wanted to make it seem like he didn't exist, you couldn't resort to violence. you had a reputation to uphold and a brother to take care of, it wasn't worth the risk. he had something directly against you, you knew it. he spent most of his time taunting you, insulting you, cornering you. out of all pogues, it seemed that his issue was with you.

you tried not to pay any mind to it, especially not while you were driving. “no causing shit today, am i clear?” you shot jj a look, earning two hands, rising in defense. “no need to worry, ma, we'll be good.” you met your brother's eyes in the rearview mirror, the worry on your face evident. he tried to make it up to you with a comforting smile, but you weren't buying it.

union academy had a traditional coastal charm. it featured classic architecture with a touch of maritime influence, reflecting the coastal setting around it. the school grounds included a mix of green spaces and typical educational facilities, creating a backdrop that captured the essence of a so-called, safe environment. it would've been safer with a few electricity-prone gates separating the two tribes, but there was no going down that road. if you ignored the hell waiting to break loose, it was a beautiful school.

you stepped out of the twinkie, making sure to lock it once the two boys had stepped out. “hey,” you turned around as john b called out to you. “i promise we won't start any shit today. we'll walk away.” you nodded, despite the disbelief that swelled in your chest. “i trust you, jb. just be careful for me.” he didn't have to respond, pulling you in for a hug. you were all he had, and he was all you had. if it meant you'd be happy, he could resist his urges for a day or so.

once he had departed, you brushed your skirt down and adjusted your hair with a sigh. the school's field was huge, littered with kids who could only either look at you with disgust, or with lust. some of them, despite the disgust they felt, knew they'd do you sober. not even after a cheap beer, just stone cold sober. they also knew it'd be best to keep it to themselves, judging by the way your brother glared at them, almost as if he knew. you ignored it. you tried too, at least. despite all of it, you knew you had lucked out just before reaching the school's main doors.

“can't ignore us forever, princess,” every nerve in your body told you to turn the other cheek, to keep going and continue your streak. “very rude, very pogue-like.”

you didn't want to feed anybody's ego, but you couldn't stop yourself from turning around. to nobody's surprise, you ended up locking eyes with rafe, a smirk painted on his lips. topper stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact due to his past previous encounters with your brother. “ever get bored of it, rafe?” you snapped, a bored look playing on youe features as he towered over you. “put your money where your mouth is and get yourself a new plaything.”

so ready to end the conversation, you broke the eye contact, but rafe had other intentions. “heard you've screwed every kook in the area,” he practically snarled. “seems like you know a lot about money and mouths.” there was no way for you to exit now, and you had passed the point of being nice a while back.

“i must've been taking lessons from your sister,” now, you had the attention of both boys. “you know, the one who gets her back blown out by my brother every other night.”

rafe didn't care about his sister, he cared about his reputation, his status. that's why he was quicker to step into your face, before topper could get the chance to defend his ex-girlfriend. “i wonder what big daddy john would have to say about his daddy handing pussy out to everyone,” you weren't a slut by any means. shit, you've done it once, with someone whom you loved and trusted, and you were sure it wouldn't see the light of day. you were wrong, but didn't care much about it. no one really said anything about it, except rafe. every chance he got. “may as well let us take you for a spin, routledge.”

walk away, all you had to do was walk away. you needed to be the bigger person, you needed to set an example. you needed to think. shit, you've been doing it for as long as you could remember, why was now any different? the people that surrounded the three of you only added to the pressure you were under, but you knew you couldn't fight it. he had hit every spot there was to hit, and you knew he'd hang it over your head for the rest of the week.

your fist had collided with his face faster than you had anticipated. it had happened in a split second, and all you could see was red. you hadn't even noticed how you tucked your fingers in skillfully, let alone how hard the hit truly was. rafe's head fell back as he stumbled, practically falling onto the floor. he didn't have time to collect himself, not while your head had blocked out, not only the way the crowd screamed in approval, but your thoughts. you weren't thinking, not while you had dropped down, sinking onto his lower body, wrapping your hands around his throat. you applied pressure, more than enough to shut him up for good. his eyes widened as he wheezed, his hands tapping at your arms vigorously.

“let him go, holy shit,” topper tried to pull you off, only leading to further thrashing that pushed him back. you continued, your eyes boring into rafe's and, for a second only, you swore the darkness had disappeared. you had no time to read what he was feeling, not while another pair of arms met your waist, pulling you off. rafe gasped for air, fingertips tracing his throat as he coughed.

you thrashed aggressively, your vision blurry as you practically begged to be let go. none of the consequences mattered in that moment. once you had turned around, still thrashing, you were met with jj, who was doing his best to contain you. “sorry, cupcake. just doing what you're brother asked me to.” you yelped as he practically threw you over his shoulder. he turned around, and you had, once again, met rafe's refreshingly dark glare.

“yeah, get the slut out of here,” he practically spat, and it didn't take long for the trigger to click. “try not to fuck her again while you're at it.”

you turned against jj's shoulders, watching the way his breathing deepened. “don't do it, jayj. don't you do it.” there always came a point where you wondered why you even tried, and this was one of those times. you knew that once your body had fallen onto the floor with a thud, exhaling a sigh of defeat as you rolled your eyes.

the principal's office wasn't exactly a foreign place for you, but that didn't necessarily mean all of your experiences were negative. the same couldn't be said for your current one. you knew you had made a mistake the minute it was all over with. you were sat in between rafe and jj, directly across the principal's seat as you waited for his arrival.

you toyed with your fingers impatiently, practically in touch with the way rafe stared at you from the side. for a second, you met his eyes, regret clounding your vision because you knew what was waiting for you. “tell your boyfriend to get you a leash,” he hissed, but you didn't say anything. you didn't have to. “you better watch it, asshole,” jj finally snapped, standing on his feet once more. he was nothing of the sort to you, rafe knew it. everyone did.

“you best take your seat, mister maybank,” boomed the voice of your principal as he walked into the office. he shut the door behind him as he took his seat, along with jj. “you all really love making issues out of nothing, don't you?”

rafe scoffed, “i wouldn't really call assault nothing.” the side of his face you had struck was bruised, along with his throat. jj hadn't done much damage, due to the principal and secretary's appearances mid-situation. he shrugged, “what'd you do to provoke her, mister cameron?” rafe ignored the question, tongue wetting his lip as he laughed dryly.

finally, the principal re-directed his attention, eyes scanning the bruised littered across the knuckles on your right hand. “as for you, miss routledge—you've really done it this time,” once again, for what felt like the hundredth time, you could feel rafe's eyes on you. “school grounds, miss routledge. assault. you'll be faced with suspension. if mister cameron decides to press charges, expulsion. your brother, and i hate to bring this up, will be taken from your care, and best believe that child protective services will get him in no time.”

rafe's expression softened at the principal's words, something you had failed to notice as you stared at the principal in shock. “this ain't right, this isn't fucking fair—” jj was cut off almost immediately. “mister maybank, please,” you couldn't believe it. it was exactly what you had been warning john b and jj about. not to start any fights, not to cause any trouble. everything was at stake, your family was at stake. “it's a handful, isn't it, miss routledge? school, working a job, being a full-time guardian. unfortunately, this is out of my hands.” silence, it was all you could respond with.

rafe analyzed you with watchful eyes, too focused on you to take jj's glare into consideration. he felt for you, for your situation. he had no idea you had taken on such responsibilities. “i'm not gonna press charges,” he announced, finally. jj's glare had settled as the three of you looked at him in shock. “what? let the whole world know she beat my ass?” you remained quiet, while his eyes remained on you.

“very well, then,” the principal cleared his throat. “a three-day suspension seems adequate, no?”

it was just like rafe to watch out for nobody but himself, his status. his reputation. it was how he chose to be perceived. he wasn't gonna go around pressing charges, adding fuel to your already blazing fire. not anytime soon, anyway. just like how he wasn't gonna let anyone know that he was pulling away for your sake. you couldn't look him in the eye, even while leaving the office.

“are you really his guardian?” he leaned against the wall that surrounded the empry hallway. you hesitated with your answer, “of course i am, i'm all he has. he's all i have,” you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “thanks for not pressing charges, i'm sorry about everything.” he chuckled as you gestured toward the bruise on his jaw.

“it's not exactly like i didn't deserve it,” in that moment, he watched you openly. this time, you were aware of it. perhaps, in that very moment, he didn't see you as a pogue. he saw you as a girl. a very pretty one, at that. “some right hook you've got, take lessons?” it was the nicest thing he's said to you, really. you opened your mouth, ready to respond, and your smile didn't go unnoticed. unfortunately, you never got to finish.

“get the fuck away from her.” in a second, your brother was pulling you away from him, standing in your place, now face-to-face with him.

with a huff, you revived the distance between them as you stepped in front of rafe. “leave him be, jb. he's not pressing charges, it's my fault.” your brother's eyes finally locked onto yours, “after begging us not to start any shit, you go after rafe?” he had a point, you had done the complete opposite of what you'd begged them.

“i apologized, just listen to me,” you begged. “rafe was nice enough not to press charges, that's all there is to it.”

he nodded in agreement, “no pogue is worth my time,” the asshole you had grown used to had made another appearance, yet you couldn't help but wonder where the side you had just met had wandered off to. “especially her.” you held onto john b's wrist, squeezing as if begging him silently to stay quiet.

when he had dragged you away, he forgot to drag your backpack away with him. by the time rafe had realized you had left it behind, slouching on the floor next to his foot, you were long gone. he sighed, rolling his eyes as he tossed it over his shoulder, groaning at the unimaginable weight of it. “so that's how she does it, huh?” he couldn't help but smile at the thought. quickly, he made a mental note to stop by the chateau and drop your bag by the same night.

“i can't believe i forgot my shit,” back at the chateau, you were panicking. john b had gone out with the others, leaving you and jj back at the house. “he's gonna burn it, i just know it.” jj sat on the sofa as you paced around the room, offering you a freshly-cracked open beer. “you really need to calm down, he's not gonna do shit after that blow.”

you rolled your eyes at the remark, but finally stopped in your tracks as you stared out the window. the night was black, the only light illuminating the outside and inside world being the light coming from your living room light. “don't know why he hates me so much,” you let out a sigh as you stared into your own reflection in the window. as you did so, you watched jj walk up to you, his front pressing into your backside, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in.

“only 'cause you're everything he's not,” you sighed as your heartbeat finally began to settle, your body melting against jj's touch. “'cause you won't let him hit, that too.” everything you and jj had was purely physical, and you kept the pogue-on-pogue macking a secret. you had hooked up once, which was made known, and it didn't end well. it was the point where rafe had begun to openly hate you, and the point john b had to be held down by three of his companions from killing his best friend.

he pushed your hair to the side as you tilted your head, allowing him all the access he needed as his lips latched onto your neck. “jayj,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he placed sweet, feather-like kisses down your neck, going as far as the angle allowed him. “john b's gonna be here soon, anyone could see us.”

it was like talking to a wall. he hummed, uncaring, as he brought one of his hands up to your breasts, clothed by nothing but a sheer tank top. he gave one a gentle squeeze while he brought his other hand down to your short, pulling them down with ease. he turned you around to face him, towering over you as his hungry eyes bore holes into yours. “you really want me to stop?” he didn't even have to ask, he already knew the answer. you shook your head. “then, take that top off for me, cupcake.”

from the inside, there was no one that could see you, let alone stop you. from the outside, as the light illuminated your figure, anyone could, but not just anyone did. rafe had come by, as he had promised himself, with your backpack slung over his shoulder. only, he really wished he hadn't. he didn't know what to feel as he stood in front of the window of the chateau, the bright lights having caught his attention.

it felt wrong to watch, and he took no pleasure in it. he watched the way jj had you, the way your face scrunched with pleasure while he touched you. by the time it had grown to be too much to watch, he peeled his eyes off the sight, tossing your bag onto the ground as hard as he could. “motherfucker,” he practically shouted, kicking the bag onto the porch, heel digging into one of the pouches. it was the last thing he did before storming off.

the following day, you had woken up to the sound of explicit shouts. it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was still a cause for concern. thankfully, you had woken up in the comfort of your own bed, fully clothed, despite last night's lingering activities and upcoming headache. your eyes fluttered open as kiara and pope rushed into your room. “you really gotta see this,” kie's tone was filled with worry, a slight edge to it as you forced yourself to become conscious. your hair was a mess, top on backwards, but you still obliged.

john b and jj stood on the front porch of the chateau. at first, you couldn't see anything, hands aggressively rubbing your eyes as the sun kept your vision at a minimum. once you had a clearer view, you knew you were fully awake, eyes widening at the sight. “holy shit,” you gasped out, wanting to come closer, but jj stuck his arm out, preventing you from going any further.

the entire yard had been trashed. the hammock had been littered with scattered books and loose papers, alongside the boat, the driveway, the steps. all trashed and stained with school items. one of the window's covers had been torn off, along with the generator's latch next to the door. the bushes planted alongside the perimeter—all trashed, as if somebody had stomped on

“do we even have to ask who did this?” pope inquired, watching the way your hand came over your mouth. “of course not,” kiara responded, taking a few steps of her own. “but what's with all the books and shit?” you had come to a realization of your own as you pushed past jj's grip, walking towards what you believed was the source of your issues, laying flat on the ground.

you had recognized the backpack the minute you were called out to the porch. despite it being black and plain, with perhaps a few details of white stitching and patterns, the tag on the side gave it away. “P4L,” it almost made you smile, really, but it was no situation to smile about. you knew exactly who had done it, and you didn't plan on wasting any time.

the cries and shouts of your friends, begging for you to stick around and handle it with them, followed you as you ran. you couldn't have taken the twinkie; it, too, had been practically pissed all over by rafe cameron. so, you ran. you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, and you didn't stop. not even when their pleads began to falter.

the figure eight was the paradise's paradise. the part of the island rich folk loved to step over in order to piss all over the cut's population. while you worked two jobs, their people owned two houses. it was a way to reassure everybody that there would always be balance, whether you liked it or not. by the time you had gotten there, you could practically feel the shift in the atmosphere.

playing golf was one of rafe's favorite activities, alongside drinking, snorting lines, and apperantly, vandalizing. you were out of breath as you watched him from a safe distance, hybrid golf club in his grip as he swung it back carefully, his concentration glued to nothing but the miniature ball on the tee in the grass. if you had been in the right mind, you would've definitely had a more thought-out, synchronized plan, but you were running on a few hours of sleep, panting like a dog, watching rafe cameron's smug, smug smirk as his club hit the ball with a smack. there was nothing thought-out, nor synchronized, about what you were doing.

he hadn't heard any of it, nor had he seen it coming. you ran towards him as fast as you could, despite the lack of oxygen in your lungs. he hadn't noticed a thing until your bodies finally collided, as you tackler him onto the ground. his club was tossed to the side, the ball flying into the distance as you sat on him, a groan of pain passing his lips as his eyes opened, but he had no chance to react.

“vandalizing my fucking house? isn't that a bit too pogue for your taste?” you practically spat at him, knees pressed around his waist as you held his arms down. “what the fuck is your problem, cameron?” he struggled against your touch, a growing stern look in his eyes as he grunted, grabbing onto your wrists and pushing you onto the grass. despite the fight you put up, he was the one on top of you now.

“went to give your bag back,” he began explaining, grip tightening the more you struggled. “how do you thank me? by giving me a clear view of the klepto tearing you a new one? really?” you didn't know when you had stopped struggling. all you knew was that you had found yourself staring into the kook's eyes, heart softening as you caught your breath. you hadn't noticed how blue his eyes really were up until that point.

for a while, it was quiet. awkwardness filled the air as your position didn't change, but his grip loosened. “how much did you see?” you murmured softly. as his grip loosened, so did his anger. so did yours. he found himself peeling his body off yours, using a hand to pull you up and sit you next to him. “more than i wanted to, thanks.” his tone was colder than anticipated.

you couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that he was bugged—enough to turn your front yard into a crime scene. “what's it to you, rafe?” he didn't answer, it wasn't helping you get anywhere anytime soon. “it's just sex between you and maybank, isn't it?” hesitantly, you answered with a nod. you couldn't believe you were actually discussing your sex life with rafe cameron. “yeah, i figured. all the guys in the world that'd show you the world, and you go for the guy that can only show you his bedroom.”

a scoff passed your lips as you took definite offense, it was as if he was calling you out for decisions that had nothing to do with him. “go fuck yourself, cameron,” you began to stand up, brushing away the loose grass off yours knees, but rafe didn't budge. “you ever been to corolla?” you stopped on your tracks, looking back at rafe, who had his eyes glued to the field in front of him. “meet me back here at eight, tonight.”

the nerve he had was absolutely unbelievable. once again, you found yourself scoffing at the pogue. “and why the hell would i do that?” this time, he was the one turning around, peeling his eyes off the scenery before him. “because,” he smirked. “i dropped the charges, you owe me.”

relief was all you could feel once you had come back to an empty house. the mess was still more than present, but no one was there. a sigh of relief passed your lips as you pushed past the unlocked door, back sliding down the wall as you buried your face in your knees. all you could do was think.

why was rafe cameron so concerned about you and your love life? why was he so keen on meeting you tonight? why were you so comfortably going along with his bullshit? your head cocked to the side as your phone buzzed, a message reaching you from an unknown number.

NO CALLER ID: don't be late 2night

wear smthn nice

- rafe

you rolled your eyes at the unnecessary signature. “signing his own damn message,” you muttered under your breath in disbelief. it was such a rafe thing to do, you couldn't help but smile.

with the door locked, despite the ongoing presence of the mess made in your yard, you had the entire chateau to yourself. the time you had to yourself was usually spent on doing the dishes, cooking, cleaning the house, hanging the clothes out to dry, taking care of the others. rare occurences such as the one at hand were an easy way to fix up your mood.

rarely did you ever get to focus on yourself. grateful for the hot water in the boiler, you treated yourself to a hot shower. thanking god for electricity, you let an old fan try your hair instead of the usual sunray routine. with freshly painted nails and newly dried hair, you allowed yourself the freedom of a new makeup routine. you knew your brother would flip if he saw you, so you made sure to hurry. you couldn't deal being interrogated, especially if it meant having to lie to him and your friends.

so, you kept your cool. you admired yourself, for the first time in a long time, you looked like yourself. not a tired, over-worked pogue, but a diamond, one that had been hiding in the rust. your hair was clean, wavy, with no more traces of sea salt. your nails were clean, trimmed, freshly-painted with a new coat. your figure was wrapped by a yellow sundress, admiring every curve of your figure, the color embracing your tan lines. the makeup, though subtle at the first glance, was your finest work of all. you made sure the coast was clear before slipping into your heels and onto your bike, into the settling dusk.

the island seemed different once nighttime rolled around. it was as if the ongoing sequence of fights, tension and bloodshed finally came to a halt. it was a temporary halt, but a halt of some sort, nonetheless. as you passed by trees and markets that had been closed for the day, you found yourself once again wandering back to rafe cameron. the possibility of him being a decent human being, with a heart, always found its way back to you.

the tannyhill plantation was one of the island's most beautiful manors. the first thing you had noticed while hopping off your bike, was that all of the lights had been shut off. all of them, except for the one in rafe's room. you shot a puzzled look at your phone, seeing as you hadn't received a single new message from him. hesitant to approach the front door, afraid of any sort of backlash, you found yourself frozen in your place.

your eyes remained glued to the white fence surrounding the villa, along with the balcony that led to rafe's illuminated room. for a while, you found yourself in a trance, eyes stuck on the way the lights flickered. shit, they flickered for a long while, before going completely still. your heart softened once he came into your view, you could see him walking towards you, but never noticing you. he had his eyes on his tie, fingers fiddling with the fabric as he tightened it. at first glance, it seemed as if he was finishing up in order to reach a certain level of presentabilituly for you. his hair was neat, pulled back with loose strands garnishing his forehead. it you hadn't been harboring so much hatred the past few years, you'd be drooling by then.

you watched him with careful eyes, gaze locked on his figure and you prayed that he'd notice you soon enough. for a split second, he turned around, a smile forming on his face as he did so. you furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to follow his gaze, to see what had caught his attention all of a sudden. there was no need for that. you found yourself frozen in your tracks as the picture came into place for you, bike falling to your side as you stared in shock.

you couldn't make out the woman that came up from behind him, the one dressed in a pink robe with her wet, brown bangs plastered to her forehead. all you knew was that she was a half-naked female with a glass of wine in her hand, wrapping herself around rafe as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. you watched him smile as he pulled her in, but you didn't miss the way he looked back at you. he looked back, eyes locking with yours for only a split second, as if he was telling you, “tied, we're tied.”

the entire trip back was rushed. you had given up the minute you realized you had given in. speeding away on your bicycle, you cursed at yourself for trusting him the way you did, ignoring the way your phone buzzed in the pocket of your sundress. your vision was blurry as you sped past the same scenery you had passed an hour ago, vigorously rubbing the tears away, smearing the make-up you had spent hours perfecting.

