#and he just says whatever and goes upstairs

[arreish]

I will never in my life understand how someone can have a fight/argument or just generally upset their partner and go to sleep without resolving anything. How? How can you sleep knowing your partner is upset?

[boowritess]

very mild 18+ simon riley x reader

lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.

atleast to you.

when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.

he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.

he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.

he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.

it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.

even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.

but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.

it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.

he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.

"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.

around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.

Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.

"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.

"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.

Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.

he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.

'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'

image attached

Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.

Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.

he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.

just you and your simon.

a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo

[lovelookspretty]

Imagine sweetheart reader x rafe where her friends and family including rafe tells her she deserves better and rafe gets insecure and hurt and reader is there to comfort him and they have sex.

sweet

rafe cameron x sweetheart!reader

warning(s): 18+ smut mdni ! oral sex ( fem receiving ) & penetrative sex, p in v, reader is assumed to be on birth control, fingering, praises, choking, possessiveness, rafe is primal as hell ( jk not as hell but yk )

authors note: i changed it a bit js so its both families saying this. but i hope u enjoy !! sweating nervously ( edit : STOP WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I TYPED SARAH N WHEEZIES NAMES WRONG PLS )

“you just deserve, i don’t know . . . literally anyone else?” wheezie says, earning a laugh from sarah across the table. you’re unsure of what to make of it as you sit there quietly.

you’re seated with rafe’s family outside their home for lunch. ward insisted you join them that day, but with you there, sarah and wheezie thought it would be funny to tease you guys. half of it was actual teasing but the other half seemed a little too . . . real.

you’re unable to even eat comfortably with the comments your boyfriend’s sisters have been making.

sarah goes to continue what she was saying after she’s done laughing, “sorry y/n but—”

“can you guys just shut up?”

the table falls silent as everyone looks to rafe who’s seated beside you.

rafe stares at his sisters, not understanding what’s going through their minds to be such assholes today. “whatever,” he mutters under his breath and pulls the napkin off of his lap, throwing it on the seat next to him. he gets up to leave you all outside.

you feel awful as you see his sisters glance at each other, and you excuse yourself from the table to follow him inside. “rafe,” you’re calling out to him but it’s clear that he wants to go upstairs to his room. “rafe, baby.”

he stops at the foot of the stairs, his back still turned to you as he listens to his name being called. after a moment, he sighs heavily and slowly makes his way back up the stairs, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“rafe,” you whisper to yourself as you continue up the stairs to chase after him some more, and you find yourself in his room.

rafe is pacing back and forth, his mind racing with all the things his sisters said and how it made him feel. he hears the click of the door shutting and his heart rate picks up, hoping it’s you. when he glances at the entrance, you’re standing there with a small frown on your face.

“baby, i don’t think they meant anything they’ve said,” you insist, but rafe is clearly not convinced. “they were just joking around.”

“joking around?” he scoffs, his voice laced with sarcasm. “they say shit like that every time you’re here. jokes can only be funny for so long. and it fucking hurts, okay? it . . .” his eyes well up in tears as he looks away, trying to explain himself. he’s just frustrated. “fuck,” he hisses, leaning his head down to wipe his eyes with his fingers.

“it . . . it makes me feel like i’m not good enough for you, like you deserve someone better than me,” rafe continues, and you hold your own hand as you listen, upset that he has to feel this way. “and your parents said the same thing last week, remember? when we had dinner with them?”

his words bring back the exact memories you wanted to bury deep under. you feel all the more worse for him.

“yeah, and it fucking cuts deep, knowing everyone around us thinks i’m not good enough for you. that i’m holding you back or something,” he says, and sits down on the edge of his bed. “fuck, maybe they’re right.”

you shake your head as you approach the boy carefully, wanting to respect his boundaries but also wanting to be there for him.

you lower yourself down on your knees in front of him, and you reach forward to take his hand into yours, your eyes pouring into his.

“we are absolutely equal, baby. they’re all just stupid and rude! if anything, you’re too good for me,” you reassure him. “i promise you this rafe. we deserve each other.”

rafe looks at you, his eyes searching for any sign of doubt or uncertainty, but all he finds is your unwavering love and support. he’s always known you to be his number one, to be his comfort, and the sweetest little thing he’s ever touched.

he nods and pulls you in for a tight hug. “i love you darlin’,” he whispers, the name rolling off his tongue just right that makes you smile each and every time.

his hands wander further down before he’s scooping you up onto his lap and his muscular arms wrap around your body.

rafe is silent for a while, and he just buries his face in the crook of your neck, squeezing you tight against him. his mind is racing with the most discouraging thoughts that make him wanna sink into the floor or just punch a wall, but having you here keeps him anchored. his breathing calms as he closes his eyes and just feels you.

“i don’t deserve anyone better than you, rafey. i just deserve you,” your voice is a mumble as trace different shapes and patterns on his shoulder and back. “don’t even deserve you, you hear me? i love you.”

you pull away to peck his lips once or twice. his lips are soft like usual but his kisses back are just a bit rougher than yours. you’re able to giggle about it as you pull him back in for the real thing.

rafe kisses you back softly, glad that you always know how to reassure him. he loves you so much and he trusts you with his heart.

his hands slide up and down your back as he enjoys the kiss. he moans softly into your mouth as he deepens it slowly. you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso, and you pull him closer to you as you makeout.

rafe chuckles and happily wraps his arms around your waist in turn. he presses you closer as you keep on keeping on. he loves it when you get as passionate as he does.

you whimper when his hands begin to guide your hips on top of him naturally. you can feel yourself grinding down against him slowly but surely, and his hands squeeze at your hips. “want you,” you plead in between the kiss.

rafe grins and bites your lip a little harder before pulling away, making you moan. “and i want you too, baby. don’t worry,” he says as he stands up easily with you in his arms.

he sets you on the bed and continues to kiss you, mumbling back, “i’ll take care of ya.” his hands explore the hem of your dress before his hands are underneath your dress, feeling your every curve.

“fuck, you look so beautiful,” rafe says as he pushes your dress up higher and higher until it’s bunched around your waist. he leans down to kiss your stomach and then your hips before he looks up at you with those hungry eyes of his. “let me see your pretty pussy, sweetheart.”

you’re shy but you lift your legs up for him to take off your underwear before you pull your legs apart, the sun through his window hitting your pussy perfectly for his view.

“fuck, that’s it. you look so adorable giving yourself to me like that,” he breathes and leans down to kiss your inner thighs, his stubble rubbing against your delicate skin. he starts by kissing around your pussy before licking the inside of your thighs.

your hand reaches down to run through his hair. “rafe,” you moan out.

“do you like watching me, sweetheart?" rafe asks with a smirk before he finally licks directly over your folds. he loves that he can make you moan just by kissing you. it makes him even more determined to make you enjoy it.

rafe continues to eat you out, his tongue moving in and out of your pussy at a fast pace. he’s so hungry for your taste and he can’t get enough.

he pushes your legs further apart and buries his face between your thighs, his hand reached out across your body to choke you softly. you use both of your hands to hold onto his arm.

rafe smirks up at you from between your legs. “you taste so fucking sweet,” he praises, continuing to lap at your pussy. he loves how wet he’s making you and it only turns him on more.

rafe finally decides to slip a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out steadily. he loves how your pussy clenches around his finger, trying to keep him from leaving. “look at you, sweet girl. can you take another one for me?”

when you nod, he adds another finger to the mix, and you feel it stretching you out. rafe’s thumb moves up to tease at your clit.

“do you like that, huh?” he asks, knowing very well that you’re enjoying this. he leans back down to flick his tongue back and forth against your clit.

you can’t take the stimulation from both his fingers and his mouth. “want you inside of me,” you manage to say between whimpers.

rafe doesn’t hesitate to give you what you’re begging for. he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, but brings them up to his mouth and sucks on them so he could taste you fully. the look on his face after could be mistaken for him tasting a batch of your warm, homemade cookies, but instead it’s your slick.

he works on undoing his belt before he’s pulling his pants and briefs all the way down. his cock is thick and heavy, with pre cum adorning his red tip. he’s desperate to feel you.

rafe moves up your body so quickly you barely notice until he’s coming down over top of you, one hand keeping him up as the other lines himself up with your pussy. he guides the head to drag back and forth between your folds, teasing you before he guides his tip in.

he uses his body to push himself deeper inside of you until his skin reaches yours, bottoming out. his jaw hangs slack at the feeling of being inside you again.

rafe has always been very good at giving into his primal urges. his need for sexual release is only heightened by the desire to please you, the love of his life. he continues to thrust deeply into you, enjoying the tight, wet feeling of your pussy.

“you feel so fucking good," rafe growls into your ear, thrusting deeper and harder with each stroke. he can’t hold back, not even if he wants to. his hand comes up from his side and grips your throat, gently choking you as he fucks you.

your eyes roll to the back of your head. “mmh,” you moan as your hands find his wrist against to hold onto it. “deeper. please.”

rafe chuckles darkly, his free hand reaching down to rub your clit in tight circles as he continues to fuck you. “oh, you want me to fuck you deeper? my filthy little sweetheart who loves getting choked and fucked senseless.”

you nod rapidly.

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” rafe breathes out, his hips snapping against yours at a maddening pace. “you’re mine, you know that, right? mine to choke, to fuck, to worship.”

“i’m yours rafe,” you say.

just moments pass and you already feel your clit burn in pleasure as you get closer to your high. you feel like bucking your hips up to get a better angle to make it come faster but rafe just thrusts faster and deeper, listening to the sounds you two make. it’s like heaven.

“that’s right, you’re mine,” rafe says, his voice low and husky. “you’re going to cum for me like a good girl, aren’t you? gonna take every inch of my cock and cum all over it.”

rafe’s thumb on your clit speeds up, his other hand keeping you in a tight chokehold as he fucks you relentlessly. “come on baby. cum for me. let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze my dick as you cum all over it, hmph?”

the tip of his cock hits your g-spot at the right pace that you feel yourself let go. rafe can read your body well enough that when you cum, he speaks up again,

“yeah, that’s it, fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum for me,” rafe grunts, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. “you like that, sweet girl?”

“i love it baby,” you cry out as you’re being overstimulated while he’s fucking the cream you made back into you. you’ve made such a mess on his dick but you have a few extra moments to relish in the feeling.

rafe’s face contorts in pleasure as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock twitching as he releases his load inside your spasming pussy. “fuck, holy fuck . . .” his voice is low and quiet.

rafe’s thrusts gradually slow down as he catches his breath, his cock still buried deep inside you. his grip on your throat loosens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his body still trembling slightly from the aftermath.

rafe pulls out of you slowly, his cock glistening with your combined fluids. he takes the opportunity to plunge his fingers inside of your pussy one more time, while still warm and dripping. he curls his fingers at just the right angle before he pulls out of you again.

he brings his fingers to his mouth as he maintains eye contact with you, sucking one of them clean with a dirty grin on his face. he wants to make sure you’re seeing this.

“fuck baby. open up,” he mutters as he reaches out to you with his other finger that’s covered in your cum. “you just taste so sweet.”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Satoru Gojo

Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹

“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.

Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.

“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on. 

Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.

Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.

“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.

“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,

“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.

It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.

Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison. 

“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.

When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”

He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms. 

He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.

Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.

“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first. 

Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.

[deadloverxx]

thinking about aventurine, sex with whom was a one night stand at first.

male reader, 18+, mdni, top male reader, alcohol use.

he didn't expect anything more or anything less when getting a little bit too tipsy with you on a night out. you know how this goes - cards, poker chips, a couple of cocktails on your table, and as the night progresses those cocktails turn into a bottle of wine, then of whisky... and before you know it, the chips are abandoned on the table and his credit card pays for a private suite upstairs, and your lips clash in the elevator as you taste the mix of everything you drank and ate tonight on each other's lips.

it's not you specifically, aventurine tells himself as he watches you tear his clothes off, your teeth and hands all over him. he was just feeling lonely, went along with the moment, he tries convincing himself, but you feel just a little bit too good rearranging his insides, moaning in his ear as he left little scratches on your back. and as you kept plunging into him, he couldn't even think or say anything besides "hmm! y/n... fuck, more, more..!"

and when he wakes up with sunlight on his face, and your arms around him, he panics. it was just a drunken mistake, everyone sleeps with their friends sometimes, he thinks, quickly dressing up and searching for his belongings within the mess of the room the two of you made. but when closing the door behind him, aventurine couldn't help but steal a glance at your peacefully sleeping form. downstairs, he paid for you both and ordered you the nicest breakfast in the room, not out of guilt, he tells himself, "just so his hangover is a bit better.."

and yet he finds himself thinking back to the encounter when nights get a little too lonely. he can't help himself but send you a message

"wanna play tonight? all on me."

the loser has to do whatever the winner wants. and the whole time you were both laughing, he clenched his fist under the table, breath barely noticeably hitching. and when you, unsurprisingly, lost the round, it was field day for aventurine.

his purple, charming eyes gaze in yours as he announces his wish, tongue gently running over his lips. "kiss me." voice echoing, trying really hard not to shake as the gambler tries desperately to keep up his facade of dominance, to hide the dreadful fear of rejection. and as your hands find themselves against his waist again, lips, teeth crashing, you mutter: "could've just asked me like a normal guy."

aventurine chuckles, that chuckle suddenly drowning out in a moan as his hands clutch to you in desperation, rubbing up against the hard on in your pants, growing more and more desperate. when you find yourself in his bed this time, he makes sure to treat you better, already prepped beforehand, shaved and waiting for you to fuck him over and over again all night long. cum on his face, body and hands, he can't even go to the shower, because once he does, pulls you in with him and moves on his knees.

this morning he doesn't run away, instead admiring the both of you in the mirror, tracing your handprints and hickeys on his pale body, cock getting hard all over again, just in time for you waking up.

