#aNgSt✨

[s3ap0tat0]

*Coughs up even more Marble Sky fan—Art? Animation?*

I made an animatic to go with the drawing I made before of the future possible au thing 👁️👄👁️

HIGSEFIHGVSEIURGVIUGIUBIUPQSINK IX go check out

@somerandomdudelmao’s comic 🫵🗿✨

DEW IT

Tis very good

I got sucked into the fandom faster than I’dlike to admit :’)

[kalitheinksimp]

Day 13 of Inktober: Immortal

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst) chapter two┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. None of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I��I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb

@rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2 @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols

@icaqttt

[teapartyprincess4two]

Hi

Can i ask for a johnnie guilbert x reader where the reader is a friend of tara who is a very private person, so she gets know in the channel as "baby" and people start to notice that johnnie gets shy and is always looking somewhere off camera (to her)

A LOTTTT of pinning by johnnie (like so much it hurts)

And maybe at the end he confesses she kisses him and a lil sum-sum 😏

Thank uuuuu 😘

Babygirl- J. Guilbert

pairing: shy!reader x Johnnie

classification: fluff

warning: use of y/n, slight cursing, slow build up, Jake and Tara are dating in this, suggestive content but NO smut, very long

inspiration: request^^, Deaf, Mute, and Blind Baking, Becoming Tara Yummy for a Day

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

—

Most people wish they had the fame you had, they spend their entire life reaching for an unattainable dream that fell in your lap by coincidence. They wish for the fancy cars, the expensive clothes, and especially to be so famous they’re stopped by fans on the street for a picture.

Tara, your best friend, was one of those people. She spent her childhood and teenage years fangirling over pop stars and YouTubers, hoping that one day people would be fangirling over her too. She worked hard to earn the platform she has today, bringing you along with her to the top. But you never asked for any of this.

At first her newfound fame didn’t affect you, you were just a recurring background character in her videos and would sometimes, but very rarely, have a main role in them. Although you tried remaining in the background, the internet is quick to get attached to shy, background characters and before you knew it the fans were begging for more content with you.

So now you and Tara are a well known YouTube duo and you’re featured in almost every one of her videos, most of the time opting to participate from behind the camera. You especially remain behind the scenes when Jake and Johnnie are involved, specifically because you’re never able to hide your crush on Johnnie and would probably die from embarrassment if the fans caught on.

Like today for example, Jake and Johnnie are over at your house filming. They’re filming a video they’ve filmed many times before, they’re turning Tara emo. The three of them are piled onto the couch, discussing topic after topic as Johnnie packs on black eyeshadow on Tara’s eyes.

“Ow, Johnnie. You’re hurting me!” she squeals as Johnnie accidentally pokes her in the eye with the bristles of the brush. You can’t help but giggle from behind the camera, watching as Johnnie becomes flustered. “Sorry! I only ever do my own makeup, okay?” he apologizes, not becoming any more gentle with his motions. Johnnie glances at you quickly, a smile forming on his face because of your laughter.

“Why are you laughing, Y/n? You’re next,” Jake chimes in, following his statement with a boisterous laugh. Your face flushes slightly as you reply with a laugh, “no I’d prefer not to be tortured.” Johnnie laughs at this, sending you a fake pout, “you hate my look that much?”

Your face becomes even more red, if that was even possible. You didn’t mean the comment like that. Tara, whose face is being attacked with makeup, chimes in, “No, Y/n is too babygirl for this.”

“Oh God, you’re making me sound so high maintenance,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at Tara’s comment. “It’s true though!” she exclaims, turning to face you just as Johnnie begins applying eyeliner, causing a black streak to run from the corner of her eye to her hairline.

“Guys, Y/n is probably the most high maintenance out of the four of us. She gets a manicure exactly every two weeks, she gets her hair redyed like once a month, her room is NEVER dirty. She almost never ever has dirty laundry, AND she irons her clothes. Who irons their clothes?” Tara exclaims, flailing her arms in the air dramatically.

“So yes, she’s babygirl,” Tara’s talking to the camera now, completely oblivious to her appearance. You scrunch your name at the nickname, the internet tended to latch onto things like that, “First of all, you look ridiculous right now. And secondly, don’t call me that. I don’t need to be known as ‘babygirl’ for the rest of my life,” you reply, laughing as Johnnie tries to fix his mistake but fails.

Jake, who’s sitting on the couch next to Johnnie, straightens up and leans forward to look at Tara. He immediately laughs at the sight, the black eyeliner smudged all over her face. “You’re just mad that it has a nice ring to it,” Tara retorts, choosing to ignore the mess Johnnie made. You scoff, glad that the camera isn’t on you to catch how your eyes train on Johnnie.

“Okay, but doesn’t it sound cute?” Tara proposes the question to the boys, waiting expectantly for them to answer. Jake was always quick to agree with her, it was a trait she trained him to have over the years of their relationship, “yeah, it’s pretty cute.” Tara nods her head in triumph, turning to Johnnie for his response.

Johnnie doesn’t know what to say, he agrees that the nickname is cute, but he’s afraid he’ll say too much and expose his crush for you. “Johnnie?” Tara says, widening her eyes as she awaits his response.

“What was the nickname again?” Johnnie asks, trying to act casual. But if the cameras zoomed in they’d easily catch how his hands tremble as he fixes Tara’s eyeliner. “Babygirl?” he reiterates, attempting to sound confused and oblivious. Tara nods her head, causing Johnnie to mess up once again, but he’s too busy trying to keep his composure to care.

Coming from him the nickname doesn’t sound so bad, it actually makes you want to take back everything you just said. “Babygirl is cute,” he murmurs, sending you a small glance before quickly turning back towards Tara. You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and the smile that won’t go away no matter how hard you try.

“Enough with the babygirl talk,” you groan, but you really loved hearing him say it.

—

From that moment on, you were known as babygirl within the fandom. You couldn’t escape the nickname no matter how hard you tried, and the fans loved teasing you about it. Whether it be through edits, Instagram comments, or tweets; the fans were always calling you the nickname.

Johnnie, Jake and Tara are currently filming yet another video, despite your protests. The three of them are standing behind the kitchen counter, with either tape on their mouths, earmuffs on, or blindfolded. They were trying to bake a cake, something they struggled to do even without the inhibiting factors, so all they were really doing was making a big mess.

They understand your hesitance with being on camera, so they never force you to make any special appearances, but you still loved to watch. You sit behind the counter, just out of view of the camera, watching in amusement as the three interact.

Johnnie keeps getting distracted by you, fumbling and stuttering his way through the intro. You watch as Johnnie struggles to find the supplies needed for the video, searching through every cabinet in the kitchen. “Every time Johnnie says he’s ready, he’s never ready,” Jake comments, adjusting the black beanie on his head. “Where the fuck did I put it? No, Jake where did you put it?” Johnnie replies, scavenging for the baking supplies.

“They’re in the pantry,” you comment, walking over to Johnnie briefly and guiding him towards the pantry. Johnnie smiles at you, grateful that there’s at least one sane person here to help him. The interaction was caught on camera, but you were too distracted to realize.

“Thanks babygirl,” Tara exclaims, bopping her head to the music blasting through her headphones. You roll your eyes, helping Johnnie take everything out of the grocery bags and sprawling them out onto the counter. Once everything is in order, Johnnie’s mouth is quickly covered with a sticker, but he’s happy he isn’t blindfolded because he can keep sneaking glances at you.

The entire situation was chaotic, none of them had any clue how to communicate properly and they had less knowledge on how to bake a cake. Jake’s arms were stretched forward as he tried finding his way through the kitchen, Tara’s loud singing making it hard for them to concentrate on one task alone.

Tara, who wore the headphones, was more focused on singing than the cake. You watch them intently, unable to stop yourself from laughing, “you need to whisk the cake!” Tara, who can’t hear a single thing you’re saying, repeats your statement causing you to burst into laughter.