“no no no, fuck,” you whispered under your breath as you stopped the bike, heels digging into the ground as you pulled up into the yard. the lights were on, door unlocked, much unlike how you had left the house. you gulped, throat thick with tears and worry as you tried to make your way up the stairs as quietly as possible. if anyone were to catch you, you knew you'd be hit with hell's worth of questions.

whether it was jj inside, your brother, anyone. the result would've been the same. you sniffled, as quiet as ever, pulling the doorknob open as you peeled your heels off, careful to avoid any clicking noises. the living room was empty, the only noise being your heart pounding in your chest. the coast was clear, from what it seemed like.

“where the hell've you been?” froze. you froze in your tracks, for what may as well have been the tenth time that day. heels in one hand, handbag in the other, you carefully turned to the source of the sound. as you did so, you found your brother leaning against the wooden walls, his face stern as he analyzed you. “out,” you tried to play it off as cool as possible, letting your shoes drop to the floor. he scoffed, “out? yet here you are, crying, your make-up melting,” you found yourself avoiding his gaze once again, flinching at your younger brother's harsh tone. “i'm not asking again, where were you? where'd you go, (y/n)?”

all he wanted was to know you were alright, that you were okay. it's what encouraged his episodes, where he found himself screaming at you one day, worried sick, and apologizing the morning after. “i've had a long night, john b,” you finally snapped, watching the way his expression faltered. “we can talk about it tomorrow.” as hot-headed as he was, he knew you were the more stubborn one. with a huff, he retreated, kicking his legs over the couch. you ditched your handbag and shoes as you stormed off, making sure you slammed your door shut as you did so.

NO CALLER ID: didn't feel good, did it?

you see what i was talking abt??

the least u could do is answer

i overdid it i'm sorry

routledge come on i didn't mean to go so far

please answer

pick up ur phone don't get me worried

you failed to notice the way your phone lit up with messages, the screen lighting up with a buzz each time you had received a new notification from rafe. mainly because you had ditched your phone a while ago, leaving it to buzz above and beyond on the surface of the living room table. what you had so desperately failed to consider was who had complete access to those messages, an entrance to your situation.

john b clutched your phone, allowing it to vibrate, allowing the messages to come in at a fixed pace. his eyes were blank as he read every single text you had received, listening to the muffled sobs from the other side of the door. you were completely unaware, having forgotten that having a little brother meant having a nosy companion, at best. his expression hadn't planned on faltering, not until the last few messages rolled in.

NO CALLER ID: please meet me tomorrow

by the docks

i have to tell u smthn in person

- rafe

unlike his previous fits of rage, john b felt as if it was different this time. instead of punching the walls around him, instead of calling up jj in order to break into the camerons' villa with extra protection, he turned the phone off. a sense of peace struck him from the inside, as if he had an epiphany right then and there. as the sound of stiffled crying filled his ears, he felt himself falling back onto the couch. he wasn't stressed, nor was he scared. he allowed a silent rage to consume him, this time. because, he had a plan, and as far as he was concerned, rafe didn't know that he knew. a smile graced his lips as his eyes fluttered shut, knowing that the upper hand would be his.

from the comfort of your own room, you found yourself staring back at your tear-stained pillow. the make-up you had carefully touched up was evident on nothing but your pillowcase. you sniffled, bringing a hand up to wipe away your excess tears as you allowed yourself a moment of peace. the moment of peace and quiet you had spent with your head tucked in your knees was short-lived, if anything.

the sound of a KTM supermoto being revved up had a very specific sound, and a very loud one, at that. you jolted in your spot on the bed as the sound of a running engine filled your ears, as if was right next to your head. with the overflowing curiosity in place, you pressed your ear to the thin wall behind your head, scared to make any sudden movements, in case of potential threats.

“(y/n), i know you're in there,” the all-too familiarity of the voice pounded in your ears as your heart skipped a beat. you gulped, a shiver trailing down your spine. “come out here, i wanna apologize.”

the first few minutes you had spent ignoring his pleas, you remained focused on the light in your room you had forgotten to turn off. it seemed like all the lights in the world were your greatest foes as you cursed yourself for forgetting. the entire house was pitch black, except for your room, and it was too late for you to go back. your focus shifted the minute you heard a harsh sound next to your head, as if rafe had started throwing rocks at your window. it was what pushed you past your breaking point, knowing john b could wake up at any second.

“what do you want, rafe?” you were breathless after pulling your window open, staring at the tall boy just feet away from your window. he frowned as he took a few steps forward, “wanna talk to you, please.” if you weren't in the biggest state of disbelief you'd ever been in, you would've assumed he was being genuine.

“post-nut must've hit hard if you wanna talk to me,” you spat, a humorless laugh following. he studied the way black, tear-slick streaks trailed down your cheeks, the way your dress looked as if a cow had chewed on it. even during your worst hour, you were a knockout. “we didn't fuck, dammit,” he snapped back, inhaling deeply as he tried to keep his cool. “sofia and i didn't fuck, i just needed you to feel how i felt that night.”

none of it made any sense to you, absolutely none of it. you scoffed, “i don't fucking get you, rafe.” you watched the way his eyes lightened as he sighed, taking the last few steps needed to look you in the eyes. he was inches away, still able to tower above you despite being outside. “i don't understand, either,” he admitted. “i don't understand why you make me feel the way i do, or why seeing you with him makes me angry. i wanna understand, but i don't.”

was it a confession? a semi-confession, maybe. you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. to close your window shut, drop the blinds, and hide under your bed. not specifically from rafe, but from the thoughts that consumed you. if you didn't relate to his words, why did you run? why did you cry all the way home? why did you feel as if someone had ripped your heart out of your chest? “i know you feel it, too, (y/n).” he didn't have to say anything, you knew he was right.

“you gotta be quiet, rafe,” your voice was barely above a whisper. his face was just inches away from yours, and you could feel the way your breathing elevates. now, you could really see how blue his eyes were. blue and bright. “john b's asleep. if he hears us, it's over.” you wondered if you had seen a more genuine smile on his face than in that moment. it wasn't a smug smirk, or a taunting laugh. just a smile.

“yeah, i can do that,” his voice matched your tone perfectly, “i can be quiet for you.”

you hadn't exactly been counting on it happening so fast, but you didn't budge when he closed the distance between your faces. inches away only minutes prior, he had finally pressed his lips to yours. you felt your breath hitch, eyes widening as you tensed up at the foreign sensation. it was supposed to feel wrong, it was supposed to make you scream, curse him out for coming near you, anything of the sort. the exact opposite had taken place. once you had relaxed, your eyes fluttered shut, lips moving to match his movement.

when he had pulled away, his face was flushed, “tell me this means you forgive me,” the plea had left his mouth before he could stop himself, alongside the nod you had been fighting back. you had just kissed rafe cameron. “meet me by the dock in the morning, around nine, is that okay?” you found yourself taking in every single word that he sounded out, agreeing with nothing but a simple nod. he smiled at how you went along, despite the evident shock on your face, before departing once more. not before placing a kiss onto your forehead.

you made sure to shut the window the second he had driven off again, determined to be as quiet as possible. once you had done so, you felt yourself falling onto your bed once more. it felt as if you had swallowed your heart, like it was thumping excessively in your stomach. you didn't know what you were feeling—relief, if anything. relief, knowing he truly didn't have it in him to touch another girl. at least, not in fronr of you. you couldn't help but wonder why you felt so relieved, next to millions of other things, why did the thought of him with her bug you so much?

the thought itself consumed you to the point of no return as your eyes fluttered, mind going hazy as you thought of his last words. by the dock, at nine o'clock in the morning. you were so focused on his words that you failed to recognize the breathing behind your door. the breathing of the same person who had been listening the entire time. perhaps, that would be tomorrow's problem.

tomorrow's problem came faster than anticipated. at precisely eight o'clock in the morning, john b woke up, and for the first time in a long time, he woke up without the usual dread he carried on his shoulders. no, this time, he woke up with a smile on his face. if anything, he was motivated.

he had pushed past your door, careful not to make any sudden sounds as he entered, a sigh of relief passing his lips once he saw that you were still asleep. for a while, he found himself staring at you. his big sister, you were all he had, and he couldn't stand the thought of losing you. especially not to someone like rafe. with one last look, he shut the door, promising himself that he wouldn't let it come to that.

by the time you had woken up, it was thirty minutes past eight o'clock, and your brother was long gone. your eyes fluttered open, heart fluttering as the realization dawned upon you. in thirty minutes, you would be face-to-face with rafe once again. your brother's disappearance didn't mean much to you—you figured he was out with the others, like he usually was. the eerily extended period of zen you were feeling all came crashing down once you stepped into the living room.

your eyes trailed toward your phone, placed face-down on the living room table. the edges glimmered with light, letting you know that your phone had not only been moved, but unlocked and accessed. your suspicions came to life as you turned it around, your breath hitching at the sight of rafe's messages on the screen, opened and read. it was no coincidence, you knew your brother too well for it to be one.

in due time, your suspicions would've proved right. rafe had been waiting by the dock, as he had promised you the previous night. he would never admit how nervous he was feeling, pulling his phone out and checking for your responses, only to be met with the fact that you had read and ignored them. he found himself biting him nails, pacing around the flooring out in the open as he searched for a sign that you'd come.

“expecting someone?” he didn't fear the familiar voice, but it was definitely unexpected. as he turned around, he pressed his eyes shut, a feeling of annoyance gnawing away at his patience. once he turned around, he was met with john b, an empty expression on his face. “not who you were expecting, i'm sure.”

rafe scoffed as he took a step forward, “where the hell is she, john b?” your brother took the following step, closing more than enough distance between them to earn a few stares. “you've got no business talking to my sister, that's all i'm gonna tell you,” he snarled. he had no idea, had no clue about anything regarding the situation. rafe didn't know what to say, he had nothing left to use against him.

“maybank's been screwing your sister,” the bomb that had dropped in that moment wasn't apart of rafe's plan. it was his back-up plan, fueled by pure jealousy and nothing more. “you're worried about the wrong guy, routledge.”

despite the closeness between the two men, john b felt his look soften at the newly-obtained information. for a second, a split second, he felt himself calm down, as if he had realized he was up the wrong guy's ass. then again, why wouldn't rafe lie to save himself? a cameron, a kook. it was in his nature to double-cross. when he had convinced himself that rafe was lying, what followed next was inevitable.

rafe allowed his head to fall back as he stumbled, the feeling of john b's fist colliding with the underside of his chin. as he fell back, he watched john b approach him with heavy steps, a crowd beginning to form around the two of them. “here's a message from my sister,” he crouched, meeting rafe at an eye-to-eye level. “whatever it is you're feeling, she wants nothing to do with it.”

despite the hit he had just endured, what he was listening to then and there seemed to have pained him more. for a second, he didn't consider it. he saw the look in your eyes the previous night, a look that matched what he felt perfectly. the consideration lasted a split second, before he remembered, you were a pogue. at the end of the day, you were a pogue.

by the time you were ready to leave your house, the sound of your door opening and closing rang in your ears. you had been taking your time, wanting to look approachable for the conversation you had been waiting for the entire night. for a second, you could breathe normally once more. if that was john b back so soon, it could only mean not much damage could've been done. you held onto the possibility as you left the bathroom, rushing to the hallway, where he stood silently.

the first thing you noticed was how his knuckles were littered with bruises, only a few, but it was enough to cause you to panic. “what the hell did you do?” he silenced the end of your question with the raise of his hand, and you knew it was serious. “just answer one thing,” he paused. “did you fuck jj?”

you didn't even have time to consider the fear coursing through yours veins. betrayed, you felt betrayed. rafe had gone and stabbed you in the back, using the secret you had trusted him with against you. not just with anybody, but with your younger brother. “that's nobody's business, jb.” his hand collided with the wall, causing you to jolt as you took a step back. “you can both go to hell,” he sneered, pushing past you as he entered the living room. you called out for him, wanting nothing more than to explain yourself, but it was no use. “give my condolences to rafe.”

it wasn't the need to explain yourself that led you to the camerons' villa, but rather the urge to rip his head off and finish the job—the lingering empty void that had formed after seeing the lack of messages from him. something was wrong, but you didn't know what it was. surely, he wasn't angry at you. not for something your brother had done entirely on his own.

from the inside of his dark room, rafe felt his blood boil. betrayal, he felt betrayed. he had truly believed you were different, seeing as you had awoken something in him. something that led him to levels of jealousy and hard work he didn't even know existed. he couldn't believe it, he saw the look in your eyes that night. there was no way anybody could feign it. the thoughts that engulfed him sent him down a spiral of insanity, a yell bouncing off the walls as he threw his phone onto the floor, letting the material crack beneath his feet.

you couldn't have been bothered to wait under his balcony again, instead running towards the main entrance. before you could knock, a familiar face popped out from the side, as if she had been counting on your arrival. “thank god you're here,” sarah exclaimed as she pulled you in for a hug. though puzzled, you hugged her back. “he's been acting like a dick all day, he won't talk to anyone.” you deemed it strange, how sarah knew that you were the person rafe needed to talk to.

“what makes you think i can do shit about it?” you questioned, but the input, as if silly, only earned you a giggle. “come on, you're not dense,” she continued to laugh as she unlocked the door, pushing it open. “you should hear how he talks about you when he isn't pretending ti hate you, it's priceless.” you were barely given a chance to react as sarah ushered you into the house, showing you exactly which way to go.

up the stairs you went, leaving her behind as you followed the light onto the second floor. sarah's room was open, a familiarity to it despite having only seen it twice in your life. wheezie's room was next to it, with rafe's room right across, on the other side of the hall. the only room with the door shut tight. as you approached it, you began to severely doubt yourself. sarah was supposed to know best, but she wasn't exactly close to her brother. despite how hesitant you were, you still found yourself knocking.

the sweet sound of silence followed shortly after, only encouraging you to knock again. this time, you allowed your voice to pierce the quiet. “rafe, please let me in,” silence. sweet silence. “it's (y/n), please open the door.” the silence that followed was abruptly cut by the presence on the other side, the door finally creaking open.

you stood there, frail in comparison, as rafe stood in front of you. his eyes, though dark at first, lightened at the sight of you. in comparison, you felt your eyes widen, hands involuntarily reaching out to inspect the harsh bruise on his chin. he flinched at your touch, but didn't protest. “john b,” you exhaled, regretting thinking your brother wasn't capable of much damage. “he did this, didn't he?” rafe didn't offer much of an answer, almost embarrassed as he opened the door, stepping aside to let you in.

you stepped into the room, eyes wandering as rafe closed the door. it was your first time seeing his room. much like the rest of the villa, it was gorgeous. spacious, modern. rafe sat on the bed, right across from the spot you stood on. “thanks for telling my brother all about my sexcapades,” was the first thing you couldn't stop from tumbling out of your mouth. “i trusted you, rafe. i trusted you, and you still went behind my back.”

once again, he found himself on his feet, “you wanna talk about trust, really?” he ignored the puzzled look on your face. “let's talk about how you sent your brother to cave my face in and tell me that you don't want shit to do with me. yet, here you are, for whatever fuckin' reason. what the hell do you want from me?”

his words flew past your head like daggers, each one finding a new and improved way to leave their mark on you. you couldn't express your confusion well enough, “sent my brother? rafe, you can't possibly be serious.” he was quick to cut you off, pacing around his room as he ran ha hand through his hair. “sent your fucking brother, just like he told me. said he was delivering a message from you.” your eyes dropped at the sight of his phone on the floor, shattered completely.

you didn't know what to say. you were aware of how protective your brother was, everybody knew it as much as you did, but there were lines that shouldn't have been crossed. you found yourself walking up to rafe as he circled his footsteps, grabbing a hold of his wrists in order to get his attention. “rafe, i swear to god,” you paused, locking eyes with him. “i didn't send john b after you, i didn't tell him anything. i told you to stay quiet last night because i didn't want him to hear, jesus.”

you weren't sure at first, but rafe had finally settled despite the disbelief still present, “you really expect me to believe he found everything out on his own?” with a huff, you let go of his wrists as you dropped to the floor, back sliding down the wall as you went through all of the possibilities.

“my phone was in the living room with him,” you admitted. “he was the one reading your messages, not me. that's how he got there before i could, and came back before i could leave. told me you told him jj and i had sex, and that's it.”

rafe had finally calmed down, more than he had expected. amidst the silence, he found himself dropping down across from you. his heart began to beat at a steady pace, the realization finally settling—you were telling the truth, the entire time. he felt awful for doubting you the way he did. “i'm sorry for telling him about you and maybank,” your head shot up at his words. getting an apology from him was the last thing on your bucket list. “i was jealous, shit. didn't think he'd blow up the way he did. he mad at you?”

you nodded almost immediately, unable to hold your laughter back as you recalled his short fuse. “yeah,” you looked back at rafe. “seems like you got the shorter end of the stick, though.”

his bruise had turned into a pale shade of purple, decorated with bits of red and blue. when you had touched him this time, he didn't flinch. his eyes fluttered shut as you caressed the bruise with your thumb, watching for any reactions to the pain. “i'll be okay,” he assured you, but it didn't stop you. “it'll go away in a few days.”

for a while, you sat in silence. it wasn't the awkward kind, but rather the pleasant kind. during the entire time, you found yourself melting more and more into his touch, allowing him to pull you into his embrace for the first time. the right way. your hand never left his bruise, gentle strokes gracing his chin. “where do we go from here?” it was your question that broke the silence, and rafe looked at you softly. he admired the way you fit in his arms perfectly, the way your chest moved up and down as you made yourself comfortable against his touch.

“i like you,” was all he could muster up in that moment. “can't stand the way maybank had you. he took what i've been praying for all these years.” the confession, though touching, couldn't help but make you smile. “must be why you've been such a dick all this time,” he nodded in agreement, and it really had you thinking.

the silence frightened him, making his heart skip a beat. perhaps you were looking for a way to let him down easy? perhaps you wanted to be with jj, and not him? countless thoughts passed his train of thought as he watched you stare at the walls, as if contemplating. “all my life, i've never felt what i've been feeling these past few days,” you had finally broken the silence. “thought you'd leave my mind after you chose not to press charges, but you never did.” once again, he could relax. “i like you, rafe. i really like you.”

god, if your brother could see you. if any of your friends could have seen the position you were in, if they could have heard the words leaving your mouth, they'd lose their shit. they'd go completely off the rails. however, in that moment specifically, none of them mattered. you turned to the side, facing rafe and his look of shock with a proud smile on your face. with no need for any more words, meaningful or not, you allowed yourself to close the distance as you pressed your lips to his. this time, you were the one taking action, a look in your eyes that told him, “tied, we're tied.”

