#and i really get that like i don't know how he moves on from that i don't know if it's possible

[lostfracturess]

words you couldn't hear — satoru gojo

satoru's been hopelessly in love with you for years, but can only confess when you can't hear him. but someday—maybe someday soon—he'll tell you for real.

"How do these look?" you ask, slipping on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and striking a pose. "Be honest."

Satoru, who's been trailing behind you in the electronics store for the past hour without complaining like the best friend he's always been, looks up from the speaker he's been fiddling with. "You look good in anything."

"No, for real." You turn to check your reflection in a nearby screen. "Do they make my head look bigger? I feel like they make my head look bigger."

He snorts, reaching over to adjust the headband. His fingers brush against your temple, and you try not to think about how many times those same hands have absentmindedly played with your hair during movie nights, or how he still unconsciously reaches for you whenever he laughs too hard, just like he did when you were kids.

"That's what you're concerned about? The size of your head?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Your head is perfectly normal-sized," he assures you, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long as he fixes the fit. "Though I suppose all that overthinking has to go somewhere—"

You shoot him a look, but there's no heat behind it. Fifteen years of friendship has made you immune to his teasing — well, mostly immune.

You're not quite immune to the way your pulse quickens when he's standing this close, or how he still smells like that same cologne he's worn since high school, the one you helped him pick out for his first date with someone else while ignoring the weird ache in your chest.

"I really need good ones for studying," you say, checking the price tag. "My roommate talks way too much."

Satoru winces at the price. "Expensive. But they're supposedly the best."

"Worth every penny if they can block out her ramblings." You adjust the fit, immediately noticing how they muffle the noise of the shop. "Oh wow, these are actually incredible. Say something so I can test them properly."

"What should I say?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Anything. Just need to check if they work."

His expression shifts then, melting into something tender as his lips move. Even though you can't hear the words, something about the gentle way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter strangely in your chest.

"These are perfect!" you say, pulling them off, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. "I couldn't hear you at all. What did you say?"

Satoru leans against the display counter, chin propped in his hand as he watches you fiddle with the headphone cord, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Nothing really," he murmurs, but there's something soft in his expression, something unguarded that makes your heart skip.

You pause, catching the way he's looking at you — like you're something precious, something more than just his best friend of fifteen years. "Satoru?" you say softly.

He seems to catch himself then, straightening abruptly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Ah, yes. Should we, uh." His voice comes out slightly strangled. "Should we get these paid for? Before they close?"

"The store closes in two hours."

"Better safe than sorry." He's already heading for the checkout, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

What you don't know — what you couldn't hear through those noise-canceling headphones — were three words he's been trying to say for years. Three words that slipped out so easily when he knew you couldn't hear them, when the safety of silence gave him the courage he's never had before.

"I love you."

Simple. Honest. Everything he's wanted to tell you since he was seventeen and realized his best friend was the love of his life. Everything he's been too afraid to say, too afraid to risk losing you.

But for now, those words remain caught in the space between silence and sound, in the safety of a moment you couldn't hear. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to say them again, when you can actually hear him.

Maybe one day soon.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Hello!✨ I'm kind of back to writing, truth is I've been wanting to write some things these past weeks however it's been impossible for me to be able to come up with something, I'm having serious writers block😭it's a bit frustrating because I love writing😭😭😭 but I'll try my best to end all the requests and hopefully fully come back!🫶🏻

This is a kind of small reaction with Barça Boys (Pedri, Gavi, Fermín and Ferran) , let me know what you guys think!✨

Slam Car Door

Pedri:

He jumped in his seat, his eyes wide as he saw you slam the door of his car

"Madre mía" (Dear god) He whispered, you opened the door to his car

"I'm so sorry" You say with your hand covering your mouth "I didn't meant to, I couldn't grab the door properly and the wind knocked it out of my hands"

"No te preocupes, amor. Ten cuidado, ¿Sí?" (Don't worry, love. Be careful, yeah?) You nod smiling

"¿Compro un kilo o dos de plátano?" (Should I buy one or two kilos of bananas?) You ask

"Dos. Uno pa' ti y el otro pa'mi" (Two. One for you and the other for me) You laugh nodding

"Got it" You went to close the door and Pedri once again jumped when you slammed the door. His mouth opened and one of his hands moved in question

"Amor" You could read his lips from the window

"It's the wind! It's the wind!" You hurriedly say opening the door once again

"Be careful, bonita. The door can break and-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I'll be careful" You say blowing him a kiss, closing the door.

"Y/N!" He yells when he sees you slamming the door "¡Preciosa!"

"What?" You ask giggling

"Stop doing that!"

"What am I doing?!"

"When we get home I swear I'll slam the door of our bathroom!"

"Don't you dare, Pedro González!"

Gavi:

"Any other thing you want me to buy?" You ask lifting your head up from the notes on your phone to look at your two years boyfriend

"I think that would be it"

"You sure? I don't want to forget anything"

"You can add the things we might need to do burguers"

"You want to eat burguers?" He nods smiling softly, you smile before writing down the items you'll need for the dinner "And that's it?" You look down at his hand in your thigh and played with his fingers.

"Yes I think that would be it, unless you'd like to add something at last minute"

"Probably I will" He laughs "I'll be going then" You undo the seatbelt "Hopefully in fifteen minutes, I'm back" You lean over to kiss his cheek.

"Take your time, preciosa"

He grabs his bottle of water from the cupholder and drinks from it. Only to get choked up by it when he hears the slam, his pouty face turns into his famous frown, eyes full of confusion.

"Are your parents coming tomorrow, right? Or is it next week? I'll be cooking your mom's favorite, so should I buy the ingredients now or wait until we're on a closer date?"

"They're coming next week" He confirms what you already know

"So, should I buy them later?" He nods

"Yes, tomatoes can get bad really quick so it's better that way" He nods his eyebrows furrowed. He looked so cute, you wanted to laugh.

"Perfecto, gracias" (Perfect, thanks) You close the door once again, before almost leaving you saw his eyes wide open, trying to figure out how to call you out on this. "Also, do you want me to buy the big jar of nuts?" You ask "or maybe the medium"

"Any of them it's fine" He nods "Something's wrong?"

"No, why?"

"It seems like you're mad"

"I'm not, baby. Why do you say that?" He gets quiet for a minute before shaking his head "Nothing" He whispers "Try not close the door so hard, bebé"

You look at the door before letting a small -oh- acting as if you didn't knew what was bothering him "Did I close it too hard?" He nods instantly

"Joder, si" (Fuck yeah)

"Ay, lo siento" (Sush, I'm sorry) You nod "I'll be careful" You say blowing him a kiss, he winks back at you, you smile and stopped for a few seconds before slamming the door shut.

You could only see his eyes wide open and the "Me cago en la-" he let out before you ran away while laughing, soon you heard the sound of the honk of your boyfriend's car and his yell of your name. You made sure to buy his favorite chocolate cake that day.

Fermín:

"Want me to go with you, amor?"

"Don't worry, Fer. You can stay here, I'll be back in a few minutes" You lean over to kiss his cheek twice before he moved his head and crashed his lips into yours

"Be careful" He said before giving you another kiss, you giggle

"I'll re-stock my girly things and be back in a few minutes"

"I know but still" You smile

"Te quiero mucho más" You say "Want me to bring something for you?"

"I'm so in love with you, you're too cute"

"Te quiero"

"A muffin would do"

"Got it" You got out of the car and without looking back you slammed the door, you started walking but the honk of your boyfriend's car interrupted you "What's up?"

"I think the door wasn't closed"

"Oh! Let me do it again" You slammed the door once again, a bit stronger than before "Better?" You asked and he shook his head

"Not yet" You opened it and closed it again "More" You did it once again putting all of your strenght, you winced a bit in this last one

"Now?"

"Nope"

"Fermín!"

"You were the one starting it, mi amor!"

Ferran:

"¡Ostras!" (Fuck!) "Cuidado, un poco mas y se te devuelve la puerta, preciosa" (Careful, a little more and the door will be returned to you, precious)

"I'm so sorry, Fer! I didn't meant to!"

"That you pay for my door insurance, nena"

"Ferran, stop. It wasn't that bad!"

"Que no fue tan mal? Casi me tiras la puerta en la cara!" (It wasn't that bad? You almost threw the door in my face)

"Exagerado" (Exaggerated)

"Not exaggerated, I'm just taking precautions" You roll your eyes

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Torres. I'll go" He nods

"I'll be waiting for you, beautiful" You smile and close the door once again. You looked at Ferran who simply looked at you, you tried your best to hold your laughter

"What?"

"I know what you're doing and you won't get any reaction from me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?!"

"You dislike this car and want me to buy another one, right?"

"That's not-"

"Save it. I'll do it"

"No! If you want a new car you don't have to say I influenced you"

"But you did" He said "My mind's already setting everything up"

"But I didn't! All I was doing was slamming your car door to see your reac-" You cut yourself off and Ferran's eyebrows went up lightly. You fell in his trap.

"¿Estabas tirando la puerta de mi coche?" (Were you slamming my cars door?)

"In my defense... I was trying to see your reaction and I didn't do it that hard!"

"No, ¡Un poco más y la puerta llega a mi cara!" (No, a bit more and the door gets to my face!)

"¡Mentira!" (Liar!)

"Venga, vamos" (C'mon, let's go) "I'll go with you"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[nocturnaclysm]

I'm going to start off by highly, highly recommending What is Body Horror? by Shannon Lewis if you want to know what body horror entails, because the above definition is far too simplistic. It also fails to take into account why we love body horror so much, and fails to acknowledge how it's being utilized so cleverly in Mouthwashing.

Body horror holds a mirror up to the person, saying “this is you”; the person’s reaction is to reply, “it can’t be.”

Body horror is complex, but at its core are two crucial ideas: 1) loss (loss of autonomy, loss of self, loss of control, etc.), and 2) confronting your own mortality and vulnerability of the flesh. These two things are precisely why the devs chose to use Curly's circumstances as a storytelling device; his disability functions to parallel the loss of autonomy and vulnerability felt by Anya, not as a punishment but as a consequence of his own inaction. The horror is on Curly's end, as he's forced to look in the mirror only to not recognize himself, to realize that he's not the person he thought he was - not because he's disfigured, but because his disfigurement is a physical manifestation of his complacency in a system that functions to strip others (i.e. women) of their own autonomy and safety. Only when he's finally able to acknowledge this does he lose the ability he once had to do something about it, and all he can do is watch his inaction unfold before him, and to him, powerless now to stop it.

"Even the most natural process can feel like a perversion to the person to whom it is occurring."

Attributing ableism to this interpretation of Curly's character shows a lack of understanding for what body horror really represents. Body horror isn't horror because the body in question is disfigured or itself scary. It's horror because it forces you to confront your own vulnerability, because it's in our a nature, a primal instinct, to fear the "unnatural transformation, destruction, or degeneration of the human body or other creatures." It's in our nature to avoid it, to want to prevent it, and fear is a universal, primal emotion that's helped get humanity far enough to contemplate it. One could (and many, including myself, do) argue that having a body at all is inherently grotesque and horrific; our bodies smell, leak, decay, we're crawling with bacteria, we're susceptible to infection and disease, our insides spill out, shed, excrete. Most of all, we feel pain. Pain is a concept crucial to understanding Curly as body horror; the sounds he makes when you're feeding him his pill, the wailing you hear when he needs it, the blood-soaked bandages trying and failing to conceal the raw, exposed flesh underneath. The unbandaged eye following your every move, his only form of communication outside of agonized moans. It's horrific because he can't do anything but endure it, because there's no escaping it, not even in death. Jimmy took that from him, too. (The horror is on Jimmy's end just as well, while we're at it. He has to stare his sins right in the face and reconcile with them, but he fears it. Fears him. Again, not because he's disfigured, but because his disfigurement represents something much larger, much more horrific - the consequences of his own actions and the need to "take responsibility" for them.)

As the article touches on, though, there is a way to paint certain bodies that can be read as ableist (ex. "stories that position becoming disabled as a “fate worse than death”, antagonists with marked visible disabilities when compared with the “heroes.”"). This is an important distinction to make, but interpreting Curly's circumstances as body horror does not align with this (unless they're expressly saying he's horrific himself for being disabled, which I don't think anyone is arguing). Mouthwashing is a horror game after all. The use of Curly's disfigured body to instill fear in the player is deliberate, a perfect representation of what body horror represents. Whether or not you agree with its use is another conversation entirely, but make no mistake - Curly's disfigurement is horrific, in more ways than one.

body horror is defined as a horror subgenre depicting "the unnatural transformation, destruction, or degeneration of the human body or other creatures".

mouthwashing things that are body horror (or adjacent):

giant womb full'a horse fetuses

hallway full of giant curly eyeballs

climbing out of a giant disembodied curly head

polle centipede

jimmy dismembering and eating parts of curly (cannibalism; the dehumanisation and consumption of human meat)

mouthwashing things that are not body horror:

curly being a burn victim & amputee

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Fam: Pool Days

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: baby Ellie remembers how to swim.

- - - -

Ellie knows how to swim. She went to all the infant swim lessons and survival trainings just like Sarah did. You have no fear of Ellie's swimming capabilities.

But at some point over the winter, she forgot she knew, and developed a fear of water. The four of you took a trip to the local pool, where Sarah and Joel jumped right in. Even as Sarah was determined to take Joel down with all her might (to absolutely no sucess) Joel still had his arms stretched out ready to catch Ellie to jump in.

Ellie--bless her bitty chubby soul-- had no interest to jump in. She was almost two at this point. Bucket hat and fat floaties on her shoulders, she twirled her fingers anxiously, looking away from daddy with drawn browns.

"Its okay, baby, daddy is gonna catch you!" He encourages, curling his hands towards himself in come hither motion "You don't even have to swim!"

But she shakes her head, running back to you and clutching your legs for dear life.

"That's okay Ellie. We don't have to swim today. Do you wanna sit with me?"

She nods, her head buried between your knees.

So you and Ellie sat on the hot concrete and watches curiously ad ants lined up, grabbed crumbs of discarded food, and filed away to their cracks in the sidewalk. She pointed to them curiously, only occasionally glancing at the pool before shifting away and dedicating all her focus on the very dry ground.

The next day, you sat on the shallow edge of the stairs into the pool. It took some coaxing, but Ellie sat on the dry edge, and only managed to dip her large toes in at a time. Sarah continued to climb atop Joel like a tree, grunting and trying to pull his chest down knock him under water, but he just kept grabbing her and yeeting her 6 feet in the air to splash back into the pool.

Next day, Ellie's ankles kicked in the water, but she was still too afriad to get in any further.

"I dont get it. She knows how to swim," Joel complained. His biggest gripe is why he has to bring all these floaties day after day if neither Sarah nor Ellie were using them. He was also feeling a big dejected. You could tell he wanted Ellie to trust him with this. He was a great dad.

"Its a mental thing..." it really was. You didnt have any other explanation for it. You weren't gonna traumatize her by pushing her in and forcing her to fight or flight.

The four of you got close to the edge. Ellie saw the water and immediately retreated back towards the furthest fence, more content with swimming in the artificial grass.

"I figured she'd want to get in with me," he pouts. Joel saw it all going differently. That Ellie would feel more comfortable being around Joel, even if he carried her all day in the water. He'd swear never to let a drop get on her. But not even her favorite man was enough to sway her.

Joel miller is a great father. A great husband.

You....

You glances at Joel, who's walking closer to the edge of the pool than you.

The thought breezes through your mind, and you come to the conclusion that you are not as great a wife.

using all your strength, you shove him off balance and send him flying into the pool without warning.

He has no chance to get his anchor as he goes crashing into the water, elbow and head first.

On cue, Ellie screams and immediately forced her fat legs to run as fast as they can, straight to the water. Eithout a seconds hesitation that she's had all week, she launches herself at full speed, scrunches her legs in the air and cannon balls into the pool butt first.

You must be a really bad mom too because You didn't expect her to just jump in by herself!!!

But to your immediately relief, she bobs her head up and starts frantically kicking and paddling doggy style to reach Joel.

Joel resurfaces, standing tall as the water was only deep to his waist, and shakes his head annoyingly. He frowns at you before realizing there's a very fast moving worm coming towards him-

"daDDY!" She shouts concerningly. Even though everyone else can clearly tell Joel is in no harm whatsoever, she still pants hard as she pettles her way to him like his life depends on it.

Joel blinks away the chlorine in his eyes, in disbelief at her sudden determination. "ELLIE! You did it!"

He reaches out and grasps her into his arms.

"I save DADDY!" She exclaims.

"Ahh.. I mean you didn't really..."

He glances up at you with eyes that signal to him to shut the fuck up.

"you DID! You saved me from drowning."

