#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

[tswkento]

whether he’s in the middle of a heated argument or being pissed at something out of his control, nanami won’t ever yell. he doesn’t see any point in it and he doesn’t enjoy the sound of his voice raising, so why would he.

arguments with you always end in a calm conversation even if initially you do yell, unable to keep it in yourself, and it’s okay because it’s a clear indication for nanami to stop whatever the hell was going on and show you that he was really trying to understand you, but was having a hard time.

and the only time kento is seen yelling is when you put yourself in danger.

it’s like he can’t control himself; the fear in him controls him, stepping on every single thing that’s sensitive and fragile, and kento’s mouth opens before he can think about his words properly. his trembling arms grip your shoulders and his usually impassive gaze is wide open in unfiltered terror as if he is trying to make you feel whatever he is feeling.

and the way you stare back at him; with your mouth slightly agape and a vaguely distant, almost foggy look in your eyes as you wheeze with every breath you take.

and he continues drilling you about how stupid your decision was, how you even dared to do something like that when he’s right there, how could you be so reckless — in the middle of an abandoned warehouse with slowly dissolving curse plasma and the faint sound of street ambiance being disrupted by his harsh voice.

he closes his mouth shut only when your weak voice joins his, a small, broken chirp as you start shaking in his hands, “‘m sorry, kento—”

the rage in him dissipates and he lets go of you, the thought of his fingers leaving bruises on you making him step away in fear of hurting even more. he rubs his face roughly as he looks around with newfound wariness, noting his glasses and weapon laying on the concrete surface just like they were when he threw them away in order to get to you.

nanami turns back just in time with your knees giving out; able to catch you and hoist you up against his sturdy body as his worried gaze roams over your features, brain trying to muster up something good enough to calm down your disturbed mind.

your tearful eyes meet his and nanami lets out a shaky exhale as he blinks away the unwanted memories of people he’s let go of in the past decade.

“i apologise for my outburst, i just—” he swallows through the dryness in his mouth, hugging you closer to himself. “i can’t see you die. i wouldn’t be able to take it.”

[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 💗✨

[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.”

[blu-ish]

Thinking about these two hours 🥺

[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.

[tarjapearce]

can we get something about reader having a kid before she met Miguel. her ex was treating her poorly while she was pregnant and after she gave birth, having her to clean the house and take care of their newborn cause the ex was too lazy and verbally abusive? After knowing Miguel for awhile, reader becomes preggo and she’s super scared that she’ll be neglected, but Miguel’s with her the whole time. or a happy ending of your choice🫣

Yee ✨

Parallels and Opposites

Landlord! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Verbal abuse, manipulation toxic relationships dynamics, controlling behavior, gaslight, mild graphic depictions of domestic violence, hurt, struggles, fluff towards the end. No proofread.

Summary: Miguel shows you what true love and family means.

If someone asked you, what would be your biggest regret, a simple name would come to mind. Samuel 'Sam' Lawson.

The man that with his sweet words and lies had stolen you out of the comfortableness and stability of your home. A man that had seduced you right after you finished college and spoke about how you'd be his perfect little housewife.

Someone that played a perfect house angel role and had convinced your parents to live with him a couple of days after the graduation ceremony. Someone that without a doubt, would've teached Judas his own lying game since it proved effective on you and everyone around you.

Samuel was loving, always filling you with gifts and smiles, always making sure you knew his heart was yours, and always making sure you wouldn't have to worry for things such as money. You were happy.

So happy that ignored the micro-aggressions that hid between the loving noise. Beyond happy that you grown used to his presence, even when he didn't need to be there and ignored your few friend's warnings of his controlling and possessive behavior.

They were just jealous that they didn't have someone like him. Right?

It was normal for your loved one to pull you apart from those friendships that deemed toxic, right?

"They're always criticizing us, babe. They're just jealous I take care of you the way they wished their simpleton partners would. You don't need people like that in our lives."

And little by little your friend's circle decreased considerably, but Sam was always there. Ever loving and supporting. Even when in his outbursts he always made sure to say it was all for your good, because he loved you. That everything he did was for you, like it's always been.

He loved you so damn much that it hurt and his relief was beer, staying outside home until late, or fucking you till your body begged for a break.

Life was generous and good, so good you had gotten pregnant. Sam was ecstatic. You finally were carrying his child. And it was enough to make you his fiancé.

"We ain't married yet, but til death do us apart, honey." He'd say, peppering your face in kisses.

There was nothing to fear. All those seedlings of doubts your friends had put, were sapped away, He loved you.

Until he found out you were having a baby girl.

