#but the fact that they do this all the time with no breaks and you cant be assed to give them one

[muntitled]

Blink Twice

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: After pushing your body to the brink, it's finally giving out. You're rewarded for all your dazzling work ethic with a “nice” dinner. As ‘nice’ as ‘nice’ gets with him…

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Murder, Abuse, Male Manipulation, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Handcuffs, Exhibitionism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Fingering, Somnophilia, Period Sex, Bodily Fluids.

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

"H-How do you keep breaking into my apartment?" If it weren't for the fact that you were currently being fingered awake, you might have found it in yourself to sound more angry.

But you weren't awake, and he had taken advantage of your unconscious state just enough to bend down over your sleeping frame, and slip his hands between your legs.

You had promised yourself a quick power nap on the couch, anything that might lessen the pain that had been steadily blooming in your left arm. That nap had stolen you throughout most of the day until, here he hovers over you- the man who is undoubtedly the culprit for all this bodily pain you're in- with his fingers inside you.

“There you are, sleepy head,” His face is so close, you can see the smile wrinkling his face. His smile is bright and kind but his fingers aren't. They're stretching your cunt out, wrenching a moan from deep within you as you stare down at your hips moving off the couch.

“Fuck…” Your voice cracks as he scissors his index and middle finger inside you, still on a mission to split you apart. You drown in the scent of his cologne and his perfectly new suit- a black one today.

You throw your head back, feeling the pressure mount as you grind down against his fingers all while he watches with immense satisfaction.

“Can't- just-” you gasp when your wetness seeps out of you and onto the couch. “Can't-Do-This-” For all those moments you forget that you're nursing a sore arm. As you grind down against his ruthless fingers.

You forget that he might have seriously injured you this time.

“I couldn't help myself,” he whispers hoarsely, forcing an orgasm out of you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “You look breathtaking when you're unconscious.”

As the orgasm passes, you try to wake yourself up and become more aware of your surroundings.

Your body is shaking once he's done with you. Your cunt aches and reality sets back in. “Get out of my house.”

He straightens his tie before standing to his full height again, “You say that like I don't own the place,"

He's smiling stiffly as he stands before you, clutching that bloody briefcase, having come to collect you for another round of games...

Something inside your worn-out soul breaks at the sight of him so unfathomably fazed. You were experiencing another round of those 'realization moments'.

You have actually gone and sold yourself to a sadist.

Especially now that he's gone and done it again. After vehemently expressing that he 'please be a little more gentle with you', he insisted on pushing your body to the brink of its abilities. Toying with you and punishing you and releasing all the workings of those sick, sick, sick games on you, and for what?

It hits you more often than not these days.

A paid apartment? Paid university fees?

You try to keep your sleepy eyes unkind as you glare up at him but even you blanch at how much of a necessary force he's made himself in your life.

"And how often are you going to remind me that all my resources are tied to you?" You rise from lying supine, waiting for the world to stop spinning before you start stretching. None of your limbs protest as much as yours left shoulder that practically howls in pain. He watches you with robotic intrigue.

"I thought I should make good on that promise to take you out.”

"Take me out?" He notes the way your good shoulders tenses and smiles.

"I already said I've got no plans to kill you. You're the most fun I've had in years and years." He says "I want you to go to dinner with me."

"You wanna take your abuse victim out to dinner... looking like this?" you try to lift your arm but it protests, sending a sharp pain through your entire left side.

"I think you look rather beautiful."

"You would think this is what beauty looks like."

A tense silence falls.

"You're angry." He tilts his head, "And in pain."

You scoff venomously then, "Whomever might the culprit be?" You ask sarcastically before picking yourself up from the couch. You're cradling your arm, dragging your worn body across the floor to the adjoining kitchen.

"My fucking arm still hurts." You nearly cry as you squeeze the words out. Shooting a teary-eyed glare at your sadist from the kitchen.

"Tonight is your celebration dinner and it's way overdue." He busies himself by folding up the quilt that had been draped along your sleeping frame, "All my virtues rest on giving credit where credit is due, and you my dear..." the gaze he arrests you in is warm, and penetrative, like you were being reminded that he owns your body and soul, "-have done stellar work for me."

It's said in a wave of reverence you didn't really expect.

"Let me take you out,"

Sure he was sociopathic, and deranged, and everything you should most definitely be seeking refuge from, but the sentiment in his voice is genuine. As if, after 40 years on this earth, with the violent tendencies he had undoubtedly been born with, here is someone that's actually helping him. That's what you're doing, you're helping him. But it comes at a steep, steep price.

"You have virtues?" You ask sarcastically, causing the once intense moment to scatter and lighten.

"And your humor would be missed if I killed you. Where else would I find someone with such a stellar sense of humor and almost no sense of self preservation?" He asks aloud, as he walks towards the counter that separates you both. "You should've asked for help the first day you met me-"

"You offered to pay my shit if I played your games, who would walk away from that?”

"You should've." He smiles. "But I'm glad you didn't." His smile reaches those dead, almond eyes, "And tonight we have a celebration dinner."

"I can't go out," you say, turning your back on him to drink water.

His voice is dark when he says, "Can't or won't?"

"Can't." You slam your cup down against the sink, earning a thick wave of silence. You were never angry with him before. Never. "I think you broke something." You say, turning slowly, still cradling your arm like a baby.

There's a jarring amount of care in his voice as he rounds the counter to walk closer towards you. He examines your arm with deceptively soft eyes as he softly says, "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

You look up at him with blank eyes, "Try not to get off thinking about it," you snip back. Sarcasm was your only weapon.

"I couldn't help myself," He rests his large hand on your arm, "you know that right?

"Y-Yes," your resolve falters and you're back to being his submissive. "I don't blame you."

"In fact." He nods along with you, conditioning you to accept his view of the events as he says, "Our session this past week had been nothing short of magical."

You're not quite sure if that was a reliable portrayal of the events but your weak mind is already fitting the memories to be so.

Somehow, you're thinking of the events with less anger: how he had snapped real, silver handcuffs on your wrists, resting them behind your back while you were being fucked from behind. It had been blissful until he pulled too hard on the left and you screamed and you blacked out.

Now here he stands before you, drenched in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a brand new black suit, smelling of fine cologne, telling you it was magical.

He came when you broke your arm.

"Alright, I'll come with you," he decides with finality, prompting you to snap out of your daze.

"No, I can go myself!" You move around him to gather your things.

"Unless you've magically obtained the ability to communicate in Korean then I suggest I come with you." He watches you race across your tiny apartment, gathering your things.

"There are English speaking doctors I'll be f-uck." As you were searching for your phone between the couch, you angered the arm, causing another wave of pain to blossom.

"I'm taking you." He stands by the doorway, "Let's go."

Your nostrils flare as the real reason for your discomfort rears its head. "B-but what if..."

You let the words die on your lips. Choosing instead to look at him, hoping your eyes relay the severity of the implications that might arise from a simple trip to the hospital. All those questions.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me." He says, still smiling.

"Worry?" You snort as you make your way to the front door where your sneakers sit, "If you go to jail who's gonna make me cum?"

He clutches at the space where a heart ought to be and says, "And here I was thinking you were falling in love with an old man like me."

"You can't love anything," you shoot back coldly.

"I can't," he confirms, "but you can."

You move away from the conversation like It's growing teeth.

"Let's just go," you mumble quietly, heading out the door, not looking back and knowing he'd follow.

𓂃

The hospital is bombarded by the smell of antiseptic and busy bodies in white coats whizzing all around you. It's dizzying actually being here as the severity if it all comes hammering down on you. You didn't like being around so many people at the best of times- even attending university everyday was met with its fair share of anxiety. Almost on instinct, you curl a little closer into his side, letting your right hand slither over his wrist. Surprisingly, he lets you.

"What should I say?" It only strikes you now that you probably should have rehearsed some script since 'I'd like to seek medical attention because I'm meeting with a homicidal sadist weekly who pays my bills and my body is finally giving out,' probably wouldn't be a good way to go.

The confidence in his stride leaves you brimming with nervousness. Your less than orthodox dynamic has already made a few passers by stare but here, inside the hospital, you feel like the only two humans to exist.

"I'll do the talking," he reassures and something inside you sighs. This is what made him such a necessary force for you. He handled way more than you ever could. He moved through the world, headstrong and in charge. He was everything you weren't.

"Good day-" he says to the nurse manning the front desk, "I'd like to get my wife treated for a possible fracture or broken bone-"

Wife.

It rings through your ears.

Meanwhile, kind eyes- genuine, human eyes- look at you from across the desk. You realize then how little contact you've had with anyone normal. Anyone real.

"Poor thing," the nurse murmurs and your heart tugs at the kindness drenched in her voice.

"Alright, Sir, it's just-" the nurse gestures towards the rest of the waiting room, "We're just busier than we usually are for a weekday so you might have to wait a while-"

"You have medical aid?" You enquire softly, letting your side bump against him. "Who the hell are you?"

He stares down the small woman as he reveals a glistening card from his wallet. She quickly looks at you before she tentatively takes the card and types away at her computer.

Somehow, up until this point you had fooled yourself into believing you were on the road to autonomy, that going to university and being a woman in her 20s away from home meant you were finally obtaining sweet sweet independence but in actuality... you were just a little girl, deluding herself into thinking the city might be kind to her. It's swallowing you whole. And you're being left to watch.