"All by myself!" She coos excitedly. "Daddy I swim!"

After that Ellie was completely comfortable in the pool, with Joel remaining a 4 foot radius at all times (knowing he could drown at any moment again).

"I wanna push him in next!" Sarah protested.

Ellie screeches "NO!" And defensively clutched Joel's whole head as she sat atop his shoulders.

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @jeewrites

[giamee]

╭┄───────────── 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐔𝐕! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

featuring. hsr men 〆 wc. 1.0k

art creds. 海仑 on weibo 〆 contains. mentions of being drunk/drinking, some suggestiveness but still sfw

gia's notes. new layout bc im allergic to keeping a theme 🏰 also i'm writing this while i procrastinate an essay. which is due in like.. 8.5 hours. and i am 2k over the word limit. joy upon joy.

╰┄➤ ❝ request. anon 〆 What HSR men says when they are drunk. ❞

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re SWEET when they’re drunk.

his voice gets a touch softer, a little lower so that you have to crane your neck and lean in real close to him to catch what he's saying over the bustle of the bar that you went to and the chatter of your friends that you came with. it’s like you’re in your own little universe with him, the sweet pinkish tint to his cheeks and the dilated pupils a look that you could definitely get used to- not that his usual more reserved look didn’t make your heart hammer in your chest, too.

but it's just so rare to see him like this, for him to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky, like every word that passes your lips is a prayer, whose hands furl and unfurl in his lap like he's itching to touch you (you wish he would).

it's not like he really says much, per se, instead opting to watch your every move wide-eyed and with a slackened jaw. you're growing warm under his gaze, and you stutter out that he'll really have to quit staring at you like that before you get the wrong idea. that does little to stop his actions, though he does flash you a sheepish smile.

"i'm sorry, you just look so beautiful."

you almost choke as you take a sip of your own drink.

gepard, dan heng (imbibitor lunae), moze, luocha

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re FLIRTY when they’re drunk.

it should be illegal for him to be this much of a smooth talker with that many drinks in his system. he's completely and utterly shameless, one arm rested casually against the back of your chair and his whole undivided attention on you as he throws every line he knows right at you hoping that one will land.

you'd be lying if you said that you weren't enjoying this attention from him, though there's the remaining sober part of you screaming how he's just a friend over and over, but when he dips his head low to whisper into your ear you're delighted to find that part of you audibly drown out.

everything about him is just so... tantalising. the way his silver tongue darts out to swipe across his lip, him not missing the way your eyes follow the movement. the way he leans back in his seat, the hungry yet calculating look in his eyes doing something to you. the way you see him deliberating over something before finally opening his mouth to speak.

and when he asks you if you want to get out here with him, it's only natural for you to accept his offer.

aventurine (realistically he gets sad when he drinks but that is not romantical or lighthearted at all) jiaoqiu, gallagher, boothill

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TALKATIVE when they’re drunk.

even on a good day, he's known to just talk, and talk, and talk if he gets going. that particular quality only seems to be amplified by the alcohol coursing through his system. he's been talking your ear off for the past half hour or so, a never-ending flow of words escaping his lips as he seems to he telling you just about everything that's on his mind.

you see the glances from others, the pity edging its way to concern adorning their features, but little do they know that you don't mind one bit.

while he may not be everyone's favourite to talk to, you've always found something within you compelled to sit and listen while he talks. he's always had something interesting to say, always been wary of if you are feeling tired or bored (not that you ever would be of him), and over your few encounters you've grown to be rather fond of him.

he's still talking now, an enthusiastic gleam in his eye as you smile and nod, propping your chin against your hand as you get comfy and study his features unbothered.

he sees the affectionate look on your face and stops for a moment, smiling widely and stuttering a few times before continuing.

dr ratio, sampo, mr reca, argenti

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TIRED when they’re drunk.

it's something that happened once, a few months ago when you had drank with them for the first time. you had all been in a group, and you had been chatting away with your friends rather livelily (i dont think that's a word) until you promptly felt a weight against your shoulder.

your reactions are a bit sluggish, but when you do turn to see just what it could be you're surprised to see a head of hair, and your tipsy brain just about manages to realise he's slumped over, dozing off on your shoulder, much to the amusement of everyone at the table.

you find it rather funny yourself, sneaking your phone out of your pocket to snap a rather unflattering-angled photo of him (which he still manages to look good in) that you send to him the next morning (he smiled to himself as he saw your grinning face in the corner of it and saved it to his camera roll).

you don't quite have the heart to wake him up or shrug him off, so you sort of just... let him be and continue talking like nothing had happened. some nondescript amount of time later he wakes up, blinking uncertainly as he gains his surroundings, before jolting up ramrod straight and apologising to you.

you giggle, tell him it's alright and tease that he must be getting old to be asleep this early, which is met with an unimpressed look from him.

but from that night onwards, it happens a little too... often to be some chance.

every time he drinks, without fail, his head drops onto your shoulder. it's somewhat of a routine to snap a photo of him like this, to admire it in secret before sending it to him, and it's somewhat of a tradition now for him to wake up and instead send you a reserved smile before letting himself doze off on your shoulder again.

not that either of you are complaining.

blade, jing yuan, caelus, welt

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

[crescenthistory]

hi there love! i hope you're doing well 🤍 if it's okay w/ u, i'd like to request a regulus fic (are we surprised? no-) with an animagus! reader. maybe reggie and reader got into a fight about something and reader's still holding a grudge. they refuse to change out of their cat (or any animal u choose!) form and regulus is trying everything to get them to change back. ending in fluff probably :D

~🍓

i'm quite alright darling, hope the same goes for you<3 this little drabble is written with the same cat!animagus!reader i've written for reggie so far in mind (whiskers, my love) since she's known to be petty...

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: fem!reader, minor fight (lighthearted), embarrassment, you're petty, regulus grovels, black brothers have poor people skills, make-up, background wolfstar and (judgemental) bsf!remus

"How long has she been like this?"

Sirius was eyeing Regulus funnily, seemingly drawn between wanting to laugh at him and wondering if maybe he should comfort him. Remus felt none of the latter sentiments and all of the former.

"Since our last class on Friday," Regulus replied miserably from where his face was buried in his hands, resting atop his knees. "She shifted immediately after."

"So... for over 24 hours," Sirius surmised.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on how Regulus lifted his head from where he was practically bent in half, just to glare at his older brother. "Thanks for doing the maths, Sirius. Not the problem I needed solving, though." Throughout his sentence, his eyes increasingly narrowed at his brother as if his irritation grew with every word.

"No, your problem," Remus volleyed. "Is whatever the hell you've done."

Regulus groaned and buried his face once more.

Across the common room from the trio, a white and grey cat was pettily walking back and forth along whatever furniture it could reach. Its tail was standing up straight, whipping about in annoyance.

Remus poked Regulus in the ribs to get a response. "What'd you do, Baby Black?"

"I may or may not have corrected her in Potions in front of Slughorn, even though she may have been working on gaining his respect all term," Regulus murmured.

The chuckle that escaped Remus was finally one of understanding. "Ah," he said through a smile. "I believe that is what we in the business call a rookie mistake."

Regulus sat up with a jerk, hands moving emotively as he made his case to his brother and brother-in-law, where they were sat on top of each other in a plush chair. "But I've apologised! Profusely, and several times! I don't know what else to do?" The last sentence was voiced as a question, though it was not formulated as one. Perhaps the closest the younger Black brother could get to asking for help.

"Maybe you should give Slughorn a speech about how great she is."

Regulus quirked up at that, eyes zeroing in on Sirius. "You really think that would work?" Remus could have burst out laughing at the lack of sarcasm in the younger boy's voice.

"No," Remus said softly, while chidingly patting Sirius' knee. "Don't listen to him, you lot have the same amount of people skills. Do you know your girlfriend, Regulus?"

"Yes?" Regulus' voice was uncertain, looking between the boys with furrowed brows.

"What usually motivates her to hold a grudge?" Remus prompted then, ever patient.

He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "When she feels wronged. Like when Evan apologised for her 'interpretaion' of what he said instead of for him hurting her feelings, and she disliked him for three years."

Remus nodded solemnly. "And is there a reason she might still feel wronged by you now?"

Regulus' gaze finally fixated on the cat across the room, nodding too as the puzzle pieces slowly assembled in his mind. "I apologised for correcting her... but not embarrassing her. She probably feels like I was lording over her or something."

"Meaning..?" Gods, Remus was really laying it on thick here. The curse of the Black family.

"I should go tell her as much." Regulus nodded and moved to hurry over towards you, swinging around at the last minute to give the two boys an almost-smile. "Uh, thanks Sirius. Remus."

Then he was off.

Sirius turned his face into Remus' cheek. "No idea what he's thanking me for; you did all the talking."

Remus sighed, melting further into his boyfriend. "That's what I've been saying."

Regulus tenderly approached you, sitting down somewhat gingerly in a chair beside the table you were currently parading around. "Hi, amour," he said softly. "Can we talk?"

You just wagged your tail in response, in a fashion Regulus has come to learn means displeasure.

"Please love, I want to give you a proper apology. It would be best to do so face-to-face, no?" He reached his hand out towards you, an open invitation. You stopped for a moment to regard him, but then lightly slapped at his hand to get it out of your face. Regulus decided to take it as a victory that your claws were retracted at the very least – you weren't out for blood.

“Okay,” he said through a breath. “I guess I’ll just… talk to a kitten and look crazy.” Upon your quiet hiss, he amended, “Talk to a cat, sorry. Gods, I’m sputtering today, aren’t I?” That final part you seemed to agree upon at least.

“Amour, I am truly deeply sorry for embarrassing you like that. It was such a little thing, and Slughorn has been so unfair towards you this year. I didn't mean to set you back in your progression with him, though frankly, he is in the wrong there, not you. As am I. For someone who feels like he can go around correcting people, that was quite air-headed of me, yeah? The one person keeping me grounded is you, amour, please would you come back to me? You can give me a proper scolding if you’d like, I can take it.”

Regulus was pouring his heart out, and if he dared to hope, he thought your feline face might have softened. You walked closer to him, seemingly studying his face.

Then, you jumped off the table and ran away.

He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall down to the table with a light thump. If you were going to keep giving him the furred shoulder, he might just stay here. It was hard work being a tosser who’s missing his girlfriend.

Before he could wallow further in his sorrows, he felt a soft hand be placed on his shoulder. A touch he would recognise anywhere.

His head flew up from the table to look up at you – standing above him, smiling softly and somewhat sheepishly. The hand on his shoulder grew bolder, squeezing, while the other came up to cup the side of his face. Regulus ignored any instinct to cower away and instead happily melted into your touch.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, and he knew he was mostly forgiven.

Emboldened by this new development, he turned in his seat so that his body faced you, slotting you in between his thighs and letting his hands come to rest heavily at the top of your hip. “Hi amour,” he breathed out, reverent. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you laughed, and he knew you knew what. He indulged you anyway.

“Coming back to me.” His voice was murmured, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. “I miss you when you remain as Whiskers, you know?”

“I do know,” you teased. “That’s kind of the whole point, yeah? Make you think.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead tentatively against your stomach. “A cruel punishment, but an understandable one. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Regulus sighed when your hand migrated to scratch through his hair. “I know, baby. I just wanted to hear you say it. And–” at this point he could hear the blush in your voice “– at some point it just became principle. Too late to back out.”

Laughing against the fabric of your shirt, he moved to rest his chin against you, gazing up at you at an angle that was slightly uncomfortable but definitely worth it. He let a small grin slip. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered.

“Oi!” you chided gently. “You’re in no position to levy such accusations, mister.”

“I can’t imagine loving you more,” he said through a sigh, not even thinking over the words. They were just right, and demanded to be brought up.

If the way your body melted against his was anything to go by, you didn’t mind.

A booming voice cut the moment short. “You two are painfully dramatic,” Sirius yelled from across the room, clearly having paid attention to the whole make-up conversation. “Please never fight again.”

“And that’s coming from Sirius Black,” Remus added solemnly, earning himself an indignant swat from his partner.

“He’s right,” Regulus whispered conspiratorially to you. “I cannot be the most dramatic Black brother, that would be blasphemy.”

“Then I suggest,” you said before giving him a light peck, “you be on your best behaviour from now on.

A grin. “Yes ma’am.”

[bazpire]

Doing my own take on this.

The equinox. The most important holiday. For werewolves, at least. The moon was at it's highest, and the fresh air of the forest filled up the lungs of every living creature in it.

Willa sat, restless, in front of the table filled with her pack, or rather, her father's pack.

He cleared his throat, silencing everyone. She could see the spark in his eyes. Her father was drunk in power, way before drinking even a sip of wine, he loved being able to silence any room he entered in, he loved the intimidation and fear he caused in others.

He was a fucking sadist.

"As we all know, my dearest daughter is turning sixteen this month, my beautiful little pup." He looked at her, and Willa felt her heart, feral and wild, ramming against her ribcage, screaming for blood. She hated him.

She didn't hate him for his borderline dictatorship on the pack, or his sadism, or the way he looked at her as if she was a doll, a tool, a pretty little decoration he could move and control as he pleased.

She hated him because of the woman in front of her.

She hated the way he'd make her mom lower her head, make her smile disappear, make her flinch with every touch, she despised the way his eyes would look at her like a trophy, like a pray well hunted, like a meal meant to be devoured.

Willa looked up to her mother, who was already gazing at her, sending her a nice, soft, calming smile. That's the one she always had. She was relaxing, calming, she'd make Willa feel that everything would be okay, even when it wouldn't be.

That just cemented even more the decision she took.

"And that means that she's old enough to officially join the pack, so we can all welcome out new member." Vères finished his speech, with everyone giving an applause.

As he sat down, he widened his eyes and felt his blood freeze by his daughter's actions. She got up, still with everyone's attention, full of tension and palatable rage.

"And as an official member of the pack and the next in line as alpha, I believe my first action will be... to fucking kill you." She pushed the chair behind her until it fell, turning towards the other members. "I, Willa Domhnall, challenge the alpha of the Bahutan pack, Vères Domhnall, to a battle to death for the position of alpha of the pack and," this time she turned her head, looking into his eyes, deeply and unbroken "for the freedom of my mother, Adeena Zyanya."

The whispers and gasps filled her ears and made her blood boil.

Adeena's hand was over her mouth, a horrified look in her eyes, she was terried. What would happen now? How would her kidnapper/abuser/mate react? Was her daughter in danger? What was happening?

Vères started manically laughing.

"Oh, my darling puppy, you have a killer sense of humour."

"Not the only killer sense I have, father. Now get up." She spat back

"You- you must be kidding, dearest, why would you ever-"

"Shut up!" She interrupted him, slamming her hands into the table, making everything shake. "Are you really asking why? After all of these years of abuse, pain, suffering, torture-"

"I never laid my hands on you!"

"I'm not talking about me!" She shouted, making him flinch. Willa didn't even have it in herself to feel happy about it. "I'm talking about my mother. What? You think I don't know? You think I'm so fucking stupid that I wouldn't realise? All of these years... all of the wicked shit you'd do to her... well, not anymore, Vères. You made me, you gave me life, and now I'm going to take yours."

She straightened up, starting to grow, starting to change, starting to shift. She became bigger, so big that all of her clothes were ripped off, she was covered in fur, long sharp claws were visible in what once were her soft, delicate hands, now more like paws. Her face, now a snout, was dripping in drool spilling from her monstrous fangs.

She quickly attacked, barely giving her father time to change as well, as he growled and pushed her back.

"C'mon! Fight me, old man! You seemed very fucking tough when you were forcing my mother down into the floor to hurt her, weren't you? What? Can't handle someone your size?" She screamed, in a language that only her father, already shifted, could understand.

Adeena, the other members of the pack, and even the non-werewolf mates stepped back. The werewolves started to howl and growl and scream, and Adeena felt like she couldn't breathe.

Her daughter was going to be killed because of her.

"I never hurt you! Not a single time, I always treated you like a treasure! You were my precious, treasured pup!" Vères growled as he dodged he daughter's claws.

"I'm not your fucking pup! I never was!" Willa kicked him in the stomach, receiving a scratch on her face that made her whimper, but it was worth it to see her dad fly to the ground. "Since I was ten years old, I stopped seeing you as a pup or as a daughter. My eyes looked at you as a woman, and I hated what I saw." Her growls, her words were laced with venom, pure and utter hatred. Something ancient. Something that is hers, but isn't at the same time.

The hate in her eyes, Vères realised, was the same hate Adeena had the day he took her.

And he snapped, jumping on his daughter and trying to beat, scratch, bite her, anything to take her down. But Willa wouldn't go down. She was as free and feral as the forest itself.

Blood spilt all over the forest dirt, the wolves howling ringing on their ears, the screams of the mates fueling the fire.