His loving and protective facade begun slowly chipping away.

The beer's stench stuck on his body and breath most of the times Sam was awake. His bad mood was always rampant, making every little thing an inconvenience that didn't help your crumbling relationship.

A few dishes rested comfortably on the sink? He'd scream and to calm him down, you'd rush to clean it all up. His snacks crumbs were in his favorite seat? God forbid to Sam see them cause it was another round of cruel jokes.

"Maybe if you weren't that fat to clean, this place wouldn't look this bad."

It was his bad humor. You thought at first. You knew he had a bad temper, but you were too busy falling inlove to actually notice it seeping through the cracks. You were too busy loving him that ignored the liquid anger pooling at your feet. Slowly filling the four walls you inhabited.

He'll change.

You clung to that thought alone, hoping that this phase was only temporary. That he'd go back to the same man you met. The same mn that got you breakfast in bed and took you to dance the many times you wanted.

Not this man that hurt your mind with whatever nonsense about your body he thought and his mouth spilled. Or hit the walls, instead of hitting you because he loved you.

He loves me.

"Where's my fucking dinner?"

He's just having a bad time with the medical expenses. That's all.

"You fucking stay here all day long doing shit, instead of keeping it all together while I work my ass off to get your fatass whims."

"I clean and cook, Sam." your mouth mumbled and it was enough for him to be invading your space, his taller frame cornering you against the shiny counter you always cleaned up.

"The fuck did you say?"

You gulped. The words replaying in your mind but unable to come out of your mouth. He seemed pleased on the smell of your fear.

"Wouldn't it the least you could do to your hard working husband, hmm?"

You didn't want to admit that these sudden hot and cold games confused you to no end. But they fed your hope of bringing him back.

"I'm sorry." You hushed and he caressed your chin a bit roughly, making you look at him.

"I know. I know pregnancy is hard on you, but your babygirl is not an excuse to not tend your husband's need, honey. You gotta do better. For me."

You nodded while he kissed your forehead and you got away to serve him his dinner.

"We can't have any more mishaps, can we?"

"I'll do it better, ok?"

He squeezed you against him, satisfied you'd acknowledged your mistakes.

"Good girl."

-----

As the pregnancy went on, so did Sam's moods wings. One minute he had all the hots for you, and when he was done, having his fun, he'd go back to his cold and rude self.

Any little mistake on your end was the perfect excuse for him to throw his harbored venom your way. If he didn't attack the apparent laziness, he'd go for how weak and pathetic you were only cause the baby.

And the more he pressed, the more you got tired of only nodding with a head down. And when you talked back, he only laughed and blamed your hormones for being such a drama queen.

You amused him, and your fight response even better. Yelling became the new thing in the Lawson's home. And each made sure to have a proper turn.

Until little Lily was born.

Things grew obnoxiously quiet for Sam as you were too focused on Lily to indulge his outbursts.

At least he was gentleman enough to keep it quiet, for a bit. But Sam needed that hatred, that yelling and anger to fuel him. So he found a new way to make sure you engaged into his baiting.

He'd make noise on purpose, waking you both and Lily, keeping you exhausted and at the verge of tears. You even begged him once to let you sleep, you couldn't allow another accident due to you being beyond tired.

The bag under your eyes were heavier, weight fluctuated, but even so, Lily remained your priority. And that pissed him to no end.

That in and out continued, stretching for a long long time, everyone around you kept warming you, but you always managed to spin the conversation around. Tired was always something that described you. Your parents grew concerned and the few friends that remained on your side only supported you and Lily

Sam always had an excuse to skip family reunions. But everyone knew that it was a matter of time things to go sour.

And when your final wake up call arrived, it was like a blindfold had been removed from you.

It wasn't the argue this time, neither the beat down he awaited for so long to deliver you, despite your protest and pleas for him to stop hitting you, but the fact Sam was targeting Lily as the new victim of his rage out of control. Only cause you refused sex to him.

Because of her, you never wanted to fuck with him like the old times, you were never in the mood for anything since she arrived. Would it all be better if she was gone?

Definitely.

His mind reasoned.

But before any more tragedies could happen in the day, the vase he always complained about silenced him as it crashed on his nape, knocking him out.

And it was enough time for you to pack up whatever thing you felt necessary, grabbed your two year old crying toddler, and ran away. Ran into the freedom of the night away from Sam's suffocating claws.

No bruise or pain in your body mattered. No scream or insult engraved in your brain by his commanding and absolute voice did. Sam didn't matter anymore.

"We'll be fine, sweetheart." A reassure to you and your toddler.

