#but at least i can pull on them as much as i like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sizzlingcloudmentality · 2 days ago

Text

slower

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

wordcount: ~2,4k

summary: One fine morning you overthink a little too much for Dave's liking, so he prescribes you his tried-and-true treatment: cockwarming. He continues to be just a guy <3 can be read as part 2 to slow, but works as a standalone as well

warnings: smut, explicit, no use of y/n, reader is ablebodied, established relationship, mild d/s dynamics, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming but make it oral, deep throat-ish but not really, squint and you miss the dacryphilia, pussy pronouns, dick pronouns, pet names (honey, puppy), soft (dom)!Dave deserves his own warning, feelings

a/n: these two sat in my drafts since slow came out: to everyone who loved part 1, thank you and I hope you'll enjoy this one, too. my undying love and gratitude to @guiltyasdave because she beta'ed again (thanks bby) and reassured me by saying this is still Dave even if he's a little soft for his girl. I'd be so lost without you Jana 💛 tagging @sp00kymulderr as well because ✨dick pronouns✨ (justice for dick pronouns y'all)

Sunday morning. He ran. He made coffee. He showered. He stands next to your side of the bed with a steaming cup in his hand.

Your nose twitches, he can see it. It's either the coffee or the scent of his body wash that pulls you out of your sleep.

You look so pretty, with that tiny gap between your lips, your lashes slowly fluttering against your cheeks as you wake up.

The coffee finds its place on the bedside table and Dave sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight. Finally you open your eyes, and when you see him, still wet from the shower and not already dressed, a smile touches your lips.

“There she is,” he hums with a smile of his own and gently cups your jaw in one hand. His thumb drags down your bottom lip before letting go of it again.

You know him. At least the things that he lets you know about him. And he's having thoughts, you can clearly see it in the way he is staring at your mouth and the way his thumb looks pressed against the soft flesh of your lips.

You kiss the pad of his finger, adding a little kitten lick after and smirk when his eyes narrow for a split second. You got him.

“What are you thinking about, handsome?” You stretch your body and lean one of your bare legs against his wet back.

“None of your business,” he grumbles, feeling his resolve slip away. You were onto him. Usually he is too clever and stubborn to fall for your weak manipulation attempts. But this morning he is feeling soft.

You pout, pursing your lips against his thumb that still moves along them. ‘Meanie,’ you mouth silently before licking his thumb again, slowly, as if you want to drag the digit into your mouth when you pull your tongue back.

It is so obvious, you don't even try to conceal the way you want him.

His thumb slips between your lips and when you make that little muffled uh and start to lazily twist your tongue around his finger, he can feel the memory of this feeling between his legs.

He needs you.

“That's better, isn't it, honey. Keeping your pretty mouth busy and filled.”

You shift your body, move it closer to Dave and his towel clad thighs, your hands snaking over the sheets towards him.

He pushes his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing down onto your tongue to get you from licking to sucking and you oblige, like you always do.

With half lidded eyes, another moan doesn't quite make its way past his finger and stays stuck in your mouth. Your thighs clamp together and your eyes open again, only to find your own desire mirrored in his expression.

You need him, too. To trust you enough to be soft around you, vulnerable. Just once.

“Too many thoughts in your pretty little head…” Dave shakes his head dismissively when he sees your tiny worry-line appearing between your brows. “When I fill your mouth, you better only think happy thoughts, honey. Or none. That's what I would prefer.”

Unceremoniously he pulls his thumb from your mouth and the deepening line between your brows makes him laugh a little.

“Poor baby,” he mocks with so much softness in his voice that his attempt to kiss your forehead smooth again works.

You shuffle closer, your hand tugs his towel to the side so you can rest your cheek on his naked thigh. Skin to skin. You crave this nearness so openly and extensively that he can hide his own need for it behind your clinginess.

He never would admit it, but he enjoys it, the way you ask for his touch or simply just touch him whenever you need to. Which is often. Daves is sure about it, if you could and if he would let you, you would curl up in his lap like a loyal puppy.

He admires that about you, the fierceness with which you adore him. The way a heartfelt I love you slips from your lips so easily and the way you never are disappointed when he can't return the favor. He feels it, but words are hard for him.

“What's worrying you, honey?” he coos quietly, looking down at you while he caresses your cheek.

“Nothing.” You. You worry me, David, you think to yourself while a finger follows the faint shadow of a vein appearing from under his towel.

“Mhmm… You're lying, honey.” A few droplets of water fall down from his wet hair and he wipes them away from your face. “Do you… want me to give you something to occupy your mind with? Something that helps you to get that adorable blank expression?”

You nod your head slowly and a moment later Dave is on the bed and you are on him. The sheets rustle softly but the towel makes no sound when it slips open and down onto the floor.

A little pat on his thigh and you move without hesitation, curling your body between his spread legs and resting your cheek once again on him.

It is comfortable, the position with your head in his lap, but also all of this. The absence of shame. Dave’s confidence and casualness with his body rubbed off on you. The definitions of naked, bare, exposed, vulnerable have shifted since you were with him. He often was bare before your eyes, he exposed his body in front of you, used and moved it as the high precision tool he thinks it is. But Dave was never vulnerable.

You on the other hand have always been vulnerable when you were naked. He had a way of connecting your mind with your physical form and that made you exposed, bare, vulnerable. And seen and safe. Is he feeling safe with you?

“Stop overthinking,” he hums and strokes the back of your head. Such a good, loyal puppy for him.

“I can't.” The words are muffled against his skin, your lips occupied with scattering little kisses up his leg until you reach the always trimmed but never bare triangle. You stop and look up at him.

“You can. Just gotta focus, honey.” You are so pretty like this, so respectful, your mouth just one breath away from what you want and yet, you wait for his permission. “Let me help you,” he mutters softly. “What do you want?”

You move your head, your whole body, closer and nuzzle the patch of shortened curls at his base. “Him. Please.”

You already miss him. It's been a couple of days. And the last time Dave helped you with your extensive overthinking has been even longer. You need him, them. A faint throb against your nose assures you that he needs you, too. Please, your eyes say when you look up again. He is so pretty like this, looking down at you.

“Go on. You can have him.”

You move again, immediately, and lick his limp dick into your mouth. He tastes so clean. Sweet almost. Purely David. Soft and sweet, resting on your tongue.

He continues to stroke your hair. There you are, curled up in his lap, needing him to help you relax. Such a good, good puppy.

“Don't move, just breathe.”

You nod and swallow. He starts growing. It never stops being magical. Slowly he crawls down your tongue, stretches into all directions that are you. Seeking your depths. You let him.

It's peaceful, this morning, your head in Dave's lap, his hand in your hair, his hardening cock securely plugged in your mouth. No noise, just sheets rustling, your deep breaths, his sighs, your mewls. No movement except him, pushing himself deeper in the steady rhythm of Dave's pulse.

He begins to feel heavy. You know how he would look if you didn't hold him between your lips. Hanging, not hard enough yet to stand, point, spear. Just heavy hanging, swinging, giving the best slaps against your mouth and cheeks and pussy in this state. Full, heavy, promising. You want to suck him so bad. Want to suck him until he's rock hard and throbbing. You mewl again, sounding choked as he slowly makes it past the base of your tongue.

Dave grips a fistful of hair and tugs. A reminder. Breathe for me, honey. And you do. In and out. In and out, no thoughts in your head, just his cock, who is forcing his way past your resistance. You breathe. You focus. You relax your jaw and your mind. Bliss. Your pussy pulses. You mewl.