Johnnie pulls out a plastic butter knife, deeming it appropriate for the task. “Get the beater!” Tara yells, following it by belting out song lyrics. Johnnie has no idea what Tara is talking about, so he sends you a pleading look. If there’s anyone here who’s going to help him finish this cake, it’s you.

“The whisk, get the whisk!” you exclaim, trying to talk over Tara’s singing as best as possible.

“What’s going on?!” Jake asks, one of his flailing arms slapping both Johnnie and Tara. Johnnie’s laughs are muffled by the sticker as he holds the whisk out for Jake, guiding him to the bowl.

“Babygirl?!” Tara is being so loud, her voice a good three octaves higher than normal. “Stop yelling!” you exclaim, but she ignores you and changes the song, continuing to belt out the lyrics.

“Y/n, we need your help,” Jake comments, stirring the bowl so aggressively that it was twirling. “We have no idea what we’re doing,” he continues, lifting the whisk up and blindly taking a lick.

“JAKE DON’T LICK IT!” Tara yells.

Johnnie’s laughter and shocked scream are muffled, his face scrunched up as he laughs uncontrollably, and you can’t look away. You wish you weren’t so shy, so that way you’d be able to join them in this fun activity without feeling anxious.

“This cake is going to be so bad,” you chuckle, catching Johnnie’s attention. His eyes linger on you for a little too long, a moment the fans were definitely going to clip and edit.

“What did you say?! Did you say my singing is bad?!” Tara is still yelling, following each and every statement with loud singing.

Many dirty dishes and a messy kitchen later, the cake is finally done. The oven rings throughout the kitchen, and Jake and Tara send Johnnie to fish the hot pan out. The cake didn’t look too bad, but considering you watched them make it, you weren’t too excited to actually try it.

“You have to wait until it cools to frost it!” Tara exclaims, the headphones causing her volume to be more than pleasant. Johnnie can’t respond because of the sticker, and he doesn’t want to wait for it to cool, so he continues haphazardly spreading the icing over the camera. Jake, on the other hand, is in his own world.

“That actually looks disgusting. It’s raw,” you gasp, watching as Johnnie lifts the spatula to reveal an uncooked, watery mess. “It’s undercooked!” Tara yells, her inability to hear you causing her to repeat everything you say in different words.

Johnnie’s muffled laughter is infectious, earning a string of laughter from you. “Let’s just eat it,” Jake suggests, facing the complete opposite direction of the group. The beanie on his head inhibits him from seeing the state of the cake, but even if he could see it, he would probably still ask for a bite.

“Wait let me help,” you get up from your seat and walk behind the countertop, immediately searching for something to serve the cake in. “This is gonna have to do it,” you hand Johnnie three plastic cups. He scoops up the raw batter, the liquid cake jiggling in the cup and running down the sides, immediately coating his fingers in frosting and batter.

“We’re gonna get salmonella,” Tara is staring at the goopy mess in shock, how had they managed to mess up such a simple recipe?

“I wanna see… I think we should take this off,” Jake yanks his beanie off, a fit of laughter attacking him as soon as he sees the state of the cake. Tara was subconsciously poking at it, creating a big hole in the center. Johnnie’s hands were full of chocolate frosting, and he held them up in exasperation as he waited for someone to remove the sticker from his mouth.

“Here lemme help you,” you murmur, gentle hands removing the sticker. Your touch lingers a little too long, but he doesn’t complain. If he had it his way, you’d have your arms around his neck and his lips would be on yours.

“Thanks, babygirl,” he whispers in return, loving how easily the nickname riled you up. You hated how much you loved hearing him say it.

“This is actually not that bad!” Tara’s boisterous voice breaks you two from the intimate moment, forcing you to reenter reality. “Try it,” Jake suggests, going back for a second scoop.

Johnnie is hesitant, but he grabs the cup and puts a spoonful of the raw cake batter in his mouth. His face contorts in disgust, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Here let me try,” you take the cup from him, using his spoon to take your own bite.

As soon as the cake hits your tongue, you’re gagging. “Oh wow this is horrible,” you say, fighting the urge to throw up. They’re all laughing at your reaction, Jake pulling a long hair from his mouth in the process. “I love this hair, adds flavor.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna throw up,” the hair Jake held between his fingers was only making the situation worse for you.

“See, she’s so babygirl,” Tara laughs, joking about the situation even if she found it equally as gross.

—

It seemed like your friends were always filming because every time the four of you hung out there always seemed to be a camera lurking not too far. Like today for example, Tara gathered everyone for a casual hangout, but once you arrived she explained that everyone was going to be living like her for the day. At first, you declined her invitation, making a lame excuse about not feeling good. But she begged and begged for you to be in the video, and before you knew it you were an integral part of it.

“Okay, since you guys are becoming me for the day, it’s only fitting that you dress the part. So, put on these track suits,” Tara says as she hands you, Jake, and Johnnie each a pink track suit. You’re trying to hide from the camera as much as possible, but Tara keeps pulling you back in every time you almost wander away.

The three of you shimmy into the outfits, immediately feeling the Tara Yummy essence wash over you.

“This is sexy,” Jake comments, admiring his figure as the sweatpants hang loosely from his hips. “I’m serving cunt,” Johnnie says, joining Jake in admiring himself. Their tattoos peeked through, contrasting the pink outfits entirely.

You emerge from the hallway seconds later, the track suit providing you with a newfound confidence, “I feel so stupid, but I also kinda feel like that bitch.” You stand still, allowing the camera to pan to you before hitting a dramatic pose. You turn around to show the camera the backside of the suit, the word babygirl written in curly white letters across your ass. “Slay, babygirl, slay,” Tara chimes in, strutting over to you and hitting the same pose.

“Let’s please not start with the babygirl jokes,” you groan jokingly, adjusting the sweatpants that kept riding up, you were starting to get a wedge. But you knew you weren’t going to escape the babygirl comments today, especially not with it written across your backside. It was like a label that you were forced to wear for the rest of the day, and the fans would surely seize the opportunity and run with it. To top it all off, the four of you were so well color coordinated that you looked like a 90’s girl group, ready to perform on stage at any moment.

“This is fun, but I still don’t understand why I’m being forced to do this,” you say, staring at Tara blankly.

“Because you’re my best friend,” she replies cheerily, offering you a big smile and booping your nose. It was hard to stay mad at her. She walks away, joining Jake as they engage in conversation.

“And you’re babygirl,” Johnnie teases, coming up from behind you unexpectedly, immediately causing a blush to form on your face. He loved watching you get flustered over the nickname. He laughs at your reactions, relishing every bit of it.

“Alright, first things first, time to eat. Mama’s hungry,” Tara says, ignoring yours and Johnnie’s interaction before facing the camera and leading everyone to the car. Jake and Tara are far ahead, leaving you and Johnnie to trail behind.

“It’s gonna be leaves,” Johnnie whispers to you, earning a laugh in response. He loved making you laugh. “Yeah, how much you wanna bet we end up at Health Nut?” you ask, settling the bet with a firm handshake between you and Johnnie. His hand holds a firm grip on yours, almost like he’s hesitant to let go as he says goofily, “$2, take it or leave it.”

As predicted, the four of you end up at Tara’s favorite restaurant; Health Nut. It’s no one else’s restaurant of choice, but you’re living as Tara for the day so it doesn’t matter what the rest of you want. You’ve been here with Tara enough to be familiar with the menu, so you order a simple salad and drink before moving to the side and allowing Johnnie to order. Once he’s finished ordering, he pays for your meals before letting Jake and Tara order.

Johnnie is playing it up for the cameras, trying to embarrass himself with his actions before the pink track suit does it for him. He’s sitting on a toddler chair and you stand next to him, choosing him as your comfort zone.

Because you always opted to remain behind the scenes, most of the viewers weren’t completely aware of yours and Johnnie’s dynamic. You two were always clinging to each other in uncomfortable or unfamiliar situations, making quiet jokes to make the other laugh. You both also had a huge crush on each other, which further served as a gravitational pull.