----

After sojourning through different shelters and housing programs and financial aids, you finally managed to land a proper job that eventually managed you to afford a car. As long as it was functional, in good conditions, and safe wise for Lily, you couldn't care less about the model.

Your baby was three now, and finally you had managed to get a lease in a place in the middle of Nueva York's city. Perfect to reach Lily's school and your work. Life was making sure to reward your suffering with a fresh start.

The new landlord, however was everything you expected a landlord to be. Quiet, reserved, perpetually busy, grumpy at times but surprisingly, gentle and careful with the kids in the building.

Thanks to Lily, and her need of running away in random moments for you to play with her, you had ran into his apartment, your baby giggled as she stumbled upon a curious and surprised looking Miguel in the doorway.

"My goodness, I'm so sorry! Lily, darling come! This is not playtime."

Miguel chuckled softly as your daughter hid behind him.

"I think your mother is right, princesita. Go to her."

"But she is no fun!" Lily pouted, "And she's always busy and tired to play with me."

Your cheeks flustered and your eyes blinked, truly not expecting for her to vent your personal occurrences, but also hurting for the tinge of disappointment in her voice.

Miguel picked her up, and your heart leaped nervously, ready to take the harsh and judging words for not being able to properly take care of your child, like everyone.

But they never came.

"I know it must be frustrating for you to not having mommy to play with you, corazón, but running into places like that is wrong. And quite dangerous. Something could happen to you, and mommy would be extremely sad and upset."

Lily nodded apologizing, as he delivered her back to you.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. O'Hara. It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it. They're children."

"Say sorry to Mr. O'Hara for running without his permission into his home."

Your baby girl apologized, and after him reassuring it was fine, that she only needed to be careful, you returned to your apartment.

Miguel O'Hara or Mr. O'Hara for the other tenants, seemed a regular man, always up to something in the building and making sure everyone lived in perfect conditions. A place that most in the neighborhood wanted to live in.

Not only because of him and his gorgeous looks, but the actual quality of life the building had, despite being an old one.

If the sink was dripping, he made sure to see it as soon as possible. You found out that plumbing, wall repairing and other appliances were in his repertoire of knowledge, he was a multitasking man, that always waved your little girl of they met in the hall, no matter how busy he was.

The 'Hi, Mr. O'Hara!' echoed every morning through the halls along his 'Good morning, princesita.' and every evening when you returned from work and picking up Lily.

But besides your toddler interacting with him, there wasn't much reason for you to approach him. Matters of the heart were too recent and fragile to approach. Your heart had so much to do to glue back the pieces Samuel had made sure to break.

And he was always busy. Always with his head into something. Life however had these little moments that conceded you a hint of what ifs and what not.

Like Miguel helping you with the grocery bags that gave you trouble, Him making sure everything in your apartment worked properly, fixing a tire from your car and sharing a bit of his food, something that Lily rambled once to him. She told him about you praising the smell of his food from across the hall, and next thing you know, is him delivering a bowl of freshly made Tinga in your hands.

"Made a bit too much of it." He mumbled with a coy smile after greeting Lily with a smile.

He was good with the other kids, but with Lily he interacted the most. The other kids just greeted him and kept it to themselves.

Food sharing however, was only the start of something neither were aware of it brewing.

It all started with you, retrieving the favor with some baked goods, a flan. Something your daughter saw him eating a couple of times along a pack of coffee. He was always smelling like that fancy colombian package with extra roast. And a little Thank you note.

He replied with an envelope full of coupons from the supemarket on things you'd need, along a 'Saw these in my mail, I think they're more useful to you."

Cause in truth, what other concerns a single and childless man like him could have?

He realized you were a single mom cause of Lily. He noticed how she never mentioned her dad.

"Mommy doesn't like talking about him."

The girl said and it was enough for him to understand.

A couple of days later, you'd have him in the kitchen sink, looking through the pipes of the dishwasher. As it refused to work.

Miguel was patient, and explained what was wrong and pulled out a couple of toys in pieces that obstructed the blades.

Your cheeks were burning from the embarrassment, but he wasn't mad. He wasn't angry at your toddler for behaving like a child. Unlike Sam, that yelled whenever Lily cried.

"Don't you worry about it. It happens way too often than you think."

"Still, sorry, There's times when I just wanna come home and crash on bed. Work is a bit stressful and I just wanna do my best for her."

"Hey, relax." His hand caressed your arm gently, a brief yet soothing gesture that had your heart running leaps in your chest, "She's lucky to have you as a mom."

"You think? I felt terrible when she said I didn't have any time to play with her."