“Such a good girl, you're doing so good.” He wants to move so badly. In and out. But he can't. You need him, trust him to take care of you. He sees the glossy sheen in your eyes as you're tearing up just the slightest bit. He's somewhere in there, he thinks and caresses your throat with his thumb. You don't like him there too much and he respects that boundary. But he loves being in there, loves seeing you getting teary eyed whenever you decide to grace him with your trust and kindness and take him as deep as you can. He's a bastard, he thinks when he coos at you, for taking such a pleasure in seeing you cry.

You swallow again, your saliva struggles past him on its way down and there it is, a fragrant hint of salt makes it to your palates. He is leaking. You see it in your mind: salty shimmery pearls, making a pretty string of beads down his cock, along that one pretty vein that throbs against your tongue right now. You mewl but all that you both can hear is a pathetic, strangled gurgle. A tear forms on your lash line and lands on your cheek.

Dave takes it up with his thumb and licks it. Saltiness spreads on his tongue. A trade of salt, he gives you his, you give him yours. You're even, always.

His hand loosens around your hair, it's over if you like, keep going if you want, puppy.

You struggle a few moments more around him while he takes up space in your throat and mind. Dave's eyes feel heavy on you, the love he never expresses with explicit words is carving the trails of your tears into your cheeks. He throbs violently and you pull yourself off of him, coughing.

You scramble to your knees and before you could even miss the feel of Dave's skin he has you pulled into his lap, cradling you, peppering you with sweet praise. How well you did with the breathing. How good and calm your mouth felt around him. How pretty you are.

He feels it, your slick. Silky and sweet, sticking between your thighs, just from holding his cock in your mouth. Dave looks down, shifting you, encouraging you to straddle him and spread your legs wider, so he can see everything that is his.

Shimmery threads of sweetness, stretching from one inner thigh to the other. He sticks his fingers into it, twists them, turns them, spinning your thread of silk around his digits. He sucks them clean. Sweet. Like spun sugar but better.

You look down, between your legs and watch him as he grips himself by the base, and twists more of you around him, mixing your sweetness with his saltiness, creating a smooth blend of sticky threads. You almost drool and add another liquid, but Dave is quicker.

With a small thrust he pushes himself inside of you, not hurried, not slow either, but determined and eager. Another wet, tight heat welcomes him this morning and he feels truly blessed for this woman on his lap.

“Such a good puppy for me. So loyal,” he murmurs, voice strained and like gravel. Now it's you throbbing and pulsing, stretching around him but unwillingly, she likes to hold him close and tight, tucked away where he belongs. What you lack in clarity your pussy has enough of: she wants one thing and that is him.

You tilt your hips, angling him deeper. You whimper and sling your arms around Dave's neck and you breathe, in and out, and he moves beneath you. In. And out. A determined rhythm, chasing nothing because why chase the inescapable? It will come, like Dave, like you.

His hand finds his way down to the spot where you are joined, dipping and smearing in the salty sweet gooeyness, gliding over and circling around the nub that makes you hiss and your pussy clench violently.

“Feeling good, little puppy?” Dave groans and pushes his spread fingers deeper, feeling himself push inside of you and out again until the thick rim of his tip appears and disappears again.

You nod, head bouncing in the steady rhythm. In. Out. Up. Down. Full. Empty. Full. Empty. Deeper. Fuck, you're close. Deeper again, tensing, throbbing.

“Dave-”

“I know, honey. Be good.” Let go. Just breathe. In. Deep. Deeper, out. “Be a good puppy for me. I'm right there.” All he needs is you spasming around him and your whines.

You angle your hips again, dragging your aching clit against his spikey trimmed hair that got all smooth and slick. Salty and sweet. Up, down, so fucking deep you wince, up, down, faster, again. Now you're chasing. Mind deliciously blank, just the hum of pleasure in your spine. So close. So deep, so full, so stretched around him you can't even clamp on him anymore. More. Down, deeper.

His fingers flick and he pinches your clit and you fall, white noise and moans in your ears, riding Dave through the wave of your orgasm. Feeling him filling you now. Feeling his fingers digging into your hips and pressing you down on him, so deep inside of you and he whines. A sweet whimper of your name, breathed into your ear and securely locked away in your mind with a kiss.

You both breathe heavily now, in and out, sticky skin, gasps trickling from your mouths, arms encircling, little giggles mixed in, to make a soft, warm blend of safety.

He feels safe with me, you think and when you lean back, just enough to look at Dave's face, he mouthes something that looks like love and you and you securely lock those words away with a kiss.

comment or reblog to get an anti-overthinking session with Dave (I'm in dire need of one myself, help)

read part 1 here

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

dividers: as always @/saradika-graphics

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york smut #pedro pascal #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #the equalizer 2 #my writing

113 notes · View notes

crazyvik97rpg · 2 days ago

Text

Alan didn't let William get out of this hug for a while - he just held him tight and rubbed his back soothingly. If Sebastian was going through something so serious, than it was more than telling when William looked like he looked today. Exhausted, big dark circles under his eyes, Alan just knew he worried so much, he couldn't imagine what these two were going through. On top of that, Sebastian was still so young. Getting such diagnosis at such point in time - it must be soul crushing.

Visiting him though seemed like an excellent idea, William agreed and so did the others. Sebastian seemed fine enough already for that. Eric smiled: "Great, then we could visit him all together. What about tomorrow, right after school? In which hospital does he stay, how far is it? We could get him some flowers and sweets, some chocolate, to cheer him up".

"Ohh yes, that sounds great. I can buy the flowers", Ronald volunteered with a grin, "I have experience in buying flowers, I've been getting Sonia a lot of them lately. I bet if I tell Seb that, he will feel better right away", he snickered - Sebastian would be always so grumpy whenever Ronald did something stupid regarding Sonia after all.

"That's great, then we can get the sweets. Will, you know best what he likes", Alan smiled, "But we'll manage. So then tomorrow after school? We can take our car, there's enough room for us", he patted William's back and only now pulled away from the hug, so he could look at him.

If Sebastian only knew what great friends he had - not only worried for him but caring for William too. He needed the support, more than anyone - he kept neglecting his needs for Sebastian, to be strong for him, but that could only work for so long either.

Around noon, Sebastian was alone in his room again - his neighbour was now in surgery and he got to chat with him only a little bit before. He was friendly, a former military guy but now retired. An interesting fellow to chat with for sure.

His body kept him busy either way - the pain was a handful today and the nurses didn't want to give him too high of a dose of pain meds all the time. Soreness was a part of recovery he supposed but he could barely move and he also couldn't sleep like that. So he was just in a constant state of exhaustion, feeling like a bus ran him over. He was counting seconds at this point - visiting hours just started and he couldn't wait for his boyfriend to come already.

Before that, though, someone else showed up.

"Sebastian...oh dear, I finally found your room, this place is a whole big maze, gosh..."

It was the most pleasant surprise. Sebastian's eyes lit up, he recognized her by the voice alone and his lips curved up into a smile. "Grandma-...grandma, you're here?"

"How could I not visit my favourite grandson", she grinned and she came to a halt right next to his bed as she gently took his hand, squeezed it. "When you're not able to visit me, I have to visit you", she smiled, big round glasses on her nose - Grandma Lillian, Sebastian's mother's mother. That was a big surprise, to say the least - they didn't see each other for well over a year, maybe called each other a handful of times. Usually they celebrated Christmas together with the whole family. But that didn't happen last Christmas - and now it was already mid of September.