[tereox]

Warmup #15

Rating: G

Summary: It's raining on Coruscant. The Coruscant Guard gets a visit from a Jedi youngling who is very enthusiastic about the change in weather.

Notes: You'd think there's only so many things I can write that have the Corries and rain in them. Well, apparently I haven't run out of ideas yet.

~~~

Fox heaved a sigh as the knocking on his door did not cease. He'd already told them to come in, did he have to open the door for them? Really?

He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of rest, then pushed himself up and walked to the door panel, pressing the button in a way that would have him writing a requisitioning request for a new one in no time.

A child was standing in the door. They beamed up at him. "Oh good. I don't know your door code."

Which was exactly how Fox liked it. "What are you doing here, Ciph?" He knelt down in front of the small Rodian jetii cadet.

"Thorn asked me to come get you." Their voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's raining outside."

Well, that would explain why the Corrie base was deserted. "Alright, I'll just finish-"

Ciph grabbed his arm and tugged on it. "The rain won't be there forever, the datawork can wait. That's what the Force is telling me and you can trust the Force." They nodded very seriously.

Fox rolled his eyes. "Of course. I am very glad the Force could make time to check over my datawork deadlines for me."

Ciph beamed. "Great, come on!"

Seeing as there was no getting out of Ciph's grip when they were this sure of themselves, Fox pressed the door panel to close his office and reluctantly trudged after them. He did like rain, most of the vode did. They'd grown up with it and it just settled something in them to hear it or to have the rain drum onto their armour while they patrolled.

They could move through the rain without any issue. It was a good ally of theirs while the natborns had to slide around and felt generally miserable because of it.

Well, except Ciph, apparently.

"Is your armour waterproof?" Ciph asked curiously as they made their way to one of the side entrances.

Fox hummed. "Occasionally."

Ciph peered up at him suspiciously. "That's not a proper answer."

Fox allowed a grin to spread over his face. "Are your clothes waterproof?"

"Yes." Ciph pointed at their jacket proudly. "I asked the quartermaster for one and they still had raincoats! And rain boots! Have you ever jumped into puddles?"

Fox had. "I think you'll have to show me that."

Ciph gasped. "I will."

~~~

"Thorn." Fox sighed.

Thorn beamed at him, entirely dressed in civvies with a bright red raincoat draped over him. "Fox! I managed to get some for you as well, you have to try this, it's comfortable and it holds off all the rain!"

Apparently it had, and now Thorn's coat was dripping it everywhere.

"Put up a wet floor sign."

Thorn looked down at the puddle. "Ah."

"He's right though!" Ciph jumped in while Thorn made his way to a storage closet. "The coat is warm too!"

"And it's needed for jumping into puddles, I'd assume?"

Ciph beamed. "Absolutely."

Fox was aware that if he'd put up more of a fight, they would have happily let him keep his armour on. The fact was though, that most of Coruscant went into hiding when it started raining properly. They had no idea what to do with the torrents of water when the weather machine failed.

Fox and his vode though, they were experts.

~~~

"You look awesome!" Ciph cheered.

Fox had to admit that the coat really was warm. And it was the same colour as Thorn's, quite close to the Corrie red they wore every day. It was a nice bonus.

"Alright!" Thorn beamed. "We're ready for anything!"

It had been.. a while since Fox had seen Thorn so excited. He just nodded along and followed them outside. It would be good to catch a break.

~~~

Mando'a vod - sibling (plural: vode)

[school-of-roses]

Tips and Tricks for Vetting

Tricks for not being tricked. One of the things we get asked a lot is how to avoid a lot of the misinformation that floats around the larger magical community. Here is compiled a few tricks and different ways to think about things that can make it easier to spot the problems. Hope some of these help!

Assume and Work Backwards Taking a baseline that it's probably fake, let the work convince you otherwise.  Take things with a grain of salt moving forward as most magic things that aren’t based in historical or traditional practice are ultimately someone’s opinion and what ended up working for them.  Something might check every red flag and still be honest, but these are things to watch out for.

Occam's Razor The simplest explanation is probably the right one.  This is where we see the concept of “mundane over magic”.  If something can be explained in a reasonable manner that is probably a much safer bet.  If someone is trying to convince you that something with an easy explanation is actually magic, it might be best to avoid that all together.

Sourcing This is going to be one of the easiest tells that something isn’t completely out in left field.  Well known or published sources tend to be fairly reliable (or at least their flaws tend to be well documented).  If you can source a document to someone who has been fairly well reputed, your job is usually done from here.  If it’s well received by the community at large, this is probably in good faith.

Charletons I contradict myself here because while sometimes things are well documented, there will always be people trying to make a grab for your money.  Often you will hear a mix of people lauding their work in proportion to people calling them hacks.  It can be hard to tell who is publishing in good faith and who is just trying to get your money or attention.  One of the easiest ways to tell is that, well, you’re being asked to pay for their materials.  Now people put time and effort into their practice and still deserve to be compensated, but if someone wants you to pay for easy answers to all your questions that’s probably not gonna be it.  These things tend to seem too good to be true, and often they are.  Make sure to find this out before you hand over your wallet.  There is often a person claiming to be a superior authority on the issue.  The figurehead might not even be a real person, though this is, admittedly less common.

Self-Awareness If the person is not self aware of how wild the shit they say sounds if you don’t have first hand experience and blame you for not understanding instead of recognizing that there might be a better way to explain it, this is a suspect source.  The person might even legitimately believe what they are saying, but having the mentality that only you can be right is a dangerous one to keep, and you’re going to see it more in people trying to take advantage of you than people trying to help you.

Wordiness This can go either way.  It can be a sign you’re dealing with someone who just likes the sound of their own voice, but it could also be an older book or document.  I’ve found that there are different styles of writing depending on the era they come from.  Early ceremonial magicians tend to be very dense and wordy, but if you pick one of those up you tend to know what you’re getting yourself into.  If someone is writing to try and imitate this style, in my mind, it’s a red flag.

Is it on Social Media? I only ever hear horrible things about witchtok, but let this be a lesson about double checking and cross referencing sources.  Sometimes misinformation gets repeated, but so does good information get shared. If you can find more reputable sources that’s always a good idea, but otherwise keep your wits about you.

Trust your Instincts If something seems wrong, it probably is.  This will get easier as you become more experienced, but if you find something that looks very sketchy, take a second look, try and find the author and where the information came from.  If all else fails, find a second source, ask yourself “What does the person who wrote this want?”, and know that even if the source is credible, what works for one person might not work for you.

[dumbestthingiveeverheard]

Dumbest Thing I've Ever Heard: 8/3/2023

Fifth place: Twitter user @eyeskewer

This is a little older than the stuff I normally cover on this blog, but I feel like this is worth highlighting as it perfectly shows my issue when many who make conspiratorial claims about transgender medical care:

my "informed consent" was my doctor I had just met handing me papers telling me my voice would drop soon, I could freeze my eggs, I might get acne, and whatever else. I probably didn't even hear everything she said, I just told her I wanted the shot. so I got it. I just turned 18

So you were told you wanted something medical done to you, were told about the risks and consequences, and then got it. I really don't see what the big deal is here.

Fourth Place: Marco Rubio

Elon Musk's time as CEO of Twitter has been far from perfect, but easily the best addition he has made is the community notes feature. For just one example, here is a Tweet from Marco Rubio:

Also, those claims about the 2016 Presidential Election were never proven to be fake--just wanted to add that real quick.

Third Place: Scott Lively

The deranged homophobe who wrote an entire book blaming the Nazis on homosexuality wrote a column a couple of days back with the headline "Leftist lawfare and the abuse of power." A decent chunk of it is spent defending Russian President Vladimir Putin, but here are some highlights:

In all my years of watching corporate U.S. news about Russia and Putin, I have never seen a single counter-argument ever being offered in defense of President Putin (coverage of him is even worse than that of Trump). It's been more than a decade since Obama restarted the Cold War to punish the Russians for banning "gay" propaganda to children, when every story began to paint him as a "brutal monster" – to the point that even many conservatives (who have zero reason to trust that same media on anything) seem to agree.

The hatred of Putin on an international scale has nothing to do with the anti-homosexuality laws he has put in place while President of Russia--although, don't get me wrong, that didn't help matters, but several countries with anti-homosexuality laws are still seen in a positive light by the international community (wrongfully so, in my opinion). It was more his imperial ambitions--starting with his invasion of Georgia in 2008--that caused the international community to move away from him.

Second Place: Abby Johnson

I've mostly been ignoring the story about a handful of far-right Christians refusing to support the fringe Presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy because of his Hinduism, however given Abby Johnson was sold to us a few years back as a a reasonable anti-abortion activist--an oxymoron if I've ever heard one. And she has decided to take a stance against a Hindu President, saying:

Do not be a victim of Satan’s confusion right now. This is an important time for us to have clarity of mind as we are going into an election cycle. So please discern. Please use discernment right now because God hates those who are willing to put up idols over him, and he will not be mocked.

All I wish to say is that if you really want a President that's a dedicated Christian--can I recommend you a guy named Joe Biden? Oh who am I kidding, if Ramaswamy does get the nomination it's going to be just like when Billy Graham took Mormonism off his list of cults so he and his followers could vote for Mitt Romney in 2012.

Winner: Ben Shapiro

This man, considered by many to be serious political commentator, does not know the difference between eating and drinking:

[Trump] would face a whopping 641 years in prison. Which I assume means he would not survive prison. Although he is 70% preservatives at this point because he eats so much McDonalds and Diet Coke.

He eats Diet Coke? Ben, do you know how Diet Coke works?

Ben Shapiro you've said the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

[vexahlla]

hehe ✨️ 🎁 💛

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

someone bookmarked one of my fics with "anything you write is my favorite" which im unable to ever be normal about. i also really like all the comments on royal red & ocean blue chapter 5 bc it's such a fun chapter, someone thanked the inventors of snow, kendo, and thermal underwear, another person quoted 'you should be addicted to shutting the fuck up' which made me feel like i nailed the dynamic. and ofc the dream syncing comment section is full of gems and thank YOU specifically for calling it sexy i didn't know how it would land lol

i savor every comment. genuinely

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

uhhh so listen... idk about rymin but you can have some zukka. this is from the incomplete and very long rrob ch10 "the king of karaoke" a very (purposefully) awkward coming out scene:

Zuko scans the room and quirks a brow. "So this is your Ba Sing Se crowd?" There's a waver in his voice that belies his casual tone. Sokka follows his eye line to see what has him thrown off balance.

Zuko's looking at two girls making out at the foot of the stage, but drops his gaze when he realizes Sokka's followed in his direction.

Sokka's body stills, but he points a sharp glare at Zuko. "Yes," he says, voice dripping with challenge. "Is that an issue, your highness?" He doesn't care that it's factually inaccurate, he just wants Zuko to hear how much of an ass he's being.

Zuko blinks at him, then stumbles through a fervent, tipsy head shake. "No," he says as his cheeks color from more than just the alcohol. "I thought it might be for you, for some reason." He spins his pointer finger as if trying to rewinding time. "I don't know why, though. In retrospect," he adds with a nervous chuckle as he looks anywhere but at Sokka. He had been looking at Sokka the entire night, like he'd been Zuko's refuge in all this chaos, and the absence of his gaze is jarring. "Anyway..."

Zuko is interesting to be around. He's easy to read, most of the time, but where the emotions stem from is still a complicated puzzle Sokka has yet to piece together. He's got a competitive streak, at least where Sokka is concerned, as evidenced by them always trying to one-up each  other at banter or dumb games. And there's this feeling Sokka gets around him that he can’t place, electric yet gentle. It draws him in; it’s something to solve.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes he's just confusing.

"What?" Sokka asks. He wonders if they can ever have a clear conversation when liquor is involved.

“Sokka,” Zuko starts. Stops. He ruffles his hair, hides his head in his arms folded on the table, emerges again. He doesn’t quite meet Sokka’s eye. “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Sokka says. His too-loud heartbeat is drowning out any coherent thoughts.

Zuko still isn’t looking at him.

“That’s awesome,” Sokka says. “I mean, that’s cool.” He wants to dunk his burning face in cold water. “Good for you.”

As he says it, Zuko is stumbling over his own words. “So I wasn’t, you know — I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I get that now,” Sokka says. He recovers from his shock and remembers himself. “Thanks for telling me. I mean, for trusting me enough to tell me that. Yeah.” Okay, so not completely recovered, but still.

Zuko releases a long-held breath. When at last he returns Sokka’s gaze, the harsh red laser lights of the club are filtered to a soft pink in his amber irises. There’s a moment of acknowledgment before he blinks back down to where his fingers are tearing apart a napkin and he’s guarded again.

“I almost told you before,” he says. “At the festival.”

Sokka thinks back to that moment. He winces, remembering how much he had assumed — not only about Zuko, but about Mai, too. Sure, he’s accepting in theory. But in practice? Maybe he has a lot more to work out than he thinks.

“Shit,” Sokka says. “I’m so dumb.” This time he’s the one avoiding eye contact. “You were trying to tell me and I didn’t get it—”

“I backed out.”

“And I was just going on about girls. Not even thinking—”

“I thought you would hate me again.”

Sokka’s mouth and heart sputter to a stop.

“Not that I had any reason to think you’d have a problem with it,” Zuko says, waving it off and fumbling through his words before Sokka can respond. “Obviously you wouldn’t.” It doesn’t sound as confident as Zuko likely thinks he does. “It’s just… We had finally started talking. I thought it might be different enough to throw things off balance again.”

Zuko’s attention is devoted entirely to the bits of napkin in his grip. 

Sokka pushes past the dull pulse in his ears. “Hey. Zuko.”

Zuko glances back up.

Sokka’s reach is slow as he gauges Zuko’s reaction. With no sign of resistance, he places his hands on Zuko’s shoulders. Zuko relaxes at the touch, so Sokka treads further and pulls him into an uncertain hug. Almost immediately, nervousness shifts into warmth, until he's more comfortable in Zuko's arms than he'd been outside them. Sokka isn’t sure how long it lasts. He isn’t sure he cares.

“I like learning more about you,” he says as they draw apart.

Zuko’s light smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

i used to treat writing so preciously and i was pretentious about it, if i wasn't shakespeare then what was the point. i still have perfectionism issues, but at least i get stuck on WIPs i have actual words down on instead of consuming every writing tip video on youtube and fantasizing. i used to not write fanfic bc i wanted the first thing i ever wrote to be "the novel of my heart" or whatever the fuck. and if i DID write a fic i wanted it to be a big multichap cornerstone of the fandom, which is the mindset i started rrob in LMAO. i would wonder why i was so much better at drawing than writing when writing was what i really CARED about. im not afraid to doodle only for myself, im not afraid to abandon drawings, im not afraid to put pencil on paper and START. every time i apply that lesson to writing it helps, but it's still hard for me to keep in practice.

Fanfic Writer Ask Game

[the-great-lightwood-bane]

villains or heroes (or something in-between)

Malec | Rated general | tw canon-typical violence, body manipulation of antagonists 

Day 13: “Are you here to break me out?”

Summary: Magnus Bane, also known as Warlock, son of the world’s most infamous supervillain, found Archer on a rooftop.

Or, another superhero AU, this time featuring Magnus' self-worth issues.

A/N: apparently this is the month of superhero AUs. hope you like this.

EDIT: Now with an amazing moodboard (above) by Hika!

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

Magnus Bane, also known as Warlock, son of the world’s most infamous supervillain, found Archer on a rooftop. 

He’d been spying on the vigilante for a while, of course, trying to figure out how to approach him. He hadn’t managed to figure out where Archer lived, but he’d seen him sitting on this rooftop every day for a week, so it was there that he slipped out of the shadows and greeted him. “Hello, Archer.”

Archer spun, his surprise not preventing him from pointing an arrow at Magnus’ throat in less than a second. Super-speed, Magnus supposed; Archer’s powers appeared to be improved strength, speed, and accuracy. 

Magnus didn’t want to get an arrow through his throat, so he raised his hands above his head in the universal gesture of surrender. “I just want to talk.”

“Warlock,” Archer growled through the voice distorter in his plain black mask. “Give me one good reason not to kill you right now.”

“I can help you take down both Edom Inc. and Circle Corp.,” Magnus replied. “Kill me, you loose my information.”

“And why would you betray your father?” Magnus could practically hear Archer’s raised eyebrow. 

Magnus took a deep breath. It’d only been a few weeks since he’d learned that Edom Inc. was not opposing Circle Corp., as he’d supposed, but helping them; the realisation had been the final straw to make him leave his father’s enterprise. “Because he’s complicit in torturing people to give them powers.”

Archer huffed. “You’re his son. That’s not exactly a surprise.”

“Believe me,” Magnus said, letting a hint of his fury and betrayal leak into his voice, “it was a surprise to me.”

“I don’t believe you, actually,” Archer told him. “You’ll just lead me into a trap.” 

“If I wanted to get rid of you, I’d kill you where you stand,” Magnus returned. “You know what I can do.”

Judging by Archer’s silence, he knew it well. Everyone did; Asmodeus had spent the last twenty years bragging about his son’s prowess. Magnus hadn’t known until recently that it’d been his father who’d given him the power he’d always half-hated, half-loved. 

“Why are you here, then?” Archer asked at last, though he still sounded sceptical. 

“I need your help to take him down,” Magnus said, truthfully. “I can’t do it on my own — I’ve tried.” And barely escaped with his life. Magnus’ power relied on emotion; as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t want to kill his father enough to go through with it. He needed Alec to kill Asmodeus for him, while he distracted Circle Corp.

Archer tilted his head to the side. “Why approach me? Why not Viper or Seraph? Their powers are a good deal more impressive than mine.” 

“I wouldn’t underestimate yourself,” Magnus replied. “Your powers come in handy. And your siblings are too impulsive. They wouldn’t trust me, knowing who I am.” 

“I don’t trust you either,” Archer pointed out. 

Magnus acknowledged that with a nod. “Fair. I suppose what I meant to say is that they wouldn’t agree to work with me.”

There was a faint amusement in Archer’s tone. “You assume I’ll agree to work with you.”

“Why would you still be talking to me if you weren’t planning to?” Magnus returned. 

Archer sighed and lowered his bow. “Alright. What’s the plan?”

~

Six days later, the newspapers printed the biggest news of the decade: well-known companies Edom Inc. and Circle Corp. were working together to create new ‘superpowered individuals’ through traumatic treatments that left their victims scarred. The vigilante called Archer, famed for working outside of the law to stop crime, was responsible for their downfall. While Valentine Morgenstern had been killed in the battle, Asmodeus Bane had escaped and was on the run; his son, the vigilante known only as Warlock, had been killed, which was certainly a relief to the city’s law-abiding citizens. 

Magnus set down the newspaper with a sigh, careful not to overextend the burned skin that covered half his body — a last souvenir of Valentine’s pyrokinesis. In some sense, it was true that Warlock had died in that fight; Magnus didn’t want to be known as Asmodeus Bane’s supervillain son any longer. He’d stripped off Warlock’s mask and cape and stuck them in the back of a closet, never again to see the light of day. 

As Warlock, he’d spent years working under his father’s control, believing he was doing good when really, he’d only been helping on Asmodeus’ nefarious plans. He clearly wasn’t fit for this vigilante business. Why should having superpowers mean he had to be a vigilante? Magnus could set aside all that Warlock was and work on figuring out who he was, instead. 

He could have a normal life. The idea seemed vague, almost impossible, but why shouldn’t he reach for that? What was left to stop him?