"She's too young to understand all what you must do for her, preciosa. Don't rack your brain about it."

"Thank you, Miguel." His words had been like a balm to your aching soul. None had actually had the decency to acknowledge everything you did for your kid, as they were all too busy judging. But not Miguel.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck nervously.

"I... I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place and have some dinner?"

"Oh?"

He gulped on your surprise, "It's alright if you don't. I think... fuck. I think that was too soon." He swallowed again, tensing.

You chuckled, "It's alright. I'll bring the dessert. And Lily if that's okay."

"It's perfect" He breathed, relieved, "She needs to keep me updated in this story on the beetle she saw in her classroom."

You laughed and his heart shuddered at the sound.

"Seems we both need an update on it."

----

"And it flew! It was buzzing and then landed on a flower outside."

"No way! Look at that, you fought the beetle! "

"Mommy says they help the flowers to grow. But everyone was scared and I fought it off!"

"Good job, princesa." Miguel chuckled as he served Lily her plate of food while you cut the flan in pieces.

The not so-date was fun and offered you a new perspective on eachother. And so the many others you had.

But life had been in a weird mood that pressed enough just to remind you, the dangers out there.

You had just came from a true date with Miguel as Lily was with her grandma. You really never lost contact with your parents, and when you grew quiet, they were concerned. But now that everything was going as smoothly as it could, the weekend visits were a must to make up for all the missing time.

You took the elevator first, to change into something more, sultry to match the night overall's mood. The soft caresses and lingering looks between Miguel and you were undeniable. And rightfully so, he had earned that spot into your heart, and what a better way to reward him with something you both died for to enjoy?

As you grabbed your keys and opened the door, a rough calloused hand grabbed you by your hair.

"Well, well.. Long time no see honey."

He pushed you in, but you budged, moving away from him yet his firm grip tightened.

"Let me go!"

Samuel had found you, after years of looking on his own. His beer breath wasn't news, yet the stench of it all made you retch and move away.

He slammed you against the wall and hovered over your trembling form.

"Where's Lily?!" he grabbed you by the collar of your dress and you spat his face.

"Fuck you!" A punch landed on your cheekbone, sending you to the floor, stunned.

"Do you know how long it took me to find you?! Where the fuck is my daughter!?"

He sat on your hips to ground you as his fist hovered over your face. No harm came however.

Strong and tanned hands pulled the paler guy away from you, like a ragdoll, growling as Miguel squashed him against the floor.

Samuel was no match for him, but the last thing you needed was more violence. Despite the anger consuming him, Miguel tossed Samuel off the stairs, earning him a pained groan from the man.

Your ex laid on the floor, unable to get up as Miguel dialed the police. Within matters of minutes, Samuel had been taken care of and took away.

You on the other hand, cried in Miguel's arms. Shaking and sobbing as the landlord himself tended your wounds, apprehension in his face.

How dared that man to touch you?, How dared that man to even think about hurting his own child? He was thankful Lily wasn't around, or Migue truly didn't know what he would be capable of.

You had explained everything to him. How it all started with Samuel, how everything changed and how you had to escape him in order to save Lily from a certain death.

To your little surprise, Sam had been escaping the law for a few years now. But that chapter in your life was now closed and tossed forever to a vault underground and threw the key somewhere you couldn't care less at the moment, nor later or ever.

"You're safe now, corazón." He cradled you against his chest, promising not a single harm would come to you now.

----

The two parallel lines in the pregnancy test finally showed up, announcing the start of a new life within you.

Moving in with Miguel in his apartment, was only one of the many perks that came in hand when dating him.

Your heart finally had the chance of opening and receive and give all that love you always dreamed of receiving again.

Miguel didn't lie, Miguel didn't treat you good because he wanted something out of you, he praised you whenever your efforts came to fruition, and was always pampering Lily, to the point of her calling him by accident dad a couple of times.

But he liked it. He loved the sound of that title in your daughter's life. Miguel was everything that was good in this world. Sure, he had a temper, but never lashed out on you or Lily. He never yelled or screamed, or bait you into a fighting game.

And it terrified you at first. You were so used to chaos that anything like calm and conflict resolution was something you had to learn if you wanted him to be at your side.

Therapy always worked and it helped you to improve all those pestering thoughts Samuel had planted on your mind.

Miguel had taken his sweet time into proving that you no longer had to fear for your life and Lily's. That you no longer had to scream to have your voice listened or that you had to fight in order to have something done.

You didn't have to be on survival and flight or fight mode.

And when you delivered the news to him? He showered your face in affection, praised you for making him the happiest man ever. Even thanked you for making one of his dreams come true.