"How are you? Are you better already, I thought you had such problems with your lungs?", Sebastian asked right away, his eyes big as he looked at her in awe - she merely chuckled at that question. She didn't look the youngest on her own anymore, her grey hair put up in a simple updo - she had a cane with her too, just in case.

"I should be asking you, my darling. Your mother told me just the other day, well-...she told me all about your illness. And that you had surgery. I didn't think I would get to see you in such hospital bed before me", she sighed, the look on her face sad and worried - it pained Sebastian, to say the least. "I thought about calling you but I needed to see you in person. It's been such a long time. How are you?"

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes.

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times.

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?”

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them.

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

#for i have sinned

15K notes · View notes

revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

I just wanted to say, thank you for showing me where to get the little models, I've been having so much fun putting these guys together the past two days

Sorry for the quality of the photo

Shockwaves! I found the Blokees models purely by accident, but I love how tiny and posable they are. I ended up moving my Flame Toys Megs to my plant shelf just to make more room for these guys

Gravity Pt 6

IDW Optimus x Reader

• “Why Earth?” Turning away from his work at the soft question, he finds you sitting cross legged nearby watching him with a little frown. Yours been quiet so long, he’s assumed you were resting. At his questioning look, you roll your hand in a vague little gesture. “Why did you all come here? Why Earth?”

• Servos flexing slightly, he leans his forearms against the desk. Almost looming over you, but you don’t lean away. Just arching your eyebrows at him, because it’s been bothering you for a while now. Surely there were other worlds closer to his world, to Cybertron. So why here? “In the archives, there were ancient records of worlds the Primes had visited during the expansion before the war with the Quintessons. Of worlds that had been seeded with energon or interacted with,” he says. The words bringing up more questions than answers. Quintessons? Other Primes? Only energon rings a bell, because that’s the stuff he lives on, but seeded?

• Your expression twists and he knows he should explain it all. That he owes it to you after trapping you with him, but the past has only ever wounded him. Dredging it up always brings up the choices and mistakes he’d made. The things he can’t undo, but wishes he could because something small might have led them all down a different path, a brighter one if he’d only been better, stronger.

• “You came here for the energon,” you hazard. He’s volunteered so little of his past, only letting things slip occasionally. Like that his Autobots are at war, that they’d had to flee their world and that their enemies had followed. The details, though? Like why they’d left Cybertron or even what the war was over? Those things he doesn’t seem ready to talk about so you haven’t pushed.

• “We had no way of knowing about your species. You didn’t exist when this world was seeded as a potential colony.” Reaching out, he crooks a servo not really expecting for you to lay a hand on him and let him gently pull you to your feet. “I wouldn’t have led the Decepticons here if I’d known.” And that’s his guilt to carry from now on. Another failure that might cost so much, another sin weighing on his spark, because this world might not survive their war. You might not.

• “You guys were starving, right?” You ask, hand lingering on his servo as he inclines his head. “You were trying to save who you could, I get that.” It’s not fair or right, but you do understand. From what you can gather from the things he doesn’t want to say, things were pretty desperate. He was desperate. And to be responsible for the survival of your people, what would you have done in his place? You’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be nearly as honorable as he is, that you’d do anything regardless of the cost, because you’re not good like he is.

• Spark warming at your soft words, it’s that you understand that makes him curl his servo about you. How can you not blame him for bringing his war to your home? Not hate him or at least resent him? Your little palm slides against his servo like you’re trying to comfort him, worrying over him. It’s a weight from him that you don’t despise him even though he knows that this and what will follow will be his fault. For now he just wants to feel your hand on him and pretend that this one time, his decisions won’t cost him what little he has right now in this moment. Won’t cost you, because you give him something to look forward to every day. Something beyond duty or responsibility, just enjoying your company, the sound of your voice. The soft touch of a hand reaching out to him to break his loneliness.

#transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #idw optimus prime

121 notes · View notes

dubina-dawkins · 3 days ago

Text

STRESS

~850 words

>After long missions Ben is obviously stressed. What else can you do if not help him?

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! oral (m receiving), female reader but there aren't many real descriptions other than calling reader a "heroine", no usage of y/n, no proofread I'm gonna die, ben is being canonically really rough, but there's just a bit of his softer side i wish was there in canon so maybe ooc, supe!reader, reader is a second captain of payback (like starlight in the third season but no parallels between starlight & homelander and reader & soldier boy)

REBLOGS WILL BE APPRECIATED!

It hadn't been a hard day, not even a hard week, it had been going on for a hell of a long time. Everyone was on edge, even Tessa and Tommy were exhausted, and if all those missions, he filming of that stupid movie Legend had insisted on, could exhaust the twins, whose energy had always burned like dynamite, pun intended, then obviously no one had any energy at all.

People deal with stress in different ways. Some people try to abstract themselves from society - that's what Mindstorm did, and something in you told him that if he missed one more training session, then as soon as his coat even looms in Soldier Boy's peripheral vision, Dan would be dead.

Some were trying to forget themselves in training, and some were trying to beat the crap out of them in training. And you, as co-captain of this incorrigible team, as a supe who still had some humanity left in her, it was unbearably painful to watch Ben take it out on the others. But not at you, of course. Of course not at you, you were fucking special.

For instance, you were special when you sat between his legs in the meeting room.

No, don't think anything terrible, Ben wasn't the kind of man who would force a woman to do something like that, after all, he may have been a bastard, a misogynist and...a lot of other bad things, but he was a real man of his time - or at least he thought he was. In his opinion, it was much more manly to get a woman to fall at his feet - in this case, literally.

No, it's just that after he almost smashed Black Noir's head on the table during today's meeting, you had no doubt that he could use some stress relief.

And who, if not the second captain of the Payback, America's No. 1 heroine, on a par with the Statue of Liberty, could help him, America's greatest hero, become even a little more forgiving? The answer was obvious: no one. Did you do it out of fear, Stockholm syndrome, or because the only humanity left in you somehow cherished the bastard? It wasn't that important. Not now, anyway.

Not when his big hand was clutching your hair, painfully pulling back and literally slamming your head into his lap again and again. His cock slammed into your throat with a sharp and tremendous pressure, and somewhere through the veil of your own pleasure in the process you could hear his absolutely animalistic growl. Well, knowing that you could bring him to such a primitive state fueled so much pride in your chest that you obviously grew bolder.

You could grip his shaft lightly with your teeth, which made your hair pull back especially hard, forcing you to let go of his length from your mouth. You only laughed, and Ben only feigned annoyance.

And just a few moments after that, he's back to exhaling your name gutturally, stretching the "r" sound especially hard when he says you're his "good girl". And soon enough, Ben's grip on your curls tightens, and he's moving your head at an unsteady pace in pursuit of his pleasure alone. You suppress your gag reflexes, because to your great surprise, not only he likes it, but you as well. You were definitely a masochist.

His growls, guttural moans, and sloppy grunts mingled with your whimpers and the wet slapping of your face against his heated skin. How strange was it that you were ready to cum now without even touching your needy slit with your fingertips, just from the feel of his huge length in your mouth? It was probably very strange, but you didn't have that thought in your head, or any other, God, Ben had literally fucked the shit out of your brain, because all your sick mind was thinking about was his voice, his face, his hands, just fucking him. Thrust, thrust, another thrust--

He stops abruptly, apparently not wanting to end it like this. Soldier Boy lets go of your hair, pats your head approvingly (a rare sign of tenderness on his part!) and then takes up the locks again to lift your face off his still-hard cock, glistening in a mixture of pre-ejaculate and your saliva. He grins smugly, taking your chin with his finger. Judging by the fact that he's even allowed himself that smirk, some of his stress is already gone. But this is not enough.

