#THIS MOVIE HAD ME SOBBING SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brookghaib-blog · 10 days ago

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Almost Loved - III

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: Four months of dates, gave Y/N hope that she found the one after hopeless years, Bob looks in love, treats beautiful. There's one step that looks like it's coming. Until Bob breaks it off with her. Encountering each other a year and an half later. What happened ?

Word count: 4,9k

Tampa, Florida - 18 months ago

The message came while she sat alone at the café.

The same café he’d taken her to on their second date — a cozy little spot tucked between a record store and a flower shop. The rain outside had begun to mist against the windows, soft and quiet, and her fingers curled tighter around the mug of untouched coffee.

She stared at her phone screen. The message glowed like a wound.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t try to contact me.”

Just one sentence.

That was it.

No explanation. No lead-up. No punctuation.

It felt like someone had cut the cord between her heart and lungs, and she couldn’t breathe properly after reading it.

At first, she thought it was a joke — some horribly mistimed prank. Her fingers had fumbled across the keyboard as she typed back, “What? Bob, what’s going on?” But when she hit send, the message didn't deliver. Her stomach turned.

Then she tried to call him. Straight to voicemail.

Again. And again.

She refreshed their conversation. Nothing. She tried Instagram. Blocked. Facebook. Twitter. Even TikTok. Gone.

He had vanished like a ghost, severing every possible string between them with the coldest precision.

Three days ago, he had kissed her forehead while she laughed on his couch, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies. Three days ago, they had watched old movies and shared Chinese takeout and talked about maybe going away for a weekend soon. He had brushed her hair out of her eyes and murmured that she made everything feel lighter. That she made him feel lighter.

What changed in three days?

She didn’t remember getting home. She must have walked through the rain. Or maybe Serena drove her. She couldn’t recall.

All she remembered was collapsing onto the couch, phone still clutched in her hand like a lifeline she didn’t realize had snapped.

The tears came in waves — violent, choking sobs that ripped out of her chest without mercy. The kind of crying that made your bones ache. The kind that felt like dying without dying.

She didn’t eat. Didn’t move.

She just laid there, hours ticking by, her face pressed into a throw pillow that smelled faintly like lavender and something burnt — a candle she’d left too long one night after falling asleep next to him.

Every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped.

But it was never him.

Eventually, she opened the Photos app. It was a compulsion, really — one she didn’t even think about before doing. His face filled her screen in a thousand variations: blurry concert selfies, videos of him trying to dance, sleepy morning snaps where his hair stuck up in every direction.

She watched a video of them in bed. He was teasing her — holding the phone while she hid under the covers, half-asleep and protesting.

“Stop filming me, Bob,” her voice murmured in the clip, laughing.

“But you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered back.

She cried harder.

Every memory felt poisoned now. Every smile was a lie retroactively written into her timeline. Had he known then? Had he been planning his escape even as he tucked her under his arm and called her his favorite part of the day?

She started to spiral — picking apart everything.

Was it her laugh?

Was it the way she always second-guessed herself?

Did she talk too much?

Not enough?

Had she annoyed him that last morning when she asked if he wanted her to stay a little longer?

She counted the flaws in herself like tally marks on a prison wall. Every insecurity that had ever lived quietly in the background suddenly screamed for attention. The scars, the softness of her stomach, the anxious ticks, the way she sometimes cried during sad commercials — all of it. She dissected their relationship until it was a corpse beneath a microscope.

But she found nothing. No answer.

No closure.

Just silence.

At some point, Serena found her there — curled up in a blanket cocoon, phone still glowing dimly beside her, tears drying sticky on her cheeks.

She didn’t ask questions. Just crawled onto the couch with her, arms wrapping tight around her body like scaffolding trying to hold up a crumbling house.

Still, Y/N didn’t sleep.

Not really.

She stared at the ceiling for hours, the ghost of his hand still felt on her skin. She remembered the way he used to run his fingers through her hair when she couldn't sleep. The way he made tea without asking when she was anxious. The way he once told her he’d never had anything in his life that made him want to stay until her.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she whispered into the dark, barely breathing, “Why, Bob? Why would you leave like that?”

Y/N stopped going to the café.

She couldn’t bring herself to walk past it without thinking of that message. The same wooden bench outside still stood where she had sat waiting for him, so sure that the future was just beginning — not ending. The wind blew through the streets the same way, as if the world hadn’t even noticed her heart had shattered.

But she noticed. Every second of every day.

The mornings were the worst.

Waking up felt like punishment. That small, stupid moment between sleep and consciousness — the one where her body forgot to be heartbroken — was always cruelly short. She’d blink awake and roll toward the space beside her, expecting warmth. Memory. Him.

But there was only a cold pillow and her own hollow chest.

Sometimes she reached out for her phone first thing, hope still clinging to her like a disease. Maybe there’d be a message. Maybe he’d changed his mind.

But no.

There was never anything from Bob. Not a word. Not even a missed call or a blank message by accident. Nothing.

And that silence — that intentional silence — burned worse than anything he could’ve said.

Some days she didn’t get out of bed.

Others, she wandered around her apartment aimlessly, dressed in the same hoodie she’d stolen from him months ago, sleeves covering her hands like a child playing dress-up in someone else’s life. She didn’t shower. She barely ate. Every little sound in the hallway made her jump, wondering if maybe — maybe — he was outside, realizing he’d made a mistake.

But he never came.

Serena came.

Every damn day.

Even when Y/N didn’t answer the door. Even when she texted her to go away, to leave her alone, to stop acting like everything could be fixed with smoothies and TV marathons.

Serena came anyway.

Sometimes with groceries. Sometimes with takeout. Sometimes with nothing but her own heavy heart, and eyes that looked like they ached for Y/N just as much.

“Open the door,” she’d say gently through it. “I’m not leaving.”

Y/N didn’t talk much. When she did, it wasn’t about Bob.

Not directly, at least.

She’d say things like “I just feel gross today,” or “I think I’m too sensitive for my own good,” or “I don’t get what I did wrong.” Her voice always cracked on that last one. As if she were still searching for the missing puzzle piece that would make it all make sense.

But there was nothing to find.

Only silence. Absence. An ache that grew heavier with time.

There were nights when she cried so hard she couldn’t breathe. Where the tears weren’t elegant or cinematic, but wild and ugly and loud — curled up on the bathroom floor, clutching her phone like it might suddenly, miraculously ring. Her knuckles white from gripping it. Her throat hoarse from whispering his name.

Other nights, the grief was quieter. Still, but no less brutal. She’d stare at the wall for hours. No music. No TV. Just silence — the same kind Bob had left her in.

Her mind replayed everything they had — their jokes, the mornings tangled in each other, the dumb nicknames, the whispered confessions. She picked apart his last weekend with her again and again. He kissed her. He held her. He looked at her like she was his. How could it have all been a lie?

She’d swing between sorrow and fury.

Sometimes she hated him. Really hated him. For the way he left. For not being man enough to face her. For blocking her without giving her a single damn answer.

“What kind of coward does that?” she once snapped, eyes red and voice raw.

Serena didn’t answer. Just rubbed her back and stayed close. She never pushed. Never said, “Maybe it’s time to move on.” Because she knew that would break Y/N more than anything.

Instead, she listened. Held her when she crumbled. Sat in silence when Y/N couldn’t bear words.

One day, Y/N found the video again. The one of Bob doing a mini vlog on a beach day.

She watched it ten times.

Then threw her phone across the room.

The screen cracked.

So did something inside her.

But still, the pain stayed.

The world moved forward in tiny increments. Days blending into weeks. People started asking where she’d been. She avoided them. She couldn’t stand the idea of pretending to be okay — of lying to their faces while her soul was still bleeding.

Only Serena saw the worst of it.

The way she’d sometimes sit in the shower for an hour, water gone cold, just to feel something. Serena siting on the floor holding her hand. The way she tried to go on a date but canceled last minute because even the idea of holding someone else’s hand made her feel sick.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered once, voice shaking. “He made me feel like I was the one.”

And she meant it. Because she was. He looked at her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world. He kissed her like every breath depended on her lips.

But then he let her go like she was nothing.

And somehow, she had to live with that.

New York - Present day

It was an unusually cold morning in the city — the kind where the wind clawed through even the thickest jackets, and the sky hung heavy with clouds that threatened rain. Serena tugged her coat tighter around her as she emerged from the coffe shop with a carboard with two coffes. One for her. One for Y/N, who’d finally agreed to go on a walk with her later, though she looked more ghost than girl these days, all she didn't need was Toby to turn out to be an asshole after seeing Bob.

She was halfway down the block when she saw them.

Bob.

And some blonde woman walking beside him.

Serena froze mid-step. For a second, her brain didn’t fully register it — like her body needed a moment to buffer the image. But there he was. Tall. Familiar. That same tired, haunted face she’d only seen in Y/N’s photo gallery, in the images Y/N had refused to delete even when her heart was breaking.

He hadn’t changed much.

Still walked like he carried the weight of something massive. Still had that slumped posture, like the world had knocked the fight out of him. But he looked clean now. Sober. Shaved. Dressed in clothes that actually fit. He looked like someone trying.

But Serena didn’t care.

All she saw was the man who had destroyed her best friend.

And the blonde woman beside him — sharp-eyed, confident, her presence powerful enough to command a room — was laughing at something he’d said. Laughing. At him. Bob was smiling, in that awkward, gentle way that made it feel private. Familiar.

Serena’s stomach turned.

Of course. Of course he’d moved on. Of course he had some new girl on his arm, someone probably more exciting, more adventurous. Someone who didn’t cry herself to sleep for a month straight. Someone who didn’t need fixing.

She didn’t even realize she was storming toward them until Bob turned and spotted her.

His face shifted immediately.

“Serena?” His voice cracked, uncertain.

Yelena stopped walking, looking between the two with mild curiosity and a hint of protective alertness — she didn’t know this woman, but Bob’s expression said plenty.

Serena looked at him, lips tightening. “Wow. What a small world.”

Bob took a tentative step forward. “I didn’t think I’d see you. I—do you mind if we talk for a second?”

“Oh, you want to talk?” Serena let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s rich. That’s new.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem?”

Serena looked her over, eyes scanning her from boots to blonde hair. She could’ve been a model. Either way, Serena felt that old, sharp burst of rage she hadn’t let out in weeks. Her voice dropped. Bitter. Cold.

“So… this is the reason, huh? All that heartbreak and disappearing — and it was for her.” She shook her head, chuckling bitterly. “Wow. Y/N really was too good for you.”

Bob blinked, startled. “No, it’s not—wait. You think—? She’s not—Yelena’s a friend. She’s—”

“I don’t give a shit who she is, Bob,” Serena cut him off, voice sharp. “You could be with a goddamn saint and it wouldn’t change what you did. You ghosted her. Blocked her on everything. After saying you loved her. After making her believe she was your whole damn world.”

“I did love her,�� he whispered, pained.

Serena’s nostrils flared. “Then you should’ve fought harder. You should’ve told her the truth. You don’t get to say you loved her when you left her sobbing on the floor, not knowing if you were dead or just bored.”

Bob’s mouth opened, but no words came. His throat bobbed, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. The air between them tightened, thick with everything unsaid.

Yelena, sensing this was personal, shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll give you a minute,” she muttered to Bob, stepping away just out of earshot but still watching from a distance.

Bob swallowed hard. “I know you hate me. You have every right to. But I was—I was sick, Serena. I wasn’t sober when I left. I was trying to protect her—”

“Bullshit,” Serena snapped. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me that noble, self-sacrificing crap. You left without a word. You left her with nothing. You didn’t protect her. You abandoned her.”

Bob looked down, jaw clenched, eyes glassy.

“I was scared,” he admitted, voice low. “I was so deep into it—into everything. And I was ashamed. She didn’t know I was using. She thought I was just a little messed up, but it was more than that. Dealers were after me. I OD’d that week and didn’t tell anyone. I thought... maybe if I disappeared, she’d be better off.”