Magnus smiled, and started searching through the newspaper for job adverts. 

~

He met Alec Lightwood a few weeks later, when he bumped into him and spilled coffee down his shirt — and it was clichéed, but Magnus had gathered his courage and asked him out on a date. 

It’d originally been a first attempt at that normal life, an experiment and nothing more, but weeks rolled into months and one day Magnus woke up in Alec’s bed and realised that he’d fallen in love. 

He had a minor crisis over it, of course — there were still demons in his past that haunted him, and he’d done so many bad things. He didn’t deserve to be with somebody like Alec, somebody good and kind and sweet, somebody who could strike Magnus speechless with the simplest things. 

But, for some unaccountable reason, Alec wanted him, and far be it from Magnus to deny Alec anything he wanted. 

So, when Alec woke up, blinking open those gorgeous eyes to look up at him with a smile, Magnus didn’t hold back the “I love you” that rose to his lips. 

Alec returned it, and all — for a time — was right with the world. 

~

“There’s something you should know,” Alec said, hesitantly, a few weeks later. “I — you know how I told you that I’ve got a crazy schedule because of my job?”

Magnus nodded. Alec had explained as much, with apologies, the first time he’d missed a date; the unpredictability of his schedule was now no longer a surprise, only an occasional inconvenience. It’d been easier since Magnus had moved into Alec’s apartment. 

“I don’t actually have a job with crazy hours,” Alec started, looking down at his hands. “I mean, I kinda do, but I’m not really getting paid for it, so I don’t know if it really counts—”

“Slow down,” Magnus said gently, holding up a hand to break through Alec’s rambling. “What’s your sorta-job with crazy hours?”

“I’m a vigilante,” Alec confessed in a low voice. “I work at the law firm part-time and track down criminals the rest. I — you probably know me as Archer.”

Magnus froze, jaw dropping in shock. “You’re Archer,” he said, more of a statement than a question, thoughts whirling. 

Alec’s constant drive to do good. The few times he’d accidentally snuck up on Magnus and startled him. The ease with which he’d catch something Magnus dropped, moving faster than should be possible. The insanely unusual hours for a law firm. It all made sense.  

“Yeah,” Alec said, his breath too even to be anything but controlled. “I know — well, you definitely didn’t sign up for this, I’d — I’d understand if you didn’t want to… date me, anymore—”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Magnus said unthinkingly, because if there was one thing he knew, it was that having Alec in his life was something he wasn’t willing to give up. 

Alec let out a breath, shoulders slumping, and Magnus kissed him. 

~

Alexander Gideon Lightwood was Archer, and lying awake in bed that night, Magnus tried to think. 

He wasn’t going to break up with Alec for this — that much he knew. But he’d tried so hard to make himself a normal life; could dating Alec pull him back into the world he’d tried so hard to leave behind?

Perhaps. He’d met Alec as Archer, after all, though they’d only known each other for six days; it was a connection he couldn’t shake. But Alec had no idea of Magnus’ past; he couldn’t drag Magnus back into it. Loving Alec was well worth losing a bit of his normality. 

Anyway — he’d figured out already that being normal was a bit boring. It was much more fun to stand out, in bright colours and makeup; none of that made him any more like the person he’d once been, and dating Alec wouldn’t either. If anything, it made him better: Alec could see so clearly, wanted to do good so much, that Magnus felt like a better person with him — felt less like Asmodeus’ son and more like Magnus Bane. 

But something was still nagging at him, and he eventually realised it was guilt: Alec had given him his secret, but Magnus wasn’t returning the favour. 

~

“I’ve done… bad things,” Magnus said, likely completely out of the blue from Alec’s perspective, although Magnus had been thinking about this moment for days. “In the past. Things I don’t care to remember.”

“You know I’ll always support you, love,” Alec told him immediately. “I don’t care what you’ve done. I love you as you are.”

“I love you too,” Magnus replied, reflexively, then frowned. “I don’t — I can’t—”

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” Alec said, leaning forward. “Magnus, I trust you. Don’t tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Magnus felt tears rise, inexplicably, and swallowed back a sob. “I love you. I don’t deserve—”

“You deserve the world,” Alec replied with an unwavering faith that Magnus couldn’t bear to destroy, so he let Alec gather him in his arms and hold him close. 

~

Magnus didn’t tell Alec that he’d once been Warlock, but the guilt abated a little at Alec’s assurances that he didn’t need to tell him anything. Alec didn’t even seem hurt; he clearly understood that this wasn’t about Magnus not trusting Alec, but something deeper, and he didn’t pry. 

So Magnus let the secret remain a secret. It was in the past, after all; it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though he’d ever put on that mask and cape again. 

~

Or so he’d thought. 

Only three weeks later, the shadows of his past rose up again to torment him — and, more pertinently, Alec. 

Asmodeus Bane was back in the city, and he’d kidnapped Alec as revenge for destroying Edom Inc — Alec, along with Izzy and Jace, known to most as Viper and Seraph. 

Magnus had gotten to know them, first as Alec’s siblings, then in their superhero identities after Alec had revealed his own secret. They were impulsive and reckless, but they were also surprisingly fun, and he didn’t want to know what Asmodeus would do to them to hurt Alec. 

He couldn’t allow himself to think about what Asmodeus would do to Alec.  

The destruction he’d wreak upon his relationship with Alec was secondary. The only thing Magnus could do was save him. 

The mask was dusty, but he blew off the worst of it before slipping it over his face, where it fit like a second skin. The feel of it was both foreign and familiar, worn every day for years and then taken off for what should’ve been the last time. He shook out the cape, too, still a bit burned from Valentine’s attack all that time ago, but perfectly serviceable. 

Magnus left the apartment without looking in the mirror. 

~

He strode up to the gates of Asmodeus’ hideout, not bothering to stay in the shadows as he’d learnt to do under his father’s tutelage. There was no need for that here; he was the most dangerous person in the building. 

Magnus’ power was fuelled by emotion, and now he had rage enough to level the city. 

Two guards were standing at the doorway. Magnus twitched his fingers, and one dropped like a stone while the other opened the door, then dropped beside his fellow. 

He’d forgotten the thrill that using his power gave him, the sheer strength that poured through him as he took control of their bodies like a puppeteer. Magnus had spent a long time fearing his power, fearing that he’d kill somebody else the way he’d killed his stepfather; he’d spent even longer hating it. But there was no denying that it was familiar, and that it was his. 

There was a reason the city had breathed a sigh of relief when Warlock “died”. Magnus’ power had no equal when he was enraged, and now, fury raced through his veins more than blood. 

A hallway. He dropped the guards with a flick of his fingers. Finding Asmodeus’ hideout hadn’t been hard, thanks to his knowledge of his father’s habits; it was equally clear that Asmodeus would set up camp in the centre of the building he’d chosen. Magnus moved without hesitation, with nothing but a clear-headed certainty. 

He came out into Asmodeus’ main room, where about fifty guards awaited him. Magnus had never controlled more than five people at a time; now, he made half of them turn on the other half, and let them kill each other without remorse or struggle. 

There were four other people in the room, and Magnus’ eyes went to Alec first. He was in his Archer getup, but with his mask ripped away; there were bruises on his face and he was chained to the floor, but nothing worse had been done to him — yet. Izzy and Jace, also unmasked, were chained in front of him, and both bore bruises as well. 

Asmodeus stood in the centre of the triangle they made, pausing in mid-punch when Magnus came in. “The prodigal son. I’d thought you’d died.”

“Unfortunately not,” Magnus said cooly. “Free them.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Asmodeus replied. “You know you can’t muster the anger to control me.” 

“Can’t I?” Magnus smiled beneath his mask, and he knew the amusement bled into his voice. He waved out a hand and the hearts of the twenty or so remaining guards stopped in their chests. Then he raised a hand and forced his father’s bones to obey his will. 

Looking somewhere between shocked and terrified, Asmodeus reached down and unlocked Alec’s chains, fingers clumsy but efficient enough to do the job. Magnus moved him on to Jace and Izzy, next; their chains clinked free after a moment of fumbling. 

“You won’t kill me,” Asmodeus ground out, struggling to move his jaw against Magnus’ hold. “I’m your father.”  

In answer, Magnus clenched his fist, and Asmodeus Bane never took breath again. 

“You’re alive,” Alec said, climbing to his feet. Magnus realised that he didn’t recognise him; as far as Alec knew, Magnus was no more than the supervillain’s son who’d switched sides. Still, Alec was smiling at him — not the smile he reserved for Magnus alone, but a happy smile all the same. “I thought I’d killed you, Warlock.” 

A surprising jolt of guilt shot through Magnus. He hadn’t realised that Alec had cared enough about Warlock to feel guilty for his “death”. 

He couldn’t let Alec go on smiling at him like that, though, not when he was lying to Alec with every breath he took. This would stop short any love Alec held for Magnus, and likely any liking for Warlock, but it was all worth it to save Alec. 

There were police sirens outside, and Magnus knew he’d be taken into custody once they found him here. Perhaps that was for the best; he wouldn’t have to see Alec again, wouldn’t have to bear that particular heartbreak. He’d face punishment for his crimes. 

Magnus reached up and pulled off his mask, meeting Alec’s eyes for what was perhaps the last time. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and turned away before Alec’s shock could morph into anger. 

~

Magnus’ cell was cold and quiet. 

The police officers had been terrified of him the entire time, which was a reaction he hadn’t encountered in a while. He’d cooperated, to their surprise; now, he was wearing ability-restricting handcuffs and chained to the wall, and they’d calmed down slightly. 

Magnus was being charged on several counts, most of them racked up under Asmodeus’ tutelage but several more from the last twenty-four hours. He’d killed well over fifty people; the fact that they’d been either Asmodeus or Asmodeus’ hired guards didn’t really play into it. A vigilante like Alec, with a reputation for doing good, might’ve been able to make a case, but not a villain like Magnus. 

And on top of it all, Warlock’s powers were beyond frightening; there was no way the legal system would let him free. 

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted it to, because if he were set free, he’d have to face Alec again — have to face the world again. He’d tried so hard to build a normal life; he should’ve known that wasn’t in the cards for somebody like him. 

With a sigh, Magnus let his head fall down between his knees. He had no regrets since meeting Alec. This was nothing but the reasonable consequences of his own actions. 

~

When footsteps sounded in the hallway outside Magnus’ door, he at first assumed somebody had come to bring him to court. But there was no light shining through the grate on his window; why would they want him in the middle of the night?

Keys clicked against each other as the door was unlocked. The hall was dark, but Magnus’ eyes had adjusted to the night, and there was no mistaking the figure in the doorway. “Alec?”  

A nod, scarcely visible against the dark. Why was Alec here? Did he dislike Magnus/Warlock so much that he wanted to take revenge himself? Did he have last words to say? 

Alec came into the cell and took another key, bending down in front of Magnus. “Here. I’ll unlock your cuffs.”

Magnus felt himself freeze. “Are you here to… break me out?”

“Why else would I come?” Alec asked with a huff. “Now, let me unlock your hands.”

Obediently, still stunned, Magnus held out his wrists, and the cuffs fell away with a clink. Alec moved on to the chains stretching from his feet to the wall; those came free as well, and then Alec stood and held out a hand. 

Magnus took it, and Alec led the way out of the police station and into the night. 

~

They didn’t talk until they reached Alec’s favourite rooftop — the place they’d first met, though they’d both been masked then and had gone by different names. Magnus followed Alec’s lead in silence; Alec didn’t start a conversation. 

Seated side by side on the roof of the building, however, Alec spoke. “You didn’t think I’d come.”

“Why would you?” Magnus asked. He still couldn’t understand what had driven Alec to break him out of prison, to take him here, to talk to him like this. 

Alec turned to meet his eyes, face bare without his mask. “Because I love you.” 

Magnus felt his heart skip a beat, treacherous hope igniting in him. But whatever Alec said, he couldn’t possibly love Magnus still — not knowing all he’d done, all he’d killed, all his power. 

“I love you,” Alec repeated, still softly. “I love Magnus Bane as he is, regardless of what he’s done. I’d already forgiven Warlock for following the man who raised him. I’ve heard all the stories of what Warlock has done, I’ve seen you kill in front of my eyes, but none of that is going to stop me from loving you. Magnus Bane or Warlock, you are the man I fell in love with months ago and have loved more deeply every day since, and I’m not going to leave you because of your past. I love you — I love all of you.” 

“I love you too,” Magnus said, helpless to say anything else, a sob rising in his throat at the sheer devotion on Alec’s face — devotion which Magnus was unquestionably unworthy was, but devotion that he had all the same, and he would hold Alec’s love to his chest with all he had. 

Alec wrapped his arms around Magnus, holding him close as Magnus cried into his shoulder, all the pain of the last few days crashing down amidst a rising tide of relief and love. “I love you,” Alec said, again and again and again, every repetition patching over a bit more of Magnus’ heart. 

~

They went back to Alec’s apartment, the apartment Magnus had never expected to see again, and Alec kissed away his insecurities even before they rose to the surface. Alec loved him, and that was everything — that was enough. 

~

It was two days later when, just as they were preparing to go out for dinner, Alec got an alert for a bank robbery downtown. 

That kind of alert wasn’t uncommon, and Magnus resigned himself to an Alec-less evening while his boyfriend (his boyfriend, Magnus could still scarcely believe he could have this) went out to fight crime. 

Until Alec turned to him and held out a hand. “You wanna come?”

Magnus blinked at him. “You… want me to come? Warlock?” 

Alec nodded, hand still held out between them. 

“The police are still after me,” Magnus pointed out. 

“They’re after all the vigilantes,” Alec replied, hand unwavering. 

“You’ve got a much better reputation than most vigilantes,” Magnus returned. “If you’re seen with me, people will—”

“I don’t particularly care what ‘people’ do, or think, or say.” Alec smiled at him, a small, private upturn of the lips that was solely Magnus’, as confident and certain as the hand still held between them. “I want you to come. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d like to have you there — to share this part of my life with you, too.” 

To share this part of my life with you, too. The words seemed to ring in Magnus’ head, shining like a bubble that might pop if he reached for it, but Alec had shown time and time again that his feelings were not so fragile. 

He’d strived to forget Warlock, to have a normal life — but Magnus had never been normal, and he realised now that he didn’t want to be. Warlock was a part of him, just as his powers were; his relationship with that was complex, but he couldn’t be himself without being all of himself, and Warlock was part of that. 

I love all of you, Alec had told him, and Magnus wanted to learn to love all of himself as well. He wanted to use his power for good, to associate it with something new, to save lives rather than taking them. 

Magnus smiled, and took Alec’s hand.

[vendettaparker]

Peanut Butter and Extra Jelly [T.H]

Summary: Tom’s long time crush on you becomes painful when you and Harrison are cast as love interests in a movie. 

Paring: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: Suggestive themes, fake smut (very light), jealousy, probably some typos, swearing 

a/n: i have no idea how filming a movie, or auditioning for one actually goes so don’t crucify me for this. i’m pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering that this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. also, Burt Kreisher is one of my fav comedians in real life, he has 3 shows on neflix and a mini series.  

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     Tom was not a jealous person. At least, that's what he always told himself. He prided himself in thinking he was a very level headed individual who didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. That worked best for his job anyways; always being able to control his emotions and not get in his own head. That simple, pacifistic mindset seemed to change when it came to you. 

      You were one of the many actors Tom got the pleasure to help hone their technique and work closely with. You were new to the lifestyle of Hollywood and the only roles you had before were in small indie films that never garnered too much attention. The first major role that you landed, which also happened to help kickstart your career, was in the MCU. You played the secondary villain in the third Spider-man movie. 

     Meeting the cast was a dream come true; they were all extremely helpful and they provided tons of tips and tricks in navigating the hectic schedule required for such a huge production. By the time filming wrapped up, you were considered part of their little Spider-man family. 

     Tom was easily the most helpful. Whenever he saw you struggling with anything, he offered to help. You two spent hours upon hours together in his trailer, ordering take out and practicing lines. Some nights you two planned to work through your script, but inevitably ended up falling asleep binge watching The Office, and laughing about crazy shit that happened on set that day. 

     When the movie wrapped up and you went home for a month before the press tour, you were completely unsure and nervous about what direction your career was going in. You auditioned for a few new movies, but had yet to hear from any of the directors about casting decisions. You kept in touch Tom during the month you were apart and expressed your concerns. 

     “I don’t know, Tom. I’m just so sick of waiting around and hoping that some director out there throws me a bone, ya know’?” You said on facetime, while making cookies. 

     “Yeah, I totally understand that, (Y/N/N). I had that issue a couple years ago before the Marvel movies. Trust me, you did outstanding in that role and once it gets noticed I’m positive you’ll have directors calling you, begging for you to audition.” Tom smiled warmly into the camera as he walked around his apartment in London. 

      “Yeah, easy for you to say, movie-star.” You giggled, turning your face away from the camera in hopes that Tom wouldn’t notice the blush his compliments painted onto your cheeks 

     “I’m serious! You were outstanding! Like in that one scene where you—” 

      “Tom! Tessa chewed a hole in my trousers again!” A voice came from outside of the frame, “Mate, you gotta get her to stop doing that somehow.” 

     Tom sighed, and waved his hand dismissively at the figure, “Okay, sure. I’m busy right now.” Tom looked back to the camera, “anyways, as I was saying, don’t stress about not having a new project yet, (Y/N)—” 

     “(Y/N)?” The other voice whisper-yelled. “Let me say hi!”, suddenly the phone was yanked out of Tom's hands and the video shook around a bit as Tom wrestled to get it back. Finally, the camera stilled and Harrison was on the other end smiling. “Hi, (Y/N)!” 

     “Oh, hi Harrison!” You smiled back, laughing. You'd met Harrison a few times when he visited Tom on set. “How are you?” 

     The camera started moving around more as the background behind Harrsion whizzed past. You assumed Tom must’ve been chasing him to get the phone back. 

     “I’m good! I just auditioned for a new movie. You should audition too! The main female lead’s description looks just like you.” He exclaimed, running past the kitchen to his room. 

     “Oi! Give me my phone back you div!” You heard Tom yelling in the background, no doubt in hot pursuit of Harrison. 

     “I don’t know, I'm not sure I’m prepared for a lead role.” You sighed, “What’s the movie called? I’ll look into it.” 

     “It’s called ‘Collateral Damage’, it’s a spy movie.” Harrison said, shutting the door to his room, while Tom pounded on it from the other side. “Yeah, it’d be really fun working with you. Tom constantly talks about how much fun you are on set.” Harrison wheezed out, trying to catch his breath. 

      “Aw, that’s sweet of him.” You laughed. “Well I’ve got to go. Just tell Tom he can call me tomorrow or something.” You waved at the camera. “Bye!”

     “Yup, bye.” Harrison said right before the video cut out. 

      Harrison finally opened the door to a seething Tom. Tom grabbed the phone back from Harrison and noticed that the call had ended. 

     “Dude! Why would you do that?” Tom whined. 

     Harrison just patted Tom’s back, “Sorry, mate. She said she had to go, though. I was about to give the phone back.” 

     Tom huffed and sulked for a moment. “Whatever, I’ll just call her later, I guess.” 

     Harrison nodded and smirked at how whipped Tom was. “You should just ask her out if you’re so desperate for her attention.” Harrison teased. 

     “Shut up. I’m not desperate for her attention, I just like her voice and her personality, and the way she talks, and her funny sayings, and how her hair looks when she just woke up.” 

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     It was only a few days later when you received an email from the director of the movie Harrison told you about, asking for you to audition. You were ecstatic, Harrison must’ve already sent in some things about you since the director seemed adamant that you were of high interest for the role. 

     You called Tom immediately to share the good news. 