-----

And when you found out another girl was on the way, you braced for impact.

At first, a deep part you thought that Miguel would act exactly like Samuel, and as much as it hurt you to think that way, some pains never truly left. They just remained dormant and buried away.

But again, nothing but love came your way. Miguel rambled to no end about the baby's room color, how Lily would be an amazing big sister and how she was also thrilled to have a sister.

He was excited. Not yelling. Miguel complimented your body changes and kissed your baby bump in every chance he had, not calling you a lazy fat ass.

He'd cook for you and even going to the extent of visiting the convenience store at wee hours of the night to have your cravings met, not telling you to shut the fuck up an let him sleep.

Miguel didn't allow you to stand too much time once your last trimester hit. He took charge of your home and kept it clean and comfortable for you, not insulting, yelling and accusing you for being exhausted and putting up excuses to have the house clean and his dinner ready.

Miguel was gentle and always praised you. He spent those times when you needed him buried into you, worshipping your body with such care and love before, during and after he was done pleasing you, not fucking the daylights out of you and leaving you to clean after yourself the mess he created, not caring at all if you were sore.

The sole idea of hitting you, terrified him, he confessed once, not amused him. Miguel didn't get off by taunting you with slurs like Sam did. He didn't had fun into competing for who screamed more before your voices gave out, like Sam did.

He accompanied you to every single doctor appointment and even bought you vitamins and supplements, not complained all the way home on how expensive everything was and how much you owed him for the appointment and medicines. If he bought you any.

Thank heavens Lily came perfectly healthy thanks to the vitamins your parents gave you.

And he definitely didn't hit you, dehumanized you and treated you poorly, like Samuel did.

You felt ashamed for even daring to do such comparison, but it was unavoidable. Not when everything you had know was chaos and this man offered you a complete opposite spectrum of a love you always dreamed off.

And when Gabriella was born, yours and his dream was finally complete. You got true and untampered love, and he got a family on his own, ready to show you the true meaning of such word.

[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

[more to be added]

[tswkento]

“hey, it’s okay, you know?” he quietly said, hands raising to gently rest on shoulders as he leaned closer to you.

you looked up at him, face scrunched in distress as you sniffled profusely, “it’s not! i don’t even know why i’m crying!”

one of his hands settled on the side of your face, thumb wiping away the incoming teardrops as your shoulders shook, small cries escaping you. the painful sounds were making his chest tighter with every passing second — knowing you were struggling and he couldn’t help you no matter how much he wanted to. didn’t mean he couldn’t try though.

“it’s okay, sweetheart, you can cry all you want, i’m here for you,” he whispered carefully, eyes never leaving yours to show his true sincerity, “cry until you feel just a little bit better and then we’ll talk about it.”

you started sobbing again, burying your face in his chest as his arms close around your figure; eager to protect from everything cruel the world as shown you and made you go through, ready to destroy anything that has ever made you cry or feel bad.

“i’m sorry~” you wailed, voice muffled by his shirt as your fingers dug into his sides, gripping the shirt and him tightly, scared of falling without him to steady you. “i’m so sorry!”

his nose stung and his throat was dry as he swallowed harshly, blinking away his tears as he stroked the back of your head and kissed your hair, unable to say anything other than “you’re fine, my love, you’re good” as you crumbled to your knees, forcing him down with yourself.

NANAMI KENTO, sylus, gojo satoru, geto suguru, diluc ragnvindr, neuvillette, iwaizumi hajime, honestly just imagine your comfort character(s). i sincerely hope there is someone to hold you whenever you feel bad :(

[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 :(

[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...

[rafesbabygirlx]

Time Loop

Masterlist

Rafe x Reader

Summary: Rafe finds himself caught in a time loop, reliving the same disastrous 2 days when everything goes wrong. He must figure out how to break the cycle by changing his choices, leading to new insights into his relationship, motives, and a self-realization.

A/N: might be a little delusional from school but I rewatched Happy Death Day on Halloween and had this idea written down. Read this over 100x and I’m pretty sure I follow through. Enjoy :)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut at the end

Rafe’s relationship with you was a storm of highs and lows. When other couples argued over trivial things—what to eat, misplaced items, or being late—your conflicts with Rafe were on a different level. They revolved around coke, cheating, and his relentless need to please his father.

Rafe’s habit of disappearing for “errands” tied to his dad’s business, his unapologetic flirting at parties, and the lines of cocaine that constantly blurred his reality had worn you down. Three years together, and it had only gotten worse. His betrayals were countless, yet somehow, you both stayed. Amid the chaos, there was a twisted comfort that kept you to each other.