Serena stared at him. The anger didn’t leave. But now, layered underneath it, was something more dangerous: the temptation to feel sorry for him.

“I don't give a fuck. She wasn’t better off,” she said, quieter now. “You crushed her. She stopped going out. She barely ate. She cried herself to sleep for weeks, Bob. Do you even know what that’s like? Watching someone you love break apart because someone else decided they weren’t worthy of the truth? Good for you, not only you lied you put her in danger but using whatever shit you were doing, and whoever you were with.”

Bob’s hands were in fists now. He looked wrecked.

“I know I ruined it. I know I don’t deserve her.”

Serena exhaled slowly, bitter. “At least you’re right about one thing.”

He winced.

“She loved you so hard, Bob. Like... really loved you. The kind of love that could’ve saved someone, if you’d let her. And now? She’s trying so hard to survive the idea that maybe she was never enough.”

His lip trembled, and for a moment, Serena saw it — the haunted, broken man underneath the calm. His silence wasn’t apathy. It was shame.

“I think about her every day,” he whispered. “Every day, Serena. There hasn’t been a second I haven’t regretted what I did.”

Serena shook her head, the anger softening just barely.

“That doesn’t fix anything. You can’t just show up and say sorry and expect it all to be okay.”

“I know,” he said again, tears finally slipping. “I just—I needed you to know she wasn’t the problem. I was. I am.”

They stood there in silence for a moment. The wind howled between buildings. The sky darkened more.

Serena looked at him, then at the coffee in her hands — one for her, one for Y/N.

“She’s different now,” Serena said softly, stepping back. “She’s not the same girl you left. And even if she was… you’ve got a long road ahead if you think you can walk back into her life.”

Bob nodded slowly, not expecting anything more.

Serena didn’t say goodbye. She just turned, heels clicking on the pavement, coffee tray held tightly, heart aching all over again — this time not just for Y/N, but maybe, just a little... for the man who still loved her, too late.

The apartment was quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outside. Y/N sat curled in a blanket on the couch, nursing the same cup of lukewarm tea she’d reheated twice but hadn’t touched. Her eyes were fixed on the TV, but she wasn’t watching — just letting it run in the background. Serena walked in, kicked off her boots, and tossed her bag onto the counter.

“You been out of that spot today?” she asked casually, eyeing her from across the room.

Y/N didn’t answer. She just pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and gave a half-hearted shrug.

Serena sighed, but didn’t push. She walked into the kitchen and put down the cardboard, grabbed a soda from the fridge, cracked it open, then leaned against the doorway. Her eyes were hesitant.

“I ran into someone today,” she said, too carefully.

Y/N looked over, brows lifting. “Yeah?”

Serena scratched the back of her neck. “It was... Bob.”

Y/N’s face fell.

“Oh.”

A silence settled between them. Y/N’s grip on her mug tightened, but she said nothing.

“He was with a blonde chick,” Serena added quickly. “Not like that. At least he told she was just a friend but... yeah we never know.”

Y/N gave a humorless huff of air. “Figures.”

Serena took a beat. She walked over and sat at the edge of the couch, her tone gentler now.

“He looked like hell, Y/N. Not in a bad way—like, he’s clean. He just... looks like he’s carrying a lot.”

Y/N stared ahead again. “Okay.”

Serena hesitated. “He told me something. Something I think you didn’t know.”

Y/N didn’t move, but the tension in her shoulders rose.

“He said he was using back when you were together.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Serena nodded slowly. “He had a drug problem. Pretty bad, from what I could tell. He hid it from you. Said he was trying to stop while you were dating, but he was still deep in it.”

Y/N was quiet for a long time. Her throat tightened.

“No... he... he never told me that,” she whispered. “I didn’t know.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

"Was that...why?"

Y/N’s thoughts ran wild — fragments of memories she hadn’t questioned at the time. Nights he’d disappear for a little too long. Moods that shifted without warning. The way he’d go quiet, distant, for no reason she could figure out. Her gut had tugged at her back then — but he always smiled, always kissed her forehead, always said he was just tired.

“I thought I was going crazy,” she murmured. “When he left, I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Like I loved him too much, or needed too much.”

Serena’s voice softened. “You didn’t. He just wasn’t ready to let someone love him like that.”

Y/N looked down at her lap. “I was waiting for him that day, you know? At the café. I waited for an hour. I thought he was just late. Then the text came, and it was so... cold. No warning. Just ‘I’m sorry. Take care of yourself.’”

Serena frowned. “He said he didn’t know how else to do it. He said if he saw you, he’d stay. And he didn’t want to drag you into that.”

“That’s not his decision to make.”

“No, it’s not,” Serena agreed. “But people who are spiraling... they don’t think straight. They don’t think in ‘what’s fair.’ They think in survival. I don't know, I was not so nice to him about it either.”

Y/N’s eyes welled, but she blinked the tears back. “He blocked me everywhere, Rena. Every account. Like I was nothing.”

“I know.”

“God, I was so angry with myself. Picking apart every moment. Every time I raised my voice, every time I didn’t text back fast enough. I thought... I thought if I’d just been a little more—”

“Y/N,” Serena interrupted gently. “This wasn’t about you. None of it was.”

Y/N let her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly, trying not to fall apart again. Not over this. Not again.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” she said quietly. “That he was suffering and I didn’t know... or that he still didn’t trust me with the truth.”

Serena leaned over, rubbing her back lightly.

“He was ashamed,” she said. “And maybe he still is. But you? You were never the problem. You were just the one thing he thought he didn’t deserve.”

Y/N sat with that for a long time. The words settled heavy in her chest, warm and cold all at once.

“He could’ve told me,” she whispered.

“I know.”

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, knees pulled to her chest. Her fingers traced aimless patterns over the blanket draped over her legs, eyes unfocused and glassy. Serena sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, her back leaning against the couch, watching her in silence.

“Do you think I should call him?” Y/N whispered. The words slipped out like they’d been waiting in her throat for hours.

Serena tilted her head back against the cushion, looking up at her friend. “Honestly?”

Y/N nodded slowly, bracing herself.

Serena sighed. “No. I don’t think you should.”

Y/N didn’t react right away. Her jaw tensed, but she kept her eyes forward. “Because you hate him.”

“No,” Serena said, voice gentle but unwavering. “Because I love you.”

Silence stretched between them. Y/N’s throat was tight. She hated how those words could hurt more than comfort sometimes.

“I just…” Y/N swallowed. “What if I never understand why he left unless I ask? What if this is my only chance?”

Serena shifted to sit beside her on the couch, turning to face her fully. “Babe, he had his reasons. As shitty as they were. But does knowing them change what he did?”

“It might,” Y/N said quietly. “If he was in pain… if he was sick… then maybe it wasn’t about me at all.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t still break your heart.”

Y/N ran a hand down her face, frustrated and exhausted. “God, I know. But what if… what if the reason he left is exactly why we could work now? He’s clean, he’s sober. And he’s not hiding anymore.”

She looked at Serena, desperate for clarity that wouldn’t come.

“I keep thinking,” she said, voice cracking, “maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t love me. Maybe it was that he loved me too much and didn’t want me to see him like that.”

“Y/N…”

“No, listen,” she rushed on, her voice thin and trembling. “Maybe it scared him. Maybe he thought he was protecting me. And now he’s better and I’m still here and he’s still in my head and I feel so—so unfinished, Rena. Like there’s still this open wound that never closed because I never got to say anything. He just disappeared. He made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like I was disposable, and I was never okay after that.”

Serena took her hand gently. “You don’t need him to fix that, you know.”

“I don’t know anything anymore,” Y/N said, the tears coming now. “I don’t know if I want closure or if I want him. I don’t know if I miss him or if I just miss the version of me that was happy. He made me laugh, Rena. He’d say stupid shit just to make me smile. He used to kiss my forehead like it was the most sacred thing. Like I was some kind of... light in the middle of all his dark.”

Her voice broke on that last sentence. She covered her face with her hands, and Serena slid closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I know, baby,” Serena murmured. “I remember.”

Y/N cried for a while — not loud sobs, just quiet, breathy whimpers like a sound too old to still hurt this much. When she finally looked up, her face was puffy and red, mascara smudged under her eyes.

“What if he’s already moved on?” she asked, barely audible. “What if I call and he says he’s happy now? What if that girl you saw really is someone? What if she’s healthy and stable and... everything I’m not?”

“Then you cry,” Serena said. “And I bring ice cream. And we scream at the TV and bad-mouth his stupid golden retriever smile.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, even through her tears. “He really does have a stupid golden retriever smile.”

“You loved him. That’s not a crime.”

“I still do, Rena. That’s the worst part.”

Serena looked at her with sad, understanding eyes. “That doesn’t mean you have to go back.”

“But what if I don’t and I regret it for the rest of my life?”

“Then you’ll survive. You’ve already survived the worst part — him leaving.”

Y/N nodded, but the weight on her chest didn’t lift. She looked down at her lap, her thumb absently rubbing a spot on her wrist like a nervous tick. Her thoughts were loud and messy, like too many radio stations all fighting for attention in her head.

Was she being delusional? Was she romanticizing someone who shattered her? Or was this just the voice of healing — the one that wanted answers, peace, maybe even a second chance?

“I wish I had a sign,” she whispered. “Something to tell me if I should let it go... or fight for him.”

Serena stood and bent down to kiss the top of her head. “Maybe the sign is that you’re still not sure. And maybe... that’s okay.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She just sat in the stillness of it all — torn between past and present, between hope and self-preservation.

That night, when she lay in bed, she stared at her phone far too long. Bob’s contact wasn’t there anymore. But her fingers hovered over the search bar like they might summon something anyway.

A message she’d never send.

What if she texted him? What if he never replied? What if it opened a door she wasn’t ready to walk through—or worse, slammed it shut for good?

The silence pressed heavy against her chest, making it hard to breathe. The room felt too small, too empty, and yet it was filled with the ghosts of what they once were. She could almost hear the echo of his laugh, the way his blue eyes caught the light, that shy smile he gave when he wasn’t sure if he dared to hope.

Her heart twisted painfully. How could the same man who made her feel so alive have vanished like smoke?

Her fingers curled tight into the blanket, nails digging into the fabric, desperate for something real to hold onto.

She whispered into the darkness, voice fragile and raw:

“God, if you’re listening... if you ever listen to me at all... please... give me a sign. Please tell me if I should let go. If I should forget him and move on. Because I don’t know how to live with this waiting anymore.”

The silence answered back, cold and still.

“But if there’s even a chance,” she added, tears wetting her cheeks now, “if there’s any way that he’s still out there—if he’s not gone for good—then please, just tell me. Give me something. A sign that it’s not over.”

Her breath hitched as the panic rolled in waves, swelling in her chest and threatening to drown her. Her mind spun out — all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ twisting like barbed wire.

What if he’s hurting too? What if he’s scared? What if I’m the only one holding onto a ghost? What if I’m deluding myself into thinking we ever had a chance?

The room suddenly felt unbearably lonely.

“I don’t know if I can do this without him,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I want to be whole if it means he’s not part of it. But maybe... maybe he doesn’t want me. Maybe he already chose to forget me.”

Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her face, willing the tears to stop, but they came anyway — slow and steady, a river that refused to dry up.

“I’m so tired of pretending I’m okay,” she admitted. “I smile, I laugh with Serena, but inside I’m just a mess. I’m scared I’ll wake up one day and realize I’ve wasted my time waiting for someone who never wanted to stay.”

Her voice cracked with the weight of the truth she couldn’t say out loud.

“But I don’t know how to stop.”

The night deepened around her like a shroud. Y/N closed her eyes, heart pounding like a storm.

“Please,” she breathed one last time, a prayer thrown out to a universe that had always felt indifferent. “Please don’t let this be the end.”

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cameronsbabydoll · 2 months ago

Note

More angst more angst

SCC reader and Rafe get into a fight, probably about something small like she forgot to iron his work shirt so he had to do it himself. He’s yelling at her, making all these snide and mean comments trying to provoke her and she just looks at him with big teary eyes but doesn’t say anything back, she’s too exhausted.

