#I kept meaning to erase it but I think it's been there too long for me to damn it to such a fate.

[haqiqxt]

sometimes a woman just needs to gather her thoughts before she walks back into a burning flame she once was rescued from. i should also preface, it’s taken her years to feel absolutely nothing. you say there’s a feeling you long for that you haven’t felt—am i meant to read your mind? what is it? love, longing, inspiration, or a challenge or none? because these are simply words that yes, are written by me { whoever or whatever me means to you } but sometimes the essence of a personal touch like hearing or seeing is what may revive what’s flatlined. you ask what do my eyes hide? i’ll leave that for the interpretation of others maybe even you— and my smile? she only appears sometimes, almost rare that when i do smile i’m aware i’m smiling and immediately my thoughts are back in action. and my odd days? perhaps they tug away at the weights on my shoulders, in between the corners of my room where no one can truly hear me regardless of how loud i am. what do my normal days hide too? solace and routines. boring yes but i fear that i no longer can do uncertainty with anything anymore.

i’m talking in metaphors, which honestly i’ve come to hate because so much can be misconstrued in words—especially ours. but i still write all the time. i did stop for a while, but one day i remembered that muse i would write about isn’t the only muse to exist. maybe there are other forms of art in life that i could write about that aren’t a literal, physical, breathing human man whom i can no longer express myself to. though may not be as deep, but sometimes they do deserve a second thought. just like you.

we’re just going in circles, but why does this still make me giggle? why am i choosing to let you consume me again? every time i think about the after of it all and how much i literally felt my heart physically fall out of my chest and watched it still beat on the floor. how much i tried to erase you from everything, but all i kept getting were signs, one after another. part of me believed i was never going to escape it, ever. and so i became a bystander in my own life. i had no energy to hold myself anymore. to walk through life as though love— so genuine, and endless, yet soft, and complex, oddly transformative, yet sacred and vulnerable, persistent till now, unpredictable, and beautiful love—was right here and now it’s gone. as if i let you, let us, excuse ourselves. but then i remember—we’re juxtaposed, or so we were told to be. ironic as such, why you may ask? in every other aspect, we’re the most likely the first to call out injustice. this is injustice. this is madness. it’s okay to say you miss this, my dear. i do too. sometimes, when i watch movies, or go for a drive, or even sit at dinner, i remember the feeling. and sometimes, i’ll pause—close my eyes—to really feel the presence that my soul craves, that deep ache for something i can never quite touch. no matter how much i’ve sliced and diced myself, at this point, i feel like i have no limbs. i tried so hard to carve you out, but in doing so, i took myself with it. it’s something about the way we were, something so real, even if we can never be again. a haunting, almost, that lingers in the quiet spaces between my thoughts, reminding me that even in the absence of us, we are still somehow connected.

anyways, what is this all for — i really don’t know. but there’s a been a lot of times where i’ve read your words and thought to myself if only you knew.

[athenaholmesartistsguild]

Some sketches I did in between designing tarot cards!

Pre-Yakuza 0 Kazumaji has always been my favorite AU so I do some little doodles occasionally. These are just a few recent ones that I ended up liking enough to post.

Trying to do a quick version of Kiryu's tattoo is so freaking difficult. I should've probably just drawn a little blobby like I do with Majima's but that didn't occur to me while I was drawing it :')

[sleepyangelkami]

AN ANGEL d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 4.5K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - You're nervous to lose your virginity, Dean shows you everything that you've been missing out on.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!dean, sub!reader, nervous/shy!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, p!v, teasing, loss of virginity, fingering, hickeys (r.recieving), size kink, praise kink, dean is experienced, reader is inexperienced, (1) thigh slap, big dick!dean, boob fondling, boob sucking, reader is smaller than dean, illusions to past masturbation, reader blushes, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

dean liked having you sat in his lap.

this wasn't the first time, your legs stretched around his waist while your hands scrunched idly at the black shirt he'd been wearing, your lips against his own. making out with you had to be possibly the best thing he'd ever done. it was like getting sent to heaven and back, between each breath he damned the gods that disallowed him to press his lips against yours for forever.

but you were new to all this.

he had to be gentle.

dean was the first real relationship you'd ever had. and if he was being honest, you were sort of the first real relationship he'd ever had too.

he used to hop from girl to girl, bed to bed and not think twice about it. you were the absolute opposite. you were the type of girl that didn't speak unless spoken to, you kept your head down and got through everything without so much as letting your imagination wander with what it would feel like to be with a man.

then you met him.

his hands were pinching at the fat of your thighs, he found it hard to keep his hands to himself when you were like this. between kisses, he could hear the shakiness in your breaths, it drove him unbelievably mad.

you felt almost sorry for dean, knowing it'd taken this long to get comfortable enough to even make out with the man. you knew his history and how he wouldn't go longer than a week without someone in his bed. now he'd went more than three months with you like this, aching for more.

and it wasn't like you didn't want more, believe me, you'd been aching just as horribly.

you were just... scared?

deans hands moved harshly against your skin, right hand coming down to gently slap your thigh before gripping it once again. the feeling prompted a low whimper to leave your lips.

dean almost groaned. he could get used to hearing noises like those.

when the man pulled away from your lips, heavy breaths still leaving his own, you swore you could have whimpered again just from the loss of contact.

he looked down at you, eyes all blown wide, lips slick and swollen, it was a sight he hoped was never erased from his memory. he wanted to remember this forever. "y'so needy." he had that cocky grin on his lips, cocking his head to the side as he viewed you as a whole, all his, right in his lap for the taking.

you felt your cheeks get hot at the sentence, eyes immediately darting anywhere other than his face. "don' be mean." was the mumble you let out, eyes adverting and voice lowering. you weren't able to talk to him, not when he got like this, all 'bigger' than you, it made you feel small, it made you feel wet.

"'m not, 'm not." he spoke with a low chuckle, one of his hands raising to meet your face, you felt the padding of his thumb wipe across your hot cheeks, he could tell you were nervous. then again, you were always so nervous. "i think it's cute."

again, your face got increasingly hotter but dean didn't leave you any room for words, dipping his head so his lips could meet your neck.

there was something so surreal about being like this, your hands gripping at his shirt, top lip clamped down on your bottom as he kissed against the skin of your neck.

again, this wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. makeouts and hickey-leaving was getting more and more natural in your relationship, common, even.

he'd come home from his hunts with sam and all he'd want was you either below or on top of him, his lips against anything they could reach.

you felt his lips part, sucking against your neck as one hand ran up your back, the other cupping the back of your hair. once he sucked, his tongue would smooth over the skin, pleasure to ease the pain. and he'd go again, gradually moving to different places on your neck. marking you.

your own lips were strewn shut, you were hoping and praying on every star that you didn't let a noise slip from you. you were too nervous, too embarrassed but the whole point of this was to feel good, wasn't it? so why did you feel so embarrassed to show him how good it felt?

your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling suddenly overwhelming.

you didn't register the move of your hips until his lips left your neck and his hands clamped down on your waist, low grunt leaving his mouth.

you stared at him with those big eyes and he swore he was gone. "y'can't do that, sweetheart." despite his words, his tone was gentle. "can't start something if you don't want to finish it."

he knew how inexperienced you were, he thought you wanted to hold off on losing your virginity which is why he'd never made such a move but by the way you were looking at him now, he swore you wanted nothing more than for him to take you.

and he'd gladly do so upon your command.

"i do..." you uttered. ".. want to." the words made your insides twinge, made your nose scrunch and your lips purse.

you were too nervous, shaking like a leaf on top of him. even so, with so much anxiety bottled into a human, dean made no movements of caution.

you sort of liked that dean wasn't as awkward or nervous as you were. dean was confident, that much was for sure. but being so confident also gave him this openness, seeping comfort into your veins as his large, warm hands trailed up and down your thighs.

"yeah?" his voice was breathy and his smile had left his features. he didn't need to be so teasing now, he knew you would simply burst of shyness. and he didn't want you in a position of uncertainty. "what d'you want?"

he wasn't trying to tease you, though he knew his fingers that began to dance against your skin were doing nothing to calm your nerves.

he just needed to hear you say it.

you planted your face into his chest with an incoherent mumble, cheeks alight as flames.

dean could have laughed at you but he didn't want you thinking you'd done something wrong. on the contrary, he found it downright adorable how shy you'd been getting. but you couldn't help it, this was such an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in your stomach.

"can't hear you, sweetheart." his head came down to sit atop yours, his voice a gentle whisper. "i need you to tell me what you want, okay?" his free hand tipped your chin upwards to look at him, those pretty green eyes held so much sincerity. "use your words f'me, baby."

words felt stuck in your throat, you couldn't seem to get them out. but dean didn't want to let this get away from him, he steadied your chin between his fingers.

"i want..." your voice was all breathy, all needy. it had dean reeling. "i want you to touch me."

and as the words passed your lips, you swear all the air was knocked from your lungs. listening to yourself talk had made your head feel fuzzy. before dean, you couldn't have even imagined such words leaving your lips.

dean was struggling to compose himself but nonetheless, he did. his lips quirked into this proud yet sly smirk as his fingers ran up and down your thighs. "where, angel? here?" he practically mocked, fingers against your knee.

at this point, dean had never seen an angel, he didn't believe in them. but he was sure that if angels did exist, you had to be one of them.

you could have corrected him verbally, told him to stop teasing or even scolded him for mocking you while you were all worked up like this. but instead, you chose to grasp his bigger hand in your own and trail it towards your core.

as your hand cupped his own, he could feel them shake, he almost cooed at you but he didn't want to make you more nervous than you already were.

but when his hand finally reached your clothed core, he couldn't help but let out a groan.

it didn't take longer than a second for dean to have you flipped over with your back against the mattress of the bed. a noise left your lips as he towered over you, that infamous smirk etched to his lips.

but a type of seriousness washed over him. "are you sure you want this?"

you knew he wasn't asking you to tease you or make you wait, he was being sincere and you couldn't have been more sincere back by bucking your hips with a low whine of the word, "yes." quickly followed by a "please."

"so needy." he mumbled back, lips moving to your neck while his fingers fumbled at the cotton material of your baby blue sleep shorts. he hooked his fingers around the waistband and tore it off skilfully.

he supposed his experience was paying off.

you didn't have any time to counter what he'd said, too focused on the feeling building in your stomach. much of it was worry, anxiety even but the majority of it was this foreign, amazing feeling.

"fuck." his ring clad fingers circled against your panties. you were suddenly hyper aware of how worked up you'd gotten while making out with him, a blush creeping in on your face as you turned away from him.

dean all but tutted, dragging your face back.

"don't get shy on me now, sweetheart. This wet for me, the least you can do is look at me." he had that empowering stare that told you he was in charge here, it had you shrinking further into the mattress.

but dean wasn't demanding, sure he was dominating but he didn't make you uncomfortable. truthfully, you'd been rather scared of getting this far with anybody but you were sure that if there was anybody you wanted it to be with, it was him.

his hands toyed at waistbands of your panties. "this okay?" his eyes were glued to your face, trying to watch every way your face contorted, making sure you were okay.

believe it or not, there was a lot one could tell from just looking at someone.

you nodded your head briskly, darkened and bitten lips parted slightly, covered in the slick left behind from your tongue. your cheeks had turned a darkened colour too, blush spreading across your face.

there was something so surreal about looking at you like this, knowing nobody else ever had. he pulled the panties down your legs, watching you steadily with his own lips parting open. his eyes moved from yours to trail down your body, landing on your sopping core. he couldn't help but breathe in a breath.

"you're so pretty, angel." he moved his hand upwards again, closed fingers gently toying with your clit, which earned a soft gasp from you. his lips quirked as he brought his hand away, using the other to slip off his ring. he took your wrist, holding it up gently. "take care of this for me, yeah?" you nodded as he slipped the ring onto your thumb, seeing as your other fingers wouldn't fit it. "good girl." he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

he was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were a virgin.

now, dean wasn't necessarily put off by the fact that you were a virgin. dean couldn't have cared less what you were. but he needed to make sure he was gentle, more so than any other time.

because he was the first, the one you'd remember forever.

though, he intended to be your very last, too.

his fingers trailed across your pretty tank top, down to your hips and finally edging between your legs. he peppered kisses against your face and down across your jaw, finally landing on your neck, fingers pushing your legs apart with ease.

as shy as you were, you didn't hide from him, you allowed him to part your legs, his hand was against your inner thigh, softly soothing up and down against your skin.

but he had to make sure, before he touched you. "sure this is okay? not having second thoughts?"

of course dean wanted to but he only wanted to if you wanted to. but you nodded anyway, swallowing though your mouth was dry anyway. "'m just nervous." you admitted softly.

it was no secret to dean that you were a nervous creature already. he knew this was all new to you but he didn't want you to feel shy around him. "you don't need to be." he pressed a kiss against the supple of your cheek, hand moving further as you let out a shaky breath. "not with me." as the whisper left his mouth, his hand came up to touch your hot core.

the noise that left your mouth should have embarrassed you but right now, you couldn't think of anything other than the feeling of his hand right where you needed him.

he collected your wetness onto his fingers, spreading it up and down your folds, two fingers parting from the rest as he gently eased them into your hole.

heavy breaths suddenly left you, chest rising and falling while dean's face was practically hidden in your neck, peppering kisses, sucking and licking against the soft skin while his fingers settled inside of you.

he gave you hardly any time to adjust to the feeling, pulling them out and then thrusting them right back into you. "you're so warm, sweetheart." he mumbled in slight awe. suddenly, the image took over his mind, the image of him inside of you. he couldn't seem to wipe it away.

he knew that giving yourself to him even just like this was a lot for you, he didn't want to push you any further than he already had tonight.

however, the image still tainted his memory.

as the speed of his fingers increased, so did the volume of your noises.

a sticky, wet sound bounced from wall to wall, causing your cheeks to warm incredibly further. you flushed, your own hand coming up to cover your mouth, suddenly aware of how loud you'd been.

a coo left his lips, free hand coming to drag your wrist away from your mouth. "wanna hear every noise you can make, angel."

and his words alone made you whimper.

the palm of his hand bounced against your clit with every thrust of his hand, emitting these noises from you that you'd never been able to draw from yourself.

"y'sound so pretty, you know that, baby?" you made a noise to show you were listening, though all it told dean was that you felt good. "look so pretty too. so beautiful. all mine."

dean couldn't keep his hands to himself.

his free hand dragged against your skin, pushing at it as if trying to get closer to you in any way possible.

against his fingers formed a creamy ring. he looked down at his digits sliding in and out of you, wetness surrounding you both, keeping you together by a wet string.

he let his thoughts wander.

as evil as it was, he simply couldn't think of anything else, he imagined it was his dick sliding in and out of your hot, wet hole, the noises you'd make would be so much louder, you'd be so much fuller.

then he was suddenly aware of your experience once again.

you were tight, incredibly tight which only made him scissor his fingers. if you were going to take his dick, he needed to stretch you out first.

"dean!" you spluttered out as he scissored his fingers inside of you. "c-cant."

your hips bucked backwards, as if you were trying to tell yourself to stop, but it felt too good to stop.

and dean knew your body well, more than you knew it apparently for he only tutted, holding your wrist in his free hand. "you can take it baby, there you go." and he must have known what was happening because your insides were turning to mush.

you'd orgasmed by yourself before but this? this was true bliss.

he held your waist down to the mattress as your body squirmed, head falling back into the pillows as his name fell on your lips, moans and whines blissfully leaving your slick lips.

"good girl." he mumbled, pressing kisses anywhere his lips could reach. "you're so good, there you go. atta girl."

his words of praise fell on your lips, only making you squirm impossibly more. but nonetheless, he kept up his pace, fingers moving to help you ride out your high.

dean swore he'd never seen something so beautiful.

he watched in awe, staring at the way your face scrunched up, pretty lips parted and your eyes screwed closed, though he could only imagine you were seeing stars behind your lids, not that he was being cocky or anything.

the sight was pure bliss, angelic, even.

he swore he'd been to heaven and back, just watching your face contort.

and he'd watch it forever, if he could.

he was suddenly aware of how tight his jeans felt.

"i need to fuck you." he was mumbling with a slight neediness in his tone, kissing up and down your throat, his hand only coming to a halt when your own practically pushed it away, the overstimulation becoming too much. "can i?" a beat passed. "please?"

his face rose to meet yours and you stared at him, all blissed out. you swore that his fingers were the most skilled, pleasurable feeling you'd ever felt, much better than to how it felt when you'd done it by yourself. your lips were glossed over, heavy pants leaving your chest. huge eyes and flushed cheeks.

almost a whine of the phrase, "uh-huh." passed your lips.

and it was enough for him.

his lips crashed into your own, kissing you ever so softly, though there was passion hidden somewhere between your heavy breaths.

needy hands pawed at the end of his black shirt, his own hands reached down to cup yours, helping you tear it off of his body. his amulet dangled downwards, just below your face and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that your top was still on. he supposed he'd been too focused on making you feel good to realise.

his hands reached the end of your own top, helping you push it over your head.

no words left his lips but they parted, tongue passing over the bottom one as he stared.

your pink bra was so pretty on you he almost had to think to decide whether or not he wanted to keep it on. but he decided with the latter, hands unhooking your bra skillfully, as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

he hardly got to see your boobs, for his hands cupped them as soon as they were let out of the bra. he cursed out a grunt under his breath, one hand leaving your breast so his mouth could replace it.

against the mattress, your back arched, stomach against his own while you bit back the pretty whimpers which he yearned to hear. his mouth worked against you, rolling his tongue back and forth, practically flicking your nipple in his mouth making you unable to contain the sounds you so desperately tried to keep back.

"d―dean!" you spluttered, eyes fluttering shut. his own eyes looked up at you, watching your face contort once again.

he had to have you.

as his face left your chest, a string of spit connected your boobs to his lips.

he wiped it away, though nothing could wipe away that smut smirk he held. nonetheless, he helped himself to shimmying out of his jeans, taking his boxers off with it.

it wasn't until he took everything off that reality set in. you stared, eyes blown wide, he was, well... big. and it was sort of hard not to get nervous, even with the fact that his fingers had just been stuffed inside of you, you weren't so sure it was going to fit.

"you okay?" he leaned down, towering over you. he realised your eyes hadn't moved from his dick, pulling your chin up with his two fingers. "are you sure you want this?"

you nodded your head, thoughts a mere muddle of clouds. "i just... 'm nervous." you admitted, feeling your stomach fill with this fuzzy feeling that you only got when you talked to dean.

"you don't have to be nervous, sweetheart, not with me, okay?" the palm of his hand rested on your face. "do you want this?"

"yes." you answered without a beat.

"promise?" you could have melted right then and there. dean winchester was of many things but above all, he was gentle.

"promise." you mumbled, finding yourself relaxing just at the mere sound of his voice. his hand trailed up to find your own, fingers interlocking yours. his free hand moved down to his dick, pressing it in his hand.

you watched with curiosity yet also nervousness. you'd never seen this done in real life, so the shyness was creeping in as you watched him move his hand up and down his shaft, dragging it towards your wet hole. instantly, a sound left your lips, blush instantly creeping in as your eyes snapped up to him. he only smiled gently at you, finding your shyness rather adorable.

the head of his dick slowly pushed inside of you and that alone had you feeling awfully stretched. he wasn't just long, he was thick too meaning he stretched you out completely. "okay?" you nodded at the sound of his question, the feeling of his lips on your cheek moments after. "'s gonna hurt a little, alright?"

you nodded your head, eyes shutting closed as you braced yourself.

you weren't an idiot either, you knew first times were supposed to hurt but luckily for you, you had dean right there, holding one of your hands tight in his own, soft whispers and kisses against your skin.

what more could you really ask for.

he slowly eased himself inside of you, worried he was hurting you. then again, there wasn't really any other way to get inside without hurting you. he watched as your face contorted, a gentle whimper leaving your lips but he knew it wasn't one of pleasure, more of pain, actually.

he mumbled gentle apologies and left a trail of them in kisses from your neck to your cheeks.

finally, he was in completely and he couldn't help the string of curses that he mumbled under his breath.

dean stayed as still as he could. worry set in, he didn't want to hurt you, not when you'd been so nervous in the first place. he'd been with many girls but you were a tight fit around him, swallowing his dick whole. he couldn't help but almost coo at the way your hole clenched around him.

he felt your hips shift, and he knew you were ready. "can i―fuck, sweetheart, can i move?"

again, you nodded with a subtle whine that told him in other words, yes, he absolutely could move. and that was exactly what he did.

he slowly pulled his dick out from inside you then suddenly slammed his hips back in, his dick hitting the spot deep inside your walls. instantly, he was met with a mewl.

"shit." he uttered, wanting to draw as many sounds like that out of you as he could. his two hands now rested on yours tightening his grip as he placed them over your head so he could gain better access. "oh, fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking pretty."

it seemed as though dean had the mouth similar to a sailor when put in a position like this.

but he couldn't help it, you were staring at him with those doe eyes, pretty noises falling from you. his hips moved with ease, slamming in and out of you, it didn't take him long to pick up the pace either.

your legs lifted to surround his waist, moans leaving the two of you as his hips slammed inside of you.

"shit, you're so good for me." he was a mumbling mess, he meant every word of what he said, though he wasn't too sure what was leaving his lips as of now. "oh, my sweet girl, thaaat's it."

he tipped his head forward, connecting his forehead to your own. your whimpers and whines were swallowed by a kiss, gentle yet so full of neediness, it was exactly what you wanted.

"feels..." you mumbled once your lips had parted, though you were sort of dazed, not all the way there. "feels so good."

"good girl, 's it, take it all." you felt his hand suddenly trail down, fingers soft against your clit while his dick still hot between your gummy walls. "'s okay, you're okay."

you shook your head, swallowing thickly as your hips bucked. "'s―'s too much!" you panted out, moans leaving you as if you couldn't keep them inside.

"you can take it, baby, know you can." but he could tell by the way your face twisted again, you were close.

and so was he.

"you gonna let go f'me? huh?"

at this point, your eyes had fluttered shut and you lips were parted as you nodded, brows strewn together. "gonna... 'm gonna cum, dean."

"that's my girl." he answered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "cum all over my dick f'me, sweetheart."

you supposed you were more obedient than you thought.

dean watched as you squirmed and moaned, eyes screwed shut as you finally let go around him. he could feel your gummy walls squeezing him tighter, a ring of slick had formed at the base of his dick. the mere sight, his dick still stuffed inside your cunt and you, cumming all over him.

well, it was enough to have any man weak.

which was why he'd finished so quickly, too.

after all, he'd been holding on since you were sat on his lap.

and that one feeling, cumming in your wet, hot walls and watching you with that pretty, stricken and worn out face as you came on him too... he swore he had really been to heaven and back.

when you both rode out your highs, he laid himself on the bed next to you, watching as you reached your hand up, playing with his silver ring that sat on your thumb.

he swore he was staring at an angel.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

[dcxdpdabbles]

For Angel Brat, could we have some more focus on Bruce and Danny? Maybe Dick and Danny as well?

Bruce looks over to where Danny and Dick are each filling up their frozen yogurt cups. Dick's, is a vanilla and chocolate mix topped with various candies.

It seemed he had taken the open bar toppings as a personal challenge to drop a scoop of everything laid out into his container. Honestly, Bruce sometimes wondered if all of Dick's spontaneous flips were just a means to stay in shape, so he could keep eating the way he did.

Danny, on the other hand, had chocolate topped with only peanuts. His blue eyes- the only difference between him and Damian physically wise- kept wandering over longingly to offered sweeties but he was on a strict diet for his health.

Bruce can't believe that for all they have been searching for ways to keep Danny; they had neglected developing research for his illnesses. It felt a bitter taste in his mouth that they still could not find a cure for his boy.

Bruce Wayne was able to travel through time but make sure his son could run long periods without his heart or his lungs breaking down? Turns out he truly is just a mortal, and that was one of the worst things to realize when his son confidently bragged about being able to do two entire laps of their yard without nearly passing out.

He mentally did some calculations before stepping closer and touching Danny's shoulder. "I think you can have some chocolate chips."

His boy's face brightened in joy before he rushed to the counter, scooping the chocolate goods into his yogurt. It's another thing he noticed about Danny.

Unlike Damian, his youngest didn't bother hiding his emotions. He wore them like a badge of honor, letting them bleed across his face as quickly as he allowed sunlight to rest on them.

Bruce isn't sure if this is due to their different personalities- like the night and day of those two- or if it was because Danny had gotten out of the League when he did. Damian had broken him out to prevent him from being killed for his execution, but Bruce could not figure out where Danny had grown up.