[evie-sturns]

needed this - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a month-long business trip, you finally return home to your boyfriend matt. you find out he hasn't came since you left, obviously you have to help him.

warnings: smut, very sub!matt, overstimulating, swearing.

-------------------°°••....••°°--------------------

i've been away with work for just over a month, meaning matt's had the house to himself, i'm finally arriving home this evening.

7:54pm

i twist the key into the white door, pushing it open. the scent i'm so used to filling my nose. "matt!" i call out, placing my bag down by the front door and bending over to unstrap my heels.

"i missed you." he says with a grin, speed walking up to me and wrapping his arms around me. i bury my face into his chest, "how was it?" he asks with a wide smile.

"it was good! how was the empty house?" i say, grabbing matts hand and dragging him upstairs.

"lonley as shit without chris and matt aswell, they've been filming with other creators for ages." matt says with a sigh as we walk into our shared bedroom.

"oh yeah, i saw that tara and shit meetup with them" i say, pulling my minidress off over my head.

i can feel matts eyes laying on me as i scavenge through our closet for anything comfier to wear, giving i've been in dresses for 5 weeks straight.

matt clears his throat, "movie?"

i nod, "yeah, yeah just pick whatever you want sweetheart."

matt flicks on the tv at the end of our bed, i unclasp my bra, letting it fall to my feet. i grab one one matts shirt, pulling it down past my head,

i jump into bed beside matt, my leg resting across his waist and lap as i cuddle to his side. the netflix intro blares through the room

"jesus christ!!" i laugh, grabbing the remote and turning down the volume. "my bad." matt says with a smile, shaking his head and pulling up the white fuzzy blanket over us.

-

8:23pm

i shift the leg which is laying across him, i feel matt grow tense under me, "you okay?" i whisper, looking up at him. "yeah- no yeah- yeah no i'm good." matt stammers, i laugh slightly,

"matt whats wrong?" i say with a giggle, "no- no yeah, shit i'm fine." he says again, his cheeks a deep red as he fidgets with his rings.

"matt." i say with a serious tone. "stop!- i'm fine!" he says, getting worked up.

i sit up in bed abrubtly, the blanket falling off my body, i look down at matts crotch,

hes hard.

he yanks the blanket up over his lap, i pull it back down and straddle his thighs, staring into his eyes. "why are you hard?" i ask quietly, "i'm not!" he instantly replies, his eyes drifting away from mine.

i palm him through his sweatpants, squeezing lightly, he lets out a breathless groan. "so.. what was that?" i tease him,

"i dont know? just your leg moving.." matt says, rubbing his eyes with his fists,

"you got hard from my leg?" i laugh slightly, he nods.

"thats okay." i assure him, reaching for his waistband and toying with it, his breathing intensifies quickly, "why are you so sensitive?" i ask, "just been different since you left a month ago" matt says quietly

"different like how?" i push,

"haven't- you know.." he sighs, "i don't know actually." i reply cheekily.

he doesn't reply, his eyes fixed on my hand which is resting just under his waistband. "tell me the last time you touched yourself" i say, matt goes redder somehow.

"month ago." he says, barely audible "thats okay." i say, tugging his waistband down. "please.." matt whines slightly, "i know." i say, pulling his waistband down to his mid-thighs.

"you want this?" i ask, lifting my self off his thighs to pull my panties off, "jesus, obviously." he says, i shoot him a 'watch your tone' look and he instantly goes quiet.

i sit up, hovering myself above matts tip, which is now red. his hands stay by his sides, i'm 95% sure his brain is so fogged he doesn;t know what to do with them anymore.

i grab his cold hands, placing them on my waist. i stay sitting above his tip for a few more seconds, its tempting to see how worked up i can get matt. he trys to guide me down, but i resist.

"please." he says, "matthew, stop whining and tell me what the fuck you want." i say, "please, you know what i want" matt says shyly, i stay still, waiting for him to practically beg.

"ride me, please?" he breathes out, i can see his stomach jolting up and down from his desperate breaths underneath his white sweater.

i nod, moving my hair to one side and slowly sinking onto matt, he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands dropping from my waist and balling up the white fuzzy blanket. i slowly take more of his length before bottoming out, sitting comfortably on his dick as matt lets out small whimpers

"you alright?" i ask, grabbing his hand which is squeezing the sheets.

he nods his head, "look at me, matt." i say, he opens his eyes, letting in small breaths. "calm. down." i say, he nods again as his top teeth sink into his pink bottom lip.

i slowly start to bounce on him, his eyes stay fixed on me as i quicken my pace. i throw my head back as i balance my hands on his thighs behind me.

"close- really close." matt squeezes out, "no, not yet matt." i tell him.

"i can't, oh my fuck-" he whines, his grip on my waist tightening, the cold metal of his rings pressing against the warmth of my skin.

"you can, and will." i say, placing a hand on his stomach to balance myself as i continue to ride him. he lets out soft groans as he throws his head back into the pillows, his hair flopping.

"your okay, your doing so well." i say with a small moan as I repeatedly hit my g-spot.

suddenly i feel matt release, coating my insides. matt rubs his eyes "did i tell you you could do that?" i say, looking into matts eyes.

"im sorry, shit- i'm so sorry." he rambles, instead of pulling off him, i chase my own orgasm. he groans from overstimulation, "too much, sensitive-" he says,

"is it my fault you came early?" i say as i sit down on his cock, rubbing my clit against his pelvic bone.

he shakes his head, somewhat arching his back off the bed as his hands dig into my waist. i let my head falll foward as i look down at matts hands,

"fuck it hurts." matt says,

we have an established safe word, he knows he can use it whenever he needs, but he's not.

"you want me to stop?" i ask, he pauses for a moment before letting out a breathless "no. fuck please dont-"

i continue to bounce on his length, i feel the pit in my stomach growing as my cheeks flush, matt has mutiple tears falling down his cheeks.

"i think i'm close-" matt says, my eyebrows twist with a small laugh "again?" i question, "yeah- shit." matt groans .

i clench around him, i think thats enough for matt to finish. the knot in my stomach snaps as i feel matt finish again. i collapse down onto matts chest as i attempt to catch my breath, he reaches down and pulls out of me with a wince.

"you okay? did i hurt you?" i say as i rest my face on matts shoulder.

"yeah- no im fine, needed that a lot." he says, his fingers tracing mindless shapes on my back.

after a handful of minutes i sit up on matts lower stomach before lifting myself off him, stepping down onto the plush of our carpet. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up." i say, wiping matts face with one hand, matt stays still on the bed.

"matt? stand up" i say, matt has a small smile on his face, he wipes his eyes before starting.

"i cant.. stand."

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

[luveline]

hi jade!! it’s currently nearly midnight for me, but, i was wondering if we could get some comfort with spencer (or hotch, whichever one is more fitting in your opinion) and his girlfriend when she’s getting burnt out (in case you couldn’t tell this is grossly self indulgent. Oops.) love you jade!!!!!

ty for requesting, love you! fem

Aaron has conducted an investigation on you in the past few weeks. He doesn’t like his findings. 

“You’re acting like me.” 

Laid on his couch with a box of chocolates on your chest, you send him a suspicious look. Jack sneaks over to take one of your favourites in a blur of brown hair and blue pyjamas. You hardly react.

“Jack, did I get those for you?” Aaron asks.

“He can have some,” you say, glaring at him. It’s not necessarily fake anger, but it’s also not real anger either. Annoyance, perhaps, of which you’ve found yourself a victim these last few weeks.

“They’re supposed to make you feel better.”

“Jack being happy makes me feel better.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Alright, but when there’s none of the best ones left, don’t come crying to me.” 

“Come here. I’ve saved you the one with the walnut.” 

Aaron answers your demand. He lifts your legs and lays them across his thighs, and he only eats a chocolate every time you force it into his hand or against his cheek. The gifts he’s been giving you seem to work some in repairing whatever it is that’s getting you down. You have no answers for him —irritates you more, being asked, because you have no answer. 

As far as Aaron can tell, you’re still in love, work is fine, and Jack’s your best friend. He isn’t even doing it in the name of chocolate. Aaron reaches over to stroke Jack’s hair and Jack, apparently too old for fatherly affection, won’t let him do it, but you’re allowed to scratch your nails along the back of his neck. 

At nine, Aaron takes Jack upstairs for bed. Again, he’s too old for stories now, but not too old to get tucked in and kissed goodnight. He thinks of it as a dad win. Jack doesn't fuss. He says, “Night dad,” and “Love you,” and then “Love you more!” when Aaron pesters him. 

“Dad?”

Aaron pokes his head back through the door. “What, sweetheart?” he asks. 

Jack grins. “Can you tell Y/N I said goodnight, please?” 

“Of course I can. Love you three times, okay? Try to sleep now, otherwise you’ll be tired in the morning.” 

Jack rolls his eyes but puts his head down.

Aaron smiles about Jack, his growing boy. He’s worried about you, which has the smile surely fading. Aaron’s worried about you too, but he hasn’t felt like he could do much about it. You’re agitated, restless, tired but somehow not. You’re just drained of all your energy, no matter how much sleep you get. 

Aaron goes down the last of the stairs, following the sounds of you to the kitchen. You’re making two cups of something, Aaron can’t tell. But you’ve stopped at the sink, flaring your fingers, watching the skin tighten around your knuckles. 

“Having that headache again?” he asks softly. 

“I’m sorry for being grumpy all night.” 

“If we had to apologise for grumpiness, I would always be emphatically sorry.” He taps at your elbow until you fall into his chest. “Oh, honey,” he says, a little theatrical, but mostly genuinely sympathetic, “whatever this is, it’ll go away.” 

“Feel garbage and stupid.” 

“You are neither of those things.” 

“I need to get over it, though. I can’t just feel like this. It has to end eventually.” 

“I think by rushing it, you’re actually erasing any progress you’re making. You’re burned out, honey. It could happen to anyone, but it’s happening to you, so why don’t you just let me spoil you for a few days? Ooh, let’s play hooky.” 

“As if.”

“You should actually take a few days off if you feel like this.” Aaron hugs your forehead to his nose forcefully, which makes you giggle all weird. He loves it. “Let me call your doctor, you can get an appointment. Just a few days for emergency mental health care, mm?”

“You are asking me a very serious question but acting very non-serious,” you murmur. 

Aaron kisses your cheek. “Do you want me to be more serious?” he asks sincerely. “Serious hasn’t worked so far. I thought we’d fake it till we make it.” 

You curl your arm behind his neck to stop him from rubbing the scruff of his chin against you anymore, pulling away, meeting his eyes with warmth. “Thanks for saying ‘we’.” 

“You and me,” he says, rubbing you with his chin anyways.

[liiixsturniolos]

in desperate need of a matt angst fic with a happy ending

like maybe you guys fight because he’s been an ass all day and once he makes you cry he feels bad and makes it up to you. like something suuuuper angsty

you ask, I deliver 🙏

౨ৎ Flowers ౨ৎ

dad!matt sturniolo x reader warnings!: angst, fluff

summary: Matts giving you attitude all day, until he realises how wrong he was, apologises and makes it up to you.

Matt almost storms into the room, his boots slamming against the ground.

"Matt. Will you stop stomping? I just put Addy to bed!" You scold him.

He ignores you and walks past you as if you weren't there.

"Matt!?" You yell.

"Fuck! What?" He screams back.

Your eyes widen in shock at the way he spoke to you.

"Matt? What's wrong..?" You lower your voice, tilting your head slightly, questioning him

"Nothing, God." He scoffs, walking away from you, into the backyard.

You slump down onto the couch. turned on the TV and ignored whatever Matt was doing in the yard, just to be disrupted by your daughter Addy's cries. You lift yourself up from the couch and go to settle her back to sleep. Once she falls asleep again, you tip-toe back down the stairs.

Matt comes back into the house. You turn your head to look at him. His face, still angry and irritated.

"Where are those new pegs I bought?" He grunts, raiding the kitchen looking for them.

"Pegs?" You ask.

"Yeah, pegs for my bike?" He says In a dull tone, as If you should've known what he meant.

"Oh, I'm not sure. Did you check the garage?" You suggest

"Obviously, I checked the garage." He mumbles.

Your face goes red, and your jaw tenses up. Who does he think he is talking to? Does he think your fucking stupid? You've done nothing to piss him off, but for some reason, he's taking all his anger out on you.

"Matt, what's all this attitude about?" You ask, your eyes glaring at him.

He doesn't even look up at you to respond but keeps opening up kitchen cupboards looking for his motorcycle pegs. "What attitude?"

"Matt, are you kidding. You're talking to me as if I'm dumb, and you ignored me earlier." You bark back at him.

"God, stop nagging me.." he says, instantly regretting it and looking up at your face in fear of how you'll respond.

You sigh in disbelief. Roll your eyes, and walk upstairs to your daughters room.

"Shit..." Matt whispers to himself. He knew how he was acting. He knew he was in the wrong.