She’s in her first trimester with their last kid and she’s probably in the worst mental state at this point, forgetting things, sleeping all day, being distant with Rafe, just sitting outside staring at the water.

After their fight she just hides out in her daughters room until bed time, she’s playing dolls, tea party, or watching a movie that reader used to like with her daughter, maybe their son comes in to join them watching the movie (her only refuge at this point)

But her little girl is smart and maybe asks her “momma why you sad?” Idk how old she is that this point but in my mind she’s maybe like 5-7. Reader just softly says that she’s just tired bc of the baby. Maybe her daughter gives her one of her stuffed animals to help her sleep better bc she’s a sweetheart like that.

After bedtime, reader locks herself in her and rafes bathroom sobbing with the stuffed bunny in her clutches. Rafe is in their room and he hears her entire breakdown, it’s eating him alive. He didn’t have to be so mean to her, she already gave him 2 kids, so what she forgot to iron a shirt? She’s growing a baby. His baby.

Reader comes out with tears down her face and starts prepping everyone’s clothes for the week, it’s 11 pm at this point, the house is quiet, but rafes mind is going a mile per minute. He tells her that she doesn’t need to do the laundry rn, that it’s late and she should get some sleep, he just casually says that he’ll hire a housekeeper/maid to help her with the house now bc she’s got bigger things to worry abt than his stupid clothes.

“Money can’t fix all our problems Rafe”

Reader is just baffled at how quick he tries to throw money at the problem. Just hire a maid, hire a housekeeper, hire a chef, hire a babysitter. He can’t throw money at this problem tho, she’s unhappy and he sees that. It’s hard to pretend now. The reality is staring him in the face.

He tries to hug her bc she’s still crying maybe she just rejects it fully and she just says “I don’t know if I can live like this anymore”

Now he’s freaking out. Is she trying to leave him? Is there another man? Are their children actually his?

She just stares outside to the ocean. “ maybe I’ll just walk into the sea and let it take me, anywhere is better than here right now.”

Rafe literally stops in his tracks once he understands the gravity of what she’s saying. He gets her a therapist that next morning.

stuffed bunnies & silence

content warnings (cw): emotional neglect, verbal argument, pregnancy-related depression, implied prenatal anxiety, crying breakdown, child emotional awareness, emotional vulnerability, themes of exhaustion and isolation in motherhood

you forgot to iron his shirt.

it wasn’t on purpose. you’d meant to. you always did. but this morning your head was heavy and your back hurt and the second your eyes opened, the nausea rolled in like a wave. so no, you didn’t iron the shirt. and now rafe’s standing in the doorway, holding it up like some kind of trophy in a screaming match you didn’t want to be a part of.

“you don’t do anything anymore,” he snaps. “you just fucking lay around all day. i have to do everything myself.”

you don’t say anything.

you just look at him with wet eyes, lip trembling, shoulders drawn in tight. your hand instinctively covers your belly, not even showing yet, but already wrecking you. your body, your mind, your heart. everything hurts, and he’s acting like a wrinkled shirt is the end of the goddamn world.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, yanking it on and brushing past you. “don’t just fucking stand there like a kicked puppy. say something.”

but you can’t.

so you hide.

you find yourself in your daughter’s room, the softest place in the house. she’s on the floor with her dolls, her legs tangled in a blanket, humming to herself. you sit with her, quiet, letting her hand you teacups and glittery plastic spoons. at some point your son wanders in and settles beside you, and they start playing a movie — one you used to love when you were a kid. you stare at the screen but you’re not really watching.

your daughter notices. she always does.

“mommy?” she asks gently.

you hum in response, too tired to speak.

“why you sad?”

your throat tightens. you force a smile, stroking her hair.

“just tired, baby. the baby’s makin’ mommy real sleepy.”

she nods like she understands. then disappears and returns with her favorite stuffed bunny — soft and worn down, with one floppy ear and a stitched-up leg. she sets it in your lap.

“she helps me sleep when i’m sad. you can borrow her.”

that’s when your chest breaks. you hug her tight and thank her, barely holding it together.

bedtime comes. the house goes still. you slip into the bathroom and lock the door behind you. you sit on the cold tile and cry into that bunny until your chest aches and your face is blotchy. deep, ugly sobs. it’s not just the pregnancy. it’s everything. you’re drowning, and no one sees it but you.

except rafe hears.

he’s on the other side of the door, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. his shirt is wrinkled and suddenly he feels like the biggest asshole in the world. you’re growing his third kid, and he made you cry over a goddamn shirt.

when you come out, your face is swollen and your nose is red, but you keep moving. you head straight to the laundry room and start folding clothes. it’s past 11. you haven’t eaten. your legs shake a little.

“you don’t have to do that right now,” rafe says quietly. “it’s late. come to bed. i’ll hire someone. a maid. a housekeeper. whatever you need. you shouldn’t have to do all this.”

you pause.

and then, with that same quiet voice you’ve had all day, you look at him and say:

“money can’t fix all our problems, rafe.”

and for once, he doesn’t have anything to say. because you’re right. and this time, he can’t throw money at the wreckage and pretend it’s fine. not when you’re standing there, holding a child’s stuffed bunny like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart

#anons ♡⸝⸝#sugar coated chains ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა #rafe cameron #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x yn #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe obx #cameronsbabydoll ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#rafe cameron angst

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slashed2death · 4 months ago

Note

Hii! I hope this is okay to ask, but do you have any hcs for slashers and their s/o's who are sensitive to loud noise? Like people shouting, loud music/partying, fireworks; etc. S/O covering their ears or shaking a bit cause the loud noise is just too much for them? It could be cause of past trauma with loud noises or their ears just being a bit on the sensitive side! How do you think the slashers would react/comfort them? I hope that makes sense :'') Currently so obsessed with RZ Micheal and Thomas Hewitt, you can include any of the other slashers too if you want!! :D

hi hi!!! of course id be happy to write this! i find myself experiencing similar issues so this is largely based off my own experience. added some of my comfort slashers (hannibal and jason) as well!

warnings: mentions of panic attack/ptsd/undisclosed past trauma. general warnings for murder/violence (not inflicted upon reader ofc) if i forgot anything please let me know <3

RZ! MICHAEL MYERS

- you typically don't have to worry about loud parties or things of that nature with michael. he isn't the sort to throw a party like that, for obvious reasons

- but lets say your 'friends' peer pressured you into going to one.

You didn't want to be here, but when you agreed your supposed friends had promised it was just a small get together. Nothing to worry about! Things wouldn't be too loud, so you thought maybe you'd have a fun night out, right?

But you were wrong. So very wrong. The music was so loud and overstimulating - you'd managed to lock yourself in some random bedroom wher the music and laughing wasn't a bit muffled. Back sliding down the door, you cover your ears and feel a few stray tears go down your cheeks. You should never have agreed to this. You should have just stayed home with Michael. And lord knows the taller man wanted you too. It took forever to convince him it was just a small get together for your friends birthday; you wouldn’t be gone for too long. You promised him you would be okay.

In your panicked crying you hadn't noticed the music stop, or the screams of terror that turned to silence. The panic attack too strong for you to really perceive anything other than your stress. That is, at least, until the door behind you swings open.

You quickly wipe your eyes, glancing up to see your boyfriend in all his bloody glory.

Covered in blood, he stares down at you, lightly tilting his head. You don't really care though, rushing toward him and enveloping him in your arms as you cried into his chest. It takes a second for him to register that you're hugging him before he slowly, yet protectively, wraps his arms around your smaller frame.

"Y-you were right Michael-" You sobbed out, "I-I shouldn't have gone... t-they made me feel like I had to go b-but-" Your sobs are cut off by his grip possessively tightening around you.

"Can we go home...?" You look up at him, large (E/C) eyes glancing up into the seemingly empty holes of his mask. He slowly nods, picking you up and walking out the house, keeping your face hidden in his shoulder so your eyes avoided the bloodshed.

- safe to say he's not letting you go out to a party ever again.

- the night afterward is spent with you huddled into his side watching a horror movie as you fall asleep.

THOMAS HEWITT

- there aren't really any crazy parties or fireworks where the hewitt's residence is.

- but that doesn't mean it doesnt get loud!

- anytime a new victim strolls through, things get quite loud and messy.

It was summer, sunlight pouring through the windows of the kitchen as you lightly hummed to yourself. At the moment you were doing your chores; that of which were assigned by Luda Mae. Normally she would be here helping you, however she had to take care of some business back at the gas station. The house was quiet, safe for the tunes flowing out of the radio sitting on the counter. That was, until the front door slammed open, loudly hitting the wall and startling you.

You flinched so hard you dropped a plate, but did not have much time to react before a man you'd never seen before comes barging into the kitchen screaming obscenities as he ran from what you presumed to be your boyfriend.

"HELP- FUCK HE'S GOING TO KILL ME!" He exclaims, grabbing you by the shoulders. You freeze up; his loud voice and the previous loud thumps of his footsteps reminding you of... unpleasant moments from your childhood. You try to free yourself from his grasp, only for his expression to turn angry and his grip to tighten.

"YOU'RE ONE OF THOSE FUCKING KILLER FREAKS TOO AREN'T YOU?! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL-" His voice is cut off, however, by an axe being thrown and landing itself in the back of his skull. His grip loosens from your shoulders, fortunately. Unfortunately his larger frame, now deceased, falls ontop of you. You scream, starting to hyperventilate as tears start pouring from your eyes.

As quickly as he fell, he is pulled off of you. You're gently pulled up and escorted into the living room. Thomas sits you down on the couch before cupping your cheek in his palm. He runs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping away any stray tears before pulling you into his chest until your breathing starts to even out.

Once you calm down a bit more, you relax into his arms.

"Sorry Tommy... I didn't mean to freak out so bad- He just scared me so much," You say, looking up at him before he shakes his head as if to say Don't apologize.

- after this incident, thomas does his best to keep you in your shared bedroom whenever a victim is near. he does everything he can to keep you away from any and all murder business the family participates in.

- if you do ever have any panic attacks, trust and believe the larger man will be there to bear hug you into calming down.

JASON VOORHEES

- jason does everything he can to keep you away from any trespassers looking to party.

- he views you as an angel- something pure and innocent. he doesn't want them to taint you in any way.

- if, however, you do get caught up in some of their unsightly activities, jason is there to take care of it.

You smiled as you sat on the dock, basking in the warmth of the sun as the calming sound of the water beneath you lulled you into a relaxed state.

Jason was doing his rounds, making sure no trespassers had encroached upon the camp. He knew you'd be here, as you so often were. You'd made it a habit to read by the docks.

Your peace was short lived by the sounds of whooping and laughter, music emitting from a loud radio as a group of teens ran toward the dock, presumably to do things you knew Jason would not approve of.

You start quickly packing away your things, trying your best to get out before they reached you or noticed your presence. Before you can make a break for it, an aggressive and presumably intoxicated male grabs your arm roughly.

"Where ya goin' pretty thing? Not gonna have some fun with us?" He says with a smirk, you try to get your arm back but his grip tightens.

The music is blaring now, causing your heart to race even more. What makes it worse is some of the guys in the group are whistling at you and making crude comments.

They're expecting a response it seems, yet you can't quite get the words out of your throat. You'd never been good at any kind of confrontation, and apparently you trying to pull away wasn't enough of a response.

Theyre laughing at your attempts to get away- so loudly, and the music is too loud, and it feels like the world is spinning around you, and its too much-

Then suddenly the man is torn off of you, machete portruding through his chest. He doesn't even scream- just gargles on his own blood as he limply falls to the ground. The two other males try to run, only for two throwing axes to meet the back of their skulls. The girl holding the radio has her face slammed into a tree repeatedly. The radio is crushed. The only sounds now are the waves gently hitting the shore and cicadas crowing in the grass.