It made you aware of how completely vulnerable you had really been. You could barely afford rent, let alone something as luxurious as medical aid. For all your time in this city you tried not to get hurt because medical bills would eat you alive and here he was, whipping a card out.

"Right this way-" The little nurse moves from behind the counter, and almost immediately, you hear a distinct uproar in the waiting room behind you. "I think doctor Park will see you, but we'll first head over for X-Ray and-"

"Hey!" The sound startles you, causing your shoulders to tense as you grip on your Salesman's forearm, making sure he's still there, "We've been here for 4 hours," You meet the haggard glassy eyes of a middle aged man. He's scowling at you as if you've committed a grave murder right before him.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The nurse begins, her voice filled with concern, "This hospital is legally obligated to help out those with medical aid first-"

Shoes click against the cold floors. A shadow descends as your Salesman steps forward as if protecting you from the man's vehemence. Time stands still in the moments he makes his venomous proposition. A proposition so vile it nearly had you vomiting here all over the hospital floors.

"My wife needs a new heart-" he begins, gesturing to a woman- a ghost seated in the chairs behind him. Her skin is practically translucent as she stares off into space. "Who knows how much time we're wasting while we're being forced to wait here-"

"Are you up for a game of rock, paper, scissors by any chance?" Your salesman asks, causing your heart to sink. The man examines him as if he's grown a second head.

"If you win a single round against me, I will pay for your wife's medical treatment. New heart." At the peroration of his incredibly insensitive and evil proposition, your Salesman smiles.

"One round." He says, before his eyes snap to the woman pulling at her husband's arm.

"She doesn't look too well," The Salesman pouts and you walk up towards him, limbs shaking as you whisper-yell in his ear, feeling all your nerves being shot out of you.

"Jesus, you're fucking disgusting."

"Birds of a feather-" he whispers back, before refocusing his attention onto the man.

Meanwhile the nurse tries to pull you away but you're rooted to the floors. This whole ordeal makes you realize that you've never actually seen him interact with normal people. It makes you wonder where he goes when he's not with you. You'd almost believed that he's a fragment of your delusions, something your lonely brain cooked up to make you believe someone in this city cared about you. But he's real. And he has a life outside the two of you.

"Don't you wanna help your wife?" He continues to tempt the man, "Look at mine-" the Salesman said, gesturing to you. "She's a little battered and bruised but she's alive. You're not dying any time soon, right honey?"

You rip your eyes away from him just as your nurse returns. She places a warm arm on your forearm and in the midst of the game, she places a card in your hand. "Let's go for your x-rays,"

While they play their game, you look down at the piece of paper.

Blink twice if the man you're with is the one who assaulted you.

Call it female intuition.

You have no idea what could've led to the fact that he was the one but the nurse is watching you with a heavy gaze and bated breath. You almost drown in the concern she holds for you, a mere stranger.

In another life, you might've had a friend like her. She's relatively young, budding with youthfulness, actually. You imagine she has a boyfriend. An actual one. One who holds her bag while she's shopping. One who kisses her. These kinds of people develop empathy. The ‘fixed people’. You can tell she knows love.

“I-”

“Rock, paper, scissors-”

You blink once before looking away and the nurse sighs in relief.

"Better luck next time." You watch with bated breath as the man draws a rock to the Salesman's paper.

𓂃

An oblique fracture, they called it. The thing that's been plaguing your left arm for a week has finally been given its name. You're walking out of the doctor's office feeling light and remarkably relieved to leave this place and all its people. He walks confidently beside you, having sat through the whole ordeal. He had been there as they fashioned the pink cast over your arm and he walks beside you now, like your own personal well-dressed shadow.

On your way out, you pass by the receptionist's desk, she smiles over at you but glares at the Salesman. Just as you're about to make it out, you hear her voice.

“You said she's your wife,” the woman speaks up, causing you both to stop. “I don't see a ring.”

Cold, white, fear runs down your spine and your hand that was in his, squeezes as silence envelops you both.

“Good Day,” is all he says with an amicable smile before pulling you along.

Silence enveloped you on your taxi ride over to the Japanese restaurant comfortably situated in the Gangnam district. He had been remarkably quiet in the taxi driver over and he is remarkably quiet now as you're being led to a booth in the restaurant. It's adequately filled with its patrons. Families and couples like perhaps you two were. You wonder if he has these thoughts…

“She did make a good point,” you mumble as you take a seat in the booth, watching silently as he slips in beside you. “If you're going to be telling people I'm your wife and they don't see a ring…”

He sets his briefcase in the booth beside you both, sighing softly as he mumbles, “People don't usually marry their toys, do they?”

Before you're able to respond, a waiter walks up to your booth, having his pen and notepad at attention as he asks for your order. You watch your Salesman expertly lay down your order, everything from yakitori, to miso soup to onigiri. It's mesmerizing watching him order for you and you suspect it had the same effect on you. His hands on your thigh squeezes slightly, while you silently let him order. In a moment the waiter vanishes.

“You're so old,” you say suddenly, trying to make up for the silence and the nervousness raging through your heart. This is the first time you're out with him in a public setting and its setting you alight with worry. “I'm sure you remember when Korea was under Japanese occupation,”

“Keep making your little jokes,” he says, sipping on his complimentary water as he allows his back to rest against the seat, “And I might not be so forgiving…”

His hand rests his hand on your thigh, it's the only thing you're able to focus on. How his fingers cover so much space. The sheer size of it. The sheer size of him. You feel so completely small beside him, you almost don't realize that he's begun talking again.

“My father fought in the war when he was ‘round about your age,” that brings you clean out of your thoughts. Your eyes snap up to meet his but he's staring aimlessly ahead, as if reminiscing on something beautiful.

“Jesus I-” you swallow thickly, “That was a bloody war,”

He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your thigh to undo the buttons of his blazer.

“More than 3 million dead.” He says taking another sip.

“Right.” You nod, heart hammering when he places his hand back on your thigh. “2 million soldiers and 1 million civilians,” he places the glass back down on the table and he shakes his head slightly, twirling his index.

“Swap the numbers around.”

“Right…” you clear your throat, keeping your gaze locked on your lap, “That's... heartbreaking. I'm sorry.”

He turns his head, finally regarding you under the dimness of the hanging light fixtures. He tilts his head to the side in that way he does when he's particularly intrigued by you. “You are sorry, aren't you?”

You nod.

“But I have no idea why, you're not a Japanese fascist from the 40s.”

“No, but I have empathy.”

“Curious.” He replies back, before letting silence fall.

“Spread your legs,” he says so suddenly it gave you whiplash. Your head snaps up to him as you begin to plead.

He couldn't do this. There had to be some sort of refractory period in which he let your body recuperate.

“I’m in pain-” you grit out through your teeth, but his large hand is already seeping to the center of your closed legs, trying to pry them apart.

“Your legs work just fine.” He whispers, letting his mouth graze your ears, “Your cunt works just fine,”

You place a hand on his forearm. “The doctor said no strenuous activities.”

“Do you listen to the doctor or do you listen to me?” He asks, staring at you deep into your frightened eyes, forcing you into that liminal space of submission. Your eyes were brimming with not only fear but embarrassment.

“Spread your legs.” He whispers,

“I'm on my period,”

Another troubling moment of contemplation falls between you both and you're left to stare deep into each other's eyes as the restaurant's cultural music makes the ambience swell. It could be romantic, this energy that's festering between you two.

Even though you know it's anything but, you allow yourself to dip into those pools of delusion.

“You were fine this morning,” He says, and you note the grogginess that's begun to veneer his voice as he looks down at you.

Young, impressionable, darling you.

“I got it before we left, that's why I asked to use the bathroom again- point is,” you tug on his arm, “We can't.”

His eyes soften and for a split second, you think you see kindness there. Your gaze falls to his lips, anticipating the words they'd form.

“Spread your legs,” he says once more, before applying the necessary force to pry them apart yourself. “Let me in, Doll.”

A small whimper escapes you as you open your legs. You let him drift his hand under your skirt. His fingers are cold to the touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he inches them towards your cunt.

The second his fingers graze over your mound you gasp slightly before sitting forward with your head bowed. Your cast is behind the table as you hide your head in your hand. He watches you with heavy eyes, “It's rude to have your elbow on the table.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to muffle yourself by the palm of your hand. You feel him swipe your underwear away. You feel his fingers dip into the pool of wetness at your entrance. Wetness you knew was not arousal.

“Don't look at me like that,” you mumble, staring down at the table as his fingers rub against your slick folds.

“Like what?” He asks.

In your periphery you can see him hunched over you slightly, his eyes on you and you alone. It was tiring having his attention. And so incredibly dangerous.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.”

He bends down, letting his fingers graze over your clit as he whispers, “I do. That's all I wanna do.”

The waitress returns with your food and you mumble a quiet ‘thank you,’ While your Salesman keeps his gaze locked on you.

“Grind down on my hand,” he urges and you shake your head,

“Do it.”

“Or what?” That was probably the worst thing to say to a sadist who looks like he's brimming for you to give him a reason to hurt him.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you.”

You were feeling particularly stubborn today. The injury, the nurse, the hospital, the man and his wife… you're disgusted with this man beside. It dawns on you then that you have to get away from him.

“You can't do that-” you begin to whine but his voice is like steel when he reolies, “I thought we've established that there are many things I can do and very few I can't.”

All is quiet.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you, I've been dying to play in your blood.”