     He picked up after the third ring, “Hello, darling! How are you?” he beamed when he answered your call. He usually was the one to call you so he felt a sense of pride knowing that you were calling him for once. 

     “Tom! The director of the movie Harrison auditioned for just emailed me asking for me to audition!” You squealed excitedly. 

     “Really? That’s wonderful, love! Harrison just got the part of the lead too, so you’d be filming with him if you got it.” 

     “That’s so exciting, I’m flying to London for the audition in two days. Are you still there?” You pulled the phone away from your ear and switched it to speaker. “I’m booking the flight right now.” 

     “Yeah, I’ll be in London for another week and a half. Then we have the press tour starting in Japan.” Tom said, also switching to speaker phone to look at his calendar. “You can stay with Harrison and I while you’re here. Since we have to go to Japan together anyways.” Tom offered nervously. He really wanted you to stay in his flat with him. It’d be all cute and domestic, and maybe, just maybe, he’d spend enough time with you to not feel nervous about asking you on a date. If he was lucky, that is, but awaiting your reply he was a jittery ball of nerves. 

     “Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I won't be intruding though, right?” You said, smiling from ear to ear. Thank god you weren’t on facetime and Tom couldn’t see the stupid smile adoring your features. 

     “No, of course not. Harry will be so excited to see you. And Tessa too, she really misses you.” Tom shuffled around with his phone, shooting a quick text to Harrison letting him know you were coming to stay for a week. 

     “Ok, thanks so much, this is really thoughtful of you. I absolutely can’t wait to see you!” You gushed, finalizing your purchase of a one-way ticket to London. “K, the flight is at 2:30 pm here, it’s about 9 and a half hours, but you’re also ahead of me, so I’ll be in around..5?”

     “Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll come pick you up. I’ll wear my incognito disguise.” 

     “If you mean that stupid t-shirt you got that says ‘I’M NOT A CELEBRITY’, then maybe I’ll ask Harrison to come pick me up…”

     “That’s cold (Y/L/N).” 

     You giggled softly, “I’m sorry, Tommy. If it makes you feel better, that shirt isn’t as bad as that stupid blue beanie that you never wear correctly.”

     “How the fuck would that make me feel better? You’re killing me, (Y/N/N).” 

     You laughed at his over dramatic reaction, “Sorry that you’re a sensitive babe. I gotta go now, see you soon!” You hung up before Tom could respond with a sassy quip. Then immediately after you received a text:

Tommy: The second you get here I’m bout to 👊 

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     Tom called Harrison up after you got off the phone, he needed to make sure his best friend wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass him in front of you. 

     “Tom, don’t you think this is a bit obsessive? I mean, she’s only staying with us for a week and you already know her so well from spending all that time filming with her.” Harrison sighed, sick of listening to Tom ramble about every possible embarrassing situation he could be put in, in the coming week. 

     “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It's no big deal. But don’t mention that time I accidentally shit my pants at the club, or that time I got hit in the head with a golf ball ‘cus I got distracted by a flock of geese, or that time a got chased by a flock of geese, or—”

     “Geez, mate. At this point we might as well not even talk to her.” Harrison chuckled, thinking of all the stories he could bring up about Tom around the dinner table with you. Tom really was just a walking ball of embarrassing moments. 

     “Stoppp ittt,” Tom whined, “when we were on set it was usually just the cast and Harry around, but you? You could do some real fucking damage to my love life, Haz.” 

     “What love life?” Harrison barked out, laughing. 

     Tom then hung up and began praying to whatever god was out there that this week could go by without a hitch, and then you and him would be on your way, together, to Japan. 

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     The whole week spent in London actually went really well, especially the audition. Tom and Harrison both accompanied you for moral support, well Harrison actually had to be there to be your scene partner, but it was still nice knowing he supported you. 

     The director shook your hand and you went through the normal formalities before beginning your scene with Harrison. It was a quick scene with a monologue in it. The main premise of the movie was all about choosing love over work, especially in dangerous, life-threatening scenarios. The scene you used to audition with Harrison was the scene where the main character, Lincoln, and his lover interest, Mallory, were arguing, trying to push each other away to keep each other safe. The scene had a lot of raw emotion that you were able to tap into, and the directors gave your performance a standing ovation once the scene concluded. 

     They said that they’d get back to you within the next few days, but they also mentioned how the chemistry between you and Harrison was off the charts, leaving you hopeful. Tom and Harrison both gave you hugs and pats on the back. Tom had watched the whole scene unfold and he was in complete and utter awe of your talent. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t audition for the movie and a chance as your love interest. But Harrison deserved this big break and so did you, so he was hopeful of the outcome being something that benefitted both of his best friends. 

    After the audition the rest of the week went by nearly perfectly. The real kicker was when Tom’s family invited you and Harrison to join them for dinner. Tom had not anticipated his mom asking you to come to family dinner, so he wasn’t able to stop the embarrassing anecdotes his mom told on his behalf. 

     “Tom had the cutest little tush,” Nikki exclaimed, placing the old homemade scrapbook in your lap and flipping through a couple of pages. “See look,” she happily pointed to a picture of Tom as a toddler in a bath, surrounded by bubbles, his little bum poking through them. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably on the sofa next to you, cringing at the now 21 year old photo of him. He expected you to also cringe along, or worse case scenario, get up and make a flimsy excuse to leave his crazy family, but you just chuckled along with Nikki and continued making your way through the scrapbook, making little comments here and there. 

     “Oh, and this one,” Nikki said, pointing to a photo of Tom crying and Sam holding up a superhero action figure triumphantly, “that was Tom’s favorite toy, but when Sam saw how much Tom liked it, he made an effort to always be playing with it when Tom came into the room and he wouldn’t share.”

     You giggled at the little whiny face Tom made in the picture, and turned to him, replicating it on your face, making fun of him. Tom laughed along and playfully shoved you. He adored how well you seemed to fit in with his family and his feelings for you only multiplied. 

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     The week in London was one of the best in your life. You didn’t realize how much you missed Tom until you got to the airport and he was there waiting for you, unfortunately in his stupid blue beanie, and no, it wasn’t on right, his big ears poked out of it horrendously. 

     The last day you had in London before you and Tom went to Japan, you finally received a call about the audition. The director called you to congratulate you on getting the part, and he sent you numerous emails about scheduling, where to be, and when. Harrison was elated to have a familiar face playing his love interest on screen, and Tom was over the moon excited for you, this on top of the Spider-man movie coming out, you were certainly becoming a force to be reckoned with. 

     You spent the night celebrating at a club, Harry and Sam also showed up to party with you. The night was still young and the club was already packed and in full swing. Tom ordered two shots for each of you to start off the night before he was whisked away by a few fans to sign autographs. When he didn’t return you took it upon yourself to have his shots, giving you an extra edge to help spice up your night. 

     Harrison found Tom in the corner of the club talking to some fans. But throughout his whole time taking pictures with them, he couldn’t help but glance at you every once and a while. You looked so carefree and beautiful, dancing around in your shiny silver top and leather leggings. 

      “Tom.” Harrison interrupted Tom’s gawking and directed his attention to the small group of fans Tom was with. 

     Tom nodded and finished up his pictures and autographs before wishing them all a good and safe night. Once he reached you, you engulfed him in a bone crushing hug. 

     “Thank you for such a great time in London, Tommy.” you slurred, already feeling the impact of the four shots you took. “I had the best time of my whole life.” You pecked his cheek and pulled him close to dance with you. 

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     The following month or so on the press tour was a once in a lifetime experience. You travelled to more cities than you even knew the name of and you had all of your friends by your side. More so, you had motivation to remain approachable and well liked by fans considering that you were moving up in the industry. Some interviews were mostly for Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. Your role in the movie was big enough for you to be needed for some interviews, and most people were genuinely interested in getting to know you, but there were also a handful of press activities that you weren’t included in, which you didn’t mind. 

     When you didn’t have anything to do for an hour or so, you would text Harrison and send him funny memes. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends; you had already created a surplus of inside jokes with him just over the phone. 

     Tom noticed how you were always laughing at your phone or rapid fire texting. Even when you were being interviewed, Tom could faintly hear the buzz of your text message notifications going off. 

     “Tom,” you snapped in front of his eyes, “did you need something?” 

     “Huh?” Tom blinked a few times, “Uh—no, sorry.” Tom’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed for having been caught staring at you. He couldn’t help it though, you were dressed so pretty that day. You had your hair done up in two bubble braids and you wore his pink sweatshirt over your yellow sundress. 

     “Okay then.” You smiled at him. You went back to your phone, reading what Harrison had just texted you. “What was the name of that comedian we watched the other night?” 

     “The one on Netflix?” 

     You hummed out a yes, tapping away at your phone. 

     “Burt Kreisher, why?” Tom asked, leaning over to your chair to try and catch a glimpse of who you were texting. When he saw the contact name “Hazzy”, he couldn't stop the little angry pit of jealousy that started in his stomach. Sure, you were here with him now, not with Harrison, but when you two were apart you also texted him nonstop, and the texts seemed to all be inside jokes, which was something you also shared with him that he held near and dear.

     “I made a joke referencing him to Harrison and he didn’t get it. Fucking nerd.” You chuckled, texting Harrison a link to the skit you were referring to. 

     Tom chuckled along, but he couldn’t help but frown slightly at how bright your smile was when Harrison replied. 

                       ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     The press tour and premiere of the movie seemed to go by lighting fast. You’d never been to a premiere for a production this big, and your nerves for the red carpet were starting to get to you. 

     You and Zendaya were stuffed into a hotel room with both of your respective teams, both trying to rapidly get both of you ready for the event. 

     “So when do you start filming for your next project?” Zendaya asked, she sat in front of a broadway-equse mirror, bright bulbs of light giving a luminescent glow to her already near flawless complexion. She hadn’t even finished her makeup yet and she was so pretty.  

     “In a month, I have to go back to London next week.” You said, sifting through the opinions you brought for dresses. You brought three options, just in case you changed your mind after seeing yourself in the dress. “Harrison and I are going to go over the scripts together and we were also told to go out in public a few times; for press and whatnot.” 

      “That’s exciting!” Zendaya mused, she glanced at the clock and gave her hairdresser some instructions about how much time she had to do hair. “It’s a good thing you guys are already friends. I remember when I filmed ‘The Greatest Showman’ I didn’t know many of the actors personally, so we had to go out together and do press all while being almost strangers. It was a bit nerve wracking.” Zendaya smiled at you fondly, she was like an older sister to you during this whole movie-making process, she constantly had your back. 

     “Yeah, I mean I’ll probably be in a situation like that at some point, but for my first lead role it’s nice to be working opposite a friend.” You smiled back, finally deciding on the red, sequined dress. 

     You both sat and worked through the makeup process in comfortable silence. 

     “So you and Tom…” Zendaya broke the silence and looked at you with a smirk on her face. 

     “What?” You looked at her with a dumbfounded look, before nervously laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N/N).” She poked your arm and laughed, “He’s literally obsessed with you.” 

     You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. A movie star, and very famous movie star at that, obsessed with you? You? Impossible. 

     “Yeah no, sorry but you got the wrong girl, babe.” You sighed, pulling out your phone to snap and selfie with her for your instagram story. You quickly snapped a pic of the two of you, her kissing your cheek, leaving a small, faint lipstick mark. “I mean it’d be nice,” you back tracked, “but I’m sure that’s just my wishful thinking.” 

     “What wishful thinking? I thought you were a pessimist?” Zendaya chuckled, taking her own photo with you to post later. 

     “I am, but I can’t help but indulge a bit.” 

                      ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     Before you knew it, you were back in London, staying in a rented out flat for the next three to four months. Harrison was kind enough to come over to help you set up a work space, but he also offered you to spend most of your time at his place. Since Tom was in New York, doing interviews about the new Spider-man movie and having meetings with the Marvel Cinematic Universe team to try and gauge his future in the MCU, he wouldn’t be around for almost a month, so Harrison offered up Tom’s office when you needed to go over a scene by yourself and wanted a place that was already set up. 

     The days of filming seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Most of your scenes were with Harrison, and he was the perfect scene partner. He rarely messed up, but if he did then he was quick to use it as an opportunity to improvise. His skills weren’t as well honed in like Tom’s, but it was obvious that their style ranged from a similar source. 

     The main thing about this movie that you were excited, but extremely nervous for, were the two sex scenes. The first one is at the beginning, where the two leads give in to each other for a night, then there's some implied stuff in between, and the last one is when the two leads part ways for the final time at the end of the movie. The first one had to be rough, fast, and needy, whereas the second one was direct to be more slow, thought out, and sensual. 

      Both were extremely stress-inducing to film. Harrison had also never done any scenes like this before, so he was on the same boat as you. Thankfully you had an amazing director and stunt coordinator to work with and with the help of other crew members, the scenes were mapped out so that it wasn’t too much improv or guessing on your part. 

                                 ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     The first intimate scene you shot actually happened to be the one at the end of the movie. That scene was more tame and dealt with more emotional subtexts than physical. Since you filmed that one first, you went into filming the next one with more confidence. It only took a few days to get the first scene down to perfection, so with this newfound confidence, it shouldn’t take too long to get the next one done. 

     On the days you shot intimate scenes, you only needed to wear the costume you wore before the scene and then you changed into a robe with nude underwear underneath. The bits with the outfit on before were already shot, so the director called a 30 minute break until you could begin shooting the actual sex part. 

     You were standing by the snack table, eyes scanning the table for any more muffins leftover from breakfast. The robe you wore made your skin prickle whenever a draft came onto set. 

     Just as you had found the muffin you were looking for, a pair of warm hands covered your eyes. 

     “Guess who!” An all too familiar warm, British accentuated, voice called. 

      You turned around in his arms, effectively nudging his hands from your face, and soon you were met with the warmest hazel eyes. Eyes that you missed so much this past month. 

      “Tommy!” You squealed and thrusted yourself into him in a hug. He immediately reciprocated it and wrapped your body in warmth. “What’re you doing here?” You asked once you let go of him. 

      “Harrison gave me the location so I could come watch you film. I just got home, like, two days ago.” Tom eyed you up and down, not realizing what little you had on. “Um—are you wearing anything under that?” He pointed up and down your figure. 

     “Nope, today and tomorrow we’re scheduled to film the sex scene.” You said casually, doing a silly twirl. Tom gulped. 

     “A s-sex scene?” He choked, “I didn’t know you guys had one.” 

     “Yup,” you smirked, “two actually, this is my first one ever, Haz’s too, I think. Well actually, we filmed the sex scene at the end of the movie last week.” 

     “Yeah… t-that’s cool.” Tom smiled weakly. 

     Right as you were about to continue your conversation with Tom, an arm swung over your shoulder and pulled you close. Harrison smiled at the both of you. He wore a similar robe to yours, except he left the front open. His plaid boxers on full display. 

     “Don’t listen to her, Tom. She’s a natural.” Harrison pinched your cheeks. Tom clenched his jaw at the comment. He knew Harrison hadn't meant to imply anything with it, but he couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning behind the otherwise innocent compliment. 

      You giggled and pushed his hand away, “Only ‘cus my scene partner is so darn cute.” You retaliated, poking and tickling his pecs. 

      This kind of goofy banter was normal between you and Harrison, but Tom hadn’t seen either of you in so long. He also had never seen you two interact so fluently with each other. He watched the interaction with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along and shrugging every once in a while to seem like he was paying attention. In reality though, he couldn’t pry his thoughts away from how close you were to Harrison. 

     “Ok everyone! Places! Let’s wrap this scene up and put it to rest today!” Your director called. You and Harrison smiled and waved goodbye to Tom. Harrison pointed to a chair in the room that had a nice view of the set where Tom could watch. Tom nodded and walked over to the chair, enthusiasm for watching you work completely dissipating. 

     The scene started off rough right off the bat. The second the director said ‘Action!’ you and Harrison were practically pouncing on each other. Harrison had you pressed up against the wall and you were both breathing heavily. He was leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collar bones. Your moans, which Tom always imagined to sound like music to his ears, sounded too real for his liking. But no matter how much he tried to look away, his eyes were glued to the two bodies moving fluidly with one another. 

     “Cut! Cut!” The director yelled, effectively ending the scene. You and Harrison pulled apart and he gave you a peck on the cheek, as in saying ‘good job’. “That was good, but Harrison,” The blonde nodded, awaiting further instruction. “You gotta be a little rougher, hm?” 

     Harrison nodded along with the critique. “(Y/N)?” the director moved his attention to you, “would it be okay if Harrison marked you up? Just a few hickeys to really sell the illusion. We can do without, though, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

     Tom overheard the interaction and internally hoped that you were too uncomfortable for that, but deep down he knew you would do it. You were never the type to stray away from a challenge. 

     “Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded, chest still heaving from the scene. You looked at Harrison. “Is that okay with you?” 

     Harrison nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, you guys have been working at this scene for days now, but he’d never been rough enough to leave marks. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t invigorate him. 

     So the scene started from the top, you pressed up against the wall, all your weight shoved between the flimsy wall of the set and Harrison’s strong arms. Harrison did exactly as the director required, leaving noticeable dark spots across the top of your chest. Unlike your previous moans, which had just been for show, this new roughness in his actions tore real moans from your lips. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he picked a different day to visit you on set. He shifted around, watching twin moans pull from both you and Harrison’s throat. He watched as you nipped at Harrison's ear as he faux thrusted into you. The jealousy that had pitted itself in his stomach soon turned to self-loathing. You looked really into the scene, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He knew you were a great actress, but he couldn’t believe that this was all acting. In his eyes, he believed that some part of you must wish that this was real. And part of you did like this scenario, but you wouldn’t have picked Harrison to be opposite you in this little fantasy. 

     Your moans and Harrisons both grew louder, leading up to the climax as scripted. Tom, not wanting to watch anymore exited the set quickly before he could watch the scene end. 

     You and Harrison finished up, gaining applause and praise afterwards from the director and crew members on set. 

     “Where’s Tom?” You asked, scrambling back into your robe and smoothing out your now roughed up hair. 

     Harrison, now noticing the absence of his best friend, began to feel a bit guilty. He knew Tom had a thing for you, maybe he should’ve told Tom not to visit set today. 

     “Um, (Y/N)?” He mumbled, pulling you aside slightly. 

     “Yeah?” You still looked around for Tom a bit, heart sinking when you realized that he must've left without saying goodbye. 

      “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” Harrison began, drawing your full attention, “but Tom really likes you. He always downplayed it, so I didn’t realize how much, but I think watching this scene might’ve upset him a bit.” Harrison looked towards the exit, no doubtedly where Tom left through, out into the parking lot. 

     “Oh—oh!” You gasped, feeling terribly for having put Tom in such an awkward position. “I didn’t know he felt the same.” You whispered, smiling softly to yourself. Guess Z was right after all. You pulled away from Harrison, “I’ll go talk to him.” 

                                 ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

      Tom didn’t go far. He still wanted to be there to support you; he didn’t want to come off as a jealous prick, but he couldn’t keep watching that intimacy between you and his best friend. He sat on the curb outside of the building the set was built in. A few people passed him going to their designated buildings on the lot, but he didn’t pay any mind to them, too lost in his thoughts. He needed to tell you sooner rather than later how he felt. No time to be a pussy anymore. 

     “Tom?” You walked up next to his sitting figure, still only in a robe, tightly wrapped around you. He looked up to acknowledge you, mumbling a soft ‘Hey.’ before looking back down, trying to collect his thoughts and courage. It’s now or never. 

     You sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Harrison told me something interesting in there,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “about you.” 

     Tom’s head shot up, and he looked at you with frantic eyes, only imagining the worse. There were too many things Harrison could’ve told you about Tom to sully your image of him. 

     “Whatever it was, he's a lying prick!” Tom rushed out. 