You don't even realize you fallen to you knees crying until Jason gently scoops you up in his much stronger arms. He's caged you into his broad chest, shielding you from the grotesque scene behind him. Between the sounds of nature and the gentle footsteps he took toward your cabin, you had tremendously calmed down.

"Thanks for saving me, Jay," You say, nuzzling your head closer to his chest.

- he'd do anything to keep you safe.

HANNIBAL LECTER

- most days in the lecter household are calm and quiet, just how you like it. hannibal knows of your fear and past trauma, and takes great care to make your shared home a safe environment.

- he takes your safety rather seriously, you've got this man wrapped around your finger, as he does with you.

- but once a patient got rather ballsy.

It was mid-afternoon. You had come to Hannibal's office to surprise him with lunch. He'd been getting a bit overloaded with work as of late, both with patients and the FBI. It started to put a strain on how much you saw him. You figured he would appreciate the gesture.

You get out of your car, grabbing the small containers of lunch from your backseat before locking your car doors. Approaching the double doors to his office, you feel in your stomach that something isn't right. But you reasoned with yourself you were just being paranoid, after all you'd experience anxiety like this before.

Walking into his waiting room you hear muffled yelling and a crash, before the doors to his office are slammed open and a man comes storming out, still yelling obscenities.

He roughly shoulder checks you as he storms out, slamming the doors to the building behind him. All the chaos triggers a panic attack to form in your chest as your breathing quickens. Your hands shake so much you drop the containers of food you had brought in. Walking out of his office, Hannibal quickly notices your shaking and anxious figure and rushes toward you.

"My dear, come sit down," He coaxes you to one of the chairs in his waiting room "There we go, dearest," He smiles gently as you look up at him; tears rimming your lash line.

"Breathe with me," He says, placing his hand on your shoulder as he takes a deep breathe with you. Then releasing his breath as you shakily breathe out. He makes you repeat the process until your breathing has calmed down. His hand reaches up to gently lay against your cheek, and his thumb brushes away the stray tears left on your face.

"There, much better. May I ask what brought you here, my love?" He asks gently, eyeing the now discarded food containers on the ground before he smiles at you again.

"Were you trying to surprise me with lunch?" You nodded shakily, and his smile grows.

"Don't worry dear, I won't let this moment go to waste. And don't worry about that man, you know how much I detest the rude,"

- that night you had pig for dinner.

#hannibal lecter x reader #jason voorhees x reader #rz michael myers x reader #michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #yandere slasher #yandere slashers

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at-this-point-i-dont-even-know · 15 days ago

Text

Always and Forever (2/?)Jack Abbott x Reader

About: Jack Abbott lost his wife in the war, and her memory haunts him for six years, three months and twenty four days.

Warnings: MDNI- smut and angst ahead - I don't know anything medical or anything military so everything is just a guess

A/N: I have split this in half because this chapter was getting away from me, this half is already 8 pages long.....

tag list: princessjayll

part one/part three

It was so noisy when you awoke, the sound of blades banging over head, richocing through your pounding head. You tried to sit up and grab your aching skull, as if you could calm it with your touch.

Ice fills your veins as you pull against the soft restraints that hold you in place.

God please not again you cry out, either internally or vocally, you no longer knew the difference.

Please just let me go, you sobbed over and over again.

So time passed and your grief came in waves.

The first few weeks (you guessed), you were calm, saying only what you had been told to in training. You told them your name, your rank as a Field Doctor and your ID number. You repeated it over and over again, as they tried to get anything further out of you.

After that came the rage, you swore at your captors, screaming, calling them all the worst words you knew under the sun. And since you knew three languages fluently, and all the swear words of two others, it kept you entertained as the beatings finally stopped.

You skipped over bargaining, there was nothing you knew that would give you your freedom, and depression, well that stage stayed from day one until now.

You had no idea how long you had been a captive for, there were no calendars to tell you the passage of time, and all the movies that show prisoners scratching out days on the walls lied. No captor would give a captee anything strong enough to mark up a wall. Then they had let you out, freedom as long as you didn’t run. You stayed, helping the women and the children. You think the war may have ended in the time you were there but you didn’t know. You didn’t speak their language and they didn’t speak yours. So you nursed the sick and helped the injured, then curled up in the tiny bed you were given and mourned the life you had known.

The only thing that kept you sane, was the memory of him.

Doctor Jack Abbott, your best friend and husband.

It was his memory that kept everything at bay when the pain came too much or the darkness too dark.

--------------------------------------------------

You hated him at first, he was arrogant and talkative from the moment he walked into your medi-tent. You were hands deep in a civilian, who happened to be on the wrong side of the road when an IED went off, when he sauntered in, flashing you a cocky grin before one of the nurses strapped a mask over it.

“Who do we have here?” he asked, looking at the patient instead of you. Your hackles were up, besides you and your sister there was only one other female surgeon in the area, so you were prepared for him to treat you like a nurse besides the fact you were the one running the operation and the one with blood up to your elbows. The last doctor who had worked alongside you had done that, and the one before, you were sick of the arrogance of male doctors.

“Female, late forties, shrapnel in chest and upper thigh, uncontrollable bleeding in the gut, unknown origin.” you call out the situation without looking at him, your fingers expertly running the intestine looking for any nicks or damage.

“Have you checked no man's land?” His question has you rolling your eyes and you can’t help but pause your work to look at him through your eyelashes.

“No- I just thought I would run the bowel for no fucking reason.” you hissed and he laughed.

He fucking laughed and you curses.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Doctor Jack Abbott, it's nice to meet you.” Even with the mask on you could see him smile through the material, and it makes you want to throw something at his face. This was no place for smiling.

---------------------------------------------------

You feel yourself dozing off again, energy gone from your bones as the sound you hear finally connects with your long forgotten memories.

Helicopter.

You were in a helicopter. You hadn’t been in one of these since your captor, so either those who had you had finally advanced their situation beyond anything they had had before, or you were rescued.

You were not dumb enough to fall for the idea of a rescue.

That would be idiotic.

And childish.

-------------------------------------------------

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“What?”

“Your favourite colour, what is it?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I think we are going to be together for a while, and I want to know your favourite colour.”

“No offense Dr Abbott, but fuck off.” You turn away from him mid scrub and finish up at a different basin, feeling his eyes on you.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

You scoff and he laughs. The sound isn’t as jarring as it should be. You ignore that.

“I don’t need to get to know you Dr Abbott, I know your type. You signed up for the army so they could do what? Pay off your school fees? Get you away from your wife? You look like you have one tour in you, then you’ll go to the reserves and then once you’re Stateside in a cushy job in a private hospital you can tell tales of your time in the Army over drinks with your friends who will all think you're hot shit for being so brave.”

Your words stopped him in his tracks and he turned to look you straight on.

“You’re wrong, on all fronts, I’m here because I want to help, and as for a cushy job stateside, I did my internship and residency in Emergency Medicine at John Hopskins. I’ve seen my fair share of bloodied and bruised bodies. I have spent days in an OR stitching back woman and children that have been attacked in their homes by ICE, or gangs, or their own fucking flesh and blood, long before you even finished your senior year of high school. I came to this god forsaken place to find a reason for it all. And as for tours, I’m on my third and I’m here as long as they will have me. Is that good enough for you, sunshine?”

You nod, taking it all in, this man before you with his salt and pepper hair aging before his time and his eyes that lit up with fire behind them with every word.

“And-” he said, with that shit eating grin back on his face, “I’m not married.”

You nod again and run your hands under the limited water you have.

“My favourite colour is Lavender, it's also my favourite smell and flower.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You awake again, still strapped with the soft restraints but this time as you throw your head back to take in your surroundings you don’t hit rock or cement but a pillow.

A fucking pillow.

That's all it takes for a sob to rip through you and for you to finally register where you are.

It is a helicopter, now on the ground, with english signs above the door and american voices coming from the cockpit.

“Fuck-” you breathe out and then flinch as the voices become louder, a body coming towards you, bending to not hit their head on the roof.

“It's good to see you Doc!”

You look up at the young face of the soldier before you, he has freckles over his nose and a boyish look that you can’t help but smile at.

“Is this real?” your voice is crackly and exhausted from only three words.

“As real as it can be.” the young soldier promised, “We are heading to Germany for a quick check up with a doctor there and then hopefully by the end of the week we will have you back on American soil!”

Home.

To your sister.

To Jack.

You can’t stop the laugh that breaks through.

It's over.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“I was wrong about you.” you laugh as the afternoon finally settles.

You and Jack have been juggling patients for over three hours, what started out as a simple clinic day had ended with two amputations and one soldier heading home early without his spleen.

So as you scrubbed out, you can’t help but enjoy the sight of Dr Abbott losing a fight with his mask, the knot not breaking against his strength and his fingers too exhausted to complete the simple action he finally just dragged it over his face, a crinkle forming between his brow.

“Really?”

“Yeah- I was awful when you joined, I’m sorry.”

You might be a bitch, taking after your oldest sister, but you knew when to admit when you were wrong and your first impression of the cocky doctor before you was very wrong.

He was still cocky, but he was smart, quick thinking and kind. So much kinder to all, you had forgotten what kindness was after your own two tours.

He was a breath of fresh air in the warm desert climate, and you couldn’t help but enjoy every moment with him.

“Do you want to get a drink?”

You raise a brow.

“Did a new bar open up in downtown Nowheresville that I didn’t know about?”

“I have two warm American Cokes in my bag that I think have our names on.”

You laugh and he smiles, and god you want to see him smile more. It was like someone turned on a light after you had spent years in the dark.

You stop suddenly, your heart beating in your throat.

Oh.

You have a crush!

Fuck!

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Physically other than dehydration, she’s fine. She has a few broken bones that have healed at angles that are not fantastic but as long as she is okay with not running some marathons in the next few months, I can’t see any reason for keeping her here.”

The heavily German accented doctor was talking to someone on the phone when you awoke, the soft restraints gone and now your hands are free and you're laying back down on a mattress, a hospital mattress that feels too soft against your exhausted body.

“Doctor-”

“I have to go Doctor Walsh, your sister will be on the next plane out of here to Pittsburgh tonight.”

Your sister! You hold your hand out, trying to grab at the phone before the doctor hangs up but he turns away from you and leaves the room without a word or even a glance at your outstretched hand.

Emery! You wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack kissed like he performed surgery, with a passion that had your knees buckling and your body falling into his.

He pulled her closer, and they fell backwards into the thankfully empty med tent.

The whole camp had cleared out earlier that day, except for you two and a handful of soldiers who were too busy losing all their money to each other in poker to notice as you and Jack slipped away.

You two had been skirting around each other for months, stealing glances or touches like you had stepped out of one of your Victorian Mills and Boon novels.

Tonight was meant to be a quiet night, where you would pack up your kits and be ready to leave the next morning, but after you beat Jack in poker and then made one or two meaner comments on his manhood, the tension between you both was tangible.

“Lets get some air.” he had growled into your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

You nod, not trusting your own voice at this point.

“Do you have something you need to tell me?” He asked as soon as you were out of earshot of the others.

You only smirk, and push him lightly on the shoulder, the words you want to say are lost on your tongue as his eyes reflect the full moon above you.

You didn’t have the words to explain what you had to tell him, how do you tell someone that he walked into your life when you were at your lowest, when you were so disillusioned by the entire concept of life and while you were not looking for an escape you were also not looking for a saviour. How his incentent chatter during clinic hours, surgeries or even dinner had turned from irritating to a calming balm against your own demons. How he was your favourite reason to get out of your bunk every day.

You stare at him, and stop walking, stopping just before your tent door and grab the lapels of his shirt.

“I like you.” you admit, the words heavy between you and he just stares so long at you that your stomach drops and you let go, stepping away.

He doesn’t think the same as you immediately think and you start to turn away, your face flushed with embarrassment before he grabs you, pulling you back to him.

“Thank god-” he breathed out, “I thought it was just me!”

The taste of him was like coming home, you moaned against his lips, unable to stop yourself.