“Order for… babygirl?” the employee calls out, a hint of confusion in their voice as they read the name on the order. This immediately causes you to laugh out loud. “You did not do that,” you whisper shout at Johnnie, who held his hands up in feigned defense as he tries not to burst into laughter. You awkwardly grab the food, both of youwalking over to Tara and Jake’s table.

“Did they just call you babygirl?” Tara asks as soon as you’re sitting down. “Yes dude, fucking Johnnie told them that was my name,” you laugh, hiding your red face in your hands. They call out Tara’s name and she dismisses herself briefly to pick up the food.

“Let’s go!” She exclaims from the restaurant’s front door, bag and drink in hand as she pushes the door open and walks outside. “Oh, I guess Tara Yummy eats in the car,” Jake says sarcastically, the three of you following Tara to the car.

Once you’re in the car, you and Johnnie sit in the backseat while Jake and Tara occupy the front. “I wanted to eat in there, but you guys are so embarrassing,” Tara says, handing Jake his food.

She doesn’t give any of you enough time to respond, “you guys are already pretty embarrassing, but the pink track suits make us all look genuinely crazy.” She’s obnoxiously shaking her salad from the front seat, causing the entire car to rock.

“Damn, don’t gotta put your whole pussy into it,” Jake laughs, earning a sly remark from Tara. Soon, they’re lost in a conversation of their own, leaving you and Johnnie to talk quietly in the back seat.

“Why do you keep pushing this ‘babygirl agenda,’ sir?” You ask, both in true curiosity and to make light of the nickname. He blushes, mindlessly picking at the salad in front of him.

“Oh come on, don’t get all shy now,” you tease, piling up a good bite on your fork. He smiles at you awkwardly, preparing to admit something embarrassing.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” he admits with a shrug, taking a big bite of his food. Your eyes blow open in shock, this whole time you thought he was teasing you, but now it turns out he thinks it’s a cute nickname? “Don’t make fun of me,” Johnnie pleads in defense through a mouthful of food.

“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting that,” you respond, trying not to be too loud. You couldn’t help it though, your giggles were soon filling the backseat. There was something about the confession that gave you hope that maybe you and Johnnie could be more than just friends. But you don’t want to get your hopes up, ir could easily all be for the video. You’re about to say something crazy and bold, but you’re cut off by Tara.

“Are you two done flirting? Cause I’m in the mood for coffee.” Leave it to her to ruin a sweet moment.

—

The day is finally over and the four of you are now wearing pajamas, reminiscing on the day’s events. Tara and Jake leave once the video is over, leaving you and Johnnie to lay on the large couch. The room is silent, but it’s not awkward, you’re both just catching up and joking.

“I was serious earlier, by the way,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling above. “Yeah?” you say in a teasing tone, rolling over on your side so you’re facing him.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah. If I’m being honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, I mean the fans definitely have.” You mindlessly play with the strings of your robe, subconsciously scooting closer to him.

“So that’s why you keep calling me babygirl?”

“Mmm yeah, mostly. I think it sounds cute,” he smiles down at you, your figure just slightly further down the couch. You feel a surge of confidence wash over you, something you don’t usually feel as a shy person, and straddle his lap.

He looks at you in shock, both arms limp at his sides. “Say it,” you whisper, moving your face dangerously closer to his. You use your hands to grab his, placing them on your waist. He feels excited, nervous, and shocked all at the same time, was this really happening?

You grind your hips down onto him, hoping to elicit a response from him. “Babygirl,” he whimpers, the sudden friction sending a shiver up his spine that has his hips bucking. You hum in response, finally inching close enough to connect your lips to his.

You’re in a heated make out session, completely obvious to the world around you. Johnnie’s hands are roaming your body, your hips are grinding down onto him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair. You kiss from his lips down to his neck, sucking and biting the delicious skin until you leave a hickey.

The situation is about to escalate, but Jake and Tara interrupt before it can. They saunter in loudly, both you and Johnnie jumping off of each other in shock.

“About damn time!” Jake says, applauding you both for finally make a move on each other. “Get it babygirl!” Tara laughs, joining Jake in his obnoxious round of applause.

“So annoying,” you groan, throwing a pillow at them and shooing them out. Once they’re out of the room, you and Johnnie share a sheepish look.

“You’re never escaping that nickname,” he chuckles, silently pulling you back on top of him. “That’s okay. If you’re the one saying it, I don’t mind,” you murmur, kissing him again.

“Okay, babygirl.”

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Such a good request, I LUV being challenged with these specific requests!!! Hope I did it justice bby, I rewrote this like 5 times & had a different storyline each time. Also, I mentioned the famous hickey (💀💀) and I changed it from “baby” to “babygirl” because he mentioned that he’s “so babygirl” on Trisha’s podcast.

anyways, enjoy hunny bunches. Luv uuuuu

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

[un-dermask]

One at dusk

They have been through a lot. I just hope that at the end of @kyri45 's comic these two will be able to enjoy peaceful moments like this ..💜🧡

[eldrtchmn]

黑水 Black Water

[rafesbabygirlx]

You’re All I Have

Masterlist

JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: you are JJs best friend who’s not John B or Pope and he always comes to you when something happens.

A/N: loosely based of the scene of Luke and JJ in the show

Word count: 567

Warnings: parental abuse, gun, kissing, angst, fluff at the end of

JJ bursts through the door of your small shack, the wood rattling as he steps in. You’re just a mile down the road from him and it seems trouble had found him again. You’re sitting on the couch with a textbook in your lap, trying to make use of a rare day off, but the sudden commotion jerks your attention his way. You can’t see his face clearly; his head is down, and his whole frame is shaking. He paces, muttering something under his breath.

You set your book aside and jump up, reaching out. “JJ? What’s going on?” He swats your hands away, but you know he means no harm—just caught in the whirlwind of whatever just happened. You reach out again, dodging his attempts to push you back, and finally manage to hold his face in your hands. “Talk to me, J. Please.”

He raises his head, and your heart drops at the sight. His face is bloodied and bruised. “Damn it, again?” You pull him to the couch, guiding him down gently. Without another word, you rush to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. Back at his side, you open it up and start tending to his injuries, every movement practiced, almost automatic now.

“We were arguing—same as usual,” he mumbles, voice thick with frustration. “But this time, it was my fault. I threw the first punch, knowing he’d just take me down. It’s always my fault.”

“J, don’t say that,” you whisper, dabbing a cut on his cheek. “You don’t deserve this.” Your fingers gesture lightly over his bruised face, reminding him of his worth.

He begins to cry, the tears spilling over as he speaks through them. “When he went outside, I saw my chance. I shoved him down the stairs, hard, and when he fell, I… I held it to his head. I wanted to so bad, you have no idea.”

Your heart stops as you watch him reach into his back pocket, pulling out a gun. He grips it tightly, his other hand pressing against his forehead in anguish.

“I couldn’t do it. I should have—I should’ve killed him,” he chokes out. You’re frozen in shock but manage to reach out slowly, taking the gun from his hand and setting it firmly on the coffee table. Then you go back to work, focusing on him, the pain written on his face and in his voice.

“JJ, your life would be better without that man,” you say, refusing to even speak the man’s name. “But I know you. You did the right thing. Because no matter how much you hate him, you’d hate yourself even more if you did something like that. You are not a killer.”

You finish cleaning him up, cupping his cheeks in your hands. “You’re broken, sure. But you’re better than him, better than all this. You may not believe it, but I do. You���re kind, you’re selfless, and you’re the strongest person I know.”

He looks up, his eyes glassy. “You really think that?”

“I do.” His hands come up to cover yours as he leans in, and his lips meet yours softly, lingering. It’s not rushed or intense—just a tender, reassuring moment. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours, a small, hopeful smile on his face.

“Maybe I can believe in myself a little if you do.”