He flung his boots off and ran up the stairs after you. You see him follow after you and just scoff in response, lifting your daughter up out of her crib.

"I'm sorry. I know I was an asshole. Fuck. I shouldn't have been. Just my bike was pissing me off. I can't seem to fix it, and Nick and I argued yesterday. That's still playing on my mind. I'm sorry. Kay? I was rude." He blurts out, remorseful, raising his eyebrows and looking at you, hoping you'll forgive him.

"Okay. Just tell me what's wrong next time. You don't gotta' be so secretive about what's making you mad." You advise him, slowly rocking Addy back to sleep.

"Can I take her?" He asks you. "You deserve to sit down a while, I know I've been in the garage all day. It's my turn." He says softly.

"Yeah, of course." You smile sweetly, heading downstairs to go and finally watch TV.

Matt stays in Addys room, holding her and gently rocking her while singing to her quietly. When she falls asleep again, he places her back into her crib and strolls down the stairs.

"I'm gonna go out to the store. Do you want anything?" He whispers to you.

"Yeah, chocolate?" You smirk

"Of course." He says.

Twenty minutes later, you hear the car pull up on the driveway, and Matts key is unlocking the door.

"Hey darlin!" Matt shouts from the door.

"Hey!" You respond.

He walks over, hands you your favourite chocolate, and a bouquet of flowers.

"Aw! Thank you, sweetie!" You exclaim

He hugs you tight and lays soft kisses along your neck.

You let out quiet gasps as he works his way down with the kisses, tossing the flowers in your hands to the side...

part two..? if you enjoyed this, please interact! (comments, likes, reblogs, are all super appreciated) thank you! comment on any post and ask to be on my taglist and ill add you!

taglist: @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @1-d0nt-w4nn4-b3-m3-4nym0r3 @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh

[babygirl-riley]

Hi I have a request so it’s like Simon and his wife arguing pretty badly like to the point where she’s shouting bare at him she’s on the verge of tears and while their arguing their new born cries so the reader goes upstairs to the crying baby once their baby is calm she doesn’t even go back downstairs to talk to him she just like stays in the baby room and goes on her social media to distract her self from Simon.

Hii so I have this written in my notes I always do that so I don’t forgot what I’m gonna ask and I hope this is what u meant tho cause im so slow it acc took me bare long to understand 😭

Quiet Home

You and Simon have been back to back arguments. Before you both could finish this one a loud cry interrupted the fight.

A/N: this is exactly what you asked for 😭 So embarrassing truly 💀 However this really tugged the heartstrings

“I want to be close to you, but I don't know what to do.'Cause if we are near to through, it may make it worse.”

Warnings: baby blues, depression, anger, arguments, fighting, yelling, screaming, baby crying, swearing, soft!simon, husband!simon, happy ending

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You were exhausted, you would clean, go get groceries, wake up every hour with the newborn, and everything in between. Usually you had Simon right beside you and help you with the smallest things. However, duty calls. Price promised Simon a couple months leave however, it was an emergency.

When Simon first brought it up, you knew he saw the rolling of the eyes but you brushed it off. Simon brought it up later and you just tried to push it away. Eventually it blew up. Things were said and yelled that weren’t meant to come out. Simon slept in a different room and he was gone for a couple of weeks.

You didn’t answer his calls but text him updates. It was petty but it’s a petty time. You were promised to have your husband here with both your child. Yet you are here almost falling asleep anytime it was early in the morning to feed the baby. You sat outside of the room of your baby as she bailed and bailed, being irritated and tired. Eventually you would go in sure but you were so scared that you would yell at her for being a baby.

After the couple of weeks you tried to brush it under the rug as you made Simon’s favorite dinner. Knowing he would be home. He text you stating that he will be home around 7 o clock and he was excited to see both you and the baby. 7 went to 8, 8 went to 9, 9 went to 10, 10 went to 11, and so on. The food went cold and baby was down. Especially you were tired.

You already put the food away and sat in the living room. You watched the clock before you angrily got up and started the bath. You needed to cool down. You heard the heavy footsteps heading down the hall. You rolled your eyes with the clock read 1 AM.

Simon noticed the light beaming through the room you both shared. Inhaling deeply he stepped in and rounding into the bathroom. You stood with a robe on and touching the warm water.

“S��rry ‘m late.” He said watching your movements.

“Okay.” You said not looking at him.

He frowned and shook his head. “I had a ton of paperwork and didn’t notice the time. Thought I had enough time.”

You didn’t say nothing as you went to the cabinet and pulled out your favorite salts for the bath. Simon watched as you poured them in and went back to put it away. “Y/n please.”

“Please what Simon? You were late. You weren’t here. Shit happens right? Emergencies happen. It’s whatever at this point.” You scoffed as you finally looked at him.

Simon noticed the anger in your eyes. He was upset that he left without resolving the last fight. He was upset that when he called you didn’t want to talk. He was upset he wasn’t home when he was supposed to be and not seeing his babygirl. He also noticed you are tired. Exhausted even. The bags. The purple shade underneath your eyes. “It’s my job you knew that when you signed up for it.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You don’t think I know that? Don’t you dare throw that in my face Simon. We were promised a break for our child yet he drags you back and you are willing to without a second glance.”

“Really? It goes back to me not carin’ about our family huh? That’s what you said before I left. You think I care more about my job than us.”

“Yes! Yes I do! I think that you are stuck in a loop without anyone but you! You are fine with just going instead of being here!” You yelled starting to walk out and brushing passed Simon.

“It’s my job! I have to go! I can’t leave my team behind!” He yelled back following you.

You scoffed as you ripped your robe off, ripping open your drawers. “Right but you can do it to us.” You mumbled pulling out sweats and a t-shirt.

“What’s that supp’se to mean?” He basically growled.

You snapped up and looked at him. “Ever since Millie was born it was like you have been gone. You will help yes but how long did that last before you skipped your happy ass to Price,” You yelled pulling the sweats up as you felt a sting of tears coming. You laughed as you heard nothing from him. “I have been doing this by myself with no help! Nothing Simon!”

“That’s not fair! How many times do I have to say it’s my fuckin’ job…”

“You have a job here!” You screamed as tears started to spill and right before anyone could say anything a wail broke through the air.

You both stood there for a minute before you raked your fingers through your hair. You wiped your eyes angrily. “Damn it,” You pulled your shirt on before walking out, grabbing your phone on the dresser. “I am sleeping in the other room.” You slammed the door shut before walking to the baby’s room.

You opened it as Millie screamed louder. You cried as you walked closer that turns to a sob. You didn’t know what to do. How to do it. You don’t know how to keep her asleep and fed and changed without being upset. You gripped the crib hard as you couldn’t move. You were tired and your baby needs you. “I’m sorry,” You cried as you picked her up and shushed her softly. “I know I know.”

You sat in the rocking chair as you let your baby fed. You scrolled on social media seeing all the happy couples. All what they are doing. All your friends looking like they don’t have problems. You missed Simon, not like he changed, just his touch, he soft voice when he whispers I love you. You missed his laugh when you both would have that marriage banter. You missed his tea.

You are afraid that maybe having a kid was a bad idea. That it ruined or tainted everything. You looked at your baby and inhaled. How could you think like that? What has she done to make you feel that way? It seemed like anytime Simon was around you were angry. Small arguments that turned into this. Your lip trembled and you held your baby closer to your chest. Tears prickling your eyes.

You threw your phone on the ground and sobbed. You were a monster. How could a mother think like that? Why would a wife yell at her husband for doing his job? You kept thinking about all the bad things that happened or been thought of that you didn’t notice that your baby was being scooped up.

When the cold air touched your skin, you opened your eyes panicked. You thought you dropped her as you looked down with tears blinding you before you felt a hand on your cheek. You snapped your eyes to see Simon, holding your baby girl close to his chest as she was asleep. “Baby,” He whispered concerned on his face. He was kneeling as he wiped tears after tears. “Come on let me put her to bed and let’s go talk please.”

“No,” You mumbled as you stood up. “I got her.”

Simon stood up and shook his head. “Please, you look tired.”

“I-I no she needs me.” You whispered but made no move to grab her.

“She has me too,” He said quietly. “Go to the kitchen please.”

You stared for a moment and looked at your baby. How small she was compared to him. How secure she looks when he was holding her. You nodded as you wiped more of the tears away. “Okay.”

Guilt pinged your chest as you glanced once to see him bouncing a bit as he slowly put her down. You walked into the kitchen and sat at the island as quiet tears slipped. You are tired you felt your body relax and felt heavy. “Baby,” You snapped your head up and saw Simon holding a kettle. “Do you want tea?”

You nodded once and looked away. It was quiet as he face the kettle waiting for it to go off. “I’m still mad at you.” You mumbled.

Simon nodded as he turned to lean against the counter. “Why is that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Simon you know why.”

Simon walked up and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Y/n I’m not doin’ it to hurt you two.”

You froze for a moment before looking away. Thoughts of how it could be different with him not having the damn job. However, he was right he wasn’t doing it to hurt you. “I told Price to call someone else but…he needed me for what I know.” You slowly looked at him as Simon looked the other direction. “I fought the old man about it for days. I didn’ say nothin’ cause I knew you would be upset. I didn’t notice that I was pushing you and our princess away. Just-just tried to figure out how to get out of it…I’m sorry.”

Now you felt even more bad. He tried to fight not to go and fought for the two of you. You inhaled but don’t exhaled afraid of sobbing once more. The moment Simon looked at you, you sobbed and hid your face with your hands. “I didn’t-I’m so sorry Simon.”

Simon walked around and shook his head as he turned the chair to gently pull you on for a hug. “Baby I should have said something and not fought it alone.”

You sobbed and sobbed as everything came down. “I’m so tired Si. I am tired of being awake so damn early. I am tired of cooking. I am tired of not being able to do anything. I am tired of fighting with you. I am sorry Simon. I should have been m-more understanding. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve to marry such a bitch. I have been so ru…”

He gently pushed you off to grab your wrists to show your face. Simon smiled softly before grabbing your chin with his thumb and finger. “I know. I know. You been overwhelmed with so much. We will figure it out yeah? It’s okay, we are fine. I married you for you even when it’s rocky. It won’t always be perfect.”

You calmed down a bit as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

The kettle goes off as Simon kissed your forehead to walk over. You sat still as Simon came around. “I will be here right now, try my best to help you my love.”

You looked up and saw him, his eyes glowing with love. You inhaled and nodded as he pulled you back into his chest. You snuggled in and felt warmth throughout your body. God no one deserves Simon Riley.

[nosyrobin]

|| UNCLE!READER LOSING HIS GLASSES ||

You woke up, it’s a new morning of you visiting the manor. Glorious! But, when you tried to reach for your glasses, they’re missing. Missing? MISSING?! You can’t see, you’re panicking, terrified. You’ll go blind for the rest of the day like a bat! You got up quickly to try and feel for them as your blurry vision tried its best to see them. Damian walked in with a tray with breakfast, smiling like he won the lottery as Titus was by him. “Uncle! I have prepared you breakfast in be—" “not now sport, uncle lost his glasses and can’t find them.” You said hurriedly as you lift pillows up and down.

Damian immediately puts the tray down and goes to look for them. You both are trying to neatly search for them. Damian says maybe you both should check the living room as you had napped in there before getting to bed. The two Waynes nodded and rushed down stairs, well Damian rushed while holding your hand since you were still blind. Tim walked into the living room to see that you and Damian were busy looking for something. “Whats going on?” He asked as he sits his coffee down. “Lost my glasses Timmy, can’t find em.” Tim immediately got to finding them along you and Damian.

Jason came out of his hell hole of the room to the commotion of his little brothers and uncle just searching for something. “Did uncle lose his glasses again?” He asked as he starts to search with no questions asked. “Yes Jay I di— how did you know?!” “Because you lost them a lot when I was a kid. Now hush old man, let’s find them.”

Searching high and low, Jason went to search the library. No clues there other than the books you had set out for you and Jason to read later.

Dick walks in, confused as he held groceries seeing his three brothers and uncle searching like wild apes. Telling what’s going on, he immediately went to searching as well. In the kitchen was stupid, sure! But usually you take your glasses off when you open the oven to take things out. So what’s the problem? After searching, and searching. You couldn’t help but sit down in the living room feeling defeated. The boys surrounded you, feeling sorry as you just rubbed your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger.

“DONT worry unc, we’ll find them!” “Yeah what dickhead said.” “I could try and make a magnet to get your glasses!” “Let’s just double check for them you fools.” Words being spurred out the boys made you smile, but you just shook your head no. “I could just buy me a new pair..” you said.

The boys didn’t even heard your words as they went off to do their things till find your glasses. You just sigh, Alfred walks in where you sat. “Master Y/N, I suggest you check your room again. I remember when you were a young boy you lost them so much you put them in a certain place.” He says. Hinting is what he is doing. So you listened and got up from the chair and walked upstairs.

Hearing the commotion of your nephews trying to find your glasses. You could tell titus had something with your scent up to his nose as he was trying to sniff out your glasses. Damian smiled as he walked behind his dog. Dick and Jason were walking around as if this was a patrol mission. And Tim was obviously in his room trying to make whatever he can. You walked in your room, and boom! Your memory came into place.