His son's phrases and slight accent indicated midwestern. Bruce had no idea where, and every time he tried searching for him, the only thing that popped up was the already small rumors. Was this an effect of the timeline resetting? But why were there some posts and data on him left behind if it was?

It gave Bruce a headache; even Wally had no idea what was causing it. Wally, having been trapped in the Speed Force for so long, was the expert on it. Bruce shuddered to think of the alternatives if he couldn't figure out what was happening.

Bart had assured everyone that Danny was officially an anchor to their timeline, but if Wally's grim warnings that time was slowly erasing him- thus the lack of proof of childhood- then nothing they could do would save their son.

The worst part was not knowing if he would even be able to properly mourn him. Would Daniel Wayne vanish one day if no one remembered he was supposed to be there?

"Dick, I'm taking a pottery class. I'm going to make you something for your desk." Danny says, snapping Bruce out of his dark thoughts. Then he realizes he was moving on auto-polite, and the cashier was handing back his change.

He takes it with an empty smile turning to his children as Dick beams down at the youngest. "I can't wait to see it, Danny! I bet it will be the best one in class."

"I'll be the only one in the class," Danny tells him sheepishly, but a hint of sadness leaks into his voice. "I'm too sick to go to the center. Dad hired me a private teacher to come to the manor instead."

Bruce's heart squeezes painfully, and one quick glance at Dick's face lets him know his son feels the same way. Of course, nothing sows on his eldest face, but Bruce has known Dick for so long he can tell by the slight tightening around his eyes and the way the pain is tucked in his eyes.

Before he can think better of it, Bruce hears himself say, "I've always been interested in pottery. I'll see if the instructor wouldn't mind a second student."

"Really?" Danny's eyes are practically shining , which prompts Bruce to smile and shrug a shoulder.

"Yes, in fact I'm sure all of your siblings would love to take a class or two. Why don't you send a message in the group chat to see if they like to sign up?" He makes a motion that has Dick pulling out his phone to send in a different group titled "Keep our Angel."

His phone dings just a few seconds before Danny's, which the more petite boy takes as his own message coming through. Bruce never the less checks it anyway, swiping over to Dick's to read what he wrote

Dick: You are all taking a pottery class this Saturday. No excuse. Danny wants us there. I will hurt you if you miss.

His lack of emojis is bone-chilling. Bruce highly doubts any of his children will miss the event. And just as he predicted, Danny's smile grows wider when more dings can be heard coming from his phone.

"Everyone can make it!" He cheers, scrolling through the messages, looking like the world had just been promised to him. "This is going to be so much fun! Do you think the teacher won't mind?"

"I'm sure she will be happy for the raise." And if she wasn't, Bruce would quickly find someone who would. Money, to him, was never an issue.

Danny grins so brightly that Bruce wonders if he should invest in some sunglasses, but his heart does soar. Even if Dick has to reach out to adjust Danny's heart pump wires after they get stuck on the chair.

Effortlessly, Dick moves the attention away from the machine with a simple question. "Besides my gift, what else are you hoping to make Danny?"

"I'm going to make a vase for Bernard. Damian will help me buy him flowers and ask him out." Danny's words are accompanied by a brilliant blush, but he seems almost proud of his newfound courage to ask a boy three years his senior.

Did Bruce just get shot? He feels like he's been shot.

Dick's little spoon crumbles in his hold as his very famous and dangerous rage bleeds into his blue eyes. "Wow. That's so brave of you. By the way, where does Bernard live again?"

Bruce will have to postpone his deep dive into finding out where Danny was raised because if he takes his attention off of Dick for even a second, his eldest will kill that boy.

[heathermason6060]

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings

Warnings: serial killer daryl, rough smut, inconsiderate smut, NO noncon, stalking, stealing, mentions of killing

Summary: Daryl can't decide if he wants to kill you, or fuck you. Switches between Daryl's and Readers POV.

Notes: SO SORRY ITS LONG This was really fun but really challenging to write, I tried to keep him as in character as possible, but that's hard when making him a serial killer lol! I'm making this a two pt, with the reader finding out in the next part.

Some days Daryl thought his luck might run out. He'd been lucky for too long. As far as he knew, no one suspected a thing. Every time he'd go out “hunting”, no matter how long he was gone for, he'd always managed to bring back something. Deer, rabbits, squirrels when prey was scarce. 

It was easier now that the world had ended to keep it a secret. No threat of cops catching on, no more cameras on every street corner, no need to try to erase every possible trace.

The only thing he found to prove difficult had been finding a place to keep his trophies. He didn't really have a preference, hair, a tooth, or a piece of clothing, it was something he didn't understand the meaning of but something he did each time. He kept it in his room in the vent above his bed, behind a few boxes of books. The week prior he took it down to put the wedding ring of a man who tried attacking Rick out on their supply run, he’d had to restrain himself and keep the stabbing to a minimum because of Rick's presence. 

He found himself growing uncomfortably interested in you. A revelation that he really, really didn't like. You were off limits, you were one of Rick's closest friends, you'd been there way too long. And you clearly hadn't done anything deserving of the things he daydreamed about doing to you, unlike the victims he’d killed before.

The more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they came back. His hands around your throat, the way your eyes would tear up as you struggled against him and the fact someone you trusted so much was the one ending your life. 

His eyes followed you over the flames of the campfire as you took your plates and went inside. Aaron had hosted a little get together in his yard in Alexandria, cooking dinner for everyone in celebration of the newest addition to the town. Some nobody he found out there on their own, who jumped at the idea of joining a large group of people. 

If Daryl had to kill you, he’d keep a lock of your hair. 

He couldn't stop staring at it as you went inside. His mind flooded with flashes of pictures of it, his hand in it, stroking your soft locks before grabbing a fistful and putting a knife to your throat. The way you'd squeal and beg, squirm against him as he presses the edge firmer into your skin. 

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away after you disappeared in the house you shared with Maggie and a few others. 

It was like you were practically begging him to follow you. 

Five different times that week you'd gone out on your own to ‘clear your head’, whatever the hell that meant. 

First time he heard Glenn mention to someone that you'd just gone out beyond the walls, he wanted to follow you. The idea was far too tempting. But he didn't, he knew damn well he couldn't trust himself with you all alone, no one to hear you scream. 

The fantasies he had begun to form disgusted him. He didn't just go out and kill any random human he felt like, he had to have some sort of rules or else things would get out of hand real fast. If he were to get caught, it needed to be someone Rick wouldn't think twice about him killing. Some raider, or any kind of piece of shit who'd be a threat to their group. He needed to have a fallback, worst case scenario one of Alexandria caught him. 

Second rule, none of his people. Ever. His morals were questionable, if he had it his way he'd go out and hunt down any human he came across outside those walls.

But never his people. In a hypocritical way he did care about them, in the same way that any normal sane human being would care about their family. He could never even dream about hurting any of them, he’d rather die. But they had to earn that place in his heart. 

It was a wonder you hadn't been killed by anyone else yet. The way you walked through the woods with your light pink sweater, leaving tracks in the leaves that a blind man could follow, and that fucking humming. He could easily track you with his eyes closed for miles with the way you kept humming. 

You'd gone into an old shack in the backyard of an abandoned trailer.

A part of him felt angry then, how were you so stupid? If it had been someone else following you, and not Daryl, who knows what they'd do to you? And you'd have no idea until it was too late. 

He paused at the thought. If he wasn't careful, that's exactly what would happen. 

He followed you home about half a mile behind the entire time. When you were at the road that led to the gates he turned back, deciding it was the perfect time to go hunting. 

The crossbow on his back weighed heavier than it normally did as he slunk down into the underbrush at the forest's edge. He hadn't decided on what animal yet, but the frustration and confusion alone caused by you made it pretty easy to guess. 

He wiped the blood from the molar before he tucked it in the box in his vent, and decided to pay Maggie and Glenn a visit.

The house was completely empty, so he let his curiosity get the better of him.

Your room was pretty. 

Your bed, a whopping full size mattress, made his pull out look like a military cot. You had an array of paintings on your walls, he remembered some of them. As soon as you got your own room in Alexandria you went out on runs with Glenn and Maggie just so you could decorate it. 

His eyes went from painting to painting, then to your dresser. You kept it unexpectedly neat for someone who behaved so sloppily in the woods. Your journal, a small glass box you kept your sentimental jewelry in, a few makeup products. What drew his attention was the jewelry box, he could see the pair of pearl earrings you used to constantly wear. You never took them out back then, not even to sleep. 

Orange bled into a dark purple against his face and he blinked, coming back to himself in front of your bedroom window. A strange confusion twisted in his gut when he realized he'd just been standing there, staring out your window for so long the sun had set.

You weren't stupid, or blind. 

You'd have to be a fool to not notice the way Daryl had been taking interest in you. 

There'd been several times in Alexandria where you'd be busy doing something, turn around and see him standing off in the distance, staring at you like fuckin’ Michael Myers. 

If you'd go on runs and he came with you, you'd often glance at him to see him already looking. He'd always look away, pull out a cigarette and act like he wasn't just burning holes in the back of your head. 

You'd come to the obvious conclusion that he had a crush on you. 

What else could it be? You'd always thought he was really hot, men like that were hard to come by. Quiet, observant, strong as hell, he’d do anything for the people he loved and he wasn't an annoying pervert who'd suddenly turn into an asshole if you rejected him. Not that you'd ever reject him. 

Each time you caught him staring your heart would race and you'd try to give a friendly smile, but apparently he was too shy for that. Which sucked, because of all the men you could have the hots for, Daryl was the most unapproachable and intimidating. 

“Hey, have you guys seen an earring laying around anywhere?” You asked at dinner, glancing around the table. Carol had invited the inner group over for dinner, she'd made pasta and cookies. 

You could never get enough of Carol's cookies. 

“What's it look like?” Maggie asked beside Glenn, the two of them looking at you thoughtfully from across the table. 

“Just a pearl earring. The one's I always used to wear.” You took a sip of your sweet tea, looking at the other faces to see if any of them had a split second look of recognition. 

“Not that I can remember.” Glenn cleared his throat and shook his head after swallowing a heavy mouthful of alfredo pasta. 

“I'll keep an eye out for it.” Rick tipped his head to you, nodding slightly before continuing eating. You smiled in return, knowing if anyone was likely to find it, it’d be him. 

He'd grown very fond of you recently, the image of you had shifted in his head from another person he was responsible for, to a dear friend he could trust with his life. Mostly due to the way you were with Carl, always doing your best to be a figure of comfort to him. Not as close as he'd grown to Michonne, but more of a young aunt who takes too much interest in art and jewelry.

“I haven't seen you wear those in a while.” Carl spoke up. 

You sighed when no one had any leads. “Yeah, I know. Just been worried about losing them, they're pretty important.” You took the last bite of your cookie, dusting your hands together before speaking again. “It's really weird, they were both in my jewelry box last time I checked, but this morning there was only one.” 

“You think someone stole one?” Carol's voice held a tight tone of suspicion, her eyes narrowing so slightly you could've missed it if you blinked. 

“No, I mean, no one goes in our house besides you all. And I know none of you care about a single earring.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek in deep thought. 

You felt that familiar sensation of warmth on your cheek, like someone had a hot iron near you. 

You turned your head to your left, met with Daryl's eyes from his spot at the end of the other side of the table. 

To your surprise he didn't look away like he usually did. He kept his gaze steady, his elbows propped on the table and his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. 

You didn't feel butterflies like usual, and your cheeks burned for a different reason. For the first time you were the one to look away. 

Rick had put together a group to scout out further into town for more resources. The usual suspects, Aaron, Sasha, Rosita, Abraham, Daryl and of course, you.

He hadn't made up his mind on if he was glad or not. He'd been stupid, feeding the sparks of his mild obsession, and that pretty little pearl earring he kept in his jeans pocket felt like twenty pounds of red-hot metal.

They'd set up camp for the night in the woods right on the outskirts of town. Abraham had set up mediocre sound traps around the small clearing, and Daryl couldn't help but snort when you walked right into one and the cans failed to clash together. 

Fire was a dumb idea too. 

Daryl had started to remember why he preferred being alone. Aaron was too used to the safety of the Alexandria walls. 

Abraham told him he'd better put it out after dark, also throwing in a passive aggressive insult, and Aaron stuttered out an agreement. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes off you. He sat across the fire from you, watching you smile and laugh and joke with Rosita like you were two young girls in summer camp.

As the flames of his fixation on you grew, so did his confliction. 

He had no problems with you. He'd barely even paid attention to you before you'd arrived at Alexandria, you were just another background character in his story that wouldn't make a difference if you died or not. But you'd grown close to Rick and Maggie, two people he cared about. So by extension, he cared about you too. 

He wasn't sure when it started. It kind of just happened over time.

He was always an outside observer, keeping details of each person he knew on a list in his mind. 

But you, he couldn't think of any reason you'd be so special. It was obvious you were smoking hot, he wasn't blind. But he'd seen his share of beautiful women. Maybe it was the fact you seemed to always have luck on your side, you could go out singing in the woods and never run into any trouble. 

If the two of you weren't careful, that luck might change tonight. 

Abraham and Aaron were busy looking at a map of the town and figuring out what pathing they'd take in the morning. Sasha and Rosita were sitting on their bedrolls cleaning their guns and talking about meaningless things, he didn't care enough to listen. 

You were the odd man out. Just like him. 

Sitting in the dirt on the other side of the fire, fidgeting with a stick in front of you while you thought. 

He could tell you knew he was staring at you again. And judging by the way you were forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the stick you were drawing circles in the dirt with, you were trying your best not to look up. 

He didn't expect you to look up. He almost let the confusion show on his face, caught off guard by his incorrect prediction. He saw the way your cheeks flushed even though the light of the fire made your face glow orange. He flared his nostrils at the sight, why'd you have to make it so damn hard?

His heart dropped when you suddenly stood and walked off into the woods. 

No one had even noticed, too wrapped up in their conversations. Another thing that succeeded in his self restraint slipping away. 

Daryl followed after counting three minutes in his head. He'd really hoped you'd come back before then, praying you'd be lucky enough to slip back through the trees before he got to his feet. 

It was dark in the woods away from the campfire. 

He could hear you a few yards ahead, your boots crunching lightly on leaves despite your attempts at being quiet. 

He kept his distance, just following the sounds of your footsteps and the slight silhouette of your body, the moonlight seeping through the treetops barely grazing your hair and shoulders. 

This was way too natural to him. 

Now out here you were just like any other victim, but it brought him comfort knowing there'd be no way he could hurt you and get away with it. The two of you disappear off into the woods at night and only Daryl comes back? He might think the people around the fire made stupid decisions sometimes, but they weren't stupid enough to not be suspicious of him. 

Maybe he could say walkers got you. 

He clenched his jaw when he realized he was at such a desperate point that an idea that stupid even crossed his mind. 

“Daryl?”

The sound of your sweet voice made him physically recoil, his hand falling from the knife in his belt that he didn't realize he'd been gripping. 

He could barely make out your figure in front of him. You were facing him, maybe six feet away, standing underneath a large pine tree. 

There was no use in hiding. Your eyes would've adjusted enough by now to see the shape of him. 

Finally, he answered, his voice coming out in more of a growl than a human speaking. “Shouldn't be out here alone.” 

There was silence before you filled it with the crunching of your footsteps moving towards him. 

His body tensed as you drew closer, now able to make out the pretty features of your face. An image of you flashed in his head, blood running down your nose and lips, tears in your eyes, your fingernails raking down his wrist. 

“I just needed a minute to clear my head.” You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren't out in the dead of night stomping around loud enough for any walkers within a five mile radius to hear. 

Daryl said nothing, his eyes fixed on your face as you slowly crept near. Although he hated not being able to read your expressions, he was thankful for it, because he was hanging on by a thread and if you even showed the slightest hint of fear, he'd snap. He wouldn't be able to resist if your lips trembled, or if your eyes widened and you stuttered a single apprehensive syllable. 

But as his eyes adjusted even further, his mouth ran dry and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. That would've been less of a stun than the look you were giving him, standing only a few inches away from him. 

Your plan had worked. You'd been plotting it ever since Rick paired you up in that group, the silent attention Daryl had been giving you ended up driving you mad. You found it absurd that all it took was a few stares to make you feel like he was some A list celebrity giving you special treatment.

Maybe it was a little stupid the way you went about it, but the curiosity eating you up inside didn't have you thinking straight. Walking off into the woods was one thing, but at night? In woods so thick you could barely see your hand outstretched in front of you? Blindly trekking through the leaves in the mere hope that he'd follow you and make a move? 

You hadn't had sex in way too long. 

Yeah, that was it.

That's why you were making the decisions of a dumb bitch in a horror movie. But at least it was Daryl you were after, you knew you'd be fine if you ran into trouble. 

You thought you'd be fine.

Emboldened by the darkness and privacy you'd secured for yourself, you approached him. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you had to bite your lip to keep from panicking, the fear of rejection or a humiliating scolding almost made you change your mind. 

Your eyes strained in the dark to make out the features of his face. 

He looked almost expressionless, but there was something in his eyes, something that had your steady breathing turning into shuddering breaths coming from your mouth. His gaze looked like a textbook example of ‘dark’. Your heart felt like it was literally about to explode, and when you saw his upper lip barely twitch, you let out an accidental sigh, too exhilarated to feel embarrassed with yourself. 

He was right in front of you then. You'd crossed every single inch of ground that separated you, and you could smell his signature scent of cigarettes, smoke, those spicy little mint leaves he'd chew on for his oral fixation. There was a hint of male musk as well, just barely there after a day walking outside in the woods. 

You could see his chest rising and falling more dramatically now. 

He was still dead silent, his eyes never leaving yours, even as you looked over every inch of him. You'd been biting your lip so hard it started to ache, and so you released it, your mouth opening to speak, you yourself unaware of what you planned to say.

The sound of Abraham’s whistle signal breaking through the thick silence had you feeling like you fell out of a plane. You sucked in a gasp and pulled your hand back from where it hung inches away from Daryl's chest. 

Daryl's posture snapped into something so different it gave you whiplash. He was Daryl Dixon again, the sight so drastic you couldn't help but feel unnerved. 

He whistled back before looking at you once more. It was still too dark to tell if he looked relieved or disappointed. “C'mon.” 

Keeping his distance from people had never been a problem for Daryl. But what you did that night had permanently altered something inside him. 

He didn't know if he wanted to fuck you or kill you. Maybe both. 

You became his new favorite pastime. 

When everyone fell asleep that night, he sat with his back against the same tree he'd been sitting under for hours, his eyes keeping their unwavering stance on your sleeping form. All the while he imagined hundreds of different things to do to you. 

His mind kept going between strangling the life out of you, watching it bleed from your eyes. Or the other one, the image where he was burying his face between your legs with his tongue and teeth sucking and nipping, licking till it became too much and you begged him to stop.

He carefully planned out his next encounter with you over the course of days. He acted it out the night of a “party” at Aaron and Eric’s house, so focused on his plan he didn't even know what they were having a party for.

Daryl didn't care if you caught him staring anymore. That night in the woods he could practically smell how bad you wanted it, it didn't matter to him anymore if he disregarded all basic manners.

The last time there was a party in Alexandria was when Rick's group joined. Daryl hadn't gone to that one, the feeling of being an outdoor cat watching indoor cats eating their fancy wet food too much for him. 

But he'd do anything to continue this little game with you. It was new, and there were no rules. 

For the most part he was his usual self, sticking to the side and keeping enough casual conversation to blend in. The perfect balance between himself, and the part of him that imagined in great detail all the sounds you'd make. 

He took a sip of the beer Aaron forced in his hands, his eyes looking back to you. 

You looked like a fresh cut of meat just waiting for him to sink his teeth into. 

The dress you wore hugged every single piece of your body, fitting you in a way that was almost poetic, but it was modest enough that it didn't draw unwanted attention. You were beside Rick most of the night, happily chatting and drinking champagne in a way that oozed confidence. 

Every now and then you'd look at him, and he'd savor all the details of the way your confidence faded into something he didn't have a word for. You looked nervous, but hungry, like someone reaching out a hesitant hand to stroke the pelt of a tamed predator. 

Daryl wanted to bite that hand, hold it in his harsh jaws while your other one stroked his fur. 

You played your part well, after most of the formal greetings and casual conversation had been taken care of you slipped out the back door. 

He counted three minutes in his head before making his exit, which was stopped by Carol.

“Leaving already, huh?” She gave him a knowing smirk, unaware that her assumption he was just bored was incorrect. He'd never been more entertained. 

“Yeah, shit ain't for me anyway.” He played along with a nonchalant shrug, pulling a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Done enough already just by comin’.” 

Carol nodded, that smirk still on her face as she looked at the people standing around making friendly conversation. “Don't get into any trouble. Don't wanna help you hide bodies again.”

Daryl snorted, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. If there was anyone he'd come to for help hiding bodies it definitely would've been her. “Yeah yeah. Night Carol.” He gave her a pat on her shoulder before turning sideways to fit through the cracked door. 

He hadn't expected you to be so good at this. He'd been prepared to walk down the steps of the porch and see you standing down the sidewalk, waiting for him like he was your prom date. 

You weren't too good, though. He found you rather easily. The bottom of your heels left slight little indents in the dirt, leading between the houses, down the street, and right up to the sidewalk in front of your house. 

His heart rate sped up a little when he remembered that house was completely empty, all but you.

Or so he thought.

You weren't anywhere to be seen. He checked every room, growing increasingly irritated when each one turned up nothing. He was about to give up and just head home when he checked your room one last time. 

Something caught his eye, a blade of grass, his eyes followed the bits of grass to see those black heels sitting under your dresser, taking the place of your boots.

You tried to keep from anxiously picking at your fingernails as you stood behind the thick underbrush at the woodline, watching for any sign of movement along the outside walls. 

There was a spot at the back wall near a platform no one really watched anymore, which is where the both of you had gone to leave without being seen. 

You were beginning to think maybe you'd read him wrong. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered that look he gave you at the party, it was impossible to describe. He was lacking any sort of expression, but in his eyes held this darkness that made swallowing your champagne hard when you'd seen it. The way he leaned against the wall near a group of people, his eyes steady and fixed on you, you could only decipher that as a look of craving for something he'd been wanting for a long time.

If you hadn't been looking at the Alexandrian walls, you would've missed it. For a split second you saw a flash of dark clothing, even darker hair, and you darted from your position behind the thickets.

Thankfully it wasn't as dark as that one night. 

The sun had dipped down below the trees and out of sight, but it left just enough light for the sky to be a dark blue. The full moon made it even brighter, and soon you were in one of the houses right outside Alexandria. 

You stood in the living room and waited. You'd already checked the house for walkers before this, not keen on the idea of a growling monstrosity of green and purple flesh ruining whatever might happen there when Daryl arrived. 

If he arrived. 

You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't coming. The heavy front door was open just a few inches, you'd wanted to be able to see him approach the house, to take him by surprise, maybe giving him the same fright he'd given you countless times.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy. You felt that feeling again, like you were in danger, the feeling you might get being stalked by a large cat. 

There was a breeze behind you, and you recognized it as a draft from the back window being opened. 

Although it was happening behind you, your mind raced as you played out the scene. His hands bracing against the walls on either side of the window, his first leg dipping over like a spider emerging from its tunnel. 

The tap of a boot meeting the wood floor under the window, so light and careful you almost didn't hear it. A second foot, he was in the house, only across the room from you. You held your breath as the footsteps drew near, slow, deliberate, you could tell just by the timing of his steps he was approaching you like a leopard closing in on a wounded deer. Confident, patient, nearly sadistic.

The feeling of his breath on your bare shoulder sent chills through your body and goosebumps down your arms. It was cold and barely there, you felt like if you turned around you'd be met with an empty house.

His fingers were just as light as his breath, tracing the thin dress strap over your shoulder, down and to the middle of your spine. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Daryl could be this confident in this way. He acted like every antagonist in a romance novel, dark and self-assured with every move he made. 

You felt yourself relaxing as you leaned your back against his chest, feeling the leather of his vest on your skin, as well as the buttons on his black shirt. 

The feeling of his hand snaking over your shoulder and up to your neck succeeded in sending every last drop of blood in your body down between your legs. You were fully prepared for the best slow, deep, mind-blowing sex of your life, but that quickly changed when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

It wasn't a firm and sexy squeeze, it was a ‘wait that's actually way too tight’ squeeze. 

Your eyes shot back open but you tried to keep your cool, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab at his wrist.

Apparently, Daryl didn't like that. 

He suddenly had your back pressed against the wall of the living room with movements so quick and precise it made your head spin. You looked up at his face, lit with a dim blue light from the windows, searching for any signs that would be cause for panic. 

He decided to give you that reason you were looking for, and wrapped his hand around your neck again.