The sound was Jack's undoing and his hands, now entwined in your hair, dug into your scalp and he pulled your head up slightly.

He was taller than you, so with this new angle you look up at him, and he bites gently at your lips.

Your hands don’t stop roving over his body, ripping away his jacket and undershirt, you are desperate for skin, to feel his warm soft skin against your calloused hands.

He kisses you again, his tongue fighting yours as you both burned for each other. Jack lets go of our hair and his hands now snake around your body, grabbing your ass and lifting you into the air. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and you can't stop the moan as the friction of your pants tightening around your heat.

“Fuck- Jack.” you say against his ear as he kisses down your neck.

“That’s the plan, babe.”

“Ew! I hate babe!” you laugh as he nips at your collar bone.

He grounds into you, and you cling tighter as he moves you both to the cot, with one hand holding you in place he throws all his packing onto the dust covered floor.

You laugh as he tosses you onto the now empty bed and steps back, looking at you like you are prey and he is a hungry predator.

You were not a virgin, not even close, but you had never had anyone look at you like that.

He moves slowly, his fingers trailing over your body as he unbuttons your simple uniform shirt, you help him shrug it off before he grasps your trouser button and rips it off. The moment is almost cinematic until you both realise you had forgotten to remove your boots.

Suddenly the magic of the moment is gone and you are both laughing as Jack struggles to remove them.

“Seriously! How do these even fit you!” he hisses as the boots refuse to move.

You push him out of the way before getting up to kick them off. Jack leans against a crate of boxes, his eyes tracking the movement as you dance around the tent trying to get the boots off.

“I should sell tickets to this show.” he muses out loud and you stop, cocking your brow and putting your hands on your hips. It would be a formidable look if you were not topless, with your trousers around your ankles with only one boot on.

“You want others to see me like this?”

“God no!” he growled before pulling you to him, your lips colliding as he kissed away any further protest.

You both fall back into the cot, your body wrapped around each other as you grind against the length of him, still wrapped in army issued trousers you whine against the friction.

You needed him in that moment, in every moment, your body ached for more.

Your tongues tangle, and you could feel his heartbeat against yours, before he broke the kiss, causing another whine form your lips. You blush at how vocal you are with him, but he only smirks and nips at your bottom lip.

“I could listen to you all day.” he purred before shifting down the cot, his face now level with your crotch.

As your eyes locked, he slid a finger into you, pumping it in and out agonisingly slowly as you pushed up into his touch.

More you begged, internally or externally you were not even sure any more as Jack took his time, laughing as you tried to take his finger deeper.

“Patience.” he purred again, this time his breath against your inner thigh, you flinched at the contact of cool air against your now vey sweaty skin, and he licked your leg, before returning to his minstations, adding another finger.

You rode his hand, grinding into him as he cursed your name, your mind scattering into oblivion as your body bowed off the cot as you succumbed to the climax screaming his name.

He didn’t stop to give you a moment, his tongue now joining his fingers he pulled you immediately into another earth shattering ending, your body now screaming for a release from the enjoyable torture.

“Gods-” you said as he finally let you go, your body already missing his attention as he crawled into the cot next to you, pulling you to his chest as you felt sleep overtaking you.

“You didn’t-” you tried to say, to argue that he didn’t get his own happy ending, but he just kissed your temple and told you to get some sleep.

“There is plenty of time for me." he promised.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The flight from Germany to America was somehow both long and short at the same time.

You were given a shot of something in your now always present IV bag that had you falling asleep before the young soldier who had now been with you for multiple days could even get your gurney wheeled onto the carrier.

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean you had awoken from your drug induced sleep with a start, screaming from a nightmare that you couldn’t quite remember as you tried to readjust to reality.

The young soldier, who once again told you his name and then you promptly forgot it again, had handed you an ipad with a newspaper app open.

“It might be good- to see what's been happening.” he said, his accent twanging on each vowel.

“Where are you from?” you asked, quietly, your voice still not really back.

“Arizona, Madame.” he said before turning back to the magazine he had been reading.

You smiled weakly, “I bought a house in Arizona with my husband,” the boy turned and looked at you, “It has a wrap-around porch and big windows that look out over the Tucson Mountains.”

“Did you love the sunsets? I miss the sunsets when I’m away.”

You sigh and look up at the roof of the plane, “I never got there, we bought it when we were shipped out. I was about two weeks away from going home when I was-” you can’t bring yourself to say the rest, “But I hope to see it soon.”

“I hope you see it too Madame.”

#fanfiction #dr jack abbot #jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbott x you #dr jack abbott #dr abbott #jack abbot fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abott

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evie-sturns · 1 year ago

Text

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

summary: you and chris have a major argument, which results in you storming out of you and chris's house. he regrets everything, but it results in him saying 'i love you' for the first time.

warnings: angst, swearing, argument, crying, fluff, happy ending!

-----------------*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*--------------------

me and chris have been dating for two months, we've never fought, i mean we've bickered, but never a real argument. we've done alot together, we have a house together, 2 cats, we've hooked up tens of times, but never said those 3 words.

'i love you'.

i think both of us are just terrified of scaring the other person away.

"chris! i'm home!" i say, walking through the front door as i put my purse down.

no response.

chris is sitting on the couch, my phone on his lap.

"why do you have my phone baby?" I say, jumping down next to him.

"i think we both know." his voice is filled with emotion, he clenched the pepsi can in his right hand tighter.

i reach out a hand, placing it gently on his thigh, he grabs my wrist and throws my hand towards me, my shoulder is tweaked slightly.

"don't fucking touch me!" he says, looking at me in disgust, raising his voice as he stands up.

my eyebrows furrow from pure confusion as i follow him, standing up and facing him.

"tell me whats happening christopher." i say sternly, my shoulder pulses from the sudden jolt.

chris knows when i use his full name i mean it, i don't just throw it around because of how formal it is.

chris glares down at me before slamming the pepsi can to the floor.

"all these fucking months, all these hookups, all these deep talks, everything meant nothing to you?!" he yells, my heart sinks, ive never liked people yelling at me.

i've always had an attitude, chris knows how to deal with it.

"look, if you dont open your fucking mouth instead of flaming me for something i don't even know, i'm out of here yeah?" i snap back, folding my arms.

"you're so pathetic." he mutters, pushing my shoulder back.

"stop touching me chris!" i scream. squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists like a toddler.

he scoffs.

a silence grows before i flop down on the couch, clutching my shoulder. i pat the spot next to me, signalling for him to sit down, hoping we can talk it out.

he takes a step back before yelling, "go call mark, cause he clearly loves you so much!" his voice cracking.

my eyes widen.

"so fuck you!" he yells, i stand up.

his cheeks are flushed his eyes are glossy, chris's bottom lip is quivering.

my gaze softens, but instantly flicks back to a harsh one as chris starts again.

"im done with you're shit y/n, go home! for once in your life just leave. me. alone." he says, his tone cold.

i've never cried in front of chris, i don't cry often and if i do, im always alone. but the way he was looking at me broke something in me.

several tears fall down my cheek as i look up at chris. the tears increase as i just stare at him, his mouth gapes slightly. his eyebrows tilt up above his nose.

i push past him, grabbing my purse and running out the door, chris is speed-walking after me, before i slam the door shut, i yell out.

"by the way chris. mark is my fucking dad." my voice shakes as the tears don't slow.

an audible gasp escapes from chris's lips right before the door shuts.

two days ago i stormed through the door to my best friends house, sobbing as she comforted me.

i haven’t texted chris in those two days, but he’s been spamming my phone nonstop.

I sigh, sitting my head up off my best friend, amelia’s chest. “you okay?” she asks, pausing the movie which is playing on her macbook.

“did you not hear?” i ask, adjusting my sweater

“hear what..?” she asks, her eyebrowints furrowing in confusion

“you’re doorbell just rang, i’ll go get it okay?” i say, giving amelia a warm smile as i run downstairs.

i open the door, my heart sinks.

“chris?” i say, taking a nervous step back

his hand is clutched onto a stuffed animal, and a hand picked flower, which is dropping to the side slightly now. chris’s eyes are swollen, his nose red.

“i- uh.. um.” he stammers looking around

i stay silent, waiting for him to start,

he holds a hand out “can we go sit in my car i uh..” he says, his voice cracking

chris has always said his car is his comfort place, the area he feels safest, so i don’t shut him down yet.

i take his hand “amelia! i’ll be back in a few minutes” i yell as i close the front door behind me.

the walk down the driveway is silent, i can feel chris’s hand growing more sweaty by the second. he opens the door for me, the passenger seat has a blanket on it, with a packet of painkillers resting in the middle.

“what’s the pills for?” i ask, looking over my shoulder at chris.

“your shoulder..” he says, a guilty expression plastered across his face.

i nod understandably, sitting down in the car seat.

chris walks over to the driver side, climbing inside.

he lets out an audible swallow before opening his mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

“shit.. sorry ‘m really nervous..” chris says, holding onto a pepsi can.

“i’m so sorry, for even assuming the worst. i feel like an absolute goof for thinking your dad was another person..” he pauses for a second, quickly rubbing his under eyes

“and i was just hurt, i don’t even know why i thought mark was someone else, i should’ve never touched you i feel like shit about that too, and i’ve never seen you cry, so seeing what i had done to effect you just shattered my heart, i just don’t want to loose you and i.. i” he takes in a deep breath

“i love you.”

the rest of his words don’t get through to me, my heart is fluttering, i look over at him, chris’s cheeks are flushed red as his mouth moves quicker than his brain, i lean over the centre console, shutting him up with a kiss.

after a few seconds i pull away, “i love you too christopher.”

i run back inside, thanking amelia and telling her everything chris said, amelia is practically crying tears of joy as she hugs me, “go go! go back to his house i love you y/n!” she says, a smile spread ear to ear on her face.

i run back outside to chris, climbing inside his car.

the rest of the conversations go like this.

“are you sure your shoulders okay?”

“chris you barely touched me.”

“no but i made you cry y/n.”

“yeah, not because of the shoulder sweetheart.”

“well i told matt and nick what happened and then ordered a private doctor to come assess you..”

“chris.”

——————————————————————————

ayeee hope y’all like!!

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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demonic0angel · 3 months ago

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Saw the post about Danny getting trapped in an mp3 player that was turned into a ghost trap and him getting bound to Gotham. Can we perhaps see some angst relating to Danny realizing he's been away from his home, his friends, his family, and his haunt for seven years? It's my understanding that if someone goes missing for seven years, they're legally considered dead. Maybe Sam and Tucker are trying to find a fully dead Phantom in their free time along with Jazz and Dani. Dan is probably trying to keep Vlad in check, and the Fenton parents probably think ghosts kidnapped their son, so they're probably more aggressive towards ghosts. They probably made the mp3 trap a while ago and forgot about it and tossed the blueprints in a random filing cabinet. The spirit of Gotham, meanwhile, is actively hiding Danny from everyone while she throws Danny on everything from muggings to supernatural threats in order to keep her curses in check. She even gives him a cheap little apartment, sure it's dirty and smells, but Danny could fix it up

Part 1

Danny hugged himself as he sat in the corner of an old apartment building. He looked out the window, at the unfamiliar sights around him and couldn’t help but wonder if his family was doing alright.

Had Sam and Tucker remained friends? (He knew that he was often a mediator, but did they leave each other after he left? He didn’t know what answer he would’ve wanted.)

Was Dani still exploring the world? (Was she oblivious to his absence?)

Was Dan doing alright? Was he still an asshole? (Had he replaced his place within the family?)

Was Jazz okay? Did she finish her college degree? Did she get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or did she move out of their childhood home? (Did she miss him? Did she look for him? Did she even care?)

Danny buried his face into his knees, wrapping his arms around his head to block out the noise of the world around him.

Noise that wasn’t the soft chatter of Amity Park, the murmuring of ghosts, and rustling noises of nature and life.

No, this was the sound of Gotham. The smell of decay and rot filled his nose with a pungent scent of corruption and evil.

Danny could not leave.