[eevenus]

Like You, Love You - {B.C.}

pairing: nonidol!roomie!bangchan x reader genre: fluff turned angst, mutual pining, jealousy jealousyyyyy summary: After moving to Seoul for a new job, you grow close with your ever so handsome roommate. Close enough to develop feelings. What happens when anxiety and insecurities get in the way of you both confessing? warnings: small mention of insecurities on both sides, shirtless chan (gasp), and some arguing toward the end (lemme if i forgot something) word count: 5.6k notes: this will probably end up being a lil mini series if you guys want a second part!! but yeah this is my first official fic here so aaaaa please let me know if you like it by liking and reposting theenk yew!! also Joon is a random guy i swear he's not Namjoon but you're so free to imagine him as Namjoon. theenkz, byeeee. dividers by @sister-lucifer

“And now this?” The silence following ripped all the air from your lungs, the sharp look in his eyes seemed to judge every part of you. 

When you first moved to Seoul, offered the opportunity to transfer from your small cubicle job to your current job as an assistant to a bank CEO, you would have never expected to have such an immature argument with your roommate. This was not what you envisioned for yourself when you had packed your entire small town life into a bunch of cheap cardboard boxes, and drove your beatdown car you’ve had with you since your teens into the city. Not at all, when you carried said boxes, a couple at a time, through the lobby of your new apartment as the rain poured down with such heavy winds you felt like one misstep would have you and your boxes flying down the sidewalk. Nothing like what you had pictured, when you finally got all your boxes upstairs and unlocked your door that greeted you with a wonderful oaky and cinnamon scent.

Finding an apartment right in the business district of the city was rather difficult, or rather expensive, to handle all on your own. What better way to manage it than to find a roommate? Luckily this particular apartment building offered a special kind of service, a questionnaire of sorts that pairs you with a roommate that would share similar interests, within the same age range, and the option to decide if you want someone of the same gender or not. When you had first filled it out you had figured you would be at work for most of the time during the week, and you wouldn’t interact much with your roommate besides hellos and goodbyes. So it didn’t really matter much to you who they were, if you would get along, but you completed the form anyways. A week later the apartment complex approved your lease agreement, met with you for a down payment, and paired you with a random roommate.  

That first day was quiet, save for the squeak of your rain soaked shoes against the laminate floors and your own grunts and groans as you carried your moving boxes in. No one had seemed to be home, but the warm, masculine scent that filled the open air was enough to comfort you. Reminding you much of the cozy warm nook you would sit in to watch the sun go down in your childhood home’s kitchen. Luckily, you didn't have to investigate which room would be yours as your roommate had kindly left you a note on the empty room’s door.

“Hey there, Roomie! I’ll be in the room just across the hall if you ever need anything. I work long nights and sleep during the day, so you might not see me often but it’ll be nice to have someone else around. I was starting to go crazy up here all alone. Hope we bump into each other soon!                                         - Chris” 

The handwriting was a bit sloppy, and a bit shaky on some letters, as if it were written on his way out and taped to this door in a hurry. Which would make sense then, as when you had first arrived the sun had already begun to set and by the information given in the note…your new roommate wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. But you had a name to note, and though you hadn’t met yet…Chris sounded kind enough. 

The days would carry on like this for a little while. Both of you tended to miss each other due to conflicting schedules. You had even begun to find that your five am alarm was useless when you were woken up just before it rang obnoxiously on your nightstand by the thumping footsteps of your roommate, and a secondary thud of his duffle bag, that he’d always leave by the front door, hitting the ground. It was like clockwork. 4:58 am would glow on your phone just as his keys roughly jiggle at the lock and with a little shove your door would creak a high-pitched cry as it opened. Chris had left you a few notes here and there, scribbled on sticky notes and scattered around, letting you know things about the apartment the longer you stayed. 

A sticky note on the fridge read that the light goes out once a week, he promises to fix it soon. A sticky note on the toilet had read that the tank is a bit too small as he had to replace it one night after a house party where his friend, Changbin, had run into it on a drunken stumble into the bathroom and consequently broke it. It had been loosely installed even when he moved in, so it was bound to happen. You have to flush twice at times. A sticky note on the front door that told you of how when the weather changes and gets too hot, too cold, too rainy, the door needs an extra little shove to open and close. The material the door is made out of flexes and the building is due to replace them. 

After a few weeks, you grew to anticipate his loud homecomings. Still yet to catch his face, you could hear him talk sometimes as he discarded his shoes and jewelry by the sofa. You had noticed a small ceramic plate that sat on the coffee table the first few days after the move in, it was always filled with several rings, a watch, and several pairs of earrings. He was tidy at the least, that you appreciated, but your curious mind was begging for you to find what he looked like. So some mornings you’d wake well before he came home, and listen on your bed for him to come home, but it always seemed those were the mornings he’d simply drop his shoes and duffle bag and walk straight to his room. You had only been able to catch his back the first few attempts, broad and covered by a black tee that hugged his shoulders nicely. 

It was a month before you met him properly, after you were given a Friday off for Chuseok celebrations. Allowing yourself to sleep in, you were greeted with the smells and sounds of cooking in the kitchen when you rustled awake. Your phone read it was just past noon, and the salty scents of whatever your roommate had been cooking pulled you out into the common

area like a siren’s song. Your hair was in all directions, an indication of a good night’s rest for once, and your pajama shirt and shorts hung haphazardly on your body. It had been years since you had a true home cooked meal, with all your time dedicated to work it was just easier to buy takeout or convenience store foods on the way home than cook. 

Only when you had reached the cold tile of the kitchen did you open your eyes, and there he was. His bare back to you, the muscles you hadn’t noticed before tensed and defined as he worked between the two pans on the stove. A pair of dark gray sweats barely clinging to his hips, just low enough to see the waistband of his boxers. You had only noticed your staring when he sniffled in an attempt to clear his nose, which had sounded a bit irritated and slightly clogged from the changes in the weather. A quick attempt to fix your clothes and pat down your hair in the time before he turned around to put a used dish in the sink within the island to your right was almost useless. Your clothes were a bit better, but your hair wouldn’t have gone down without a good brush through. 

“Smells good.” Was all you had managed to get out when he finally turned your way, a hand still trying to pat down your hair. Chan had paused halfway through putting the dish in the sink, the bowl almost slipping out of his hands when he saw you. Suddenly he had felt incredibly naked in front of you and haphazardly slipped the bowl into the sink so he could quickly cross his arms over his chest. The two of you had stared as the bowl rolled around in the metal sink for a few seconds before settling on its side. “Thanks-” He cleared his throat, leaning his weight into his left leg, “Thank you.” You noted then how the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks grew a dark pink color the longer you looked at him, and moved your gaze around his waist to the pans behind him. Taking a few steps closer, and one step to the side, you inspect what was in them. “You’re welcome.” You smile at him, slightly bumping sides as you close your eyes to breathe the scents once more. “What is it?” “Haemul-pajeon.” He mumbles, moving off to the side to leave you more room to inspect everything. You could feel his eyes on you as he scratched at a spot just above his elbow. “I only made enough for myself, I thought you were at work. Um, if you want…I can make you some too.” 

Your eyes hesitantly tear away from the delicious savory smelling pancake in the pan to meet his own, not able to help the smile that pulls at your lips as you finally get a good look at his face. Even now, you remember it feeling like such a win. As if you’d been running a marathon the last month and finally hit the bright white ribbon of victory. This face you’d been imagining and drawing up in your mind was nothing compared to that of the real thing. His dark eyes that opened themselves to you, his large nose and sharp jaw that seemed as if chiseled by the gods, and his lips that seemed so plump and soft that it had taken everything out of you to not touch them. Everything about him just seemed so warm and inviting, including his voice. With that lulling, relaxed Australian accent. 

“You don’t have to, but I would…really like that. It looks like it tastes as good as it smells.” 

He had been quick to pour you a cup of coffee after that, asking how you take it and making himself repeat it a few times to remember for the future, and assure you that you could go ahead and sit while he finishes up. Even telling you to pick something to watch before running back off to the stove, stealing glances with you every now and again as he hummed a random tune under his breath. Indecisive on what would suit both your interests, you had selected a random nature documentary. Everyone loves a good film about baby animals, right? 