Willa felt like she was about to explode, and Vères was ready to drop the match, but before anything could actually happen...

Willa felt something hot dripping on her face.

She looked up, her father was bleeding from his mouth, and looking down at her with a shocked expression. They both looked down, seeing a dagger sticking out of Véres' chest and slightly cutting Willa's.

He dropped to the side, letting her have a view on who had a hand on her survival.

Adeena.

She dropped the weapon, falling to her knees and bringing her daughter into a hug.

"You stupid, foolish little girl," she cried, holding Willa like she was going to disappear into the wind.

Willa slowly started to shift back, becoming smaller in her mother's embrace, limp, and in pain. "Mommy, what...?" She wanted to ask what happened, if she was okay, what was gonna happen now. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was the woman crying while holding her, the woman who gave life to her, the woman that had everything taken from her. Well, almost everything.

Willa hugged Adeena back, holding her so tightly she could've swore she heard something crack and pop, but her mom never even made an attempt to push her away, still sobbing her heart out. "It's okay, Mommy, it's okay. He's gone now. You're safe, and he will never hurt you again. I'll take care of you, I'll take care of everything, we'll be alright." She comforted.

I've been wanting to ramble about this so bad all day.

Yanderes who baby trap their darlings (especially when they're non-human or not fully human) are dumb.

Babes. You just created your own demise.

Sure! Maybe for the first couple years you've got what you wanted, you'll get a mini you/them and they'll be stuck with you.

But kids aren't stupid, they'll notice.

That little pup you forced upon your prey? Will notice the way you stare hungrily at their mother, and they'll smell their birth giver's fear.

Like, have you met children of fathers who were abusive to their mothers? They're incredibly protective, I have a friend who heard his father call his mother a bitch and sent him to the hospital. At 16.

I was deadly terrified of my dad, but he threw a plastic bottle at my mom (granted, it was accidental) and I bitch slapped him into next week.

And why do i say non-human yanderes are especially stupid? Because sure, the victim (be that a prey hybrid or a human) can not fight back. But the child can. They have it in their genes, the yandere's blood, the yandere's non-human-ness.

Once they're old enough, it's done.

Now I wanna see a platonic!yandere!werewolf!daughter against a yandere!werewolf!father.

[lvis44]

Talk To Me // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), Angst, Mostly unestablished relationship, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Alcohol, Not edited

Word Count: 9.6k+

Summary: It's hard to know what someone else is thinking when you don't let them into your own thoughts, but Lewis will certainly show you exactly what's on his mind If you let him.

Notes: Lmao so my poll was pointless, here's all of it all at once! My little fingers were flying tonight! Some fluff, some angst, some smut, followed by some more fluff, just what we all love. I don't have much to say about this one other than ENJOY! I'll be working on a one shot based on that stupid little gladiator fit, the outfit did nothing for me but THE ARMS AND THE FACE??? best believe we need a lil something based on that. Love y'all!!!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

“I’m so sorry I have to cut this short hun.” Lewis said as he wiped his mouth across the table, his eyes truly apologetic.

“I’m just glad I got to see you for a few minutes while you were here.” You said softly, your heeled foot brushing his calf under the table, your words coming out much shyer than your actions.

It wasn’t that you and Lewis were new to each other, far from it. You had met him at the beginning of his season and now here he was, just a few weeks away from moving to Ferrari. Every break he had he’d made time to see you, yet he’d been a perfect gentleman the entire time. Yes, the pet names were laid on in excess and the touches had begun to linger a few months ago but you were becoming restless for more. You really couldn’t blame yourself when he had the audacity to sit across the table from you looking so incredible, being so sweet every time he suggested you get together. Yes, you may have turned him down at first but this was getting ridiculous, there's no way you two were not on the same page.

“I don’t want to cut anything short, I wish I could stay, I really do,” He paused as he reached forward to grab your hand, “but I have a red carpet in like two days and I have to meet with Eric.”

“Mmm,kay” you huffed out infantly.

“Nah, don’t do that, I’ll see you before I head out, I promise.” He smirked at your attitude, squeezing your hand.

“So you don’t have any time for a pretty girl in between dinner and Eric?” You asked, attempting to layer the sultry and lust in your voice as you let your foot wander higher.

“Y/N.” His voice came out strained but stern, his strong hand grabbing your leg, “I cut it close by even getting dinner with you tonight, just couldn’t stay away.”

“So it sounds like I win over Eric.” You giggled, leaning forward on the table, your calf still in his strong palm.

“Don’t do this to me,” He groaned, “Listen I can leave the tab open, just don’t go home with anyone unless you’re calling me.”

“What if I call you in like 10 minutes?” you giggled again, his hand snaking up your calf despite how composed he was trying to stay.

“Y/N.” He warned, his voice low but his hand never ceasing its exploration.

“Well you go have fun with business things I guess, I’ll be here enjoying the atmosphere and free drinks, as long as I end my night with you.” You told him with a laugh as he stood up, dropping your leg abruptly, no amusement to be shown on his face.

“Not so sure you know what you just asked for baby girl, enjoy the drinks, I’ll send you a car.” Lewis whispered, bent down so only you could hear, making your stomach flip, finishing with a kiss to your cheek.

You watched as his muscular body moved away, staring at him intently as he told the host something while looking directly at you. Through the rest of the evening you enjoyed free drinks while sat with the best view, you listened as the dinner atmosphere turned into a club yet no one disrupted you unless they were refilling your drink. You were happily buzzed and seconds later your phone was buzzing just as much as you were.

“I couldn’t just send a car…” His sultry British accent came over the speaker.

“Are you saying you’re outside to pick me up sir?” You teased him.

“Of course baby, c’mon before I hire someone to drag you out.” He chuckled

“She came in with Lewis Hamilton but he didn't leave with her”

“Heard he's been seeing some woman on the east side.”

“He can't even convince us he likes his car, why would he like her”

The laughter of the girls that were probably too young to be there anyway stuck in your chest. A 15 year olds opinion didn’t matter right? But then again they see the tabloids and you avoid them…

By the time you’re out of the restaurant and into Lewis' car you find yourself in a foul mood, your happy buzz turning into a sad drunk imagining everything he could have done in the last few hours.

“You okay love?” He asks as you plop into the passenger seat, not even waiting for him to see you and open it up for you.

“Mmmm.” You humm, still stupidly in your head.

“Y/N, what’s going on? I’m so sorry I had to leave but-” Lewis starts his argument as he pulls onto the freeway.

“You do whatever you want, Lewis.” You say sharply,

“Woah, where did that come from?” Lewis asks, sharp but inquisitive.

“I should have known you were too good for me, my lew was just a fucking phase. All the damn teenagers in the restaurant knew it… you went and got fucked by someone else, I get it, i made you wait, you’re you, you’re a playboy and I guess-” You try to rant before his hand is against your mouth

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asks, finally letting your mouth free with a look of pure confusion.

“What am I talking about? Where the hell did you go tonight? What are all those girls talking about?” You ask him sharply.

“Y/N, I went and saw Eric, I told you that. And are you talking about the teenage girls trying to get drinks at the bar?” His voice is firm before turning to further confusion.

“Yes Lewis, I am, they had lots to say as I left.” You try to keep your voice firm but it ends up sounding childish as you slump into your seat, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Y/N, those girls are like 15 years old and probably drunk for the first time in their lives, they were trying to drunkenly flirt with me when I left as if that isn’t a damn felony. Why the hell are you listening to anything they have to say?” His voice is incredulous, unable to process that the night has taken them to this point.

“Well you’re not denying a word they said right now, are you?” You throw back at him.

“I honestly didn’t think I had to!” He exclaims, still in disbelief.

You let out a scoff, turning to look out the window.

“Y/N, c’mon, I had a meeting with Eric, one that I was late to so I could make time to see you, I’m here to pick you up so I can spend more time with YOU. Why the hell would I be off with someone else?” His voice is firm but still holds a faint questioning tone.

“I don’t know, I’m evidently not good enough for you, I don’t even know how or why I caught your attention in the first place. I don’t even know what the hell it is that we’re doing. You haven’t even kissed me Lewis! I constantly feel like an idiot, I sit here wanting you to fuck me and the most I get out of you is you calling me ‘baby’.” You let all of your thoughts come out, against your better judgment, slumping against your seat with a huff.

He is quiet for a moment, stunned to silence. He is struggling between keeping his eyes on the road and staring at you in utter disbelief, a look you would see if you had the guts to steal a glance at him.

“I- I honestly don’t even know where to start…” He says quietly, trailing off.

“You know I’m right, that's why you don't know what to say.” You state as if it's a fact, a sassy quip in your tone as you shrug your shoulders, a sassiness that only comes out after some drinks.

He so badly wants to laugh, not only at your unusual sassiness but at just how ungodly wrong you are, but he knows that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, it would only make everything worse. Instead he does his best to stay firm.

“Sweetheart, no, you couldn’t be further from right. I adore you, I’m just…” He sighs, trying to find the way to explain his feelings without sending you further over the edge, “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, I’m trying to do things a little different than I normally would. I’m out of practice with this whole romance thing and I know that you were skeptical of it at first too. I don’t want to rush you, I just love being around you.”

You scowl at being called out, knowing he’s right, you were very skeptical when you first met him, not convinced that being anything other than an acquaintance of a man of his caliber was a smart idea. You don’t dwell on it though, the liquor in your brain deciding to latch on to something else, ‘he just loves being around you’, there it is, you’re friends.

“So you’re not attracted to me?” You almost whine, if you were sober you would be embarrassed at how it came out but you can’t find it in you to care right now.

“Where the hell did you get that?” He asks, this time he can’t hold back the chuckle.

“You literally just said that you just love being around me.” You point out, still clearly not understanding much of what he said.

“Yes, and I do, how does that translate to me not being attracted to you?” He questions, a small smirk on his face as he notices that your mood is switching slightly from angry to bratty.

“You said JUST, meaning that’s all you want.” You challenge him, reading far too much into his words.

“Y/N, I also said I’m trying to be a gentleman with you and not rush you because of your feelings and boundaries.” He says calmly as he keeps his eyes on the road, trying not to get irritated with the beautiful tipsy woman next to him.

“Well how long were you planning on being a gentleman because I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for about six months now.” You say boldly.

His eyes go wide as he chokes on his own spit, not used to you being so blatant. The two of you flirt, things have gotten suggestive between you two more often than not, but you so boldly admitting something like that is new territory for him. He has to take a moment to gather himself before speaking.

“I- I didn’t know that,” He admits, his voice low, “I honestly thought you had just barely warmed up to the idea of us being more than friends.”

“What about my foot on your crotch tonight seemed like I still wanted to be just your friend?” You laugh in disbelief, slightly unsure if you are bad at putting yourself out there or if he is that bad at reading signs.

“Well yeah, tonight was pretty clear what you wanted, and to be honest I was going to give you exactly that after my meeting, it’s why I picked you up! I’ve been going crazy trying to go slow!” He exclaims.

“Was?” You question quickly.

“What?” He asks, blinking in confusion.

“You said was.” You point out.

“Oh jeez, not this again Y/N.” He huffs, ready for you to be mad at him for a whole new reason.

“No no no, you said ‘was going to give you exactly that’. You don’t want to fuck me anymore?” You pout as you question him.

He once again has to take a moment to gather himself, still unsure how to handle your unabashedness. 

“No, I do! In the future, yes, and I will if you’ll let me, but you got in this car ready to cut my head off or at the very least never speak to me again, I kinda thought that the flirty mood from dinner had gone out the window.” He tries to explain as you near his house. With the argument he hadn’t even taken a moment to consider that maybe he should be dropping you at yours instead.

“So not tonight?” You huff.

“No Y/N, probably not tonight.” He says quietly, a hint of disappointment lingering in his words as he pulls into his driveway.

“Why are we here then?” You ask, unsure of what to do now.

“Just come inside for a bit, you can sleep in the guestroom if you want or I can call you a car later if you really want, but I don’t think this conversation is really done.” He coaxes you, undoing his seatbelt and turning to look at you.

“I feel like I’ve made my points.” You shrug, staying firmly seated in your spot.

This time he truly can’t help but laugh at you, getting out of the car and making his way to your door.

“Well maybe I haven’t made all of mine.” He says as he stands in the doorframe, his hand extended to help you out of the car.

You don’t say anything, choosing to stare straight ahead as the brattiness really sets in.

“Y/N, if you don’t get out of the car on your own I won’t hesitate to pick you up myself, c’mon.” His voice is slightly teasing but you can hear how serious he is.

Finally you sigh in defeat, grabbing his hand to step out of the car. You hate that the second you feel his skin on yours your whole body warms. Tingles go down your spine and everything feels just right, you’re meant to be holding his hand, you’re meant to be so much more than just friends, but right now you’re mad at him, so you do your best to shake it off. You’re confident that you played it cool but he could see the feelings from a mile away, the same warmth enveloping him the moment you placed your smaller hand in his. He would normally tease you, but right now he knows not to muddy the waters, he needs you to actually listen to him when he gets you inside. You snatch your hand back from him once you are standing, watching awkwardly as he grabs your purse and closes the car door before gesturing for you to head towards his house. You feel like a lost puppy, obeying his commands but you can’t help it, your bratty mood only has so much strength. When you get inside you feel out of place, despite having been there many times. You can’t explain exactly why you feel so bizarre about it, maybe it’s that you’re finally sobering up and starting to realize that you still have many doubts, maybe it’s that you’re sobering up and realizing exactly what you accused him of in the car, maybe it’s that you’re sobering up and really becoming aware that you blatantly told the man you wanted him to fuck you, regardless of what it is you would rather not be sober right now. The tension hanging in the air as he puts his jacket away is weighing on you like a heavy snow, you want him to put you out of your misery and break the silence but he doesn’t. Instead he just moves towards the kitchen, leaving you to follow him aimlessly. He grabs a glass from the cupboard as you wander over to his wine cooler, ready to make your selection for the talk you're about to have. Before you can even take in the selections you feel his hands on your waist, guiding you away and toward the kitchen island.

“Nope, I think you’ve had enough, sit.” He says firmly in your ear as he just about places you on a bar stool.

You don’t say anything, just watch as he makes his way back to the other side of the island, filling the glass he’d just taken out with water before he’s sliding it in your direction.

“I’m not thirsty.” You say, staring at the glass in front of you.

“You wanted wine about 20 seconds ago.” He deadpans, calling you out with a raise of his eyebrow.

“You know damn well that's not why I wanted the wine.” You shoot back at him, “You said you had points to make, go ahead.” You prompt him, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he shakes his head and a look of amusement creeps its way onto his face. He takes a moment, just staring at you, taking you in and you start to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Y/N, I don’t know what else to do.” He admits, sounding defeated.

You don’t respond verbally, furrowing your brow in confusion as you cock your head.

“I know we got to a… I guess a better place, back in the car, but I still don’t think you actually get it.” His voice is quiet, he sounds vulnerable.

This is unusual for you, you’re not used to Lewis being anything other than charming and cocky, to see him look defeated, vulnerable, it makes your stomach twist.

“I don’t get what?” You ask quietly, suddenly feeling slightly guilty.

“Hun, I try so hard. I don’t have enough time, and I know that, and I’m sorry for that, but I do my very best to see you as much as I physically can. When I’m away I try to not let a day go by where I don’t at least text you much less call you. I do stupid things with my schedule if it means I get to spend a few extra minutes with you. We’ve talked about things far deeper and greater than anything I’ve ever told my closest friends. I try to make every time I see you special because I know I’m not around for the casual moments and I have to be honest, most of that I’m not even doing for you. I’m doing it for myself because you are one of the most incredible women that I’ve ever met and I would kick myself if I let you fall through my fingers, yet here I am and it seems like I’ve done just that.” His eyes bore into yours as his words flow out freely, clearly unashamed about his feelings.

“I know you try hard, I never said you didn’t.” You say quietly, feeling almost like a child getting reprimanded after a tantrum.

“I know you didn’t say it, but I can’t help but feel it when you get in my car after a good night and immediately make it very clear that you don’t trust me.” He says firmly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I do trust you.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then why are you listening to drunk kids in a bar gossiping about things they know nothing about? Why don’t you tell me what you want with me? Things like the fact that apparently you’ve wanted to fuck me for the last six months? Why didn’t you tell me you were starting to maybe feel differently about this whole relationship after making it very clear that I didn’t have a shot?” His questions pour out in a way that makes your stomach knot, knowing he’s right to question all of it.

“I was drunk.” You answer meekly, hoping answering one question will be enough.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Okay, we’ll write that one off. What about the rest of it, Y/N?”

“It scares the shit out of me.” You admit so quietly you’re not sure he can hear as you stare at the glass of water in front of you.

“Admitting it to me or being with me?” He questions, his voice much softer now.