For once, Daryl wasn't fighting some internal battle on if he should kill you or not. 

He'd made the decision as soon as he crept in the window and saw you standing in the living room, facing the front door and biting at your nails. 

That decision wasn't final, though, you had the power in your hands to change his mind. 

Hopefully you'd be as lucky as you always were. 

He looked down at your face as he kept his one handed grip on your throat, burning the image in his mind. Your eyes were wide and full of this otherworldly beautiful fear, so much uncertainty it made his already hard cock twitch. 

Your hands were still on his wrist, as if it gave you some sort of control, something he found endearing. You still trusted him, you still thought you had a chance to regain the control you thought you had this whole time.

“This what you wanted?” He breathed, looking from your eyes to your lips. Your face had turned a shade darker from his grip, your lips turning a pretty hue of red. “Wanted me to hunt you down, and then what? Huh?”

He watched for your reaction, waiting to see how you'd play the hand you'd been dealt, and to his pleasant surprise you managed to nod. 

Daryl's hand loosened just enough to send the blood back to your head and you sucked in a deep breath, before letting out a trembling whimper. 

His lips twitched into a soft smirk, and he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. You kissed him hungrily, swallowing the growl from his throat as your bare knee pressed against the aching bulge in his jeans. You moved it in firm circles, and he decided that earned a returned gesture.

He used his knee to roughly spread your thighs before giving you the same treatment. The whine that drew from your lips, and the way your eyes rolled back in your head, had him letting out a deep groan. He ground his knee up between your legs, long enough to feel the wetness seeping from your panties and through his jeans. 

You didn't get a chance to tell him about the bed you'd cleaned upstairs for this. Which was unfortunate, given you'd gone out of your way to do so, not that he would've cared anyway. 

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, fingers finding the zipper of your dress and unceremoniously pulling it down to your ass. Your heavy breathing fueled his desire and he grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking your dress down with his other hand so fast it burned. 

With the grip he had in your hair he forcefully guided you onto the floor, releasing you only to settle between your thighs and slide his hands up your bare chest to his favorite part of you. 

You got that look on your face again. Lust blown pupils, breathing softly through your mouth. You still hadn't figured it out yet, that you could very easily be in danger. 

This time he used both hands. 

A yelp got choked from your throat as he squeezed, allowing himself a few seconds to please himself. The white of your eyes turned a light pink at the edges, a few beads of tears forming there as well, the sight making his dick throb. 

He released your neck and you gasped, sucking down lungfuls of air as your head spun. You felt like you were on a carousel the way you got so dizzy. 

While you regained your bearings he unbuckled his belt and took out his dick, his right hand wasting no time in giving himself relief. You took the opportunity to slide off your panties, and when he saw the glistening of your wet folds in the deep blue lighting he growled. The sinful sound earned a whimper from you, and he refocused on your face to see a pitiful look of impatience.

Daryl switched to stroking himself with his left hand, and guided the tip up through your slick folds. He savored the way you looked then, biting your bottom lip as you prepared yourself. 

Instead of giving the satisfaction he pulled his tip back and carried on fucking his hand. As soon as your eyes opened and you went to protest, his free hand went right back to your neck.

He loved the way you looked then, desperate and pathetic, so full of frustration it leaked out through tears in your eyes. He squeezed hard, completely cutting off blood and air to your brain, tugging his dick faster as you squirmed.

Daryl lifted up his knee to pin one of your thighs to the floor in an effort to keep you still. He took his hand away from his cock and spit in his palm, wasting no time in getting back to touching himself. 

He could've easily come right there. If he wanted to, he could keep squeezing just a few more moments, and your squirming would've stopped. He could spill his load on your stomach and effortlessly slip into his cleanup routine, but aside from the fact that part of him didn't really want to kill you, the way you orgasmed had him fucking frozen.

He hadn't even touched you, but you came. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together and the leg he didn't have pinned down wrapped around his waist, your hips rolling in a desperate attempt to get friction against your clit. He relaxed his hand from your throat and you let out this bubbly whimpering sound that made his hips instinctively jerk forward. 

Daryl watched you, holding his breath without realizing it. She just came from you chokin’ her. The words repeated over and over in his mind as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm. 

He had to snatch his hand away from his dick to keep his own orgasm at bay. Not yet, not a chance in hell, not after you just did that. You deserved something for showing him the hottest thing he never would've thought possible.

His body went on autopilot. He slid down from your body, planting kisses in a trail from your neck to your naval, down to your thighs, then back up again. He buried his face between your legs, not giving you a moment's notice or time to recover. He swirled his tongue around your clit, grazing his teeth against it before sucking it between his lips.

You bucked against him like a wild horse, the stimulation so much your body didn't know how to react. It was desperate, finally getting some stimulation, but you'd just had a world shattering orgasm only seconds before. He wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth again, his grip tight to keep you from squirming away again. 

The only control you had was your ability to choose what to do with your hands. Your fingers wrapped around clumps of his hair, winding up so tight it made his scalp burn. 

He growled in response and took your clit between his teeth, holding it there as a stern warning, only letting it go when you stopped pulling so damn hard.

If he had the power to freeze time for everything but the two of you, he would've eaten your pussy for hours. But he settled on just long enough to pull another orgasm from you, sliding the tip of his tongue from your throbbing clit to the new trail of slick cum dripping out of you. 

Daryl didn't give you time to recover from that one either. As soon as your cry faded out he flipped you on your back, ignoring the yelp of protest you made when your hip bones dug into the hard floor beneath you. 

The only warning he gave you before shoving his cock into you was a quick slide of his swollen tip between your puffy folds. Just right enough to lubricate the head, and then he drove it in.

The way you groaned in pain from the stretch almost made him cum right there. He stilled inside you, not for you to adjust but for him to fall back away from the edge. The benefit to you was just lucky. 

“Fuck.” It was the first time in a while that he'd spoken, and it was solely due to the way your hot plush walls squeezed his dick like a fist. 

He should've known you'd feel like that, he hadn't seen you with a man the entire time he'd known you. His chest shuddered with his ragged breaths, and once he was ready he put both hands flat on your upper back. He put his weight there, keeping him upright so he could lift his hips and fuck his dick into you with all his weight.

Your arms slid out in front of you, your hands grasping for something, anything, you needed something to hold onto.

He wouldn't grant you that kindness either. He rested his knees back on the floor on either side of your thighs and grabbed your arms, bending them painfully behind you. When he held your wrists together at the base of your spine he started fucking you again. 

Each rough snap of his hips drove a whiney moan from you. He liked that a lot, it sounded similar to a different type of crying, and he slowed down to keep his dick from getting friction burns. While you used the opportunity to squirm under him in an attempt to get more comfortable he spit on his fingers, letting it drip onto the base of his cock before changing positions once again.

He moved your arms up over your head and laid down on top of you, the weight of him pressing down on your back pushing all the air from your lungs. 

Your check rubbed against the floor as he started thrusting again, this time settling on a new pace, rough and fast despite the fact he barely drew his dick out. If he wasnt fucking you so roughly, the feeling of his head resting against yours would’ve given you butterflies. You became acutely aware of the closeness, there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies, and every grunt and groan he made had his lips brushing up against the side of your ear.

He used his hips to grind his dick inside you, the new motion drawing filthy gasps and whines from you from the way his tip seemed to roll and dig into each and every crevice inside you. You'd never felt anything like that before, so used to the normal thrusting. He only pulled back about an inch, rolling his hips in a way that had you shamelessly moaning. 

Daryl moved your hair from the back of your neck, pushing it up and away before leaning down to dig his teeth into the skin right at the base of your neck. He bit hard, something you didn't expect, and you cried out in pain, your body jerking under him. 

It was hard for you to breathe with his full weight on your back. The heat of his body gave you uncomfortable hot flashes, adding to the sweat you'd already made. Your hair stuck to your forehead and you made an attempt to push it off, which was made difficult when he changed paces once again.

He started drawing out further now, but he'd just drive back in harder, faster, causing your body to grind roughly against the wood floor. The skin over your hip bones started to burn as well as your nipples, something you found almost agonizing but shamefully pleasurable at the same time. 

He fucked you like that until you came for the third time, now around his dick. He pushed himself off your back and used his hands on your shoulders to keep you pinned down, watching as he breathed through his mouth at the way his cock disappeared inside you. 

You were lucky he felt like a new position. 

He waited until you stopped writhing under him from your orgasm before grabbing your thigh to turn you on your back. 

Relief washed over you as the pain in your hip bones faded, only to have that relief taken from you when he grabbed your waist and yanked you up and off the floor. 

Your feet didn't even touch the ground, your body swaying as you tried to get a sense of gravity, Daryl's hands tight on your sides as he took you to the couch. 

All you could do at that point was relax and let him move your body for you, your hands shaking against your chest as he sat you on the arm of the couch. You let him push you down on your back, your ass and legs dangling over the arm for a few dizzying seconds before he grabbed your legs and held them around his waist. 

Daryl pushed his dick back in your abused pussy and groaned, gripping your thighs tighter so he could pull you closer to him.

Your back arched almost uncomfortably, your hips angled up against his pelvis, the only part of your back that touched the cushions of the couch ended up being your shoulders. You were thankful you could at least breathe now. 

Daryl was skilled at taking small bits of relief like that away. 

He leaned down and bit your already sore nipple so hard and so suddenly you nearly shouted. Your hands instinctively went to grab his hair for support, but he leaned back and your fingers fell from his face. 

He was proud of the new angle. Your pelvis tilted up and him fucking down into you sent him as deep as possible, and soon he began fucking you rough enough that it bordered closely on too painful. 

Lucky for you, you liked it. Your walls burned pleasurably from the dragging of his dick, and he started speaking again. 

“Look at you, dirty little whore.” He teased as he looked down at your abused body with a grin. Your nipples and hips were red from him fucking you into the floor, your neck equally as red from the force of his hands. 

Your sweet, sweet pretty face, twisted up in a mix of pleasure and pain, your cheeks red, your lips swollen, streaks of black makeup running down your face. The sight made him seriously consider picking up drawing, because that look was, without a doubt, the best thing he'd seen in his entire life. 

“Daryl,” You finally plucked the courage to speak to him and he raised a brow, impressed, he'd gotten used to you taking it so well without any complaints. “Too much.” Your voice broke as you whined, another orgasm bringing you to shambles. 

He snorted as he watched you come around his dick yet again, your words asking for mercy but your body clearly asking him otherwise. 

“You can take a little more, yeah?” Even he was becoming spent, his heart banging in his chest so hard he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his hands down your sweaty chest to your breasts, his dick twitching inside you at the way you cried when he pinched that same sore nipple. 

“I don't know,” Another wave of shivers overcame you, eliciting exhausted, long and shaky whines. Your body couldn't process going a little under two years with little to no sexual activity, and then suddenly being mind numbingly overstimulated with the most exhilarating sex you'd ever had in your life. Each time you thought you'd gotten used to it he'd pull the rug out from under you, either by causing pain or giving you more pleasure that you knew what to do with. 

As if on cue you felt his flattened hand smack the side of your face, demanding your focus. Your eyes struggled to find him, your vision fuzzy and wobbly, but when you looked up and saw him your heart fluttered. 

“Look at me. C'mon.” He didn't want you passing out on him, that took all the fun away. 

Despite the obvious fact he had a clear disregard for your comfort or discomfort, the way he was looking down at you sent butterflies through your stomach and chest. His pupils were so blown with lust that you couldn't see the pretty color of his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy with the approach of his orgasm. His lips, glistening from the way his tongue had darted out to wet them, parted as he huffed in ragged breaths. 

You could tell if he had a picture of you like this, he'd be reacting the same way with just his hand. The thought had a moan bubbling past your lips. 

“C'mon.” His hips snapped forward roughly, jerking in a break from his steady aggressive rhythm. You cried out from that, your hands finding the sides of his dangling belt to grab onto like the reins of a horse.

He'd held back his orgasm as long as he could, but the sight of you shaking and trembling under him, exhausted and overstimulated, he couldn't last much longer. Your face twisted in discomfort as he fucked you faster again, your hips suddenly doing their best to wiggle up and away from the frenzy of his dick. 

You'd managed to get a few short moments of relief, sliding backwards until his dick nearly slid out.

His upper lip curled in disbelief, and he shook his head, scoffing at you. “Don't be a baby, you can take it.” You were yanked back down on his dick, the sensation of being forced back into overstimulation had you moaning in distress. 

You nodded your head feverishly, setting your jaw as you looked up at the ceiling, trying your best to keep it together. But each time his hips would ram into yours it made his crotch slam against your clit, and it got too much, your breathing sped up as the panic of overstimulation set in. You really tried then, actually tried to wiggle away, and to your surprise, and much needed relief, he stilled his hips. 

You were expecting him to maybe find a better way to restrain you, or put you in a position you couldn't move from, but he just used the moment to catch his breath before his demeanor changed completely.

“Hey, hey, shh.” The sweetness in his tone made you whimper, your eyes falling closed as he comforted you. It felt so fucking good, you found yourself willing to do anything and everything to feel that tenderness some more. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” He cooed as your breathing slowed and your fingers stopped shaking.

Daryl released your thighs and with unexpected ease, he slipped his hands under the arch in your back, picking you up and moving so he could sit down on the couch, keeping you stuck on his cock the entire time. 

The new position of being on top sent a fresh wave of pleasure flipping in the bottom of your stomach, the tip of his dick pressed right at the end of your walls.

It wasn't painful like you'd felt before when your cervix was accidentally hit too hard, quite the opposite, the feeling of pressure was so strangely good you found yourself pushing down with all your weight, desperate to feel more. 

Daryl tossed his head back with a grunt at the feeling, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting it. His hands took their place on your hips, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin there. 

He'd only switched to this position because his legs were getting unsteady, but the way you looked above him was something he didn't expect to enjoy as much as he did. 

He took a second to catch his breath before he planted his boots firmly on the floor, pressing his back against the couch, and when he was perfectly leveraged he used his hands to keep your waist hovering above him, using the angle to fuck his dick up into you so hard you immediately came again. 

The way you came for the fourth time made his jaw drop. 

He watched you through heavy lidded eyes, taking in every second of it as he breathed through his open mouth. The way your face tensed up in twisted concentration, and then the way it dropped as you fell apart, your mouth falling open with a guttural moan that put every single goddamn porn video he'd seen to shame. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your mouth hung open in such a beautiful ‘O’, he broke. 

He let go of your waist so your full weight would slam down on his cock and he came, his head tilted back against the couch, his dark hair falling away from his face. 

You watched his face the same way he'd watched yours, rolling your hips down against him as you drew out every wave of the strongest orgasm you'd ever had. He looked fucking beautiful. You'd do everything in your power to get him like this again, but this time with your camera. 

His orgasm literally shook him. He clenched the skin over your hips in a tight grip, using it to keep you as tight as possible against him. In those few seconds his mind went blank, almost devolving him into an animal. Those instincts wanted to keep you there on top of him, so he did, rolling his pelvis to fuck his cum deeper into you. 

Daryl held you there until way after he came down from his high, only releasing his grip on your skin when he felt his dick grow soft. 

You couldn't move off him if you tried. Your legs felt like you'd lost all muscle mass, same with your arms. Your body slumped forward and you fell against his chest, your nipples burning as they rubbed against his shirt and vest. 

His arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing your body tight against his, his hips giving a few last weak rolls up against you. 

It took you both a while to catch your breath, the mouth breathing leaving the two of you uncomfortably thirsty. 

He made the first move when he realized you couldn't, and he slid your body off of his into the seat beside him. He sat there for a few more seconds before he carefully put his tender dick back in his pants. 

His belt buckle clinked noisily as he fastened it, his fingers shaky and inaccurate.  He watched as you slowly rose to your feet and grabbed your panties, the rising and falling of his chest gradually slowing. 

The sight of you struggling to climb into your dress had him feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. He chewed on the skin around his thumb, watching you slip your feet into your boots before you leaned against the wall next to the front door. 

You looked at it and faltered, realizing that the two of you had been pretty loud. When you looked back to him with a concerned expression you were just met with an uncaring smirk, the man now on his feet and wiping the sweat from his face with the top of his shirt. He grabbed his crossbow from the floor and flung it over his shoulder before leading you back home.

@ophelialaufey

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[itaipava]

— moments that break f1 boys after the break up

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

that first night of coming home to… nothing. no one to say his habitual ‘honey, i’m home’ to. no ‘hello.’ no hugs. no kisses. no smell of your cooking or baking. no sound of you softly humming to the music as you go about your night around the house. nothing but the empty space that feels way too large and unnecessary now that you’re not here anymore. 

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

when he looks at your instagram feed and sees that his pictures and your couple photos are no longer there — it’s the moment of realization that it really is over between you two; traces of him completely erased on your social media and in your life. then going back to his own feed to see evidences of what you guys once were, before shakily pressing the ‘delete’ button on all of them. 

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

the moment his parents ask him about you and he realizes that he has to tell them you’re not together anymore; that you’re no longer in each other’s lives. “how has y/n been?” he doesn’t even know. it’s been so long since you’ve last seen or talked to each other. 

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

it’s been a long time since he last saw you. all this time, the pain is dull and sad, he's pushed everything down, distracting himself with other things in life. but what really breaks him is when he sees you with your new partner. and what's worse, he sees you looking at them the same way you used to look at him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

the moment his phone beeps, notifying a calender event only to see that it’s your anniversary date soon, but realizing that it no longer matters. he feels an actual physical sting in his heart as he thinks about how you would have spent the day if you were still together, and where it all went wrong. 

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he tried, but he couldn’t help reading all your old messages. his finger lightly running across the screen as he reads each text message, his eyes stinging from the tears that kept coming. every time you asked him to take care of himself, every time you said you missed him, every ‘good luck’ before every race, every ‘i love you’, and if he knew it would be the last time you would say that, he would have said it back.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

when he sees the promise ring that you left behind on the table as he hears the door slam. he didn’t mean to say all those things, he didn’t mean to say it was over between you two. and now as he stares at the ring, horrible realization creeps into him that you’re never, ever coming back. 

[nariism]

to the ends of our world — i. rin

academic rivals to lovers + "i could kiss you right now!" + "we fell asleep by accident and woke up as a mess of tangled limbs."

synopsis. all rin said was that he would help you with calculus. he didn't think he'd be waking up to your morning breath and wishing the moment would last forever.

wc. 1.6k

notes. kind of a highschool au where rin is out for the season because of an injury 🙏 also kind of a one-sided rivalry because rin is a loser :p

— for @itoshiexx <3 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I could kiss you right now.

Those were the last words you spoke to Rin almost an hour ago.

He's agonizing over it, really. He probably should have at least said something back to you instead of shutting you out like he does every time he feels himself getting too close.

Instead he's dutifully working through his calculus notebook.

If he focuses enough on perfecting derivatives, he can ignore the way your presence beside him has only gotten weightier. But it's hard to do that when the words are still echoing in his mind.

I could kiss you right now.

You're just as adamant on finishing your workbook, eyes glued to the page and attention completely devoted to making numbers dance.

When you asked him earlier in the day if he could help you with the new sets, he was confused. You'd always been the one to best him.

It irritated him. You reminded him too much of his big brother.

But then he saw your notebook. You'd hesitantly handed it over to him when you showed up at his doorstep with courtesy snacks and a bag of oranges for his mother.

(Which she gushed about, by the way. He felt like burying himself in a hole when she asked if you were dating.)

You'd been trying for so long to figure out the solutions that some areas of the page were torn where you had kept erasing and redoing the work. He even found things scribbled out in frustration.

He would have laughed if you didn't have such a grim look on your face. Rin was never one for humour, anyways.

He reluctantly agreed to help, though he was sure your other grades would make up for one botched math unit. It was the petty pride in him speaking—in reality, the way you looked like you were on the verge of tears was enough to send him into fight or flight mode.

He had never seen such a dazed, stressed expression on you before. You were the epitome of a model student—good grades, class representative, and friendly enough that no one ever wanted to step on your toes.

No one but Rin, that is.

He told himself he hated you. Goody-two shoes. Smiley. Obliviously and annoyingly cheerful. Successful enough to do anything you wanted to do, so long as you had the drive.

Everything Rin would have been if he hadn't injured his knee right before the football season started.

But what he thought he felt about you was a lie. He hadn't even realized it until you were sitting down on his bed, knee bumping into him as you lounged there criss-crossed.

He'd always just seen you as the person who sat in front of him in homeroom. Untouchable. He envied you, even though his grades were nearly as good now that he had all the time in the world to study.

Now, though, you're just as human as he is.

Rin can see your face instead of the back of your head. Your words are meant for him—thanking him, praising how easy his method for solving these equations is.

Then, you shattered his daydream.

I could kiss you right now.

You said it so unseriously, not even looking at him when you did. You had gotten to the end of your third page of work, conquering the math with ease now that you understood it.

It was your funny way of expressing gratitude. He knows you didn't mean anything by it, definitely. But it's been stuck in his mind.

And neither of you have uttered a word to each other since.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when you slam your pencil down in your notebook and shut it with an audible thud.

"Break time!" You sigh blissfully, though he isn't sure if you're talking to him or yourself.

You flop back into his mattress and he just stares in quiet disbelief while you scroll through your phone like you fucking pay rent here.

Rin debates whether or not to kick you off his bed so that he can finish his homework without distraction, or if he should just leave you be. Ultimately, he decides that it's too much of a hassle to deal with confrontation and silently goes back to doing derivatives.

He would feel bad shoving you away when you finally started talking to him, after all. And you look so at ease now, with your work almost done.

(Yeah, you started working at a faster pace than him with his method. You seriously piss him off.)

He comes to the conclusion that this is going to be a one-time thing. Rin hates the twist of despair in his stomach seeing you about to burst into tears.

He hates the peace that fills him when you're back to your smiling self even more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin wakes up to warmth.

Groggily, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes until they adjust to the light of sunrise pouring into his room.

It's strange. He doesn't remember falling asleep at all.

What was he doing last night? He shifts a little bit and freezes when he hears the crinkle of paper beneath him.

Oh, his calculus homework. Did he finish it? It's due today.

He's just about to sit himself up to check the time and hope he has at least another hour to sleep before school, when he realizes much too late that there's a weight on his arm.

Rin gets yanked back by the arm that's pinned down, yelping quietly in surprise.

And then everything hits him like a goddamn truck.

Maybe more like a freight train, really, because he feels like he's about to have a fucking heart attack. Rin dares to turn his head, so comically slow that it's like life itself moves in slow motion.

Somehow in your sleep, you've become a tangled mess of limbs.

His arm is tucked under your neck—the culprit for making him whelp like a child when he tried to sit up. Your legs are twisted together and... Oh god. His free hand is resting where your hip melts into your thigh.

Panic rises in his chest because one, he's never had another person in his bed before. Period. And two, because there's heat boiling in the pit of his stomach and he's pretty sure he's about to keel over and pass away.

Just as he's about to shove you off the bed, realization dawns on him.

You look so peaceful when you sleep.

Your breath smells, and your hair has gotten tangled under the weight of his arm. You're muttering to yourself quietly in your sleep, and he's pretty sure he can see a bit of drool in the corner of your lip.

He so desperately wishes that his first thought would be to tease you about this until the end of time. Or maybe use it as blackmail against you, if you were to get a higher grade on the upcoming calculus exam because of his methods.

But instead, his first thought is that he never wants to move from this position. That he needs to savour this moment.

It's horrifying.

18 hours ago, you pranced up to the side of Rin's desk and asked if he could help you with the problem set.

All he said was that he would help you with calculus.

He didn't expect you to show up at his door right after dinner. And he didn't expect you to seat yourself on his bed before he could offer you the chair at his desk.

He certainly didn't think he'd be waking up to your morning breath and wishing the moment would last forever.

You've just been a bag full of mysteries. Rin hates mysteries. It's part of the reason why math works for him—no surprises, no ambiguity. There's always an answer.

Rin can't formulate an answer on why his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his ribcage.

You shuffle in his arms and suddenly the pounding in his chest ceases.

Is this what death feels like?

"Rin?" You murmur sleepily, shifting into his warmth as if this is something regular classmates should be doing. "What time is it?"

"I can't see the clock," he deadpans, though it's just a facade to hide how utterly enamoured he is right now. "It's behind you."

You groan, rolling over to check the time. He breathes a sigh of relief as you pull away but it gets stuck in his throat when you collapse back into him, your back against his chest.

"6:07," you tell him nonchalantly. And then you cozy yourself up in the blankets again, nice and warm, and go back to sleep.

"Hey," he shakes you lightly. "Don't just go back to bed, moron."

"We can talk about the homework later," you mumble as if that's what he fucking meant.