Gotham would not let him leave. And no wonder too, with all of this happening to her. She was probably desperate to keep him and make him stay so she could recover.

Danny sobbed.

Seven years.

He almost couldn’t believe it. How on earth had he been gone that long? It felt like only a few hours ago that he had been trying to go to the movies with Sam and Tucker, still embarrassed by Jazz’s goodbye kiss to his forehead, and waiting for messages from Dani about her adventures.

The sound of someone getting shot shook him out of his stupor and he cried harder, reaching upwards to cover his ears. The shrill ring of gunshots rang through his head, along with the high pitched cry of someone in pain.

The screaming and shouting continued.

His sensitive nose and ears could smell the blood and hear the whimpering cries, even as he shook his head to shake off the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. The cars were noisy and there was a strange burbling sound like water and sewage filling him.

“Please let me go,” he whispered to Lady Gotham. “I want to go home. Please let me go home!”

He didn’t want to meet Robin or Batman or any of the other heroes. This wasn’t his haunt. This wasn’t his home.

And they did not know him.

“Please…! Please let me go home!” He sobbed.

He was only a teen, now driven away from home and away from his family.

A heavy weight wrapped themselves around his shoulders and Danny cried hot tears as the heavy chill set itself on top of him, comforting but cold and desperate.

Lady Gotham would not let him go.

Not until he cleaned her up of the curses and darkness within her.

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ebonyslasher · 1 year ago

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Can you do more yandere slashers part 2 please.

Hopefully, I'm getting better at writing yandere characters! There are some possible triggering themes ahead so read with caution.

Roses are red, violets are blue

Here's

Yandere!Slashers Pt. 2!

A strained sob bounced against the dingy walls that you were held captive in. Your existence, normally happy and calm, turned desperate and miserable. You looked around with teary eyes, taking in your unfortunate new home. The air was littered with specks of dust, paint torn from the walls, and all the windows crudely covered and broken. It was a scene taken from a horror movie that you desperately did not want to be in. The tears silently flow down your face before the raggedy door flings open.

A shadowy, foreboding figure stood tall at the door frame. You recognized that figure, it was the one who kidnapped you to this horrid place.

“Please ... .please let me go…,” you whimpered out, your sobbing revitalizing before this monster. He stepped forward and you shrunk back. He stops. The next movement he made your heart stop. Michael flings a body beside you. The patch of light coming from the mostly covered window showed the gouged out eyes of your crush. They lay lifeless and their once beautiful face was now covered with blood.

The image of a dead body, especially of someone you knew, caused you to hyperventilate. Feeling an extreme urge to flee, you stand up and attempt to run towards the door. Michael grabs your arm painfully and throws you down.

“Let me go, let me go! You monster!” you screamed. You attempt to stand again when Michael kicks at your legs. He quickly places his dirty boot on your right leg, right on the tibia. Stomping down, Michael relishes in your painful cry after the sickening snap of your bone. You could not run from him and he could not be happier.

—--

Michael knew everyone who lived in Haddonfield. Most by their identifiable features and home addresses.

Michael stalked all his victims, but only for a short time as their existence would not last long.

However, if he becomes obsessed, not only will he stalk them every single day. He will keep them alive for an undecided amount of time.

As you place your existence in Haddonfield, Michael becomes hooked.

He paid attention to your needs, placing toiletries that you ran out of/low on in various places in your house. It escalates into leisure items that you spoke about with your friends. Things that he knew that you knew you did not purchase

Making himself known, he begins to appear and reappear in different places, from a distance. Toying with you.

Anyone who will get in the way will be removed, permanently. Especially any love interest.

He is not above harming you to make you submit, stay, and be quiet. He knew what was best for you.

Injuries looked especially good on you anyway

“Kitten ... .how disappointing,” Asa remarks, seeing the piss-poor excuse of a Valentine's Day present on his bed. It was made haphazardly, the paper mache butterfly looked tattered with paint, some sort of adhesive, and drenched paper.

Asa had shown you how to do the technique weeks ago, disguising the activity as a fun bonding moment. He made an off-handed comment that a paper mache insect would be a great gift for Valentine’s Day. Of course, his smart little kitty caught the hint. But, it was obvious that you did not practice enough.

You sat upon the bed, head down in embarrassment at the state of your gift. “Asa, I tried! I really did! You know I’m not that good at-” You started to explain. Asa put his hand up and you stopped talking immediately.

“You had ample time to practice, y/n. But, you did not. Therefore, you will be punished. Get on all fours on top of your disaster,” Asa instructed coldly. You did so, feeling humiliated at the action. You desperately wanted to make this up to him while also feeling apprehension at the punishment.

Asa starts to hit your back and ass with his hands. You endure, but the force of his hits ends up making you fall on top of your gift. The burn of his hits combined with the uncomfortable feeling of wet paper and glue slathering your stomach. It made you cry out, strengthening the boner Asa had.

---

Anyone who’s moving, living, or even traveling through the town gets observed by Asa. When you arrive, you capture his interest in ways he never thought possible.

He searched your name, address (and floor plan if available), and knew all your family members. He breaks in to look at everything you have.

He had notes dedicated to what you like to eat, what size of clothes you wear, etc.

Once he captures you, he doesn’t make you a part of his collection. Instead, you'll be his personal pet. A little kitty he can enjoy.

Life was starting to get a little boring. Your existence changed his life. He just needed to train you so you would not be useless to him.

His training includes the way you react (in the way that he likes), enduring physical punishment and sexual sensory overloads, how to care for him correctly, etc.

Any spouse, family, or friends that were living with you are now part of his collection. They would be a distraction to your duties.

If you perform extremely poorly, he will drag you across the floor to see any loved ones in the collection. Digging his fingers into your eyelids to force you to look at their display.

“Dr. Lecter?,” You asked as you knocked lightly on his office door. You let yourself into his practice, as was normal for your appointments.

“Y/N, please come in,” he said smoothly so as to not betray his excitement at your arrival.

You plop down on the sofa across from him and your weekly sessions begin. You’d had them for a month now. It was last week when you noticed that you were getting weirdly attached and attracted to Dr. Hannibal. It wasn’t right with the power dynamics in your current relationship. Also, all the blaring issues he knew about your life. This did not dissuade your budding feelings, with the unintentional help of Hannibal. He did not know that your conflicted romantic feelings were about him. It was like he always knew the right thing to say. He spurred your mind to think outside the box or his perspective. Everything he said, he seemed to always be right about.

“.....I feel a romantic connection to this person, but I know I shouldn’t,” You say.

“And why not?” He questioned

“Our relationship right now…it would be inappropriate to say the least.”

Hannibal leaned forward, his face schooled in its perfect neutral expression. Internally, he was fighting a smirk to bless his sharp features. “And what is love without risk?”

“....I…”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t know, y/n. I am merely throwing out a different perspective. You like this person right? What makes it inappropriate?”

“His…status and title do. The power dynamics would be unequal,” you say, trying to be as vague as possible.

“It will always be unequal. You possess powers that he would not have. And vice versa. Titles mean nothing. You see, I am your psychiatrist. I know who you are, I can see the power that you have. A relationship between you and me would be risky, in the eyes of others. But, only our eyes matter in the end.”

“A relationship between us two…?”

“Just as an example, Y/n. To help you see the big picture.”

You were his patient. He fell in love, becoming obsessed with you. You looked like the perfect partner, one to parade around at the envy of others.

He would make sure to format your mind to see how perfect you two would be. That he would be the only one for you.

Hannibal being Hannibal does this covertly, planting seeds into your head every session. He even stops taking payment for your appointments, to ensure you would still come.

The medication he would prescribe you was a level of biochemical control over your emotions. He knew the side effects and how the medication would affect your mood after you took them.

He acts like the perfect gentleman. He has perused your home, making sure to have items that you need or want coincidentally at appointments.

Anyone who is a threat to you or the budding relationship will be removed.

You will see them for the last time, served as a decadent meal. He will feed them to you, without your knowledge

“Taylor Layknn’s party is in two days, I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your look for you,” Patrick says dismissively. He thrust the outfit into your arms as he checked his phone. You stood flabbergasted at his gall.

“Patrick, I already had an outfit planned out,” you explain. You look over the outfit, trying to imagine how it would look on you.

“Yes I know, but I saw this while shopping and thought about you immediately. I knew it would be flattering on you. It goes with what I’m wearing. We’ll look great together.” Patrick looks straight into your eyes, watching your reaction.

You felt annoyed, a little offended, but flattered that he thought of you. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think that’s exactly my style.” You began to hand the outfit back to him. He thrusts the outfit back against your chest.

“It is your style and you don’t even know it. Here, look at how the color compliments your skin. How it’ll hug your figure in the right places. You know, most of these bitches don’t even know how to dress. You’ll be the talk of the night if you just listen to me.”

He tries to shelter your interactions from others, feeding you lies and pretending like he is giving you inside information to gain your trust

He purposefully talks bad and compassionate about others to uplift himself in your presence, disguising it as competition.

He is always extra with his appearance but was even more so when he knew you were going to be there.

He even wears the cologne that you love. He sends you flowers, your favorite ones, to show how much attention he paid to you

Once he has you wrapped around his finger, He tells you what to say and how to act. He needs you to be the perfect partner that even Paul Allen would be jealous of.

The desperate yuppie that he is needs you to look and act a certain way to fit in with the 'in-group'.

He buys you clothing and expects you to wear it for him. He will send you makeup tutorial videos that he likes.

Patrick will also send photos and videos of people with what he thinks is the ultimate body type. He will do whatever to shape and mold you into his perfect partner.

Patrick has a doll that looks like you in his office drawer. He dresses up in what he would want you to wear. He has another at home where he acts out fantasies of your eventual marriage.

He constantly questions where you are or slyly questions others. He gets mad if he isn’t invited anywhere, especially to his favorite place.

If he could, he dreams of hiring you as his personal assistant (if that was your profession). He has thought many times about firing his current assistant just to have you perched there, sitting pretty.

#slasher x reader #michael myers #asa emory #hannibal lecter #patrick bateman #black reader #michael myers x reader #asa emory x reader #hannibal lector x reader #patrick bateman x reader #yandere

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reallchristine · 11 months ago

Text

ENERGY ─ chapter two

pairing: logan howlett x !f!reader

Set during x-men (2000) and X2

warnings: angst, hurt, violence, bad grammar?😭, basically the plot of the first movie!

previous chapter <- -> next chapter

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You stand, unable to move as you watch your younger sister lying against the bedroom wall you shared. She utters your name in shock, clutching her chest in pain.

“No, no, no...” You shake your head as your mumbles turn into shouts, watching your sister struggle to breathe.

“Please!” You cry, choking on your sobs as you try to break the unforeseen barrier.

Trying to fix what you’ve done.

But it’s too late.

You jolt awake, sweating and gasping for air. You look around, only to be met with the darkness of your bedroom.

The memories of the accident haunt your dreams. You tried burying the thought of what happened in the past, but it follows you, acting as a reminder of what you’ve done.

Starting to calm down, you slide out of your blankets, put on the slippers that are on the floor beside your bed, and make your way out of your room and down the steps. You enter the hall and finally through the doorway of the kitchen.

You pour yourself a cup of water and sit on the stool, gulping down the water as you try not to think about the recurring dreams that wake you up at night. Instead, you think about the information Jean told you before you headed to bed.

She wanted to give you an update on what they found after Logan’s x-ray. Apparently, his bones were bonded with adamantium metal, and he was able to withstand the process because of his mutation, recalling what Jean had told you.

Before you can continue with your thoughts, you look up to see Logan entering the kitchen.

“Hi,” you say, greeting him with a timid smile.

“Hey.” he replies, as he starts to look around the kitchen.

“Uhm, are you looking for something?” you ask, watching him open the fridge and then close it right after. He turns to you, “Got any beer?”

“This is a school,” you say, staring at him.

“So, no?”

“No.” You reply, shaking your head as you find yourself amused by his odd question.