It wasn’t long after that that Chris was back in the living room with a plate for each of you, some silverware, and the biggest smile on his face. As you accepted the plate a small breathy laugh escaped you, he had drawn a big smiley face with some sort of creamy brown sauce on top of the pancake (seemingly homemade). “If you told me a month ago I’d be living with a shirtless roommate who makes me food I would have smacked you.” You silently thanked him with a nod as you took your utensils from him, as you went to take a bite you noticed he even cut it into little squares for you. He coughed a bit as he sat beside you on the sofa, leaning forward to drink his coffee to calm it. 

“I should go…get dressed.” He mumbles, setting his cup down next to the plate that now sat on the coffee table in front of you both. Attempting to stand before he feels your soft hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Chris. This is your home too, you should feel comfortable. At least you have pants on.” Your hand moves from his arm as you go back to eating your food, which had made you sigh with every other bite. The warmth of it spreads through your body as if to encase you in the feeling of home. “Plus…your food will be cold by the time you get back.” Chris blinked for a moment as he studied your expression, aside from the little microexpressions you made while eating. “You remembered?” “What?” “My name. From the notes.” 

Trying to not speak again with a full mouth, you cover your lips with the back of your hand and swallow. “Of course, it meant a lot to me back then, that you took the time to show me around even if you couldn’t physically be here. It was nice, and you signed every note. So yeah…I remembered.” Chewing at the inside of his cheek, he wiggles just a bit in his seat as he reaches forward to grab his food. Dimpled smile shining as he stares at his plate. “I’m glad it helped. I know I would have wanted someone to have told me when I first moved in a year ago, so…I’m just- I’m happy it helped you get more comfortable here.” 

A mumbled thank you between bites was the last of the conversation that afternoon besides any small comments regarding the documentary you two were watching. It was nice to finally put a face to the name that had made you feel so at home, and so quickly. You had retired early that evening, after some more food and tv binging, to prepare for the long drive home the following day to visit family for the holiday. But you couldn’t help the feeling that you wish you would’ve stayed up just a little longer. 

The following months had you and Chris growing closer and closer everyday. Chris would stay awake a bit longer after he’d come home, enough to make a quick breakfast and eat with you before you leave. In return you’d stay up a little later as well when you’d finally get home to make and eat dinner with him before he was running off to his own job. It grew into a routine. During these times, you’d learn tidbits about each other.  A little more each day. 

You learned Chris adored music, and even worked with pretty well known singers to produce tracks for them at a local studio. In his spare time he writes his own lyrics and songs, shared with his friends who create with him at times. You also know that although he loves his decently slow life, he hopes his own tracks will make their own history one day, but how he worries about the risk of losing his connections to his family and friends. You shared how working around banks wasn’t exactly your dream but it paid well enough, and how you adored travelling. Choosing to live in South Korea was a move that not only you made but your family, as they share your travel bug, and how one big family trip to Seoul sold everyone on the move. A few days later you share how you would have rathered a creative job like his, and how you hope to one day pursue a passion job…if you could only find time to find what your passion is. 

“I like you.” He had said one morning, causing you to snort the orange juice you had just poured yourself. “What?” You asked, ignoring how he laughed at your mishap and walked across the kitchen to wipe your nose with a napkin. 

“I like you. Like- Okay-” Chris chuckles out, stumbling over his words when his brain moves quicker than his mouth, “I like how you balance things. How you’re able to work so hard and yet make time for your family…and me, I guess. That’s what I meant. I like how your brain works.” 

“Oh.” You simply sigh, clearing your throat of the slight pain it still had from the orange juice, “Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome! Keep letting me pick your brain like this, and I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast.” He beams, taking a quickly animated bite of the omelett he’d made that morning.

“Anything?” “Anything.” “You’ve got yourself a deal, Bahng.” “Glad to hear it. Now eat up and eat well, you’ve gotta leave soon.” A final warning as he checked the watch on his wrist, and one you had followed before waving and rushing out the door. 

Weeks pass, and months too, as you learn each other’s quirks and routines. You picked up on Chris’ hums and claps when he eats good food, and he picks up on how your nose scrunches when you laugh at his stupid jokes. The more time passed the more you realized how your heart would ache at the thought of having to leave breakfast, leave him, for work. How you were drawn to want to hug him before you left. You had done it once just to see what he’d do, and with no hesitation he accepted it. You’ve hugged him every time either of you leave now. The need to always be near him almost annoyed you, but how could that feeling last long when he would turn and smile that bright dimpled smile at you. With you following him around in his free time, Chris noticed that despite having weekends off you never seemed to go out. He asked one day, and you had told him that in your move to the big city you hadn’t made many friends. Chris was determined then to make you meet his rather large ‘group of rowdy kids’, as he called them. 

You’d grown into a different relationship with each of them. Most of your chats about music and art landed with Hyunjin, Han, and Chris. Silly niche social media jokes that were heavily repeated went with Felix, and Jeongin. Playful arguments went with Changbin, Minho and Seungmin. Though, they all would drag you and Chris out of the apartment for some late night food on the weekends, regardless of if you actually wanted to go or not. Changbin once actually pulled you by the arm, still in a big tee, pajama pants, and some humongous teddy bear slippers, to get you to go eat some three am convenience store food with him. It took Chris tossing you over his shoulder and locking the apartment door for you to go. Minho still picks on you for giving in so easy for Chris to this day.

In fact, it was Minho who first sniffed out your crush on your aussie roommate. The night of a regular group movie night, this time at Felix and Seungmin’s place, he had met you in the kitchen as you were refilling your glass with water. Trapping you between him and the counter, you had stared up at him in feigned annoyance. 

“What is it now, Minho?” “You are so obvious.” He stares blankly, a small smirk twitching the edge of his lips. “I’m sorry?” You questioned with knitted eyebrows, setting your glass on the counter. 

“You’re in love with Chris.” 

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. The design on your shirt creases from the movement. “I am not.” 

“So if I told him, and it really is just a rumor, then you have nothing to lose right?” Minho tilted his head as he spoke, studying you as he waited for a response. Knowing he was getting to you by the way your brows twitched. You could only assume it was Han that spirited these thoughts into Minho’s head when you noticed him staring at the two of you talking from the corner of your eye. 

Sure, you’d grown close to Chris over the last few months. Sure, you’d wondered what it would be like if you simply walked across the hall and slid into his bed…would it be warmer? Would he pull you in, just like he had when you hugged him? Would it feel as safe as you had imagined it to? The ache in your gut from just the idea of Minho telling Chris before you could was confirmation enough…you were falling for Chris. And falling hard. 

“Tell him soon. There’s no sense in just waiting around. Worst case is rejection.” “You say that like getting rejected is easy.” 

“You’ll live.” Minho mumbles before turning back around to sit back with everyone else, once sat he gives you one last look to encourage you to spill your feelings. 

That night you tried. Many times. But you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it in fear of ruining the mood, the holidays were just around the corner and if you had to spend the Christmas season alone in the apartment you’d go crazy. So you gave yourself the task for another day. 

But then November passed, and Christmas was just a few weeks away. And still you have yet to tell Chris. It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend or anything, Han was quick to correct that to Chris’s embarrassment during a drinking game a month prior, but you just couldn’t pull yourself to do it. What if you were simply mistaking his kindness and care for romance? You’d seen how well he took care of his friends, how similar it was to how he treated you. Aside from a few instances of hand holding and a lingering hug or two…nothing seemed different from his otherwise normal behavior. And it was driving you insane trying to piece together every little thing he did. 

So when Felix had joked one night about the only way he’d meet someone would be a speed dating event, due to his own busy schedule with modeling, you had an idea. Doing your research online to find the closest event that wouldn’t be too far of a walk, maybe you would even have someone to bring to the Christmas party Hyunjin was hosting at his place. Of course, Chris had thought it odd when you blew off the group with some awful excuse and in the most gorgeous dress he’d ever seen. Your hair and makeup had made you look like you walked right out of a movie. The jealousy that tore into his stomach had sat with him all night, and no amount of food or alcohol could make it go away. 