Turn out, you left them in your glasses case in the drawer of your bathroom. You walked into your room, then the bathroom and grabbed them. All the boys rushed in your room, yelling at how they will “found” them. You turned around telling them the story and they all fell dramatically on top of each other. The battle of the nephews was done but not over.

[nadvs]

home before dark (part seven)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe feels like he’s come undone. The string that just barely keeps him composed has unravelled. There’s no use in trying to tie it back together. Not when you’re holding him like this.

You’re standing in your bathroom as he cries into your shoulder, your breaths intertwined. His knees are weakening and it’s getting harder to hold his weight as he leans on you.

Your arms are loosely encircled around his neck and you collect every bit of strength you have in you to hold him up. You can feel the moisture from his tears dampening the fabric of your shirt, hear the gasps of breath spilling from his mouth. You can’t help but cry with him.

When you slowly glide a hand up the back of Rafe’s head, stroking his hair, he cries harder, his body thrown off center even further after being touched so gently. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you in closer.

Rafe’s chest is burning, his hand still aching from nearly punching the life out of your ex-boyfriend. His legs are giving out and he realizes just how much he’s bearing down on you.

“Shit,” he grumbles, angry at himself for hurting you. “Sorry.” He straightens, pulling back just a bit, your cheeks touching.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your voice sounds just as fragile as the atmosphere between you. You’ve never wanted to take care of someone more than you do right now. “Let’s go to my room.”

You keep all the lights off as you pace upstairs. When you reach your room, Rafe sits on the edge of your bed, sniffling.

You watch his darkened figure angrily swipe at his tears. You settle beside him, your heart stinging, the side of your thigh pressed against his.

“I…” Rafe’s voice is hoarse. His heart is racing. He’s failing at choking down his sobs. “I can’t stop.”

“You don’t have to stop,” you say. You watch him helplessly, eager to do whatever you can to ease his pain, to make him more comfortable.

You wipe one of your own tears away and rest your hand on his shuddering back, feeling how damp the cotton of his shirt is, surely from sweat.

You can’t get how he looked leaning over Ty out of your mind, the way he struck him over and over. When his friends pushed him up against the wall, he looked so angry and lost.

“Are your pajamas in the other room?” you ask.

Rafe nods. You rush away towards the guest room.

He feels completely powerless to his own body. He’s lost every bit of composure he thought he had. He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, sitting in your room, crying this hard in front of you.

He should’ve known being around you long enough would wear him down. His mother may be gone, but the weight of losing her never will be, and every time he looks into your eyes or feels your skin on his, he remembers that he’s carrying that weight everywhere he goes.

When he’s in this state, he takes whatever he can get his hands on to get wasted enough to forget. But he doesn’t have anything to numb his agony.

You return holding Rafe’s sweats and t-shirt and see him hunched over your bed, his head in his hands. You sit next to him again, his clothes bunched up against your chest. His breaths are short and uneven.

“I can help you get changed,” you say, words faltering between your tears. “And I can ramble or I can be quiet or whatever you need to fall asleep.”

Your chest aches even more at the desperation in your own voice. It reminds you of being ten years old, standing at Rafe’s bedroom door, offering to do anything just to carry a piece of his pain for him.

He rejected you then. He’s rejected you a thousand times since. But tonight, he lowers his hands from his face and turns his head just enough to catch your gaze.

“Okay,” he murmurs, throat thick with tears.

He remains sitting as you stand and lean over him to bunch the bottom of his shirt in your hands.

You pull the fabric up over his torso and he lifts his long arms for you. Your eyes are better adjusted to the dark now, allowing you to see the way his chest is rising and falling as he breathes through his cries.

In any other scenario, undressing him like this would feel suggestive, but the intimacy between you is innocent. You’re helping a friend in pain. At least, you hope he considers you a friend now.

The cotton of his pajama shirt is soft between your fingers as you draw it over his head. He finds the strength to pull his arms through the sleeves and then shuffles to unbutton his jeans. You help him take his jeans off and replace them with his sweatpants.

Rafe still doesn’t get why you think he deserves your unconditional kindness. But then he remembers what you said downstairs. You said he’s good. When was the last time someone called him good?

It’s been years since he thought something positive about himself. But maybe you’re right. Maybe whatever good you see in him really is there.

He pushes himself up to his feet to brush his teeth in the bathroom down the hall and you quickly change into your pajamas in the dark and get ready for bed.

When Rafe comes back into your room, his strides are slow and his shoulders are hunched as he settles into your bed.

“Do you need ice for your hand?” you whisper. “Or some water?”

“No,” he responds. He shifts, head resting on your pillow, and swallows hard, never having had a harder time saying what he wants before now. “Just… come to bed.”

It’s jarring. The same man who’s spent years averting his gaze the second you walked into a room, who found the quickest way to end every conversation you tried to start, doesn’t want to be apart from you for even a minute.

You sink into the mattress next to him, bodies turned towards each other. His breaths continue to hitch with his cries. It’s like he’s letting out all the tears that he’s repressed tonight.

You find his hand and stroke it gently, fingers running over his swollen knuckles.

One of the last times someone tried to help Rafe was when the paramedics arrived on the side of the freeway. They were asking him if anything hurts. If he could slowly get out of the car.

The rain was falling from the dark sky in hard, heavy drops and he had to shout for them to hear him. He kept telling them to check on his mom. They told him someone was already with her. He told them they should all be checking up on her and not him because he was fine but she wasn’t breathing.

“What are you thinking?” you ask. After a moment, he answers.

“It never gets easier,” Rafe says, his tone teetering on whimpering. His grief is still eating him alive. It never stopped.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, your tears hot against your cheeks. “Did you… ever get any help? Anyone to talk to?”

“No. At the beginning…” His mind flashes through how much the therapist he saw after it happened reminded him of his mother. Since he was ten, all he’s done is run from every reminder. “No. I couldn’t.”

You inch closer to him, holding his hand tighter, your legs tangling together.

“How about your family?” you ask.

Rafe can’t do this.

“Distract me,” he whispers. “Please distract me.”

You scramble to find something, anything to talk about. You think back to the start of the summer and the hopes you had before your ex started tormenting you both in and out of your relationship.

“I haven’t been off the island as much as I’d like to,” you begin. You press your hand against his chest to feel his heart, gauging if your words are helping. “I was thinking to go into the mainland some more this summer.“

You start to talk about how you’ve daydreamed about seeing what kinds of things the world has to offer across the water.

Rafe shuts his eyes, letting your sweet voice permeate the air, filling him with a quiet warmth like it always does.

You chase away the demons when you speak to him like this. You short-circuit the painful thoughts that rush through his head. You blur the terrifying images he sees. And it’s so much better than any drug he could ever take.

Slowly, you feel the pounding in his chest recede into softer, further apart thumps. His breaths are still sharp, but his sobs aren’t as hard. You comforted him like this when you were kids and it grants you a sense of pride that you can still soothe him.

Minute after minute, Rafe’s crying loses its intensity, and finally, he dozes off with your hand pressed against his sternum.

Your eyes gently flutter shut. The sound of his deep breathing alleviates you after what may have been one of the worst days you’ve ever had. You fall asleep feeling the pulse of a boy who lost his innocence too soon.

Rafe can’t remember the last time he slept so deeply. He drifts into consciousness feeling rested for the first time in ages.

You’re facing him, your hand cupped around his, his knuckles up to your lips as you sleep. He watches you in awe.

At some point in the night, he remembers shuffling awake and feeling your lips press against his sore hand, kissing him and calming him in your dazed state.

Rafe looks at the way your eyelashes curl over your closed eyelids. You were so patient with him, letting him cry as hard and as long as he needed to.

Can he actually do this? Can he have you in his life in a real capacity, instead of just inside this arrangement to keep you safe? Can he let you in while keeping something so painful from you?

You still don’t know the whole of it. He never wants you to. He’s not sure what to do, so he slowly shifts out of your soft bed.

It’s a few minutes past nine when you make your way downstairs. Rafe is sitting in the front room. You had hoped he’d stay in bed with you this time.

“What time are you meeting the lawyer today?” he asks once he sees you.

“Ten.”

“I’m going with you,” he says. He told you he wouldn’t leave your side and he’s not breaking his promise.

You nod, staring at him. It feels like there’s distance between you again. Does he regret last night?

“How are you?” you ask quietly, leaning against the wall.

Rafe’s eyes flit to you. When he sees the sorrow in your expression, he tells you the good instead of the bad.

“Had a good sleep,” he tells you. He looks away again. “Thanks for…”

“Of course,” you say once you realize he won’t finish his sentence. “Any time.”

Rafe rubs his knees, his hands running over the denim of his jeans, remembering how you took them off for him last night. It’s embarrassing to think about how he broke down in front of you.

“I need to go home,” he says, “to shower and get some clean clothes. I’ll come back.”

You watch him leave and you lock the door behind him. Maybe he’s just uncomfortable after everything last night. You try not to let it get to you. But it gets to you. Because it’s Rafe and his effect on you has always been to impossible to avoid.

You arrive at the lawyer’s office in your car with Rafe in the driver’s seat. You asked not to take his bike simply because driving out in the open like that was daunting. Your nerves are sitting heavy in your stomach. It still feels unbelievable that Ty has gone so far that you had to get the law involved.

Rafe asks you if you want him in the office with you. You do.

You settle across the desk of the kind-faced lawyer, your hands clasped tightly together. She tells you how sorry she is about your circumstances and that your court date has been set for a week from today.

She explains the process of getting a permanent protective order and goes through the evidence you have. Rafe looks over at you every so often, his chest pinching from how worried you look.

“Do you have any questions?” she says.

“The police told me that if he violates the order, I should report it,” you say. “Is there someone on the case I can call? Or should I go to the station? Or the courthouse?”

She shakes her head in disappointment, looking genuinely sympathetic of your situation.

“What happened?” she asks. “I can relay it to the police. You don’t have to worry about going to them. I’m here to make this easier for you.”

“Thank you,” you say. “He ran up to me last night, yelling about how I went to the cops. I think he was going to…” You look at Rafe, your lips twisting. “I think he was going to hurt me but my friend stopped him.”

You wonder if friend is a generous title for what Rafe is to you. Or maybe not generous enough.

“He knew you went to the police last night?” she says. “I called them before our meeting. Your ex-boyfriend was informed of the temporary order this morning.”

Your body flushes. Ty didn’t know about the court order last night. But he knew you went to the police.

“He was probably following me yesterday and watched me go to the police station,” you realize, eyes darting to Rafe again. “I didn’t… I didn’t see him. Did you?”

“No,” he says. He was extra vigilant yesterday. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“The parking lot wasn’t that full,” you stammer. “I didn’t notice a car following us or anything. How did…”

It hits you. Maybe he hasn’t been tailing you like you thought. Maybe he’s had another way to know where you were without having to be there.

“What if he’s… tracking me somehow?” you ask the lawyer. “That’s illegal, right?”

“Yes,” she tells you. “He’d be criminally charged.”

You look down at your lap. Just like yesterday, fear makes you feel like you’re leaving your own body.

You pull your phone out of your pocket. It’s the only thing you have with you constantly. He could’ve put something in it. You stare at it in your shaking hand.

But why did you find footprints in front of your house a few nights ago when a tracking device would have told him that you were at a party down the street? What reason would he have to be creeping around your empty home?

Unless it isn’t in your phone. It has to be in something else you own. Your mind is racing. Your car was parked in front of your home that night. You walked to the party. Maybe Ty thought you skipped out on it. That you were home alone.

The footprints never made sense. Until now.

“Could it be somewhere in my car?” you ask her.

You struggle to keep your composure as the lawyer talks you through what would happen if they find something and link it to him. Depending on the judge, it could mean jail time.

You thank the lawyer when you leave, taking her advice to drive your car to the police station and have an officer search it.

It all happens so fast. You watch two cops inspect your car. You hear one of them mumble “I think I found something” to his coworker. Your stomach drops.

Rafe is standing next to you the entire time and when he sees the small, white box dropped into a plastic evidence bag, he has to step away for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose in anger and disbelief.

There was nothing, nothing you could have done to deserve any of the shit this creep put you through. Learning that he was aware of your every move for who knows how long makes Rafe’s skin crawl. Beating the shit out of him last night wasn’t enough.

You’re silent when you leave the station. Rafe keeps looking over at you as he grips the steering wheel.

You’re gazing ahead, your stare distant, your body curled like you’re trying to make yourself smaller so nobody can see you.

He’s livid that the cops didn’t think to investigate further. You had to come to the conclusion yourself that your ex was tracking you.

“It’s their job to figure this kind of shit out, but you had to do it for them,” he mutters angrily. “And they seriously told him to stay away from you just this morning?”

“Yeah,” you say flatly. You’re in a fugue state. Your heart is racing. It’s hard to breathe. Your skin feels cold.

“Did you eat?” Rafe says.

You shake your head no.

“You need to eat.”

“So do you.”

“Don’t worry about me right now,” he says with a huff.

“I’m always going to worry about you,” you say absentmindedly. Your words are so simple, but they make his stomach go numb.

You approach a red light. Rafe taps his thumb against the wheel. He needs to make things better.

“We’ll pick some food up, alright?” he says.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When you see you missed a call from your dad, it’s what pulls you back into reality.

“I have to call my dad back,” you mumble. You rub your forehead in frustration. You can understand why Rafe always wants to be distracted. It’s so much easier than dealing with a scary, painful reality.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” he asks.