"Get up, love. And sit on the table," he growls, lifting you off your lap as you almost hit your head on the edge of the table, and Ben lowers himself to you, pressing his lips dangerously close to yours in a scalding kiss. His lips taste gross, a mixture of expensive whiskey, weed, and smoke, but you grasp the taste with your whole life line. But before you can even open your mouth to his tongue, Ben soon pulls away, biting your bottom lip.

"I'm not going to end this with you so easily."

a/n: of course know this man is huge asshole and i hate him with all of my heart but your honor he's played by jensen ackles so he can be pardoned. idk what was the last time i written smut tbh

#the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #writers on tumblr #soldier boy smut #smutty smut smut #your honor im just a girl

135 notes · View notes

miaoua3 · 2 days ago

Note

Aa you asked me to say it here, can you make a “husband svt reactions to their wives fighting with them” pls☺️☺️ tysm

hii! sure i can, sorry i made you wait for so long, it's been a few hectic days :((

Seventeen And How They Would React To You Two Fighting

scoups: he will try his best to remain calm and collected, but sometimes even he loses his self control and ends up yelling back at you, which results in a screaming match between you two. he isn’t yelling so much because he’s mad, but rather because he feels like you aren’t hearing him out and because he feels like the fight isn’t going anywhere. in the heat of the moment he might unintentionally say something very hurtful to you. but the moment he sees tears falling down your cheeks, he’s hugging you closely to his chest, so tight that you can only breathe in his smell. will probably tear up himself, all while apologising to you. in his deep voice you will hear him say in your ear “i’m so sorry baby, i didn’t mean it, i’m an idiot, don’t cry because of me, i’m not worth your tears, sweetheart”

jeonghan: i can see him either trying to calmly talk it out or getting so defensive that he becomes emotionally unavailable for that moment, scoffing and rolling his eyes at almost anything you say to him. it’s just frustrating how you both can see what he means and how you aren’t to just let it go, even after he went in detail explaining how he was right and you were wrong. will probably respond only with sarcasm, scoffing he will say “yeah you would know a thing or two about that wouldn’t you”. he doesn’t mean to turn that cruel, but the whole situation is just so frustrating to him that he doesn’t know what to do anymore, plus you putting the blame on him makes him become so defensive that naturally he starts responding with cruel and mean words. but the moment he sees your shoulders shaking, he’s abandoning both his pride and anger, and is instead running to you, your face immediately being developed in his big and warm hands. will mumble something like “didn’t mean to make you cry pretty girl, i’m sorry, i don’t even know what the fight is about anymore. forgive me?”

joshua: i honest to god can’t see this man getting so angry at you to the point that it would make you cry, he’s always so gentle with you and your heart i just can’t realistically see it happening. he would try to make his point come across, if a bit forcefully but it wouldn’t escalate (at least not from his side) beyond that. if he sees that the fight is leading nowhere, he would suggest taking a few minutes for yourselves, before making you both sit down on a couch and talking it out, speaking in turns. you would still end up crying but not because of him yelling at you, but because at some point his own eyes would well up with tears, making you realise just how stupid both of you are. the moment he sees you crying, he’s pulling you onto his lap, hugging you so tightly to his chest, his own tears hitting the skin of your neck where he’s hiding his face. eventually, you two would end up falling asleep like that, the fight forgiven and forgotten from both sides

jun: oh this sweet baby would actually be the one to end up crying please never raise your voice at him. the fight would start as normal as fights can be, but the moment he sees you losing it and you raising your voice at him, it’s done. he will try to respond in a trembling voice, his hands shaking next to his body out of fear. the fear wouldn’t be because he’s afraid of you, like that you would do something to him, because he knows you would never. no, his voice would shake out of fear that this is it for the two of you, that he has officially fucked it all up and that you will break up with him. he would stress himself out so much he will eventually just break down, soft cries escaping his plush lips. the moment you see it, you’re running to him, hugging him close to you and repeating your apology like a mantra. the most heartbreaking thing, the thing that will make you cry too, will be hearing his broken voice whisper “please don’t leave me” in your ear🥺 protect jun at all costs my baby i miss him sm

hoshi: oh fighting with this man would give me a headache, genuinely, i would just leave and/or apologise just to end it lmao. not only would he respond kind of rudely, scoffing at every remark he doesn’t agree with, he would also yell over you, trying to make his reasons be heard loud and clear. what he doesn’t realise is just how much this hurts you, how unheard and silenced you feel, with him just yelling and yelling. his words wouldn’t be necessarily cruel, but he might slip in some truth that cut deeper than he thinks it would. the moment that he sees you running to the bathroom, tears staining your cheeks, he would feel his mouth dry up. after giving you a few minutes, he would just sit in front of the bathroom door, softly apologising and asking if he can give you a hug. just hearing your soft cries echo off the tiled walls of the bathroom would break his heart so much, he himself would let a few tears slip out.

wonwoo: i genuinely can’t really tell how he would react in a fight with his significant other. he definitely doesn’t seem like the type to yell at you, not would he be a wild one like hoshi is. i think the most realistic scenario is him just repeating his point over and over again, slowly getting more and more frustrated, sighing and massaging his temples in an effort not to lose it. at one point he would be so fed up with it, he would either say “im not talking to you anymore”, ignoring everything you say after that and also you in general, just sitting down and either staring at something or being on his phone, or he would just get his keys and walk out while saying “i can’t do this anymore now, im going for a walk, we will talk more later”. the walk would give him the space to think about your fight again with a calm mind, he would end up understanding your points and what your thought process is. this would help him out so when he gets back, he would talk it out gently with you, holding your hands on his lap, softly brushing his thumbs against the back of your hand. after coming to a mutual agreement, he would hug you close to him, kissing your forehead softly as an apology

woozi: i think it would take jihoon genuinely a lot to get him truly pissed off, and if it gets to that point, expect his words to cut so deep, you two might never come back to the point you once were. he would try to be reasonable in the beginning, talking as calmly as he possibly can, trying really hard to make you see his point of you. but eventually, as you start losing it, so will he. he won’t ever raise his voice at you, there’s no need for something like that- especially because his words will be venomous enough that it will hurt much more than him raising his voice at you ever would. he would say such horrible things because it’s his defensive mechanism, he wouldn’t realise just how hurtful they truly are until he sees you running out of the house, crying so much, you don’t even think about taking your coat. he will stay behind for a minute, thinking about what he said before he’s running after you too. after the most stressful 20 minutes, when he finds you on a bench in a park, he will be getting on his knees to beg for your forgiveness, the rarity that are his tears would make their appearance. his voice would tremble while saying “you have no reason to but please forgive me. i can’t live without you, you are everything i have ever dreamed of and im taking it for granted. please forgive me so i can make up to you and treat you like you should be treated”

minghao: the most rational one out of all of them, so soft spoken and kind to you even during a stressful situation like a fight. he wouldn’t even get it to the point where you might completely lose it, the moment he sees that your anger is about to boil over, he takes your hands in his and puts one of your hands on his chest, where his heart is. while gently holding the eye contact, he would say “my love. i understand where you’re coming from, and although i don’t really agree with what you are saying, i understand where you are coming from. but i feel like this fight isn’t going anywhere. can we sit down and talk it out? find a middle ground that both of us can stand on? i just think otherwise we won’t stop fighting for a while-we need to agree on this one way or another.” 30 minutes later, the fight is over, the middle ground has been found, the tea has been brewed, and cuddles have been shared. i just can’t imagine him reacting any differently in this type of situation- the most extreme scenario would be him going to a room alone to calm down for a few minutes before coming back to you to make up.