A million words run through his mind, parading to the tip of his tongue where they all fall off and die. He can't find them when you're slotting yourself closer and closer in your sleep, squeezing his arm against your cheek.

Eventually, he decides that it's not worth the hassle of getting up and having you see his flustered face right now. You'd never let him live it down.

So he closes his eyes and pretends that you're not just the person who sits in front of him in homeroom. Goody-two shoes. Smiley. Obliviously and annoyingly cheerful.

"I could..."

He swallows loudly, the words like molasses in his throat.

I could kiss you right now.

You're dead to the world, but he doesn't dare speak the thought into existence, anyway.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

("Rin! 95%!"

You shove your paper into his face and he opens his mouth to snark back about it.

But then you leap forward and press a kiss to his cheek. Everything in his head instantly melts into mush.

"You're the best," you gush.

He just glowers at you with burning red cheeks.)

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sibling

Chapter 4 | Sleepy Studies

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

“What is your sister like?” Viktor asked during one late night.

“Why?”

“Simply curious. I was an only child.”

“Okay,” Jinx said slowly, looking Viktor up and down. “Well, they’re like. . . Geez, I don’t know. I mean, when I was little I spent waaay more time with them than with V— We’ve always been close. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

Viktor noticed her cut off and raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t question.

He tapped something Jinx wrote twice. She looked down and her lips curled up. She wiggled her pencil in her hand for a moment before she flipped it and erased what she’d written, replacing it with something else.

“Perhaps phrasing it differently will help? What is it like having siblings?” the question phrased plural on purpose.

Jinx shrugged. “I mean, you’ve got someone to look up to, I guess. Someone who’s your friend and your bully all wrapped up into one present and shoved in your hands but the wrapping paper is kind of wet which is weird because that’s not how presents are supposed to be, right? It’s kind of off putting because it’s kind of gross. Then you open it up and look at the box and the box is weird too. It’s like purple instead of brown. And then when you finally open the box, it’s like all your insecurities are there in the shadows and then you put it in the light and boom! Unconditional love that you definitely don’t deserve but it’s hidden because of insults and petty drama.”

A pause.

Viktor blinked once, twice.

Jinx looked him up and down.

“Does that make sense?”

“None at all.”

“Oh.”

She was quiet for a moment. She looked off into the space before her. Unmoving, slightly unnerving.

She sniffed. She shrugged. She bounced back, leaning into his personal space. “Welp! That’s the best I got.”

Viktor shook his head with a bemused slight quirk to his lips. “Alright, so,” he began, pointing at some of the runes.

The rest of the night passed by until it was closer to early morning. Viktor stretched his arms out behind his back. Jinx was standing, leaning her back against the table, bending backwards. She’d taken out her pins that held her bun in place and long braids pooled on the table, one even hanging off.

“Do you think that trees cry when they’re cut down?” Jinx asked. “That they know they’re going to die?”

“And I will take that as our sign to call it,” Viktor said.

Jinx gave an over exaggerated groan in reply but Viktor could tell by the way she was twirling the end of one of her braids and occasionally hitting her face with it, she was feeling the pull of sleep begin to tug.

She tilted her hips towards the table and moved her leg. In one fluid motion she was upright. Then she almost fell. Quickly she righted herself and shot Viktor a giant smile.

Viktor grabbed his crutch. He situated it beneath his arm and curled his fingers around the handle.

Jinx let her body weight all go to one foot as she kept the door open. The only thing which prevented her from falling was her hold on the doorknob.

When he walked through, she followed him.

“Ow! Shit!” she yelled.

Viktor’s head whipped back and her braid had gotten caught between the doors. She jerked the door open and yanked her braid out of the way. It hit his leg and the door closed.

“I see why you keep your hair up,” Viktor said.

Jinx scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I like my braids being down, even when they do get caught on things.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“Because, they keep me grounded. Without their weight I feel like my head is floating away from me,” she said.

“Then why don’t you wear them down?” he questioned.

“Stupid Upper City people,” she muttered under her breath. “They think it’s ‘unhygienic’ because they drag on the floor. Yeah, they do and guess what! I clean them every day. They don’t even drag on the floor unless I’m hunched over.”

“I didn’t think you the type to let others people’s opinions bother you,” Viktor told her.

“I don’t! Normally. It’s just doing all these things and following all these stupid fucking rules is how I got here,” she said with a pointed gesture at the academy floors. “I can’t lose that now. Sis worked too hard to get me here.”

Viktor could empathize with the struggle. Being not only from the Undercity but also disabled prevented an entire load of problems up here. He’d take them though, over the polluted air. At least here he could breathe.

Viktor held the door open for Jinx. He waited until she was a decent bit away before letting the door fall closed.

“Let me haul you a taxi,” Viktor said, worried for the girl in her tired state.

She shrugged but didn’t fight him.

They sat in the backseat of the taxi. Jinx’s braids pooled in the floor.

She scooted closer to him. She slowly pushed her hand between his arm and torso until he tentatively let her wrap their arms together. Her head immediately plopped down on his shoulder. He tensed.

“I don’t even get to do my building anymore up here,” she said as she nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

“Building?” he asked as he forced his body to relax.

“Yeah, before we came up here, I used to build all sorts of gadgets. I mean, I still do but I can’t do it as often. I can’t even find a place to test my bombs and since the Industrialist took over the Undercity, we don’t go down there much. Just on special occasions.”

“You build bombs?”

Jinx laughed a bit. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes and sank against him. “Smoke bombs—“ internally he sighed in relief— “real bombs, guns.”

“Huh,” was all he could say.

The rest of the ride was relatively silent. That is until Jinx started snoring and some drool seeped through his shirt. He didn’t make any attempt to move her though.

The automobile came to a halt. With a quick word to the driver and careful movement, he slipped out. He walked into the apartment building and knocked the door labeled 07.

A couple long moments passed. He raised his hand to knock again as it but it jerked open.

“The fuck do you want at one in the— Oh, it’s you. Hi,” you said as you processed who exactly stood in front of you.

Viktor felt his stomach do the smallest twist. Your hair was a mess. Your shorts were hanging off one hip and up too high on the other. A strap of the tank top you wore was twisted.

“Jinx is asleep in a taxi. I would bring her in myself but ah,” he gestured with his crutch.

“Oh, yeah,” you said as you walked out of the threshold of the apartment. “She sleeps like the dead.”

You yawned as you walked with him to the taxi.

Jinx’s head was lulled forward. Her chin touched her clavicle but still she snored on.

You crawled a bit into the automobile and put your hands beneath her legs and her back. You pulled her closer to you until you could heave her up in your arms. Her head bobbled and smacked you in the chin. She just groaned and used her hand to push your face away.

“Ow,” you said in a monotoned voice. “Anyway, thanks for getting her home.”

“Of course, it was my pleasure. Do you need me to open the door for you?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Inside you put Jinx to bed. You slipped off her shoes, pulled her vest down her arms, undid her belt. You undid the buttons of her shirt and slid on an oversized one before slipping off her button up and pulling off her pants.

She pulled the blanket around her and face planted in her pillow.

“Thanks, sis,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said.

Still, you moved her face so she wouldn’t suffocate on her pillow and brushed her bangs out of her face. You placed a kiss right above her brow.

Then you grabbed your own covers to wrap yourself in and laid back on the couch where you’d been, wondering why you felt all warm inside by the man who kept caring for your sister with you.

[justtr]

✰ ✰ ✰

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Gods & monsters by Lana del rey

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The silence in the house was comfortable, yet filled with small sounds that kept you present. The creak of the floor beneath your bare feet, the soft hum of the ceiling fan, the flick of a lighter breaking the monotony. Billie was sitting on the couch, one leg crossed beneath her body, her posture relaxed but her mind clearly elsewhere.

The air had a hint of tobacco, mixed with the sweet scent of the candles she had lit earlier. In the dim light, her hair seemed darker, the reddish highlights at the tips barely visible. You didn’t look at her directly, but you could feel her presence, magnetic as always.

“Do you think this makes sense?” Her voice broke the silence, soft but carrying something more. She wasn’t looking at you; her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, as if the answer was written there.

“What do you mean?” you asked, putting down the book you’d been pretending to read.

“All of this.” She made a gesture with her hand, encompassing more than just the room, more than the house. “The fame, the expectations, the people who think they know me just because they’ve heard a

You took a second to process her words, but before you could respond, she let out a sarcastic laugh. “It’s like being a god on an altar. Everyone worships you, but no one really sees you. It’s exhausting.”

You stood up from the couch where you’d been sitting and moved closer to her, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “You don’t have to be a god with me,” you said, your fingers brushing lightly over her arm.

Billie lowered her gaze to you, and for a moment, her impenetrable façade seemed to crumble. Her eyes, as intense as always, were filled with something you recognized: fatigue, fear, a desire for something real. “You say that now,” she murmured, bringing the cigarette to her lips, “but in the end, everyone wants something.”

Letting go of my tightly pressed lips, which hurt as I separated them, I took the cigarette from her, which was about to damage her lungs, and extinguished it on the table next to the couch. She didn’t even move a muscle. It’s not that she liked smoking that crap… It was just that she was running out of ideas on how to push away her overwhelming feelings.

“Not me.”

“Not you?” The hint of humor in her response made your heart tremble a little.

You shook your head, and before you could say anything else, she moved her head, and her body followed as she left her pathetic lounging position on the couch, leaning toward you. “Then why are you here?”

It wasn’t an accusatory question. It was pure curiosity, mixed with that insecurity that sometimes slipped into her words. “Because with you, I feel something different,” you said, your voice dropping. “Like, for once, I don’t have to try to be enough. Like I can just be… me.”

Billie let out a sigh, leaning back against the couch as she closed her eyes. Her hands, calloused from years of touring and playing guitar, rested on her knees. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she breathed deeply as if trying to release a weight she’d been carrying for far too long.

“It’s weird,” she said after a while, her voice lower, like she was speaking to herself. “I never thought I’d find something like freedom here, with you.”

“Why not?”

She opened her eyes and looked at you again, this time with a small smile that didn’t quite erase the melancholy in her expression. “Because freedom is dangerous. It’s easy to get lost in it.”

As you looked at her, something in her posture seemed almost unreal, as if she wasn’t a real person but a carefully composed image, a character from some movie you didn’t even know you were acting in. The way her hair fell over her shoulders, the curve of her mouth as she exhaled the smoke; everything seemed designed for chaos, to entangle you in the mix of art and life that had always surrounded her.

You knew she wasn’t perfect. You knew the Billie everyone saw wasn’t the Billie who was now in front of you, barefoot and disheveled on the couch, but still, there were moments like this when you wondered if you could ever reach her level. Not in terms of fame or talent, but in that overwhelming presence she seemed to fill every space with.

“When you speak,” you thought, not daring to say it aloud, “it’s like everything around you is a movie, and I’m just trying to learn my lines.”

It wasn’t insecurity, not exactly, but there was something that made you question every little detail about yourself when you were with her. Like if you were a little prettier, a little more interesting, a little more something, you could fit better into the role she seemed to have written for you without realizing it.

“You know?” you began to say, breaking the silence without realizing you’d spoken. She looked at you with that intensity she always had, like her eyes could pierce you.

“What?”

“Sometimes I think that this, you and me… it’s too much to be real.” You lowered your gaze to your own hands, unsure how to finish the sentence. “Like, I don’t know, I’m waiting for something to ruin it.”

She studied you for a few seconds, her expression changing slightly, becoming a bit softer. “Do you think life is that hard?”

You didn’t know what to say.

“Because it’s not.” Billie leaned forward, her eyes locking onto yours. “It’s complicated, sure, but you don’t have to make it harder than it already is.”

“Easy for you to say.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but your voice betrayed something deeper.

“It’s not, really.” She leaned back against the couch, her tone softer, almost whispering. “But if you let things consume you, they’ll devour you. No one will take your soul unless you give it to them.”

Sounds logical, you thought. But it wasn’t that simple, not when you were sitting in front of someone who seemed to have it all while you were struggling with your own fears. “And if I’m not enough…”

“It’s not about that,” she interrupted, with a firmness you didn’t expect but needed. “It’s not about being enough for me or anyone. It’s you. And if you can’t see that, then it doesn’t matter what I see.” She had already stood up abruptly from the heat under the sharp lamp.

・❥・・❥・・❥・

The silence in the room was thick, almost palpable. Billie was sitting at the edge of the bed, her elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped together, staring at an invisible point on the floor. The soft light of the lamp created shadows on her face, accentuating the weight she seemed to carry on her shoulders.

You approached slowly, noticing how her fingers tensed at the sound of your steps. She didn’t look up, but when you sat beside her, her body leaned just slightly toward yours, as if seeking your closeness without daring to ask for it.

Her calloused hands now rested on her thighs, her knuckles white from gripping so tightly. You lifted one hand, touching hers carefully, and the ease with which she exhaled almost broke your heart. She didn’t say anything, but her fingers interlaced with yours, a silent anchor in a sea of chaotic thoughts.

You looked at her, waiting for her to speak, but she only closed her eyes for a moment, her lashes trembling as if she was fighting something she couldn’t put into words. Instead of speaking, her fingers brushed against yours more firmly, a small gesture but full of meaning.

Her other hand found your face, caressing your cheek with a clumsiness you hadn’t expected from someone so sure of herself. When she finally lifted her gaze, her eyes were a scribble of emotions: pain, regret, something that seemed like a plea.

“Don’t let this change you,” she murmured at last, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

Confusion crossed your face, but before you could ask, Billie leaned forward and rested her forehead against yours. The contact was gentle, almost reverent, as if she were afraid that one wrong move would break something.

Her lips moved, but the words got stuck in her throat. Instead, she let her actions speak. The way her hand traveled to the base of your neck, how her fingers traced the line of your collarbone, as if she were trying to memorize every detail.

When she finally spoke again, she didn’t look you in the eyes. “I didn’t want to lose what I was before this.”

A knot formed in your throat as you heard her, because you knew exactly what she meant. She, the woman who seemed to have everything, felt like she had nothing to give you except her flaws, the broken pieces she was trying to put together.

Billie lowered her gaze, as if embarrassed for having said too much. But her hands, which never stopped touching you, told another story. They wanted you to know she was there, that she always would be, even if she couldn’t say it with words. Her fingers grazed your skin with a mix of fear and need.

There was something in the way her eyes kept avoiding yours, as if looking too deeply would make her vulnerable, as if she feared you might see everything she was trying to hide.

Suddenly, she let go of you, but not to pull away. With a slow, deliberate movement, her hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers. There was no rush, no urgency; just a moment of pure connection, as if everything else had disappeared.

Her lips met yours with a delicacy you didn’t expect. It was a kiss full of meaning, a silent language that said everything she couldn’t express out loud. She held you as if you were something precious and fragile, but at the same time, her kiss was firm, sure, conveying a silent promise that she wouldn’t let you fall.

Her fingers gently buried themselves in your hair as she deepened the kiss, letting out a barely audible sigh against your lips. It was as if she was trying to etch you into her memory, as if she wanted to make sure that this moment, this instant, would be marked forever.

When she finally pulled away, it was slow, as if it hurt to let you go. Her eyes finally met yours, and what you saw there took your breath away: honesty, vulnerability, love.

“I don’t know how to say it,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “But I hope you can feel it.”

And you did. In every touch, every kiss, in the way her hands continued to touch you as if you were her only anchor.

Porque en ese momento no hacían falta palabras. Lo que compartían era algo que trascendía el lenguaje, algo que sólo se entendía a través de cada pequeño gesto y de un beso que, sin necesidad de hablar, lo decía todo.

"Esto es el cielo, lo que realmente quiero" Es la inocencia perdida

okay soo.. that was my first writing everr..the song deserved a damn interpretation

[oksana-moods]

All Too Well

Summary: Natasha tried to mend what's left broken. Because no matter what, she's the love of your life and she knows all too well.

A/N: It's been forever. This 5k piece felt like I was writing 300k, it was difficult, funny, hard and I miss doing this more often. I hope you guys like it and please, it be amazing for me to know your thoughts about it.

You can read it as One Too Many part 2 or as a single piece, it is up to you.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, mentions of death, alcohol, angst (you know how I am, I can't simply write people kissing without suffering before).

"Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place"

The gun pointing at your face barely meters away should be intimidating, but at this point no one would blame you for not caring anymore. And you didn’t even mean the last couple of days, no, your whole life had been a fight, a struggle, an act of survival after another, so the last few days were nothing but the same blur.

The gunpower inundated your nostrils and the pungent smell masqueraded the smell of blood that clung to your brain and you were sure you wouldn’t erase it even if you got out of your current establishment.

Your heightened senses were capable of decerning all the different blood samples available in your cell: yours and from other occupants that came before you, or the blood that belonged to some of your kidnappers, who’ve learned in the worst possible way that you were not to be underestimated.

Back to the gun, the man behind it kept enchanting the same questions and you wondered how long it would take for them to get tired of your silence or mock replies. A sharp pain in the back of your head made you look up to meet his eyes, another man behind you was forcefully pulling your hair down to force your head up and you were already tired of him doing this.

“Where are the others?” The man with the gun asked, patience waning thin. Good to know you were on the same page. “Where is Romanoff?”

A blooded grin made its way to your face after you spat on his shoe. “It’s funny you think I’ll tell you now after all you’ve put me through. Do you think I’m afraid of your bullet?” And you didn’t even mean the fact that you probably wouldn’t die if he decided to shoot anywhere else other than your head, but you did mean that you were not afraid of dying.

Actually, you were so tired that perhaps laying down cold wouldn’t be unwelcomed. There wouldn’t be any pain, your body wouldn’t try to heal only to get hurt again. You thought it would be refreshing.

Two steps and the man pressed the gun over your knee, and you already knew, his wicked grin grew wider when your body convulsed with pain even though you concealed your scream in muffled grunts by biting your lips so tide you tasted your own blood, again.

“Why don’t you make it easier for you? You tell me what I’ve asked, and I kill you fast.” He pulled a chair and got comfortable for he knew all too well you wouldn’t budge easy. “I promise you. One silver bullet in your temple. Fast. Easy.”

Your eyes flashed to his. Silver bullets were really affective against your healing skills and very few possessed this knowledge. Someone must’ve tipped him off and the idea stung way much more than the powder burning the flesh inside your knee.

Only two women knew your weakness. Well, your creators knew, of course, but they were not in condition of speaking anymore. Unless someone from this organization was capable of going to hell to have a chat and then return to the living world with this intel.

Your love for Yelena was something so natural and it grew so fast for she was just deranged as you were: uncapable of functioning as what people labeled as normal. You were kindred souls and you felt like you were twins separated somewhere along the road and considering both of your past, who actually knew?

After long nights during long missions, you confided in her this. You were scared of losing control because sometimes the beast inside you took over and your brain couldn’t always sway the instincts. So you handed her one silver bullet in case things went south, she was adamant in returning it to you but you asked her to keep it, for insurance.

And the other person was Natasha. You never knew how she learned this but when she recruited you many, many years ago she already knew. If the pain in your leg wasn’t so overwhelming, you could’ve laughed at the memory engulfing your mind’s eye.

Her tide catsuit adorned with nothing but her black widow symbol, swaying her hips and pretending she wasn’t scared of the woman seated in front of her. You remember how her fear smelled, a stark contrast to her pose. You recall her words, her smile, her flirtatious play all to convince you to use your skills to her so called greater good.

And before leaving, she boldly closed the distance between you and placed a silver bullet in your hand. You understood the message. You weren’t stupid. Later she sworn that she was the only one, at S.H.I.E.L.D. or within Avengers, to know your weakness and you believed her.

And this belief comes back to bite you in the ass.

Because you knew full well that Yelena would die, she would kill herself even, before telling someone your secret. But Natasha? You didn’t trust her anymore. She had done it before, and you knew it all too well. If you were to be honest, after one too many treasons, you didn’t care about another.

Or so you told yourself.

“Good luck.” You rasped out after a long time inside your own head.

The man tilted his head to the side and smiled that smile that told you he already knew what you would say. You would go further and say he was eager for it. “I think in the torture manual says I should tell you that I don’t enjoy this, but I’d be lying. We actually bet how long it will take for you to drop the act and start screaming.”

You bet no one thought it would be that fast. He stumped a knife down your thigh so fast and so hard you saw stars. You could feel the silver poisoning the skin and muscle where it was nested, and it burned like nothing else would.

Unfortunately for them, the apex in you was not used to be a prey and this injury was powerful enough to make your survival instincts kick in. It happened so fast it was a haze, one minute he was laughing, the other he was on the ground - lifeless, and just as the others came, they followed their leader – well, who you thought the leader was, at least.

Funnily, your countdown was wrong, or you were not the only one putting your captors down. As the blood ran free down your leg, your strength and capability of keeping fighting diminished. When a body collided with yours, it was a miracle you were still awake.

Her red hair framed her face perfectly, skin white as snow and her green orbs looked like there was an aurora borealis looking down at you as she nested you in her lap as you felt life slipping through your fingers - veins.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me.” Her voice was strange, as if speaking was a struggle and she reeked fear, but not the same you were used to, as if she was feeling a different type of fear, it was a strange concept, but you hated it, nonetheless. If these were your last moments breathing, you wanted her true smell. The one you knew all too well.

“Please, don’t you dare die. I’ve got you.” Her muffled words found your ear, but it was hard to even comprehend anything at all when her lips felt so cold in your forehead. “Heal. Why are you not healing?”

“Silver.” It was all you could say. It was all you had to say.

She frantically started yelling at someone, perhaps the comms, but before you could close your eyes for good, you saw a red blur and he was complaining about your weight.

Her giggle filled the room as the first sun lights announced the day had just begun, you looked at her alarmed, for it was definitely something new. “Are you mocking me?” Enable to conceal a smile yourself.

“I’m not.” She denied, but her laugh told you differently. Her freckles painted her angelical face and her eyes looked like they held the sun captive. And you. And she knew, all too well. “It’s just I can’t believe you still have this scar.”

Her index finger traced said scar as she looked at you expectantly, waiting for your explanation, even though she already knew.

“I didn’t know Wanda’s necklace was made of silver, okay.” You finally replied, pulling her close to you as if her weight meant nothing, right in that moment this action felt so normal, so homely that it ached. “I thought I could take it from that heated place for her, but it burned me as I did. It was silly.”

She giggled again, though muffled by your shoulder this time, there was something new in her eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “It was cute. Silly, but cute. That necklace belonged to her mother.”

“I know.” You were locked in her eyes, and she stared at you as if she was trying to reach your soul, then you felt her fingertip leaving the palm of your hand to intertwine your fingers as she let her eyes stray to look at both of your hands.

The feeling was overwhelming. You were aware of how fast your heart was beating, you could only hope she couldn’t feel or hear it, for in that moment, all you wanted was to engrave the sight of you, together, and you wish you could just have this forever. Have her forever.

“I’ve never felt this before.” Her brows were furrowed in a way that made you upset, but you wouldn’t let go of her hand for nothing in this world, even if it was to soothe the crinkles in her forehead. “I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, there was nothing that you could do but wait for your brain to register her words and meaning, for a whole minute you simply stared at her, trying to search for a catch or a joke but you found none. And she looked up at you so innocently that you found yourself believing in her.

“I thought-.” You tried, but she never let you finish your sentence.

“I know what I said.” She stopped you midsentence, but her voice was not stern, it was almost tired. “This is not what I feel anymore.” Again, her eyes found yours and the way they shone made your knees weak, luckily you were laying on her mattress.

Somehow, they conveyed so much of this feeling she had claimed she was not capable of nurturing that your stomach did somersaults. And right in that moment, you realized that perhaps silver could hurt you, but this woman was your true weakness.

Specially if she’s looking at you the way she was.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You whispered, it was terrifying saying again the three words that you were sure would make her fly away from this strange arrangement you found yourself in. Yet she didn’t.

“I know.” She confirmed after a while admiring your eyes as if she could read your mind. After deciding she was content with whatever she found, she leaned in and pecked your lips so tenderly it hurt.

Then, when she looked at you again you saw, from the small smirk growing in her lips, that she had gone back to play her prime character: the Black Widow.

“Let’s have a breakfast before the funeral, shall we?” As she got of the bad, you copied her movements going back to your own suitcase to find something comfortable as her voice broke the silence filling the room. “I never asked how you and Sharon became friends to the point you’d come to a funeral of her relative.”

The cleanliness of the room was the first thing you were aware of. In fact, you didn’t even realize you were awake, therefore alive, before the smell hit your nostrils. And with it, her scent.

The occasional up and down from her feet and bouncing leg was the only sound in the room except for the noise coming from the heart monitor over your head. She was anxious, that much was obvious even if you weren’t an enhanced being.