You're still wrestling with either of your options, trying to outweigh the good against the bad was impossible when both choices just seemed bad. It puts you at an unfair disadvantage and you are drowning.

“W-Wait-”

“Times up.” He mumbles before removing his hand from your underwear. You're utterly horrified to find it stained in crimson.

He calls over the waiter, at least having the decency to hide his bloody hand behind your back as he politely says, “My wife is quite sick, could I be pointed to the bathroom, please?” He sounds so amicable, so deceptively kind, of course the waitress quietly urges the two of you to the bathrooms nestled at the back of the resturant.

“I'll do it-” you breath heavile as he urges you past tables, “I'll do just-”

“You picked too late," he whispers in your ear as he steers you into the female bathrooms. “Disqualified.” He says before pushing you into a sta. You could only thank your lucky stars that the stalls are empty but that is where you luck runs dry.

It's only you and your monster who's fervently unzipping his pants before locking you both in a cubicle.

“My arm hurts-” you begin but he turns you around, pushing your back against the door.

“Your cunt still works.” He repeats, “I didn't get to drive a knife into it the last time-” he whispers hoarsely as he plays drunken kisses all across your collarbone. You hate to admit how dizzying the effect of his kisses are. How they carry you off into a completely different mental state- where everything becomes morally grey. You felt like you could get off to almost anything in this state and so you don't bat an eye when he says, “I need to see your blood on my cock,”

In fact, you moan, trying to find your bearings as you slip so far into subspace. “You're not allowed to pass out on me-” he says, manically, breathing oh so heavily as he pulls his cock out over his slacks. “I'm not even using any of our favorite toys, you do not get to pass out.” He warns before slotting himself between your legs.

“W-wait- pull your pants all the way down, otherwise-” you hiccup, “I'll make a mess.”

A deep and low groan reverberates through his chest and you watch him lower his pants all the way down, revealing sculpted legs before he brings his cock to your cunt. It's wet enough to allow him to slide in smoothly, and he looks down between you, pressing down on your tummy as he watches your blood soak his cock.

“Here taste your blood,” He's prying your teeth open and you let him. Crimson floods your mouth and you moan around his fingers. There's a manic sort of edge to his laugh as he admits, “I’m not gonna last quick.” before he's kisses you deeply, grinding himself into you

“Fuck- you're filthy.” His eyes are absolutely insane as he drives his cock into you setting an unforgiving ppace. He snaps his hips against you, trying to drive his cock in further and further.

“Cum- I'm gonna cum-” He pulls back to urge, just as you hear someone walk into the bathroom. He's breathing heavily, surprisingly being mindful of your cast as he dips his hand down to your cunt. His fingers drag across the blood like it's the most fascinating thing on earth, and that has you cunt tightening around him.

A toilet flush, just as a whimper seeps through your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you take his brutal fucking, watching him stab your cunt with his cock like he's daring himself to break you.

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling your violent cries as you buck your hips against him. Your own period pains that were flooding your system is beng fucked away. Your thighs and his pelvis are absolutely stained in crimson and his eyes are rolled back. Thankfully, the door opens and closes and you are alone once again.

“I love playing in your blood-” his voice cracks. Meanwhile, he's using you like a ragdoll. Through it all, you manage to ask the question plaguing your mind.

“Did he…” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut as the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, “Did your dad make it back?”

He rears his teeth, smiling in that twisted way that was far different from the smiles he gave everyone else. Only you got to see him like this. “Yes, Doll, he did.”

“W-What happened to him-oh god-” he picks up his pace grabbing your hips and pulling your cunt down on his cock.

“I killed him.” His eyes roll back into his skull and your mouth falls open. His cum floods your system and in that same moment his pelvis grazes along your clit, triggering your orgasm. You cum with tears in your eyes and it fills you with unmistakable dread.

If this man was capable of ending someone in his own bloodline, who were you in his eyes? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Don't look so scared.” He whispers, still grunting as he emptied himself inside you, “He was useless. You- you're not useless.”

He kisses your face. Everywhere he can.

“You look like you're about to have a panic attack. Compose yourself.”

You breathe in thickly.

In and out.

In and out.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forgiveness

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Cregan begs for his wife’s forgiveness when he accidentally injures her.

Warning: no use of y/n, dirty talk/mentions of smut, injuries, i'm pretty sure that's it

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

Cregan sat in his study, buried in letters and decrees that claimed they required the utmost attention. They all said that even if they truly did not require that level of priority. However, everyone wanted their Lord’s approval and signature, leaving him to sort through what was a priority and what could wait. In some ways he missed the war, at least he was fighting and protecting his realm then. He felt like a true lord then. Now, he may as well be a bureaucrat locked in some tower of the Red Keep, imprisoned by his own position.

As he moved on to some sort of land dispute, there was a harsh knock on his door. “Enter,” he called, not even looking up.

The large, heavy door swung open, revealing a guard. “Lady Stark, my lord,” he announced.

Interest piqued, Cregan looked up just in time to see the guard step aside, revealing his lady wife. Without having to be dismissed, the man exited, shutting the door behind him to leave the couple alone.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” his wife explained her presence, approaching his desk.

For the first time that day, the Warden of the North took a break from his work, setting his quill down and leaning back in his seat. Sparing a glance out the window, he realized that it was dark. It had only been mid-afternoon when he sat down to begin his bureaucratic duties. “I suppose you’re right,” he confirmed, recalling that he had gently pressed a kiss against his sleeping wife’s head when he woke before disappearing for the day.

Opening his arms, he invited her to approach. Taking his cue, the lady of the north took a seat on his lap, easily slotting into his body. It was a well known fact that the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were unusually affectionate for a pairing of such high status. Typically, love was reserved for those who did not marry for status, or for extramarital affairs. But it seemed the Stark couple had been quite lucky in their match.

“The day has ended, we should go to bed,” Cregan’s wife asked in a soft voice, her fingers trailing through the hair she swept away from his face.

He smiled, finding his tension soothed by her mere presence. “Aye, I wish that I could but this has to be done,” he sighed, gesturing to his desk still covered in documents.

Observing all the work, the lady sighed, leaning her head against her husband’s for a moment. “But you, my lord, are the Warden of the North. Who is to tell you when things must be done?” she asked suggestively, knowing what calling him ‘my lord,’ did to her husband.

Cregan let out the faintest growl, wanting to dive into his wife right there but he restrained himself. “Why I thought that was your job,” he teased.

Fortunately, she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Cregan want to mark her neck in the way he so loved. “Please,” she dismissed, “I can hardly get my own husband into bed. How can I tell you what to do?”

He chuckled. “Fortunately for no one, my discipline is strong enough to withstand your temptations. Although, I admit they are barely capable. I swear to you,” he began, gently lifting his wife from his lap, “that I will be in our chambers within the next hour,” he said, eyes flickering to the candle on his desk that was nearly at its end. “I expect you to be ready for me,” he uttered darkly.

His wife blushed like it was their wedding night again, despite hearing far more vulgar things from her husband. “And how shall you expect me?” she asked teasingly.

Cregan bit his lip. As adorable as he found his wife when she was shy and coy at the mere inclination of sex, he loved when she was daring and teasing. He thought for a moment, staying silent for longer than necessary only to create an illusion for his wife. “Naked. On our bed. With your fingers between your legs.”

~

Once again Cregan found himself locked away in his office, buried in endless paperwork. He was deeply entrenched in some matter of land disputes when the door suddenly burst open. Cregan looked up in astonishment, his mouth open to reprimand them for their dismissal of protocol.

“My apologies, my lord,” the out of breath guard interrupted. “But a wildling has attempted to enter Winterfell. Says he wants to be a southerner, like us.”

Cregan quirked a brow, utterly confused as to why this required so much urgency and why someone had dared call him a southerner. “And why does this require so much urgency that you have broken protocol?”

“The gatesmaster believes this may be some sort of ruse to breach the walls of Winterfell.”

Cregan nodded, standing up. As he exited his office, he found a group of guards standing outside, seemingly waiting to follow them outside. He did not say anything about the waste of manpower at his door but headed outside. “Which gate was it?” he asked.

“The north gate,” his guard answered.

Nodding, the Warden of the North headed out to the northern courtyard. As he exited the walls of the keep, he intended to greet the gatesmaster who stood talking to another sentry. But catching sight of the supposed wildling made him freeze. Standing there by the gate was a disheveled man, looking as if he had spent his entire life in the woods. And talking to him, unguarded, was the Lady of Winterfell.

Cregan abandoned his path towards his gatemaster to get his wife away from the wildling. Who would have possibly thought it would be wise to leave both the wildling and his wife unguarded, even more so to let them meet? He was not thinking clearly as he reached the pair, grabbing his wife’s arm to wrench her away from the vile man before her. He must have pulled harder than intended because she let out a yelp as he did so. Still, he did not comprehend it as he whirled around to face his men, still clutching her arm.

“Who left them unguarded?” he demanded, his voice booming so loud it silenced the entire courtyard. He watched in rage as the crowd of men all sent glances to one another.

The spell was only broken by his wife’s cry. “Cregan, you’re hurting me,” he heard his wife whimper. Finally looking at her, he realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. He relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on tight enough to push her so she stood in front of him, making himself a barrier between her and the wildling. She let out another cry as he jerked her, her free hand reaching for the hand clutched around her arm. She grabbed his wrist in a futile attempt to get him to let go. “Cregan, let go,” she cried again.