“All of it.” You say, feeling tears forming in your lash line.

“Explain it to me hun, because from where I am, we have a pretty amazing thing here if we just lean into it.” He says, so softly it could make you burst.

“I spend every day questioning not only why but hell if you’re even attracted to me. I know you have a billion other options so I don’t understand why you keep coming back, I’m afraid I’m just fun for you but then I think about it and I realize I’m not even your fun! We’re in wildly different worlds and I don’t even know how anything would ever work. I worry that you won’t be able to actually commit to anything. I worry that I’m the only one here feeling like this and I’m terrified of looking stupid and I’m terrified of losing the little bit of you that I have.” You rant, your tears now slipping past your lashes.

His face immediately softens when he sees your tears, quickly stepping around the island to get closer to you. He grabs the back of your chair, turning you to face him.

“Y/N, baby, I need to remind you that the very day we met, I point blank asked you out and you turned me down,” He starts quietly, taking your face in his hands to wipe away your tears as they fall, “I argued that we seemed like a good match and you had the audacity to agree with me but told me that you wanted a man that wasn’t fucking around, wouldn’t toss you to the side when he got busy. You told me that a romance with me sounded dangerous and that wasn’t what you were looking for but I couldn’t let you slip away like that so I asked you to let me prove that I could be that for you.”

You both laugh gently, remembering the first encounter that started all of this.

“I’ve been here trying to prove it to you, trying to be the perfect gentleman that you deserve, trying not to rush you, waiting for you to tell me you were ready. You didn’t say anything until tonight. And no, I’m not an idiot, I saw you starting to flirt more openly with me, I noticed you opening up about things, things becoming more intimate, but I swore I wouldn’t cross that line until the day you told me I could. If it’s just the logistics of it, that’s something we can work out, we’re both pretty smart people, I just need you to be honest with me.” He smiles softly at you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Please kiss me.” You whimper, if your brain wasn’t processing all his words at a thousand miles an hour in the moment you may have cared about how you sounded, but after his speech all you wanted was his lips on yours.

“Is that your official way of telling me I can cross the line? That you’ll actually consider this?” He asks, his face closer to yours but still needing that final confirmation.

“God yes Lewis, I want you, I want to be yours, I want you to be mine, I’m sorry.” You say quickly, grabbing his arms in an attempt to get him closer.

“No need to apologize, beautiful girl.” The words leave his lips softly before they press against yours.

The second you feel his warm lips and their gentle touch, you melt. You feel complete the second he’s kissed you, unsure why you fought it for so long. His grip on your face is steady, grounding, everything you need. He pulls away much too quickly for your liking, keeping the kiss sweet, too PG for what you’re craving desperately. You chase his lips making him release a giggle that only causes you to pout.

“So you approve, huh?” He teases you, his hands coming down to rest on your waist.

“Oh shush, acting like you didn’t love it too.” You say, your pout morphing into a smirk that you can’t contain.

“I didn’t say I didn’t.” He says, leaning back into your lips.

This time he’s slightly less hesitant, his lips moving against yours gently. You can tell he’s holding back still but you're just too pleased to care, only causing excitement of what's to come when he’s less restrained.

“You know, two hours ago you were ready to rail me and now you’re being almost shy with the kisses.” You laugh at him when you finally pull away for air.

“Ssshhh, I’m just getting used to the territory.” He teases you, placing another peck to your lips.

“About that whole you picking me up to bring me back here and ya know…” You trail off, hoping he gets the hint of where you’d like the evening to go.

He lets out a sigh, pinching your hip before speaking, “I know, but not tonight. Just feel like we need to take a second.”

You pout at him again to which he just chuckles, pecking your pout sweetly.

“You’re the one who wanted to take it slow.” He points out.

“You’re the one who told me I was supposed to get laid tonight.” You throw back at him.

“Well you were the one with her foot on my cock.” He says, his eyebrows raised.

You gulp, the word tumbling from his mouth making your stomach coil in a much different way than earlier in the night.

“I-” You start, all the sudden feeling shy.

“Hmmm, cats got your tongue?” He jests.

“Well you were all ready to fuck me tonight but you wouldn’t even kiss me without explicit consent.” You blurt out, trying to call him on his contradiction.

“Fair point, but you were driving me to a new level of insanity at dinner tonight and I thought I was getting the message loud and clear.” He says calmly, leaning back in to kiss you again.

You silently pray that maybe just maybe he’s going back on his word as his lips move against yours, that maybe he’s changed his mind and you’ll end up in his bed tonight, but much to your dismay he pulls away once again despite your attempts to lock him into you with your arms around his neck.

“I could get used to finally being allowed to kiss you.” He smirks.

“You could be doing a whole lot more than that, but no, you’re keeping up the whole stupid gentleman thing.” You say, irritation seeping through your words.

“You told me you wanted a gentleman.” He throws back with an eyebrow cocked, amusement clear on his face.

“Well you proved that part, I want the rest now.” You almost whine, locking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in. You find yourself annoyed for the first time by how strong he is when he doesn't move, never before being anything other than pleased by the godlike muscles under his skin.

He simply laughs at you, noticing that you're still a tiny bit tipsy, more unrestrained than usual.

“Alright, well you’ve already become a koala, how about I carry you to bed.” He chuckles, finally moving closer to you, only to pick you up.

You feel weightless and safe in his arms, quickly deciding you would let him carry you anywhere forever, a fact that you apparently accidentally state out loud in your still slightly inebriated state.

“Oh yeah? Well you let me know where you want to be carried and I’ve got you babe.” He simply chuckles as he walks toward the guest room, finding your admission endearing. All you can do is hide your blushing face in the crook of his neck.

When he finally plops you down on the mattress of the guest room you manage to pull him down into a kiss once again, one of his hands finding your waist as the other props him up above you. His lips move slower against yours this time, becoming slightly more explorative as you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip. You open your mouth, welcoming him eagerly, the taste of him on your tongue is intoxicating. You take one last chance at what you’ve been dying for for months, moving your hand down from his neck to slip beneath the button down that is draped over his skin. You take your time to explore the solid ridges of muscle bulging beneath soft skin, you can imagine every tattoo that your hand brushes against but you wish nothing more than to actually see them. You can’t help but moan into his mouth when you feel his grip on your waist tighten as you touch him. The sound does something to him, you can feel his whole body tense beneath your touch as you make your way to his back, raking your nails lightly down the skin.

“Please Lew, want you so bad.” You whisper against his lips.

He pulls away from you with such urgency that you're convinced he’s about to say no again. He stands tall next to you, staring at you for a moment, just taking in the sight before him. You're laid on his guest bed, your hair strewn against the pillows with your short cocktail dress riding up your thighs. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes, you wish for nothing more than to know what he’s thinking at that moment.

“Fucking hell,” He sighs and you begin to accept defeat, “yeah, okay, yeah, I can’t act like I’m not dying here anymore, but not here.”

You feel giddy the moment you hear his words, not processing what he meant by ‘not here’ until you're being scooped up bridal style, taking you by surprise.

“Lewis, we were in a bed.” You laugh, leaning in to place soft kisses against his neck that have him faltering in his steps.

“Yeah we were, but mine is much better and if this is happening you’re staying with me for the night.” He states as calmly as he can despite the tension flowing through his body.

It's a short walk before you’re once again being placed on a bed and you have to admit he was right, his bed is much better. You whine when you feel him move away making him laugh at just how needy you are.

“Patience baby girl, gotta find a light so I can see just how amazing you look when I make you cum.” His voice is teasing but serious, making your body flood with anticipation.

Within seconds he’s flicked on a warm light, a lamp by the side of his bed, just enough so you can see him as he stands next to you finishing undoing the last few buttons of his shirt. Your mouth goes dry when he shrugs it down his shoulders and you become nervous at how you might react to seeing him fully naked. It’s not that you haven’t seen Lewis shirtless before, it’s the knowledge that now you get to touch him, you know that his skin will very soon be pressed against yours, and it's driving you insane. You reach out toward him, your hand finding the skin just above his pants before he grabs your wrist.

“What did I just say Y/N?” He says lowly as he moves over you once again, “patience.”

“Been waiting so long Lewis, I don’t have any left.” You whine, your hips bucking up towards him when he presses a kiss just below your ear.

“Mmmm,” He hums through a chuckle before his voice turns thoughtful, “how do you think i feel? Been waiting a hell of a lot longer sweet girl. I gotta savour this.”

His lips tracing your neck are teasing, just enough contact to make you squirm but not enough to satisfy the carnal need brewing inside of you. His hands feel larger than ever before as they trace over your body, groping you in spots you never knew would emit such a reaction from you. He hasn't even taken off your dress yet and he has you a whimpering mess, your hands grasping onto his bare torso. You can feel the smirk of satisfaction on his face as he kisses down your throat, his hands finally reaching for the straps of your dress.

“Do you step in or is there a zipper?” He suddenly asks, taking you by surprise as he pulls away for a moment.

“Huh?” You shake your head, trying your best to come out of the absolute daze he had just put you in.

“Your dress.” He clarifies, not that it helps you any.

“Yeah? What about it?” You ask again, eager to have his lips on you again and still not fully back in your brain.

He smiles, laughing lightly as he shakes his head, “Your dress, did you just step into it or is there a zipper I need to find. It’s so pretty, don’t wanna ruin it.” His hands are massaging your hips as he speaks, not doing much to help you actually process his question.

“Um, there’s a zipper on the side, why did you-” Your question is cut off by his lips on yours once again.

“I’m in fashion baby, I’m familiar.” He mumbles against your lips as his fingers find the zipper, gracefully undoing it before his hands are back at the straps of the dress. Once again he pauses, “You absolutely sure?”

“Positive Lewis, I want this so much.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice firm so he has no further need to question you and delay what you're so desperately seeking.

The moment he hears the words leave your lips he’s back in action, his hands lowering the straps of your dress and pushing it down your body. You become very aware of the fact that you chose to go without a bra for the dress when you see his wide eyes staring at your chest. You almost feel shy but the way he’s looking at you takes any hesitation away. Once he’s taken in his view, he’s leaning down, peppering kisses across your whole chest. You can’t help but moan his name at the feeling of his lips on your skin, your grip on the back of his neck tightening. You almost explode when you feel his warm mouth wrap around your sensitive bud, his thumb brushing gently, teasingly over the other. You aren’t sure how you will be able to actually take it when you get to what you are dying for. You are writhing beneath him, spurring him on with every little whimper he pulls out of you.

“God, the little sounds you make, fucking music.” He murmurs against your skin as his kisses begin to trail lower, making his way down your abdomen.

When he finally reaches your hip you think you truly lose your mind. The one and only thought you can muster is ‘Lewis’. He takes his time, kissing across your pelvic bone, moving lower and kissing down the tops of your thighs. Finally he begins his ascent back up, nibbling on your inner thighs as he does, this tongue tracing circles against your skin that you have a desperate need to feel elsewhere, somewhere he’s been neglecting so far. Finally his fingers hook into the band of your thong, a lacey one you chose specifically for tonight, hoping this would happen finally. He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking to yours for a final confirmation.

“Please.” You breath out, lifting your hips to help him remove the tiny piece of fabric.

“Fuck Y/N” He says, just as breathless as you as he takes in the sight before him. He’s looking at you with the same admiration that he had when he took your dress off.

His thumb brushes gently against your folds, enough to make you shiver and moan but not nearly enough to satisfy the desire deep in your bones. You move your hips closer to him, earning a faint chuckle but thankfully he takes the queue, parting you open for himself so he can admire the aching bundle of nerves he’s dying to pull into his mouth. He strokes against you gently, just a few flicks before his thumb is trailing down to your opening, swiping up the wetness that is pooling.

“You’re making a mess, baby.” He tells you, his voice smug.

“Well, do something about it.” You snap back at him, your brattiness coming back with full force.

“Yes ma’am.” He laughs, giving you a playful salute that makes you want to slap him.

All your annoyance however is washed away in an instant when his lips finally suction around your mound, shocking you in a way you didn't know was possible. A loud moan leaves your mouth against your will, your hands moving to grab his bedsheets in an attempt to ground yourself. He groans against you, his tongue flicking in the perfect pattern, the combination sending you onto another planet.

“Oh fuck.” You squeal when he grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders, diving in deeper and closer than he was before.

His mouth trails down, his nose still bumping against your clit as his tongue prods at your entrance, tasting every bit of you he can. His hands are tight on your hips, keeping you in place to pleasure you exactly how he wants. You can feel your stomach tightening, it’s embarrassingly quick you fear, but then he’s slipping a finger into you, his lips latching around your nerves.

“C’mon baby, I can feel it coming, give it to me.” He mumbles against you, the vibrations going through your spine.

You moan loudly, feeling the tension in your body rise. You’re a writhing mess, no longer able to be anchored by the arm draped across your stomach with little purpose. Just when you think you’re about to hit your peak you feel a second finger slip inside you, the pair hooking in the perfect motion that makes you crumble. You’re shaking as you moan loudly, your vision becoming blurry and your ears ringing as you come undone. His fingers never stop their torment, working you through it to ride out the high. When you finally come back into yourself Lewis is kissing along your thighs and leaving soft kisses to your overly sensitive core, his tongue dipping into you every now and again with a smirk.

“That feel okay?” He asks you when he finally sees you watching him, his tone dripping with the ever cocky ego of his.

“Oh shut up.” You giggle, pushing at his head as you burrow your head into the pillow next to you.

“Hey, c’mon now, don’t try to hide from me.” His voice is much closer than it was before and when you turn your head he’s directly above you, hovering over your face with a blissful smile that makes your heart clench.

“Don’t go getting too big of an ego, I needed a good fuck.” You giggle before his lips come down to meet yours.

“Mmmm, well first of all, just so you know, you taste divine and you look immaculate when you come,” He begins, mumbling against your lips before he trails down to your neck, “second of all, you haven’t gotten the good fuck yet darling,” With that he pulls away to look you dead in the eyes, “think you can handle that? Dying to know how incredible you feel.”

Within seconds you’ve gone from content mush to a horny animal again. You don’t know how your brain let you forget about the best part, you needed to feel him.

“Yes, oh my god please.” You breathe out, bordering on begging but you couldn’t care less in the world in that moment.

Your hands begin to move blindly, trying to find his belt buckle but just fumbling with nothing as you get distracted kissing him once again. He smiles, a genuine kind smile as he pulls away from you, sitting back on his heels to undo his pants himself. There’s something about the genuine happiness on his face that makes your heart clench and your stomach flip. He doesn’t just want a quick fuck, he wants you, he’s happy that its you. It’s not the cocky grin of a man who sweet talked some chick into his bed, it’s the genuine smile of a man who finally has the girl he’s been pining over for a year in front of him and finally on the same page. You’re only left to dwell on how much this means to him, to the both of you, for a mere moment, because soon he is lowering his pants and you catch your first proper glimpse of the prominent bulge threatening to burst his boxer briefs. You can’t hide your reaction, your eyes going wide when you see the size of it. You want to slap yourself, you should have known, you should have been prepared. Not only does the man exude ‘big dick energy’ in every thing that he does and says, he is usually sporting a bulge on the day to day without being hard. He clocks your reaction, a warm chuckle reverberating through his chest.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, his voice soft, catching on to your genuine hesitation.

“Can I see it?” You ask and immediately want to take it back, you feel like a teenager afraid of seeing a dick for the first time.

He laughs softly, kicking off his pants fully before leaning down to kiss you again.

“Of course, you can see it, touch it, measure it, inspect it however you want before you decide.” His words are punctuated by kisses, carrying a teasing lilt with every one.

“Stop, it’s just, your ego obviously doesn’t need it, but it looks bigger than what I’m used to.” You whine, your voice becoming shy as you attempt to dodge his kisses in embarrassment.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” The tease has left his tone, his voice soft and serious now, “we only do whatever you can handle, okay?”

You finally look back at him, embarrassed by your shock. The beautiful brown eyes that you meet hold nothing but sincerity, helping your nerves immensely.

“We’ll go slow, yeah?” He prompts, squeezing your thigh.

You nod, wanting desperately to connect with him that intimately. It’s been a desire burning within you for so long now you can't fathom possibly backing out, you know he’ll take care of you.

“You wanna touch it first?” He asks, his voice sincere but still causing you to laugh, making him join in with you, “Hey, I’m serious, maybe it’ll help.” You can hear the seriousness in his voice behind his giggles.

“Okay, yeah, actually that might help.” You admit, your laughter finally quieting down.