You almost tell him he doesn’t have to. But he knows he doesn’t. Finally, you accept that Rafe isn’t just looking out for you only because he feels like he needs to. He wants to.

“He’s not going to believe that we’re…” you trail off.

In this second, Rafe decides having you in his life is worth reliving any echos of the past. He’ll just bury the truth deep enough that he’ll forget it exists. He can do it.

“Friends again?” he says.

You meet his eyes and when your lips pull into a small smile, so do his. You don’t have to wonder if he’s still stuck in the idea that this will only be temporary anymore. It’s a ray of light in the darkness that’s become your life.

A car honks impatiently behind you and Rafe looks ahead to see that the light turned green. At the same moment he groans “shut up” to them, you mutter “relax”, and you both chuckle at your shared frustration.

Rafe pays for the takeout and when you arrive home, you sit at the kitchen island together to eat. You don’t have much of an appetite, but you take as many bites of your lunch as you can to gain the courage to call your dad.

“I think I can do it,” you say, picking up your phone. Rafe nods and watches you with softened eyes as you put the phone on speaker. After a few rings, your father answers.

“Hi,” you say. You take a deep breath. “First of all, I’m safe, so you don’t need to worry. But I ended things with Ty after you left and he’s been taking the break-up really badly. I… had to get a restraining order yesterday. I know it sounds crazy-“

“What? Are you alright?” your father asks.

“I am.” Your eyes meet Rafe’s. “I found a lawyer. And Rafe’s been helping me through all of it. I’m with him right now.”

“Cameron?”

“Yes,” you say. You’re not sure what your dad may say about who he knows to be your estranged childhood friend, so you rush to your next sentence. “Can you come home?”

“Of course. I just told your mom to start looking for flights,” he responds. “Are you… a restraining order? How - what has Ty been doing?”

You suddenly don’t feel as capable to speak as you did minutes ago. Retelling it yet again feels agonizing. You look at Rafe in desperation. He holds his hand out to you and you pass him your phone.

You watch as Rafe speaks to your father, addressing him as sir, reassuring him that you’re not alone or hurt. He walks back and forth through your kitchen as he speaks.

You watch his tall figure pace in front of you. He has the sense to give your dad a watered down version of the past few days. He mentions how Ty has tried to get into contact with you and the tracker the cops found, but he leaves out things like last night’s fight.

“Thank you for looking out for her,” your dad eventually says with a worried sigh. Rafe’s eyes find yours.

“It’s no problem,” he responds.

After your father says the earliest flight they could find would have them arrive home at eleven p.m. tomorrow, he tries to reassure you, telling you it’ll all be fine.

You hang up and go back to trying to eat. Rafe sits beside you.

Curiosity starts to prick at Rafe. If you’re really going to be friends again, he’ll see your parents around more often. Your dad sounded appreciative on the phone, but maybe he was just being polite. He’s not so sure they like him.

“Do your parents ever ask about me?” Rafe asks.

“They used to,” you say. “But I asked them to stop a long time ago.”

His eyes remain focused on you. He’s waiting for details.

“I just said we grew apart,” you add. “I didn’t want to tell them you wouldn’t talk to me.”

Rafe looks away in shame. The fact that you haven’t told them what really happened reminds him of what he heard the day you were in Sarah’s room. You never let anyone say anything bad about him. She always knew you liked him.

Rafe’s heart-rate quickens at the idea of you having those kinds of feelings for him. While his sister probably only said that because she’s under the impression you’re dating, the thought of you feeling the same thrill he does when you touch won’t leave his head.

It feels good to imagine you liking him like that. And he’s used to chasing whatever feels good, so he’ll allow himself to feed the delusion.

“I’ll be different,” Rafe says. “I won’t act like that anymore.”

You smile. Things don’t feel as cold as before. Not even close.

“Good,” you say. “I don’t know how we can be friends if you do.”

Rafe’s dimples dip into his cheeks when he smirks, relieved but not surprised that you’re being so compassionate.

The sight of his smile makes your problems feel a hundred times lighter.

After the takeout containers are empty and in the trash, Rafe cocks his head as he looks at you, more nervous that he thought he’d be to propose this.

“You said you wanted to get off the island,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” you say with a laugh.

“Now.”

You recognize Rafe’s family’s boat bobbing in the gentle water when you reach the docks after a quick drive to the marina. The afternoon sun is hidden by clouds, adding gusts to the warm summer air.

Rafe is quick getting the boat ready for departure. You sit on the bench behind the helm, watching him start the boat and navigate into the dark blue sea.

After a few minutes of quiet, the only sound being the rippling water and humming motor, you stand beside Rafe, seeing the coast in the far distance.

“We don’t have to dock anywhere if you’re cool with that,” you tell him. “Honestly, it feels really good to be out here.”

“You don’t want to go to the mainland?”

“No,” you tell him, an uncontrollable smile on your face. “This is better.“

You step out to the bow, leaning over the point of the boat. Rafe can’t keep his eyes off of you as you stand ahead of him. In this moment, finally, he’s not in the past. He’s living in the here and now.

You look back at him every so often, the smile on your face so beautifully genuine that it makes him swear he’ll do whatever it takes for you to smile like that as much as possible.

It’s nearing sunset when you get back to the docks. It feels so easy to be with Rafe. It’s like you’re kids again, no discomfort or sorrow or anger between you, just two souls that don’t need to second-guess if the other wants to be there.

“I’m exhausted,” you say as you both enter your house.

“From what?” Rafe teases, watching you reset the security system as he shuts the door. “I drove the whole time.”

“Does it have to be a competition of who’s more tired?”

“Yeah. It does,” he responds, stepping close to you as you punch in the numbers.

“You really haven’t changed at all,” you say with a happy shake of your head, turning to face him.

“What’s that mean?” Rafe asks, his tone low and amused.

“It means you always wanted to win at everything.” You cross your arms and tilt your chin to look up at him, taking in the way his windswept hair has fallen over his forehead. You want to brush it back.

“What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s just an observation.”

“What else have you observed?” Rafe asks.

He lifts his arm to lean against the wall, tilted over you. Your eyes drag over the planes of his handsome face, wondering if it’s just you that feels like you’ve been angling towards flirting with each other all day.

“About you?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says, squinting in a self-assured way.

Just a few nights ago, it still felt odd having him in your home, standing right here, but now, it feels natural. Rafe slipped back into your life, nearly effortlessly. You’re sure it’s because you’ve always held a place for him in it in case he ever wanted to come back.

“You’re just as protective as you were then,” you say. “No. More protective, actually.”

You don’t think the Rafe you knew before the accident would have ever resorted to violence. But you don’t tell him that.

“You’re honest,” you say, a grin on your face. “And fun. And I think you have a ridiculously strong sense of responsibility. How am I doing?”

Rafe looks down, his tongue jutting beneath his cheek as he huffs a chuckle.

“Only for you,” he says solemnly.

“What?”

“I only feel a sense of responsibility for you,” he says. He gazes at you again. “Before you came asking for help, I really didn’t give a shit about anything.”

You almost have to steady yourself. Your playful smile drops, your lips parted even though you can’t think of anything to say.

You stand in the moment together, facing each other, eyes locked.

A few nights ago, he snapped at you, saying that you don’t know him. But you think you do. Because the way he’s staring right now, almost slack-jawed, looks like he’s looking into a mirror for the first time.

You’re frozen, but if he makes a move, even leans forward an inch, you know you’d close the distance.

He doesn’t, though. So, you step back.

“I need to shower,” you say with a short laugh. “I smell like the sea. Do you wanna have dinner after?”

Rafe nods, offering you a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

You replay the day in your head as you shower. Mostly, you replay the moments you caught Rafe looking at you. You knew you always had love for him in your heart, and over these past few days, you can’t deny that it’s grown stronger.

And you wonder, and hope, that maybe the friends thing isn’t an official title. Because you want more.

You change into fresh clothes in your bedroom and head out into the hallway. When you round the corner, Rafe is coming up the last few steps of the staircase.

“Hi,” you say, approaching him to stand only a foot away for him. You place your hand on the bannister, mostly just to have something to do while your stomach flutters.

He stares down at you, the smell of your shampoo now committed to his memory. He’s been overthinking downstairs, aimlessly striding around, unsure if you feel the pull between you too, but so damn willing to take the risk.

Maybe you’ll shoot him down. But not knowing for sure actually hurts at this point.

“What?” you ask with a smile. “You okay?”

Rafe’s eyes search your face.

“I…” he begins. Rafe steps forward, mainly to see if you tense up and move away. But you don’t. “I can’t stop thinking about…”

“About what?”

“When we kissed the other night.”

The air goes thick, your throat suddenly dry. You remember how intoxicating it was kissing him. How it was just a tactic to chase away his friends. How hard it was accepting that it was all for show.

“I have to know,” he rasps. “Did you feel anything or was it just me?”

Your eyes fall to his lips. You’ve gotten used to things not feeling real by now, but not in a good way. This is like you’re living in a dream.

“It wasn’t just you,” you find the courage to say.

It’s all Rafe needs to hear. He leans forward. His lips brush against yours. Your breath catches.

You’re floating in the feeling of him on the cusp of kissing you. Finally, he closes what little distance remains, capturing your lips softly, gently, alleviating the years of pain you both held for so long in a way words never can.

His mouth is hot, his hands skimming over your hips as your lips weave together. Your heart pounds even faster when you feel his tongue dip into your mouth, running over yours.

You pull him in closer by his shoulders, impatient. Rafe can’t stop his groan when he feels your torso curve against his. He needs this. He needs you. A fire in him has been set alight and he’ll go as far as you’ll let him.

“Can we go to your room?” he mumbles, his nose nudging yours, the weight of his words not missed by either of you.

“Yes,” you whisper. You begin to step backwards, pulling him with you.

You settle on your bed, the hallway light spilling into the room, and lie on your back as he hovers on top of you.

Your kisses are growing deeper and hungrier. Rafe can’t believe this is happening. He feels nothing but fortunate right now, and he hasn’t felt like luck has ever been on his side.

He dips to kiss your neck and you run your hands through his soft hair, realizing your breaths have become short and eager. It feels so right to have him on top of you like this.

Rafe’s lips are soft as he trails kisses over your skin. Your arms hook around his body, drawing him in closer, allowing you to feel him growing under his jeans.

He stills for a moment in case it’s too much for you, but you roll your hips beneath him, and the fact that you want him as badly as he wants you makes sparks erupt through him.

One arm holds him up while the other moves over your side, fingers hooking below the hem of your shirt.

“Is this okay?” he huffs against your neck as he starts to drag his hand up under your shirt. You nod and your skin blooms in goosebumps when he reaches your chest, gently palming you.

He sharply inhales as he feels over your bra, starting to rock against you.

“Am I going too fast?” Rafe whispers. He couldn’t forgive himself if he made you uncomfortable, even for a second.

“No,” you say. “Don’t stop.”

His lips find yours again as he caresses you. Your hand trails down his firm body and when you close your fingers around his length over his jeans, he kisses you harder.

“How’s this?” you ask when you pull back, starting to stroke him slowly.

“Fuck,” Rafe says shakily. “That’s good.”

He captures your lips in his again as you touch each other so tenderly, both your chests heaving.

You feel his hand drag down your stomach and rest on your inner thigh, gently squeezing. The anticipation, the thirst you feel for him is overpowering.

You arch your back, inviting him to touch you where you need him most. When his palm grazes between your legs, the feeling makes him twitch in your hand.

He brushes against you with languid, sweet movements, kissing your lips over and over again. Slowly, his fingers go to the band of your pants.

“Yes,” you whisper before he can even ask.

When Rafe feels you completely, no barrier in the way, it’s like he’s drunk. Moans spill from your mouth as he caresses you, his fingertips moving with gentle glides. Everything about you is perfect, down to the sounds of pleasure you make.

You shift to unbutton his jeans and pull down his zipper, feeling him buck up against you. You finally wrap your hand around him and he groans.

You kiss each other over and over, lips moving eagerly while your hands move slowly. When you start to stroke him faster, he follows your pace.

You’re panting into each other’s mouths now and you finally let go, writhing beneath him as you meet your peak. Rafe is shuddering seconds later, euphoric in the climax you’ve given him.

You’re blissed out, skin covered in sweat as you lie next to him. You feel so weak and tired and happy, resting your head on his shoulder.

You wake up in darkness. You search for him next to you, but he’s gone.

When you go downstairs, you find Rafe sitting in the kitchen. Your eyes meet and you smile, albeit a little nervously about what just happened upstairs, about how you took your friendship to a new level you can’t come back down from.

“Another observation I’ve made,” you start to joke, “you always leave me to wake up alone. How long was I asleep?”

He cracks a smile, but you can see it’s disingenuous.

“Sorry,” he says. “Not long.”

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Rafe responds. The faraway look in his eyes tells you otherwise. You come closer, standing across from where he’s sitting.

“What is it? Tell me.”

“I can’t.” Rafe shakes his head. It’ll reopen a wound in him and cut open a new one in you. He should never tell you.

But your words from earlier ring in his head. You called him honest. And he’s not. He’s a liar. And now he’s derailing.

“Do you…” you begin. “Should we not have done that? Do you regret it?”

“No,” he answers quickly.

“Then, what is it?”

“Don’t…” Rafe looks away. “Don’t push. Please.”