Seeing his wife’s face twisted in pain, the Lord of Winterfell realized what he had done. Quickly, he released his grasp, her arm falling into her own grasp. The cold air that whipped through Winterfell became biting as Cregan watched his wife cradle her arm against her chest, backing away from him as if he were the threat. As she backed up toward a guard, gesturing for him to escort her away, Cregan’s heart broke as he realized that in that moment, she felt safer with a guard than with him.

His jaw clenched as he leveled a glare to the men that had followed him, realizing that they had all run to tell him what was happening rather than do their actual jobs. He turned to his gatesmaster who had approached them by now, the few guards who had remained now taking hold of the wildling. “Take him to the dungeons I will deal with him later,” he gestured to the potential threat. “As to this lot, see to it they have nights watch for the next week.” He leveled one last glare at the group of men before heading back inside, intent on finding his wife.

Cregan was already planning his apology to his wife as he reached the hall that housed their chambers. As he walked down the hall, the guard that had escorted her earlier exited his chambers before taking his post just outside the door, sparking some level of unfounded jealousy.

As Cregan walked up to the door, the guard gave him a slight bow. “My lord,” he greeted. He did not reply, simply continuing toward the door, waiting for the guard to open it. But rather, he just spoke again, “The lady has asked me to inform you that she wishes to be left alone.”

Cregan stopped, looking incredulously at the guard. His words stung to hear. He had sworn an oath to protect his wife and had promised her parents that he would be a good husband and never hurt her. Yet here he stood, being barred from his wife by her own wish, with a man of his employ guarding her against him. The sentry looked deeply uncomfortable under his lord’s glare. He truly wanted to honor the wishes of his liege lady but her husband’s orders came first. Reluctantly he reached over, opening the door for the Lord of Winterfell.

Satisfied with his influence, Cregan strolled into his chambers, intending to begin the apology when he stopped short upon seeing the room empty. He turned to look at the guard as if to ask where his wife was. “Some maids escorted her to the maesters,” he informed nervously.

Cregan leveled yet another glare at the man before clenching his jaw and exiting the room, storming towards the maester. As the lord of Winterfell left, his guard briefly considered alternative employment.

Although Cregan had stormed towards the maester’s turret throughout Winterfell, he slowed as he approached the structure. Despite the guards posted outside holding the door open for him, he paused before the building, taking a breath. His wife’s scared expression flashed through his mind and that was a sight he never wanted to see again, yet he knew he would never forget it. The image made all the rage evaporate from him as he slowly entered the turret.

Ascending the stairs, he reached the healing room that he had often visited as a boy. Always having his training injuries and general wounds of boyhood treated here. Sat on the bench in only her shift and skirts was Cregan’s wife, having her arm bandaged in a way that held it to her chest, just as she had chosen to hold it.

Maester Kennet noticed the lord first, slowly halting his movements to look at the man. His wife turned to see the reason for the maester’s pause. She turned, finding her husband standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hollow version of himself. His face looked crestfallen as if he were informing them of a death.

Before she could snub him with a turned gaze, Cregan fell to a knee, his head bowed. “My lady, I truly do wish to apologize to you. I truly never meant to harm you,” he began, his voice dripping with a desire to be believed. “I swore an oath to protect you, as that was all I was trying to do. But instead, I hurt you, and that is a failure I will carry with me until my grave. I understand if you are unable to forgive me, I was being brash and absentminded. But all I ask is that I may be near you.” He looked up slowly, meeting his wife’s gaze. He could not read anything from it aside from pain.

Cregan had felt the pain of wounds of war before, but nothing hurt more than when his wife turned to look at Maester Kennet. But she only whispered a dismissal before looking back to her husband again. Cregan stood eagerly as the man’s hands gently left his wife’s shoulder before he approached his lord. The aging man paused beside Cregan, patting his shoulder momentarily before continuing down the stairs, leaving the couple in privacy.

Cautiously, Cregan approached his lady, once again crouching before her. “I truly am sorry,” he repeated. His wife said nothing as her gaze fell to her lap. But she turned her non-bound hand over in her lap, inviting his hand in hers. Cregan took it eagerly, his other hand going to her face to brush her hair aside as he gently grasped it. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too,” she cried, falling into him. Cregan caught her, careful of her shoulder as he held her close, even pressing a kiss to the injured area as if promising to care for her.

He continued to hold her and continued to apologize. “I truly did not intend to harm you. I just saw you standing with that wildling, unguarded and all I knew was that I had to get you away from him.”

A comforting hand in his hair soothed him, halting his words. “I know,” she assured. “Maester Kennet explained why you were so upset. I apologize for not being more cautious. I just felt he was being treated unjustly.”

Cregan pulled away only enough to look at his wife, nodding in understanding. “You have a large heart,” he commended. “And it is my job to protect it. Sometimes I get carried away with it.”

The lady smiled, “Well I don’t suppose I can fault you for that.”

Cregan smiled at her forgiveness, once again holding her close. With all forgiven, he gained a teasing lilt to his voice. “Did you send that guard to our chambers to intentionally mislead me?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, the teasing lilt finding her voice as well. But she attempted to distract from it with a stroke against his back. “I was quite irritated with you.” Cregan just chucked, the rumble of his laugh soothing his wife as they fell back into normalcy.

Masterlist

[i9messi]

Don't break up with me — Oscar Piastri

Because of a misunderstanding, Oscar thinks you want to break up with him. Signals made him suspect he was right, but in fact, you just want to surprise him with a new puppy.

word count — 1,3k

note: i promise you this is pure fluff and romantic stuff. oscar here loves reader soo much, so I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

Oscar started to think about the last half of the year. Everything in your relationship had been so wonderful in those last few months, almost too perfect to be real.

You went to support him to his races every weekend, had romantic dates in your favourite places, went to museums and book stores and enjoyed ordinary things such as going together to the market. You had a beautiful relationship, where you supported each other and talked about your concerns as well as your future. Having known each other since you were teens, you and Oscar had talked many times about what you wanted to do in the future: to get marry and start a family.

Your families were very close, his mother loved you and you loved her, even spent time with her when he was not around. Your side of the family adopted him as their son, showing love to him.

There was no way you would break up with him. It made no sense.

However, the signs were there. That morning before heading to the circuit he had called you and you interrupted him, saying you were busy. That would have made sense and it was fine, except then he talked later to his mom and she told him you had been texting her all morning. Why didn’t you want to talk to him?

It was bad. That couldn’t be happening.

“Oscaaaaaaaaaaarr.” Someone shouted and that made him come back to reality.

Lando was in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch. Oscar used to be the most calm in your relationship. He took things easy, used to think before taking action, but now thinking so much was turning him into a person full of insecurity.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked, realizing that his teammate was acting differently than usual.

“Nothing.”

“Is this about your girlfriend?”

Oscar didn't try to hide the truth, not with him. “I think she’s going to break up with me.”

Lando was silent for a moment, until he burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I feel bad. I’m devastated.”

“She’s not gonna break up with you, mate.”

You didn’t live together yet, you hadn’t taken that step in your relationship yet, but you practically lived next to each other. Your apartments in Monaco were only a few meters away. Yesterday he had invited you on a date and you told him that you couldn’t go. Lately it was as if you didn't want to spend your time together, as if his mere presence was annoying to you.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you're the perfect couple. You love each other, you show the world how adorable you are, and then make everyone else feel miserable.”

“I don’t think that’s true anymore, Lando.”

“Go talk to her, then. Crying and feeling bad about it won’t solve a thing. Go and win back your lady.”

Oscar listened to his teammate, knew he couldn’t waste time or the opportunity to talk with you. He found you just a few minutes later and you hugged him, while he left a kiss on your forehead.

“Baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Oscar. Congratulations for the race, I'm very proud of you.”

That had to mean something, didn’t it? If you hadn’t missed him and if you didn’t want him more in your life, you wouldn’t have answered that. Oscar was trying to convince himself that he still had a chance with you.

“Let’s go to my house.” he suggested, as you raised your head and looked at him with a face that showed no feelings.

“We better go to mine. We need to talk.”

Damn. You were going to break up with him. You never spoke like that, you had never said those words before.

On the way to your apartment in Monaco, he drove quietly. Oscar noticed you were nervous. You ran your hand through your hair and barely spoke. You were acting strange. He was increasingly convinced that once you arrived at your home, you would tell him that you wanted to break up with him.

The road was eternal and the worst of the worst. You arrived and stayed in the living room.

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and came back a few seconds later. He drank the water in a single instant, too thirsty and nervous.

“Is something wrong, Oscar?”

“Do you want to break up with me?”

You stayed silent, until Oscar spoke again. His eyes were shining, his hair was messy from all the times he had passed his hands over it.

“Don’t break up with me, please. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life, you're my everything. I love you, that’s all I know. If I did something wrong just tell me, I'll try my best to not make the same mistake again."

“Oscar, baby…”

He hesitated, but he walked a step closer to you. Oscar was trying to not lose his mind.

“We can’t break up."

His supplicant gaze begged you not to leave him, not when he needed you so much.

“I love you and my life would be shattered without you.”

And something happened. You smiled.

“Oscar, I’m not breaking up with you. I don’t know what made you think I would.”

Calm made Oscar relax, but he remained confused. He was very sure of all the signs he had seen, he wasn't crazy and he was not imagining things. You had been acting strangely in those last days.

“Then why have you been acting so weird?”

“Wait for me, I’ll be right back!”

You left and came back a while later with something in your arms. A little puppy.