Mentally searching for your injuries and pain, you understood that whatever had happened with you, was all gone. Excluding the lingering pain in some specific places that you credited to silver induced wounds that would take way much more time to wear off.

However, considering the state you were in, whoever tended these wounds had operated a true miracle.

As you opened your eyes, you half expected bright lights, common to these hospital rooms to hurt your eyes, but you soon identified that the only source of light was a yellow bulb close to the door.

Natasha.

“Thanks for working the lights down.” You rasped out and stifled a giggle as she jumped from her chair by the wall and bolted to your bed side. The book previously nested between her hands now long forgotten on the floor.

The iron grip which she clutched your hand didn’t go amiss to you. “A week.” The sadness in her eyes was palpable. “A whole week blacked out.” She explained further but you didn’t need to know the details of how long you were sleeping or how many times your heart stopped at surgery.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Then it hit you, the same type of fear your nose caught when she found you in that facility, it was fear but not the one someone feels when they’re actively facing danger, but it was fear for someone else. Fear of losing someone.

Something stirred inside your heart, but it was something that you couldn’t dwell much longer, not, at least, in that moment.

“They had me, after you sent me as scout.” Your tone was flat, and her eyes widened a little at the bluntness of your accusation, though you were far from settling for little. “They knew about the silver.”

Her hold faltered, but your hand was still snuggled between hers. “What are you accusing me of?” She narrowed her eyes, but her green orbs were bright even in the poor light.

“Cynicism doesn’t suit you the way you think it does.” Before you could even pull back your hand, she completely let it go and got to her feet. “Look at my eyes and tell me that you actually didn’t let them get me, just to find their hideout.”

She had her back turned to you, acutely avoiding your gaze. “Look at me!” You demanded and she had the gall to look at you through her lashes, as if her seductive skills could help her now. You wouldn’t fall for that, and she knew it all too well.

“It wasn’t my intention for you to be captured and I never thought someone else would know about your weakness. I thought I was the only one alive to know.” She finally turned to you, eyes now darting around the floor as if it could grant her the answers she sought.

“Lena knows too.” You corrected her, but if she was surprised by your update, she never showed.

Shaking her head right to left as if to deny such possibility, she exclaimed. “She’d never do this to you.” It was funny that at least in this matter you agreed. “I think she loves you more than she loves me.” A sly smile escaped her lips and you had to restrain your heart from fluttering at the sight of it.

“I was waiting for your check-in. I went to your assigned coordinates, and I know I underestimated their numbers, but I would never let someone capture you.” Her feet dragged her back close to your bed but maintained some distance between you.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You shot back without missing a single beat, crossing your arms around your chest.

She sighed tiredly and looked down at the floor. You wouldn’t let her forget that she was the main cause for you to be locked in the Raft, well, her and your support for Steve when Ross tried to shove the Sokovian Accords down your throat, and solely because you shared his point of view.

After being controlled for most of your life by a group with shady intentions, you swore you’d never submit your loyalty and services to a third party again, even if it was a government group – specially a government group, actually, so only over your dead body you’d accept the Accords.

But when you came back to see if Natasha was fine, she had gone without thinking that you were left behind and in the care of Ross to be taken to the Raft with the others, without sparing a single thought to you.

“I’d never ever willingly put you in danger.” She said taking another step closer to you. “I have never mentioned to anyone about your secret, and I purposefully kept it out of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files.”

Her eyes kept darting from her hands to your eyes, never focusing, never staying too long. “Look, I know Yelena would never speak about it, but I wouldn’t either. And I didn’t, you must believe me!”

“I must?” Your eyebrows shot up so high so fast it hurt. “Well, you made it pretty damn hard for me to believe, don’t you think, Nat?” Your tone was hard, but you were not even speaking too loud.

Somehow, Natasha thought this hurt way much more.

“C’mon all I feel for you-” She tried to counter, but you wanted to swallow the lump stuck in your throat trying to choke you, so you cut her midsentence.

“Words, Natasha.” She found herself locked within your burning eyes. “I kept you as an oath, yet you hid me like another dirty secret. And all you’ve felt you kept hidden – buried – just as who you really are.”

After years thinking about how she lured and how she hurt you, you thought that maybe spatting what your relationship really was – a hidden lust, would make you feel better, would free yourself from her hold, but it didn’t.

After all, calling her unfair wouldn’t change how lonely she made you feel, how she took your happiness away whenever she drew herself back to her main character as she left you daydreaming about imaginary scenarios built in “what ifs”.

As your words found her ears, they settled heavily in her stomach. She knew she had massed up, she had hurt you many times, yet all she wanted was go back in time and erase all her wrongs and all the times she promised and never delivered.

She didn’t possess a time stone, though. There was nothing she could do about the past, however, she knew she couldn’t run from her mistakes anymore. If she wanted to start anew, she’d have to show she was different.

She wanted to, no, she needed you to understand that she was a whole new person because you’ve changed her. She didn’t want to hide anymore and for that she’d have to let go of her walls and be vulnerable. Truly vulnerable.

Funnily, she had played with her vulnerability before, being vulnerable just enough for people to lower their shields or masks so she could get what she wanted but this was something else entirely.

This time she wouldn’t act. She’d be vulnerable, at your mercy hoping she’d make it out alive on the other side. It was something new and it scared her, but losing you was scarier.

“I didn’t know you came back to check on Barton…” She tried weakly, knowing that this was a sore subject for the both of you. Each with your own views and reasons.

“I helped Clint, yes, but we went back looking for you. Yet, Ross was all we’ve found.” Your glare was cold, perhaps colder than ever. In the pit of her stomach, she knew she deserved it, she just wish you could move on with it.

“I was wrong, okay. Is that what you want to hear?” She snapped, though her voice was still in a low tone, eyes sad. And you hated it. “I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for not going after you that day at the airport or at the Raft.”

Her eyes fell once more to your hands, she slowly nursed them in hers and this action was so soft, so hesitantly as if she was afraid of you taking it away; afraid of you shutting her down once more.

“I wish I could do things differently, but I can’t, and for that I’m sorry. But I- I wish we could try move on from this. I still have feelings for you.” As words flowed through her tongue, you watched as eyes portrayed a sincerity that you rarely saw within those forest green orbs.

Usually, they hid her true feelings or performed like an actress twisting her truths mixed with pieces of lies and characters she created through life until she herself was unaware of what was true or not.

“I hear you, Natasha.” You rasped out after a long moment lost inside her beautiful eyes. “You speak of things as you did before, yet you never act on it.”

Her hands were warm, a muted invitation to go back to your dreams of having a life with her. The only person who never showed any sign of fear about your nature, that never once treated you like an animal.

She never treated you like a woman either.

“I want you to show me.” Your stone-cold eyes punctuated your feelings in the matter at hand. If she wanted to have you back, she’d have to show you she’s changed for words could only take her so far.

“I will.” She vowed and smiled softly, though her heart was shattering inside her chest. She made a career making people believe in whatever she wanted, she supposed she’d be able to make you believe in her heart.

How hard would that be?

Laugh filled the room after another not-so-funny Tony’s jokes and your head throbbed as the sound echoed inside your skull. Parties like these were always a torture for you, after all, your enhanced abilities of hearing and catching smells better than a normal person proved to be really awful in a place full of people with different perfumes, scents, chattering and loud music.

However, Tony himself forbid you from leaving tonight for this was his engagement party and it would be rude to Pepper if you left too early. Deciding that indulging him was easier than arguing with him, you found a safe corner and pretended to enjoy whatever was going on.

Though, your sharp eyes, even though you tried hard, always wandered after a certain redhead and you could all but clench your jaw every time you judged someone got too closer for your comfort.

Jealousy clawed its way through your throat and even the best bourbon from the bar couldn’t help it. You knew you had no right, no claim, especially after your last conversation. Still, your heart acted on its own and made sure you’d regret your words and resolve.

Considering that you were one drink from scooping lower than ever for her, you abandoned your glass on a random table and vanished to the balcony in hopes the fresh air could help your head and brain.

The cars down the streets ran from side to side completely unaware of your inner turmoil as you pathetically looked down searching for answers you wouldn’t find there.

In fact, as your answers arrived at the balcony, you realized that her hills clicking the marble floor announced her before her perfume invaded your nostrils in waves as she moved closer and closer towards you.

“Tired of mingling?” She asked as she lined her body at the railing. Her red hair bobbed around her ears in meticulously designed waves and her dark maroon dress hugged her curves in all the nice places.

She was flawless.

As always.

“I think I might’ve break Sam with incredible five words.” You gave her a sly smile that she retributed with a smirk and a fake gasp.

“This is basically a whole speech.” She clicked her tongue playfully. “I think you’ve been around Tony just too much.”

You snorted a laugh and she let a broad smile paint her lips, content with herself for making you ease the pained expression adorning your face the whole evening.

Uncertenty hugged you like a cold blanket as you pondered your next words. As if rolling the dices in a game you were sure you’d end up losing, you turned to her and spoke. “You’re really beautiful tonight, Nat.”

Your heart fluttered as she fought back a smile trying to win her lips and looked down as if she wasn’t expecting your praise. She genuinely looked flustered by your words.

“Thank you. You’re quite handsome yourself. Well, I already praised your choice of suit, earlier.” She turned her body so now she was fully looking at you and you tried to remember how to properly breath. However, it was as if the air was composed of her scent.

You were intoxicated.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused. “This is the first time we speak tonight.” You clarify. Truth be told you’ve been keeping a fair distance from her and funnily enough she didn’t make the effort to push you and your comfort space.

She did make it obvious that she was trying, though. She invited you out in front of people, she brought you coffee whenever you were reading in the garden in the morning or brought you a blanket when you were on the couch watching movies with Wanda.

Whenever you were called to a meeting, she worked the lights so it wouldn’t hurt your eyes that much. And, one day, she brought you the files they recovered from Hydra from the mission you were taken, and you both learned that one of your creators left behind a journal and there were a lot of dirty secrets down there. Including yours.

To be honest, she was really trying to show her true intentions, but you were still afraid that this was just for show, just a ploy for you to lower your guard and be disappointed after she return to her normal pattern of misleading.

However, the way she stood basking in the moon light looking at you like she was slowly sipped through the cracks of your determination of not giving in that easy.

Her soft smile was a sight to see, and you even forgot that you were waiting for her to reply. “Directly, yes. I sent a drink to you earlier.”

Then it clicked in your head. Your laugh was loud and very uncharacteristic of you, though Natasha simply stood there admiring your carefree stance, a rare occurrence.

Your mind traveled to a moment earlier that night when the waiter approached you with a drink in hand, stating that the lady had sent it to you complimenting your fine tailored suit. At the time, the way he vaguely waved in the direction of Agatha and other ladies, you thought that one of them had been the person.

Though if you thought harder about it, Natasha was at the bar in that moment, right behind said ladies.

“Now it made sense.” You grinned back at her and nodded your head softly. “Thank you for the compliment and the drink.”

“Of course.” She flashed on last smile and turned her body to admire the city bellow and you did the same. Though you found it hard to ignore her presence by your side. You could feel the heat emanating from her skin, her sweet scent still impregnating the air around you and you could hear her fast heartbeat. It was uncommon.

In a haste, you both turned towards each other and started to speak at the same time. A nervous laugh scaped your lips as you signaled for her to go on first. And she did.

She closed her eyes as one does when bracing for the impact, as if second-guessing her next step, but when she opened her eyes again, there was no doubt and no deceit. “I love you and it’s ruining my life not having you, knowing that I am the one who pushed you away.”

You were speechless by her blunt confession, specially because she never, ever, used the word love in such a direct sentence. She expressed her feelings before, yes, but always with an adore, in love with you once or twice, never this straight.

She took your silence as hesitancy and reached for your hand, she yearned for your touch and the closeness of the last weeks made her heart clench with longing. “I am asking for a chance to show you who I really am, and I, please, I know I’ve made mistakes, but I wish to make it up to you.”

Her eyes were pools of emotion and you had trouble in breathing with her so close now. “Please, let me love you the way you deserve, the way I should’ve since the very first time I kissed your lips.” Her free hand caressed your cheek in such a tender way that you felt your knees weak.

She was definitely your true weakness.

You brain was haywire, short-circuiting with the lack of air and the sudden increase in your heartbeats. There she was. The woman you felt like you could love forever, offering you what you always wanted: her heart. For real this time. Not the hide and seek games you’ve been playing in the past.

She promised and have been showing changes, however, if you were to be honest, all she’d have to do was to come at you and say hi. If you were to be honest, she would always have your heart at her mercy.

Unable to form words and knowing that your silence was unnerving for her, as you saw her brows furrowing, you decided to answer her differently as you brought your hand to her own cheek and guided her lips to meet yours.

Her lips were soft as they used to be, and you could feel her body melting into the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open when you broke the kiss and smiled softly at her. “I love you too, Nat.”

Smiling back at you, Natasha circled her arms behind your neck to pull you down for another kiss, and another. And another.

And you knew, all too well, that she wouldn’t stop soon.

taglist: @username23345; @afuckingshituniverse; @strangegardentaco; @waltermis (I know you didn't specifically asked to be tagged, but I am doing it, nonetheless, because if your rb - and because you sparked a fire in this. Thank you.)

[movingmusically]

Unscripted - Part 2

Original Request:

Can I request an austin one shot where austin and single and the female lead is not she is In an high profile relationship like tomdaya and they are happy and engaged but she and austin are co starring In a movie together and they fell in love

Word Count: 8,836

Masterlist

Part 1

The flight back home felt surreal, the stark contrast between the immersive world of the film and the polished, relentless pace of your everyday life almost jarring. As your car pulled up to the house you shared with Jack, a wave of guilt swept over you. This was your life, your future, and yet, for the first time, it felt like you didn’t quite belong in it.

Jack greeted you at the door with his signature easy smile, pulling you into a warm hug. “Welcome back,” he murmured against your hair, his hands firm on your back. The familiarity of his touch was grounding, but it also brought with it a weight you couldn’t ignore. You hugged him tighter, hoping the embrace would erase the unease that had taken root inside you.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping back and offering a small smile. “It’s good to be home.”

He helped you with your bags, asking about the shoot as you walked inside. You gave him the highlights—the beauty of Big Sur, the camaraderie of the cast and crew, the challenges of working without a script. You kept your answers vague, glossing over the depth of what the project had meant to you and avoiding any mention of Austin. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about the connection you’d built on set or the moments that still lingered, unbidden, in your mind.

For the first few days, things slipped into an easy rhythm. You and Jack ordered your favourite takeout, caught up on TV shows you’d missed, and stole quiet moments together in the calm of your shared home. It felt familiar, comforting even, but there was something underneath it all—a distance neither of you acknowledged but both seemed to feel.

The tension only surfaced when the topic of the wedding came up again during dinner one evening. Jack had been scrolling through photos on his phone, showing you images of grand venues with towering ceilings and sprawling gardens.

“What about this one?” he asked, holding the screen toward you. The estate was stunning, no doubt about it, but its grandeur made your stomach twist.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “But don’t you think it’s a bit… much?”

Jack frowned slightly but kept his tone light. “It’s a wedding. It’s supposed to be big, isn’t it? We’ve only got one shot at this—don’t you want to make it memorable?”

“I do,” you said softly, setting your fork down. “But memorable doesn’t have to mean hundreds of guests or some enormous venue. I’ve always imagined something smaller. Something more personal.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “Smaller, like what? A backyard barbecue?”

You let out a soft laugh, though the comment stung more than you cared to admit. “Not a barbecue, but something more like a celebration. Just the people closest to us, somewhere relaxed where we don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.”

Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I hear you. I do. But I think you’re underestimating how much people expect from us. We’ve got friends, family, colleagues—all of them are going to want to celebrate this with us. A small wedding just isn’t practical.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling heavily. “I know there’s a lot to consider, but I just don’t want us to lose sight of what this is about: us. Not everyone else.”

Jack nodded slowly, but his expression didn’t soften. “I’m not saying it’s all about everyone else, but they’re part of our lives too. We owe them something.”

The conversation ended there, but the knot in your stomach remained long after you’d cleared the dishes. Jack retreated to the living room to make a few work calls, and you found yourself staring out the kitchen window, the ring on your finger catching the faint glow of the streetlights outside. It wasn’t just the wedding. That much was clear.

The next weekend, you and Jack stepped out for brunch at a café in the heart of the city. The morning was crisp, the kind of autumn day that begged for warm drinks and quiet conversation. You tried to focus on the present, to enjoy the simplicity of being with Jack, but the weight of your unresolved feelings was still there.

The conversation lingered as you left the restaurant and walked hand in hand down the quiet street. You didn’t argue, but the difference in your visions for the wedding hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. You wanted to believe it was something you could compromise on, but deep down, you weren’t sure either of you would be entirely happy with the other’s version of your day.

In the distance you spotted the glint of a camera lens. Your stomach sank. Paparazzi.

Jack seemed unfazed, slipping his arm around your waist as you made your way down the street. “Just ignore them,” he said under his breath, his voice calm but firm.

You nodded, but the awareness of being watched made every step feel heavier. The cameras clicked furiously as you reached the car, the flashing lights momentarily blinding. You climbed inside quickly, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding as Jack started the engine.

The headlines came the next day. Pictures of you and Jack walking side by side, smiles faint but stiff, were plastered across tabloids with captions like “Trouble in Paradise?” and “Hollywood’s Golden Couple Looking Less Than Happy.”

Jack tossed one of the magazines onto the kitchen counter, his jaw tight. “Do they ever get tired of making stuff up?”

You glanced at the cover, your heart sinking. “It’s just noise,” you said, trying to dismiss it. “People will forget about it in a week.”

“Still,” he said, his tone sharper than usual. “It’s like they’re waiting for us to fail.”

“We’re not failing,” you said quickly, though the words felt more like a reassurance for yourself than for him.

Jack’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a breath. “I know. Sorry. It just gets to me sometimes.”

The cracks deepened over the following weeks. The conversation about the wedding remained unresolved, each new suggestion from Jack feeling like another reminder of how out of sync you were. But it wasn’t just the wedding—it was the way he talked about the future, about stepping back from acting to start a family.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, he brought it up again. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice steady. “Maybe after the wedding, we could take some time to really slow down. Focus on what matters. A family.”

You hesitated, your stomach tightening. “You mean… right away?”

“Why not?” he asked, turning to face you. “We’ve both been working nonstop for years. It feels like the right time.”

You stared at him, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” you said carefully. “There’s still so much I want to do.”

Jack frowned, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment. “Like what? You’re at the top of your game. What more do you need?”

“It’s not about needing more,” you said softly. “It’s about… not feeling like I’m done yet. There are roles I want to take, stories I want to tell. I’m not ready to step back—not yet.”

Jack leaned back, letting out a long breath. “I get that,” he said finally, though his tone was resigned. “But at some point, we have to figure out what’s next for us. We can’t just keep going like this forever.”

You nodded, but his words stayed with you long after the conversation ended. The growing distance between you felt insurmountable at times, and no matter how hard you tried to bridge it, the cracks only seemed to widen. You told yourself it was just a phase, that every couple went through rough patches, but deep down, you weren’t sure if that was true.

At night, as you lay beside Jack in bed, your thoughts wandered back to the set, to the quiet intensity of filming, to Austin. You pushed the memories down, but even as you closed your eyes, you couldn’t escape the feeling that the life you’d built was starting to feel like someone else’s.

*

The gala dinner was as glamorous as you’d expected—a glittering blend of industry titans, rising stars, and carefully curated opulence. The film was already generating buzz, and the event felt like a celebration of its success, even before it had premiered. You arrived with Jack, the two of you quickly swept into a swirl of handshakes, polite laughter, and clinking glasses.

Jack’s hand rested at your waist as you navigated the room together, his charm on full display as he chatted easily with producers and directors. You followed his lead, slipping into the polished rhythm you’d perfected over the years. But despite the familiar ease of it all, your thoughts kept straying to the possibility of seeing Austin.

It didn’t take long. You spotted him across the room, standing in a small circle of people, his laugh low and easy. He looked effortlessly put together in a tailored suit, his presence magnetic even in a room filled with celebrities. Your stomach tightened, a flicker of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress.

Jack noticed your attention shift and followed your gaze. “There’s Austin,” he said, his tone neutral but with a flicker of curiosity.

You nodded, your chest tightening slightly. “Yeah. Should we go say hi?”

“Why not?” Jack said, steering you through the crowd with his usual confidence.

Austin turned toward you as you approached, his expression softening with recognition. You offered him a small smile. “Hi,” you said, your voice warm despite the faint tension you felt.

“Hey,” Austin replied, his gaze flicking between you and Jack. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” Jack said, extending his hand. “Nice to actually get to talk this time. I think we only managed a quick hello when I visited the set.”

“Yeah, it was a busy day,” Austin agreed, shaking Jack’s hand. “It’s good to finally chat properly.”

Jack’s smile was easy, his tone friendly. “Y/N’s told me a lot about the project—it sounded like a really unique experience.”

“It was,” Austin said, his focus briefly shifting to you before returning to Jack. “Definitely one of the most challenging but rewarding projects I’ve ever worked on.”

“It’s a great team,” you added quickly, feeling the need to contribute something. “And Celeste really pushed us in ways I didn’t expect.”

Austin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, she has a way of doing that.”

There was a brief pause, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried a weight you couldn’t quite define. Jack’s arm rested casually at your back, his presence steady but unmistakable. You shifted slightly under the weight of both their gazes, your pulse quickening for reasons you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Well,” Jack said after a beat, his tone light. “We won’t keep you. I’m sure we’ll run into you again tonight.”

“Of course,” Austin replied, his voice easy. “Enjoy the event.”

“You too,” you said, your voice just barely steady as Jack began to guide you away.

As you walked through the crowd, Jack leaned in slightly, his tone casual. “He seems like a solid guy.”

“He is,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “Really professional.”

Jack nodded, his attention already shifting to the next conversation. But as much as you tried to refocus, you couldn’t shake the way Austin’s voice, his presence, lingered in your mind.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and carefully crafted smiles. Jack was in his element, charming everyone in his orbit, and you tried to match his energy. But every so often, you caught sight of Austin across the room, his presence like a magnet you couldn’t resist.

Eventually, you excused yourself, slipping out onto the terrace for some air. The cool night breeze was a welcome relief, and you leaned against the railing, letting the distant hum of the city settle your thoughts.

“You have a habit of escaping,” a familiar voice said, and you turned to see Austin standing a few feet away, a cigarette between his fingers.

“Only when I need to breathe,” you replied, your lips curving into a faint smile.

He stepped closer, his movements unhurried. There was a moment of silence, not awkward but heavy with something unspoken. You looked out over the city, the hum of distant traffic filling the space between you. Finally, he broke the silence.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, his voice quiet but warm.

“Good,” you said, the word feeling too small for everything you wanted to say. “Busy. You?”

“Same,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Feels like I haven’t stopped since we wrapped.”

You nodded, your mind flashing back to the last days of filming, the weight of everything you’d tried to leave behind pressing against your chest. “The film—it’s been getting great buzz,” you said, your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. “Celeste sent me some of the early edits. It’s… different. In a good way.”

“Different,” you echoed, the word catching in your throat. “That’s one way to describe it.”

He smiled faintly, and for a moment, it felt like you were back on set, caught in the strange, electric connection that had grown between you. His gaze lingered on you, searching, as though he could see the cracks you were trying so hard to hide.

“You’ve changed,” he said finally, his voice low. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but… you seem different.”

The words hit you like a jolt. You looked away, your fingers tightening around the stem of your champagne flute. “It’s been a busy few months,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

“Busy doesn’t change who you are,” he said, his tone gentle but certain. “But I guess it’s not my place to say.”

Your chest tightened, a swirl of emotions threatening to surface. “It’s complicated,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t press, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. When you turned back to him, his expression was soft, understanding, but there was something else in his eyes—a quiet longing that mirrored the ache you’d been fighting to ignore.

You didn’t notice you’d stepped closer until your shoulder almost brushed his. The warmth of him was a stark contrast to the cool night air, and the faint scent of his cologne sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you then, his gaze dipping to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes.

You stepped back quickly, your heart racing. “I should get back,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Jack will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. “Y/N.”

You hesitated, your hand on the door.

“I’m really glad we worked together,” he said, his words laced with quiet intensity. “I mean that.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and slipped back inside before the pull toward him could overwhelm you.

Back in the room, you found Jack deep in conversation with a producer, his easy charm on full display. He looked up as you approached, his smile widening as he reached for your hand. You let him pull you close, the warmth of his touch grounding you, even as the echoes of your conversation with Austin lingered in your mind.