On the other side of town, you were also struggling. Guys who were either trying too hard, being a bit creepy, or simply not your type were all that seemed to fly by your table. Truthfully, there were only so many more times you could state your name and MBTI before it started to not even sound like real words. It wasn’t until your last date of the night slid into his seat that it felt like things were really looking up. A twinge of guilt hit you when his cologne hit your nose, so similar in musk to the one you were used to from Chris. But surprisingly this new guy, who eventually introduced himself as Joon, was so genuine compared to anyone you had talked to that night. Not to mention, he wasn’t awful looking. With tousled black hair, a bright smile, a beauty mark just above the right side of his smile, big brown doe eyes and just enough muscle to notice in the outlines of his clothes.

Suddenly, the solution of distracting yourself from your feelings for your roommate seemed like an incredible idea. 

In the following weeks you went on at least two dates a week, Joon was patient enough to understand you were a busy woman with a tight schedule and a want to not rush into anything too serious before the holidays. But of course, the distraction from your work life and unrequited feelings was more than enough for you. Joon was a gentleman after all. Greeting you at the door with flowers, opening doors for you, fixing the buckle on your heels when it unclasped on one of your night walks. You’d even begun to skip your late night dinners with Chris for movies and takeout with Joon, and headed out even earlier for work just to meet the same man for coffee the next day. His own early riser schedule lining up perfectly with yours. 

Come to find out, Joon is the son of a large conglomerate family that takes care of most of the commercial real estate throughout Seoul. Set to inherit the company even. Chris had found out when Jeongin had decided to look Joon up on the web, spewing facts about his rich, perfect family and shiny appearance. Felix had caught on, that night, to the way Chris tore at the edges of his shirt until it ripped a bit along the folded seams and more to how the eldest of the group retired early that night. 

It was driving Chris crazy. How did everything change so fast? He had been so cautious with his heart since you moved in, what with how nasty his breakup was a year or so ago. He would never feel that kind of heartache again. But you just…snuck up on him. With your shiny eyes that always looked at him as if he could do no wrong, your soft hand that fit so perfectly inside his own, your bright smile that was a thank you for the breakfast  he’d make you. A breakfast you haven’t eaten in two weeks. He wondered if his cooking skills declined somehow, no that couldn’t be it. Changbin had just praised the meal he had cooked for everyone a few days ago, and said it reminded him of his own mother’s cooking. 

Was it him? Did you not find him attractive? Should he have put even more effort into how he looked every day? Pajamas are such a lazy thing to wear, why did he have to wear them so often around you. Maybe if he’d gone shirtless more like you asked, to be “more comfortable” in his own home…he wouldn’t be in this predicament. It had to be him. Chris found he had a hard time looking himself in the mirror most days, maybe you had started to feel the same way. All these thoughts swam around in his mind and built pressure around his heart, his already horrid sleep schedule ruined further by the anxious thoughts that plagued him when left alone in the night. 

Until we reach the present. A Saturday night, he took the day off in hopes of stealing you for himself once you got home, when his ears were met with the squealing giggles of you behind the front door. Joon’s own deeper voice was heard not too far behind yours, a rumbling chuckle just echoing your own. Chris shouldn’t have, but he paused the movie he was watching and straightened his back to listen intently to what conversation would have you laughing as hard as you were. He couldn’t make out anything worthwhile besides a thank you and what seemed to be a goodnight. The jingle of your keys against the door as you turned the lock brought him back to reality. 

‘This is crazy. You’re crazy.’ He thought to himself, the heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes as if to wipe the thoughts away. The jealousy just seemed to squeeze on his heart more and more when you walked in and closed the door. Your sweet perfume swirling around him, and God, how much he realizes he missed you today. The scent of you, the warmth of your presence, the song of your voice. But it all seemed to rot in real time when he could hear you sigh against the door. “What did I do in my past life to deserve my current life playing out like a movie?” You mumbled to yourself with a smile as you leaned in to smell the flowers Joon had once again given you. This time they were lilies. The nice dress and shawl, both gifted by Joon, wrapped around you as if their whole purpose and creation was to hug your body. “Dunno.” Chris spits out shortly, turning off the television in front of him and grabbing the dishes he’d eaten out of from the top of the coffee table. His heavy steps the only indication of his irritation. 

You pause, setting your shoes down by the door and hanging up your shawl. Silky, soft and flowing, it swishes as you turn around to face him in the kitchen. “What’s up with you?” 

The dishes hit the sink bottom with a rough clinking sound, you’re surprised they weren’t broken as you stepped closer. His hands tightly grip the counters as he stares up at you through his brows. Not only were ears a dark red, but his cheeks and shoulders as well. Easily seen in the black tank top he was wearing, along with the basketball shorts in the same color. 

“What’s up with me? What’s up with you?” He states, straightening his posture to fold his arms across his chest. His jaw tensing before he continues to speak, “You miss a few group hangouts, fine. But bailing on our routine, our meals together? Y/N, I didn't peg you as someone to leave everyone behind just because you got a…boy toy.” 

“Leave everyone behind?” You start, slamming the flowers in your hand down onto the sofa before stepping closer to the island with curled fists, “Is it so wild for me to have something of my own to enjoy, Christopher?” 

“It’s not-” A huff finishes his sentence as a hand comes up to wipe down his eyes, “You had everything you needed! Here!” As his voice raises, your own anger bubbles up to his level. A defensive spark in you to protect what you’ve built for yourself, to protect your heart…from him, of all people. 

“What are you even talking about, Chris? This unspoken, oddly close friendship we have? Because if so, I got tired of chasing after you like some abandoned puppy. I wanted to have something of my own, that I helped foster and create. I love the guys, trust me, but is it so awful of me to want something that isn’t yours?” 

His hands pull through his hair as he makes his way around the island, they settle at his sides, “Why are you making this out to be my fault? How was I supposed to know how you felt when you never even spoke to me about it? Huh?” 

Chris steps closer to you, a few steps away now, with a rasp in his voice and darkened eyes, “I kept myself from moving further with you because I thought you wanted nothing like that from me, and now you’re gonna make me the bad guy for not reading your mind? While I was finally starting to really open up to you and let my guard down, and then you bailed for some speed dating dinner?”  

His hand juts out to the flowers that now lay on the sofa, “And now this?” The silence following ripped all the air from your lungs, the sharp look in his eyes seemed to judge every part of you. As if he was disappointed more than upset, that you’d let yourself be wooed by this stranger and not accept the possibility that all of the love you wanted was right in front of you. 

“Now I have to watch you almost every night and every morning, leave me for him. To watch you smile because of him. To watch you laugh because of him. To hear you go on and on about him. When all this time all you had to do…was ask. It took one conversation.” He continues with gritted teeth before sighing and rubbing his hands down his face once more. “Chris-” “Save it. I’ve said all I needed to say, and I’ve heard everything I need from you. Enjoy the rest of your night.” As he spoke, he walks around you to gather his things. Slipping on a few rings, grabbing his apartment keys, pulling on a jacket hung by the door and some sneakers. “Where are you going?” You ask, though it was quiet enough that it had come out closer to a sigh. Arms wrapped around yourself as your legs screamed to move toward him, to hug him, to confess, to apologize, to go back in time even. 

“Somewhere that isn’t here.” He states shortly, his hand on the door handle. Even in his crazed mind, he knew that if he stayed the resentment and pain would just fester. And that would hurt worse than the heartbreak that he’ll go through when he walks out that door. 

“When will you be back?” “Don’t wait up.” 

And with that the door creaks open and slams shut behind him. Leaving you to wonder when he’ll be back…and what life will be like now. It’ll never simply be the gentle mornings, and rushed evenings. And that felt all too real. 