“It’s for you, honey.”

Oscar couldn’t help but come closer to you to see the puppy. The animal looked at him with a little mistrust, but once his hand came to caress the dog, the puppy began to move his tail with happiness, while you saw him with a smile on your face.

“A dog? For me?”

“It was a surprise. I talked with your mum about it and she even helped me. When you'll be busy with work stuff, I will be taking care of him.”

Your boyfriend grabbed the animal in his arms, the puppy ran his tongue over his face and Oscar squinted his eyes, while he couldn't stop feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“l didn't expect this, thank you.”

“I would never break up with you, Oscar. You make me happy. That’s why I thought of adopting a puppy for you.”

“Then why were you acting so weird?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise. Yesterday I went to get him and that’s why I canceled our plans. Today the puppy peed in the clothes I was going to wear, just when you called. Also, he started barking and didn’t want you to find out. It was my little secret.”

Oscar had never been so happy, he left a kiss on your lips. Your mouths joined and he smiled so happily.

“I love you, you made me the happiest man in the world.”

“We have our little family now, Oscar. We are parents of a dog.”

Even as you planned to start a family when you were old enough, sharing the life of a pet was everything to him. Sharing the care and affection of a puppy made his tender and loving part appear.

“I love you and I love this animal. I will take care of you and him for my whole life.”

You weren't breaking up with him, that was the best part of all.

[chaoticwriting]

The First Son

All the batkids have one common secret they are keeping from Bruce. That is the fact that there is a new vigilante in town. At first they were confused when they heard rumors that the bats had a new member since Bruce hasn't introduced anyone to this guy.

It is only after a little prodding that they realize that the guy they are talking about is just a new vigilante. A good one too. No one has seen him and the only reason they know it's a he is because of his voice. The goons often call him The Phantom.

At first, they were very wary of this new guy. Last thing they need is a new guy who decides to do whatever the hell they want in the city. But no. Phantom doesn't interfere with anyone's works nor does he create chaos whenever he works. The guy operation is smooth and if not for the unconscious bodies sprawled on the ground, no one would even realize he is there.

The first contact they ever had with Phantom is when Phantom gives them a tip of an Arkham breakout in the planning. No one knows how he knows but he just is. His information gathering is better than any of them including Tim and Barbara. They also successfully established a way of contact between them. Whenever any of them need help, they will leave a sticky note on the bat signal and they will receive whatever intel they want the next day. They try to see him by staying right beside the signal and even setting up cameras but none of them works with either the sticky note straight up disappearing or the cameras becoming static with the sticky note getting replaced with the Intel when the static is gone.

And so they go like this for a few more months when suddenly a tip comes up from an unlikely source.

Talia Al-Ghul has informed them that because of desperation Ra's is planning on kidnapping Tim and Damian to use them in a battle against Talia. She has been working to take over the League of Assassin after she gained news of her own father having dark plans against his own son. After the recent fatal blow to her father's faction, in a desperate attempt to defeat her, decides to break his own words and plans to invade Gotham to take Damian as hostage and Tim to become his apprentice.

The batfamily goes on high alert especially since Talia herself is there with her assassins trying to help them. But unfortunately, they underestimate how determine Ra's is. Talia nor the batfamily don't expect that Ra's would be crazy enough to bring his whole faction to invade Gotham.

Tim and Damian are not having a good time. Let it be known that normally, they can easily take down anyone they want to if they work together. Unfortunately, their opponent today is Ra's Al-Ghul himself. If Batman, Cass or even Dick is here, they would easily be able to hold their own against him. But Tim's expertise is detective work while Damian is still young and are at a disadvantage in terms of physical strength and experience.

Everyone is fighting to get backup to Tim but with the Supes out of this world and most other heroes busy with their own works, it is quite hard to deal with the assassins. That is until all the assassins are frozen on the ground. They don't know how or why but the assassins are now fully covered in ice with only their heads out.

A figure forms slowly in front of Ra's as his blade inches slowly towards Tim. A loud metal clanging sounded destroying the silence that has befallen the whole battlefield. In front of them is a man with black hair, blue eyes and very very tall. On his hand is a Khopesh that is directly parrying Ra's katana.

"Hello father."

The voice sends a chill into everyone who hears it. But for the Batkids, they know that voice. That is the same voice that is often heard whenever they try to communicate with Phantom. That means, the guy in front of them is Phantom.

"No no no. Impossible. I killed you by my own hand. There is no way you are here. An imposter. That's what you are."

Ra's says as everyone can feel the tremble and fear in his voice. And for the record the bats and Talia have heard Ra's voice being in fear before but this is different. This is the fear that you showed when you are in front of your natural predators. Your death.

"Indeed. It is a mistake for me to believe that you would love like I used to love you, father. And I loathe myself thinking about it. For the longest time revenge has been on my mind. But some people have helped me in letting go of the past. People who truly see me and treat me like family."

"How? How are you still alive? The Lazarus Pit swallows your body as a sacrifice."

"The Pit does no such thing. When you put me in there, you merely set me free. The Pit claims me as one of her own. And she takes pity on my life and decides to give me a better one. And for that I will be eternally grateful to her."

In a fit of madness, Ra's swings his sword towards Phantom. He doesn't want to hear any of it anymore. He needs to kill Phantom now. Before he-

A kick sends him flying across the rooftop towards the other side. Ra's roll on the ground growling in pain. That kick specifically aims to give me the most pain without damaging his body in the slightest. A feat that can easily be done by a very skilled martial artist.

Phantom picks up Tim and Damian that is still on the ground. With Damian fully unconscious and Tim barely conscious, Phantom sends them to the ground using what the other thought to be some form of telekinesis. They slowly pick Tim and Damian and after making sure Tim and Damian aren't in imminent danger, they try to make contact with Phantom, when a dome of ice erected from the ground surrounding both Phantom and Ra's.

Phantom holds his sword in by his side and slowly walks towards Ra's.

"My name is Danyal Al-Ghul. The first son of Ra's Al-Ghul. Today, I am here to formally challenge Ra's Al-Ghul to a death match on account of the continuation of the unsolved battle 500 years ago. All the members of the league are to be witnesses of this battle."

That sentence sends dread to everyone present. Talia knows of this tradition. A tradition that is used by her father to take down any opposition to his rule. That's why she has never confronted his father head on. She is not confident that she can win against him.

Ra's knows that he can't hide any longer. Last time he wins is barely because of an ambush and Danyal was poisoned. He would have never won otherwise.

Usually, Ra's prided himself in being a warrior. Who will dare to look death in the eyes to challenge it to battle. But people that are close to him knows that he is a coward. A coward that is so scared of death, who will do anything to run against it. But now, he can no longer run. Death has finally made his way towards his doorstep. Death in the form of his first son. The very son who he killed because of a prophecy he heard from a seer.

'You shall die a worthless death. At the hand of your greatest creation. He will be your end. The one who will put out your flames of life. Your first son.'

He has been enraged when the seer says that. He killed the old woman and even prepared a plan to kill his own son. The son that trusted him. He first sends him on a big mission where he knew Danyal would never fail. Then he makes a grand celebration when he returns. That's when he poisoned him, reducing his strength to barely a tenth of his full strength.

Even then, Danyal had put up a tough fight. Claiming Ra's hand while fighting him. He thought that he succeeded when life left his son's body. But he is greedy. He tries to awaken him again to make him into his perfect warrior. But the Lazarus Pit swallows him. Leaving no trace behind.

For the longest time, Ra's hid the existence of this son. He is his greatest creation. He is also his greatest shame.

Danyal walks slowly towards Ra's. The others are trying to crack open his ice dome but unless he wills it, even the sun can't melt his ice. Ra's is kneeling right there. Seemingly given up any chance of retaliation. Both of them knew that Danyal is the superior one between the two. Either intellect or strength. Danyal has and will always be better.

Putting the sword on his neck, Danyal asks him. "Any last words father?"

Ra's looks at him with an empty eyes that suddenly gains light as he thrust his katana straight into Danyal's chest. Ra's is about to laugh in victory as he thinks he has outsmarted his son again but then he realizes that his son is still standing there with his sword on his neck.

"Goodbye father." And with that, Ra's head flies into the sky and falls on the floor. Danyal can hear the screaming and shouting from the outside but he doesn't care. He has done it. His long forgotten revenge. His blood feud.

He looks at his father's corpse and burns it to ashes. He has made sure that the old man's soul has completely dispersed after the soul of people he kills unjustly has taken him apart one by one. What a gruesome death. Appropriate for such a vile human.

Danyal looks at people he can consider friends. He could see worry and Nightwing's and Spoiler's eyes, respect in Red Hood mannerism and confusion in Black Bat's body language. He has made sure no one sees Ra's body when he kills him since he knows some of them can read body language too well.

Looking at Talia, his sister, Danyal gives a nod, disperse the ice and disappears. Talia later takes control of all the assassins and they return back to their base after a quick talk with Batman. They heard the conversation from inside the dome. So they knew a little about what was happening.

After that night, Phantom completely disappears without any trace whatsoever.