mingyu: i feel like this one would try to play victim big time every time and it would personally piss me off lmao. he genuinely doesn’t understand how you think that this is his fault and why you’re still fighting him. like it genuinely baffles him that you aren’t seeing your own faults in this situation. would definitely scoff at every other sentence that lives your mouth, saying things like “oh so this is my fault too? so it’s everything that isn’t according to your standards my fault now? if im so bad, why are you even with me?” at some point you will start crying out of frustration for being with such a dumbass lmao. the moment he sees your tears however, every word dies before it gets the chance to leave his mouth. when you turn away from him, he will gently tug on the hem of your shirt before mumbling “im sorry. i wasn’t thinking clearly and was very rude to you by not responding to you properly.” after a few seconds he will shyly ask “can i hug you? please? im so exhausted because of this fight and… i miss you”. after a few millions of kisses all is well

dk: oh this baby, he would NEVER let the fight get so far as for you to end up crying because of him. you two will go back and forth for a while, but the moment he sees you getting annoyed, he’s rushing to you, your hands teleporting themselves into his, his gentle eyes looking at you while saying “my love please don’t get mad. im sorry, i didn’t mean to push you this far, please forgive me.” and just like that it would be over. this is of course in case that you two just misunderstood each other. if you did something very hurtful to him however, expect him to yell at you in the heat of a moment, before ignoring you for the next two to three days. he would avoid you at all cost, although you will still find your morning coffee ready for you and the dinner heated up for you, but he won’t talk to you, still mad at you for what you did. that is, until one night you corner him in the kitchen and hug him from behind, your soft voice breaking as you utter the words “im sorry”. the feeling of longing and hurt and anger will finally subdue enough for him to return your hug, saying “ im sorry too.” after a few second he would add “im still mad though. i want cuddles and kisses tomorrow, all day, the whole day, as an apology” because he wouldn’t be our seokminnie if he didn’t add something like that.

seungkwan: oh god may god help you if your fight with seungkwan ever turns very serious, it will be so loud and painful and illogical it will drive you mad. we all know that our diva is a bit sassy, but once the sassiness turns to annoyance and anger oh you will get it in the neck. at some point the initial cause for the fight would be forgotten by both of you, just throwing insults at each other, trying to hurt the other more than it hurts you. the fight would get so messy you would just walk out, slamming the door behind you. after an hour or two, you will be welcomed with seungkwan jumping off the couch, his eyes bloodshot, yet again yelling at you “where the hell have you been?!” before speed walking to you. the moment he’s within the arms reach, he’s pulling you to his chest, so tightly it feels like he’s tying you to himself. in a most broken whisper, he will shakily exhale “i was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again…please…i thought- i-i thought that you left me…” cue more tears from the both of you

vernon: i know that a lot of people deem vernon to be clueless and stoic and somewhat emotionless, but i really don’t think that’s the case. vernon is one of the most mature ones out of all the other boys, he’s so emotionally intelligent and careful with his words. and he can definitely get angry if something rubs him the wrong way. although he wouldn’t yell at you, his frustration would be very visible due to the frown caressing his face and also with how animatedly he’s moving his hands. and because he’s a bit thick headed, i feel like he would repeat his points over and over again in an effort to make you understand what he means, even when they aren’t making any sense or aren’t really that relevant to the argument. eventually he will just walk into the other room to calm down, saying “i can’t do this anymore right now, we will talk later”. once he’s calmed down, he will go over both your pointe, finally hearing you out, but also making you understand what he meant more clearly. over all, arguments with vernon would never last that long because he wouldn’t let them last that long. once the movie is turned on and you are all cuddled up into his side, all so forgiven and forgotten

dino: see, dino is one of the only ones who i can’t really tell how he would act during an argument. while generally more on the quieter side, i can see him lashing out a bit once he has reached his limit, but i feel like he would immediately feel guilty about it and would apologise to you for saying it that way. he would probably feel a bit repressed, thinking you don’t care about what he thinks, which would make him yell out “you never hear out what i have to say! is that hard for you to just listen to what i say?” the further it escalates, the worse he’s going to feel, until eventually he inevitably starts crying. feeling a bit embarrassed, he will just walk out and lock himself in the bathroom for the next few hours. channie is so sensitive, that your words always get to him, making him overthink about everything-is he a bad boyfriend? does he even deserve to be with someone as amazing as you? were you maybe right, was he in the wrong after all? he would spiral so much that you will have to talk him into joining you outside to talk about the fight and to make up. cue more tears from him, he would feel so ashamed and embarrassed, he would be looking down at his lap the entire time until you put a finger under his chin and raise his face so you can kiss his cheek as an apology. after the apologies are said, he will need you to hug him for the next several hours, just holding him like a little child until he feels better about both the situation and himself.

136 notes · View notes

zyafics-recs · 3 days ago

Text

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

first and foremost, the color scheme for this series is GORGEOUS, the purple pairs well with the angst of the series and i’m so ready for it (also so proud that u learned how to get the gradient function!! ☺️)

secondly, how DARE u not tag me i am flabbergasted, heartbroken, overlooking the golden gate bridge rn

ANYWAYS, i have seven minutes before lecture starts so here’s my lousy and incoherent annotations below ⬇️

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

i’m so ready to see how toxic this can get

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

love a reader who knows what she wants and goes after it

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

oh god

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

my stomach is doing flips

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

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

i would need a gun

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

i would crash out so hard rn

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

SICKENING

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. Nome of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

i support women’s wrong to do mass destruction

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

THIS IS MAKING ME UNBELIEVABLY SICK

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

this paragraph is so beautifully-crafted i had to highlight it - okay back to our regularly scheduled program

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

TOXICITY’S FINEST COUPLE

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

exactly he’s YOURS (mine…?)

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

you fucking NARC

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

she’s so me

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

oh my god i fear i need her to do the best revenge arc

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

again, i’m always in awe of ur descriptions it makes me so giggly and excited to see how well u constructed ur setting

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

should’ve bought a glock w those pregnancy tests - i would start TWEAKING so hard

💌 — this fic is BEAUTIFUL (ohmygod my professor arrived, let me make this QUICK) i absolutely love how u created this atmosphere of anger, resentment, desperation and neediness. because u captured the angst incredibly well, and how u built up to it—the aches, the emotions—were well-paced and made you feel everything on a deeper, more slowburn way. i also LOVE how the interconnectedness of how topper and rafe are best friends, and she’s his COUSIN, and how this man SNITCHED to rafe when she was driving away. i love-hate that scene bc it builds so much more tension, but i would be fucking pissed at topper. lastly, as always your descriptions are one of my favorite parts of your writing and i highlighted them for my annotations. so so PROUD of u for starting this series and i will make u complete even if its the last thing i do 🔪

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

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

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

It had been a long month.

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

But this time was different.

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

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

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

You weren’t stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

She was there, with him.

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

There they were.

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

You froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hated saying her name.

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

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

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

“Did everyone fucking know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

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

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

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

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

But then…

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

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

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

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

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

How could you not have noticed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just needed to get out of here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were tired.