When he rids himself of his boxers you almost go through the same shock again. Firstly because of just how large he is, he’s longer than anyone else you've ever seen and so girthy you’re not sure you will be able to wrap your hand around him. Secondly because there he is, naked in all his glory, his strong thighs proudly showing muscles you could never dream of having, his beautiful torso adorned with intricate images and abs that have made you drool since the first time you saw him without a shirt.Your desire for the man in front of you quickly overtakes any hesitation you’d previously had, quickly sitting up to grab him and pull him towards you, crashing your lips against his. He moans into your mouth as your tongue dances across his. You take all your lust and turn it into gumption, reaching down and gently brushing your hand along his cock. His grip on you tightens and an almost pained whimper leaves his mouth as you do so. You take that as a good sign, reaching in between your own legs to get your fingers wet before wrapping your hand properly around his cock, stroking him gently. A groan leaves his throat as he forcefully pulls his lips away from you.

“There’s no way you just did what I think you did, is there?” He asks you, his eyes blown out, crazed with lust and disbelief.

You just giggle, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, leaning in again to catch his lip. He lets you stroke him for only a moment before he’s pulling away and grabbing your wrist.

“It feels amazing babe, but if you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” He tells you earnestly, his forehead resting against yours as he breathes heavily.

“Well I kinda thought that was the point of this whole thing.” You giggle at him, knowing exactly what he wants but enjoying getting to tease him if only for a moment.

“The point,” He begins, pushing you down to the bed by your hips so he is hovering over you again, “is that I would rather be inside you when I do.” His words are muffled against your skin as he kisses down your neck, your brain short circuiting.

“Please.” You breathe out for what feels like the hundredth time of the night.

“I got you.” He murmurs, your legs locking around his waist.

You feel his bulbous head trailing through your folds, collecting your wetness. You almost feel as if it must be a dream, there's no way you finally got this lucky. Then you feel the slightest bit of pressure at your opening, he's not even inside you yet and you gasp.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, we’ll go slow, you just keep telling me how you feel, okay?” He whispers in your ear.

You nod and the second he’s sure you want it you feel him pushing forward, the stretch stinging and feeling like too much yet also feeling absolutely perfect. He only thrusts about a quarter of the way in before he’s pausing.

“How you feelin’ baby girl?” His voice is soothing but you can hear the strain as he asks the question. You need him to keep going, the momentary pain melting into ultimate satisfaction.

“More, oh my god, please.” You moan out.

He finally continues, pushing into you with such care it makes your heart burst. The way he’s handling you makes it evident that this isn’t just a fuck for him, it’s a coupling, He cares more about being close to you and your pleasure than he does the rest of it. When you feel his pelvis meet your clit you clench every muscle in your body, feeling fuller than ever before. He lets out a deep groan, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“You let me know when I can move sweetie, but you gotta relax for me. Okay?” You can hear the tension in his voice muffled against your neck, his lips moving against your skin.

You let out a breath, working through the overwhelming feeling of being so full of the man you care so deeply about, your body finally relaxing.

“Please move Lew, I need it.” You whimper out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That's my girl.” He says softly, his face just above yours with a soft smile as he begins to thrust.

Within moments he has found a pace that has your toes curling and your nails raking down his back. He is hitting every single spot you need him to, stretching you to the limit in the best way possible, working you to your peak in a shockingly quick manner. He’s not rough, he’s not fast, his movements are slow and languid. If he’s not staring directly into your eyes while he whispers sweet and filthy words to you, his lips are on yours as you swallow each other's moans. You’ve never been happier to have a vocal lover than Lewis, you can tell he is loving every single second, that he is overwhelmed with how good he feels. He’s not holding back a single moan, grunt, or groan and it’s only spurring on your pleasure. He sounds so good, looks so good, and feels so fucking good. You’ve never felt quite this all consumed by a man before, he is all that exists in the moment. He is leaning down on his forearms, his large biceps caging you in and it's all you can do not to lean over and bite them. His voice is in your ear when his tongue isn’t in your mouth, his heavy cock is splitting you in two with every perfectly aimed slow deliberate thrust, his pelvis is dragging across your clit giving you every ounce of pleasure you could ever need.You can already feel your toes clenching and your walls beginning to lock him in as you brace yourself in his shoulders.

“God, you feel fucking perfect, fucking made for me. My girl, all mine, huh?” His voice is rough as he talks to you, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes boring into yours.

You can only nod, tears slipping down your face as even moans refuse to escape your throat.

“That’s it baby, just feel it. Taking it like such a good girl.”

The tone of his voice and the dirty words tumbling from his lips have your stomach clenching, you know you’re almost there and so does he. His slow and steady pattern speeds up every so slightly, still keeping the same intimacy but increasing the obscene pleasure running through your body as his hand snakes down to properly rub at your clit.

“Let go for me Y/N, cum all over my cock, I’m right here, I’ve got you, lemme feel it.” His voice is strained but soothing as he talks you to your release.

Within seconds you let out a guttural moan, your whole body tensing as you feel the coil snap. The only word that can leave your mouth is his name, a chant of ‘Lewis’ leaving your tongue as your mind goes blank. You can faintly feel his thrusts falter before his own groan is matching yours, his head falling to your shoulder as thick ropes of cum lace your walls. You have no idea how long it is that you lay there on his bed completely limp. You have a faint memory of the whimper that left your lips when he finally pulled out of you. You know there was a moment of panic when you saw him begin to walk away but you were so blissed out that you ended up focusing on how good his ass looked. What you don’t know is how long it’s been since he left or how long you’ve been laying there, now all you can think about is how badly you want him back next to you. You try to move to sit up but quickly realize the best you can do is prop yourself up on your elbows. As you struggle, Lewis comes back into the room, holding a wet cloth and a glass of water, a smile across his face as he takes in the sight before him.

“You’ve been gone for forever.” You whine, unaware if it's even true or not, doing your best not to admire the fact that he is still stark naked in front of you.

“I’ve been gone for maybe two minutes,” He laughs, making his way towards you, “honestly didn’t even think you would notice, you seemed pretty content off in some bliss land.”

“Hey, that’s technically your fault.” You weakly argue, falling back onto the bed.

“A fault I will happily take,” He smirks, leaning down toward you and pressing his lips against yours, “again, and again, and again, and again.” Each declaration is sealed with a kiss, making you giggle and very weakly try to push him away.

He finally moves away from his assault of kisses, placing the water on the night stand next to you and moving to part your thighs which immediately makes you protest.

“Lew, it was amazing but I can’t.” You whine, squirming away from him.

“Baby,” He laughs, trying to stay sweet but far too amused by your sex drunk mood, “I wasn’t trying anything, I swear, just wanna clean you up because I think a shower is pretty far from your reality right now.”

“Oh.” You mutter, not used to any of your partners ever taking the time to take care of you afterwards. It was usually you realizing a little while later that you had to make sure you peed at the very least.

Lewis however makes sure to take extra care with you, one hand massaging your thigh as the other wipes the warm cloth against your skin. He does smirk when he reaches your core and sees you flinch the slightest bit, but even with your reaction he stays sweet and careful, caressing you in what can only be described as a loving manner. When he’s done, he throws the cloth carelessly onto the floor, something you would have thought would drive him insane, knowing he’s a tidy control freak. Instead of worrying about it, he runs his hands up your sides, kneading at your flesh in a way that somehow feels intimate but not sexual.

“Do you want to sleep like this? Or do you want some clothes?” He asks gently, placing a kiss to your stomach that once again manages to not feel suggestive somehow.

You can feel yourself getting shy. You know the answer he wants but you really want at least a t-shirt, something about sleeping naked has always made you feel weird. You hesitate for a moment, your answer apparently written all over your face because he just smiles and places another kiss against your skin before getting up and heading towards his closet.

“T-shirt or sweatshirt?” He calls out from within the closet, not an ounce of bother in his tone.

“Sweatshirt?” You answer, unsure of yourself.

“Boxers, shorts, or sweatpants?” He calls out again, unphased by your request.

“Is boxers weird?” You ask, still unsure.

“Nope!” He says, emerging from the closet, now wearing a pair of sweatpants low on his hips, his hand full of a stack of clothing for you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter as you sit up to take the clothing from him.

“Arms up,” He says, the sweatshirt above your head ready to dress you, making you giggle, “and why are you sorry for wanting to be comfy while you sleep?” His voice is muffled through the thick fabric of the sweatshirt that he places over your head.

“I’m sure you would have rathered, I said naked.” You admit as your head pops out the neck hole making him laugh.

“Sweetie, you’re in my bed, that’s all I need. Want you to be comfortable.” He says sincerely, a soft smile on his face as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Besides I’ve always been kinda convinced that monsters will grab me if I have a foot out from under my blanket so I can’t blame you for wanting to sleep in something.”

You can’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that, knowing that that was one of your childhood fears yet it still follows one of the most fearless men you know.

“Alright, ya gotta scooch this beautiful bum.” His instructions come out soft with a soft pat to your ass as he slides the boxers up your legs.

Everything about the moment feels so loving and playful, it’s hard to imagine that this man that is saying bum and telling you he’s afraid of monsters under the bed was making you see stars and become delirious mere minutes ago. This was a feeling you could definitely get used to. Once you were dressed, Lewis was prying the blankets out from under you, attempting to make room for himself in the bed, laughing at your lack of movement.

“Okay, first note to self, she’s a damn bed hog.” He said playfully once you were both in the sheets, his arm wrapping around you in an attempt to pull you as close as possible.

“Hey, you can’t possibly already be making a cons list, you wore me down like three hours ago.” You argue, half serious, as he maneuvers you so you’re laying against his chest as he hikes your leg up over his hips.

“Not a cons list, just a things to remember list.” He assures you softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Okay, I suppose I can live with that.” You huff playfully into his chest, your fingers tracing patterns along his pecs.

He hums in satisfaction, evidently enjoying your soft touch on his skin as you cuddle further into him.

“Hey Lewis.” You grab his attention, your voice muffled with your cheek smushed into his chest.

“Yeah baby?” His voice is tired as he massages the back of your head, his other hand tracing soothing patterns on your back underneath his stolen sweatshirt.

“We’re gonna make this work, right?” You ask him, your voice timid but needing to hear the confirmation before you can let yourself fall into a peaceful sleep.

“I’m going to do everything in my damn power Love, would never forgive myself for letting you slip away” He tells you seriously even though you can tell he’s beginning to drift off.

That’s all you needed to hear. You let yourself nestle even further into him than you thought was possible, beyond happy that you finally admitted that this was your man. Nothing could ever be perfect, and while your reservations may still have some validity, nothing was better than this beautiful man underneath you and you were prepared to fight like hell to keep him.

[loveesiren]

Help Me (Pt. 1)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader

Synopsis: When Rafe finds out Y/n's in trouble, he's determined to keep her safe.

Warnings: Language, drug use, fentanyl, mentions of sex trafficking, abuse, 18+

Word Count: 4.1k+

"I can stop whenever I want, Y/N, I'm just fucking stressed out, alright?"

You watch as Rafe leans down and takes another line before leaning back against his car seat and pressing his hands to his head.

Rafe was really the only friend you had made on the island so far. Besides JJ's friends of course. After your mom died you were forced to move back with your dad and JJ. You were ecstatic to see your little brother, but Luke was a different story. Nothing had changed. He was still an abusive, alcoholic, piece of shit, always taking his anger out on JJ.

That was not something you had shared with Rafe. In fact, he didn't even know you were a Pogue, much less related to JJ.

You had a job at the club. One night after your shift you wandered down to the beach to sit by the water. Thats where you found Rafe Cameron passed out drunk in the sand. You helped him home and gave him your number. Ever since then, the two of you met up practically every night. He'd pick you up after work and the two of you would go to the beach and talk. You loved spending time with him. He made you laugh and smile and forget the hell that awaited you at home. But you knew he was king of the Kooks and hated the Pogues. You knew you couldn't hide that fact forever but you really didn't want to lose him over something so stupid.

"I don't like seeing you kill yourself, Rafe." You told him softly, choking back tears. Your mother had just died from a drug overdose not even 2 months ago.

"Then don't watch." He told you dryly as he set up another line on the center console.

You scoffed. He's never talked to you like that before. "You know my mom died because of this shit?" You yelled at him. "And cuz of that I have to move to this shit island and deal with my dad beating on my brother and I all day?"

He looked up at you, concern in his eyes now. "I-I didn't know you had a brother. You've never even told me about your family."

You sighed, clenching your jaw. "Yeah," You said before pulling back your hoodie to reveal the bruises forming around your neck.

"Y/N..." He said as he reached out, placing his fingers gently on your collar bone. You flinched at his touch.

"And JJ gets it a lot worse." You stated as you grabbed your things. Rafe was silent, taking in the new information. You were JJ's sister?

You hopped out of his truck, leaving him with the secrets you'd just revealed to him, knowing good and well this was probably the end of you and Rafe Cameron.

"I'm a Pogue," You said calmly, shrugging your shoulders with a half smile before slamming the door and walking off towards the Cut.

——————–

Rafe noticed you immediately as he entered Midsummers. You were working the bar tonight but because of the event, you were a lot more dressed up than usual. A tight black dress hugged your curves. Your wavy hair pulled back in a half pony. He noticed the diamonds draped around your neck. You looked nothing like a Pogue. He could also see the slight discoloration of the bruises you had tried to cover with make up. He wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't seen them for himself the other night.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment as he watched how elegantly you moved and interacted with others. How the hell was she a Maybank? He thought to himself.

You met Rafe's eyes for a moment. He didn't seem fucked up. He seemed concerned. You bit your lip for a moment before turning away, not offering him a smile or anything. You had avoided talking to him for a few days. As much as you missed him, you couldn't risk getting close to someone who used drugs to cope. Weed never bothered you. You'd even have a beer once in a while. But after everything you and JJ witnessed growing up, you knew how badly the outcome could be.

Rafe was standing around with Kelce and Topper, sipping on a cocktail when he noticed JJ making his way through the crowd. "Shit," He whispered under his breath as he noticed the bruise surrounding JJ's left eye.

"Well, well, well," Kelce said, stepping out in front of JJ, catching him by surprise. "I'd love if you could get me a mai tai, my friend."

"Yeah, see I'm kind of on the clock right now but if you guys just wanna wait by the bar-" JJ said before taking off in the crowd.

You darted your eyes towards the locker rooms as you saw your brother running through the sea of people, Rafe, Kelce, and the rest of their posse chasing him. "What the fuck," You said to yourself. JJ was not supposed to be here.

"Hey, Jesse!" You leaned over to your coworker. "Can you run the bar for a minute? I gotta use the bathroom."

"Sure thing," He responds and you made your way towards the locker rooms.

You had just reached the door when JJ was being dragged out by security. "What the hell is going on here?!" You ask.

"Tell your sister she's pretty hot for a Pogue!" You hear Rafe's voice call out after JJ.

JJ quickly slips away from the security guard and rushes towards him. "JJ!" You said as you and the security guard pull him back.

Rafe's eyes go wide as they meet yours. He wasn't expecting to see you, immediately regretting what he just said.

"What the fuck, Rafe?!" You said, storming towards him. You slapped him across the face as hard as you could. But before you knew it, Kelce had pushed you to the ground.

As a second security guard began to pull you away from the scene you saw Rafe slam Kelce up against a wall and scream at him, although you couldn't make out what he was saying as you were dragged away.

You and JJ were thrown out in front of the entire party. JJ helping you to your feet as you fell in the grass.

"Don't you EVER FUCKING TOUCH HER AGAIN!" Rafe screamed in Kelce's face, pinning him against the wall by his neck.

"What the fuck dude?! She's just some fucking Pogue!" Kelce responded.

"Never fucking again. Do you understand me?" Rafe said, eyes locked on Kelce. Kelce nodded in agreement.

Rafe took a deep breath before pushing off of Kelce and heading outside.

He watched as you stumbled away with your brother.

"Fuck, JJ!" You said as you walked along the beach. John B, Kiara, and Pope trailing behind you. "What the fuck was that?! I just lost my goddamn job!"

"I did nothing!" He yelled back at you. "It's those fucking Kooks!"

"Why the hell were you even there in the first place?!"

JJ was silent.

"Is this about your little treasure hunt again?" You asked, aiming your question at the group. They all stayed silent. "Great. That's just great. Leave me the hell out of it!" You said as you stormed off, making your way home.

You were almost to your house when your phone buzzed. A text from Rafe.

Y/N, I'm sorry. Can we please talk?

You rolled your eyes and shut off your phone.

You took a deep breath before you headed inside. Your dad was still up. Fuck. He was wasted as usual.

"Hey Princess," He mumbled. Your stomach turned at his words. You always hated when he called you that.

"I'm going to bed," You said dryly as you headed toward your room. Luke grabbed your arm and spun you back towards him.

"Now that's no way to greet your daddy, is it?"

His breath smelled like whiskey and cigarettes. The scent made you gag. "Get off me!" You yell, shoving him backwards.