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

also, something crucially important is that you can let go of what someone did without forgiving them. functionally, it’s practically identical to forgiving someone who you don’t keep in your life anymore (be that by your choice, theirs, or merely circumstances), bc it’s only in your own head either way. you’re not going to hit this person up to say you forgive them if you don’t want to keep that connection open, and you’re not going to hit them up to say you’ve moved on and you’re letting go, either. the only difference, truly, is that choosing to let go instead of forgive the other person centers YOU over them.

if someone isn’t in your life anymore, it doesn’t really matter to them if you privately and internally forgive them or not, nor does it matter to them if you let go or hold on. it can’t matter to them when they can’t know what your decision is. when people say you need forgiveness for your peace, what they actually mean is that you need to let go of what happened and not hold on to anger or pain or sorrow. but forgiveness isn’t necessary to let go of all that stuff.

i’ll never forgive my first two exes for what they did to me, one of them having been overtly abusive (to the point that after breaking up with me, she manipulated my next gf into breaking up with me too so she could lure me back in, and it worked) and the other having been more mild than her younger counterpart but she was simply 18 dating a 14-year-old and expecting her 14-year-old partner to act her age, which was 4 years older than my age at that time. both of these girls, now women, hurt me immensely. and i still have work to do to uncover exactly how much they hurt me and what i can do to keep their effect on me from affecting others around me, through me… but i HAVE let go. i can’t hold that anger and pain and sorrow from 10 years ago anymore. i can’t change the fact that they did what they did to me. i can only tell myself that i refuse to let them continue holding power over me, and release that power by letting go of what they did and their presence in my mind. i did this quite a while ago, when one of them texted me a long rambly message and, instead of telling her how fucked up she was for dating someone 4 years younger than her at 18 and expecting me to act like someone her age, i just told her she had the wrong number and then blocked her. this was about 5 years ago now. at that moment i realised that i didn’t want to be miserable like that. she had held onto whatever hurt she got out of our relationship for like 5 years at that point, to the point she couldn’t be in the room when a movie we both used to love came on and restrain herself from sending me a text, wailing as a wounded animal. i didn’t want that kind of future.

i still think about them both, but i’m over being miserable about it. i have shit to unpack but when i’m done, i’ll be done. i’m not trying to wallow in that. THAT’S what letting go and protecting your peace is about. that’s the core of it. you can choose to forgive them, or you can choose not to, but you can’t wallow in your pain. it’s hard, but you have to let it go. it’ll only burn you more if you hold on.

it’s not about forgiveness. that part is completely optional. it’s about release

Think I used to get bogged down in “do I forgive this person” “do I even out the scales” “should I stand my ground” but really the question I should be asking is “what would be better for me” bc really. What would be better for me in the long term. What would stay true to my self respect and boundaries and values? What would provide the best outcome? What would make the most of our time? Sometimes that’s forgiveness and sometimes it’s not and I don’t think either route is necessarily morally superior to the other so long as it minimizes harm and is fair while also prioritizing your happiness

[ceesimz]

Lavender

A date that unfortunately doesn't go as planned. (autistic!reader - angst -> fluff)

Reverie series here as always! A verrrry real experience depicted in this one, with some amazing help from @pickledwoso that i am very grateful for, thank youuu <3

“Engel, are you ready to leave?” Alexia sang as she headed out of the bedroom towards where you were at the door rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, waiting for her.

“Yes, you fool, I've been ready for the past half hour.” You rolled your eyes at her teasingly, laughing when she lightly pawed at your side where she knew you were ticklish. “Come on! You're taking all day.”

“Ay, it is our day-off, I can take my time for once. No rushing, just calm, and me and you.” She gave an alluring smile, sliding her hand down your arm until she intertwined your fingers, then leaned forwards to kiss your forehead. “Are you excited?”

“Very. I love when we do this.” You told her with a squeeze of her hand. The girl grinned, her eyes brimming with excitement and complete happiness seeping from her pores, like the prospect of visiting a farmer's market with her girlfriend was as exciting as a third Ballon d’Or.

“Me too.” She gently knocked your chin up and pecked your lips before brushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, are we ready, mi vida?”

“For the love of god, yes!”

Any time the club issued some days-off, one of the things highest on the list for yourself and Alexia was visiting the local farmer’s market. You’d buy the best of the best fresh organic products and cook together a dish of food that, combined with the quality time you'd spend with each other, would make for a night-in together that was so much better than going out somewhere. 

These days had become somewhat of a tradition, and with it being the penultimate day of the short summer break after the tournament Alexia had gone to, it was absolute perfection. The last day had no plans apart from relaxing and spending time together before the season started again. You couldn't think of a better way to spend the last bit of time off than a date to a familiar, easy place with Alexia that was sure to give way for a fun afternoon and evening.

With it being the height of summer, Barcelona was especially warm, which was perhaps the first warning sign of the day.

“Ale, you really need to get your car in the garage, your AC sucks.” You groaned, the vents on full blast yet hardly doing a thing to cool you down against the 35 degree air outside. Your window was open and your head rested against the door dramatically, Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight even if she did feel a little bad about it.

“It’s got a service next week, they will fix it then. Sorry.” She winced, hardly breaking a sweat in the weather she was more than acclimated to whilst you seemed to be struggling before the pair of you had even left the car.

You shrugged her off because it's not exactly her fault her car's AC has been faulty since the spring, and focused all your attention on the life-saving breeze hitting your face as Alexia maneuvered through some tame midday traffic. Hot weather wasn't one of your favourite things in the world, as a matter of fact much more comfortable in minus degree weather with tiny icicles on your eyelashes, but a year into living under the blaze of the Barna sun you had no choice but to put up with it.

Though, your patience with the heat wore off quick. And in its wake, a simmering feeling of restlessness, which should have been yet another warning sign. But you were too deep in your determination for this to be a good day for anything to write you off.

The market was only a short drive away, the two of you having opted out of walking because, well, duh, the weather, and just as the sweat that found its place on your nose no more than five minutes after stepping out of your ice cold shower finally began to evaporate, it came crawling right back the second you got out of the car. Alexia was starting to feel uneasy about the day's plans, and, really, so were you, but you were set on pushing through the constrictive feeling that had settled in your bones when the first bit of heat came your way after leaving your flat. There wouldn't be much time in the coming weeks for a day like this with your girlfriend, you weren't about to wreck it for the both of you.

From where the car was parked to the entrance of the market, you walked in silence, hand in hand across slightly worn stone tiles until the rusted old gates of the park stood before you. Over the threshold of the entrance, paved tiles turning to cobble, you knew the chaos the market had in store for you. You didn’t know if you could handle it. The writing on the wall was in the prickly sensation in your skin that was all too familiar, as was the way every nerve in your body screamed in discomfort, almost like your soul was desperately trying to find a way out of your body.

You ignored it, and headed towards the stalls before Alexia could ask how you were.

This place was familiar; you knew the ins and outs of each stall, you knew where to go, you knew how long it took to get around. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

You loved this place, of course it’d be fine. It beamed with energy, with good vibes, with good people. With its colourful displays of the finest fruit and vegetables, it was more than just a market; it was the heartbeat of the surrounding neigbourhoods.

All kinds of scents and aromas swirled around each corner, weaving themselves into the fabrics of people’s clothes and lingering long after they’d left. They were intoxicatingly good, and it was evident in the looks of wonder on everybody’s face, old or young, experienced shopper or recent newcomer. Vendors positioned at every stall or tattered wagon called out their offerings in a chaotic yet melodic mix of Spanish and Catalan, grabbing the nearest fruit or veg to wave around like an auctioneer with a hammer, the only use for it being to wave off the flies dancing tauntingly around their goods. 

Locals haggled over prices with the farmers they’d come to know just as well as their own family; their loud and boisterous back-and-forth banter may have sounded like arguing to unknowing tourists, but to everyone else it was understood as just some good-humoured ribbing that they all delighted in. It was more of a shuffle than a walk throughout the place thanks to the tourists that seemed to stop in the middle of the aisles every second, clearly oblivious to the well-practiced dance of the locals. Elderly ladies pulled their clueless esposos around with one arm whilst they carried their wicker basket in the other, the woven willow groaning under the weight of the countless ingredients to be used in that night’s meal.

For a moment, as you paused off to the side whilst Alexia caught up with one of the stall owners, a fisherman with his catches of the week proudly on display, which you knew your girlfriend would end the conversation by buying enough fish meat to feed the five thousand, you took a moment to breathe. Everybody seemed relieved of their life’s burdens here, gathered closely in one space that was steeped in the essence of the world’s simplest pleasures; flavour, tradition, and community. Only, the smile that was usually imprinted on your face whenever you came was no more than a distant memory. 

Despite the fairly shadowed area, considering the park was fenced in by sporadic trees that skimmed the roofs of buildings that showed off the city’s beautiful architecture, it was still insufferably hot. It radiated off of the ground, rebounded off the buildings around, and the flurry of structures meant there was no wind breaking through to give a cool Mediterranean breeze like you had before. 

Alexia seemed none the wiser, enraptured by the surroundings like it was her first time there, her head on a swivel and marveling at the mouth-wateringly exceptional variety of things to choose from. You hadn’t really been taking it in, your eyes stuck to the back of her head as you followed her through, waiting on shaking legs whenever she laughed and joked with each worker she bought from. 

This labyrinth of every cook’s dream was well and truly alive, but you weren’t. You couldn’t absorb the intense feeling of belonging and sonder you got whenever you came here. It was too much. The thought ate away at you, as with every fly that landed on your skin or every person that brushed against you, you became more and more on edge. 

All the different smells, the different sounds, the crowd of people, they didn’t spark those usual feelings of contentment and peace that transpired for you normally. Instead, they felt oppressive, like they were attacking your senses. 