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

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

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

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

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei @stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

4K notes · View notes

famoussharkhairdoknight · 3 days ago

Text

Where Goodbyes Fade~Jude Bellingham

The rain pounded against the car windows as I drove towards Jude’s house. We’d gone out to dinner for what was supposed to be the last time. After months of trying and endless discussions, we had decided to end things. It just wasn’t working anymore—or at least, that’s what we kept telling ourselves.

I parked outside his house. I sat there, hands gripping the wheel, staring at his front door. I should have just left, said goodbye, and moved on. But something held me back.

Finally, I sighed and got out of the car. Jude opened the door just as I knocked, and despite the grey sky and the tired look on his face, he had that faint, familiar smile.

“I thought you’d already gone,” he said, looking at me with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Yeah… I thought so too,” I replied, holding my breath as our eyes met. It felt like it had been ages since we’d looked at each other that way.

“What made you come back?” he asked, and I heard a note of hope in his voice, even though he tried to hide it.

I shook my head, unable to give him a clear answer. “I don’t know. It just felt like… something was missing,” I whispered.

He looked down and gestured for me to come inside. He closed the door behind me, and the silence in the room became heavy. I felt more vulnerable than ever. We looked at each other for a moment without saying anything, but there was so much between us that every word seemed unnecessary.

After a long pause, Jude stepped closer. “So… we should say goodbye, right?”

The words hit me, but I nodded weakly, trying to seem sure of myself. “Yes, it would be… better for both of us.”

“Better?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe that word. “God, do you really think this is the right thing?”

“I don’t know, Jude. We’ve tried so many times… we’ve been at this point for too long.”

He took a step back, running a hand through his hair—a gesture I knew well. “Maybe we’re just afraid to go all the way. Maybe we never allowed ourselves to truly surrender to each other,” he said in a low voice, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

I moved closer to him, looking into his eyes. “Jude, if there are things we haven’t said… it’s time to say them.”

He was silent for a moment, then moved his hand to my face, brushing a strand of hair aside. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered hoarsely, his words thick with an emotion I couldn’t ignore.

“Stop it…” I replied in a low voice, but without any conviction. My heart was pounding, as if it had been waiting to hear exactly that.

“Will you really miss me?” he asked, almost as a challenge, and I saw the determination in his eyes, that same spark that had made me fall in love with him.

“Every single day,” I answered, unable to hold back the truth any longer.

Suddenly, Jude stepped even closer, so close that our breaths mingled. I could feel his warmth, his familiar scent, and every fiber of my being cried out for him.

“Tell me you hate me, if that’s really what you want,” he whispered, his lips just a breath away from mine. “Tell me you don’t need me anymore.”

“I can’t,” I answered, and in that moment, all my determination collapsed. His hands found my cheeks, and the world seemed to stop.

Suddenly, his face was so close that he was all I could see, his lips finding mine in a kiss loaded with everything we had kept hidden for far too long. His arms wrapped around me, and I held onto him as if he were the only thing that mattered.

After a moment, we pulled apart, breathless, but he still held me tightly, as if afraid I might disappear at any second.

“I can’t let you go,” he murmured, his face tense with genuine pain.

“Neither can I,” I replied, unable to hold back the tears. “Maybe we need each other more than we want to admit.”

He smiled, brushing his lips against mine once more. “Then let’s stay. Let’s put away every doubt and this time… really give it a shot.”

And in that moment, I realized that sometimes, even when you think you want to close a door, your heart knows the right choice all along.

#jude bellingham #jude sweetwine #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude #hey jude #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #p links #smut imagine #short story #cute story #love story

79 notes · View notes

heyheydidjaknow · 2 days ago

Text

After a very long week of diving headfirst into this fandom I think it’s only right that the champagne bottle we smash into this here ship is a four thousand word Chuuya x reader. Here’s to what I’m sure will be another few years of this, everyone; hope everyone is down.

Candies

He was glaring at you.

You had no idea when he got on the train. You did not care enough to wonder. What you knew was that he— the man in the hat on the opposite side of the train car— had been looking at you for the past three stops, and while you were fairly certain that you had no idea who he was, you were almost as certain that whoever he thought you were had another thing coming from how intensely he was watching you. Sure, he had the decency to look embarrassed by his staring, but that in no way stopped him from looking at you like you had something to apologize for. It was disconcerting. It was borderline creepy. But neither of you moved, because it was a train, and the two of you would not see each other again anyway.

The train slowed to a stop. Most people filed off. You did not. Neither did the man. You checked your watch, head falling back as you considered the pros and cons of waiting for the next train. You would have to eat dinner late, but you would not have to wonder why exactly he seemed to hate you this much for nothing.

You heard the rustling of clothing next to you. “Excuse me.”

You opened your eyes to the man. You took him in, identified any features that might be helpful for a police report: cold eyes, reddish hair, too many layers. Pretty, but not reassuring. You pulled your headphones off, fearing the worst. “May I help you?”

A pause.

You smiled tentatively. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand yen if you’ll go out with me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Reality seemed to catch up with him. “Shit. Uh.” He pulled his hat off, fiddling with the brim as he lowered his eyes. “Is that too little? I can go higher.”

“Do you think I’m a hooker?”

“Huh?”

You leaned away from him a bit. “What kind of thing is that to ask someone? ‘What’s your price?’ Seriously?”

The realization seemed to strike him like a baseball bat to the head. He immediately backpedaled. “That’s not— shit, I mean, that’s not what I meant to—“ he stammered. “I— no, I didn’t mean anything like that!”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “That work for most people, asking them what they charge for a night? For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Hey!” He sat up, defensive. “I never said I wanted to take you home!”

You crossed your arms. “Then what exactly are you trying to do?”

“Ask you on a date!”

“You sure have a funny way of doing it.”

He huffed, face red. “Look,” he grumbled, “I don’t ask many people on dates; I’m trying my best here.”

“You could just ask me,” you pointed out. “You could ask me in a way that doesn’t involve offering me money.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly— and audaciously— annoyed. “I can’t just walk up to a stranger and ask them on a date. Why would you go? You don’t know me; what if I’m a creep? How do you know if I’m worth the time?”

An incredulous smile crept onto your lips. “And you thought that offering me money would make you seem less creepy?”

“At least then you have a reason to show up! At least then I have a financial interest in showing you a good time!” He buried his face in his hands. “It took me a while to get this far and my stop is next and I do not have the time nor ability to actually woo you.”

The absurdity of this whole situation— the sight of an extravagantly dressed pretty boy bemoaning his romantic failings— was starting to get to you. “This all seems like a lot for someone you just met.”

He sat up quickly, steam practically pouring from his ears. “Well,” he explained seemingly in an attempt to regain some composure, “I may not know you yet, but I know that I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you do, and we’re on a train; I may never get the chance to see you again if I don’t do something right this second.”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I am fucking this up.”

“A bit,” you agreed. “But you’re bringing it back around, calling me hot.”

He brightened. “I am?”

You shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

His hands were shaking. You wondered how long they had been doing that. “Well,” he mumbled, “does that mean your answer isn’t a hard no?”

You leaned back in your seat. “I can be convinced,” you said. “Try again.”

He cleared his throat. “Hello.” He made eye contact with you again, the sharpness you had assumed was being weaponized against you seemingly inherent in his gaze. You tried, for a moment, to make out what color his eyes were, but the answer seemed to elude you. “My name is Nakahara Chuuya.”

“Hello, Nakahara Chuuya.” You crossed your legs. “See, this is better. Keep going.”

He gave you a confused look. You liked him, you decided. “Well,” he continued, disgruntled, “I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re easy to see.”

“Interesting word choice, but alright.”