“If you want something to drink, there’s soda in that cupboard,” you tell him, pointing to its location. He walks up to it, opens the small cupboard door, and reaches for a soda.

“Thanks,” he says, twisting the bottle cap open as he takes a seat across from you. “So, you’re a teacher at this school?” he asks, striking up a conversation.

“Yup, I teach chemistry,” you reply.

“Chemistry, huh,” he says while taking a swig of his drink. He asks another question, “And how’s that working out for ya?”

“Surprisingly well,” you respond with a shrug, pausing as you continue. “I mean, I enjoy science, and I like being able to work with kids, so it’s nice.”

“Looks like that’s going nicely for you,” he says with a bit of humor in his tone.

“I guess you could say that,” you answer, moving off the stool you were sitting on to put away the now-empty cup.

“Anyways, I should be heading back to bed.” you tell him, walking towards the kitchen door.

“Me too,” he replies, letting out a sigh and throwing away his empty bottle, following you.

You both make your way up the stairs heading to your separate rooms.

“Goodnight, Logan.” you say with a sleepy smile.

“‘Night,” he replies, watching you enter your room before he enters his.

You return to your blankets to get some more rest, checking the clock on your nightstand before shutting your eyes: 1:02 a.m.

Turning in bed, you quickly sit up, awakened by the sound of someone screaming.

You run out of your room to see a crowd forming in front of Logan’s bedroom. You rush into the room only to find Rogue using her powers on Logan.

“Everyone back to your rooms!” you say, some kids doing as you asked while others continue to stay.

The others rush into the room after you. Ororo now stands by your side as Scott switches on the lights.

Rogue lets go of Logan as he falls to the ground. “It was an accident.” she says, quickly turning to you and walking away.

The morning after the events of last night leaves you drained. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you prepare to set up the classroom for a new lesson.

Students start coming into your class once the bell rings, sitting at their designated seats. The last of your students to walk through the door is Rogue.

You smile at her when she enters. Rogue quickly takes a seat at her desk as you begin your lesson.

As your students finish the last bit of their notes, the bell rings, indicating the end of class. They pack up quickly, saying goodbye as they leave your class.

“Rogue!” you call as she turns to you, stopping just before the door. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing?”

“I’m fine,” she answers timidly.

“I know what happened last night wasn’t your fault,” you pause, “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

She stares at you.

“Look, I know how it feels to be scared of your mutation,” you tell her.

“No, you don’t,” she replies, shaking her head.

“Trust me, I do,” you say, raising your hand between the two of you as you start forming a small ball of energy in your hand. “I wasn’t able to control my mutation before, and honestly, I’m scared that sometimes I still can’t,” you tell her as the ball of energy slowly disappears.

You continue, “But this place, this school, it helped me. It gave me opportunities I thought I could never have in this cruel world.”

“Which is why I don’t want you to think you’re less than anyone here. You have the same opportunities as everyone else at this school. You deserve to thrive,” you tell her with a smile.

“Thank you.” she says, returning the smile.

“Of course, Rogue-” you say.

“Marie.” she corrects quickly.

“I’m always here if you need me, Marie.” you say to her. She smiles and walks out of your class as the bell rings for your next class.

As the school day finally finishes, you start to clean up the papers left on your desk.

“Y/n!” Ororo says, bursting into your classroom.

“Ororo? What is it?” you ask, confused.

“It’s Rogue. She ran away,” she tells you.

“What?! I just talked to her earlier,” you say.

“Charles found her at a train station. Logan’s already on his way there. Scott and I are going to follow. You should come,” she tells you.

“Alright. But my mutation—”

“You’re going to be fine,” she reassures you. You nod at her as you both walk out of your class.

When you arrive at the station, you walk up to the front desk with Ororo while Scott look’s around.

“She’s about 17, um, my height, and has brown hair,” she tells the man at the ticket booth. You stand close behind her as she continues to speak, when you suddenly hear large footsteps approaching the both of you.

You turn around only to be met with Sabertooth.

“Ororo—” you say before you are grabbed into a chokehold and smashed against the glass.

“Scream for me,” he says.

Ororo, who was caught off guard, tries to use her powers but is suddenly knocked out by Sabertooth, who grabs her and throws her against the wall before dropping you to the floor.

Scott rushes toward you both, pushing people out of the way, only to be stopped when his visor is grabbed, making him shoot a hole in the roof of the station.

You hastily get up with a groan, your neck and head throbbing as you start to build up energy in your hands, stretching your arms and creating a blast of energy.

You fire it toward Sabertooth as he breaks through the wall, hitting the ground from the blast.

You run toward Ororo, who is slowly getting up from the ground. “Are you okay?!” you ask, helping her up.

“Yeah,” she responds, rubbing her head and taking your hand.

“Come on, let’s get Scott,” you say, holding her up while your eyes scan the area for Scott.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

a/n ── this still needs to be proof read! But omg was I struggling to write this chapter😭 I’ve been so busy the past month so forgive me for that😣 I haven’t set a schedule yet for this series but I’ll let u guys know! Also some of the @ are not working for the taglist so just message me if you want to be added!

🏷️: @cxptainbuck @thecraziestcrayon @marvelgirlie-4 @ravenslvt @malfoys-demigod @byhuenii @avatarobsessedgirly @kinokomoonshine

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #x men #energy #superpowers #im struggling #wolverine fanfiction #marvel comics #marvel universe #marvel mcu #hugh jackman

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doki-doki-imagines · 2 years ago

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Power of a hug feat mk1 Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kenshi Takahashi author note:as my fave memer said "the wettest and most humid kiss is nothing in comparison to the power of an hug". There are other characters that I have in mind with this prompt so I hope the post will go well lol.

tw: Kenshi part is suggestive.

You are used to being alone, you have been for most of your years, and you are sure Johnny would never describe you as clingy. You give him his space, he gives you yours, nice and comfortable. That’s why when he told you about this expedition that was going to take him a long time and far away, you didn’t budge, just kissed him goodbye and told him to come back in one piece.

Okay, the departure wasn’t so blunt, and maybe there weren’t just kisses and maybe you were sobbing while telling him to be safe because you knew that Johnny wasn’t going out for a movie, but this is the gist of it.

And now you are sitting on Johnny’s armchair, wearing his favorite cover, the one dripping off his perfume, reading, trying to get your mind elsewhere while your heart silently shouts in pain, while your brain screams at it to shut up, because you are strong and even if you haven’t heard him for 2 months you shouldn’t miss him so much, because you are independent and yadda yadda; you miss him so much you’d curl up in a hole and get moldy there.

You sit there, ‘till you recognize a familiar sound, “is that Liu Kang voice?” you think, already standing up. There are other voices outside the house, but soon they all fade when you hear one in particular.

It’s Johnny’s one.

You’d like to stay in, wait for him inside nonchalantly walking towards him to greet your boyfriend as elegantly as you can muster.

Outside is snowing and you are wearing shorts (made of wool, but still shorts) and slippers but your mind simply doesn’t work, heart beating freely, pumping blood with new vigor.

“Johnny!” You open the door, freezing air hitting your body with full force, but you feel nothing.

Your legs run toward your boyfriend before your mind perceives your action. He turns around at your voice, and he is so beautiful your legs almost give up…almost.

“Oh-“ You jump in his arms, knocking him a few steps behind, not noticing all the gifts he had to throw on the ground to take you. You sigh in his arms, his strong arms now enveloping your shivering body “Kitty, are you shivering because you missed me?” He jokingly says,

“Yeah, it’s because I missed you so much.” Your voice breaks, your arms around his neck, legs gripping his waist as tightly as you can.

His hands slid on your thighs, thumbs drawing hearts on your skin, no goose-bumps, he is so warm and you are so full of love that you can’t feel anything else anymore.

Your foreheads kiss, breaths mingling, smiles stuck on both of your faces, warm brown eyes locked into yours.

His friends are long gone, leaving the two lovebirds alone.

He had to leave you there, in a snowstorm in the hands of the enemies, alone. You always have a plan, they always work out that’s why he trusts you so much even if you are a total dumbass.

“Go Bi-Han, don’t worry for me.” Your voice was trembling, you knew that you couldn’t survive and you also knew that he needed to return home alive.

And he follows your order because you are always right and things always go your way. Even when you are against him. Even when you tease him making his ears flush red. You always come up victorius.

Bi-Han stops on his track, snow falling on his shoulders. He can’t breathe. He hates you.

He’d like to sit there and let snow bury him. He can’t, he is Lin Kuei grandmaster whose willpower never waver, and who is headstrong like nobody else. Bi-Han has seen dear ones die in front of his eyes, betray him, this time mustn’t be any different.

Bi-Han feels like crying. You aren’t a fighter, but he wanted to bring you with him because nobody could outsmart you, and your brain was needed for this mission.

What an idiot. He tightens his fists, eyes closed so tight that wrinkles appear at the corners, no punishment would be enough for his mistake, never enough whips, never enough slaps.

He stays there a few more minutes, he couldn’t go back home, not ‘till he won’t be sure tears wouldn’t spill from his eyes.

Then he hears a voice, more like a whine, but it’s something he has heard many times before. Bi-Han starts to run towards the voice, walking much harder with so much snow.

“Told you-“ You are there, sitting on the snow, trembling like a newborn kitty, eyes shining, and with that shit-eating grin of yours “my plans never fail!” He crouches down towards you, he must be going crazy, his index and middle fingers pinch your cheek.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” You are there, real, talking to him like you didn’t say goodbye to him a few minutes prior. He sits next to you, onyx eyes wide.

“You are alive” He is able to say, voice hoarse as always, mask reducing the sound to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I would have never let anyone take my life, they have to get in line you know? Since you were the first one to promise me you were going to-“

Bi-Han doesn’t let you finish the phrase, his arms hugging your torso so close and so strongly against his body that he knocks air out of your lungs.

“I was so worried.” His right hand grips the back of your head, holding it in the nook of his neck. His voice trembles and he feels you stilling in his arms. He can feel your warm breath on his neck, your chest rising up and down at each breath you take; you are alive.

He almost lost you.

You free your head from his grip, thin ice on your hair like a veil made by his unrestrained magic, your hands now slowly removing his mask, showing you his trembling lips, you look at his eyes, he knows they are watery, his vision is foggy. Then your delicate fingers grip the collar of his uniform, your lips pressing for the first time against his.

It is a short moment, Bi-Han closes his eyes, and when he opens them your lips aren’t there anymore, but he still feels something warm; your arms reciprocating the hug.

It is suffocating but at the same time makes him feel alive, a warmth that envelops him entirely, that makes his heart run like a wild horse, but that puts his mind at ease; he is safe, you are too in his arms.

He couldn’t ask for more.

“K-Kenshi-“ You gasp, your hips grinding onto his, his tattoed hands running from your chest to your tummy, never resting, never letting you go.

He missed you. Kenshi missed you terribly. It wasn’t just sex, as good as it is, he missed your voice, your hands in his ones, your gentle lips on his cheeks. He missed hearing you talking about your day, about that terrible co-worker. He missed hearing your laughter and your hands massaging his scalp when he felt particularly stressed.

A moan dies in his throat after a delicious roll of your hips. Yeah, he missed this too.

You are close he can feel it and he is not far behind, but there is still something he desperately needs to do.

He lifts up, sitting now, his arms around your waist, hands on your lower back, both guiding your movements and keeping you close to his chest.

“I missed you so much-“ A whimper leaves his mouth, he can feel your lips so close to his, your breath labored, your body so close creates a delicious friction that just makes his mind fog even more.

“Me too, me too-“ You hug him back, your arms tight against his back, nails scratching his back while he helps you both reach completion.

You keep each other close, breaths still heavy, bodies sweaty.

“I missed you so much.” You are the first one to break the silence, Kenshi notices a hint of sadness.

Hint that became something more when the hand caressing your cheek meets a tear. The pang he feels in his heart hurts so much, but he also knows it is deserved.

“Me too honey, me too.” His right hand massages the back of your head, while the other traces heart-shaped patterns on your back.