He grabbed you by your neck and threw you against the wall. "You don't fuckin' talk to me like that you little bitch." He said through gritted teeth. "You're a slut just like your momma!"

You spat in his face and he punched you in the side of the head. He continued to hit you several more times until you were a bloody heap on the floor, barely conscious.

You could feel yourself being dragged across the floor and placed roughly on the couch.

"Ya know," Luke started. You were barely able to register his words. "I bet I could make a real pretty penny off of you."

Your eyes fluttered slightly as you tried to catch your breath. You saw him stick his hunting knife into a small plastic bag. He came over and grabbed your chin, forcing you to open your mouth.

"Here ya go, Princess." He said as he forced your mouth open and pressed the tip of his knife to you tongue. "I gotta go make some calls. You just wait riiiight here." He said as you quickly felt your head start to get heavy.

"Dad, please..." You begged before the familiar feeling of fentanyl took over your body.

______________

"What the fuck did you do?!" JJ yelled at his dad as he saw your motionless body on the couch.

"Ya know yer sister has a real mouth on her," Luke spat.

JJ had his fingers pressed to your neck, barely able to find your pulse.

"Did you fucking drug her?!"

"It's none of your concern boy! Now get the hell out of here I have someone pickin' 'er up in 20 minutes." Luke said as he walked to the kitchen to make another drink.

JJ's eyes widened. "What do you mean picking her up?"

Luke was silent.

"Dad...did-did you fucking sell her?" JJ muttered.

JJ couldn't contain his rage anymore as he picked a beer bottle up off the table and threw it at the back of his dads head.

"Fuck!" Luke said as glass shattered against his skin. He didn't even have time to turn around before JJ had already pushed him to the floor, landing punches to the side of his head over and over again. Blood coated JJ's face and the walls as he took out all his pent up rage on his father.

The way he'd abused you guys your whole lives. Beating you, drugging you, and now going as far as to sell his own daughter to make a quick buck. He couldn't take it anymore.

Luke was barely clinging to consciousness when JJ finally let go of him.

He stood over his father as he tried to slow his breathing and think of his next move. "Fuck," He whispered to himself as he ran his shaking hand through his blonde locks. "Fuck, okay.."

He quickly pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

JB: Hello?

JJ: John B! I-I need your help man!

JB: What's going on?

JJ: I'll explain later just please come pick us up.

JB: Us?

JJ: Me and Y/N, man, PLEASE!

JB: I'm on my way!

JJ tried his best not to hyperventilate as he made his way over to you. "Come on, Y/N, please wake up!" He begged, shaking you lightly. He could see all the bruising and blood that coated your body and he didn't want to risk hurting you further.

He got up and paced around the room as he waited for John B. He spotted the clear baggie on the table and picked it up. He flicked it as he examined the small amount of white powder. He knew it wasn't coke. "Fuck!" He yelled, unsure of how much you had consumed. This wasn't the first time your dad had drugged you. He'd done it when you were kids to get you to sleep. JJ prayed he didn't overdo it as tears fell from his eyes.

His head snapped up as he heard a car pulling up out front. He inched the curtain of the doors window to the side, expecting to see John B. It wasn't.

A black Lincoln parked in front of the house and shut off the lights. "Shiiiit!" JJ whispered in a panic. He ran over to your and gently scooped your small frame into his arms, cradling your head against his chest. "I got you, sis." He said as he quietly made his way towards the back door.

He made his way through the trees as he heard two men talking as they approached the house. He moved quietly toward the road when he spotted the Twinkie. He ran out in front of it, John B swerving to avoid hitting them before coming to a quick stop.

Kiara slid the door open to let him in. "Holy shit, what happened?!" She asked, terror in her voice as she looked over the wounds coating your unconscious body.

"My dad," JJ choked out. "He-he was gonna sell her." He was sobbing now as he laid your body down gently, resting your head on a pillow.

"What?" Kiara and John B said in unison.

"He drugged her and beat her and these two guys showed up and I grabbed her and ran. I-I don't even know what to do. The things they were going to do to her..." He trailed off, unable to bare the thought. He pulled his knees to his chest and sobbed more.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Kiara said softly as she rubbed JJ's back.

"No! No hospitals. I'll call my cousin." JJ said as he took out his phone. "Just go back to the Chateau."

______________

JJ chewed on his finger as he paced around the room.

Ricky checked over you one more time. "She's alive." He finally said. "And she'll be okay."

JJ sighed in relief, as did John B, Kiara, and Pope.

"She has a concussion. I was able to stitch up these two cuts," He said as motioned to the one on the side of your head and on your collar bone. "She's going to be out for a while but he didn't give her a lethal dose."

"Thank you, Ricky." JJ said. "Seriously."

Ricky offered him a smile. "I always liked her more than you," He chuckled as he stood up and patted JJ on the shoulder. "If you need anything else, just give me a call."

JJ nodded. "Thanks, man."

______________

You were still out cold when the Pogues woke up.

"What time is it?" Pope asked groggily as he rubbed his eyes.

"11:30," Kiara responded with a sigh.

JJ stood up and pulled on his boots.

"Where are you going?" John B asked.

"Gotta get some stuff from my place," He said before leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead. "Keep an eye on her, I'll be back in an hour."

"Okay," John B responded.

"Call me if she wakes up!" JJ yelled as he ran out the door.

JJ sighed as he adjusted the gun in his waist band. Making sure he would be able to grab it if needed. He stood in front of his house, the front door was wide open.

He walked in slowly. Scanning over his home in search of his dad. "Dad?" He asked softly. There was no response. He wasn't sprawled out in a bloody heap on the floor where JJ had left him the night before.

The house was quiet and when JJ was sure there was no one inside he headed toward your room. He grabbed a duffle bag out of your closet and started shoving as many clothes in it as possible. He grabbed a book that lay on your bedside table. He also grabbed your purse knowing all your important items would be in there. When he was done, he threw the bag over his shoulder. He was about to head out when something caught his eye.

He picked up the gold chain that lay on your dresser. A small locket attached to it. He popped it open to find a picture of your mother. He smiled. You looked so much like the woman she used to be before drugs took over her life. He noticed the picture in the other side of the locket. It was a picture of the two of you when you were kids. He brushed his thumb over the small picture as he remembered that day. You taught him to build sand castles and make jewelry out of shells you found on the beach. He remembers how well you were able to distract him from the sound of your parents fighting.

"Y/N!"

JJ snapped out of the memory as someone knocked on the front door, yelling your name. He shoved the necklace in his pocket and grabbed his gun.

He rounded the corner, pointing the gun at the intruder.

"Fuck!" Rafe said as he turned around and noticed JJ pointing the gun directly at him. "Chill dude," Rafe said as he put his arms up in defense. "I'm not here to start anything."

"Why are you here, Rafe?" JJ asked, still pointing the gun in his direction.

"I'm looking for Y/N,"

"Why?"

"I just wanted to talk to her about last night. Apologize." He lowered his hands as JJ lowered the gun. "And I think I can get her her job back."

JJ looked down at his feet. "She's not here," He said as he pushed past Rafe and out the front door.

"Well, do you know where she is?" Rafe asked as he followed him. "Look, JJ, I'm sorry about last night. I really am. But I care about Y/N."

"Rafe!" JJ yelled as he turned to face him. "Look, man, just-just go home, okay? We've got shit to deal with." JJ snapped.

Rafe looked him in the eyes, his brows furrowed. "I-is she okay?" His voice was soft.

JJ could feel tears forming in his eyes, but he wouldn't dare cry in front of Rafe. "Go home, Rafe." His words were quiet but firm as he turned around and stormed off.

Rafe ran his fingers through his hair. Nausea creeped through his body as he began to worry. What happened to you? He was beating himself up over the way he had treated you. You were the only person to actually care about him. That scared him and he pushed you away. Now he was scared he would never get the chance to tell you how he really felt.

_______________

Rafe chewed on his thumb nail as he made his way up to his room. He paused when he heard Sarah on the phone. He leaned closer to her door trying to make out what she was saying.

"He was going to sell her?! Like to traffickers?!"

Rafe's breath hitched. Was she talking about Y/N?

"Is she awake yet?"

There was silence. Rafe still held his breath.

"Well, we can bring her to Tanneyhill. She'll be safe here."

Rafe waited a few more moments.

"Alright, I'll be there soon." Sarah said before hanging up the phone.

"Fuck," Rafe whispered as he leaned his back to the wall and pressed his palms to his eyes.

Sarah opened the door and jumped at the unexpected sight of her brother. "What are you doing?" She asked him.

"Sarah, was that about Y/N?" He asked as he pointed down to her phone.

"Are you listening to my conversations?!" She asked, irritation in her voice.

"Sarah. Sarah!" Rafe yelled, squeezing his eyes shut and lowering his hand slowly to try and calm down. "Is Y/N hurt?"

"Why do you care, Rafe? I thought you hated Pogues."

His eyes began to water. "Is she hurt?" His voice cracked.

Sarah's expression softened. She nodded softly. "Yeah, Rafe. She is. And she's not safe, we need to bring her here."

"Where is she?" He asked, already fishing his keys out of his pocket and headed down the stairs.

"She's at John B's." She replied, following him quickly.

Rafe and Sarah both climbed into his truck. He turned it on and quickly threw it into drive as he sped off towards the Cut.

"Tell me what happened, Sarah." Rafe demanded.

Sarah had never seen her brother like this and it frightened her.

"Uhm, I don't know everything just that her dad beat her and drugged her when she got home. When JJ found her she was unconscious and her dad was getting ready to sell her off to some men. JJ got her out of there right when they showed up." She explained.

Rafe clenched his fists around the steering wheel as he sped faster towards John B's. Sarah gripped her seat tighter, nervous at the speed they were accelerating to.

Rafe pulled up in front of John B's house and quickly threw the truck into park before hopping out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," John B said as he watched Rafe quickly approach his house. Pope stood behind him, ready to fight if need be. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"He just wants to help," Sarah said, standing between Rafe and John B.

"Where is she?" Rafe's voice was shaky.

John B stared at him for a moment before nodding towards the door. "On the couch," He said.

Rafe pushed past him and went inside, immediately seeing your bruised unconscious figure laying flat on the couch. Kiara had just put you into sweats and a t-shirt before using a warm rag to wipe away the rest of the blood from your wounds.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked as she turned to Rafe.

"Fuck," Rafe cried softly as he fell to his knees beside you and Kiara, taking your hand gently in his and putting it to his cheek.

"What the fuck?" Kiara mouthed to John B as him and Sarah came inside. John B just shrugged with wide eyes, equally confused as the rest of them.

"John B do you have like any clean-" JJ began as he entered the room. "What the fuck are you doing here, Rafe?" JJ spat when he saw Rafe kneeling by your body. "Get the fuck away from my sister!" He said, lunging towards him.

Rafe fell back and held his hands up. "I just wanna help!" He yelled. JJ paused as he saw Rafe crying. "Please," He whispered. "Let me help her." He begged.

"We can take her to Tanneyhill." Sarah chimed in. "Our parents will be gone for the rest of the week. She can recover there. And whoever is looking for her won't find her."

JJ thought for a moment, biting his lip. "Okay." He agreed, realizing that would be the safest place for you while he sorted all of this out. "Let's take her there now." He said as he went to lift your off the couch.

"Grab her shit," JJ said to Rafe as he nodded at the bag beside him. Rafe did as he was told.

Rafe ran out of the house and opened the door to the back seat. JJ climbed inside with you, resting your head on his lap. When Rafe was sure you were safely in the truck he jumped in the drivers seat. Sarah climbed in the passenger seat and the rest of the Pogues got in the bed of the truck.

You could make out voices around you but you couldn't get your eyes to open. The voices were familiar. "JJ?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here," He said as he ran his fingers through your hair.

"Is she up?" Rafe asked, constantly glancing back at you in the rearview mirror.

"Barely," JJ replied.

Rafe chewed on his bottom lip the whole drive back to his house. Once he pulled into the driveway, everyone was quick to help you out. Sarah guided them to the large spare bedroom and JJ laid you gently on the bed.

_____________

That night, Sarah started a fire in the fire pit out back. The Pogues sat around drinking beer and laughing. Rafe, however, never left your side. He sat in the chair next to your bed, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest as you slept peacefully.

"How do you know her?"

Rafe looked up to see JJ leaning against the doorway, beer in hand as he examined your state.

"She, uh..." Rafe began. "We met a couple months ago. Never met anyone like her before."

JJ nods his head. "She's a good person. Smart as shit too. Which makes me surprised she hung out with you."

Rafe chuckles and runs his tongue across his bottom lip. "Yeah, she's, uhm, special. The only person that's ever really given a fuck about me."

JJ was silent as he came to the other side of your bed, running a light finger over the stitches on your face.

"I was a dick," Rafe spoke up. "I fucked things up and I need to make them right. I mean, I-I just can't believe this happened."

"Well, I can't make her forgive you. And quite frankly, she's too good for you. But," JJ began. "I need to go find dear old dad and make sure she's going to be safe. Can I trust that you'll keep her safe here?"

Rafe nodded eagerly. "Yeah, of course. Anything I can do to help."

JJ studied Rafe's expression for a moment. He was being genuine. As much as JJ hated Rafe, he could tell the feelings he had for his sister were real and trusted that she'd be safe in his care.

[strwberri-milk]

Hello I hope you're doing well.

I swear your Fics get me through the day❤️

I love the way you write about the boys!

I have a (sort of angsty I think) request:

How do you think each of them will handle/what they're gonna do if they aren't exactly the reader's/MC's type? Like, they're not in a relationship with MC yet, and they're in the stage where they're starting to court MC, and then they find out that MC's type is like their exact opposite, and that's where they sort of notice MC doesn't really consider them as a potential partner because of this

Zayne has never really thought that his feelings for you have been reciprocated. Somehow, it slips his mind to think that you could ever like him, especially since he's seen the types of people you had crushes on growing up. He'd never ask you on a date because of this, happy enough to stay your friend. That's why he was so surprised when you asked him on a date, the happiness in his chest dissipating as he began to realise that you simply didn't seem to have it in you to love him as much as he loves you.

His response is simply to break things off. He tells you not to try and force yourself onto him, that if you don't like him you don't have to pretend you do to fulfill some sort of perceived expectation you think he has. He doesn't really let the conversation progress further than that, moving past it. The two of you end up never really being the same, still able to be friends and hang out together but there's always something just bubbling under the surface.

Xavier doesn't realise what's wrong until he sees the way you look at other people. You do your best not to stray while you're sort of with Xavier but you also haven't had a conversation about exclusivity yet, despite the fact that he is wholly devoted to you. He doesn't entertain the idea of breaking things off, not thinking that things were that bad.

You end up breaking things off, telling him that it's really nothing he's done to you. You just didn't know how to feel, struggling to move into more romantic feelings for him. He takes it surprisingly well you think, acting as though things are totally normal. You don't realise that he's become even quieter than usual, not really taking team missions anymore and going out of his way to avoid you. He doesn't know how to cope with his feelings for you and a desire to make you happy, ending up further into avoidance.

Rafayel is devastated. He can tell immediately that you don't really like him, not in the same way you seem to like other people. A part of him wants to delude himself into thinking that maybe it's just a phase, that you'd eventually fall for him the way that literally everybody else seems to. The other part of him is angry, incredibly so. He doesn't like the idea of you messing with his feelings, being cold to you before you can reject him.

The two of you just end up drifting apart. He doesn't return your calls or messages anymore, internally begging for your attention but also being too irrational to consider that maybe if you two talked something could be figured out. He thought that being by your side would be okay as long as he could touch you but your rejection did nothing but make him spiral.

Sylus doesn't take your denial well. You aren't fully aware of it right away, but he's known from the start that you don't really care for him as much as he does you. He doesn't want to do anything about it, seeing if he could slowly encourage you into accepting him in further. He'd do everything he can to try and convince your relationship to progress further but things just seem to remain stagnant.

You'd have to tell him that things just aren't working out. The two of you struggle to maintain a cordial friendship afterwards. That's not to say you can't depend on him - just the fact that it's hard for him to act as comfortable around him as he used to be. He still aims to keep you safe but you lack that camaraderie that the two of you had.