The night wore on, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The space between you and Jack felt more pronounced, every laugh and touch feeling like an act you were performing for an audience. Across the room, you caught sight of Austin one last time. He was talking to someone, his expression relaxed but his eyes distant.

You looked away quickly, guilt and longing warring in your chest. Whatever had shifted between you and Austin, whatever spark still lingered, you knew you couldn’t let it consume you. But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t escape the feeling that something had been set in motion, something you weren’t sure you could stop.

The car ride home with Jack was quiet, the kind of silence that was comfortable only on the surface. Jack rested his hand on your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly drumming a rhythm that should have been soothing but only heightened your unease. Your gaze stayed fixed on the city lights streaking past the window, but your mind was elsewhere—back on the terrace, the way Austin’s gaze had lingered on yours, the weight of his words still pressing against your chest.

Jack glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’ve been quiet since we left,” he said, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

You forced a small smile. “Just tired,” you replied, your voice carefully neutral. “It’s been a long night.”

Jack nodded, his attention shifting back to the road. “It was a good night, though. You handled yourself brilliantly. Everyone loves you.”

“Thanks,” you said, the words feeling hollow in your mouth.

He didn’t press further, which you were grateful for, but as you pulled into the driveway, the tension in your chest only grew. You’d been holding onto too many feelings for too long, each one pulling you in a different direction, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep everything buried.

*

The living room was strewn with wedding magazines and loose papers, a small tablet perched on the coffee table displaying a sleek website for potential venues. Jack sat on the couch, his laptop balanced on his knee as he scrolled through an email chain with a wedding planner he’d found through a colleague. You sat cross-legged on the floor, an untouched cup of tea growing cold beside you.

It wasn’t exactly the wedding you’d imagined.

“I think the guest list is manageable now,” Jack said, his tone upbeat as he glanced at you over the screen of his laptop. “We’ve cut it down to about 120. That’s pretty small by Hollywood standards.”

You nodded, tracing patterns on the edge of the rug. “Yeah. Smaller,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

He frowned slightly, sensing your hesitation. “I know it’s not what you originally wanted,” he said, his voice softening. “But I think it’s a good middle ground, don’t you? It’s not the huge spectacle everyone expects, but it’s still special.”

You managed a small smile, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm. “It’s a compromise,” you said, echoing the words you’d told yourself over and over since the planning had started.

Jack set his laptop aside, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Hey,” he said gently, catching your gaze. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “It’s not… bad,” you said carefully. “It’s just… all of this—the guest lists, the menus, the colour palettes—it still feels like we’re planning something for everyone else, not for us.”

Jack exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But I want it to feel right, Y/N. For both of us. I’m trying to find that balance.”

“I know,” you said quickly, reaching for his hand. “And I appreciate it. I really do. I just… I never pictured something this formal. I always thought it would be small, intimate. Just us and the people closest to us.”

His fingers tightened around yours, his expression softening. “I want that too,” he said. “But I also want to celebrate this properly. I don’t want it to feel like we’re hiding.”

You nodded, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, though the words felt more like a reassurance for him than for yourself.

Jack smiled faintly, leaning back against the couch. “So, what about a date?” he asked, his tone shifting to something lighter. “We should lock something in, right?”

You reached for your phone, pulling up your calendar. “Let’s see…” you began, scrolling through the next few months. “I’ve got the Greta Gerwig project starting in a few weeks, and then there’s a press tour…”

Jack’s face shifted, his smile faltering. “Right. And I’ve got…” He trailed off, his expression tightening.

You looked up at him, your stomach twisting. “What?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I got the offer for the lead in that film I told you about. The one shooting in New Zealand.”

Your heart sank. “When?”

“In four months,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “It’s a three-month shoot.”

The words settled between you like a weight, the implications hitting you both at once.

“That’s…” you started, your voice catching. “That’s a big deal, Jack. You should do it.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I mean, I already said yes. It’s the kind of role I can’t turn down. But the timing…”

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

His eyes softened, but there was a flicker of doubt there that you couldn’t ignore. “Ok. You’ve got the press tour. And the new project. How long does that one run?”

“Two months,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But then there’s the post-production work. ADR, reshoots… It’s a lot.”

Jack leaned back, his expression heavy. “So we’re both about to disappear for most of the year.”

The truth of it settled over you both, the reality of your lives pulling you in opposite directions. You sat in silence for a long moment, the plans and compromises scattered around you feeling suddenly insignificant.

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the weary look in his eyes.

“We’re both busy,” he said finally, his voice quiet but heavy. “I get that. But sometimes it feels like we’re barely in this anymore. Like we’re just… going through the motions.”

Your throat tightened, the truth of his words hitting you like a blow. “I know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it too.”

He nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

Neither did you.

*

You’d just wrapped your latest project, a gritty drama that had demanded every ounce of your focus and energy. The long days on set had been a welcome distraction from the strained reality of your relationship with Jack. With him halfway across the world, the distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore. Calls had become shorter, text messages less frequent. When you did talk, it often felt like you were tiptoeing around something unspoken, both of you avoiding the cracks that seemed to widen with every passing day.

Throwing yourself into work had been your coping mechanism, and for a while, it had helped. But now, with the film behind you, there was no escape. The press tour for the improvisational project you’d filmed with Austin had arrived, and you’d thrown yourself into that instead, grateful for the busyness and the change of scenery.

It was during one of these interviews, seated side by side in a sleek hotel suite, that you felt the first real crack in your resolve. The journalist had asked a question about the improvisational nature of the film, and Austin’s response had been so earnest, so thoughtful, that you found yourself watching him with a mix of admiration and something deeper you didn’t want to name.

“It was all about trust,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “We had to rely on each other completely, and I think that shows in the final product.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on him for a moment too long before turning back to the journalist. “It was definitely one of the most intense but rewarding experiences of my career,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The interview moved on, the journalist’s questions shifting to lighter topics, but your mind lingered on Austin’s words. Trust. He’d said it so simply, but it carried so much weight. That trust had been the foundation of everything you’d built together on set, and you felt its echoes now, in the way he listened so attentively to the interviewer’s questions, the way he leaned toward you slightly as though his presence alone could steady you.

After the interview, as you stepped into the hallway, Austin fell into step beside you. “That went well,” he said, his tone casual but kind.

“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing up at him. “You’re good at this stuff.”

He smiled, his gaze warm. “So are you.”

It was such a small thing, but the way he said it made your chest tighten. There was no ulterior motive, no performance. Just sincerity. It was a quality you’d come to admire in him over the course of the shoot, but now, with everything so raw and strained in your personal life, it felt magnified.

As the tour continued, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just his looks, though that was part of it—the easy charm of his smile, the quiet intensity of his eyes, the way he carried himself with a confidence that never felt arrogant. But it was more than that. It was the way he treated everyone around him, from the journalists to the hotel staff to the fans who waited outside the press junkets for hours just for a moment with him.

He was kind. That was what struck you most. Kind in a way that felt rare, especially in an industry that so often rewarded the opposite. You watched the way he spoke to people, always present, always genuine, and you felt your chest tighten with something you were beginning to recognise but couldn’t admit.

There was a moment in the hotel lobby one evening, between events, when you saw him chatting with a fan. She was nervous, fumbling over her words, but he knelt slightly so they were at eye level, his tone gentle as he reassured her and took a photo. You watched from a distance, your heart aching in a way that felt both sweet and unbearable.

Later that night, as you sat in your hotel room scrolling through the day’s photos and interviews, you found yourself replaying small moments in your mind. The way Austin had touched your elbow to guide you out of a crowded room, the way his laugh had filled the car during a quiet drive between interviews, the way he’d looked at you during that panel discussion when you’d stumbled over a question, steadying you with just a glance.

You weren’t just attracted to him. You were falling for him.

The realisation hit you like a jolt, your chest tightening as you set your phone down and pressed your hands to your face. It was so much more than you’d let yourself acknowledge before. You didn’t just admire him, didn’t just appreciate his presence. You were in love with him.

And it wasn’t just the idea of him, either. It was the reality—the warmth of his kindness, the quiet strength of his support, the way he made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in so long.

You lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of it settled over you. The feelings you’d tried so hard to push down were impossible to ignore now, no matter how much guilt clawed at you. Jack’s name flickered through your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of shame that followed.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, the truth was there, undeniable. You loved Austin. And with every passing day, it was becoming harder to pretend you didn’t.

*

The press tour had been a whirlwind escape, a way to throw yourself into work and momentarily forget about the cracks that had started forming in your relationship with Jack. But now that you were home, the weight of reality settled heavily over you. The house was familiar, but it didn’t feel like home anymore—it felt like a place where unresolved tensions lingered in every room.

Jack was leaving in a few days, flying halfway across the world for six months. You’d barely had time to reconnect before his suitcase was back in the corner of the bedroom, half-packed and looming like a reminder of everything you hadn’t talked about.

Dinner that night was quiet, the clink of cutlery on plates the only sound. You could feel the tension between you like a physical presence, heavy and suffocating. Jack was the first to break the silence.

“Have you thought any more about the wedding?” he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant.

You sighed softly, setting your fork down. “I have,” you said, glancing up at him. “And I think we’ve done a good job meeting in the middle. It’s bigger than I wanted, smaller than you did… but it still doesn’t feel like me, Jack. I’m trying to get on board with it, but…”

“But you’re not,” he finished for you, his tone tinged with frustration. “Y/N, I get that this isn’t your dream wedding, but it’s not exactly mine either. We’ve both compromised. Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be about?”

“It is,” you said quickly, your voice cracking slightly. “And I’m grateful for that. But it’s not just the wedding, Jack. It’s… everything.”

His brow furrowed, his fork paused mid-air. “What do you mean, ‘everything’?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I mean, the wedding has made me realise how different our visions for the future are. It’s not just about the size of the guest list or the colour palette. It’s about what happens after. You’re ready to settle down, to start a family, and I… I’m not.”

Jack’s fork clattered onto his plate, the sound sharp and jarring. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You said you wanted that too—just not right away.”

“I do want it,” you said, your eyes welling with tears. “But I don’t know when, Jack. And every time we talk about the wedding, it feels like this countdown to a life I’m not ready for yet. You’re ready to step back, but I’m just getting started. There are still roles I want to take, things I want to do. I can’t give that up—not yet.”

He stared at you, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m asking you to find a way for both of us to have what we want. Isn’t that the whole point of being together?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now. “It feels like we’re on two completely different paths, Jack. You want to slow down, start a family, have this settled life. And I feel like I’m barely getting started. I don’t know how to make those paths line up.”

His shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So what are you saying? That this isn’t going to work?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m just… scared. Scared that we’ll keep trying to force this and end up resenting each other. Scared that one of us will always feel like we gave up too much.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I don’t know how to keep us together when it feels like we’re falling apart.”

The admission hit you like a blow, and you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this. Every time we try to talk about it, it feels like we’re just going in circles.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his frustration. “I love you,” he said simply, the weight of the words almost too much to bear.

“I love you too,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “But sometimes… sometimes love isn’t enough.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything you couldn’t say. Jack’s hand tightened around yours for a moment before he pulled away, standing and pacing the length of the dining room.

“Maybe we’re trying too hard to hold onto something that isn’t working anymore,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, your heart breaking even as you acknowledged the truth of his words. “Maybe we are.”

He turned back to you, his eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t want us to hate each other,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want us to turn into something we’re not.”

You stood, closing the distance between you, and wrapped your arms around him. He held you tightly, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “I wanted this to work so badly.”

“I know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “I did too.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet tears and whispered goodbyes. You sat together on the couch, your hands entwined, saying everything you needed to say even as your hearts broke. There was no anger, no blame, just the quiet understanding of two people who loved each other deeply but couldn’t make it work.

When Jack left a few days later, his suitcase packed and waiting by the door, he turned to you one last time. “I hope you find everything you’re looking for,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “You too,” you managed, the words barely audible.

As his car disappeared down the street, you stood in the doorway, tears streaming down your face. The house felt impossibly quiet when you stepped back inside, the echoes of your life together lingering in every corner.

But even through the pain, there was a small, fragile sense of relief. You’d made the right decision—painful as it was—and now, for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that the path ahead might hold something new, something true.

*

The awards ceremony buzzed with the kind of electric energy only Hollywood could generate. The film had been nominated for multiple categories, including Best Picture, and the stakes felt impossibly high. You hadn’t attended an event like this in months—your first red carpet since the breakup—and the thought of facing the cameras, the questions, and the inevitable whispers made your stomach twist with nerves.

But tonight wasn’t about you. It was about the film, about the months of work that had pushed you to your emotional limits and left you forever changed. You’d spent the afternoon carefully preparing—your team perfecting every detail of your look until you finally felt like someone ready to step back into the spotlight. The gown you wore was sleek and understated, a shimmering black that caught the light just enough to feel glamorous without being ostentatious. It was a deliberate choice: elegant, confident, but nothing that screamed look at me.

The red carpet was as overwhelming as you remembered. Flashes exploded in bursts, reporters called out your name, and the cacophony of voices blurred into white noise. You smiled for the cameras, answering questions with poise, but the effort of it all left you breathless by the time you made it inside.

The venue was grand, its high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the sea of perfectly dressed attendees. You navigated the room with the same grace you’d worn on the red carpet, exchanging polite smiles and making small talk as you slowly made your way to your table. The cast and crew had been seated together, a mix of familiar faces and new additions filling the space with laughter and quiet anticipation.

Austin was already at his seat. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up with an easy, warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, rising slightly from his chair. “You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, managing a smile that didn’t quite mask your nerves.

As you slipped into your seat a few chairs away from him, the rest of the table began to fill with the familiar faces of the production team. Celeste arrived shortly after, her energy as magnetic as ever, her soft grey gown a striking complement to her usual unassuming brilliance.

The ceremony began, and as the awards were announced, the tension in the room began to build. When the film won its first award for Best Sound Design, the table erupted into cheers, Celeste clapping exuberantly before raising her glass in a small toast to the sound team.

Between awards, the conversation at the table was lively, punctuated with laughter and shared memories. Celeste turned to you and Austin at one point, her expression softening as she placed a hand lightly on your arm.

“I’m so proud of both of you,” she said earnestly. “This film… it wouldn’t be what it is without the trust and vulnerability you brought to it. You carried so much of its heart, and I hope you know how extraordinary that is.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, her words hitting you harder than you expected. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “That means everything coming from you.”

Austin, seated across from you, nodded, his voice equally sincere. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked on something that felt this… real. You pushed us in ways I didn’t know were possible.”

Celeste smiled warmly, her gaze darting between the two of you. “That’s what makes it so special. It’s rare to capture something so raw, so alive. I’ll always be grateful to you both for taking that leap.”

The conversation lingered in your mind long after Celeste had turned to speak with someone else. You stole a glance at Austin, finding him already watching you. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, and you felt a flicker of the trust that had defined your work together.

As the evening progressed, the film continued its winning streak, culminating in the announcement of Best Picture. When the title was called, the entire table erupted into cheers, a whirlwind of applause and celebration. You found yourself pulled into a series of hugs, but when Austin wrapped his arms around you, the moment felt different—longer, steadier, as if grounding you amidst the chaos.

“We did it,” he murmured, his voice warm against your ear.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. “We really did.”

The applause and speeches blurred into a wave of euphoria, the weight of the achievement sinking in as you stood together on stage with the rest of the cast and crew. The moment felt surreal, a culmination of months of work and emotion condensed into a few fleeting minutes.

The after-party was held in an opulent ballroom, the perfect backdrop for the industry elite to unwind after the ceremony. You floated between groups, a glass of champagne in hand, the glow of the night still warming your chest. The congratulations from colleagues and acquaintances were plentiful, and you did your best to accept them graciously, though the noise of the room felt overwhelming at times.

You spotted Austin near the bar, laughing with a few of the cast members. He caught your eye briefly and gave you a small wave, but before you could make your way over, another familiar face approached.

“Y/N,” came a voice, rich with warmth and mischief. It was Sophie, one of your co-stars from a previous project. She looked stunning, as always, her emerald gown shimmering as she leaned in for a quick hug. “You’re glowing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s been… a lot.”

“I can imagine,” she said, her tone dropping slightly. “Especially after everything with Jack. I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but… are you okay? I mean, it must be hard seeing the headlines and still being so put together.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you managed to maintain your composure. “I’m fine,” you said, the practiced answer coming easily. “It’s been a while now.”

Sophie nodded, her expression softening. “Well, for what it’s worth, you look incredible. And you’ve got so much going for you—this film, all these awards… you don’t need anyone to complete you.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” you said, your smile genuine but small. “I appreciate it.”

She gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before disappearing back into the crowd. You turned away, exhaling quietly as you moved toward a quieter corner of the room.

“Y/N,” Austin’s voice came from behind you, soft but steady. You turned to see him standing there, his expression tinged with concern. “Are you okay? I saw Sophie talking to you.”

You nodded quickly, though your throat felt tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. She just brought up Jack, and it… caught me off guard.”

Austin hesitated, his hands slipping into the pockets of his tuxedo trousers. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up,” he said carefully. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

You shook your head, managing a small smile. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just… a little strange sometimes, hearing other people talk about it like it’s still fresh.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze warm and steady. “If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

The simplicity of his words, the quiet sincerity in his tone, made your chest tighten. “Thank you,” you said softly. “But I think I’m finally starting to move forward.”

His smile was faint but understanding, and the two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. It felt natural, easy—like slipping back into a rhythm you hadn’t realised you’d missed.

The energy of the party shifted as the hours wore on. The initial rush of excitement mellowed into a relaxed, almost intimate atmosphere. The room was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the low hum of conversations that had become more personal as the night stretched on.

You found yourself gravitating toward Austin more and more, drawn by the calm he seemed to exude in contrast to the buzz of the crowd. The two of you had settled into a quiet corner of the room, where the chatter softened to a gentle backdrop and the lighting felt warm and forgiving.

“This is nice,” you said, leaning back against the plush cushions of the seating area. Your shoes were long abandoned, and you’d curled your legs beneath you. The champagne flute in your hand was still half-full, but you weren’t in a rush to finish it. “Being able to just… be, without a camera in my face or a question about my personal life.”

Austin chuckled softly, his posture as relaxed as yours. “It’s rare, isn’t it? These moments where you don’t have to perform for anyone.”

“Rare and precious,” you agreed, your gaze drifting over the room before settling back on him. “I’ve missed this—the quiet moments.”

He nodded, his smile soft. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like the only time you can really breathe is when the spotlight moves to someone else.”

For a while, the conversation meandered through safe, familiar territory—funny stories from the press tour, the chaos of awards season, and lighthearted jokes about how Celeste had probably orchestrated her own victory dance when the film won Best Picture. But as the noise of the party faded further into the background, the space between you shifted.

The way he looked at you felt different—softer, warmer, yet somehow more intense. You found yourself leaning in slightly, as though drawn to him without even realising it. His hand rested on the arm of the couch, fingers brushing against the fabric, and you resisted the sudden, irrational urge to reach out and touch them.

“Austin,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his name on your lips made your chest tighten. “Can I tell you something?”

His gaze flicked to yours, the easy smile on his face fading into something more serious. “Of course.”

You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat. But the look in his eyes—steady, open, and utterly patient—was enough to push you forward.

“Being around you tonight,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “it feels… easy. Like I can breathe again. And I didn’t realise how much I needed that until now.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but his expression was full of understanding. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said softly. “You deserve to feel at ease.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem of your glass. “It’s not just tonight, though. It’s… you. It’s how you are, the way you make everything feel so… uncomplicated, even when it’s not. You’re just… so good, with everyone. And with me.”

The confession hung between you, the air growing heavier with each passing second. His lips parted slightly, his eyes searching yours, but he didn’t speak right away. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the vulnerability of the moment threatening to overwhelm you.

“I don’t know when it happened,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper now. “But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing you as just a friend. And I’ve been trying so hard to push it down because it’s messy, and it’s not fair, and I’m scared of what it means. But I can’t keep pretending it’s not there.”

Austin exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as though some invisible weight had been lifted. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I think I’ve always seen you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw honesty in them hitting you like a wave. “I thought it was just me,” you admitted, a faint laugh escaping you. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing. It’s never been nothing.”

His hand shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers brushing yours where they rested on the cushion between you. The touch was so light it could have been accidental, but the way his gaze lingered on yours told you it wasn’t.

“It’s not nothing,” he said softly, his voice steady. “But I don’t want to rush you, or complicate things more than they already are.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly, your heart pounding. “Austin, you’re not making things harder. If anything, you’re the only thing that’s been making sense lately.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavily in the space between you. His fingers brushed yours again, more deliberately this time, and your breath caught as the warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Out of here? Like… now?”

He smiled faintly, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “Just for some air. No cameras, no crowd. Just us.”

Your pulse quickened at the suggestion, but you found yourself nodding before you’d even fully processed the question. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I’d like that.”

The courtyard was quiet, the soft glow of string lights above casting warm pools of light onto the cobblestones. A faint breeze rustled the leaves of the ivy climbing the walls, and the gentle trickle of the fountain filled the silence. You let out a slow breath, trying to ground yourself, but your heart was racing, every nerve in your body alive with the weight of what had just been said.

Austin stood close, his hands still in his pockets, like he was holding himself back. His gaze hadn’t left you since you’d stepped outside, steady and searching, his expression open in a way that made your chest ache.

“This feels…” He paused, his voice low, unsure. “It feels like we’re finally being honest.”

You nodded, your fingers gripping the edge of the wrought-iron bench beside you for balance. “I think we are,” you said softly. “And it’s terrifying.”

He let out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Terrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You smiled faintly, the tension between you shifting, charged but no longer stifling. He took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

His hand lifted slightly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before brushing against yours. The faint touch sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching. Your gaze flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and the unspoken question hanging in the air passed between you, heavy and certain.

You didn’t wait for him to close the gap. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you slid your arms around his neck, your fingers threading into the soft waves at the nape of his neck. His breath caught, but he didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer as your lips met.

The kiss started slow, tentative, like the first notes of a song you’d been waiting to hear. His lips were soft, warm, moving against yours in a way that felt both careful and electric. You tightened your hold on him, your fingers brushing the base of his hairline, and he made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, almost like a sigh.

As the kiss deepened, you caught the faint taste of champagne on his lips, the sweetness mingling with the warmth of his breath. His tongue brushed against yours, tentative at first, before the kiss grew bolder, the restraint between you giving way to something more urgent. A soft whimper escaped you, and his hands tightened at your waist, grounding you, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you.

Your body melted against his, your heart pounding as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The world around you—the fountain, the courtyard, the muffled sounds of the party inside—faded entirely. All that remained was the feel of him, the way his tongue explored yours, the gentle scrape of his teeth on your bottom lip as he broke the kiss just enough to catch his breath before diving back in.

His hands slid from your waist to your back, his fingertips pressing into the fabric of your dress like he couldn’t bear to let you go. You felt his hair between your fingers, soft and slightly mussed, and the quiet intimacy of the moment made your chest tighten.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless, your lips tingling. His hands stayed on your back, holding you close as his thumb traced small, soothing circles just below your shoulder blade.

“You taste like champagne,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“So do you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “And strawberries.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said quietly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “For so long.”

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rushing through you—relief, longing, and something deeper you weren’t ready to name. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I just didn’t know how much until now.”

His hands shifted to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly across your cheekbones. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, his tone steady despite the faint shake in his hands. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, your lips brushing his in a soft, almost tentative kiss. It wasn’t urgent this time, but lingering, filled with quiet promises neither of you needed to say aloud. When you pulled back, you felt steadier, lighter, like the weight you’d been carrying for months had finally started to lift.

In the soft glow of the courtyard, his gaze held yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe. Whatever happened next, you weren’t alone in it. Not anymore.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - part three - true blue

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [4.1k] warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You didn’t want to – really you didn’t. The idea of you and Rafe being alone at a spot – your spot – a place, the place, that you hadn’t shared in close to two years was suffocating to say the least. You have continuously pressed replay on all the world’s worst scenarios; all the things that could go horribly wrong, that would surely break your heart into a million pieces all over again. Your feet feel clucky as they trudge through the sand and like the water that meets the land on the other side, you feel rushed into you; like the waves of a tsunami are crashing against the wall you’ve placed around your heart, the barriers are so close to breaking and they do as soon as you see him. He’s sitting, just past a sand dune, his shirt has been discarded and his hair is wet. 

“Hey, hot shot – you've been swimming without me?” 

You ask with a forced cheek. He only responds with his signature smirk. It was quiet, awkward for a moment. You couldn’t help but feel like you were being punked as you sat down beside him, his feet digging holes in the sand. You couldn’t remember the last time the notion of him being this close had crossed your mind or even seemed within reach. Which probed your next question to the boy sitting next to you. 