He shot you a look. “You’re nice to look at. Is that better?”

Your smile softened. “Much. Keep going.”

He looked down at his hat. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were already spoken for.”

You snorted. “Spoken for?”

“Single,” he amended, irritated. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You stretched out your legs in front of you, thoroughly enjoying this. “I am both single and without boyfriend,” you assured him.

He nodded sternly. “Then, can I take you out? On a date?”

You considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.” You leaned back in your seat. “You’re cute, and I don’t think you’ll murder me, and those are my two big requirements, so.”

He chuckled. “High bars. No wonder you’re single.”

“What can I say? I’m hard to please.” You dug around in your coat for a pen, holding your palm up towards you. “What’s your number?”

The redhead paused. “I don’t have a number right now,” he said. “I’m having trouble with my provider. I can give you a time and place, though.” He held out a gloved hand. “May I?”

You gave him the pen and your bare hand. Quickly, he scribbled down an address (someplace in Yokohama), a date (the next Saturday) and a time (six o’clock). As he finished, the train came to a halt at the platform, doors opening with a quiet hiss.

Nakahara Chuuya stood up, fixing his pork pie hat securely atop his head before straightening out his clothes and giving you a stiff nod. “I will see you then,” he promised. “If you’re late by more than fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you stood me up.”

You gave the strange man a smile. “I’ll come early, then.”

He averted his eyes. “Thank you.” And with that, he left you on the train with a date, a time, and a great deal of confusion.

Foolishly, you showed up. You lived neither in nor near Yokohama. Getting to the address the man had given you— which he wrote with poor penmanship— took you some time too. You went through the trouble of dressing as well as he had been the day you met him— which was more formal than you would typically be for a first date with a stranger you met on a train— and went so far as to plan to be there fifteen minutes early. You had no idea why you were so interested in the man. You had no inclination as to what possessed you to show up to meet a stranger in the first place; after all, his assumption that you might think of him as some sort of predator would have been a reasonable one to make. But you had an inarticulable feeling that told you that this meeting would be worth your time.

Or you just thought he was pretty. You weren’t sure which it was.

The address he had given you brought you to a small restaurant close to the Tsurumi river which, if its sign was to be believed, primarily dealt in soba. Despite your planning, you arrived a mere five minutes early instead of fifteen which, in your defense, was still early, but apparently not so early that your date did not beat you there. As you approached him, a look of bewilderment briefly crossed his face.

“Damn,” you joked. “I thought I’d get here first.”

He looked over your shoulder. “You came,” he said, sounding surprised.

“I did,” you confirmed.

“Alone.”

“I was unaware I was meant to bring a plus one on a date.”

“No, I just mean—“ He stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m glad you came.”

You held your hands behind your back. “So am I, though I’m feeling a bit self conscious now.” You looked down at your clothes, then back to his. He had dressed much more casually than you in a loose, short sleeve button up, loose pants and a large dark jacket. He had kept the hat and the choker— which you had not until that moment realized you remembered— but you looked too formal next to him. “I thought you would dress the way you did on the train.”

He gave you a once over. “You look fine,” he said. “You look great, actually. Don’t worry about it.”

A smile spread across your face. “You've gotten more confident since then, too. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t look totally plain next to you is all; you look so stylish.”

He paused, eyes cast down towards his feet. “Thank you. I drank before I came.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you.

You walked past him. “Thank you. Did you drive?”

“Nah.” He shut the door behind the two of you. “This place is out of the way enough to make it not worth the trouble to park. I walked.” He nodded to the hostess, who sat the two of you in a corner away from the door.

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall: exposed crossbeams, warmly lit, nearly empty despite it being a Saturday. You took your seat across from him as the woman set a cup of water in front of each of you, leaving you to your conversation. She made no eye contact with either of you before she left. You picked up your cup, taking a sip as he draped his coat over the back of the seat and set his hat beneath his chair. The gloves, however, stayed on. “How long was the walk?” you asked.

“Not far. A couple minutes.” His elbows came to rest on the table. “I can walk you back to your car if you drove, or to the train station if you need. Just let me know.”

“Thank you.” You took a menu from the center of the table, scanning it absently. “To be honest, I’m glad you asked me to do something earlier in the evening; I’m not super interested in being on my own in the dark.”

He hummed in agreement. “Nobody does. I have work to take care of later, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay out past twelve alone otherwise.”

You groaned sympathetically. “Terrible. What do you do?”

He paused. “I… it’s complicated.” He laced his fingers together. “I operate a shipping company under a parent organization operating out of Yokohama. I technically and practically own the shipping company, but I can’t legally operate it unless it’s under the parent organization, so I have all the stress of a business owner with none of the freedom.”

Your lips twitched nervously. “Are you on a list or something? Why can’t you operate a business?”

“What do you– oh.” The brief look of confusion left his face. “I’m a skill user.”

“A what?”

“You know,” he repeated, “a skill user?”

You stared at him blankly.

“I have a gift?”

“Isn’t that a dog whistle?”

“What? No!” He crossed his arms. “I have supernatural abilities.”

You considered it. “You know,” you mused, “I’ve never been on a date with a guy who came out as being possessed to me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, blinked. “Well,” he conceded, “I guess that’s what I’m saying, but that would be a bad assumption most of the time; most gifted users aren’t possessed.”

“Wait, seriously?” Skepticism and deep curiosity battled for supremacy in your mind. “By what?”

He shrugged. “A god, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“It’s complicated.” To your– and his– surprise, he laughed. “It’s funny; I can’t think of the last time I had to actually explain what my deal was.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Do most people just know?”

“More or less.” He shrugged again, looking towards the door. “It’s practical. I use it a lot.”

“I see.” You sat up, taking your cup and turning it over in your hands. “What does it do?”

He did not say anything for a second, brow furrowing. He looked back in your direction, holding out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

You did.

He set the cup down on the table. Slowly, as though it had been set in a pool of water, the cup began to float upwards. “My ability,” he explained simply, clearly taking pride in the way your eyes lit up in excitement and awe, “allows me to manipulate gravity for any object I touch.”

You reached out towards the cup, moving your hand above and below it. If there was a trick to what he was doing, you had no idea what it was. “That is so freakin’ cool,” you gushed softly. “How can you keep it from flying away?”

He was practically glowing. “Basically, I’m counteracting the force of Earth’s gravity for just this object by creating a second center of gravity that only affects the cup.” He pointed to a spot near the center of cup. “It’s around here. So long as the force of the gravitational field I'm creating is greater than Earth’s, the cup will naturally try and be as close to the center as possible. If the gravitational pull were too strong, the cup would go through that point–” he pointed towards the ceiling, “-- and through the roof before coming back down. But if the force is weak, it’ll stay right around the center.”

You took the cup, moving it towards you before letting go. As if attached to a string, the cup moved back to its place, the water inside is sloshing.

The pure, childlike joy on your face was enough for the man across from you to forget, for a moment, the price of his gift.

The date continued on. The two of you went back and forth on a variety of simple, surface level topics. You learned that Chuuya was a dog person and that he enjoyed fashion. He said he had been in Yokohama practically all his life. He told you about his coworkers– no details, but enough to get a sense for the type of Motley Crew they were– and how that day was an anniversary for something, though he never got around to telling you what it was an anniversary of. At one point, before your food had gotten to the table, you asked about his gloves, which he had apparently not realized he was still wearing. He explained that he wore them all the time– he said it made work easier– but that he did have the good sense to take them off.

“I’m not a monster,” he had insisted. “I don’t want to get food on them.”