Loop 1. It was a Saturday, and Rafe was at Kelce’s party. He hadn’t responded to your texts or calls all day. Sitting in his usual spot, hunched over the coffee table with white powder all over it, he looked oblivious to everything except the high. You arrived reluctantly, dragged by your friends who insisted you shouldn’t stay home alone, overthinking. You told yourself you’d stay hidden, avoid Rafe, and just get through the night.

You led your friends to the kitchen and grabbed drinks, steering them out to the pool where Rafe rarely went. Hours passed, with each of you taking turns fetching refills. When your turn came, the kitchen was crowded, so you slipped into the living room instead. And that’s when it happened. Your eyes locked with Rafe’s across the room. A blonde was straddling his lap, pressing kisses down his neck while he smirked at you, a cold and taunting expression. Something in you snapped. Without thinking, you threw the remains of your drink at them and stormed out before he could react.

The next morning, Rafe woke up in one of Kelce’s guest rooms, head pounding and eyes squinting against the sunlight. He reached for his phone, seeing a flurry of messages from you.

You 1:46 AM – FUCK YOU, RAFE CAMERON. You never deserved me.

You 1:55 AM – I hope you snort yourself to death, you asshole. Enjoy your coke while you can.

You 2:04 AM – YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN. I HATE YOU.

You 2:06 AM – WE’RE THROUGH. ROT IN HELL.

He groaned, a mix of regret and anger simmering beneath his hangover. He needed to talk to you. You always went to brunch at the club on Sundays, so he threw on some borrowed clothes and headed there.

There you were, sitting on the patio with your friends, your hair catching in the breeze, looking radiant and untouchable. It hit him how much he had messed up. He approached cautiously. “Hey, can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t acknowledge him, eyes focused ahead. “Please, Y/N. I need to talk to you.” You turned to him sharply. “We have NOTHING to talk about. You’re not my problem anymore, Rafe.” His jaw clenched, ego a bit strained, anger bubbling up. He rolled his eyes. “You think I wanted to be tied down with you? Always breathing down my neck? That’s probably why I cheated. I needed a break from you.” He didn’t mean it.

The lie hung between you like a knife. Your voice was icy. “You’re such a piece of shit,” you said, louder than you intended. “What was that, angel? Say it again,” he goaded. You stood up, refusing to back down despite his height. “You’re a piece of shit, Rafe Cameron. A slut, a drug addict, and a failure who will never be good enough for your father.”

The entire patio fell silent. The slap came without warning, sharp and loud, leaving him stunned. You threw down cash for the bill and walked out, your friends hurrying after you. Humiliated and seething, Rafe’s pride took over. As he left, he spotted your car. Without a second thought, he grabbed a rock and smashed the windshield, then slashed three of the tires. Adrenaline pumping, he sped off to Barry’s place and spent the rest of the day numbing himself with beer and more lines of coke. By nightfall, he was a mess, barely coherent, when he picked up his phone and typed:

Rafe 7:32 PM – baby pls I mis u dont do thiss to mee, ur al I want

Rafe 7:38 PM – bby

Rafe 7:39 PM – bbay

Rafe 7:40 PM – pls I ned you answr me

Finally, your response came, slicing through his fog.

You 7:50 PM – You should’ve thought of that before you were a complete shit boyfriend. Before you chose drugs over me, your dad over me, other girls over me.

You 7:53 PM – AND BEFORE YOU DESTROYED MY CAR, ASSHOLE.

Rafe’s rage erupted, and he hurled his phone, shattering it on the floor. “SHIT!” Barry jolted awake. “Damn, country club. What’s your problem?” He throws his crushed phone back at him. “Nothing,” Rafe muttered, tossing cash down before leaving. He considered going to your house but decided to sleep it off and try again tomorrow.

Loop 2. The next day, he woke up at noon, head heavy, stomach in knots. His phone, perfectly intact, rested on the nightstand. The date read Saturday. Confused, he checked his messages—none of what he remembered existed. Before he could think too hard, Ward barged in, ordering him to get dressed and join him on errands.

The day felt like a warped replay. He ignored your incoming texts, but told Kelce he’d be at the party, and numbly followed the script. That night, as he sat at Kelce’s, a girl climbed onto his lap, and he froze. Between the drugs, and the shock of realizing what’s happening he just sits there. She straddles his lap, grinding down onto him and kisses his neck. He looks up and sees you and gets instant deja vu. You appeared at the door, eyes wide with betrayal. Just like before, you stormed out after throwing your drink. He threw the girl off of him and tried to reach you but you slipped through the crowd before he could. He couldn’t believe what was happening. This is exactly what happened in his dream. At least he thinks it was a dream.