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?”

He questioned, with a smile on his face. 

“Can you tell me now?” 

You asked anxiously, ready for the blow of what you knew was coming – he was going to tell you why he left and you were sure that it was because of you after all. That’s the only thing that made sense in your brain. You watch him anxiously, intently as he shuffles, bringing his hand up to his hair to swoop his long locks out of his face and behind his ears. 

“Yeah, I guess I owe you that don’t I, pretty girl?” 

You’re on edge as you hear your old namesake leave his lips. He moves his hands behind him, leaning back into the sand. His skin feels hot against it, he notes. He swallows thickly and opens his mouth to speak. 

“You know I was different after my mom died, right?” 

You’re taken aback by his question – of course you know. She was the fucking sun and he’s just fucking like her; his cheeks and eyes – they belong to her. He belonged to her and it physically pains you to see him lose it after she’s passed away. You remember it all but mostly the way the bright left the blue hue of his eyes in the same moment the breath left her body. It makes your bones hurt to think about it still. 

“Yeah – how could I forget? I was too, we all were.” 

You said quickly. 

“I kept it well hidden then – until I couldn’t anymore, until I didn’t have a choice.” 

He’d replayed how he was going to tell you in his head over and over, over the last two years and finally came to the conclusion that he never ever would. But, now – at the prospect of having you within his reach again, he’s sure he’s going to spill his guts any moment. 

“Can you spit it out, drama queen?” 

You said with annoyance. So he blurted it out – rather frantically. 

“I was on drugs, okay!” 

He shouted. There was silence for a moment, you – too shell shocked to reply. 

“Look – I know you’re perfect and you’ve never done anything wrong in your life, okay? I’m sorry.” 

His eyes go dull as he braces himself for your judgemental glare. 

“What?” 

You ask in a too small voice. He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet for a moment. 

“I was on drugs. Nobody knew. Then, I owed Barry a massive amount of money and he knew I loved you more than anyone, alright? So I had to cut ties.” 

He said very matter-of-factly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You whispered and the ocean breeze made him suddenly cold, or maybe your tone of voice sent a chill up his spine. He’s truly not sure which. 

“What do you have to be sorry about, y/n?” 

He asked confusedly. 

“Not being enough – not being good enough for you to come to me and tell me the truth, that you didn’t feel like you could come to me.” 

The crack in your voice as you finished talking cut him straight to his core.     

“Pretty girl, it’s not like that, okay? I was trying to protect you.” 

Again, there was silence for a little while before either of you spoke. Rafe was trying to find the words; the ones to make you understand that you weren’t to blame. 

“You’re not messing with me, right?”

You asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?” 

He questioned, confusedly. 

“I mean, you actually want to be near me again? You’re not messing with me?” 

You asked innocently, feeling far too insecure for his answer to be anything other than yes. 

“Of course, I want to be near you. I never wanted to stop being near you. It was just easier to cut everyone out than to explain my pain to someone else. I didn’t want to face all the disappointment either.” 

You swallowed thickly and he noticed. 

“I’m sorry. I always just assumed it was me, that I had done something.” 

You whispered, almost inaudibly. But, he heard you, loud and clear. 

“What? What could you possibly have done?” 

He asked incredulously. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

You looked down at your feet, afraid of what he was going to say next, not wanting this intimacy with him to become foreign and far off again. He gently lifted your chin so your eyes could meet his. 

“You never did anything wrong and this is not a game. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

He reassured you gently. 

“I appreciate you reassuring me, but it’s going to take a lot more than words for me to trust you again and I think you know that.” 

You replied, giving him the kindest smile you could muster up. It wasn’t your intention to be rude or mean to him, you just needed him to know where you stood. 

“I know. I’m sorry that I broke your trust, but I hope you know I’m going to spend every day trying to make things right between us.” 

“Okay, Cameron.”

You smiled nudging his shoulder. You made your way back to the parking lot with Rafe, not long after the conversation fizzled out. 

“Well, I think I’m gonna head home. This was fun.” 

You said with a sweet smile. 

“Let me drive you, I know you walked, you always walk here.”  

Rafe spoke, excitement in his voice. 

“Okay.” 

You agreed to his idea, smiling kindly his way, following him to the truck you had made your home ever since he had gotten his license. He was the first of the two of you to be able to drive and you had taken full advantage of that, waiting for him after football practices and in the early morning so he could cart you everywhere you needed to go. That was the first thing you missed when he had left you - the intimate car rides, where you experienced a version of Rafe that no one else got to. He opened the door for you, ushering you into the passenger seat and closing it once he made sure you were inside and comfortable. Making his way around to the driver’s side, he took his keys out of his pocket and climbed in, starting the truck. The engine roared, sending vibrations through your spine. It felt euphoric to be here, alone with him. Which was something you had dreamed about for so long. He pulled out of the beach parking lot, hands steady on the wheel, and began the trek to his neighborhood. Tannyhill had become your second home over the years, whether it was play dates with Rafe when you were six or trying on clothes with Sarah when you were fifteen, the Camerons were your family and you were thankful that your favorite one was seated next to you, a backward baseball cap sitting on his head and strong arms fixed on the wheel. You’d never get over the view. 

“Y/N?”

He spoke your name with a question in mind. 

“Yeah?”

You smiled in his direction. 

“Would you wanna come to dinner tomorrow at Tannyhill?”

He asked gently. 

“Sure, you know I never pass up Rose’s cooking! What’s the occasion?” 

You questioned with a giggle, it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Just having you back, I guess.” 

He smiled sheepishly. 

“That’s sweet, Rafe.” 

You spoke softly, the blush coating your freckled cheeks. 

“Your parents are going to be there, so I figured you could just join them and we can have a big family dinner.” 

“Why are my parents going to be there?”

You questioned, confused at his comment. 

“Uh, Ward said he and your dad are working on some big business project or something.” 

He replied, not really knowing the answer to what you were asking. He had no idea what the two men were up to. 

“Ah, okay. Sure, Rafe, I’d love to come. How fancy do I have to dress, 1-10 on the fancy scale?” 

The laugh that escaped his lungs was boisterous. You and Rafe had created the fancy scale after you got bitched out by your dad’s for not dressing appropriately for Midsummer’s in the eighth grade and ever since you always warned each other of the fancy level parties or dinners would be. 

“A solid 5.” 

He retorted a laugh ever-present on his lips. He forgot how much you made him laugh and how good it felt. He was brought out of his thoughts as he pulled into the driveway, spotting your car sitting right next to your dad’s. 

“This has been fun! I missed you.” 

You spoke softly and a smile danced across Rafe’s features. 

“I missed you too, Y/N.” 

Your eyes studied his face, looking for any inkling of deception. There were none, at least not that you could see. His eyes met yours, locking in on your face and not looking away. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do. Having his full attention was not something you were used to anymore. 

“Thank you, Rafe. I seriously had a really good time tonight. We will do a movie night soon.” 

“Of course, you’re still my favorite girl.” 

He smiled kindly, ushering you over to your front door, lingering for moments longer than he should have, but not wanting to let you out of your sight. 

- 

Your phone rang early the next morning and as you groaned loudly, willing whoever was making your phone ring at 7 am to die, you read the contact. It was Topper. Your sluggish fingers slowly but surely slid across the screen to see what in God’s name your best friend wanted this early. 

“H-hello?”

You grumbled. 

“Wake your ass up!” 

Topper yelled into the phone. 

“T-top. I’m about three seconds from killing you. Why are you screaming into my phone so early?” 

You questioned with annoyance. 

“Get up and get dressed. We’re outside your house.” 

He said plainly. 

“Who’s we? And for what? It’s fucking 7 am?!” 

“Don’t be grumpy, princess. We just want to spend the day with your sexy little self.” 

Kelce interjected. 

“Kelce, please shut up. I’m not awake enough for your bullshit attempts at flirting with me.” 

You grumbled with a sneer behind that phone that he couldn’t see. 

“Damn, you’re a spitfire today!” 

Topper exclaimed, laughing. 

“I was up late, okay? Jesus Christ.” 

You couldn’t believe he was being so mean to you this early in the day. 

“Okay, well get up, get dressed and pack insulin and some snacks. We’re going to be gone all day.” 

He replied. 

“Top, I can’t. I have this dinner with Rafe tonight, I can’t be gone all day.” 

You were nervous to be saying anything to Topper about it at all, he knew your history with Rafe better than anyone. But, you knew you had to tell him the truth. 

“Listen, idiot, Rafe is with us. So, come on. We’ll have you both back at Tannyhill in time for your dinner, so either pack a dress or wear one. You’re not missing this.” 

You rolled your eyes, but your heart leapt at hearing you were going to spend the day with Rafe by your side whether it was in a group setting or not. 

“Fine, I’m coming, Topper! Jesus.” 

You said, feigning annoyance. 

“Told you she’s not a morning person.”

Rafe interjected, giggling. 

You grinned to yourself, realizing you were going to get to spend an entire day and night with Rafe. Scurrying out of bed, you searched through your closet in a hurry and settled on wearing a baby blue sundress with white polka dots that Rafe got you for your birthday the summer before you started high school. He always said that baby blue was your color. You slid it on quickly, pairing it with white platform sneakers and some dainty gold jewelry. You fluffed your hair and quickly packed your insulin after changing your insulin pump site and choosing a new area of your stomach to plunge the needle into. You ran through the kitchen, grabbing a few snacks and some juice to throw in your bag. Before walking out the door to Topper’s jeep, you stopped, took a breath, and smoothed your dress and hair before stepping out of the house and opening the back passenger door, hopping in, to be met with a very tired Rafe Cameron. 

“Hey, sweet cheeks! Are you done being an asshole? I need my morning kiss.” 

Kelce gave you a sly smirk and Rafe chuckled to himself, knowing pushing your buttons this early was not a good idea. 

“Kelceo, Fuck off!” 

You exclaimed with a growl, letting him know you weren’t in the mood. 

“Fine, I’ll chill. Can you blame me? Look at that dress.” 

He continued his train of putting his foot in his mouth. 

“Kelce, cool it, man.” 

Rafe spoke, his tone laced with warning. His protective nature made you smile. 

“So, what’s so important that you drug me out of bed at 7 am on a Saturday?” 

You questioned Topper. 

“My mom set us up on a tour of UNC like months ago and I forgot to tell you until this morning.” 

He replied nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t absolutely unhinged to let you know the morning of – in a way that only Topper knows how. 

“Topper, I’m going to kill you.” 

You muttered. You truly couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday, your three favorite boys, and a four-hour-long road trip. Truthfully, what could go wrong? 

You were brought out of your thoughts by Rafe’s hand touching your elbow. 

“Y/N?”

He was saying your name in question again. 

“Sorry, I was zoned out. What’s up?” 

You asked. 

“Have you eaten yet?” 

He asked in a gentle, hushed tone not wanting to draw everyone's attention to the two of you. 

“No.” 

You replied just as quietly. 

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I read that being up on your feet all day can be hard on your body.” 

You were shell shocked for just a second – he cared enough to read about what your life is like?

“You’ve been reading about diabetes?”

You questioned. 

“Of course I have, you’re my favorite girl.” 

He said it again. 

“Thanks, Rafe. That’s so sweet.” 

He smiled in response and watched as you took the banana out of your bag and began to eat it. When you finished, Topper was pulling into a gas station and asked you to come in with him to pick out some snacks while Rafe and Kelce pumped gas. As you made your way inside, rummaging through the aisles of various snacks, Topper began the inevitable best friend questioning that you knew was bound to happen eventually. 

“So, you and Cameron, huh?”

He teased, knowing your history of being in love with him since you were six. 

“I don’t think he feels that way. I’m just happy to have him back.” 

You gave Topper a kind smile. 

“So, what happened? I mean was there a conversation? Did he at least apologize?” 

“Yeah, Top. He did.” 

You said, matter-of-factly. 

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me everything right now, I’m going to fucking combust.” 

He said with urgency as he giggled. 

“Okay, okay. Jesus! So, we met up at our spot the day after the party and he told me the truth. I have a feeling that it’s not all of it, but he seemed genuine and i’m assuming it’ll all come out in layers over time.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

He questioned with curiosity. 

“Because it seemed like there was more to the story, more to tell. I got a very shrunken down version.” 

You replied.

“Well, if you need me to beat his ass I will. You just let me know.” 

He spoke with a devilish smirk that you knew meant he was both serious and joking. 

“Thanks, Top.” 

You laughed. 

“Of course, you know I always have your back.” 

He replied, snaking an arm around your shoulders. 

“Anyways, so we talked about the drugs and why he felt like he couldn’t talk to me, and then he told me he was sorry and he wanted to be friends again. He drove me home and asked me to come to dinner tonight at Tannyhill. I said, yes, so here we are. Oh, and I told him about me being sick at the party-”

“You did what?!” 

You were cut off with an incredulous question and raised eyebrows from Topper. 

“Yeah, I told him a little about getting sick when we ended things and he didn’t even run like I thought he would.” 

You said with a soft, sweet smile. Topper couldn’t remember the last time he had seen you smile like that. 

“I told you he wouldn’t. He loves you.” 

He replied easily, the truth of the words flew out of his mouth so effortlessly. 

“Yeah, we’ll see. I’m not 100% on board yet. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then he runs away again.” 

Topper shrugged, he couldn’t disagree with your reservations after the last couple years you’d had. You’d been through so much. All he wanted was to see you happy and he knew if the timing was right Rafe would treat you so well. He’d truly changed. 

“That’s understandable and valid. Just don’t write him off yet. He might surprise you.” 

He said with an easy smile. 

“Thanks, Top.” 

The two of you shared a hug after exiting the convenience store, with snacks in hand. As you made your way back to the jeep, Rafe admired your form, watching the wind raking through the skirt of your dress. 

“Welcome back, pretty girl. Are you ready for our morning kiss, yet?” 

Kelce asked again, sweetly this time. He was starting to get on your nerves. 

“Kelceo, cool it.” 

Topper stated, climbing into the driver's seat. Kelce was annoying everyone today, kidding or not. 

You climbed into the backseat again, plopping down next to Rafe. His sparkling blue eyes took in your smiling form as you tore into a bag of popcorn. 

“How are you feeling, sweet girl?” 

Rafe questioned, studying your form with his piercing blue eyes. Sweet girl. You hadn’t heard that in a long time and it felt warm against your ears.

“I’m feeling pretty good right now. But, my sugar is low.” 

You smiled in his direction. 

“How do you know it’s low?” 

He asked with genuine curiosity. 

“I have this app on my phone, see.” 

You turned your phone screen around, which displayed your glucose monitor’s readings. Your blood sugar was low, reading 76 mg/dL. Which was not low enough to warrant panic, but also not high enough to be considered normal.  

“So, if 76 is low, what’s considered normal?” 

Rafe probed in a genuinely curious fashion.

“Generally, the goal is to keep the daytime blood sugar levels before meals between 80 and 130 mg. But, after-meal numbers are a little bit higher but shouldn’t be more than 180 mg.” 

You explained simply. 

“Oh, okay. That makes sense. Will you tell me if you start to feel bad?” 

He questioned. It made you smile that you seemed to be falling back into your rhythm so easily. 

“I won’t have to. You’ll know. But, I promise I will.” 

You gave him a reassuring smile and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. The touch, though short-lived, was electric and you wondered if he felt it too. The music topper was playing lulled you to sleep all of thirty minutes into the road trip and you were beginning to stir as soon as he pulled into the UNC visitor’s parking lot.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” 

Rafe ran his fingers through your hair, scratching it in a circular motion. Your favorite way to wake up. When you opened your eyes, you jolted up, embarrassed, realizing your head was on Rafe’s shoulder and drool was pooling at the corner of your mouth, dripping onto the gray t-shirt he was wearing. You turned your head towards him with apologetic eyes as you took in his face, the sweet disposition oozing out of him, as his eyes smiled at you before his mouth did. 

“I’m sorry I drooled on you.”

You spoke sheepishly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Not the first time, definitely won’t be the last.” 

He chuckled, giving you his classic Rafe Cameron smile before getting out of Topper’s jeep and making his way to the passenger side to open yours for you. As you began to climb out of the car, he picked up your bag, carrying it for you. 

“Thanks, Rafe. You don’t have to carry it, though.”

You said, beaming up at him. 

“You look so pretty today, I think I’d do anything you asked of me.” 

He blurted out without thinking and your eyes went wide as your cheeks filled with a blush. 

“You are so sweet, Rafe. Thank you.” 

He nodded and smiled your way, yet again. 

“I’ll carry it. It will make me feel better if you have a glucose emergency if I know where it is.” 

He stated, matter-of-factly, as he placed the brown leather backpack on his shoulder. His words created a flutter in your stomach. 

“Okay, losers! Come on, we gotta check-in at the visitor’s center.” 

Topper remarked. You and Rafe began following him and Kelce to the front of the building. Topper quickly went inside and left the three of you waiting on the steps as he went to collect your program information, campus maps, and name tags. When he came back out of the door, he handed each of you your designated packets of information and began explaining what the game plan was. 

“Okay, so in each of these packets is information specific to your major. Y/N and Rafe, you’re in a group and then me and Kelce are in a group because our majors and buildings are on the same sides of campus. Go through the packet, it’s got a scavenger hunt and then instructions for meeting the bigger tour group after lunch. We will see you guys then.” 

He finished what he was saying and Rafe was already moving, ready to get away from Topper and Kelce and celebrate his alone time with you. 

“Okay, sounds good.” 

Rafe spoke, taking the packet of information from Topper’s hands, and turning to you with a smile. 

“You ready?” 

He questioned with a smile. 

“As I'll ever be, lead the way, Cameron.” 

You gestured to the sidewalk in front of you, beaming up at his tall form, opting to go the opposite direction of Kelce and Topper. 

Topper and Kelce quickly scurried off, putting you and Rafe alone again, finally. You love the other two stooges with every fiber of your being, but you’d always loved Rafe more. If soulmates were a thing, he was yours in a platonic way of course, because there’s no way he felt about you the way you felt about him. You were okay with that. Rafe in any way, shape, or form was enough for you, as long as you had him in some way, you’d be okay. As Rafe began talking to you, you were brought out of your daydream. 

“So, what do you want to hit first, the football field?” 

He asked sarcasm present in his tone, though playful and innocent. 

“Sure, if you’re gonna be playing here, we should check it out first.” 

You gave him a small smile. 

“Are you thinking about coming here in all seriousness?” 

“Yeah, I was offered a full scholarship for cheer and academics pending my final grades next year.” 

“What?! That’s amazing, Y/N!” 

“Thanks, Rafe. I wish my brother thought so.” 

“What do you mean? Hasn’t he wanted you to go to UNC like forever?” 

He asked, confusion ever-present in his voice. 

“I mean, yeah. He’s just been different ever since I got sick.” 

“What do you mean?”

He questioned. 

“It’s like most of the time, I’m a bug he’s trying to swat away.” 

You replied with nonchalance, though Rafe could register the pain in your voice. 

“Maybe he just worries about you?” 

He asked, suggestively. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. You’ll see tonight what I mean.” 

You muttered. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better, we’ll be here together. At UNC, I mean.” 

He said with a sweet smile. 

“Really?!” 

The joy that riddled your face made Rafe smile. 

“Yeah, I’ve got some scouts coming to see me play in the fall and I’m excited. UNC is my dream school, though. So even if I have to be a walk-on or not play at all, I’ll still be coming here. They’ve already given me a scholarship.” 

“As they should, Mr. Valedictorian.” 

You smiled brightly at him. 

“Hey, how do you know I’m valedictorian?!” 

He chuckled but was surprised. He had never talked to anyone about his class standing. 

“Well, I did some digging after realizing I was second in our class, and to my surprise, my favorite Cameron was the one that beat me out.” 

You gave him a sly smile. 

“Since when am I your favorite Cameron?” 

He asked jokingly, though the notion made his heart soar. 

“Since always.” 

“Oh, come on! You and Sarah have been thick as thieves for the last two years.” 

“Maybe. Sarah’s always been a good friend to me. Topper and Kelce too. But, you’ve always been number one in my heart, I hope you know that.” 

The kindness exuded from your eyes. You meant every word. 

“You’re something else, you know that.” 

He chuckled, but you suddenly felt like you had said the wrong thing, swallowing thickly. He observed your form, realizing where your mind had gone. 

“No, no, I mean that in a good way. There’s just no one like you. You’ve always been just so perfect. It’s hard to measure up.” 

“It’s a facade, trust me.” 

You spoke, rolling your eyes at the notion that anything that had anything to do with you was in the same category as perfect. You were brought out of your thoughts as the two of you made your way to the entrance of the football field, following other students into the gates. Rafe looked on in awe at what would be his stomping grounds in just a few short years, his eyes sparkled as he daydreamed about the baby blue uniform he’d get to wear with his name and number sewn into the back. He’d get to matter here. He’d get to be somebody other than Ward Cameron’s son. He’d hope to make you his girl, here. But, quickly pushed that thought down as you began speaking to him. 

“What? Are you imagining all of your fans screaming your name? All the girls throwing themselves at you?”

You chuckled. 

“Nope. Just one.” 

“Shutup! Who is it, Cameron? You have to tell me!” 

“You’ll know soon enough, you know how bad I am with secrets.” 

You giggled and its music to his ears. 

“Boy do I! Remember that time in second grade when we brought that puppy to my house from the street and we were only able to hide it from my mom for three hours before you blabbered?!” 

“Not my best secret-keeping moment.”

He chuckled, remembering that day with you. Your soft curls that too often fell on your face and the look of pure fear in your eyes when your mom found out about the puppy. 

“That was a good day.” 

You spoke softly. 

“Yeah, it was.” 

The two of you stood side by side, Rafe’s shoulders towering over you, as you both looked onto the field that would be your home for four years. Excitement stirred in your gut at the chance to get out of the Outer Banks, out of Kildare fucking county with your best friends in the entire world and you simply, couldn’t wait. You hoped the next two years would fly by so you could get out of your hometown, finally fall in love, and forget that Kooks and Pogues even existed. 

“Okay, Cameron. Let’s go check out the buildings where our classes will be.” 

“Sounds good, pretty girl.” 

He smiled at you and placed his hand on the small of your back as he led you out of the stadium and back to the quad. Once you made it away from the large crowd inhabiting the stadium, you probed Rafe with another question. 

“So, what are you majoring in, big guy?” 

“I haven’t fully decided. Dad wants me to be a business and marketing major, but I am really into the idea of English lit. What about you?” 

“I’m English Literature with a concentration in creative writing and a minor in entrepreneurship.” 

“Nice! What do you want to do with that?” 

He probed, curious about your career path. 

“I’m not sure, yet. Maybe teach English or become a writer. All I know is that writing and reading makes me feel alive and I’d like to chase that high as long as I can.” 

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

You instantly recognized the words he was stringing together into a sentence. 

“Rafe Cameron, are you quoting Dead Poets Society to me?” 

You smiled so widely at him. This version of Rafe was different. It was one you had seen glimpses of over the years, but this one, he was your person. You were sure of it. 

“Don’t all the guys you talk to do that?” 

“What? Do you mean the ever-so-educated JJ Maybank who cares about feelings and reading? Yeah, no. I can’t say that they do.” 

You scoffed into a laugh at Rafe’s joke slash question. 

“Okay, that’s fair.” 

He said, letting out a boisterous belly laugh. 

“Let’s go look at the Business Administration building first.” 

You suggested and Rafe agreed with your idea. Since you both would have classes in both buildings, it truly didn’t matter which you explored first. As you made your way to the building across the quad, your phone started dinging. Your stupid blood sugar, ruining things again. 

“What’s that noise?” 

Rafe questioned. 

“It’s my glucose monitor on my phone. It’s low again.” 

You looked on at him, defeated. He gently lifted your bag off of his shoulders and took your phone out and looked down at the readings. 76 mg, way too low for his comfort and probably for yours too. 

“It’s 76 mg, Y/N. What do I need to do?” 

“Look for anything in my bag with carbs and I'll check again in 15 minutes.” 

You reply without the urgency that Rafe is feeling. 

“Okay, let’s sit down for the time being. You don’t look like you feel great.” 

He motioned to the bench, just off the sidewalk, close to the arboretum. He knew you wanted to see it before you left campus today, so this was the perfect spot. 

“I’m okay, just sluggish. I thought I was just tired from last night.” 

You let Rafe lead you to sit, his hand on the small of your back. You took his hand as he motioned you down onto the bench and he felt you shaking. Rafe looked through the bag, examining its contents, quickly. 

“Okay, there’s bread and a banana. Which is better?” 