     You giggled, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, his dark hazel eyes boring into yours. 

     “That’s a shame then,” You shrugged, “considering I like you too.” 

     Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, before looking back at you, doing a double take. 

    “Wait, what?” 

     “Mhm, yeah.” You said casually, standing up. “But since Harrison’s a liar then I suppose he was wrong.” You teased. 

     “No!” Tom grabbed your wrist and pulled you back next to him, but his aim was a bit off and you ended up in his lap. “He lies about a lot, but not about this.”

     You smiled at him, “I should hope not, considering I’m crazy about you.” 

     Tom couldn’t help the smile that beamed across his face, but then he noticed the marks left on you by Harrison. Remembering why he was insecure in the first place, he looked away. 

     “What about Harrison?” He asked. You looked at him utterly confused. Tom caught on and explained further. “You looked like you were really into that scene with him.” 

     You giggled and pinched Tom’s cheek, turning it red. “I’m an actress, you idiot.”

     Tom scoffed, “I know that. It’s just— I didn’t realize you could fake that kind of love.” 

     You looked at Tom’s downcast face. You leaned in and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. You nipped and sucked softly, leaving a nice, dark pink blotch that would go away in a few days under his jaw and he whimpered softly.

     “I’d never fake that kind of love with you.” You grabbed his face, holding it gently in your hands. “I’d never have to.” You whispered, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and sweet. 

     Tom pulled you closer, resting a hand on the small of your back, kissing back fervently. 

     The short make-out session being cut short by the door to the set bursting opened. Harrison rushing out, now dressed in slacks and a white button up for the next scene you needed to shoot that day. 

     “(Y/N)! Hair and makeup need you.” You lugged yourself off of Tom’s lap, promising to talk to him after you finished for the day. You went back inside, jokingly blowing a kiss to Harrison on your way. 

     Harrison stayed outside and sat next to Tom. 

     “Did she confess first?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

     “Yup.” Tom smiled happily, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick he saw you put on earlier. 

     “You owe me 10 pounds then, you wimp.” 

     “Oh, fuck off.” Tom groaned, promptly pulling ten pounds out of his wallet and handing it to Haz. 

[storiesforallfandoms]

the only one for me ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1493

request?: yes!

“MGK Fluff ??”

description: the endless dating rumors regarding her boyfriend start to get to her

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, insecurities

masterlist (one, two)

Logging onto Twitter and seeing yet another dating rumor regarding my boyfriend and some famous, beautiful female was basically a daily routine at this point. It seemed to be nothing new, but that didn’t make it hurt any less every time I saw a new post about it.

The latest rumored lady to have “stolen Colson’s heart” was Megan Fox, who had starred in Colson’s latest music video. The article I was reading stated how much chemistry Colson and Megan had on set and how it was “so obvious” that they had a secret romance happening behind the scenes.

I wasn’t hurt because I believed the rumors. I trusted Colson. I knew he’d never cheat on me, but seeing all these beautiful women and seeing his fans and media outlets commenting on how cute he would look with someone else so much prettier than me really did nothing for my confidence.

I wasn’t famous, I was just your average girl who worked an average hob and went to school on the side. Due to this, Colson and I decided to keep our relationship a secret so I wouldn’t be harassed by paparazzi and fans. I appreciated the privacy I had been getting, but it did make it hard to see all these dating rumors.

This rumor got to me in a way the others hadn’t before and I had an overwhelming urge to call Colson. He was probably asleep or preparing for the show that night, but I needed to hear his voice.

I was shocked when he answered on the third ring. “Hey babe!”

I could hear a crowd on his end of the call. “Hey! What’s all the noise?”

“We’re celebrating before I go on stage.”

“Before?” I asked, teasingly. “What are you guys celebrating?”

“The Bloody Valentine video hit a million views in less than 24 hours! None of my videos have ever done that before, so we’re celebrating.”

“Oh my God, Colson that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

Someone called out to Colson on his end. I could hear him responding, but his response was muffled as I realized the voice was a female voice.

“Is that...is that Megan?” I asked.

“Yeah! We invited her since she’s the leading lady of the video.” Another comment was made by Megan, to which Colson said to me, “She says hi!”