“I love you….” You whisper to no one and nothing, the act of immersing yourself in Joon’s treasures and kindness had fallen and now you were left alone and cold. Wishing that Chris would turn back and walk through the door to hold you and tell you it was all just a nightmare. All that showed in response was the suffocating silence of the apartment, and the smell of cologne, cinnamon, and rain. 

taglist: @torialefay @moon-jellies915 (lemme know if you'd like to be added to my general taglist or the taglist for this specific series!!)

[melzula]

Hi, i love your stuff! Your writing is AMAZING!

Could you do a sokkaxreader fic, where reader gets majorly hurt saving sokkas life-and she almost dies and super angst but turns sweet/fluff?

-✨anon

a/n: ugh i love angst!!! tysm for requesting this <3

warnings: mentions of blood, injury,

summary: a fight gone wrong leads to an important revelation for you and Sokka

It all had happened so fast.

One minute your group is enjoying a nice breakfast together and the next you’re fighting off Azula and her minions. They’d ambushed you, catching you in a vulnerable position and striking the moment you least expected them to. You had the advantage of numbers against them, but these girls were immensely skilled, so you didn’t have enough of an edge to completely defend yourselves against their attack.

You were assisting Katara in trying to take down Azula when you happened to catch a glance of Sokka from across the way. His back was turned to you and his focus was set on trying to dodge Ty Lee’s chi blocks, so he wasn’t able to detect the blades that were being aimed in his direction. Your eyes widened with panic as you quickly make your way towards him; you wouldn’t be fast enough to stop Mai from throwing the knives, but you’d at least be fast enough to get in their path and stop them from hitting your friend.

“Sokka, move!” You urged, shoving him out of the way and effectively knocking over Ty Lee in the process as well. You weren’t given the time to process anything else as you immediately felt the blades make contact with your skin, digging themselves deep into your back. You cried out in agony before immediately collapsing to the ground, all while Sokka watched on in horror.

“Y/n!” He screamed before scrambling to your side. The fabric of your top was beginning to turn a deep red, and you could already begin to feel the effects of blood loss take over. Your vision was hazy and your body felt cold, and yet you were still able to make out the features of his face as he stared down at you with tears in his eyes.

“Just hang on, I’m going to get you out of here!” He insisted, some of his tears landing on your face. You couldn’t find the strength to muster up a response, so instead you simply let your eyes close and allowed the cold to consume you whole.

When you regain consciousness again you find yourself in a tent. Everything hurts and your body feels like it’s on fire, and yet you can’t find the strength to move. Blurry faces hover over you and muffled voices fill your ears, but no matter how hard you try you can’t make sense of any of your surroundings.

“-more water. I need more water!”

“Why isn’t it working?!”

A sharp pulse jolts up your spine and this time you do cry out in pain, effectively startling the figures in the tent.

“Y/n!” A voice cries. Sokka’s voice.

He’s beside you in an instant, kneeling before you and taking your hand tightly in his own. You’ve never seen him like this, so distraught and terrified. You wonder what happened when you passed out.

“Try to stay awake, okay? Please stay awake,” he begs you before looking frantically to his sister. “She doesn’t look any better!”

“Sokka, I’m doing everything I can here!” His sister shouts back, equally distressed as she exerts all of her energy into healing you. Progress is there but it’s slow, and she worries that if she isn’t fast enough the damage may be permanent. Why did the blades have to hit your spine so perfectly?

“Sokka…” you murmur quietly, your eyes beginning to feel heavy yet again.

“No, no, no, y/n, look at me! Don’t go back to sleep!”

But his pleas fall on deaf ears, and you’re swept back under.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you were last conscious, but the lamp beside you must mean that it’s grown dark outside. You feel warm, the sharp pain is gone, and all that is left behind is a sense of exhaustion from your adrenaline inducing day. You try to sit up only to immediately collapse due to the soreness of your back, but at least you’re able to move now.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t move,” Sokka insists, alerting you of his presence beside you. You feel his palm carefully lift the back of your head towards the bowl of water he holds in his other hand, allowing you to take greedy gulps until you’re satisfied. “Katara says you shouldn’t try to get up yet or you’ll strain yourself. Your body is still adjusting.”

“What happened? How long have I been asleep?” You ask groggily.

“About twelve hours,” he replies sullenly, and it isn’t until this moment that you’re able to detect the exhaustion present on his features. “Those blades dug right through your skin and into your spine. Katara spent hours healing you; for a minute we thought you might not make it or that maybe you’d live but be paralyzed for the rest of your life. Why did you do it?”

“What?”

“Why did you do it?” Sokka says more firmly this time. “How could you do something so stupid like that?! You could’ve died!”

“It’s not stupid to risk my life for someone I love,” you correct him with a faint smile. Your admission takes him by surprise, his face immediately growing hot and his mind actually at a loss for words for once.

“You… you love me?” He asks gently, almost as if he doesn’t believe you.

“I thought it was obvious, dummy.”

“Not to me!” He cries defensively. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a small shrug. “I guess there’s never really been a good time; there’s always another fight to win or people to save. It just didn’t feel right.”

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs faintly. “But I’m glad you told me now, and I’m glad you’re alive. Because I can’t stand to lose another person that I love.”

You smile tiredly at his words, a new sense of understanding now being shared between you both. You love each other, and neither of you can stand to lose the other. This is real now, and you’re in it for the long haul.

He presses a kiss to your forehead then and urges you to get some more rest, and so you do. And Sokka stays planted right beside you to keep watch over you in your vulnerable state. In that moment he swears he’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.

And that’s a promise he intends to keep for a lifetime.

[monzamash]

pit in my stomach - lando norris

rating – mature (cheating, language, sexual references) requested by @landograndprix - hugging you tight, my friend!

it was hard to pin point the moment his love for you had been diminished by his crippling guilt or when you knew there was nothing he could say or do to piece you back together. maybe it was around the time you’d asked him point blank whether he saw you in his future and he stuttered over his truth with an unconvincing of course i do when the dagger had already been deployed into your unsuspecting back. naively blinded by love.

or maybe it was the night lando stumbled home from the local, half a pint of slushing lager still in his hand while the other held a small, black velvet box. he dropped down on one knee, eyes bloodshot with tears and a trembling bottom lip – a stark contrast to your hardened stare and crossed arms shielding you from the blow, physically and emotionally spent.

“i fucked up… i-god i hate that i've hurt you, baby and i wish i could take it all back – i fucked up so bad and i’m so sorry.”

“you didn’t fuck up, lando – you fucked someone else for six months and lied to my face and made me feel like i was losing my mind! do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused?”

the room fell silent, boiling blood pumping in your ears.

“huh?! do you?”

“no–”

“no you don’t! i've been stupid enough to keep chasing after you and all you’ve done is let me down and made me look like a fucking idiot! everyone knew about her, about what you were doing behind my back and you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t stop! you’re a monster and i’m not going to cry over a mistake you made…"

sadness welled as you stared down at the man kneeling at your feet. he was a stranger who only resembled the man you loved in appearance, not in honour or integrity or character – you were grieving the lando who had showed you the world with so much love and adoration and hope.

"you will have to live with this mistake for the rest of your life.”

“you’re right. i will never forgive myself 'cause she meant nothing and i have to fix this – i need to fix this because i love you.. so much. i’ll get help, i’ll see someone just give me a chance to fix it…”

“do you really think that is going to fix it?”

you pointed to the dainty box that held so much weight. in a way it represented a future founded on four years of memories, of something resembling happiness. sure, there had been disappointments, hundreds of missed calls, a few missed anniversaries and your gnawing intuition saying that maybe the paranoia wasn’t just inside your head. but ending like this, in betrayal and heartache – you hadn’t seen that one coming.

lando swallowed the lump forming in his throat, queasy from the drunken stupor he’d drank himself into and the dread settling in the pit of his empty stomach, “thought it might be start…”

a strained laugh slipped from pursed lips as venom coated your sharpened tongue, “and that is how i know you will never change.”