The conversation was surprisingly easy. He was nervous at first and clearly inexperienced– an observation that you chose to keep to yourself– but funny and over dramatic in a way that made the discussions flow jovially between the two of you. He was a sailor-mouthed, irreverent, sensitive man, you found, and he seemed to take great pleasure in your company and a surprising interest in the more tedious parts of your life: your occupation, your friends, your earlier life, all of which he found strangely fascinating. Though you knew little of substance about him by the end of the meal you shared, you could not shake the feeling that the sort of things you learned– the simple, stupid things most people gave out as icebreakers– held more weight than you could understand.

But you were grateful, nonetheless. You enjoyed talking to him.

Despite your protests, he paid for the both of you, and the two of you left the restaurant cracking up over some embarrassing story about school.

“Three days straight?”

You waved him off, laughter still bubbling from your throat. “I know; it was stupid!” you cried. “I swear I was possessed; by the end of it I thought there was a chance– assuming I didn’t have heart attack first– that I was immortal.” You sighed, trying to regain composure; you were gigglier than normal. “But I passed the class, so fuck that guy.”

He set his hat back on his head, pushing it down to rest snugly. “Fuck that guy,” he agreed, having about as much success as you did in wiping the stupid smile off his face. “God– being a teenager fucking sucked.”

“Dude, amen to that.” You looked in his direction, tears from the cold and from excessive laughter in your eyes. “Chuuya,” you sighed happily, “I am having an excellent time.”

“What a coincidence,” he grinned. “So am I.”

You looked up at the sky, which was significantly darker than you thought it would be; you supposed that you had spent more time in the restaurant than you thought. “I shouldn’t walk back to the station any later on my own, though.” You slipped your hands into your own pockets. “So–”

“Can you stand to be out later if I can get you back to the train?” He cleared his throat, apparently hearing the eagerness in his voice as clearly as you did. It was the same eagerness he had when he first asked you here. “What time is it?”

You took your phone from your coat, flipping it open. “Nine-ish.”

“Nine?” He pursed his lips. “Shit, I— no, I can make that work.” He leaned his weight onto one side. “I have to get somewhere at eleven, but it’s not a formal thing.” He looked away, swallowing. “If you want to, I mean.”

You held out your hand to him. “Nothing in this moment would make me happier than spending more of my time with you, Chuuya.” You wiggled your fingers in invitation. “Where should we go?”

He was staring at you, at your body bathed in the warm light streaming from the restaurant’s windows, at your face which betrayed nothing but pure intentions, to your hand which you offered him freely. He wondered if you knew how easy it would be to kill you if he touched you. He wondered if that was something someone like you considered at all.

“Chuuya?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. It did not matter. He took your hand. “Sorry.” He was breathless. “Lost in thought.”

You let him pull you closer, nudging him playfully with your side. “You’ll end up swallowing a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” you teased. “Do you really like looking at me that much?”

He straightened up, heat flushing his cheeks. “So what if I do?”

“Well, I don’t imagine it’d taste very good.”

He snorted. “Shut up.” He nudged you back, looking forward. “We can sit by the river for a while if you’d like; the streets will be sketchy here pretty soon but nobody goes by the part of the river we’re by.”

“Really? How come?”

He shrugged. “It’s impractical. Nobody important goes to the river, anyway.”

“Nobody important?”

“Huh? Oh, right; you’re not from around here.” He looked back in the direction of the river, starting to lead the two of you there. “The Port Mafia doesn’t dump bodies into the rivers; they throw them out by the dock.”

“The mafia?” You started. “What, like La Cosa Nostra?”

“What you do and don’t know is really confusing.” He rolled his eyes. “The Port Mafia is a smuggling ring operating primarily out of the city; it has nothing to do with the Italian mob.”

“Oh.” You squeezed his hand, following close behind. “That’s terrifying.”

“It is?”

“To know that people are just chucking bodies frequently enough that you know about it? And that there’s more than one group doing it?” You tittered nervously. “I mean, I’d heard a little about Yokohama, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

He squeezed your hand back, looking over his shoulder in your direction. A wry smile crossed his face. “Huh. That’s funny.”

You walked a bit faster to stay beside him. “What’s funny?”

“That you think it’s weird. I guess it never occurred to me that it was strange.” He tugged you to his side. “You don’t need to be scared, though; I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, will you?”

He shot you a look. “What,” he challenged, “you don’t think I can?”

“I never said that,” you protested. “It was just a very old-fashioned thing to say.” You lowered your voice to a growl. “‘Don’t worry, dollface; I’ll protect you.’ It sounds like something you’d hear in a noir.”

He opened his mouth to argue, considered it. “I guess if you found that weird, that would be an odd thing to say, wouldn’t it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Because what would you need protecting from?”

“Exactly.”

A funny look came onto his face. “That’s funny,” he repeated. “That’s…” He trailed off, slowing to a stop on the road.

You looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just that…” Startling eyes– they seemed to shine under the streetlamps– met yours. “You said you stayed up for three days straight,” he said. “Do you sleep well now?”

You looked away. “I don’t know if I sleep well, exactly; I don’t sleep as much as I should, at least.”

“But it feels normal, doesn’t it? To not sleep much?”

“I suppose.” You turned to face him properly.

His gaze shifted from you to the sky. “You know, I just remembered something.” He started to walk again, pulling you behind. “When I was little, none of us– none of the people I hung out with– had much pocket money, so we made a game out of stealing from the convenience stores in town. The competition was to see who could pay for as little as possible without getting banned from the store. I was never really good at it because I was an easy to read kid, but I remember always going for those… what do you call them? Bonbons?” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “The little wrapped chocolates. I’d always shove one into my pocket because they were always left out and who’s going to give a kid shit for taking a piece of candy?”

You followed beside him quietly, watching him.

He continued. “The other day,” he said, “I went into a convenience store for the ATM, and I must have withdrawn twenty thousand yen or something like that– a good amount. I bought a pack of gum before I left because I didn’t want to be the asshole that just uses an ATM and leaves, and I realized– I think I’d walked a block away when I did– that I had one of those candies in my pocket.” He led you off the path. “I guess I must’ve picked it up while I was paying for the gum. They weren’t even the good chocolates; they were the hundred yen ones, and I knew why I’d grabbed that piece– because nobody’s going to lose their mind over a hundred whatever yen– but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d grabbed it.”

The two of you came to a stop by the riverbed. It was quiet for a Saturday. The water shone under the moonlight, and the man beside you– whose gaze was now transfixed by the reflection– stood next to you, seemingly lost in thought.

You never let go of his hand. “Being a kid kinda sucks,” you said, running your thumb over his clothed knuckles. “You usually don’t have many responsibilities, but you don’t know enough to know what you should and shouldn’t get involved with.”

He looked to you.

“And you get so jealous of the Huck Finn kids– you know the type: no responsibilities, nobody to tell them no– until you get older and realize– too late– that the habits you picked up when you were left to your own devices probably weren’t the healthiest, but by the time you put that together they’re so deeply encoded in your being that they’re a part of who you are and part of how you got this far, so even if they’re unhealthy it’s not like you can give them up now.” You shivered. “It’s frustrating, looking back and thinking about what you could’ve been.”

The two of you stood there, staring at the water. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying, in vain, to keep you from the cold.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with anyone before.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against him. “It’s funny,” you said. “I don’t think I have either.”

His voice was soft. “I want to see you again.”

“So do I.”

“Then we should.”

“We should.”

You did.

72 notes · View notes