The concoction of aromas forced themselves inside your nose and overloaded you completely, the squeamish smell of fish and the fiery linger of hundreds of kinds of herbs and spices bringing on a pounding headache. Every squeak of a wicker basket as the willow was put under more pressure could have been a gunshot for all you knew, the way it echoed around the tunnels of your ears. Anytime someone briefly put a hand on you as they moved past had you flinching, hating the unexpected contact as it was the last thing you needed in such a situation.

You didn’t find any comfort whatsoever in how Alexia’s hand never left yours for more than a minute, when normally it was something that grounded you. Her usually funny comments and little facts and point-outs of detail about her ‘second home’ (the name she had given it as she’d been coming here since she was young) didn’t make you feel any brighter, in fact you were pretty sure you missed most of them.

And as every minute passed, it appeared to get busier and busier, until it started to feel like you were in some kind of mosh pit, people bouncing off of you with every turn only for the next one to come along no more than a second later. You couldn’t hear a word Alexia was speaking, the once calming mix of languages turned into a booming echo of voices that were so close they seemed to be knocking on the bone of your skull, yet too distant for you to make out what anyone was saying, making it all so. much. worse.

Every voice, every footstep, every hearty laughter and every scrape of wood along the floor grated against your ears, all noises around amplified to immeasurable heights. The space was far too loud and far too crowded – each sensation you felt blurred into the next until it became impossible to separate from one another. But you did feel how each individual muscle tensed, from your legs to your shoulders, as Alexia continued to pull you through the market. 

You were hyperaware of everything around you and it soon became unbearable. But Alexia was happy, she chatted away like nothing was happening, comfortable and content as her canvas bag brimmed with stuff you didn’t even realise she had bought. You soldiered on, or at least tried to.

Until, your breathing began to quicken, your lungs unable to take in any of the stuffy air you walked through, your chest tightening in a way that only caused you to panic impossibly more. Each piece of fabric from your clothes grazed against your skin like a hundred scratches in a single second, your shirt and shorts beginning to feel like they were getting tighter with each step you took. And when the claustrophobia, the feeling like there was no escape at all, began to really set in, the day was over.

Your resolve had completely eroded. You tried to focus on grounding yourself — reminding yourself this was a safe space, but that was an empty claim to make to your shredded composure. You tried convincing your mind that Alexia’s hand in yours was comforting, when it only felt constrictive, her hand wholly enveloping yours like a snake, leaving no room to breathe. You clenched and unclenched your fist in time with your breaths, but you couldn't even inhale for a second before your mind went into overdrive. All the tools you relied on before were inadequate in that moment. The rational part of your brain slipped away, instead replaced by an instinctive need to escape. 

Surges of anger, panic, anxiety, fear, they all rose uncontrollably at once. Your jaw clenched, your free hand curled into a tight fist, and your vision turned hazy as your world dissolved into one indistinct blur.

The snapping point came abruptly. Perhaps it was a shrill laugh nearby, the clatter of a crate being dropped, or an impatient shove from someone trying to pass by. It was the smallest thing, but it tipped the scale far out of anybody’s control. You were alone in that moment. Trapped completely in your mind.

You missed how Alexia called your name over and over, how her hand nudged yours to desperately try to grasp your attention. It was only when her hands grabbed both your forearms that you were brought back down, but only for half a millisecond, before it all went south.

“What?!” You snapped at her, jumping back out of her touch. 

As a result, there were about thirty pairs of eyes on you. Everybody around paused, your sharp shout cutting through the buzz of the market, and it went so quiet that every flutter of a fly’s wing and every creek of wood could be heard. 

You took another step back when Alexia came towards you, a worrisome look on her face with her hands out in front of her like she was trying to not spook an untrusting animal in front of her. She rushed out some words of reassurance that fell into the background with all the other noises around that had picked up again, the market-goers losing interest in a seemingly harmless situation. They didn’t register within you, nor did her intentions. Your mind was far too good at playing tricks on you, convincing you of things that were far from the truth but in the moment felt like gospel.

There was no way out of where you were, both in the physical and the mental sense, and that was the main factor in the eruption that had just happened. With so many emotions coursing through you, there was an intense itch to find a release from them all. So before you realised, your arms crossed over your chest, hands on your upper arms just above your elbow, and you began to roughly palm, rub, grab at the skin there, needing a distraction from the volume of your mind and the world, whilst also desperately trying to get the movement to act as a release of the crushing press of the feelings inside of you. 

If you were alone at that time, god only knows what would have happened. Fortunately you weren’t.

The next time Alexia touched you was the featherlight weight of her hand on your lower back, the minor contact enough to lead you through the winding paths of the market. Your legs ran on autopilot, but you stumbled with every few steps, eyes too blurry to see the bumps and dips in the cobbles underneath your feet. There were probably tears down your face, though you’d reached such a broken point that your body was just… numb. You weren’t in control of anything anymore, hadn’t been for a while, but this was a new extremity. You weren’t even present in your own mind. Just an innocent, unknowing passenger in the car crash that had come out of nowhere.

Somehow, with her own hands trembling from concern, Alexia managed to lead you out of the chaos of the market to those same rusted, paint-chipped gates from earlier— the entrance of the park area. She was lost on what to do or say, but rationally she knew the only thing that would work for you right now was getting you home. 

“I will drive us back to your flat, back home, okay?” 

You gave her no indication that you heard her, which she was expecting, though you had heard the one word you were in dire need of and it was the first thing so far that managed to break through into your overwhelmed mind. Your hands were still moving roughly against the skin of your arms, sure to leave marks afterwards, but Alexia knew if she attempted to stop you, it’d only make matters worse. She had to get you home. Seeing you like this was breaking her.

It took a concerningly small amount of effort to guide you to the car; you were pliant and mindless, the exhaustion having fully taken over the minute you left the crowded space. She opened the door for you, helped you into the seat, and put the belt on. You leaned your head back against the seat rest and stared straight ahead. Whether it’d help or not, Alexia wasn’t sure. But she had to do one thing, more for the sake of her sanity than yours. With a quiet call of your name, she gently put a hand under your chin and turned you so you faced her.

“I’ll take you home and look after you. You will be okay.” She whispered, tentatively brushing away some of the tears still on your cheeks with her thumb. Her words were a sentiment for her as much as they were for you. “You’ll be okay soon.”

—

Next thing you knew, you were in your bed, lay on your side with your weighted blanket over you and Alexia nowhere to be seen.

It was definitely the calm after the storm. The room was mostly dark apart from the light that bled through the curtains which were closed, you could hear the quiet whir of the AC as well as the dull hum of traffic on the street below, but that was about it. It was a stark contrast to how things were before.

You don’t exactly remember getting home after what happened after the market, but what you did know was that though Alexia wasn’t in the room, she had been at some point, because you felt her love in the way she made sure everything was properly set up for you. The AC hadn’t been on before you left earlier and it only could have come back on by someone turning it on. The curtains were open that morning, whereas now they were drawn. And last time you checked, your blanket was still in the dryer, waiting to be taken out when you got back. 

Everything you felt earlier still echoed faintly inside your head and chest, but the weighted blanket over you helped to anchor you back to your life again, rather than the chaos you were drowning in not so long ago. Your mind was convoluted, thoughts jumbled, and you flitted from one shattered fragment of insecurity to the other. You were simply too exhausted to hold onto any of them, emotionally and mentally drained. Though, you still tried to identify what you were feeling— was it anger? Shame? Embarrassment? You couldn’t put a finger on it. 

Your hands still shook, your chest still shuddered with every breath. Your clothes still felt scratchy and overbearing, just less so now that you lay in the aftermath of it all. Instead of focusing on that, you drifted your attention to the feeling of the blanket on you; you focused on its texture, its softness, the heaviness of it and how it draped over you and helped to extinguish the flame that was overstimulation and overwhelm. These small but familiar details offered a tiny foothold in the mirror maze of your mind that you were still trying to escape from, only for the ruined reflection of you at the market to be shown back to you.

The longer you spent in that position, a deep, bone-level weariness quietly consumed you, like every aspect of you right down to your soul had been drained. But even still, your mind continued its hyperactive ways, replaying the day’s events over and over like a faulty film reel. The memory of it isn’t the slightest bit cohesive, it was just flashes of moments— the suffocating press of people from every direction, clamour of voices, the overloading mixture of scents. You alternated between frustration and exasperation, wanting to desperately forget what happened whilst not being able to move on from the embarrassment of it. 

However, the strain of it slowly began to dissipate with each minute you spent back at home in bed, a safe space where there were no expectations, where time was temporarily unimportant, and where there were no watchful eyes or scathing glares at the disruption you’d caused. And eventually, you felt like you had gained back control of your mind again. It was quieter then; the world felt muted, less aggressive, though you could feel that you were still wary of your surroundings because of how everything ambushed you earlier.

You weren’t fully recovered, you still felt heavy and your body ached due to the tension in your muscles and joints when it all came falling down, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but the sun sat a little lower on the horizon when you finally felt able to get out of bed. The desire for time alone had gone, you needed something else then, and at this point of the relationship you felt comfortable enough to seek exactly what you needed without giving it a second thought. 

The door to your room creaked like it always did when you opened it, your apartment mostly silent save for the occasional huff from the kitchen as the person you were looking for busied herself with any chore she could think of as she waited patiently for you. 