Normally, you wouldn’t. You never have. But you feel painfully vulnerable. What you just shared was so meaningful. At least, to you it was. Why is he closed off again? Why do you deserve this?

“What’d I do?” you ask, your voice starting to tremble.

Rafe stands from his seat, raking his hand through his hair. He was sure he was strong enough to repress this. He’s always been an expert at escaping reality.

But being around you weakens him. He’s starting to panic, starting to feel his blood go hot.

Giving into his physical impulses upstairs made him lose any power he had left. He’s in love with you. He knows that for a fact. But how can you love someone while you also blame them for the worst thing that ever happened to you?

“I… I can’t,” he whispers.

“You can’t what?” you ask. “What’s wrong?”

“I never… I can’t tell you.” Rafe’s breaths get shallower. “I can’t tell you.”

You step in front of him, your hands softly resting on his chest.

“You can tell me anything,” you say.

“We can’t do this,” Rafe mutters.

“What do you mean?” you ask. Your heart breaks all over again. “Don’t go back to treating me like this. Please.”

“We can’t do this,” he repeats.

He’s losing it. He can’t leave the house. He’s here to keep you safe. But he doubts he could even drive right now if he had the opportunity. And he has no substances running through his veins, dampening the pain.

He has nothing.

“Why?” you ask, dread filling you, tears starting to form. “Why? Whatever it is, we can talk about it and fix it.”

“You can’t fix this.”

“Why?”

“Because it already happened.”

“What are you talking about?” Your tone is frantic now.

“It already happened!” he shouts.

Rafe’s stomach twists with self-hatred when he sees you falter, your eyes widening with shock. He startled you. He’s scaring you, just like your ex does.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. His hands find your face, his thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. “Let’s forget it, okay? Let’s have some dinner and forget it.”

But you’re already crying.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“What already happened?” you ask. You’re not sure if it’s just anxiety crawling up your body or a painful sense of intuition. But something tells you that whatever he has to say will shatter you.

“Rafe,” you say. “Please tell me.”

He drops his hands. You’re begging now. He’s infuriated that he couldn’t just keep it together. The loss, the heartbreak, the regret fills him all at once.

“We were…” He looks away. He can’t bear to see your face when he says it. “We were in the car because of you.”

(part eight)

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[not-neverland06]

hi!! Given my obsession for Hugh jackman I am CRAVING for some Leopold X reader (from Kate & Leopold)! Maybe with some little angst but happy ending??

I love your blog!! Have a wonderful day 😽💐💓

Leopold Mountbatten x fem!reader a/n: I don’t know how controversial this is going to be and I don’t care. I could never finish the movie because I hated Meg Ryan in it so much. It’s so odd, I’ve loved her in everything else she’s been in but she made it such a hard watch. Maybe it’s because she reminds me of my grandma in the worst way lol, but I finished it for you anon sorry this was a little rushed Anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies Summary: Your neighbor went back in time and dragged someone back with him. He's irritatingly polite and far too interested in your way of life. What are you meant to do when you fall for a man who was never even supposed to meet you?

“Hello, madam, please I need your help!”

You’re used to crazies, it is New York after all. But they’re not usually shouting at you through your window. Especially not when you’re on the sixth floor. You look away from your coffee and glance towards the fire escape. 

There’s an oddly dressed man with red eyes waving at you through the dirty glass. You offer him a tentative wave back and he nods aggressively. “Yes, hello, I need your assistance.”

“Um,” you shake your head, “Sorry, I don’t have any drugs dude.”

“No,” he places his hands pathetically on the glass and shakes his head. “Please, I have been kidnapped.” Finally, you take a step closer to him. You can tell now that his eyes aren’t reddened from any medicinal fun, he probably got pepper sprayed. 

Your friend did it to you once when you tried to surprise her on her birthday and you’ll never forget just how awful you looked afterwards. You can see him a bit more clearly now. Whatever odd costume he’s got on, it looks good. Genuine and clean. 

Not like most of the street performers you see in Times Square. Besides, he doesn’t have that maddened look in his eye that makes you worry he’s going to come inside and kill you. Tentatively, you open the window. 

He’s leaping through in a second and you jump back with a yelp. He turns towards you and his eyes widen before he quickly turns away. “My good lady, where are your pants?”

“Uh,” you glance down at the oversized shirt you’re wearing and the tiny shorts underneath. Admittedly, it’s a little skimpy, but you’re not walking around naked. You’ve heard of committing to the bit, but this is a bit much. “On,” you tell him, walking around him and trying to stand close to the phone. 

“Ma’am-” He’s cut off as someone slams their fist on your front door. You keep a weary eye on the man while you unlock your door. 

“Hey,” Stuart smiles at you. His eyes drift slightly past your shoulder and he goes barging into your apartment. “Leopold! What did I say?”

You huff and glare at Stuart’s frantic back. “This is yours?” Stuart nods and rushes Leopold out the door. You don’t miss the pleading, while slightly scandalized, look he sends you. 

You slam the door closed behind them, shaking your head and going back to your morning paper. You doubt you’ll be seeing him around again. 

You know, it’s just your luck that your upstairs neighbor is a scientist, one who happens to dabble in the art of time travel. And it’s just your luck that he had to fall down a damn elevator shaft. 

Now, according to him, you have to care for someone from a different century so he can make it back to his time portal in, well, in time. This is fucking ridiculous. “I’m going to kill you, Stuart.”

“Look, they’re going to take my phone but he really cannot-”

It goes silent on the other end. You shout his name a few times but hear nothing in response. You assume the hospital staff has finally gotten sick of his shenanigans and has taken his phone. You slam your handset down with a huff and look towards the living room. Leopold hasn’t sat down since you walked in and it’s unsettling. 

“So,” you start and his attention snaps towards you. “1876, huh?”

He nods and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “Oh, this is insane. This is insane,” you mutter to yourself, walking towards Stuart’s door. Leopold gives you a concerned look before quickly following after you. There’s a part of you, and you hate that part, that actually believes some of this. 

Stuart is a brilliant, though flawed, scientist. You don’t doubt that he might have actually unlocked the secret to traveling back to the past, but it’s such an insane idea to try and wrap your head around. 

“Come on, we’re leaving.” You know that Stuart doesn’t want him out of the house. Tough. You’re not going to just stay inside and wait until he can supposedly go back to the past. You don’t give Leopold any time to process your answer, already out the door and heading towards the stairs. 

“You know,” he starts as he catches up to you. “You are quite rude.” Your first instinct is to snap back at him. But you take a breath and stop yourself. 

You’re desensitized, ridiculously used to just how awful New Yorkers can be to each other. And whether this man is truly from the past or not is up for debate. But he is polite and earnest, and you have no reason to be a bitch to him. 

“I’m,” the words are hard to come by but you force them out anyway, “I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely surprised by the apology and it only makes you feel worse. “This is just an insane idea to try and grasp.”

He chuckles softly, smiling as he glances down at his feet. “Yes, how do you think I feel?”

You’re sure it’s not his intention, but you only feel like more of an ass. If this is hard for you, whatever he's going through is a hundred times worse. You weren’t forcefully ripped out of your own time and shoved into another you don’t understand. He’s still trying to comprehend the television.

Though, you’re sure being a scientist has helped him in marginally understanding how all of this is possible. “How do you like the future?” It sounds awkward and stiff, but you haven’t had to talk to anyone in a really long time. 

Your interactions are pretty limited at the book shop considering no one ever comes in. They all order online nowadays and all you really have to worry about is organizing shelves. You’re embarrassingly rusty when it comes to conversing. 

And his propensity towards eloquence only makes you feel worse. “I must admit, some of your inventions have been quite fascinating. I’m especially fond of your showers.”

Your face scrunches slightly at the mention of hygiene and you nod, “I bet.” Before either of you can attempt to salvage this horrible attempt at conversation your phone starts ringing. “Hold on one second,” you tell him. You walk a few feet away from him but you can still feel his eyes boring into your back as you move away. 

“Hello?”

There’s a frantic shout of your name down the line and then the distinct jingling of keys. “I need you to cover the shop. Marcy just went into labor and I’ve got to go!” Paul doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he hangs up. 

Your jaw gapes and you stare down at your phone with shock. You know Paul and his wife had been expecting, but had it really already been nine months? Has your life become so monotonous and dull that nine months doesn’t even register for you?

It’s a depressing thought. One you’d rather not linger on. “What was that?”

You scream, though the people passing by don’t pay you any mind, and jump away from Leopold. “Jesus, where the hell did you come from?”

Leopold flinches away from you and his face is just as aghast as yours. “Good heavens, what is the matter with you? Do you respond to anything as a sensible woman might?”

“I resent that.” You tell him bitterly. Though, he does make a good point. You’ve been on edge constantly. You always seem to be more anxious than you are happy. It’s not a good state to perpetually exist in. “I need to go into work.”

You don’t want to outright say that he needs to go back to the apartment. It feels a little mean, but you’re hoping he’ll catch onto your tone of voice. 

His entire demeanor perks up and he smiles at you. “Wonderful, I am dreadfully curious as to what you do.”

You open your mouth to correct him, let him know he’s not coming. But he’s staring at you with such hopeful eyes that you cannot find it in yourself to turn him down. He seems so excited, you’re sure he won’t be when he gets to your cluttered little bookshop. You let out a weary sigh, “Fine. Okay.”

You walk towards the curb, hoping to hail a cab. But Leopold’s hand gently wraps around your elbow and tugs you in the opposite direction. Your eyes widen in response to his boldness. You thought touching a woman he wasn’t courting would cause someone like him to combust. Seems he didn’t mind breaking the rules sometimes. 

You make a mental note of that for later. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the information, but you find it intriguing. Maybe the modern world was rubbing off on him more than he’d like to admit. 

“We should take this,” he stops you in front of a horse-drawn carriage and you immediately begin to shake your head. 

“No, Leopold, these are just tourist traps-”

He doesn’t let you finish, opening the carriage’s door and gently nudging you inside. “Nonsense! This is far more enjoyable than those yellow monstrosities.”

“Taxi,” you correct. You turn towards the carriage driver and give him directions to your bookshop. “Ink and Tea on Fifth.” He nods and the carriage rolls forward with a lurch. You grip the cushioned seats and pray you don’t get motion sickness. 

“Ink and Tea?” Leopold inquires. “Are you a journalist?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, nothing so fancy. I just help take care of an old bookshop. They were supposed to extend the shop when it first opened. They were going to build a space for people to get pastries or drink tea, but it never happened and the owner was too lazy to change the name.”

It feels a little humiliating to be talking about your minimum-wage job to a renowned scientist. He’s invented or is going to, elevators. He doesn’t care about your stupid shop. But he doesn’t look particularly judgy of you. If anything he seems to be endeared to you the more you talk. 

Normally, you’re oblivious to these sorts of things. But it’s nearly impossible for him to hide. He’s not shy with his attraction, never taking his eyes off of you and hanging onto your every word. You’re not used to such outward attention. 

You look out of the carriage, pretending to take in views you’ve already seen a thousand times. “This city is incredible,” he wonders aloud. His awe is palpable. 

Your nose wrinkles and you shrug. “It’s dirty and the people are intolerable.”

“Must you always be so pessimistic?” You snap your mouth shut and feel embarrassment creeping around you. You’ve never had someone point out when you’re being negative, but he has a point. 

You used to view the city through the same rose-colored glasses. Something’s broken inside you in recent years that has just taken the joy out of life. Everything is grey to you now, until Leopold, nothing spectacular has ever really happened to you. 

The carriage comes to a stop outside the shop before you can respond to him. You want to deny what he says, but you can’t. Your attitude is almost always unnecessary. You think sometimes you might just be trying to see if everyone feels as miserable as you do or if there’s just something wrong with you. 

“Come on,” you tell him, getting out and paying the driver. He wanders towards the shop, eyeing the displays in the window curiously. 

“These are wonderful,” he tells you, pointing to the way you’d made the books look like they’re floating above the shelves. It was just some silly little thing you’d tried to get more people in the shop. It’d worked for about a month. 

“I did that,” you unlock the door to the shop and open it for him. But he doesn’t walk in immediately, instead, he lingers in the doorway. He offers you a soft smile and you can’t help but return it. 

“You’re more creative than you give yourself credit for.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him walk inside. He keeps making these oddly astute observations about you and it’s throwing you off your game. You barely know this man and you’ve always been good at keeping yourself aloof and vague. Yet, he seems to read you like you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

“Feel free to…” he’s already made himself comfortable somewhere in the back and you trail off. “Look around,” you finish lamely. His form is lost somewhere in stacks of books and cluttered shelves. 

You know most of the classics and history books are kept towards the back. You wonder if he’s reminiscing or getting a headstart before he gets back to his time. You smile at the thought and walk behind the counter, sitting on the stool and preparing to finish off the rest of the day.

Leopold is still somewhere lost to you an hour later. Occasionally you’ll hear a page flip or the clatter of a book being reshelved, but there are no other signs of life. Not until the bell above the door rings. 

“Clark,” you smile, sitting up straighter as your friend walks through the door. “What’re you doing here?”

He gives you a crooked grin and shrugs. Just over his shoulder, you can see Leopold’s head pop over a shelf, he looks between you both, eyes narrowing with disdain. “Paul told me you’d be here, figured you might want some company.”

“Actually-” you start, but another voice cuts you off. 