Kenshi doesn’t let go, now laying on your shared bed, you on top of him. He can’t see your face, but losing sight made him more sensible, noticing every gasp leaving your lips, every twitch of your muscles.

He restrains himself, he can’t cry, but every gasp that leaves your lips is like a stab in his chest, each tear pulling your body closer, your hearts beating in synchronized sorrow.

But Kenshi can’t tell you that next time it will be different. He can’t reassure you that he will be safe.

He keeps you close to his chest ‘till he feels your breath slowing down, now stable. Kenshi keeps caressing your back, feeling his muscles relax, exhaustion washing over him too.

Kenshi soon falls asleep, wishing to still have you in his arms when he’ll regain consciousness the next morning.

#mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #johnny cage x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #johnny cage #bi han #kenshi takahashi #mortal kombat imagine #mk1 imagine #mortal kombat x you #mk1 x you

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missbellie · 5 months ago

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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I'm Better Than Him- Kang No-eul

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pair: F!Reader × No-eul

warning: alcohol

synopsis: You had a boyfriend who was a complete jerk, and a best friend who was completely gay for you. When No-eul found out about the breakup, she made sure you completely forgot about the guy, and consoled you in every way.

words: 12k

BTH pl

"He cheated on me." You said, halfway through the movie. No-eul's arm was around your shoulders, keeping you close as your head rested on her shoulder. She started and looked at you and quickly paused the movie. "What?!" She spoke, her voice slightly raised. "He cheated on me...Yesterday" You speak, feeling the tears come back to your face as you talk about the subject. Your throat has become blocked, as if a rope is tying your vocal cords, preventing words expressing your pain from being spoken. You could see the anger in No-eul's eyes, but instead of exploding or screaming, she simply pulled you close to her, wrapping you in her arms. You didn't hesitate to hug the girl back, feeling more tears escape without your permission.

The girl pulled you closer, to the point where it was -almost- possible to hear the girl's heartbeat, if it weren't for the sobs coming out of you. No-eul felt her blood boil more and more with every second, with every sob. The caress the girl gave her hair became automatic, because all she thought about was the son of a bitch who did such a thing and broke her girl's heart. Her. Girl. You're not sure how long you've been crying, but you know that when you open your eyes, your body is on top of No-eul's, and she's stroking your hair while she's on her phone. When she saw your head lift slightly she put her phone aside and smiled. "Good night..." You sighed, sitting down on the couch, rubbing your eyes. "How long have I been asleep?" You asked, looking around your living room with a confused look, realizing that the sun had long since disappeared.

"Well...Two hours. Are you better?" You sigh, running your hands over your face. No-eul bit her lips, not really knowing what to say, and settled herself on the couch, running her hands over your back, giving you a pleasant caress."It's okay... You at least found out before it got any worse, Mimi..." You nodded, letting yourself be carried away by the soft voice that No-eul had at that moment. "How about that: Tomorrow we go out just the two of us. Like we used to do before!" You frowned, not really wanting to leave the house, just wanting to drown in the pain and see you feeling the walls of your house getting smaller and smaller. "I won't take no for an answer. I'll come pick you up tomorrow at 8." No-eul says, standing up. You watch the girl stand up and frown. "Where are you going?"

You ask, confused, the pleading look on your face completely softened the girl. "Ahm...Home." She says, adjusting the coat in her hands. When she sees the feeling in your eyes, she throws her coat onto the couch and puts her hands on her hips, sighing and giving a small smile. "Go." She says, nodding to the room behind her. You smile and gets up, going to the bedroom. No-eul sighs and when she hears the door close she sits on the sofa, resting her elbows on her knees and resting her head between her hands. What would she do to you? Her feelings? how much longer will she have to hold out? How could he do this to you? You are the sweetest girl she has ever met, how could anyone break her loyalty and heart so brutally?

You were in a totally vulnerable moment, but she just wants to prove to you how much better she is: Prove that she can make your heart almost jump out of your chest more times than he did. Prove that she kisses better than him. Prove that she would treat you better than him. Prove that she would touch you better than him, that she would know you better than him. Prove that she is better than him. "No-eul...? Your coming?" Your sweet voice interrupted her thoughts, making her wake up from her moment. She quickly got up, leaving her coat on the couch and walked quickly to her room, closing the door. "You're picky...I was drinking water, I was thirsty." Sleepily, you nodded and turned over in bed, watching her lie down on the other side. Your faces were facing each other, foreheads almost touching and you could feel her breath on your nose.

No-eul felt nervous for the approached, feeling butterflies in her stomach, but she didn't let it show. You, on the other hand, just felt strangely comfortable, but didn't move away. “Are you better?” No-eul asks once more, her voice coming out just above a whisper. You let out a short laugh and straighten up, making your eyes level with each other. "This is the second time you've asked that..." The smile on your lips was one of gratitude and sweetness for her gestures. No-eul smiled and shrugged, "Just making sure. And I'll ask again: Are you okay?" You rolled your eyes and hugged the girl's torso, resting your head on her chest. No matter how many times you had slept together, No-eul always felt butterflies in her stomach when you hugged her like that in bed, resting your head on her chest.

"Of course I'm fine, I'm with you..." You murmured, receiving a pat on the back in response. "...Thank you for everything, No-eul. Seriously. I love you, you're the best friend I could ever have." You continued, touching the girl's raw wound. "Best friend." Oh, how she wished she wasn't simply "best friend." But no. She wasn't going to make a big deal out of it now, after all, you needed her, not her problems. "I love you too, Mimi..." The older one murmured, who had previously been looking at you and now had her eyes on the wall, continuing to caress your back.

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No-eul left your house before you even woke up, leaving you without the warmth of her body. You found it strange that the girl was not there when you woke up, but as soon as you saw a note next to you, saying: "Hi Mimi, i went out to take care of some business. I'll still come here to pick you up at 8pm. The incredible No-eul, xoxo." You let out a small laugh, sitting up in bed, stretching and ready to start your day.

You took advantage of your good mood to tidy up the house, have a proper lunch and leave the house to do some shopping for the house.When you got home, it was already 4:30. You sighed, feeling somewhat free. Silence. Peace. Simple things that you weren't used to yet, but that wasn't something to think about right now. You packed your groceries while listening to music, stopping to sing or dance in the middle of tidying up, taking longer than expected to do a simple task.

You went to take a shower quickly, since it was already 6pm. You washed your hair again, exfoliated and waxed your body and washed it, feeling the scent of your shower gel waft through the bathroom. The bath helped you relax, and the thought of going out with No-eul at night like old times made you excited. You always had a lot of fun even though you were very different from each other. No-eul was quieter and more reserved, she did things quietly, discreetly and not very noisy. Obviously that changed when you came into her life: You were the loudest, most social, most outgoing one. You liked to get along with everyone, but especially with No-eul. When you met the girl, it was as if your heart gave you a silent mission: Bring out the other side of her.

It was difficult at first for her to get used to your personality, but she soon got used to it, laughing at your stupid jokes, going along with your adventures - and sometimes even suggesting one. One thing was certain: You fit together. You felt that No-eul was your soulmate, someone who read you like someone would read a children's book - but more mature and complex - and you read No-eul by her gestures, voice intonation, words chosen to be said, posture and especially the eyes. A mirror of her locked, protected personality that only you had access to. A tune interrupts your thoughts. No-eul called you for the third time. You answered, putting it on speakerphone.

Call on:

You: Heyy girl, almost ready!

No-eul 🩷: Liar. I bet you're still wearing a towel.

You let out a laugh, pulling on your underwear and applying some body lotion.

You: No, I'm putting on my underwear. Don't you have the key?

No-eul 🩷: I have. Can I come in?

You: Yes.

Call off.

You heard the door open and close, and continued to get dressed. As you put on your dress, you opened the bedroom door, walking down the hallway and feeling the cool floor against your warm feet. Your eyes met No-eul's and the girl froze: You're wearing a strapless, asymmetrical dress in a deep purple shade with a shimmering effect. The fabric appears soft and drapes elegantly, creating a ruched effect on the bodice. The dress features a high-low hemline with a sheer overlay, adding a delicate and flowing touch. The subtle sparkle throughout the fabric enhances its glamorous appeal. "What? Do I look bad?" You ask, looking down at the dress on your body. No-eul shook her head and looked you up and down again.

"No. You look amazing." She said, crossing her arms and sighing. "Go finish getting ready. You're still barefoot." She said and it was as if a light bulb of memories turned on in your head and you ran to the room. No-eul followed you, running her eyes over your body, and took a deep breath to control herself. As you sat at your dressing table, Putting on her shoes, No-eul sat on the edge of her bed, one hand behind her supporting her body weight, and the other on her cell phone, fiddling with it. In the room, low but audible music played and you hummed the song while putting on your makeup.

Clairo's song "Sofia" starts playing, and she recognized the song, and her eyes immediately fell on your concentrated figure looking at the mirror in concentration.Seeing and hearing you humming the entire song, every line and every word made No-eul question herself: Did you know the meaning of the song? Did you notice the words said by the singer? Before you could notice No-eul staring at you, the girl goes back to looking at her phone, scrolling through social media.You get up after putting on your perfume, expecting to have the other's girl attention. No-eul looks up at you and then at the time. “Half an hour. Not bad.” You roll your eyes, slapping the girl on the back of the head. "Idiot...".

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you entered the club. You hadn't been to a club in two years. In your head, you had lost the knack of enjoying a party. "Are you okay?" No-eul asks close to your ear, placing her hand on your back.You nodded quickly, taking the girl's hand and guiding her to the bar. "I just need a drink." You say, and even though No-eul didn't hear very well, she read your lips, managing to understand what you meant. No-eul knew the person in front of her. You were weak from alcohol: Three shots and you had red cheeks, a hoarse voice and a relaxed smile on your lips. No-eul, besides being more resilient, was also not at her best. She had already gone to dance with you, gone back to the bar, drank more and now she was trying to dance with you who was moving her body to the rhythm of the music and laughing at No-eul's clumsy steps, but nodding slowly as the girl began to get the hang of it.

When the music ends you wave your hands in front of your face, panting. "It's hot in here..." You gasp, placing your hands on your hips. "It's me, honey." No-eul says, walking to the bar followed by you. You laugh at the girl's joke and nod. "Yeah, yeah." You roll your eyes, sitting down on the bar stool. You each order another shot, and while you wait you talk about old stories, letting out hysterical but fun laughs. That's when suddenly No-eul, laughing, looks over your shoulder and her smile disappears in seconds. You frown, and when your head was halfway to following No-eul's gaze, the girl grabs your chin and turns your head towards her quickly. "Let's dance. The music is really good." She speaks and doesn't give you time to respond, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the dance floor. The girl places her hands on your waist, guiding you to the rhythm of the music, and you frown but accept, following the girl's movements.

"No-eul, what's going on? Your eyes won't leave that spot! What's go-" A kiss. The girl presses her lips against yours in a kiss. Whether it was the alcohol or not, you don't know. All you know is that when you feel the girl's hands on your waist pulling you closer, you place your hands on either side of the girl's neck, giving in to the kiss. Suddenly, No-eul breaks the kiss, panting heavily and a scared look in her eyes. "I'm-I'm sorry, I-" This time, it was you who interrupted, breaking the distance between you, pressing your lips together once more. No-eul, even though she was surprised, didn't hesitate to reciprocate, placing her hands on her waist once more, but this time her hand went up and down, squeezing the places it passed. Your hand was on the back of No-eul's neck, entwining the girl's hair with his fingers, making the girl sigh into the kiss. You broke the kiss, but this time to whisper something in the girl's ear who was panting. "Can we go home?" There was no need to ask twice. The girl nods, taking your waist and guiding you to the door, with a victorious smile as she realizes that she has managed to keep your ex out of your sight, once and for all having your attention only for her.

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Hope you liked it babies

Xoxo!

#squid game #kang noeul #sapphic #sapphism #kang no eul #cute #guard 011 #BTH

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