I couldn’t respond. I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes and I was afraid Colson would hear my voice breaking if I spoke. Instead, I managed to squeak out a “gotta go” before hanging up.

~~~~~~

As I expected, there were articles published about the video celebration, specifically about Colson and Megan. A handful of pictures were taken outside wherever the celebration was taking place of Colson and Megan laughing as he puffed on a joint. The captions posted under this picture from numerous sites and fan pages were all the same: “look how cute Megan and Colson are!”

I had to go offline for a while because I was getting more upset than I had before.

It seemed like Colson didn’t notice as much as I did, so I never really brought the issue up. I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t be friends with women, or think of me as a jealous girlfriend or anything.

But I knew he could tell something was off. He kept trying to coax it out of me, but I wouldn’t budge. I figured he would grow tired of my refusal and would let it go. The last thing I expected was to come home from work one day and find Colson waiting for me in my apartment.

“Hey!” I said when I found him sat in my living room. “What are you doing here?”

“We have a few days before the next show, so I asked to come home before then,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

The six worst words to ever hear. I felt my worry rise as I approached him and sat next to him on the couch.

“What’s on your mind lately?” he asked. “I know you keep saying it’s nothing, but I can tell it’s not nothing. I’m worried about you, babe. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I looked down at my lap as I shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just work and school, I guess.”

“Is this about Megan?”

For some reason, hearing him say her name felt like I was being stabbed through the heart. I had to bite my lip to try and hold back my tears.

“When you hung up so suddenly during the video celebration, I realized something was up,” he said. “And then you started deleting your social media accounts, or making them private, and you were acting different. It all started that night. If it’s because we invited Megan to the party, I’m sorry if that upset you. There was no underlying meanings behind inviting her, it was just because she was in the video and we decided she should be at the celebration.”

“It’s not because she was there!” I finally snapped, unable to hold myself back. “I don’t care if you’re friends with Megan, or with any woman, but I do care that everyone thinks you’re dating every female who so much as breathes in your direction. And it really doesn’t help my self-esteem to see people saying how happy you look or how cute you’d look with someone who is, like, a million times prettier than me.”

“Babe, that’s not true,” he said. “I mean, I’ve seen the rumors about me and Megan, but it’s not all the women I’m friends with - ”

I laughed, humorlessly. “No, not all of them. Just Chantal and Noah and Ash and Sommer and now Megan. So no, not all of them, just most of them.”

I could see the gears turning in Colson’s head as he thought about it. Maybe he didn’t see the same stuff I did, maybe I just saw more because of how insecure it made me. But those rumors were there, and they had been nearly our entire relationship.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I never realized...I don’t attention to shit like that. I never thought much about the way I acted around my female friends.”

“You treat them the way you treat the boys,” I said. “I’ve seen how you are with Ash, the two of you are just friends. But people don’t believe that men and women can just be friends so when they see men and women acting as friends, they assume that means they’re dating. There’s nothing you can really do about it.”

Colson put a hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “You don’t believe any of that shit though, right? You know it’s all media bullshit.”

I nodded. “Yeah, of course I do. I know you’d never cheat on me. I trust you so much.”

“And you can’t possibly believe that they’re any more beautiful than you are.”

I chuckled. “Okay, that one I can’t agree to considering the person you’re currently in a dating rumor with is Megan fucking Fox. I mean, have you seen her? She’s the most beautiful woman in the world!”

“Not to me she’s not.”

I looked away from him again, feeling my cheeks heat up and a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do.” I felt his finger gently touch my chin, lifting my head so I would look at him. “(Y/N), I hope you know you mean the world to me. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever known, and you own my heart. You’re the only one for me and I love you more than words could ever say. I’m sorry you’ve had to witness all these stupid rumors, and I’m sorry I never noticed them so I could assure you of all of this sooner. But I mean it, you’re everything to me. I love you so much.”

The tears I had been holding back for so long finally started to fall down my cheeks. I awkwardly laughed as I tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming. “That was so cliche.”

“You loved it, though.”

“I love you, that’s a whole different thing.”

Colson smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. Warmth filled me as my lips touched his, and it was just another reminder that he was mine. I ran my hand through his hair and leaned into him until we were both laying back on the couch.

When we finally managed to pull away from one another, Colson rested his forehead on mine. “Did you have any other plans today?”

I shook my head.

“Good, because I don’t intend on letting you leave this apartment any time soon.”

He wrapped me into a tight cuddle, and I gladly accepted these plans he had made for us.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hello! I saw your asks open and i wanted to request some angst headcanons with dad!Asmo. I just read Luci's and oh man that sure hurt my heart, you write angst so well!

Unwanted (Dad!Asmo x F!Reader) ANGST

A/N : Mammon plays a really big part in this, just as Beel played a big role in the dad!Lucifer fic. It's never hinted whether they're together or not, it's kind of up to the imagination... but if you'd like, I can write a part two to this??? (I will also, to anyone who might want it, write a part two to the dad!Lucifer fic)

Word Count : 2.3K Warnings : pregnancy ; children ; maternity ; babies ; hinted abortion ; angst ;

He never wanted children, he didn’t want anything that would actually tie him down to anything or anyone. It wasn’t his “thing”, and you both had done everything to prevent it from happening. Up until now, everything had worked, there had never been one mistake, but the both of you got sloppy. There was a party, and… well, you loved him, and he had said that he loved you, and precautions weren’t a “thing” at that moment. One slip up, one mistake, and now everything was falling apart.

“I didn’t want this. I don’t want that.” He spat the words at you, pointing towards your stomach. He had only stopped pacing long enough to say it before starting again, walking the length of his room as he gnawed at his perfectly manicured fingers. You hadn’t expected anything different from him, but it still hurt that he was blaming the whole thing on you, as if it didn’t take 50/50 participation to make something like this happen. “It’ll completely ruin my image. A child with a human! It’ll be all over the tabloids, in every magazine… I can’t have that.” His behavior shouldn’t have been that shocking to you, but to hear just how selfish he really was, to know that he thought so little of you, it hurt way worse than you ever thought it would. One moment he was professing his love to you, and now he’s disgusted with you. It could have been that your emotions were running high from the situation, or maybe the hormones had just taken over completely, but you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and you wanted to fight him. “Your image?! This thing could kill me and all you care about is your stupid public persona… Screw you! I wish I never fell in love with you.” His eyes went soft, and for a moment you thought that maybe he’d apologize, maybe he was rethinking his own words, his actions, that maybe you’d be able to be a team to work through this mess. You were wrong, you were so wrong. “Wish all you want, we both know you’d have never been able to resist me.” Narcissistic, selfish, he was just awful. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight back the tears as you walked past him. He didn’t deserve your last words, he didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve you.

The twelfth week was supposed to be the most exciting. It was when most couples would finally make their announcements, happily tell family and friends that they were expecting. Your twelfth week was a nightmare. You were trapped in the Devildom, human doctors wouldn’t know what the hell was going on if they delivered a child with horns, a child so angelically demonic that they’d probably call the hospital priest to your room as soon as they saw it. The only place where you’d be able to safely deliver a child like this and live through it would be in the Devildom. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to relieve yourself of the problem. You had gone to Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos, even Lord Diavolo, asking them if there was any way that they could just… get rid of it. Sadly, Asmodeus wasn’t just a narcissistic, selfish prick, he was also sadistic. None of them could do anything without Asmodeus’ approval since it was his child too. Every time one of them asked him, he would refuse. He didn’t even give a reason, he just wanted to see you suffer. Strangely, you had found comfort and solace in Mammon. You were pretty sure he was only helping because he still had a crush on you, but he became your emotional, mental, and physical support throughout everything. You had told him many times that he didn’t have to basically “fill in” for Asmo, but he insisted that it was the least he could do considering his little brother was being a dick. He wasn’t just your support at the house, he was… invested in the child that Asmo hadn’t wanted. He took you to doctors appointments, sometimes even getting in the way of the doctor as he pointed to the ultrasound screen. He was so excited that most people just assumed it was his kid, and he never denied it either. It was just easier that way, to go along with whatever the other demons said because he knew that any mention of Asmo would upset you and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Some days the both of you would sit on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of maternity books. He’d really try to understand the diagrams on the pages, but you could tell that he was confused and sometimes he’d even look up at you from the pages, and then down at your stomach, and then up at you, before looking back down at the pages. It was cute, and you’d giggle lightly, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued flipping through the pages. He had become the only person in the house that you felt like you could fully trust and rely on. Everyone else wanted to stay out of the drama, nobody wanted to get involved, but Mammon wasn’t there for the drama, he was only there for you, he was there when you needed him.

“Can you believe him? Can you believe both of them? We haven’t even broken up and they’re sleeping together, she’s even wearing his clothes. It’s ridiculous, and Mammon is out there playing dad with my kid.” Asmo sat on the edge of the counter, voicing his complaints to anyone who would listen. Sadly it was Beel’s turn since he was the only one in the kitchen right now. Most of the time the other brothers would just hide themselves away, not wanting to deal with Asmo right now, but Beel had gotten hungry and he really thought he’d be lucky enough to avoid his brother. “I don’t know what the big deal is… You didn’t want the kid anyway.” He wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around Asmo, he wasn’t going to lie to make anyone feel better. In Beel’s eyes, Asmo was completely in the wrong. “If Y/N is finding some sort of happiness in spending time with Mammon, who are you to complain? It stopped being your place when you said you didn’t want it.” He shrugged before grabbing his plate and going straight back to his room. He wasn’t going to continue listening to it, but he hoped that he had left Asmo with something to really think about. He walked up the stairs, going straight to the bedroom door, knocking loudly. He wasn’t going to stop until someone opened the door either. Mammon got up from the bed that you both had been propped up on, rolling his eyes as he walked over to his door, groaning loudly when he saw Asmo standing there. “Whaddaya want? We don’t need ya here… yer just gonna stress ‘er out.” He was trying to talk quietly, not wanting you to hear him or even know who was there. He was so protective of you, he wouldn’t let anyone else serve your food during meals, he’d even stand outside the bathroom door whenever you were in there just to make sure you didn’t fall or hurt yourself. Asmo pushed his way into the room much to Mammon’s annoyance. “I don’t care, Mammon. Y/N isn’t yours, and neither is the child. They’re both mine, and I’d like to have a word with her.” He said snidely, but Mammon wasn’t going to have it. Brother or not, he cared too much about you, he had worked so hard to help you get over what Asmo had done, and he wasn’t going to let him waltz back in and ruin everything. Mammon wasn’t weak, he was way stronger than he looked, and right now he was showing his strength, grabbing Asmo’s arm and practically throwing him out of the room. His teeth were barred and the growl that was coming from him sounded feral, animalistic, it was terrifying. “Neither of them are yers! I’ve been there fer everything, every doctor visit, I even bought a damn room fer the kid and she’s sleepin’ in my room, next ta me, and a next ta Y/N. Ya know why?! ‘Cause ya don’t jus’ get ta come back when ya fine’ly realize that ya fucked up! Now… leave us alone. We don’t need ya here.” He left Asmo out in the hallway, crumpled against the wall as he walked back into the room. “She…” Asmo kept repeating the word as he pushed himself up off the floor. He was having a daughter, and he hadn’t even known about it, he wouldn’t have known about it if Mammon hadn’t screamed at him. It was strange how knowing made things more real, it made him care more, and the worst part was that he knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t know how to fix what he had done, but he knew that he had to try at least. “Lucifer…” “I don’t want things to be like this when she gets here. It’s not going to be long either.” You sighed, finally relaxing once more in the bed once Mammon got in next to you. “Why was he here anyway?” Mammon shrugged, focusing all of his attention on your stomach trying to calm himself. He liked watching it move, he thought it was neat.

The delivery was smoother than you thought it would be, and Mammon only fainted twice during the whole thing, so he did pretty good. Delivering a child in the Devildom had its perks, the main one being that you didn’t have to stay more than one day in the hospital to recover. They did some spell and you were completely fine. It was strange, but you appreciated it greatly. The only issue with the perk was that it meant you were going back home and that meant you’d have to face Asmo. She looked so much like him, and you could tell that Mammon was upset by it. Even though he knew she wasn’t actually his, he wished that she didn’t look so much like her father. Her eyes were his exact color, and it left you speechless when she first opened them, gazing up at you with wonder and curiosity. She was precious, and she was yours. As you walked through the door you were met with balloons and streamers, and Asmo. You heard Mammon growl quietly, and you quickly held your hand out to him, silently begging him to stop. He was holding the carseat and you didn’t need him to lose his temper right now. “I just wanted to welcome her home, welcome you home. I bought some things for her, they’re outside of Mammon’s door.” Asmo said nervously, and for once he was terrified of being rejected. “We don’t need noth-” Mammon had started, but you quickly shook your head, pleading to him with your eyes to just stay calm. He groaned loudly, eyeing Asmo angrily before walking past him to the stairs. “Fine. She’s prob’ly hungry… I’m gonna feed ‘er. Ya comin’ up?” You nodded quickly, making sure he got up the stairs alright before turning back to Asmo. “What are you doing, Asmo?”

He moved into the living room, waiting for you to sit down before he did, and he looked scared, he looked sad. Of course you didn’t like seeing him like this, but it was his fault, he had caused all of this. “I don’t want to be alone. I know that sounds selfish, that I’m making this about myself again, but I’m not trying to. When Mammon told me… he said she… It's a girl?” You nodded slowly and you saw his face light up for only a second before it left once more. “I was scared, I am scared… I didn’t know if I’d be a good… father. I never saw myself as one, but seeing Mammon, and he’s doing so well… I never saw him as a father either… I thought that maybe, since he could… that maybe I could too.” He sighed, bringing his hand back up to his lips to chew at his fingers again, his orange eyes glistening with the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “I know that what I said was wrong… I was rude. I didn’t think I’d have a problem finding someone to take my mind off of everything, but I was wrong. I love you, and nobody else is going to take your place, nobody else can take your place.” You both sat on the couch in silence, his tears finally falling as he waited for you to say something, and yours building up as you tried to think of something to say. “This isn’t fair… You know this isn’t fair. You can’t… you can’t pick and choose when you want to be a dad. You weren’t there… and you made it very clear that you didn’t want her. I… I can’t do this Asmo… I’m sorry… They’re waiting for me… I-I have to go.” You took a deep breath as you stood from the couch, wiping your tears with the back of your hands as you started walking to the stairs. “Y/N…” He walked up behind you, grabbing your hand to stop you. You didn’t turn around to face him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, but he didn’t mind. He was actually thankful that you didn’t look at him, because what he was about to say was the hardest thing he’d ever have to say in his life. “I know that I’m unwanted… But… If I may… Can I meet her? Just once? Please?”

[helliontherapscallion]

Sweet Betrayal

Part 2     Part 3     Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, neglect, successful suicide attempt, death, insanity

(A/N): I had a little too much fun writing this

“I’ll help you.”

Tommy cheered and clapped a hand on your shoulder. Wilbur gave you a slightly manic smile, his plan is going to work out perfectly with you working with them. Techno merely grunted in acknowledgement. Something about your tone threw him for a loop, but he just summed it up to the voices and his growing trust issues. The voices were screaming at him not to trust you, that you were a traitor, that you’d betray them. But there’s no way his youngest sibling would ever betray them; they couldn’t hurt a fly. They were basically defenseless. 

Tubbo looked slightly hesitant to accept you as his spying partner, but he figured that you joining him would take most of the stress off from his shoulders. You were close to Schlatt, he basically treated you as if you were his own. He was slightly jealous at how close to his father you were when he, Schlatt’s biological son, was often standing in the same room as them. He knew that Schlatt was a shitty father and could never shape up to being as good of a father figure than Philza was to him, but he just couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that his own father, who abandoned him at the side of the road as a kid, so readily took on another kid that wasn’t himself. Despite his resentment towards you, he accepted having you as a partner. Maybe once he got to know you better you weren’t so bad. 

On the outside, you were giving your ‘brothers’ a sweet smile. Almost sickeningly sweet as you plastered it on your face to hide the resentment and hatred brewing inside of you threatening to escape and fill this ravine with it’s raging waves. They were never your brothers, always choosing to exclude you from everything they were doing. As a kid, you had nobody to rely on. Tommy had Tubbo and Wilbur had Techno and Philza. You were completely, utterly alone as a kid. 

You were always deprived of social interaction, always being told to ‘suck it up’, ‘quit whining’, and ‘just accept it’. You watched from the sidelines as your brothers received all the love and support from each other and Philza, and you were sick of being left out. Their proposal has made you finally reach your breaking point. You came to the realization that you were only going to get their support only when you were of use to them. 

Even as adults and as teenagers, they’re always acting like children. Whining over losing power, getting exiled, how ‘tyrannical’ every single government was, like get a grip. You brought this upon yourself. Manberg would be much better off without you two. Just accept leadership, it’s there to bring natural structure to society. This isn’t high school, stop overreacting. Oh, how you longed to scream in their faces, drop the happy, sweet, and defenseless facade you always wore. You were broken down by them, and you were going to be their downfall. You would make sure of it. At least, that’s what Schlatt promised you. 

You met Schlatt one day when you were alone in the forest far from the house you called home. It was dark out and you were hiding from the mobs that threatened to take one of your lives. He found you by following your whimpers, taking you back to his house and giving you shelter for a few days. He treated you like you were a person, an actual human being, and that made you realize that you weren’t alone in the world afterall. Philza and your brothers didn’t even notice that you were gone until after a week of staying with Schlatt. You remembered how Philza stormed into Schlatt’s house, grabbed you by the ear, apologized to Schlatt, and drug you home lecturing you the entire time. You were grounded for a month after that and banned from talking to Schlatt.

However, you still talked to Schlatt in secret. He eventually treated you like you were his own, showering you with the love and support that you were deprived of. You supposed you craved constant reassurance and kindness, and you chopped it up to how you were raised. You had trauma and Schlatt was there to fix that. He gave you constant support, something your ‘family’ has never done. Well, they did once when you finally broke and fell into a deep depression, never leaving your room. They didn’t notice that, but what they did notice was the death message that flashed across their comm tablets: “(Y/n) suffocated.”

When they ran to your room, they caught the last of the golden dust that used to be your body drifting into the atmosphere. In the center of your room hanging from an exposed pipe in the ceiling was a noose fashioned from an old rope they had noticed had gone missing a few weeks ago. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you hung yourself. 

For a solid month after that, they treated you like they treated each other and you felt like you were soaring the entire time. Philza even told you that he loved you and that he was proud of you when you ate your first meal in a week!  All of the attention and support faded when they saw you smile more and laugh louder. You faded again into obscurity and all that came out of that successful suicide attempt was not your family’s unconditional love like you had hoped, but an ugly scar that wrapped around the entirety of your neck.  

You were going to fuck up their plans. They deserved it for ostracizing you all those years. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your and Schlatt’s plan was unfolding swimmingly. Your idiotic brothers had no clue of your betrayal and that always made you want to laugh hysterically, but you held it in until you got back to the White House. You would laugh in Schlatt’s office with him. The cabinet often heard loud, boisterous laughter booming from behind the closed office doors, but they’ve long since learned not to question it. 

They grew wary of you two, it seemed that your sanities were turning into slippery slopes. The Emperor and the Secretary of Defense could not be fully trusted to make any decisions anymore. Even Quackity, who loved his adopted kid to death, agreed that they couldn’t be trusted. You and Schlatt had changed so much from when he first started dating Schlatt. It hurt him to see his husband and his child slip into insanity.

While you were planning the festival with Schlatt and Tubbo, it was extremely hard for you to keep a straight face. Whenever Schlatt wasn’t looking, Tubbo would smirk and glance at you from the corner of his eyes. It was in those moments specifically that you would struggle the most with containing your laughter. Originally, Schlatt was only going to exile Tubbo for his treachery, but after the fiasco with the lame excuse of ‘farming totems of undying’, you convinced him to turn it into an execution. You organized every single part of Tubbo’s execution, it was perfect in your opinion. At the same time, you were giving Schlatt information of your brother’s whereabouts during the festival. You were going to put on a show for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the stage, you were shifting and fidgeting relentlessly from your position between your adopted dads. From an outside perspective, one would assume that you’re nervous to be on stage in the middle of the spotlight. Everybody outside of the cabinet and your fathers still saw you as the innocent kid that wouldn’t hurt a fly. How wrong they were. Tubbo’s speech was the hardest to sit through, Quackity had to have a tight grip on your hand to prevent you from rushing the teenager and caging him too early. 

After Schlatt gave you the signal, you, him, and Quackity quickly trapped him in a cage made of yellow concrete. You could hear the shocked gasps of the audience and saw Wilbur holding Tommy down from revealing their hiding spot. Schlatt gently nudged you up to the microphone with a kind smile. 

You walked confidently up to the podium and gave the audience the widest closed-eyed grin they’d ever seen on you. “Hello citizens of Manberg, other guests,” you opened your eyes and shot a smug smirk over to your older brothers on the roof. You took great pleasure in the look of hurt, anger, and betrayal in their eyes. 

“What you are going to witness today is my pride and joy. As it turns out, our dearest Tubbo here,” you turned around to give a grandiose gesture at the cage behind you, “is a filthy little traitor.” The last word ripped itself from your mouth like a rattlesnake spitting venom at its victims. 

Tubbo banged on the walls in a rage, “you were a spy too! YOU WERE A SPY FOR POGTOPIA TOO!” 

“On the contrary, dearest Tubbo. I was a double agent working for Schlatt, my father. I was never loyal to Pogtopia. Why would I be when you all used me?” You gave him a gentle smile. The insane and malicious glint in your eyes contrasted the kindness of your features. You turned back to the podium with that same smile. The combination of your words and your expression sent cold chills down the spines of the Manbergians. They now saw you as who you really were. 

“Now, since I was so rudely interrupted,” you shot a glare at the shocked boy behind you, “hm, where was I?” You rubbed your chin in false confusion before you perked up, “oh right! What you are going to witness today is the public execution of our dear friend Tubbo.” You broke into a series of manic giggling, pounding your fist against the wood of the podium. The gasps of the audience sounded like music to your ears.

“TECHNOBLADE, GET THE HELL UP HERE BROTHER! YOU HAVE THE HONORS.”

You shouted through your laughter. Technoblade climbed up the stairs and stood facing you with a harsh glare. You grinned at him as he spoke to you with his usual monotone voice. This time, there was an undeniable angry undertone you could clearly detect, “what do you want me to do?”

“You still have that rocket launcher, right?”

He pulled it out of his satchel. You squealed happily and jumped up and down clapping your hands excitedly, “good! I’ve always liked fireworks. Now be a dear and make Tubbo go out with a bang!”

He walked over to face Tubbo’s cage and pointed the crossbow at him. You could see his finger trembling over the trigger and a nervous sweat gathering at his brow. After a while of seeing no firework action, you grew impatient and started to furiously shout at him.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BLOOD GOD? WHAT, ARE YOU TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO DO IT NOW? KILL HIM! BLAST HIM TO SMITHEREENS! FUCKING DO IT.”

With every word that left your mouth, you stepped closer to him until you were screaming into his ear. You felt immense pleasure when you saw him start to shake. When you heard the shooting of fireworks and the agonized screams of Tubbo and saw the colorful blasts, you felt like you were on cloud nine. It was beautiful. 

Your insane laughter was heard over the chaos that followed. Schlatt and Quackity, seeing Techno’s growing anger after killing Tubbo, moved to push you behind them. Quackity wrapped his wings around you in a tight hug before fireworks were shot at your family. After you pushed Quackity away from you, you saw your father’s corpse lying on the stage floor. It was clear that he had just lost a life. 

Quackity collapsed to the stage with a groan before he briefly passed out. You checked if he was still breathing before you looked at Technoblade with anger written clear on your features. You gave a furious shout before you charged at him, determined to kill the unkillable. 

You dodged the fireworks that he shot at you before you finally reached him. He dodged your flailing arms and the attempts to push him off from the stage with ease. “I SHOULD’VE KNOWN NOT TO TRUST YOU!” 

His shout was dismissed by you, not registering in your clouded mind at all. He grabbed your arms and threw you to the edge of the stage. Before you could get up, he stomped a foot down on your chest and pointed the rocket launcher at your face. You were not phased by this, grinning and laughing with insanity-filled glee.  “KILL ME TECHNO! DO IT, GO ON! FUCKING DO IT. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!”

He stared at you with the most anger you’ve ever seen from him before he pushed you off the stage with a simple kick of his foot. As you were plummeting to your death, you saw Technoblade point the rocket launcher at you before you saw the colorful rockets shooting at you. Your laughter ending abruptly with the explosion of fireworks and the thump of your bloodied corpse against the pavement was something the citizens of Manberg would never forget. 

Your brothers stared at your corpse as it disappeared with shock and anger. They never suspected you of all people to be a traitor, they thought you were the sweet, naive kid they knew growing up. They thought your allegiance to them would be unbreaking and you’d follow them blindly. Obviously, they were wrong. There was no saving you. You were too far gone. 

When you woke up with Schlatt and Quackity holding your hands at your bedside, all of the memories flooded back to you. They held you as you cried in frustration, wiping at your tears with gentle, reassuring smiles and loving words. Rage filled you as you remembered how they got away with their lives. You had one life left, and you were going to dedicate it to their downfall. Even if you died in the process. They should fear the day you return. There was no saving them from your wrath. 

[iwas-baby]

“affection”

iwaizumi hajime x f! reader

tw/cw: insecurities, beauty standards, mentions of cheating, reassurance, hurt/comfort, angst to smut, angst with a happy ending, comfort sex, make up sex, oral (f. receiving), vaginal penetration, cream pie, aftercare, lots of praise.

fights between couples was common and healthy, though in the heat of the moment words get thrown around and people say things that they don't really means. fits iwaizumi were rare, though they still happened. his eyebrows would pinch together and his hands would form fists.

both of you hated having to raise your voices, especially over insignificant issues. all you'd asked of you was to try coming home from work a little bit earlier, but with all the stress that had been on his back iwaizumi found himself snappier than usual.

"you really don't trust me, do you?" his eyes narrowed and you felt yourself shrink. you didn't want to feel so upset every time someone yelled at you but all you wanted was a bit more of his time, to feel special, to feel loved.

"that's not what i said, hajime," you reply, just as angry deep down, "i just don't know why you come home hours after you tell me you'll be back." you had never thought iwaizumi was capable of cheating, he was too much of an honest man.

"work is busy, don't you realize we're training for the fucking olympics?!" his frustration was clear, irritation seeping through his veins. you felt your lip quiver, you just wanted to scream.

"well how am i suppose to know? you never answer my text, you-you," unable to finish your sentence, you heard him scoff.

"i what? i'm fucking other girls? i'm a cheater? if i wanted to cheat on you i would have by now?" at his words you could feel your heart sinking lower and lower. "because believe me, there've been girls a million times prettier than you and i've said no, and for what? to come home to your constant nagging?"

iwaizumi stopped, eyes widening, processing what he was actually saying as he looked into your teary, exhausted eyes. he was waiting for you to hiss back, to say something equally harsh in return, but you didn't—you couldn't.

moving from where you stood in the living room you started for your shared bedroom, not bothering to even look at your boyfriend. your mind had always been riddled with insecurities, how iwaizumi was out of your league and you'd even spoken to him about it before. your eyes stung as you simply threw yourself under the covers, hoping that crying yourself to sleep would work.

iwaizumi knew he fucked up, sitting on the couch, cursing himself for being so hotheaded, for hurting you so badly. he huffed, rubbing his temples, wondering if you'd still even want him to sleep next to you.