[genderkoolaid]

this part of Lou's life really compels me because like so many parts of his story it touches on a transmasc experience that is so common yet so erased by normative narratives around transmasculinity. most of the time when i see people talking about transmascs & misogyny (like on a very general scale, not just on Tumblr) it's very "before transitioning you are seen as a cis woman and subject to misogyny on the incorrect presumption that you are a cis woman" and then you transition and don't experience misogyny really anymore. so transitioning is going from being a victim of misogyny -> being safe from it if not active in it. and one side to this narrative is ofc the idea that transmasculinity is a maladaptive trauma response to "escape misogyny" and that transitioning from female to male is in line with what the patriarchy wants. experiencing misogyny is about being a cis woman and FTM transition is about moving towards a cis man's relationship with misogyny.

but for so many transmascs who started questioning while in a relationship with a cis man the more you express your transmasculinity the more misogynistic pressure you are faced with. and also, it's hard to meaningfully explore and develop your understanding of yourself when you are taught from childhood to decenter your desires and feelings for the sake of your cis husband. Lou expresses in his diaries at one point feeling scared by an argument with his boyfriend J on machismo– Lou desires the aesthetics of it but not the chauvinistic reality, while J seems to genuinely believe in it. It takes Lou a long time to separate himself from his cis boyfriend's perspective of him, as a gender-fucky girl but always a girl. and other partners express similar ideas, that it's okay for Lou to be kinda queer but as long as his still remains, on some level, a girl they can fuck and enjoy. His own desires, to be a gay man and be truly accepted, to transform his body into what he's always longer for, are irrelevant past the point where they made him sexy to them. Lou also talks about how he felt more comfortable internally while crossdressing as a man, but felt more comfortable externally while dressing as a woman, because while it's more painful on an emotional level to live as a cis woman, it's harder to belong in society as a trans person. Or as he says: "I continue to feel more like a part of the human race, yet less like a person."

& there's this heartbreaking passage after he has been convinced by J to not pursue medical transition and to "accept" his female identity:

Ridiculous when my whole crusade was to be a feminine gay male. And also my inability to merge into a male-male relationship with J, even tho I know now it would have been impossible. I knew I was acting strangely toward him, that I wasn’t relaxed or really me…that with the only person I’ve really felt at ease around. Maybe I would have fallen into the Miss Plastic Surgery syndrome—always blaming one thing or another for the fact that I’m not a “real man.” I hate to face it, but it’s true: I would never be entirely comfortable as a male. Because in my heart I know I am nothing.

and like. how many of us have experienced that? being unable to even conceptualize yourself as a man because you are so caught up in being a cis guy's girlfriend? convincing yourself that transition would only make things worse, because you can't imagine it as a real possibility and that's more painful than the everyday dysphoria? how many of us minimize our transness for the sake of lovers who think of it as a sexy party trick, but get grossed out and angry when we talk about wanting testosterone, top surgery, god forbid bottom surgery? a LOT of transmascs face a rise in misogyny as they assert their manhood, not a fall. people are sent to conversion therapy or forced into heterosexual marriages after asserting their manhood. our transmasculine identity is not conformity, it is not a symptom of a lack of feminist resistance. being transmasculine IS resistance. it is the RESULT of freeing ourselves from patriarchal roles of daughter-wife-mother. transmasculinity flourishes under feminist liberation, not patriarchal suppression.

I’m not crazy, I’m not living in a dream world. I’m not pretending anymore. I will have a man's chest. I will be a man. Oh, God, I don’t know how to believe it’s true. It’s too good. It’s too good. I know now: I can do anything. I can be anything I want. I can challenge the wind…

I’ve said it before + it’s becoming true again this time. Whenever I’m alone (i.e., without a boyfriend) my crossdressing becomes more serious + constant. In my search for the perfect male companion, I find myself. In my need for a man in my bed, I detach myself from my body and my body becomes his; I stroke his hair, I see his wrist. I feel the warm winds blowing my open shirt from my smooth, hard, flat chest. I catch the hungry eyes of another beautiful youngman. I reconsider male hormones—trying to remember why I decided against them before.

— We Both Laughed In Pleasure: The Selected Diaries of Lou Sullivan

[wallabywhump]

Post Episode 8x08 CODA/Continuation

Content: Light angst, Buck spiralling, Buck's abandonment issues/running thoughts/(has ADHD), BuckTommy hints at the end.

Word Count: 1,965

Started writing this when the episode ended, please enjoy!

---

The sign goes out front of Eddie's house two weeks later, Buck helps to dig the hole. Buck helps talk to the realtor. Buck talks Eddie down from a three-bed home with an attic office in a HOA suburb and helps him find a respectably sized two bed that will leave him with money to renovate the bathroom and add a ramp up to the door.

Buck bakes a million cookies and eats them while Eddie has meetings with realtors. He sets out sweet breads and muffins when Eddie has an open house, and he happily serves them to people, "yes, there is a gluten free option! I was playing around with xanthan gum, so it shouldn't- oh, you're too kind."

All through it all, Buck focuses on Eddie, and he tries to ignore the ball of panic that's growing and growing and growing, as Eddie calls his mom and dad, and talks to Chris, and they're discussing going to view the home together and-

"I'll be there in two days, buddy!" Eddie says to Chris, a smile wide on his face while he put the autographed picture of the Hotshots cast into a wallet to keep it safe. "I can't wait to see you; we can talk without it lagging."

Buck takes a deep breath.

"Buck's not coming, LA won't survive if we both are off work."

Buck takes the butter off the heat, starts mixing in the sugar.

"I was talking it over with Grandpa, and we can go to the aquarium while I'm there. I'll even get to cheer you on in your chess match."

Chris groans. "You don't cheer during chess matches, dad, you have to be quiet."

Eddie laughs, and Buck needs to savor that sound. Needs to bottle up the sound of his best friend, and the kid he loves to the moon and back, teasing each other because he doesn't know how long he'll have this for. "Well, okay, you'll just have to teach me what to do, Mijo. I've never been to a chess match before."

The flour comes out of the microwave and Buck mixes that in, the soothing fold-fold-fold making his raging heart beat easier to ignore.

"You've never played chess before," Chris teases.

Buck spares a glance at Eddie, and he's fondly smiling at the tablet, and he says, "Well, you'll have to teach that too. Need to understand how you're winning, kid."

Buck is trying his best to be happy for Eddie, desperately putting his issues to the side, he hasn't even mentioned Tommy with all the baking he's been doing.

Eddie, graciously, hasn't mentioned how Buck has gone back to how he was the exact week after Tommy dumped him.

Or perhaps Eddie hasn't noticed with all the preparation and the legal jargon and clearing out everything to make the house look pretty for viewings, and Buck-

Buck really wants to talk to someone.

Eddie's leaving, Bobby is busy building a house, Hen, Maddie, Chimney-

Everyone's moving forward towards something happier. And Buck's stuck trying not to tie his best friend to a city with his sad puppy dog eyes and a pout, all while missing his ex so much that focusing on Eddie leaving drowns out that pain and fills it with something different.

"Buck?"

Buck jumps, dropping his spatula into the bowl. "Huh? W-What's-"

"Chris hung up, he's got school tomorrow."

Buck picks his spatula up, continues mixing his cookie dough. It's as he folds a third time that he notices he forgot the chocolate chips.

"More cookies?"

Buck forces a smile on his face, ignores the floundering puttering in his heart that tells him he needs to call someone before this becomes unsustainable. Baking isn't distracting him, it's not-

He wants Eddie to stay, he wants Chris to come home, he wants a barbecue in Bobby's backyard with his family-

He wants to call Tommy.

"It's for the viewing tomorrow," Buck says, proud of how even his voice sounds, how it doesn't even sound like a lie.

Eddie sidles up to the counter, looking into the bowl. "You don't have to try buttering up potential buyers with sugary goods. I know you set a precedent for the first one, but I don't want you to feel like you have to."

Buck puts the bowl and spatula down and bumps his hip into Eddie's as he starts greasing up the pan. "If I sweeten them up, maybe they'll actually buy, and you can leave quicker."

The free-sounding tease is easy, it's easy to fake, it's been easy to fake since that day he picked up the tablet and saw the houses. It's been easy to fake since Tommy dumped him, and he had to crawl out of his home and go to work and look somewhat put together, so no-one was scared on their calls. It's been easy to fake since Abby left him at the airport, and with a home that wasn't quite his, and an uneasy feeling in his heart that she wasn't coming back. It's been easy to fake since he was sixteen years old, and Maddie was leaving and-

Maddie, Abby, Tommy, Eddie.

People leave, and that's okay, and it's selfish to force them to stay. No matter how much he wished they would choose to stay.

Buck scoops out a glob of dough and drops it onto his pan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, bud, I'm gonna have a beer while you finish with...that."

Buck sets up the mixer to bake a cake after he puts the cookies in the oven.

---

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and spirals.

The goodbye wave feels robotic, despite knowing that Eddie will be back in a week, even if it's just to start packing up his life to move it hours away. His phone sits in the dock on the dash, and Buck-

Buck doesn't have anything to distract himself from the yawning emptiness inside him.

Nothing to put his mind to, nothing to focus on, just a whole lot of nothing.

The nothing that has been eating away at every positive thought and coping skill he'd put into trying to ignore how much he missed Tommy. The way Tommy would rub his arm and pull him in for a hug when he was feeling low. How Tommy would sarcastically tease him when his anxiety spiked, until Buck couldn't even remember he'd been anxious. How they could sit in silence and not have to chat, and it was just peaceful, and it put Buck at ease, and Tommy wouldn't even mention when Buck's leg started tapping, he'd just put a hand on Buck's knee and lean his weight into-

Fuck.

Tommy would have been a rock through this, platitudes about Eddie not being dead, stop panicking. "I can fly a helicopter, babe, just say the word and you can visit."

Except, Tommy isn't his rock anymore. He's a hurricane that has Buck unmoored and swirling in an abyss of panic and loneliness and, fuck, shit, fuck, Buck has to talk to someone. Or bake something. Or go to the middle of nowhere, with no reception, and scream at the sky.

Everyone's busy. Eddie's on a plane. No-one...he has-

"Buck?"

Buck jolts, staring down at the phone now in his hand, Tommy's face filling the screen, his nose scrunched and looking confused, concerned and cold all in one expression.

So closed off.

"I-I didn't mean to call," Buck whispers, his voice weak and thready even to his own ears. "Hi. Uh, I'll just, uh, hang up."

Except Buck doesn't, he stares at Tommy and feels his heart stutter.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, and Buck watches the cold melt off Tommy's face, leaving only confusion and concern.

"What's happening, Buck?"

"I...just dropped Eddie off at the airport, and I'm sitting at the drop off spot in the taxi ranks, and-"

Tommy's confusion disappears, and his eyes soften, and he's openly concerned and it's like a knife in Buck's chest.

Buck lets out a hoarse laugh. "I've held it in for weeks, not calling, and my best friend leaves and it's like I can't help it- Jesus." Buck runs a hand down his face, he feels like a mess.

"Why did you call me, Buck?"

Because it was habit for six months straight, because every time Buck's been sad since the breakup he's had to physically remove himself from his phone to stop himself from calling Tommy, because Buck just wants to have Tommy as his, and he can't seem to move on despite everyone else seeming able to.

"Everyone else...is moving forward, making families and living their lives, but I'm-"

Buck should hang up, forget about this, say 'sorry, bye asshole', and block Tommy's number once and for all.

Except-

"I'm stuck, stuck on that day in my loft, wondering what happened and how that occurred, and all I've wanted since the day it happened was to call you and fix it or-or, I don't know...I just feel so incomplete here. Unsatisfied. Nothing-nothing makes sense."

Buck rolls on.

"And Eddie told me not to call, so I didn't, except then Eddie decided he wanted to move to Texas and I couldn't be selfish and ask him to stay, so instead I've been helping him, helping him leave my life, because then at least I helped control it."

Buck chokes up.

"Because he's an adult with different priorities, and he can make his own decisions and it's my job as a friend to support him, and I guess you'd know that too if you still talked to him, or hey, maybe he would have stayed for you." He's fucking it up, finally got Tommy on the phone and rather than giving Tommy all the reasons they could work, and he should stay, he's dumping all his fears about Eddie leaving. "And I- I'm not making sense, I'm all over the place, this is not what I wanted to say at all, I had a whole speech about how I love you, and I deserved better, and-"

"Are you safe to drive?" Tommy asks, his voice cutting through Buck's monologue.

Buck bites his lip and nods his head. Of course, Tommy doesn't want to hear about his problems, they're broken up.

"Yeah, yeah, I..." Buck sniffs, wipes at his face despite it being dry, and forces a smile on his face. "I'm just a little sad, sorry for calling."

Tommy shakes his head, and he looks like he's in physical pain, and God, Buck feels like an asshole. He's so selfish, and he should have just thrown his phone out and got a new number after the breakup if he knew he was just going to trample over boundaries.

"No, don't be s- I mean, okay, okay. This sounds like- Eddie left? No, this is a conversation for in person," Tommy sounds just as confused and lost as Buck, which isn't nice, because Buck expects Tommy to be a rock, to be steady, to be- well, that went out the window the night they broke up.

"In person?" Buck wonders aloud.

Tommy hums, and his nose scrunches up, and he puts a finger to the bridge of his nose. The video feed is shaking like the phone in his hand is shaking. Buck swallows and waits for whatever emotional turmoil Tommy is experiencing to pass.

"Drive yourself to mine," Tommy orders.

Buck stares at the screen in shock. "W-What? Tommy, I- no, I-" A taxi starts honking their horn behind him.

"Mine," Tommy repeats, sure, and despite everything it makes that emptiness in Buck feel a little smaller, like Tommy is filling it with just the promise of a conversation. "Sounds like you need to get going. See you soon, Evan."

Tommy hangs up, and Buck spirals, but he starts the car anyway and drives to Tommy's with a spark of something in his chest.

[mooshkat]

i haven't watched the episode. don't really care to. but apparently eddie is looking at houses in el paso?? and i've always related way too much to buck and the way people in his life leave so much so.

listening to 'please don't go' by abbey glover while writing this is devastating btw. highly recommend to add to the hurt.

tw for suicide attempt.

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and then just...doesn't go home. He doesn't think as he drives, taking turns and just alert enough to be safe on the road, but honestly? He has no fucking idea how he ends up in the mountains, parking in the small dirt lot at the end of the hiking trail.

Everything feels numb. Static fills his brain and spreads down his neck, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

He turns off the Jeep and takes out the keys. Drops them carelessly into the cup holder.

He should've seen this coming, right? People leave; they always have, and always will. Everyone from his own sister to his ex-girlfriends, and his ex-boyfriend. Now his best friend.

There's just something buried deep into his very being, something built into the coding for Evan Buckley, that makes people leave him. No matter how much he clings and wants to fight for it, they'll walk away from him and his love.

It's him, it has to be.

Buck leaves behind his wallet, his keys, his work bag. Everything is left in the Jeep except for his phone, because no matter how much people leave him with barely a goodbye, it goes against everything that makes Buck, well, Buck to do it himself.

He knows this trail. Tommy and he have been on it before, once or twice after Buck dragged him along with him. They'd stopped at the top, where a small cliff overlooks the beautiful scenery with LA off in the far distance.

He remembers the way Tommy pushed him against a tree and sank to his knees, looking up at Buck with an adorable, bright grin with scrunches up his nose. Buck misses that grin fiercely.

The sun is just beginning to rise as Buck starts his walk. He doesn't go up the mountain with a specific plan in mind, didn't wake up to take Eddie to the airport at four in the morning, and think I'm going to kill myself today, but the higher he gets on the trail, the more he knows.

It's early enough that he has the trail to himself. That's good. It's not, he needs to turn around and go back to the Jeep, go home but his feet keep moving him up, up, up. There's nobody around who will have to see what he's about to do and be traumatized by it.

He's seen more than his share of deaths through work, he knows how badly it can fuck you up. He doesn't want to do that to someone else.

When he gets to the top, Buck stops and just breathes. The air is fresher up here, cleaner. It makes some of the buzzing in his head quiet down. He can feel his fingers again, feel the way his heart pounds from the cardio workout of climbing, and make his hands throb.

He walks to the edge of the cliff and sits down, his feet dangling over the edge. There's a boulder a few feet away from the edge that holds memories of him leaning back against it as Tommy kisses him, holding Buck's hips with hands hot enough to brand him.

His very soul feels branded by Tommy. His chest aches every day, making his stomach sink with a homesick feeling he hasn't had since before he moved to LA. His apartment is still full of the baked goods that he creates every time he has to try to not call or text him.

He doesn't stop himself from calling him today.

Buck almost thinks it's going to go to voicemail before it's picked up at the last second.

"...Go for Kinard?" Tommy answers, clearing his throat. His voice is sleep-rough and deep, and Buck hasn't heard it in so long that it's like applying balm to very shattered, torn edges of a wound. "Hello? Who is–Ev—Buck?"

"Did I ever tell you," Buck starts, and he sounds just as rough, but he's more awake than he ever has been, despite the bone deep tiredness that fills him, "about the fact that I was made to be a savior baby for a brother I never met? My parents made me in a science tube so that they could use my bone marrow to heal my brother, Daniel, but it didn't work. I thought for a little while after I found out that it was because I was defective, but I get it now."