With the drugs and what just happened he feels like he’s loosing his mind. He heads upstairs and passes out on the guest bed. Not surprising when he wakes up to see you sent the same text messages again. He doesn’t know what to do. But he repeats the same process. Finding you at the club, trying to talk to you, you embarrassing and leaving him standing there. He walks out to the parking to see your car but he doesn’t touch it this time. Panic crept into his mind, a distressing realization that something was wrong. At Barry’s later, he tested his theory. “Hey, did I come here already?” he asked. Barry squinted. “Yesterday to pick up some for the party, you good man?” Rafe’s stomach dropped. The night had repeated itself. He left, pacing in his room later, mind racing. Glancing at his phone, he stomped it underfoot, shattering it again.

Loop 3. Rafe woke up with a migraine, instinctively grabbing his phone. The screen glowed brightly, not a single scratch, displaying the day: Saturday. His heart sank as a familiar wave of confusion washed over him. Everything was playing out exactly as it had before. The knock on the door was immediate, and soon enough, his father burst in, barking orders. His phone buzzed throughout the day incessantly with your texts, followed by Kelce’s message about the party and a request to score some coke. Rafe felt a nauseating sense of deja vu again, an unsettling lightheadedness clinging to him throughout the day.

At Barry’s place, Rafe pocketed a bag of coke, glancing nervously at the dealer, who was lounging with a cigarette. Barry was the only person who might not think he was entirely out of his mind. “I gotta ask you something,” Rafe blurted out. Barry raised an eyebrow, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “If it’s a favor, I’m not doing it.” Rafe sat down across from him, trying to still the tremor in his hands. “No, it’s not a favor. Do you ever feel like you’re stuck in a loop? Like, the same thing playing over and over again?”

Barry’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about, Country Club?” Rafe rubbed his face, feeling his pulse race. “I’m serious. It’s like I’ve lived the same two days over and over for nearly a week now. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s real. I can’t shake it.” Barry snorted, a half-laugh slipping through. “Man, lay off the coke for a while. It’s messing with your head.”

At Kelce’s party, Rafe felt the buzz of anticipation crackling around him. He sat in his usual spot, beer in hand, taking only a small line of coke, half-dreading and half-expecting what came next. Just as he suspected, the blonde girl approached, eyes glinting with interest. His heart raced; it was happening again. He let her sit beside him, testing the reality of the loop. Just then, he spotted you entering the room, and the recognition in your eyes shifted to anger. You threw your drink, and before you could walk away, Rafe caught your arm.

“Baby, please,” he said, voice trembling with urgency. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Your eyes flashed with hurt and rage. “Oh, now it’s important? Not when I called or texted you all day? Not when you’re so high you fuck anything that breaths and forget I exist? Now, suddenly, it’s important?”

Rafe pulled you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as the noise of the party dulled. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not high. I knew everything that was going to happen today. I had to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. Please trust me. I love you.” Your expression hardened, eyes glistening. “You don’t love me, Rafe. You’re not making any sense. You sound insane. I’m leaving. We’re done. Officially, done.”

He reached for you, desperation turning his voice raw. But you pushed him away, tears streaming as you walked out. Rafe stood frozen, guilt and helplessness clawing at him. For the first time, he left the party nearly sober, trudging up to Kelce’s guest room. He threw himself face-first onto the bed,

The next morning, Rafe bolted upright and glanced at his phone. Sunday. Again. He quickly dressed and drove straight to the club, determination hardening his features. Before you could brush him off, he dropped to his knees by your table, ignoring the looks of your friends and the other members

“Please,” he begged. “I know I look crazy, but you have to hear me out.” You stood up and motioned for him to follow you out to the golf course, away from prying eyes.

“About what I said last night,” Rafe continued, breathless, “it wasn’t just rambling. The party—it’s happened three times. I’m living the same 2 days over and over. I get up, do stuff for my dad, get to the party, you find me, we break up, I come find you hear, there’s no resolve, I go to bed Sunday night and when I wake up it’s Saturday again. I don’t know why, but I’m losing you each time, and I can’t take it anymore.”

You crossed your arms, a wall of hurt and skepticism. “You expect me to believe that? After three years of lies and betrayal, you think I’ll buy into some theory about time loops all of the sudden? No, Rafe. I’ve had enough.”

He reached for your shoulders, his voice breaking while he smacks his cheek. “Look at me. I’m sober, I’m awake, and I’m telling you the truth. Something isn’t right, and I can’t let you walk away.”