yes, girls had thrown themselves onto him, but cheating had never crossed his mind, he'd never considered it because they all dimmed in comparison to you.

he stood outside the bedroom door, gently knocking on it. you didn't reply and he assumed you were either too upset with him to answer or you'd fallen asleep. regardless, he slowly opened the door and found you curled up form holding your pillow close to you chest.

"baby," his tone was soft, greatly contrasting how it was earlier. iwaizumi stepped towards you, noticing your closed eyes and tear stained cheeks. with a guilty sigh, he sat down at the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your thigh.

you peeked your eyes open and you debated whether or not you would talk to him but seeing the harsh frown lines on his forehead, it was best to resolve the issue now.

"i'm sorry," you whispered, sniffling, you were too nervous to meet his eyes. you didn't have to say it but he knew what you were thinking; telling him to find another girl, someone better than yourself.

he placed his other hand on your cheek, rubbing away a single tear that manged to slip, "don't be, you don't need to apologize." his body shifted as he hovered over you, leaning his head close to your face.

"i was out of line and i know i can't take back what i said," he stopped, letting his words linger in the air, "but i want you to know that i'm all yours." you sniffled again, nodding slightly.

iwaizumi pressed a quick kiss to your lips, sliding his hand up to your waist. you gulped, letting his touch bring you that familiar comfort as he continued with his apology,

"you were right, baby, i haven't been here for you when you needed me," he kissed your lips again, "so, please, let me make it up to you. alright pretty girl?"

“okay...” your tone was soft and barely audible, iwaizumi was lucky to have heard you. he’d never felt so relieved to hear that word, all he wanted to do what to make you happy, to show you how much he cared.

he carefully moved your hips allowing you to lay flat on the bed, slowly parting your legs and giving him room to crawl between them.

"i promise i'll take such good care of you," and you knew that iwaizumi was always one to keep his promises. you let him take the hem of your pants, tugging them down to leave you in nothing but your panties. a caring smile broke his face, moving his head towards your pussy.

his hands gently grabbed your thighs, spreading you even wider as you felt him press his nose against your panties, licking through the fabric.

your quiet whimpers had already begun and soon, he'd taken off your underwear, faced with your already dripping cunt.

iwaizumi groaned, kissing you clit, lapping up your juices while teasing your hole with his tongue. he felt your plush thighs pushing against his grip, he almost chuckled, you were so cute when you squirmed.

he spared a second to look up at you, face already fucked out and heated with embarrassment. he took this and swirled your sensitive bud, feeling you tug on his hair.

“‘m gonna cum haji-ahhh,” he smirked against your cunt and like you said, your cream coated iwaizumi’s tongue as even his face.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, coming up and planting a kiss against your lips, letting you cup his face and better station his torso between your legs. you groaned, feeling how his dick was pressing against you through his pants, hard as a rock.

he began to strip of his remaining clothing before ripping off your shirt, the two of you pressed together, naked. iwaizumi peppered kisses all over your chest, fingers delicately brushing over collarbones and any beauty marks.

he met your eyes with a guilty look, still not able to fully forgive himself. you only cupped his face, pressing your lips into a soft, thin smile.

"i love you so much," he breathed out, shuffling his hips to begin to line up his throbbing cock with your slick folds. you groaned at the contact, running your hands over his neck, as you nodded.

"i love you too," with that, you felt the tip of his dick push into you, your mouth hanging open, gasping at the feeling. inch by inch, iwaizumi took his time, splitting you open on his cock.

he had bottomed out, watching your face contort in pleasure, giving you a minute to adjust. “are you feeling alright sweetheart?”

“please move, haji.” he huffed with a nod, watching you carefully as his hips began to rock back and forth. your head tilted back, the feeling of the thick veins that decorated his cock brushing against you sensitive gummy walls sending you into a state of bliss.

you could barely hear the praise and compliments he was giving you, too fucked out to process time itself. it felt as if he'd hit your g-spot more times than you could count, his fingers rolling your overstimulated clit around like it was nothing.

"you're my good girl," he spoke with such tenderness you felt like you were melting into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing the two of you even closer together.

"fuck, you're all mine." he repeated, your stomach filling with butterflies, the familar feeling of the cord in your gut snapping was getting closer and closer. you dug your nails into his back, whimpering his name, warning him about what was to come.

"it's okay baby, just let go," he talked your thought your orgasm, kissing against your lips and pecking your cheek as he finally finished chasing his own high.

his cum dribbled out of you and the two of you stayed in that position for a moment longer, his dick softening and a pool of your juices mixing on the sheets.

"i love you, never forget it." he kissed your lips for the nth time that evening, this one filled with just the same passion. you sniffled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"i love you too, haji," you spoke against his skin, feeling him pull out of you, letting your head gently rest against the pillow, promising to come back with a damp towel and some water.

as soon as he cleaned the two of you up, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. his arms wrapped around you, bringing a smile to your face, his protective nature and comforting embrace was just what you needed.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 1 - Decoy [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤ I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

As always, I don’t own anything.

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: Trouble has a way of following certain people.

Sometimes you wondered whether you would run away screaming when you were a child if you knew what kind of a person you would turn into.

It wasn’t exactly your fault though. For years and years, several people had put the blame on several different things. Eventually they would reach the same conclusion though; the psychiatrists, your superiors, the very few people you could call your family, they all agreed on one thing.

It wasn’t you, it was the abandonment.

The abandonment you went through when you were a teenager had somehow started this domino, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop this constant fall, not even you.

But as you would figure out soon, you were lucky. Instead of being consumed by your anger, you could direct it somewhere else. You were recruited and trained from a very young age, and somewhere along the way, you realized that if you wanted to survive you were going to have to sacrifice certain things.

Forgiveness was the first one to disappear. Guilt was another.

Then fear.

Then, love.

Ah well. Worse things happen in the world every day.

If anything it made your job easier.

You cracked your neck and opened the door to your apartment, the key sticking to your fingers because of the blood on your hands for a moment and you made a face as you shut the door, leaning back.

A very long shower and a bottle of wine sounded like a good idea.

You placed your gun on the table, took the dagger strapped to your thigh out of its holster and got the knives out of the heels of your shoes before flinging yourself onto your couch and turning the TV on.

“Also called Sokovia Accords 2.0 by the critics—“

“What the superheroes think about this remains a mystery—“

“The first time caused a huge rift between Captain America and Iron Man but nobody knows the new Captain America Sam Wilson’s comment on it—“

You didn’t get to change the channel again when your phone started vibrating in your pocket, making you sit up straight. You muted the TV, and checked the caller I.D before you answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hi, how’s Paris?” the cheerful voice of your best friend reached you, “Had enough croissants yet?”

A small smile pulled at your lips. After your only parental figure had left you to go God knew where, General had decided to adopt you and raise you like a daughter. His actual daughter Chloe had welcomed you with open arms, and you had been best friends since then.

Her being the top analyst of the division didn’t hurt either.

“Mm hm, because that’s all I’m doing. Eating croissants, visiting museums—”

“Killing and maiming targets...” she mused, finishing your sentence for you and you heaved a sigh.

“Somehow that last one isn’t included in the city guide,” you pointed out. “Chloe, you know this is a line for—“

“Official contact from General, yeah yeah,” she said, “In my defense, you didn’t pick up the phone an hour ago when I called you from my phone.”

“Do you know how hard it is to use touch screen when your hands are covered in blood?”

“What happened to your sniper rifle, did it fall into Seine?”

“It required close combat,” you said, “And the target swallowed the chip before I could get it, so I had to perform a spontaneous autopsy.”

“Just so you know, whenever you talk about your job I have to watch like a hundred cute videos after I hang up.”

“Happens.” you said, “How’s everything?”

“You missed us already?”

You grinned, “Maybe.”

“Good, because dad wants you back. He’ll contact you any day now.”

Your head snapped up and you stood up from the couch, “Really?”

“Duh. Have you seen how negotiations for these new Accords are going? It’s going to be a mess and we need you here.”

“The second one hasn’t passed officially.”

“Well no, but you know how my father thinks.” she said and you tilted your head.

“Are we sure it’s General who wants me there and not you?”

“Okay, that was one prank ages ago and I didn’t hear the end of it!” she protested, “Don’t you trust me at all?”

“Nope.”

“You know, I’m being the perfect friend and calling you to give you some good news but if you’re going to be like this, my news can wait until you get here.”

You pulled your brows together, “What news?”

“What do I get in return?”

“My endless gratitude,” you deadpanned, “Come on. What news?”

“You can’t tell anyone yet but I think you’re getting a promotion.”

Your breath got caught in your throat, “You’re joking.”

“Don’t forget about me when you become a handler, you hear me?” She let out a laugh, I need friends in high places.”

“Your dad runs the division Chloe. It doesn’t get any higher than that.”

“That doesn’t count!”  

You pressed a hand over your chest, “Just— what kind of a promotion are we talking about?”

“I mean I snooped around his files and casually committed treason.” she said, “But even I don’t know yet. They must be still making the adjustments.”

You opened your mouth to reply but then your phone vibrated again and you lowered it to check the message on the screen.

It was simple but again, all his texts were simple and to the point.

From: General

Time to come back. Jet leaves in 2 hours.

Here goes my shower and wine night.

“Chloe?” you said, walking to the sink to wash your hands so that you could start packing, “You want anything from here? I’m coming home.”

                                              ***

The best thing about being on the move all the time was that you could pack in minutes and the division would take care of the things you had left behind.

Apartments, belongings-

Not that you carried any belongings with you, or bought any more than necessary. It would’ve made you form a bond, which was less than ideal for any spy.

You suppressed the yawn splitting your face and made your way to General’s office. This jet-lag was going to make your life pretty difficult in the following 24 hours, and you were painfully aware of it, but it wasn’t like you could just ask for some time to rest.

That could wait. Your job was more important.

“General?” you knocked on the half open door and he raised his head to look at you before motioning you to enter the room.

“Y/N,” he said, “Close the door please. It’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Take a seat,” he said and you cleared your throat, then perched on the edge of the chair.

“I’ve heard you eliminated the threat and got rid of our target quite fast,” he said, “And we have the chip now.”

You nodded silently, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Well, that shows me you’re ready for the next step,” he said “No reason to beat around the bush, you’re getting a promotion.”

Pride burst through your system but you tried to control your expression to stop the grin threatening to pull at your lips.

“Thank you sir.”

“Here are the details for your next mission,” he said, handing you a file that was stamped as Top Secret and you flipped the page to find information about your next identity.

Alias: Shrike

“Shrike,” you murmured to yourself, turning the pages, “Like the bird?”

“Mm hm. I assume you’ve heard about the Accords issue?”

You looked up, “Only a little,” you said, “The first one was a disaster and the government had to drop it after The Blip due to the public’s reaction, resurrected people insisted that the superheroes were the ones who saved them, not the government. Then the government said they would go over the details and change it in a way that would benefit both the public and the superheroes, but I haven’t seen the new version.”

“There were some adjustments but to be honest with you, it’s the same deal. We can’t have superheroes running wild with no orders,” he said, “I need you on both fronts, one with terminating specific targets, and one with….well, you’ll see.”

You flipped the page and blinked a couple of times, your stomach dropping.

You were good, but you weren’t that good.

“You- you’re sending me after Captain America, sir?”

“Ah no,” he said, “Don’t worry. Wilson doesn’t have a past we can use against him, and trust me, we checked. The guy is an actual hero but we need a bad guy.”

You turned the page and shut your eyes for a moment.

Bucky Barnes.

Right. You should’ve known.

The government wanted and needed Captain America on their side, but Bucky Barnes could fall for all they cared.

“Sir I appreciate your trust in my abilities but not even an army could take down the Winter Soldier the last time—” you started but General shook his head.

“Y/N, you’re not going to kill him,” he said, “That’s the second front I was talking about. We need you to get close to him, to form a personal bond and gather intel we can use in the future.”

You gawked at him, “I’m sorry?”

“Barnes is the perfect candidate. He can help us with necessary information to prove to the public that superheroes need to answer to someone; us. Besides if it all goes bad, we can just say he was a threat. With that kind of past no one would think he was innocent to begin with.”

Your head was spinning. Scratch that, the whole room was spinning.

You were good at finding and terminating targets, not forming personal bonds or playing this

“When you say get close to him….” You trailed off, your voice way too weak and he smiled slightly.

“You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.”

That. That was your promotion.

Not an operations officer, not a handler, but a lover who also happened to kill people.

They were going to use you as a honey trap for him.

“Sir, I don’t think-“ you started, but he held up a hand.

“Before you say no,” he said, “Let me remind you that this will benefit your career greatly, and you will have your own team. Show us you can handle it, and the position you want will be within your reach, you have my word. You want to be a handler, don’t you?”

You dragged your fingernails on the file, deep in thought.

“Barnes is one of the many dangerous people we may need to stop one day, and the only way to do it is to keep him under control and learn everything he knows until we’re ready to take him in.”

“But if these new Accords don’t pass—“ you started but he shook his head.

“Even if they don’t, and that’s a big if,” he said, “He’s still a valuable asset to have. We all have to perform certain missions, Y/N. Even if we don’t particularly like them. You will thank me in the future, when your career flourishes.”

Your blinked a couple of times, a bitterness appearing in your mouth.

“Of course,” you managed to say, “You’re— you’re right sir. It’s a good plan. I accept the position.”

“Great!” he clapped his hands together, “We have a target for you for tomorrow night, there’s this gallery opening. He needs to be eliminated, I think you can handle that? Start planning how it will go with Barnes as well, we can’t lose any time.”

You pursed your lips together and closed the file, “Of course.”

“Congratulations.” he leaned in slightly, “Your dad would be so proud of you if he could see you now.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was getting bigger and bigger.

“I don’t need his approval,” you rasped out and walked to the door, but stopped when you heard him speak.

“Shrike,” he used your alias for the first time and you looked over your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I don’t have to remind you that this mission is top secret. If he figures out who you are, or what you’re up to…” he clicked his tongue, “Kill him.”

You paused for a moment, then tilted your head and smiled at him.

“As you wish, sir.” you managed to say, then walked out of his office as if someone was chasing you. You made your way straight to the bathroom and slammed the file on the marble counter, then pulled out the small picture sticking out from the corner. It was an old black and white picture of him with Steve Rogers, probably taken in the 40s, both of them smiling. 

When you lowered the picture to attach it back to the paper, your eyes caught the tiny print under his aliases.

Confirmed Kills: Exact number unknown (Credited with 100+ assassinations)

You were in way, way over your head now.

“Oh, fuck.”

                                  Chapter 2

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x11 thoughts

For an episode that ends with a journalist Ted trusts but has (understandably) recently lied to warning Ted that he’s publishing an article about his panic attacks, it was fitting that this episode seemed entirely about what all of these characters choose to tell each other. And after most of a season of television that Jason Sudeikis has described as the season in which the characters go into their little caves to deal with things on their own, it turns out they are finally able to tell each other quite a lot.

Which is good because, um, wow, a lot is going to happen in the season finale of this show!

Thoughts on the things people tell each other behind the cut!

Roy and Keeley. I absolutely loved the moment during their photoshoot in which they bring up a lot of complicated emotional things and are clearly gutted (“gutted”? Who am I? A GBBO contestant who forgot to turn the oven on?) by what they’ve heard. We already know that Keeley and Roy are great at the kinds of moments they have before the shoot begins, in which Roy builds Keeley up and tells her she’s fucking amazing. From nearly the beginning of their relationship, they’ve supported each other and been each other’s biggest fans. But their relationship has gone on long enough that they’ve progressed from tentative arguments about space and individual needs into really needing to figure out what they mean to each other and how big their feelings are and what that means in relation to everything else. Watching these two confess about the uncomfortable kiss with Nate, the unexpectedly long conversation with Phoebe’s teacher, and—most painfully—the revelation that Jamie still loves Keeley didn’t feel like watching two people who are about to break up. (Although I could see them potentially needing space from each other to get clarity.) It felt like watching two people realize just how much they’d lose if they lost each other, which is an understandably scary feeling even—or especially—when you’re deeply in love but not entirely sure what the future holds. Not entirely sure what you’re capable of when you’ve never felt serious about someone in quite this way, and are realizing you have to take intentional actions to choose that relationship every single day. I’m excited to learn whether Roy and Keeley decide they need to solidify their relationship more (not necessarily an engagement, but maybe moving in together or making sure they’re both comfortable referring to the other as partner and telling people they’re in a committed relationship) or if things go in a different direction for a while.

Sharon and Ted. I’ve had this feeling of “Wow, Ted is going to feel so intense about how honest he’s been with Sharon and is going to end up getting really attached and transfer a lot of emotions onto the connection they have and that is stressful no matter how beneficial it has been for him to finally get therapy!” for a while now. And Sharon’s departure really brought that out and it was indeed stressful. But the amount of growth that’s happened for both of these characters is really stunningly and beautifully conveyed in this episode. Ted is genuinely angry she left without saying goodbye, and he doesn’t bury it some place deep inside him where it will fester for the next thirty years. He expresses his anger. (I also noticed he sweared—mildly—in front of her again, which is really a big tell for how much he has let his carefully-constructed persona relax around her.) He reads her letter even though he said he wasn’t going to, and he’s moved. I don’t think Ted has the words for his connection to Sharon beyond “we had a breakthrough,” but Sharon gets it, and is able to firmly assert a professional boundary by articulating her side of that breakthrough as an experience that has made her a better therapist. And is still able to offer Ted a different kind of closure by suggesting they go out before her train leaves. No matter how you feel about a patient/football manager seeing their therapist/team psychologist colleague socially, I appreciated this story because IMO it didn’t cross big lines but instead was about one final moment in this arc in which both Ted and Sharon saw each other clearly and modeled what it is to give someone what they need and to expect honesty and communication from them. I liked that Ted ends up being the one saying goodbye. (The mustache in the exclamation points!) I like that whether or not Sharon returns in any capacity (Sarah Niles is so wonderful that I hope she does, but I’m not sure), the goodbye these characters forge for themselves here is neither abandonment nor a new, more complicated invitation. It’s the end of a meaningful era, and although the work of healing is the work of a lifetime, it’s very beautiful to have this milestone.

Ted and Rebecca. So, maybe it’s just me, but it kinda feels like these two have a few li’l life things to catch up on?! (HAHHHHHaSdafgsdasdf!) I really adored their interactions in this episode. I maintain that Biscuits With The Boss has been happening this whole time (even when Ted’s apartment was in shambles, there’s biscuit evidence, and I feel like we’ve been seeing the biscuit boxes in Rebecca’s office pretty regularly too), even if it might have been more of a drive-by biscuit drop-off/feelings avoidance ritual. It was really lovely to see Ted on more even footing in Rebecca’s office, joking around until she tells him to shut up, just like the old days. And GOSH—for their 1x9 interaction in Ted’s office to be paralleled in this episode and for Ted to explicitly make note of the parallel in a way Rebecca hears and sees and understands?! MY HEART. In both of Rebecca’s confessions, she is not bringing good news but it is good and meaningful that she chooses to share with Ted. In both situations, Ted takes the moment in stride and offers acceptance equivalent to the gravity of what she has to confess. And in both situations, he’s not some kind of otherworldly saint, able to accept Rebecca no matter what because he’s unaffected by what she shares. He is affected. When he tells her about Sam, you can see a variety of emotions on his face. Rebecca is upset and Ted is calm, and even if I might have liked for him to try to talk about the risk the affair poses to the power dynamics on the team or any number of factors, I also really liked that he just accepts where she is, and—most importantly—does not offer her advice beyond examining herself and taking her own advice. A massive part of being in a relationship with another person (a close relationship of any nature) is figuring out how to support that person without necessarily having to be happy about every single thing they do. It’s so important that Ted connects what she’s just told him about Sam back to what she told him last season about her plot with the club. These both feel like truth bombs to him, and he is at least safe enough to make that clear. These are both things that impact him, things that shape how he sees her and maybe even how he sees himself. He cares about her and is capable of taking in this information; he has room for it. But it’s not something he takes lightly, and neither does she. See you next year.

Tumblr user chainofclovers and the TV show Ted Lasso. My brain is going wild thinking about all the ways the next “truth bomb” conversation could go in 3x11 or whatever. Maybe they go full consistent parallel and Rebecca confesses something else, this time about her and Ted or some other big future thing that impacts him as much or more as the other confessions have. (The same but different.) Maybe the tables turn and Ted has something to confess to her. While the 1x9 conversation ended in an embrace and the 2x11 conversation ended with a bit more physical distance (understandable given the current state of their relationship and the nature of the discussion), the verbal ending of both conversations involved voices moving into a sexier lower register while zooming in to talk specifically about their connection to each other, so I have to assume there will be some consistencies in s3 even if the circumstances will be completely different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this and I obviously will go insane if I sustain this level of anticipatory energy until Fall 2022 but I have a feeling my brain and heart are going to try!

Sam and Rebecca. I know there’s been a lot of criticism about whether this show is being at all realistic about the power dynamics and inevitable professional issues this relationship would create. On some level, I agree; I like that pretty much everyone who knows about the affair has been kind so far, but you can be kind and still ask someone to contend with reality. But I also think that in nearly every plot point on this show, the narrative is driven by how people feel about their circumstances first and foremost. (It’s why the whiteboard in the coaching office and the football commentators tell us more about how the actual football season is going from a points perspective than anyone else.) This episode reminded me how few people know about Sam and Rebecca, and how much their time together so far has been time spent in bed. The private sphere. I thought this episode really expertly brought the public sphere into it, not—thank goodness—through a humiliating exposure or harsh judgment but through an opportunity for Sam that illustrates not only all his potential to do great things but how much Rebecca’s professional position and personal feelings are in conflict with that. Could stand in the way of that. I don’t have a strong gut feeling about where this will go, but I do think Sam’s face in his final scene of this episode is telling. He started the episode wanting to see Rebecca (his most recent text to her was about wanting to connect), and Edwin’s arrival from Ghana really exploded his sense of what is possible for his life. If he’d arrived home to Rebecca sitting on his stoop prior to meeting Edwin, he’d have been delighted. Now he’s conflicted, and whatever decision he makes, he has to reckon with the reality that he cannot have everything he wants. No matter what. And Rebecca—she has taken Ted’s advice and is attempting to be honest about the fact that she can’t control Sam’s decisions but hopes he doesn’t go, and even saying that much feels so inappropriate. And I’m not sure how much she realizes about the inappropriateness of the position she’s putting him in, although maybe she’s getting there considering she exits the scene very quickly. I’ve honestly loved Rebecca’s arc this season. I think it’s realistic that she got obsessed with the intimacy she thought she could find in her phone. I think it’s realistic that her professional and personal ambitions are inappropriately linked. (They certainly were for Rupert. It’s been years since she’s known anything different; even if she’s done some significant recovery work to move on from her abusive marriage and figure out her own priorities, she’s got a long way to go.) I know there are people who will read this interaction between Rebecca and Sam as a totally un-self-aware thing on the part of “the show” or “the writers” but what I saw is two people who enjoyed being in bed together and now have to deal with the reality that they’re in two different places in their lives and that one has great professional power over the other. If that wasn’t in the show, I wouldn’t be able to see it or feel so strongly about it.

Edwin and Sam. I really enjoyed all the complexities of this interaction. Edwin is promising a future for Sam that doesn’t quite exist yet, though he has the financial means to make it happen. He offers this by constructing for Sam a Nigerian—and Ghanaian—experience unlike anything he’s found in London. Sam is amazed that this experience is here, and Edwin’s response is to explain to him that the experience is not here. Not really. The experience in Africa. Sam has of course connected to the other Nigerian players on the team, but this is something else entirely. I’m really curious if Sam is going to end up feeling that what Edwin has to offer is real or not. That sense of home and connection? So real. And so right that he would want to experience that homecoming and would want to be part of building that experience for others. But at the end of the day, he went to a museum full of actors and a pop-up restaurant full of “friends,” and is that constructed authenticity as a stand-in for a real homecoming more or less real than the home he’s building in Richmond? (With other players who stand in solidarity with him, and with well-meaning white coaches who say dumb stuff sometimes, and an a probably-doomed love interest, and a feeling that he should put chicken instead of goat in the jollof, and the ability to stand out as an incredible player on a rising team.)

Nate and everyone. But also Nate and no one. Nate’s story is so painful and I’m so anxious for next week’s episode. For a long time I’ve felt that a lot of Nate’s loyalties are with Richmond, and a lot of his ambitions are around having given so much to this place without getting a lot back, and having a strong feeling that he’s the answer to Richmond’s future. But now I’m not so sure; his ambitions have transferred into asking everyone he knows (except Ted, of course), if they want to be “the boss.” But Nate is all tactics and no communication. When he wants to suggest a new play to Ted, he hasn’t yet learned to read Ted’s language to learn that Ted is eager to hear what he has to say. And while Ted has been really unfortunately distracted about Nate and dismissive of him this season, he clearly respects Nate’s approach to football and was appreciative of the play. Nate just can’t hear that. The suit is such a great metaphor of all the things Nate is in too much pain to be able to hear clearly. Everyone digs at him for wearing the suit Ted bought him (including Will, who’s got to get little cuts in where he can, because he’s got to be sick of the way Nate treats him), but when he gets fed up his solution isn’t to go out on his own and find more clothes he likes; he asks Keeley to help him. And then crosses a major line with her...and no matter how kind she was about it, she was clearly not okay. Everything is going to blow up, and I’m so curious as to whether Nate will end up aligning himself with Rupert in some way or if he’s going to end up screwed over by Rupert and in turn try to screw over his colleagues even worse than he’s already done. Or try desperately to make amends even though it could be too late for some. Either way, I’m fully prepared to feel devastated. (And there’s no way I’m giving up on this character. If he’s able to learn, I truly believe he could end up seeking forgiveness and forging a happier existence for himself. Someday. Like in season 3 or something.)

Ted and Trent. Trent deciding to reveal his source to Ted is a huge deal, and I’m torn between so many emotions about this exposé. I’m glad it’s a Trent Crimm piece and not an Ernie Loundes piece. I’m glad that Trent made the decision to warn Ted and let him know that Nate is his source. I fear—but also hope—that this exposure will set off a chain reaction of Ted learning about some of the things he’s missed while suffering through a really bad bout with his dad-grief and panic disorder. The things Ted doesn’t know would devastate him. I wonder if Ted will want to figure out a way to make Nate feel heard and reconcile with him, and I wonder how that will be complicated if/when he realizes Nate has severely bullied Will, gets more details on how he mistreated Colin, etc. I wonder if Rebecca, whom Nate called a “shrew” right before she announced his promotion, will be in the position of having to ask Ted to fire him, or overriding Ted and doing it herself. So many questions! I have a feeling it’ll go in some wild yet very human-scaled, emotionally-nuanced direction, and I’ll be like “Oh my GOD!” but also like “Oh, of course.”

This VERY SERIOUS AND EMOTIONAL REVIEW has a major flaw, which is that none of the above conversations include mention of the absolute love letter to N*SYNC. Ted passionately explains how things should go while dancing ridiculously! Will turns on the music and starts gyrating! Roy nods supportively! Beard shouts the choreography like the Broadway choreographer of teaching grown men who play football how to dance like a boy band. Everyone is so incredibly proud when they nail it. I love them.

I cannot believe next week is the end. For now. I’m kind of looking forward to letting everything settle during the hiatus, but I’ve really loved the ride.