Sheets rustle on the other line before Tommy sits up again. "What are you talking about, Evan? What's wrong?"

Buck continues talking, bowling over Tommy's questions like he didn't hear them. "I think there's something inside of me that's toxic. Toxins drive people away, it makes them sick, it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense for why everybody I love gets sick of me and leaves. It has to be me, right? Nobody stays, not forever. There's something wrong with me and I've finally figured it out."

"No, Evan," Tommy says, voice soft. He can hear the concern, though, the urgency hidden under his tone. There's the sound of jingling keys and a door opening and closing. Tommy's too far away to stop him.

"Sometimes, people leave. It's just what they do, it is nothing about you or what you've done. It's them. Their problems. My problems, that we should–we should sit down and talk about. Evan, where are you? I'm worried."

He almost doesn't want to tell him, but maybe it'd be better for someone to come out and collect his body so he doesn't ruin the trail. Leave it as you found it, or whatever. He gives Tommy his location and ignores the way it starts a mental countdown in the back of his mind. He doesn't have long now.

"It is me, Tommy. I want to believe you, but I can't. Not when hard evidence for almost my entire fucking life says otherwise. My parents emotionally left before I was even born. Maddie. Abby. Other girlfriends. I even lost the 118 at one point–thanks to that stupid mistake with the lawyer. Everybody leaves. And–and now with you, and Eddie. I'm tired, Tommy. I'm so goddamn tired."

Tears drip down Buck's cheeks. It's exhausting, viewing every relationship as a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, waiting for them to exit left out of his life. He thought things might be different with Tommy, it was one of his longest relationships, but he was wrong.

"You know, when you broke up with me that night, you said you'd be my first, but not my last. You were wrong. I-I love you so much, Tommy, even though you broke my heart. I hate you for leaving just like everyone else, but I also love you. You'll always be my first and last now. It's my turn to leave."

"Evan!" Tommy shouts into the phone and Buck cringes. "Evan, please, don't do anything. I'm on my way, okay, baby? Please just sit still and wait for me and we can talk–about everything. Please."

It'd be so easy to lean forward and let gravity do the work to drag him off the edge. The side of the cliff digs into the bottom of his thighs and he kicks his feet, knocking against some of the dirt and watching it tumble down.

His phone starts buzzing insistently in his hand with texts. Tommy must have sent out a message. He doesn't look at any of them as he pulls his phone to set it on Do Not Disturb before putting it to his ear again.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants the hurt to stop, he just wants it all to stop, but he's afraid. What if he's too weak to commit? Just like he's too weak to not let people back into his life, even if he knows they'll just leave again.

Weak and toxic.

He drops his phone onto his lap and hunches down, elbows pressing into his knees as he covers his face. He can hear sirens in the distance getting closer.

A strangled sob rips its way from his throat and he makes his decision.

"Okay. I'll wait for you."

There's an audible sigh of relief from Tommy. "Thank you, Evan. I'll be right there, okay? Keep talking to me, baby."

He doesn't know what to say anymore and tells Tommy as much.

"That's okay, Evan. I-I heard from Howie that you were baking lately? What have you been baking?"

Buck knows what's Tommy's doing. He's stalling so that Buck doesn't kill himself before Tommy and the first responders can get to him. He's done it dozens of times before to people on the edge while he's rescuing them.

"A lot of bread, really. Pumpkin bread, banana bread, butternut squash. I even, uh, have a sourdough starter that I've been feeding for a couple of weeks now. I named it Billy because it looks sometimes just like the, uh, boils I got from the curse when it expands."

Tommy lets out a watery laugh. "Of course, you'd name your sourdough starter." He clears his throat and the sirens are suddenly much louder in Buck's ears before they cut off abruptly. Quiet, rushed talking that Buck doesn't understand before Tommy starts running. "What else?"

"I made baked Alaska pretty soon after we broke up. It took me hours to make, and the entire time it was setting in the freezer, I had to bake other things to stop myself from calling you. I-I don't know if Chim told you that's why I started baking, but it is."

When Tommy responds, it's not through the phone. He comes to a stop beside him. "It sounds like your coping mechanism was more productive than mine, at least. Want to get away from the edge for me, Evan?"

He holds out his hand and Buck takes it with a shaky laugh. "Oh, yeah? What was yours?" The knowledge that Tommy was moping just as bad as Buck makes him feel...something.

"Eating entire pints of ice cream by myself on the couch while watching rom-coms." Tommy pulls Buck to his feet and wraps his arms tight around him. Buck can feel how badly Tommy is shaking. "Thank god you're okay. Thank you so much for calling me, Evan. Fuck."

Buck hugs him back and ignores the paramedics lingering behind him. He knows he's going to be taken away in the ambulance and put under a 72-hour hold because of this. He doesn't think about that, or what it means for his job when he's let out.

He focuses on Tommy and the way he clings to him. He came back. Sure, maybe he'll leave again when the initial scare of everything fades away, but it's more than most people have done in the past.

Tommy pulls away first and holds Buck's face gently in his hands. There are tear tracks on his cheeks and more spill over as he looks Buck over. "I love you too. I didn't say it earlier and didn't say it then, but I am now. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.

It doesn't fix everything, doesn't even scratch the surface, but it raises something dangerous in Buck's chest.

Hope.

[noomeriff]

Ghostly Affection

Summary: You get separated from Mr. Crawling, will you be able to find him again?

Tags: Mr. Crawling x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Word count: 1849

A/n: Well, after literally years of not writing, guess I just needed a sweet ball of sunshine in the form of a creepy ghost man to make my inspiration come back. Hope you enjoy!^^

Bold: Other World Language

"Mr. Crawling?!"

The sound of your footsteps echoes in the empty hallways, your eyes frantically scanning every room you pass. 

"Mr. Crawling, can you hear me?!"

The dizziness starts again, your vision blurring as you lean on a wall to regain balance.

~~~

It all happened so quickly.

You were walking through the immense maze of hallways, trying to find your way back to the other friendly residents, hoping to find some clue that could help you return to your world. 

 

How long has it been since you've woken up in this place? Days? Weeks? You didn't know. What you did know was that the sound of clothes brushing against the cold floors was starting to become an anchor to your sanity, as crazy as it may sound. 

You smiled as you looked over your shoulder, the friendly ghost smiling in return. For some reason, the presence of Mr. Crawling was the only thing that could make you feel a little bit safer in this dangerous and unpredictable place.

You were passing through a big room, talking, or at least trying to communicate at the best of your abilities, pointing at the objects as he answered in an eager voice to your questions.

 

Then everything started moving. Cracks forming on the walls, pieces of the ceiling breaking down as you looked at Mr. Crawling in panic. The both of you darted forward, trying to reach for the exit.

 

You saw him make it to the doorway. 

 

Then you felt gravity pulling you down.

 

He tried to reach for your hand. Your fingertips brushed against each other for a brief second, but it was too late. 

 

You screamed as the floor crumbled under your feet.

~~~

You catch yourself before sliding down to the floor, using both your hands to get back up, "I should get going."

Really? And where will you go?

You look around, walking into the next hallway, your heart starting to beat irregularly, "I must keep moving, I'm sure I'll find him soon."

But what if you don't? This place changes, after all. 

You shake your head as you open another door, trying to suppress the intrusive thoughts, "Mr. Crawling!!"

What if you never find him? What if you can't find your way back to the others?

You mentally scold yourself, your breathing labored as you feel panic starting to invade your mind. Another door opens, welcoming you into a long, large tunnel.

You will forever walk through this hell alone.

All the strength you had left suddenly vanishes, your arms wrapping over your stomach as you fall on your knees. Dread starts to fill your chest like cold, sharp claws piercing your heart.

 

The only thing you had left was crying, to succumb to the harsh reality of this world. Tears stream down your cheeks, your voice feeble as you try to keep your last bit of hope close. 

"Mr. Crawling..."

 

Something moves at the end of the tunnel. 

Your head shoots up instinctively, your hand wrapping tighter on your crowbar, ready to swing at whatever hostile monster was there. 

You listen closely, keeping your breath steady at the best you could while your eyes squint in the darkness in front of you.

 

Then you hear it.

 

The familiar sound of fabric.

A wave of relief washes over you, so strong that your heart compresses in your chest.

Before you even realize it, you're running. The sound of your shoes echoes within the walls of the tunnel. You run until you can finally see the hunched over figure of your friend, who's looking around, confused and alarmed by the noise.

Tears well up in your eyes, the relief so intense that you can't contain it.

You instinctively throw your crowbar to the side, it was only slowing you down. The metal clings on the ground, catching his attention.

You fall on your knees, your arms wrapping tightly around his body as you bury your face into his chest, "Mr. Crawling!!"

He yelps in surprise, not realizing what's going on as he tries to keep his balance. After an infinite moment of silent, he giggles. The eerie but all too familiar giggle you've been longing to hear, the only thing that could cement in your mind that this is reality, you are not dreaming and you're not alone anymore.

In an instant his thin, but strong arms wrap around you, almost crushing you by the sheer intensity of it, "You find me!"

Tears fall faster as you reciprocate his hug, almost in fear that he could vanish as soon as you let go.

"Floor drop! You disappear! Me worry!!", Mr. Crawling basks in the sudden affection, his body swinging from side to side, unable to contain his happiness, "Me search! You find me! Me glad!"

He suddenly stills, your sobs finally reaching his ear. He quickly tries to take a better look at you, but he's met by your iron grip around his chest.

You feel his long, cold fingers rest on the top of your head, softly caressing your hair to soothe you.

"Pet, pet..."

He doesn't move, not entirely sure what to do, but trying his best to calm you down. 

As soon as you feel your breath steady a little, you feel his hands rest on your shoulders, gently pulling you away from him. Your tears run down your cheeks as he looks at you, his expression getting more worried by the second.

He slowly moves one of his hands close to your face, touching a tear with the tip of his finger, quickly retracting it as soon as it makes contact, "Eye...water?"

Do the other world entities even know what tears are?

His expression somehow turns even more worried, scanning your face and your arms, "You hurt? Pain?"

You take a deep breath, brushing away a streak of tears with the back of your hand, "No, no-" you try to remember the right words in the mess that is your mind at the moment, "Me not hurt."

A moment of silence falls as you search for the right words to use.

"Me...afraid. Many, many afraid...", you grab onto his clothes, "Me not know where you... Me alone..."

You yelp as you feel both of his hand hold the sides of your head, caressing you almost fervently. You're only able to notice his frown, his expression a mask of worry as he tries to make you feel better, "Pet, pet!!"

As your head bounces from side to side, you can't help the laugh that bubbles in your throat, your hair already a tangled mess.

You grab his wrists, fighting against him as he still tries to go on, "Mr. Crawling, wait-!" another chuckle escapes your lips as you look at him, "Stop!"

He stops, his attention turning on you as you lower his hands away from your head. You brush away the tears still on your face, your heart fluttering at the sweetness behind his action, "Me fine! Me not afraid! Me found you! You together me!"

Mr. Crawling takes a moment to understand your words, his smile returning as he giggles. His puts his hand back on top of your head, this time much more gentle as he pets you.

 

"Me glad! Eye water bad! Mouth happy! You ?????? !"

 

This time it's your turn to be caught off guard, your head tilting slightly in confusion as you try to translate his words.

Seeing your confusion, he repeats himself, this time gesturing with his hands to give you some help.

"Eye water-", he points his finger at your cheek, "bad!"

"Mouth happy," he points at his face, his grin stretching as he giggles again, "You ?????? !"

Is he... telling me to smile? 

Your eyebrows furrow at the unknown word as you try to replicate the sound, "??????..."

He nods vigorously, almost amused by your confusion.

You try your best to recall all your knowledge, it's been a while since you've heard a new word, but-.... wait a moment... no, this is not a new word, you've heard that sound before... but when was it?

Your eyes wander, looking down at your hands, now resting on your knees. Your new clothes catch your attention... of course! The Bride! You've heard that word when that kind ghost gave you these new clothes!

It was something that Mr. Crawling said in that occasion, but wasn't he talking about the dress that time...?

Your heart skips a beat as a thought crosses your mind, your eyes widening slightly.

 

No, that can't be the meaning... right? But... what if-

 

Your attention slowly returns on him, his expression almost gleeful as he watches you, waiting patiently for you to arrive at a conclusion.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry as your hand moves, pointing a single finger toward you, "Me..."

 

"...pretty?"

 

His delighted giggle is the only answer you need, "Mouth happy! You pretty! Pretty!"

Your can't help the blush that suddenly dusts your cheeks, the pure sweetness in his voice enough to make you feel butterflies in your stomach.

 

Wait- does that mean he's called you pretty before?!

 

As your face turns redder by the second, you're startled when you feel Mr. Crawling's cold hand against your cheek, "Face fire... why?"

You quickly grab his hand, pulling it away as your blush spreads further, "N-Nothing!!- I mean, No worry!!"

He tilts his head, beaming as he looks at you, his smile wide as he pats your head once more, "Me like face fire! You pretty!"

The moment you lean closer to hide your face in his chest, he wraps his arms around you, locking you in place. His laugh fills the silence, covering your voice as you sigh in both embarrassment and frustration.

He leans down, his cheek resting on top of your head as he pulls you closer, "Pretty! Pretty! ???? !"

You're not sure if you want to know the meaning behind that new word, or at least, you don't know if your heart is ready for it at the moment.

A few minutes pass as you let him shower you in affection, your heart finally calming down. You have to admit, he gives good hugs, even if his touch is cold.

You slowly pull away from him. He lets you, but you notice a hint of hesitation as his hands unwraps from you, but still resting on your shoulders.

Your eyes wander over to your crowbar, abandoned on the floor a few meters from you. You sigh, your mind finally at peace, "Maybe it's time for us to return to the others."

Mr. Crawling frowns, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly, "You go?"

The look of disappointment on his face almost made your heart melt on the spot, your chest hurts at the thought of ending this precious moment between the two of you.

With a soft smile, you pull him closer once again, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mr. Crawling chirps in delight, his hand resuming his soft caresses on your head, making you laugh with him.

"I guess a few more minutes won't hurt."

[scrunglepaws]

"I come from a big family; lots of siblings. Too many to talk about individually without taking all your time, so I'll just pick a few. Hmm... I suppose I'll start off with the eldest, Silas. I think he was about the best big brother someone could have. Strong, protective, loyal, kind-hearted. I looked up to him a lot as a little kid. Now that we're both grown, I find him a bit tiresome. Er- not for any bad reasons, though! It's just that his mannerisms have changed ever since he set out to sea. Sailors must be a rowdy bunch because he's just so loud and boisterous anymore. Between him, his wife, and his flock of kids; it's just a LOT of chaos to deal with all at once. Saps the energy right out of me, you know? He's a good person though, and a better son than me. He supports his family and is able to regularly send money to our parents, too. Still helping out with the farm even after he left! I'm happy for his success."

"Out of all my siblings, I spent the most time with Nine. We're pretty close in age and just sort of ended up being more of the oddballs in the family. I was because of, uh, my interest in magic… And having two tails… But Nine was sort of outlandish on purpose. Because she was the youngest, she often felt overshadowed and wanted to stand out. She's a girl? Well then, she doesn't want anything to do with femininity. She's named Nina? That's boring; she'll come up with her own name. No one likes to hang out with Tails? Well then, she will! Eh… heheh… Eh… It was nice to have one sibling to confide in and share secrets with now and then. I even told her about how I was baffled by romance and never wanted to marry. Instead of calling me weird, she made a pact with me to never get married either! Well… Until she met that girl, Fiona, and they started dating, but… It's fine. She's not beholden to some dumb promise we made when she was 12. We mostly drifted apart when I moved out anyway."

"Nowadays I'm not particularly close with any of my siblings. Or my parents. Growing up, I was more likely to keep to myself. It's um, sort of embarrassing, but I was kind of afraid of my family? I'd get this from everyone now and again, but my two older brothers especially liked to say that I was actually a changeling. You know, that their real brother was replaced as an infant by a spriggan, leaving behind me: a changeling. A… Fae creature. They said that Mother and Father would find me out soon enough and abandon me in the forest, back where I belong. Or that they'd beat me so I'd confess my origin and return the "real" Miles. Apparently my parents left my older brother, Manny, in the forest when they suspected him of the same thing, but he proved himself by making his way back home. C-Clearly just things they made up! A-And I don't have nightmares about it now that I'm grown… But, uh… I am ashamed to admit that I purposefully never really spent time with Manny because of that. I just- I didn't want to give them any more reasons to suspect me. He was a very strange kid, even to me. I regret never trying to understand him. I think maybe… We might have had a lot in common. And not because of anything to do with fae."

For characters!

If any of you have family, what's your family relationship like?

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