“Give me the bread. It’s this banana nut bread I make every week.” 

“You amaze me you know that?” 

He gave you a soft smile and unwrapped the bread from the Ziploc bag it sat in, handing it to you. 

“Thank you, Rafe, really, it means the world to have you here and to have your help.” 

“Anything for you, I mean that. Are you thirsty?” 

“Yeah, there’s water in there, too.” 

He nodded, reaching back into the bag to retrieve the water bottle and handing it to you. 

“After we get your levels back up, let’s go into the arboretum, and then we will grab some lunch.” 

“Sure, thanks, Rafe. I love the Arboretum here, it’s so beautiful!” 

“Yeah, I know. You’ve only been talking about visiting it since we were ten.” 

“You remember that?” 

“I remember everything you tell me.” 

You blushed at his confession. You sat there, just chatting back and forth for the fifteen minutes it took for the food to settle before you checked your blood sugar again. Rafe pulled your phone back out of your bag and looked at the screen. 100 mg. We’re back in business baby!

“88 mg, back to normal, pretty girl.” 

He spoke, blush coating your cheeks and you watched the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. 

“Thanks, Rafe. You’ve been so good about all of this. It scares most people.” 

You thank him sheepishly. 

“I’m not most people, you know that.” 

He stood up from the bench, placing your backpack on his shoulders once more, and gently took your hand in his, lifting you to your feet. He led you to the sidewalk and you began your trek to the arboretum, his hand on the small of your back once again. You tried not to read too much into his hands constantly being close to you, you and Rafe had always had an intimate relationship that was very hands-on. As you made your way toward the greenhouse, you felt a raindrop hit your nose and before your brain could process what your orbs had just taken in, the bottom of the sky fell out and rain poured from the sky. The same way your eyes leaked when you and Rafe had stopped speaking. As the rain-drenched your clothes, you and Rafe shared a mischievous look, before he grabbed your hand and you both took off running toward your destination. It seemed like you had been running forever when you made it inside the doors of the greenhouse. Once you finally shook the water off of your bodies, reminiscent of a wet dog shaking his fur violently, you had a minute to take Rafe in. The light from the lightning lit up his drenched features. He took his baseball cap off, shaking it out and ringing out the water from his shirt. As he turned to look at you, you moved into him, eyes locking with his, his tall muscular form standing over you. You’re not sure what’s come over you, maybe it’s the care he’s shown you or how different he is now. But, you couldn’t take too much time to process what you were feeling or what you were thinking. The next few moments felt like a scene from a movie, as you placed your hands on his cheeks and kissed his lips, deeply, a moan escaping your lips. He was quick to pull away, bewilderment in his eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry, Rafe. I read the signals wrong.” 

“I’m not sorry because you didn’t misread anything.” 

And just like that, Rafe Cameron was kissing you, gently, deeply, madly, clothes drenched in rainwater and with ecstasy-filled eyes. Rafe Goddamn Cameron was kissing you and you fucking loved it. 

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[biolumien]

when'd you get so cool? (always was)

jo togame x gn!reader pre shishitoren arc, post choji becoming leader mentions of implied violence word count: 1022

“fuck.” 

jo togame, vice captain to the shishitoren, was currently bleeding pretty hard from several gashes on his arms, and one fairly nasty scrape across his face. you’d found him limping back to the ori, his orange jacket draped over his shoulders as he held onto his arm, applying loose pressure over his wounds—and his characteristic orange glasses dangling unevenly against his nose. 

you’d rushed him back to the ori, towards an upper floor where you were less likely to be bothered, and had found the medkit you kept for emergencies like this. shishitoren might be devotees to power, but they didn’t have to be devotees to constant open wounds and injuries. or something like that, 

you held a cotton ball with a set of tweezers, just after you dunked it into some rubbing alcohol, but togame kept jolting—not enough to stop you from being able to disinfect his wounds, but enough that he kept pressing closer and closer towards you. 

“stop moving,” you say, finally exasperated, your cheeks flushed at the proximity. “i’m trying to disinfect your wounds, genius.”

“aww. you think i’m one?” togame’s eyes brightened for a moment as he drawled. “a genius?”

“…” 

the face you made must have been pretty bad, because he snickered, the sound low, almost like a rumbling in his throat. 

“when’d you get so cool?” togame mutters, pressing close to your face. your cheeks are flushed—they must be, and you laugh softly, flicking his forehead. his facial expression falters for a second, wincing in dramatic pain. “mean it. when?” 

in the rundown room of the ori, you feel a sudden rising of chill air, and you shiver, despite the warm heat of togame’s body pressing close to yours. 

“i’ve always been,” you tease. “guess you just haven’t noticed what was right in front of you.” 

bolder than you usually are, at least. you think something curdles in you–shame for saying something so bold, maybe? you worry, for a fleeting, desperate second, that togame’s just going to mock you, but he doesn’t. togame laughs. it’s a nice sound, a slow thing that makes his chest shake with each chuckle. 

“really…” he whistles, the note low. “didn’t realize, then, i guess. my bad.” his nose scrunches when he laughs. your face feels like it’s on fire, and then you realize you have to get back to patching him up—so you cut some gauze with the scissors in your small medkit, gesturing to togame to extend his arm. 

he’s wiry, but you’ve seen this man punch so hard he’s dented metal sheets without even flinching. his arms feel hard. 

“knives do this?” you ask as you tie the gauze tightly around his arm. 

“yeah,” togame says. he stares down at you, a small smirk crossing his face slowly—at the pace of trickling honey. “worried about me?”

you scoff.

“out of everyone, i worry the least about you,” you murmur. and you’re lying, you know it, because you do worry about him–you lie awake in your bed, staring up at your ceiling fan, at ribbons that you’ve tacked up on the blades that flow hypnotically–and you worry and wonder and hope that togame is safe. even though he hits the hardest, he’s built like a truck–he’ll be safe, so long as he plays his cards right. 

“i know you can handle yourself. just wonder if you bite off a little more than you can chew sometimes. with choji, with the rest of them,” you continue, wrapping gauze around his other arm. 

togame’s green eyes darken a little bit–you can see the point at which they harden, like flint. you realize maybe a little belatedly that you’d fucked up–choji was a sensitive subject, even now–you never asked about the depth of togame’s devotion, but he was the self-sacrificing type in the end, too–the kind of man that would wade in the river lethe if it meant that his friends wouldn’t touch the memory-erasing waters.

he’d lose himself if it meant protecting someone else. that’s what scared you, what kept you awake at night. 

“sorry,” you say, picking up the medkit to pull out some bandaids–fabric kinds, that come in a variety of cute patterns. “i know it’s a touchy subject.”

“... s’fine,” togame says, and his eyes stay that strange, dulled color–but the smile’s back, and this time you can realize how fake it is–the edges of his masked facade coming apart at the seams. you fish through patterned bandaids, settling on an orange one with black cats across it. 

“tilt your head,” you murmur. “away from me, so i can put this on. then you’re done.” 

togame does so, his glasses almost falling off the bridge of his nose as he looks away. you press the bandage against his face, carefully making sure it adheres. his skin is warm, and you can almost see the places where he’s shaved at his jaw with a razor, and your thumb brushes against the faintest hint of stubble.

“all done,” you say, pulling back.

“thanks.”

togame’s voice is clipped, strained. he seems to be looking at something far away–further than the walls of the ori. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” you ask as he stands up, pressing away from you.

“me? never better,” togame says, and you can tell it’s a lie from the way his smile strains, too strained to be genuine. “don’t worry about me.” he leans forward, taking your hand in his for a moment–and you’re startled by the feverish warmth of his hand for a moment, as he leans down to press a kiss to the tips of your fingers. 

his lips are warm, too–a little dry, but soft. the kiss itself is almost reverent, and you think your breath gets strangled in your throat for a desperate, wheezing second. 

he smiles, almost sheepishly at you for a moment, before he turns and shrugs his jacket on past his bandaged arms, and leaves.

you raise up the hand that he’d kissed, pressing your fingers to your lips contemplatively for a moment–as if you could, by kissing the faint reminder of his ghost, feel his lips on yours. 

[soombee]

ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — ch 10 , what are we, kim donghyun?!

warning ! mentions of suicide (sarcasm) and alcohol consumption

word count , um a lot

sorry for the long wait😢😢 i was sick all thanksgiving break 🙂🙂🙂 also lowkey by niki reference at the end heh

the message sat in your head for too long, your thumb hovering over the send button. before you could even sigh, your hands typed it out, and hit send—which would have taken more than a week for you to send if you hadn't been unstable LOL

you; hi leehan, sorry for not responding to um.. the whole thing sooner but i think i'm ready now(?) let’s talk

his reply came almost instantly-like the only thing he was made for in life was to service you

leehan; Oh of course, pretty. I've been thinking about it too Imao. I’ll be there in 10

the nickname "pretty" twisted something in your chest. it was so casually affectionate, but now it carried the weight of everything unresolved

true to his word, his car pulled up in front of your house minutes later. you hesitated as you walked toward the passenger door, wondering if this was a mistake. but when you opened the door and slid into the seat, the familiar scent of his cologne—sweet and warm—made your heart clench,

“hi,” he said softly, glancing at you as you buckled your seatbelt

“hi,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended

he waited a beat before putting the car in drive, “where do you want to go?”

“anywhere,” you said, avoiding his gaze, “just..somewhere we can talk”

he nodded, and the two of you drove in silence, the hum of the engine and the quiet music being the only noise between you. he took you to a quiet spot by the river, a place you’d both gone to in happier times; the familiarity of it felt like a cruel joke

when he parked, neither of you moved—it all felt so awkward. he turned off the engine and the silence grew heavier

“so” he started, his voice hesitant, “what did you want to talk about?”

you stared out the window, your heart racing, “us.”

his grip on the steering wheel visibly tightening, letting out a shaky breath, “i figured..”

“i need to know, leehan,” you said, finally looking at him, “why did you push me away? why couldn’t you just let me in?”

he turned to you, his expression conflicted, “i didn’t mean to.. i—i thought I was protecting you. from me, from my mess. i thought if I kept my distance, you’d be better off”

you scoffed, the frustration bubbling u, “protecting me? by shutting me out? by making me feel like I wasn’t enough?”

“that’s not what i wanted,” he said quickly, his voice breaking, “i swear, yn. i never wanted to hurt you. i just—”

the pure oblivion in his words only made the ache in your chest even worse

“oh my GOD, leehan. you couldn’t even trust me? you couldn’t even count on me not to judge you for being so overzealous,” your voice trembling, “you didn’t even try. you made me feel like I was screaming into the void.. like—like i was standing on your street in the cold, waiting for you to just unfold your arms and let me into your warmth.”

his eyes widened, the weight of your words hitting him—finally realizing what you really went through to get here.

“you say you care,” you continued, tears brimming, “but caring isnt enough, donghyun. if you wanted me—really wanted me—you’d show me. you’d stop hiding behind your walls and show up. show me the very thing you’ve been shutting everyone else from seeing.”

his head dropped, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white,

“i know,” he whispered. “i know i messed up. i know i let my own fears ruin what we had and I hate myself for it, yn. everyday, i hate myself for it” he wiped away your tears, “every passing moment i spend without you is the only thing i think of ever since we stopped talking.”

the vulnerability in his voice and how he’s still caring for you even tho there were tears rolling down his face cracked something in you, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt

“i forgive you,” you said after a long silence, your voice quiet but firm, “but forgiveness doesnt mean i’m ready to forget. i need time. i need space to figure out what i want”

he sighed, long and heavy, “does this mean that whatever we have won’t go any further than this?”

you shook your head, your throat tight, “i—i dont know. i just.. we cant keep doing this. let’s… let’s not talk for a while. at least not about anything other than the project.”

he nodded slowly, swallowing hard, “okay, if that’s what you need.”

you reached for his hand, “leehan… i dont hate you. i could never hate you. but you need to figure out what you want too.”

the ride back was silent, the weight of the conversation still settling between you. when he pulled up in front of your house, you paused before getting out, pausing to look at him one last time,

“i don’t want you to wait for me but, for all that this is worth, i know we can be better for each other in time.”

his lips parted but no words came out. instead, he just nodded, keeping his gaze steady

you stepped out of the car, closing the door softly behind you. as you walked up to your door, you didn’t look back though you could feel his eyes lingering on your back, you can tell that he misses you already.

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[rainybubbles]

Which love tropes are COD men ?

Ghost, Gaz, Soap, Price, Alejandro,Rudy, Keegan

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC. )

G H O S T :

Right person, wrong time

-It was an ordinary encounter, perhaps in a quaint grocery store or a bakery.

-He, a familiar face, gradually wove himself into your routine.

-Initially, only glances were exchanged : your curiosity met with his suspicion.

-But as time flowed, recognition blossomed, evolving into a delicate dance of shared secrets.

-There were playful glances.

-Some to mock this harsh client, some to exchange silent greetings, and at times some to secretly admire one other.

-There were also your doodling on his napkins when you gave him his pastries or pieces of bread.

-At first he remained oblivious, but over time, these doodles found a place in his home.

-Secretly kept in a box.

-It became an intimacy that defied words.

-Slowly the spark between you melted his ice barriers.

-The reason Simon were a regular or even in your country, was a year-long leave- a medical hiatus, owing to a wounded leg.

-Anger and fear consumed him upon hearing this news.

-Work was a means to escape the looming solitude within, it allowed him to not think

-Thus, he stumbled upon your bakery, where the comforting scent of freshly baked cookies invoked nostalgia, but of a sweet, rather than bitter kind.

-It reminded him of his mother.

-One year.

-The realization struck when he noticed your pastries were now baked within the walls of his own

kitchen, and your fragrance clung to his clothes, no longer limited to your bakery.

-At that moment, he made a decision.

-Because he knew he would not settle in here.

-He would not live here or stay here.

-And he knew he could not contact you again.

-And he couldn't bear to ask you to wait for him, knowing he might never return alive.

-So one fateful day when you saw him walking perfectly fine, you understood.

-He was healed. A year had passed.

-You stood so close that your lips nearly brushed against each other.

-On the verge of a kiss, he whispered softly "goodbye" instead of "I love you", as if the fact to not pronounce it could erase your feelings with time.

-Yet, in the years that followed, both of you wondered "what if we had dared that kiss ?".

-Right person, wrong time.

G A Z

Friends to lovers

-You both shared a profound friendship.

-During this friendship, you harbored a silent infatuation for Gaz, but you never acted upon it; it ebbed away gradually.

-It all began on a mundane summer night.

-Conversing upon unassuming plastic chairs, the balmy summer night caressing you, and laughter exchanged, you both reveled in the moment.

-Unexpectedly, Gaz felt a gentle warmth, briefly mistaking it for a passing delight, he didn't grant it much thought.

-Months later, in a dimly lit bar with the 141, Soap regaled the group with his comical misadventure- a disastrous date with a man convinced he was a vampire, who attempted to bite his ear. Amid the laughter, he posed a question, "Who is your ideal date?"

-"Myself," Ghost replied.

-Gaz and Soap chuckled.

-"You're a cocky bastard, L.T,." Soap said.

"Just confident Sergeant."

-"I'll choose Beyoncé or Donald Glover," Soap declared.

-Gaz grinned and was about to select a celebrity too, but he halted himself when your image was the only one that filled his mind.

-He parted his lips and fabricated an excuse before excusing himself for some fresh air.

-Perhaps he was intoxicated.

-Yes.

-Why would he... why would he divulge such feelings when you had been friends for years...

-He contemplated how at ease he was in your presence.

-How you supported him through the darkest days of his PTSD during his leaves.

-How you delved into the intricacies of PTSD, your fervor for your hobbies, and the way your smile etched a subtle crease on your cheek.

-How... how it transcended platonic boundaries.

-He retrieved his phone, prepared to send you a message.

-But fear seized him.

-Then he sighed. He was a soldier, a valiant man, prepared to wage war even in matters of the heart.

-He sent a message.

-And deleted it.

-And sent it once more before locking his phone and returning to the teal ambiance of the bar.

-When he settled back in his seat, Price wore a knowing smirk.

-"It was about time, son," Price smiled."

S O A P :

Unrequited love

-Soap was akin to a radiant sun, drawing people into his orbit effortlessly.

-Gazing upon him unveiled an entire solar system, one that included the 141, his beloved family, and a constellation of friends, all revolving around him like celestial bodies.

- It was as though every shared moment had forged an invisible gravitational pull, igniting a constellation of emotions within your heart.

-The magic lay in the details-how he remembered your favorite song and serenaded you in his car, never allowing his gaze to wander from yours.

- He ensured your seamless integration into the group, an attentive listener in moments when you believed no one else was.

-His smile, an ethereal response to your mere mention, bespoke the devotion he held for you.

-Thoughtful gifts crafted solely for you, tender touches, and sincere compliments on your attire, each detail etched itself into your soul.

-You believed in the possibility, for the very first time, of experiencing love's tender embrace.

-It was a sublime euphoria.

- Then, as suddenly as a meteor strike, reality set in Soap had found love elsewhere.

-At first, bitterness filled your heart.

-You wondered if there was a chance, a missed moment... Yet, he had another partner, then another, and another, and another.

-But never you.

-You recognized your own selfishness.

-In a lifetime of wanting nothing, you yearned for his affection now. Tears welled in your eyes. Then, a text arrived.

-He shared news of a successful date. As you gazed at your reflection in the mirror after reading his message, a smile tinged with tears danced upon your lips.

-You understood that your feelings were your burden to bear, not his. Despite the agony it brought, you genuinely celebrated his happiness.

-With a sigh, you locked your phone, only to feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I know, love. Come here," whispered a voice.

-You found Gaz.

-You sobbed in his arms when you recognized his glance.

-His glance was the same as yours: an unrequited love

-"I'm sorry, Gaz."

-"It's okay."

-"I'm sorry, I wish..."

-"Don't finish that sentence," Gaz gently admonished.

-Soap resembled the sun, but you had forgotten that drawing too near to the sun could result in burning.

P R I C E :

First love

-Not his first lover, but unquestionably his first love.

-During high school, Price embodied the quintessential sportsman, often hailed as the golden boy.

-He was orchestrating a fundraising endeavor for the grand ball when a cacophony of voices reached his ears from an empty classroom.

-It was your partner who had left you in the lurch, callously disregarding your feelings.

-Your partner had callously remarked how he was fully aware that you lacked alternative companionship.

-And he took perverse pride in this knowledge, exploiting your social anxiety, knowing you wouldn't dare to present yourself alone at the ball.

-As this asshole exited, you crossed paths with Price.

-You nodded your head in acknowledgment, you extended your assistance upon noticing Price's dedication to decorating the ball. His acceptance was unspoken yet understood. Moments passed.

-"Are we going to ignore the elephant in the room ?" you inquired.

-"Why should we? It was evident he would ditch me. I only asked him because I didn't want to go alone. I... was just hoping that he could endure my presence until the ball."

-"Well, if you seek a partner for the ball, I happen to know a certain sportsman who is kinda handsome " Price joked, clearly referring to himself. Your laughter echoed through the room.

-"Thank you, but there's no need. Just helping with the decorations allows me to feel involved. Besides, I'd likely faint amidst the crowd and festivities," you confessed. Price nodded, his understanding unspoken but profound.

-Yet, every evening after school, he would find you, ostensibly seeking your assistance with the decorations.

-Initially, you took it at face value, only to realize that Price had a deeper motive when he requested your help in crafting delicate paper flowers, while you knew there were already real flowers for the big day.

- It became apparent that Price had orchestrated this ruse to enable you to savor the ball in your own way.

-The bond between you grew stronger.

-Through strokes of paint, collaborative DIY projects, and shared tasks, your afternoons transformed into cherished moments.

-In your final session before the ball, you thanked him.

-Price smiled.

- Then he went to the ball with the girl he promised to go with.

- The night was enchanting.

- However, at the stroke of 2 AM, a gentle rap on your door interrupted your dreams, as Price stood there, asking you to dance in your garden, so you would not faint because of the crowd.

- You laughed and told him it was too dark and you were in pajamas.

- But he just smiled and said he could dance in your room to some Lou Reed vinyl.

-And so, you danced, clad in pajamas, in the intimate confines of your room. A shared kiss sealed the night.

-Your relationship spanned two beautiful years.

-When Price enlisted, he ardently desired to maintain your connection.

-But you didn't want it.

-You knew you couldn't keep a long-distance relationship.

-Thus, you chose to part ways, preserving your shared memories.

-To this day, Price keeps a paper flower, a symbol of your connection, beside a photograph of the 141 on his office desk.

-Whenever "Walk on the Wild Side" graces his ears, a nostalgic smile graces his face.

-Oh, how he yearns for the bygone days.

A L E J A N D R O

Second chance

-In the whirlwind of a bitter and hasty love affair, communication had faltered, leaving you forever in the shadow of Valeria.

-Her name echoed incessantly, revealing the less flattering facets of your character.

- You had never thought of yourself as a jealous person, but this situation had brought forth that dormant emotion.

-The realization that you no longer recognized the person you had become, coupled with the painful understanding that Alejandro's love was not returned as you had wished, led to a painful breakup.

-The break-up was far from clean; it left a trail of emotional wreckage in its wake.

-However, in Las Almas, gossip spread like wildfire.

- Years later, in a new school in Las Almas, fate reunited you with Alejandro.

-He wasted no time in offering a sincere apology the moment he recognized you as the teacher.

-He confessed that during your past relationship, his heart still clung to Valeria, though he had only recently ended that idea.

- He knew he could never return to her, and he had come to accept this truth. You nodded, uncertain of what more there was to say.

-As the days went by, children inquired about Alejandro's work whenever they spotted his gear.

- Uncertain about how to proceed, you took a chance and asked if he could stay.

-A warm smile graced his lips, and slowly, after finishing his patrols or shifts at the base, he began to visit the school to lend you a hand. He always carried sweets in his pocket to spoil the children of Las Almas.

-In this closeness, Alejandro began to discover the remarkable person you were.

-Of course, you had always been extraordinary, but he had never truly taken the time to explore the finer details of your character, to uncover the nuances that made you unique.

-He had admired you before, but now he was certain that he loved you.

-He willingly offered his assistance in preparing your classes, often took charge in the kitchen, and eventually mustered the courage to ask you out on a date.

- Your response was hesitant; you weren't entirely convinced or ready to rekindle the past. He simply smiled and assured you that it didn't matter. He would stay by your side.

-A year later he was still here.

-You eventually agreed to that one date, though you insisted it wouldn't signify much.

-Yet, one date led to two, and then three, and soon, a multitude of shared moments. Alejandro was ready to release his grip on the past, for he saw a brilliant future ahead with you.

R U D Y

Slow burn

-He had always harbored deep affection for you, yet he refrained from taking action due to your existing relationship.

-However, the magnetic chemistry between you two proved impossible to extinguish.

-When you found yourself single once more, he stood by your side to mend your broken heart.

-During your dates with other people, Alejandro would sigh, exclaim, and even wager with Rudy's mom.

-With each passing year, Alejandro's wallet grew emptier as he found himself increasingly indebted to Rudy's mom.

-Rudy was someone who was confident, but he hesitated to initiate, feeling unworthy.

-The trust and friendship you shared were truly precious to him.

-Despite the flirtations, tender touches, whispered endearments, and warm embraces, it seemed both of you were hesitant to immerse yourselves fully in your love for one another.

-Several years after your initial encounters, following a demanding and challenging mission, Rudy reached his breaking point.

- Pulsing with adrenaline and weariness coursing through his muscles, he instinctively made his way to your residence.

- As you opened the door, a radiant smile graced your face.

- "It was about time, Rudy," you remarked.

- And with that, he kissed you passionately, the door slamming shut as your garments gracefully found their way to the floor.

K E E G A N

Neighbor next door

-A flooding breached your common wall, necessitating a decision to share his bathroom with you, given that yours lay in disrepair.

- It marked the beginning of your mutual acquaintance, for you both were individuals who seldom engaged with other neighbors.

-Following this event, the elevator became a stage for exchanged smiles.

- Whenever he spied you struggling with groceries, he would gallantly come to your aid.

- You, in turn, brightened his door with thoughtful notes, a balm to soothe the weariness stemming from his deployments.

-Laughter echoed through the hallways after you collaborated on a playful prank targeting your cantankerous neighbor.

-It was a bond forged without the need for spoken words, a silent understanding that linked you both.

-Gradually, two keys melded into one, opening the door to a new chapter in your shared sanctuary.

_____

I also thought about

Konig : childhood friends to lovers.

And Alejandro : ennemies to lovers.

And Ghost with a fake pretend relationship because of his trust issues, I think it could be one of the way for him to open up slowly and safely in his mind.

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