Your eyes softened for a moment, but you shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t do this.” And with that, you turned and left him standing on the empty fairway, the early morning light casting long shadows. Rafe stood there, piecing together the pattern. The loop was about you. It was punishment, a reckoning for the way he’d taken you for granted. Each version of the day confirmed that losing you was the universe’s way of making him face the consequences. But if he had this chance, he’d use it. That night, he skipped Barry’s and stayed in his room, scribbling notes and plans, willing himself to break the cycle.

Loop 4. Rafe woke up early, it’s Saturday… again. His heart thumping as he texted you before you could reach out first. He asked if you’d meet him at the dock, the place where you’d had your first date. When you agreed, a rare glimmer of hope sparked inside him. When you arrived, he stood and hugged you tightly, pressing kisses to your forehead. You pulled back, a puzzled smile playing on your lips. “What’s all this for?”

“I just love you,” Rafe said, voice steadier than it had been in ‘days’. “Please, sit. I need to talk to you.” You settled on the blanket, accepting your favorite snack he handed you. “So, talk.” He took a breath, the weight of three years and three repeated days pressing down on him. “I know this will sound insane, but hear me out. I’ve been in this loop—like, I’ve woken up on the same Saturday, again and again. Every day, the same mistakes. Ignoring you, getting high, letting someone else come between us, and you leaving. When I go to bed Sunday night, k wake up and it’s Saturday again.It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and I can’t lose you again. I need you to believe me. I don’t want anything to be the same. I want to change for you. Maybe it’s just a dream. But it feels so real, I can’t shake it. I can’t lose you.”

You studied his face, eyes searching for any hint of deceit. Then, cautiously, you placed your palm on his forehead, half-joking. “You’re right. You do sound crazy. But you’ve never promised to change before. That’s… something.” A sad, hopeful smile tugged at Rafe’s lips. “I mean it. I’ll do anything. I’ll go to rehab, give up the coke, anything. I just want you.”

Your lips curved into a small smile, and you leaned in, kissing him gently. “Come on,” you said, pulling him up by the hand. “My parents aren’t home. Let’s go somewhere we can really talk.”

Back at your house, you sat on your bed, facing him. “You know how much I love you, Rafe. But how much do you really love me? These past three years have been exhausting. I’m tired of giving and getting nothing in return.” “I love you more than anything. I’m sorry it took something this insane to make me realize how much I need you. I want to make up for all the time I wasted. I promise.”

You brushed your thumb along his cheek, turning his face to yours. “Then prove it. Promise me again.” You leaned in, and he whispered between kisses, “I… promise.” He lays you down on the bed, resting in between your legs. You grip his shirt trying to get it off. He sits up pulling it off and you mimic him pulling off yours. He reaches your lips again and you both fumble with each other’s pants. When you finally get each other’s clothes off, he lifts you up into the center of the bed. Kissing his way back down to lean in front of you. Leaving kisses on your inner thighs making his way to your clit. Just the simple kiss has your back arching. Rafe is never this gentle with you. It’s usually quick fucks or rough. Never soft or intimate so you make sure to take in everything. He takes his time. Making sure he tastes every bit of you. He keeps going and your back lifts off the more and more until a wave of relief washes over you. Rafe doesn’t stop until you’re back on the bed and your grip of his hair loosens a bit. He cleans up what’s left and makes his way back to you, leaving behind a trail of kisses.

He stops for a second just to stare at you. Wondering how he got so lucky to have someone as beautiful as you and how he just managed to fuck it up and take advantage of all that beauty and love. You stare back at him wondering if he’s serious, but you’re so in love with him that if he is you’ll be there every step of the way. You grab the back of his head and pull him back in to continue kissing him. Your other hand reaches in between you to line him up and you nudge him to push in by wrapping your legs around his waist. He slowly enters you, savoring each second. He moves instantly but the thrusts are different. They’re strategic and careful. You let out moans and he moves to the crook of your neck kissing it softly. He keeps these movements the entire time. You both climax at the same time and he goes to move but you hold him against you.

“You swear promise?” You ask while rubbing his back. “I promise, every bit of it. The both of you lay in bed for the rest of the day and when nightfall comes you fall asleep in each other’s arms. When Rafe is woken up by the light peaking in from the morning sunrise. He checks his phone instantly it’s Sunday. He panics a little but then he notices the weight on him. It’s you, lying on his chest. He lets out a sigh of relief realizing the cycle was broken, he’s back in reality. He pulls you in close giving you a kiss on the top of the head.

[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)]