“Leopold Mountbatten,” he comes around the corner, hand outstretched as he comes in between you and Clark. “And who might you be?”

Your brows furrow in confusion at the interaction. Leopold seems oddly hostile and Clark looks strangely caught off guard. “Um, Clark. Nice to meet you, man.” He shakes Leopold’s hand but his grip is weak and it only lasts for one awkward half-second. 

It’s uncomfortable to watch them try and interact and it only gets worse when they turn towards you. Clearly, they want you to tell them who the hell the other guy is. But you feel like that might just make the situation worse. 

Besides, you were pretty content with it just being you and Leopold, you don’t need Clark coming in here and riling things up. “You know, Clark, I’m set here. You can just go home.” Your tone leaves no room for argument but you know he wants to. 

“Alright, I’ll just call you later, I guess.” He throws one last skeptical look at Leopold before finally slinking back out of the shop. 

“Neither of you should be alone without a chaperone present.” Leopold bluntly scolds you without even waiting a second before Clark is gone. It catches you off guard and you scoff. 

You motion between the two of you, “We don’t have a chaperone.” 

Leopold shrugs, “Yes, well, I’m not courting you.” It shouldn’t, because he’s right, but that stings. He is attractive, surprisingly so. You have this odd belief that anyone from his century had to be at least a little ugly. But he’s near perfect. 

Hearing him tell you so bluntly that you’re not courting hurts a little. Though, you can’t blame him. You must be dramatically different than the women he’s used to. From your manners to how you dress, you’re practically an alien. 

You stand up from behind the counter and walk towards the cart of books that need to be shelved. “Clark is a friend. Nothing more.” You’ve never once been romantically interested in your friend. He’s attractive, but he’s not really your type.

Apparently, British men from the nineteenth century are. Which does not bode well for your romantic prospects once Leopold is back home. “It is plain for anyone to see how he wants you. Don’t let yourself be blinded by naivete.”

“Naivete?” you scoff and turn around to glare at him. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me, alright? I’m not some maiden in a frilly dress who needs a chaperone.” You can see that your words affect him. He looks a little taken aback by your anger and so are you. 

It’s misplaced. You’re not mad at him, just mad that you even like him. “Just go read or something, Leopold.” You dismiss him more rudely than necessary and hide yourself behind a few shelves. The rest of your workday is spent in a tense silence that makes your stomach churn. 

You’re nearly ready for bed when something slips under your door with a slight whoosh. You turn towards it, frowning when you see a little envelope with a wax seal on the ground. You pick it up and let your finger slip under the paper, opening it to find a letter with your name on it inside. 

The handwriting is impeccable, with a gracefulness to it that you’ve never seen before. You don’t have to read for very long to know who it's from. Leopold writes poetry about the color of your eyes and the way your lips curl when you smile. And then he ends it with a vague, nearly ominous, invitation to dinner. 

You can’t help but smile to yourself, changing out of your pajamas and slipping into something a little nicer. A few minutes later you’re climbing out your window and taking the stairs up the fire escape to the roof. 

You don’t believe your ears at first, thinking the music must be coming from another apartment. But when you make it up to the roof there’s a violin player there waiting for you. He smiles happily at you as you approach. 

You spin in a slow circle, taking in the sheer amount of flowers littered around the roof. You don’t know how he managed to afford all of this. He transformed the barren and empty rooftop into your own little paradise. Candles lit and a live musician playing for you. 

You’ve never had anyone do something like this for you, ever. It’s a little hard to accept that someone would be willing to put this much effort in for you. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would come.”

You turn around and Leopold is waiting behind you, that familiar smile playing on his lips. You aren’t aware of the grin forming on your face in response. You don’t have much control over that when you’re with him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He looks like he wants to respond but at the last moment thinks better of it. He instead pulls your chair out for you, helping you into your seat. “This is nice,” that feels too underwhelming a word for such an incredible gesture. 

You sigh and frown as you try and find the right words. You don’t notice him sitting down across from you. You only look up when you feel him placing his hand on your own. “It’s alright,” he assures you. 

It’s still so odd how he can know you so well after such little time. “This is incredible,” you tell him, undeterred by his attempts to soothe you. “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

He looks like he takes personal offense to that and it makes you laugh. “You deserve far more than this. Sadly, it seems Stuart’s pockets do have limits and I’m afraid I would have put him into debt if I’d gone any further.”

You have the perfect mental image of Stuart coming back from the hospital only to find his science project has robbed him. It makes you laugh and you squeeze his hand once before drawing it back into your lap. He lets his touch linger on you for a long moment, seemingly reluctant to pull away. 

“No,” you tell him, “this is perfect.” 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Conversation mostly drifting toward what his life was like as a duke. You don’t have much to say about your own life. It’s been incredibly normal and you’re a little sad to find that you don’t have one good thing to share with him. 

Nothing comes to the front of your mind. 

Inevitably, you drift into the topic you’d both been so adamantly avoiding. “Has Stuart said when you’d need to return?”

Leopold’s grip on the fork tightens and for a moment he refuses to meet your eye. “Monday, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen and you feel something burning at the back of your throat. Monday, the same Monday that’s two days away. 

“Dance with me,” the suddenness of the demand catchers you so off guard that you forget the tears. He stands, holding out his hand to you. You almost say no, you can’t remember the last time you danced and you doubt it’s going to be pretty. 

But he whispers your name and something about his tone tells you to take the chance while you have it. You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet and dance the night away. 

Instead, he holds you close and you sway together. Like moving even an inch away from each other would hurt. “You could come with me,” he tells you. And you know immediately what he’s talking about. 

You also know it could never happen. Going to the nineteenth century is insane. Even considering it should be enough to have you sent to a psych ward somewhere. Especially not for a man you’ve known for less than a month. 

You try and tell him that you can’t, but he stops you. “I know, a preposterous idea. I just wanted to think about it.” You look up at him and find that you can’t take that away from him. There’s nothing wrong with imagining what it could be like with him. Even when you know it can never happen. 

You dance like that for a little while longer, swaying against each other while the violin plays in the background. He whispers your name and when you gaze up at him this time, there’s a certain look in his eye that you know is reflected in your own. 

He dips down, lips caressing yours gently before he’s pushing more firmly against your own. The world stops. Cliche, you’re aware. For the first time in years, though, you’re alive. You feel something other than the dull monotony of life. You feel excited and terrified all at once. Because you know you can never have this feeling again. 

You will never meet another man like Leopold who ignites this spark of life and passion within you. Never has a man been able to make you doubt every decision you’ve ever made with just a kiss, but here he is. 

Your arms lift like you might try and draw him in closer. His hands come up, taking yours in his gentle hold and squeezing. He pulls away from you and reality comes crashing back down. You’re not in love, you can’t be. You’ve only just met him a few days ago. 

Yet, here you are, wondering if you might actually want to leave everything behind to be with him like the great romances authors write about. He smiles at you and there’s a bittersweetness to it, a final farewell that you know will break whatever is left of your heart. 

He lifts your knuckles to his lips, pressing his lips against them like he never wants to part. “Goodnight,” he whispers your name and backs away from you. You watch him go, watch him leave, unable to muster up any words for him. 

You can’t think of anything that would ease this gnawing ache inside of you. Nothing to soothe the pain for either of you. You let him go because you know if you asked him to stay he would. And how selfish of you would it be to let history unravel simply because you fell in love? 

Monday. It is Monday. You’ve been coming to terms with that all weekend. You don't want to think about the fact that Leopold will be gone tonight. Your time together was so brief but you feel like you’re never going to get over losing him. 

Before the night was over on Sunday, a note was slipped under your door. This handwriting was messy, it made you think someone other than Leopold had written it down, but you don’t know who it could have been. 

It was a date and time, jump off the Brooklyn Bridge at this time on Monday night. Only an idiot would jump off a bridge because of an ominous note slipped under her door. But you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of it, not since you first picked it up. 

Leopold had invited you to go with him. And while you might not have said no, the insinuation was clear. Your eyes dart to your clock. If you left now, you could still make it in time. What an absolutely ridiculous thought. 

So, why are you running out the door without locking it? Why do you not care who slips into your home now? There’s this sense of finality within you that lets you know you’re never going to see that place again and that’s okay. 

You never truly felt comfortable in your life. You always thought a part of yourself was missing. Or that you were always running late for something. You think you understand what you were feeling now. 

The thing you’ve been searching for your whole life wasn’t halfway across the world, a hundred thousand miles from you. He was on the wrong side of time, or you were, at least. 

You manage to snag a taxi to get to the bridge but there’s a traffic jam. You’re forced to jump out of the car and run through the different lanes of blocked traffic. People shout at you. Your cab driver screaming after you about your fare. You don’t care, the only thing you can think about is the note crumpled in your hands and the clock counting down how long you have to jump. 

You’ll either be on the news tomorrow as an unfortunate suicide. An idiot who accidentally threw herself off the wrong side of the bridge. Or, you’ll see Leopold again. 

You reach the ledge and you can’t hesitate. If you do, you won’t jump in time. You close your eyes, holding your breath like you’re jumping into your neighbor’s pool. Air rushes around you, whipping at your hair and skin violently. 

It’s not until you hear someone shouting down at you that you realize you’re not dead. You’re lying in the middle of a dirt road, a group of people staring down at you with concern in their eyes. 

You only have to take in the clothes they’re wearing to know you’ve made it. Before they can react you’re leaping to your feet and running off. You know you’re near the Brooklyn Bridge, or where it’s supposed to be at least. You know enough about the area to remember where Leopold’s house is supposed to be. 

You’re covered in sweat and red mud. The people you pass by in the streets hide behind their hands and whisper about you. You’re not making a good impression on your future neighbors, that’s for sure. But, honestly, all you care about is making it back to him. 

You see people congregating outside his uncle’s home. You know there’s a party inside, that he’s supposed to be announcing who his wife will be. You barrel through the people outside, shoving through the crowd and running up the steps of the house. 

You can hear Leopold’s voice as you run, “The woman I’m going to take as my wife is-”

There’s a loud gasp as you come panting into the room. You can’t catch your breath long enough to speak but it doesn’t matter. The crowd is parting around you and Leopold is smiling down at you. He says your name and there’s nothing else that matters about the world around you. Not when you finally found each other. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Kate & Leopold, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[charlotteking23]

Can I request any headcanon or Oneshot of Batmom calling the Batfamily by their names? Batmom always calls them nicknames (sweetie, babybird or somenthing), so the Battys think she's upset.

Sorry if it's written wrong or it is not understood!! My main language is not English 😓😓

sure I would love to.

NICKNAMES

Early in the morning, Batmom lies there in her bed staring at the wall. At 6 in the morning, no one was awake except for the infamous Batman sitting next to her.

"Honey, what's wrong why are you up?" To Bruce, it was very unusual to see her up early for she had a habit of sleeping till 10 in the morning.

"Nothing Bruce", and Batmom stood up from her bed and left for the bathroom.

"SHIT, SHIT! what did I do?"

that's all he could think because she NEVER called him Bruce unless she was upset at him. He thinks of all the things he had done the latest skipping a gala and lying to her about an emergency when he was really hanging out with Superman and Wonderwomen.

Batmom came out of the bathroom and left towards the kitchen. There Tim sat at the table with a huge cup of coffee in his hand. He expected a hi or hello but nothing just an awkward silence.

"Hey Mom", but she grunted and said, "hi Tim."

OH MY GOSH, Tim was in complete panic, forgetting about his coffee. She always calls me Timmy, Fuck what did he do?

Finally, Dick comes and sees Tim in complete panic. "What's wrong with you?"

All Tim does is point. To Dick's shock, he points at his mother. Dick thought nothing of it and greeted his mom and gave her a hug like every morning. But to his surprise, His mom didn't greet him back nor return the hug.

"Mama, are you okay? I am fine Dick"

What where's my nickname. Dick looks at Tim and Tim just looks completely horrified. He sees his mom leave and goes back upstairs.

"Alright, Tim fess up what did you do?" said dick. "Me this could have been easily you, Maybe Mom found out about you breaking her very expensive vase," Tim said defending himself. "Well, it's not like you are innocent, Mom probably found out that you're the one who's been finishing all her expensive French coffee," Dick said as a comeback.

"Alright Dickhead, why is mom so angry?" Jason comes walking behind him, "I have no clue she's been acting strange all morning AND SHE DIDN'T CALL ME BY MY NICKNAME," Dick says wiping his tears.

jason says, "Huh same, she usually calls me Baby Bird but she just stood there staring at me". "Maybe, Jason, she found out how you snook out to patrol even though you are grounded," Tim says. Jason says in response, probably... "WAIT how did you know about that Tim. I Know everything... you have cameras around the house don't you Tim," Dick said. "Maybe, Idk", Tim said with an evil grin.

"Okay, guys come on let's go upstairs and apologize to whatever we did," Dick said. "Fine Dickh"-, Jason said but was interrupted... AHHHHHHHHH

"what the hell! I think my eardrum exploded," said Tim

"come on guys, someone could be in trouble," Dick said. "Okay, dickhead calm down," Jason says.

"Damian what's wrong, Ummi said Damian instead of Dami. What did you idiots do this time?"

"Hold on demon spawn we didn't do anything let's ask Dad," Tim suggested.

"Dad, what's happening with mom?" Dick says

"I don't know Dick your mother has been acting weird since this morning and she even woke up early like 6 in the morning early." [GASP], Bruce answers.