“please,” lando scrambled to his feet and reached out for your hand in an attempt to stop you from walking away, “please don’t leave me…” he begged, voice barely above a whisper.

lando knew he would never forget the look in your eyes when you slowly turned back to him – they were cold and punishing, bone-chilling. they swirled with the web of lies and sorrow that he had inflicted upon the person he loved the most in the world, who had given him everything she had, who loved him unconditionally, which made it nearly impossible to accept that he had lost you.

“you left me six months ago when you slept with her, lando.”

more writing...

[piowasthere]

shark comfort for Ruin pt. 2 bc he's been through enough and deserves love and affection.

made based off of the recent ep in which we learn more of his backstory by Nexus getting into his head AGAIN and reopening trauma like a wound

also design update for him after that, i wanted to 'mess up' his eye a little bit cuz even tho he resisted, i like to think his eye still got damaged a tad and he's not really in a position where he's able to fix it

[EP: How Ruin FOUND The WITHER SHARD! In VRChat (SAMS)]

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - SERIES MASTERLIST (r.c)

˚ · . TAGLIST is currently CLOSED¡!

: ̗̀➛ synopsis

: ̗̀➛ chapter one

: ̗̀➛ chapter two

: ̗̀➛ chapter three

: ̗̀➛ chapter four

: ̗̀➛ chapter five

: ̗̀➛ chapter six

: ̗̀➛ chapter seven

: ̗̀➛ chapter eight

: ̗̀➛ chapter nine

: ̗̀➛chapter ten

[more to be added]

[teapartyprincess4two]

Affectionate- M. Sturniolo

pairing: TouchStarved!Reader x Affectionate!Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

inspiration: request, thank you @sugrhigh for helping me figure this out luv u shnookums

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, slight cursing

summary: head cannons of Matt being affectionate with his touch starved girlfriend!

—

☆SFW

Affection and PDA isn’t something that comes naturally to you. When you and Matt first started dating, you would keep your distance, but eventually you grew used to it.

☆ When you and Matt first started dating you struggled with any and every form of physical intimacy.

☆ You’re mindlessly flicking through clothes racks at the mall. “Opinions?” Matt asks, holding a shirt in front of your face and slinging an arm over your shoulder.

☆ Subconsciously, you shrug his arm off your shoulder. “That’s cute! I like that,” you reply, scooting further away from Matt.

☆ “Okay, weirdo,” he laughs, but deep down it hurt every time you shied away from him. He tried not to look too into it, but it seemed like you were always avoiding his touch.

☆ “I’ll be back, babe. I’m gonna take Chris to the store,” Matt informs you as he throws his wallet and phone into his pocket.

☆ “Okay, have fun,” you reply simply. Matt stands in front of you fully expecting a quick kiss or even a hug, but you return to your previous activity.

☆ He leaves feeling sad, but still doesn’t bring it up.

☆ It goes on like this for a while, and Matt tries his best to see past it.

☆ You’re currently at an influencer event. The venue is crowded, loud, and overstimulating, forcing you to remain at Matt’s side for the entire night.

☆ He introduces you to a few of his friends, “Hey guys, this is my girlfriend Y/n.” His arms wrap around your waist, immediately causing your body to stiffen.

☆ “Hi,” you say meekly. Matt pulls you in closer, resting his head on your shoulder and peppering your face with kisses.

☆ When you keep leaning away from him, he stops and lets go of you completely. It bothers him enough for him to bring it up once you’re home.

☆ “Y/n, can we talk?” he asks, leaning on the restroom doorframe as you wash your face. You hum in response.

☆ Matt takes a deep breath, preparing to ask the question he’s been dreading the answer to. “Are you embarrassed of me?“

☆ It catches you off guard, “What? No! Why would you even ask that?”

☆ He rolls his eyes, “Because you never let me hug or kiss you.” No response from you, you don’t even know what to say.

☆ The conversation starts innocently but quickly becomes an argument. Matt keeps pushing the subject no matter how hard you try to avoid it, asking you questions you don’t know how to answer.

☆ “it’s not my fault you’re clingy!” you exclaim, throwing exasperated hands in the air. Matt nods his head slowly as his lips form a tight lipped smile.

☆ He doesn’t say anything else, instead leaving to your shared bedroom before he says something he’ll regret.

☆ You immediately wish you could take the words back. “Matt?” your voice is quiet as you enter the room, slowly crawling over to his figure on the bed.

☆ His back is to you. You snake an arm around his waist and apologize for everything you said.

☆ “Do you actually think I’m clingy?” he asks, looking at you over his shoulder. “No, I’m sorry. I struggle with the whole PDA thing, but I’m gonna try and work through it okay?”

☆ From that moment forward, you’re much more conscious of your actions.

☆ Matt will hug you, kiss you, or hold your hand in public and you no longer pull away.

☆ Instead you’re pulling him in for a longer kiss than he intended. And eventually you’re the one who initiates the PDA.

☆ You and Matt are sat on a picnic blanket, watching as the sun begins to set. “My back hurts,” he mumbles, shifting uncomfortably in his spot.

☆ You mindlessly scoot closer to him, pulling his body in until it’s resting against your chest.

☆ He gives you a surprised look, “Literally who are you and WHAT did you do to my girlfriend?”

☆ “Shush,” you chuckle, placing soft kisses all over his face.

☆ Other times, you’ll just seek his touch when you’re alone.

☆ “What’s taking so long?” you ask. Matt’s been stirring the pasta for what seems like forever.

☆ “It’s almost done, you goof,” he laughs. You groan, resting your head on his back and wrapping your arms around his waist.

☆ “You smell good,” you murmur, earning a dopey smile from him.

☆ NSFW

The lack of affection can be attributed to a lot of things, and Matt knows that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes, he can only think of one way to teach you a lesson.

☆ “What the fuck was that?” Matt grits, referring to the scene you caused in front of his friends. All he wanted to do was kiss you, but you dodged the kiss so aggressively that it was embarrassing.

☆ “Here we go again,” you say. “I’m not doing this right now, Matt,” you turn on your heels, ready to escape the conversation.

☆ “You are doing this right now actually.” He grabs you by your elbow, pulling you into him abruptly.

☆ “You think it’s cute to embarrass me in front of my friends like that?” his voice is low, his breath fanning against your neck with each word. You’re slightly intimidated, but mostly aroused.

☆ He holds a firm grip on your neck, bringing you in for a hungry kiss.

☆ Before you know it, he’s fucking you in front of the bathroom mirror. “Look at how fucked out I have you,” he growls, “remember this next time you wanna act stupid.”

☆ Other times, he’s just so extremely touch starved.

☆ Matt trails kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone, kisses that you’re trying to avoid.

☆ “I’m busy, Matt,” you whisper, but with each kiss your breath becomes choppier.

☆ “But I need you,” he whines, pressing his erection into your lower back.

☆ “Later,” you try and reason, but he’s not listening.

☆ That’s what leads to you riding him on the couch until he’s so overstimulated his eyes tear up.

☆ “I can’t—,” he whimpers. “You can,” your voice is firm. “You begged for this, baby. Don’t you remember?”

☆ He clenches his eyes shut, fists bawled at his side. His teeth bite so deep into his lip that he draws blood, orgasming for the 5th time.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: you stumped me with this rec anon lolol had to pull out the reinforcements ( @sugrhigh )

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @stingerayyy2 @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @mimi-luvzyu @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable @sugrhigh

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[weewoo911]

While we’re all daydreaming about helicopter crashes: what if just after he goes down, while he’s fighting to stay conscious, Tommy realises his comms are out and he calls 911 the old fashioned way and Maddie takes the call

What if he keeps apologising for hurting Evan while Maddie is trying to keep him awake and get his location but then the call drops

[themeridian]

i wonder if empowered pplz have to worry about human politics ?

like are david, angel, asher, and babe worried abt their marriage??

are they all voting kamala??

can d(a)emons even vote??????

[happypeachsludgeflower]

I like to imagine Yue Qi showed up at the burnt out husk of the Qiu Manor while the embers were still cooling—that he was late by mere hours.