"Damn, what the hell did we do?" Damian says.

"shut up demon spawn, I am trying to think," Jason continues.

"Hi, kids... MOM/UMMI!!," Batmom says out of nowhere.

"Kids, I am very disappointed in you," Batmom continues

"But mom we don't even know what we did wrong," dick said, and collectively everyone said yeah.

"Sweethearts, why is there a FUCKING COW on my lawn," Batmom yelled out.

"OHHHHHHHH, yeah Mom we all decided to get a cow," Dick answered truthfully. "Shhhhh dickhead don't get me involved," Jason says slapping Dick behind his head

"Well, I am so glad you told me what happened, so here you go," Batmom says while handing everyone a paper.

"What's this Honey?" Bruce said while taking the paper in his hand

"well, that's the list of chores and you all are grounded for a month!!!" Batmom said yelling.

"WAIT, DOES THAT MEAN I AM GROUNDED FOR TWO MONTHS STRAIGHT", Jason shouted in fear.

"No, Babybird, you all are grounded for two more months since you all exposed yourself when trying to figure out why I was upset with you guys", Batmom said with her hands on her hips.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!," Jason shouted.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you're desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

Adrenaline buzzes in your ears and sears through your veins. You shouldn’t be here. Yet this place is no more treacherous than your home. Thing’s can’t get much worse so you may as well try to make them better. 

Or maybe you’re so desperate for it to end, that you don’t care how. 

You stand before the two men in their dark suits. They mutter as if you can’t hear them, “Warren’s girl.” 

“One of them,” the other intones. 

“Boss said not to bother.” 

You sway, your hands twined up behind your back. You expect to be turned away but you’re not ready for it. You chew the tip of your tongue. 

“I can wait,” you say. 

The don’t acknowledge you. They turn to block you out with their shoulders and lower their voices. One glances over his shoulder at you, Walker? Or something. 

“Your daddy send you?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You should probably lie but you’re no good at that. The throbbing in your swollen lip assures you of that. 

“So why should we let you in to see the boss? You out here at midnight looking like a tramp,” he challenges as he faces you again. 

“Hey, she looks like she’s had it bad enough. Don’t be a dick,” the other man reproaches. “Look, sweetheart,” he steps forward. “Man’s busy. With important business. Whatever you’re looking for, ask your daddy.” 

You could sob. Your father has no idea you’re there. If he did... if he knew why... 

Your shoulders slump and you hang your head in defeat. Why did you think this would work? It’s a fantasy. That same escapist wish you make every night when you cry yourself to sleep. 

You close your eyes and see Adrienne’s teary-eyes and Kitty’s helpless expression. You can’t let your sisters down. You can’t stand to see them suffer any longer. You can take it all, but it’s seeing him raise his hand to them that guts you. 

“I need to see him,” you raise your head. “I can wait.” 

You say you can but if your father realises you’re gone, if he finds out where you’ve gone, or even manages to guess why... 

Walker sighs. He elbows the other man. “Go tell him so can come back and tell her to scram on his orders.” 

The other man returns a dark look but goes inside. You hug yourself and shiver in the night air. You have only your quarter-zip sweater and a pair of silky pajama pants. You’re not surprised the men can barely keep from laughing at you. 

You wait. It takes longer than you expect. If anything, you would think they would only pretend to tell the boss. That’s what they all do. They lie. They ignore you. They just don’t care. So why are you here? Why would this go any other way? 

Before you can wave the white flag, the door opens. 

“In,” the man holds the door as he steps out.  

You flinch and Walker sneers at his partner in confusion. You’re just as surprised. The other man huffs. 

“Well, he said you got five minutes, so get.” 

You waver on your feet then scurry forward. You step inside the dark brick building, another man waiting just inside. He’s silent as he points you down the hall. He directs you with the terse gestures; upstairs, to the left, around another corner.  

You stop before a door with another duo standing vigil by the door posts. The left one knocks, tilts his head to listen, the opens it. You’re pointed inside.  

Your nerves flurry and wrap you up in a billowing storm. What are you doing? That question doesn’t matter. It’s too late. 

You drag your feet inside. The door slams at your back. The room is dim, lit only by a lamp with a glass shade on the large desk across from you. Behind that, sit a man. The man. Bucky Barnes. The boss. The king. 

He sits with his elbow bent over the armrest of his chair. He watches you calmly. You stand in silence by the door. He beckons you closer with two fingers. 

“Can’t see you back there, doll.” He says. 

You hold your breath and come forward. You gulp as you stop within a foot of the carved desk. Your eyes scour the vintage print of the wallpaper and the wooden paneling. This place is steeped in history. 

He raises his hand, cradling his face as he brings to fingers to his lips. He watches you patiently. Waiting. You stare back at him. You’ve never seen him this close. You don’t even know if your father has. 

“Why are you here?” He asks at last. 

Your eyes narrow on the gold sheen on his pinky. It’s the only safe place to look. You feel like you’ll melt in the blaze of his oceanic irises. You exhale. 

“I need someone dead.” 

He doesn’t answer. Your words dangle in the air as he mulls them. You purse your lips and wince at the pain in the split along the swollen flesh. 

“A man. The one who did that to you?” He sits up straight and points at you. You follow the glint of his ring. You nod. “Low life. Let me guess, daddy doesn’t know you been sneaking around.” 

You shake your head, “he doesn’t know I’m here. Or that I’m asking.” You take another breath as your eyes water. You bring your hand up to your cheek as it pulses. Your father’s knuckles left a nasty welt. “Because it’s him. He’s the one who did this. And I want him dead.” 

He scoffs, more amused than disbelieving. 

“Warren’s a soldier of mine. You're asking me to off him?” 

“I’m begging,” you finally make yourself look him in the eye. His is formidable man. Dark hair, dark beard, a touch of grey here and there. Even at this hour, he wears a nice suit and sits with authority. “Please, my sisters--” 

“And how are you and your sisters going to make up for his cut. He brings in money. What can you give me?” 

“You can take everything. We just want to be free,” you say. 

He clucks, “what he has now is nothing compared to a lifetime of what he can get.” 

You lower your lashes. That’s it. At least he didn’t laugh because you almost did when you said it out loud. Your father isn’t going to die. He’s so rancid, even death doesn’t want him. He’s not human, he’s a curse. And this man you’re asking for mercy, he’s the same kind. 

“Sorry for the bother,” you eke out. “I was mistaken.” 

“So you were,” he agrees. “Go home. Put some ice on it.” 

It’s like another punch in the face. You nod, “thank you, sir.” 

“You can go,” he dismisses. 

“Yes, sir.” You put your head down and drag your foot back. 

“Ah,” he tuts. 

Your eyes flick up. He extends his hand across the desk. Right. He is still who he is. You step closer as he holds his hand steady. You bow down and kiss the sigil on his ring. An outdated and demeaning gesture. 

Before you can stand straight, his large hand frames your chin. He pushes your head up as your eyes round. You stare at him as his gaze drifts down to your neck. The bruises by the zipper of your sweater tingle. 

“You were never here,” he lets you go. 

“Understood,” you retreat, “sorry again for wasting your time.” 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for coming to dinner with my ex and his new GF uninvited?

This situation is long and messy, so I'll try to include the relevant info only. I (F32) broke up with my long time partner (M33) right before COVID hit. We stayed in the same house during lockdown and continued to live together after lockdown was lifted, because we generally get along and we had a child (F11) to raise together. Over the last 3 years we've been roommates and co-parents and that's it.

One day he was supposed to take our daughter to buy new school clothes, and she came back 10 minutes later in tears. She said they were on their way to the store when his new GF called, and he drove her back home and dropped her off so he could go spend time with her. He even asked our daughter to lie to me for him, but she was tired of covering for him (implying she'd been lying for him for a while now).

When he got home we had a massive argument. I didn't care if he dated other girls, I cared that for some reason he thought he had to sneak around, and it made him act like a jerk to me and our daughter. I told him if he had been a man about this new girl and just introduced me to her then maybe we could have all been friends, but instead he had to act like a horny teenager. It ended with him moving out to live with his parents.

A couple days later he called and apologized. He said he hoped it wasn't too late for him to do things right, and he hopes we can all be friends. I was hopeful that we could finally co-parent in peace for the sake of our child.

This is where I may be TA: I have always been close with my ex's parents, to the point where even after we broke up I would be invited over regularly for dinner. They said even if I wasn't their son's partner I'm still their grandchild's mother, and that makes me family.

So one day when my daughter texts me while at my ex's parent's house and invites me to dinner because they're having my favorite meal, I don't think twice about coming over even though my ex and his GF I've never met now live there. I figured everyone had to be okay with it, since my daughter was inviting me.

I end up having dinner with my ex's parents and daughter, but my ex only comes upstairs to grab two plates of food and goes back downstairs. I ask my ex's mom why and she says his GF doesn't feel well today. Whatever, I think. She's just sick and I'll meet her another day. I have a perfectly pleasant dinner with my ex in-laws, help clean up, and make a promise to bring them a coconut cake (ex father-in-law's favorite) and take my daughter home.

Later my ex blows up my phone with texts and calls, saying it was so weird and rude that I came over for dinner uninvited. That I made his new GF uncomfortable, and like she wasn't welcome there. And that I caused trouble in their relationship because she assumes we must still be in love for me to come over and see his parents out of the blue like that, because "exes don't do that. it's creepy."

I had a talk with my daughter and asked her calmly if she had asked everyone else if it was ok if I come over before she texted me, and she sheepishly said she didn't know she had to ask since it had never been a problem before. (I didn't tell her about her dad's meltdown at me, or tell her dad that she's the one who invited me. She's a child and shouldn't be involved)

Instead I just told him I'm sorry me dropping by made things awkward, but I thought he wanted us all to be friends from now on and I figured this was a good place to start being friends. He said there was no way she'd want to be my friend now that I made her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

It wasn't my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, but I admit I'd be perturbed if he brought this woman into MY home and I had not even been warned first. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- I’m Not Doing That Again

“Every woman has one” Polly argues while flitting around YN and Tommys shared bedroom getting everything ready for when YN go into labour

“I had one with Charlie, I’m not doing that again. If I shit then so be it” YN cross her arms stubbornly over her large stomach “tell her Ada”

“I’m not involved in this conversation” Ada holds her hands up shaking her head. YN looks over to Esme who’s smiling

“Polly I don’t want an enema”

“Love it stops infection”

“It’s embarrassing that’s what it is, having your husbands aunt shave you then stick a tube in your arse to make you shit. I’d rather just shit the bed while pushing. Ada didn’t have one with Karl”

“He didn’t leave us with much choice” Polly mutters “right I’ll be back later with supper. Please try and relax”

“See you later” Ada gives her sister in law a weak smile before leaving. Esme walks over to her with a mischievous look

“Where has she put the enema kit?”

“Over there” YN frowns pointing towards the box on top of the dresser “why?”

“Well it would be a shame if it went missing wouldn’t it?”

“She will know it was one of us. Thanks though”

“Not if the kids run wild in the house” Esme winks at YN and then takes the enema kit with her.

“I’M GONNA CHOP HIS DICK OFF AFTER THIS!” Tommy hears his wife scream while she’s upstairs in their room giving birth

“Thats what you said last time now where’s the enema kit? I put it up here” Polly stands with her hands on her hips looking at the dresser. She then turns to YN lying on the bed with Esme holding her hand “YN where have you hidden it?”

“I haven’t” not a lie, but YN knows where Esme has hidden the tube

“Well I suppose we will have to do this the old fashioned way, we just need to find….”

“No please Polly, i don’t want one, please I’m begging you”

“Pol look she’s gonna want to start pushing soon, let’s just leave it”

“Fine” YN finally relaxes looking over at Esme.

Downstairs Tommy paces the living room with a whiskey in hand. Arthur, John, Finn and Micheal all sit with their own drinks on the large sofa. All that can be heard is the shouting of profanities and cursing Tommys name

“Bloody hell, she’s a true Shelby’s ain’t she Tom” Arthur chuckles

“Where’s Charlie?” Finn asks

“YN’s mums” Tommy replies still pacing around, then stops when he hears feet running down the stairs. Ada runs past her brothers and cousin and goes straight into the kitchen to get some more warm water

“Are they here yet?” Micheal asks

“D’you think I’d been here running around if they were”

“THOMAS FUCKING SHELBY YOU BETTER RUN ONCE THIS CHILDS OUT OF ME” YN Shelby, the only person Tommy is afraid off. This makes the Shelby’s all chuckle, but Tommys pacing continues

“Will you sit the fuck down? You know YN will kill ya if you wear out her carpet” John says before drinking the rest of his drink. Tommy finally sits down on the sofa as Ada makes her way back upstairs with the water.

After hours of pacing and drinking, the screams go quiet, that is until the cries of a baby can be heard. Tommy lifts his head up as John slaps him on the shoulder

“Congratulations brother”

“Tommy” Polly says walking down the stairs “come meet your daughter” in an instant Tommy is up and making his was to his and YN’s bedroom.

Walking in he sees Esme and Ada tidying up and putting some sheets in a bucket. His wife sat up in bed with a baby in her arms suckling on her breast

“No more Tommy. I’m not doing that again”

“Whatever you want, as long as you and our kids are happy I don’t care if we don’t have anymore” Tommy walks over and places a kiss on his wife’s head.