You didn’t quite know what to say, but one of the best things about your relationship was that often in times like this, words weren’t a necessity. So you bypassed her and headed straight for the sofa, sitting in the corner and curling your feet underneath you, almost like you were making yourself as small as possible. And, just as you expected, not a minute went by before the blonde headed over, trying to disguise the worry she felt by giving a tight-lipped smile that was more on the amusing side than the reassuring one.

When she sat down, however, she left a gap between you both and perched only on the edge, which wasn’t what you wanted. One shared glance later and Alexia was smiling properly this time, shuffling to sit back against the cushions and beckoning you over with a small wave of her hand. With a sheepish but slightly triumphant look on your face, you moved along the couch and chose to sit sideways on her lap, one of her arms immediately wrapping around your waist as the hand of the other landed just above your knee. She pulled you close to her, and you settled into her with a relieved sigh, indescribably glad to have the final piece of the puzzle to self-regulation in your possession.

For some time, the pair of you didn’t speak, only relishing in the comfort you both needed after the day that had been had. At some point, Alexia noticed the redness to your skin from earlier and subconsciously brought a hand up to one of your arms, her thumb gently tracing over them with a frown on her face. She felt compelled to speak then.

“Please, engel, don’t put yourself through uncomfortable situations just to make me happy. If you asked me to, I would have taken you home earlier in a heartbeat.” The midfielder said carefully, panicking a little when she heard you sigh before calming when you buried your face in her neck.

“I didn’t really know it was going to be uncomfortable until it was already happening.” You told her in a mumbled, downbeat tone that made her hug you tighter against her. She contemplated her next words, wondering whether it was wise to voice them or not, before deciding that you’d hate it if you found out she’d kept her feelings from you.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.” Her fear and sadness was evident when she spoke, matching the frown still on her face and the furrow to her brow. You pressed your lips to the skin of her jaw in a somewhat apologetic gesture, which made her feel a little bad. “We’re both okay though, mi amor. I love you and we’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s over now, it’s in the past, and we’re here together now.”

It might have been a minor reminder, but it relieved a lot of the remaining anxieties and insecurities you had. Even though she made sure you knew she never judged you for anything, you were only human, and sometimes the devil on your shoulder got the best of you. So, to hear her say she knew it wasn’t your fault and that she wasn’t angry, it was… very needed.

The mix of physical touch and words of affirmation never failed to work wonders for you. The period of time after an event like earlier was a delicate time to say the least, where your mind and your self-esteem was easily swayed by whatever reaction waited for you afterwards. Having Alexia be so welcoming, non-judgemental, caring and adoring even after what she’d witnessed made a world of a difference.

“Better day tomorrow?” You said shyly after moving back to look at her. She shook her head at first, which greatly confused you, before she smiled brightly, softly, reassuringly, and leaned forwards to kiss your temple.

“Better evening tonight after a bad day. And then a very good day tomorrow.” Her words were a little skewed, probably lost in translation, but you understand what she was getting at and it warmed your heart all the same.

It was important to you then, that you voiced your thoughts from just a moment ago. She had to know how important she was to you.

“Thank you, Ale. For everything.” You started, laughing quietly at the puzzled expression on her face. “You always know what to do, what to say. You always make me feel better after a day like this and I don’t know how you do it but… you changed my life.”

Her reaction was the sweetest. Her cheeks blushed red and she turned away for a moment with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head.

“I don’t know about that, cariño.” She murmured, but you weren’t having it. You put a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to you, ensuring she met your gaze before you spoke again.

“You did. I really mean it. I think about it a lot, how you’ve changed me, how I see myself because of you and how you treat me.” You paused for a moment, smiling up at her as her eyes silently urged you to continue. “I… value myself more because of how you value me. I don’t tell you enough how grateful I am for you and what you really mean to me. You’re the greatest person I have ever met.”

The normally sure and confident captain was rendered speechless in that moment, completely caught off guard and lost for words. How she could ever match the gravity and beauty of your words, she didn’t know. But they meant so much more to her than she knew she could ever express.

Ale ducked her head down for a moment as she really took in your words, before she lifted it back up again a moment later, with tears in her eyes. 

If only you knew how much you meant to her too.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know that?” She said with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, almost accusing you of foolishly being uncertain about the fact that she stated so definitively. You knew she only did that to deflect the softness of her words a little. So, you just smiled, and tucked your head back into her neck and closed your eyes, completely at peace. “My favourite person in the whole world. You changed my life too.”

—

i really really tried my best to encapsulate the autistic experience of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in such a place here but i have no idea how well it comes across to a large audience. but for me and probably others, this is the reality, no matter how much you can plan and prepare and be excited for something, it can spiral out of your control so quickly and it's definitely a downer when it happens. hope this is somewhat understandable, im gonna go hibernate out of fear now, thank you v much for reading :)

[sthilarions]

Charles almost gets killed by a torture hex. Pain is the most effective way to kill a ghost, and Charles is so so strong but not built for suffering like Edwin is, and Charles is already fading when Edwin finally finds the right counter-spell and drags him back to solidity.

Two days later, Charles gets almost torn in half by a giant monster, and Edwin knits him back together with giggling ringing in his ears and green light at the corners of his vision. Edwin’s hands dig into Charles’s wounds and pull Charles back together with a combination of magic and sheer force of will and every twitch of Edwin’s fingers drags tortured sounds out of Charles’s mouth, and it’s right about when Edwin pulls the last bit of skin together and Charles screams that Edwin thinks please, God, Despair, Death, whoever is there, whoever cares, let me take his pain, I’d take all of his pain to never have him hurt again.

It’s another day after that, when he’s reading through a book of healing spells to find a way to make sure this never happens again, that he gets an idea.

It’s another week, full of research and muttering and scribbled runes, before he comes to Charles with what is, as far as Charles knows, a pretty standard request. “I’ve found another protection spell for you. Stand there - to your left a little - good. It can’t stop you from getting injured, but it will take most or all of the pain of the injuries.”

“Oh, wow, that’s brills, mate! I could fight way better like that. I mean, pain is almost all ghost injuries are, anyway, yeah? That’s amazing!”

Edwin casts the spell, handwritten across several sheets of paper, and the glow as it sets in to Charles’s skin blanks out his vision long enough that he doesn’t see Edwin’s skin flush golden, too.

Edwin declines Charles’s suggestion to test the spell outside of combat, so Charles is still a little unsure for the first fight, but when he gets slashed with a cat-claw blade and feels absolutely nothing, he looks down at himself, grins almost maniacally, and wades back into the fight like he’s unstoppable.

He does seem to be, in fact. He fights like Superman, all but invulnerable, and Edwin says his combat efficiency has increased over 30 percent. He throws himself at monsters and ghosts and demons and takes them down with barely a twinge, no matter how hard they hit.

Edwin’s taken to standing further back than he used to in fights, which Charles figures is because the fights are getting into melee more than they used to.

They’re fighting some bastard with a hellwhip, all fire and iron barbs, when the first thing goes wrong. Charles gets hit, and he feels the twinge that’s all he gets from the worst hits now, but through the twinge he hears Edwin gasp.

He turns to Edwin and the whip hits him square in the back as he turns, and Edwin lets out a strangled groan.

Edwin seems to realize Charles is too distracted to do his job, because he dispatches the whippy bastard with a spell, and Charles is to him in a moment. But Edwin snaps and brushes him off and demands to tend to Charles’s injuries, because not hurting doesn’t mean they can’t be dangerous. As he tends to the wounds, Edwin’s breath keeps hitching, and Charles can’t get him to say why.

A week later and Charles gets hit with that same damn torture hex, because apparently they didn’t do a good enough job of defeating that wizard the first time. And he thinks for a second that this might be what finally breaks through Edwin’s protection spell, but it’s still only a twinge, albeit the harshest one yet - but Edwin lets out a suffocated yelp from behind him.

Charles starts to turn, and the wizard looks frustrated, and throws the hex at Charles again. And Edwin goes down to his knees.

And the wizard hexes Charles again, and Edwin curls forward, his breath in quiet pants that for a second are the focus of Charles’s entire world.

Charles puts some things together very, very quickly, and then before the wizard can try another spell, his head’s rolling on the floor.

—

Edwin has never seen Charles this angry at anyone, not in the thirty-one years they’ve been together. He had never imagined that Charles could possibly be this angry at him.

—

Charles screams at Edwin for hours, tears dripping down his face and vanishing before they hit his chest.

He pauses every hour or so and demands Edwin take off the fucking “protection spell” right fucking now, and every time Edwin refuses, and Charles starts yelling again.

Normally crying makes Charles’s throat hurt, one of the few bits of quotidian pain that stuck with him to ghost-hood. He doesn’t notice that it isn’t hurting now until a bit after sunrise, when Edwin refuses again, and Charles notices his voice is hoarse and tight.

Charles stops.

He turns away.

“No more cases, Edwin.”

“What?”

“I am not working on any cases, I am not doing anything that could put either of us in danger, until this spell is off.”

“You can’t - “

“I’ll see you later, Edwin.”

Charles walks out of the office, and Edwin stands staring after him.

—

It takes a month. A month of Charles spending time out of the office, and chilly silences, and Edwin trying to make arguments for his position and only getting a few words in before Charles is out the door.

Charles gets back, one day, to see Edwin sitting on the floor of the closet, holding a box of Cluedo in his lap, which they haven’t used since Charles found out.

“I’ll take it off.” Edwin’s looking down at the box, refusing to meet Charles’s eyes. Charles nods.

It doesn’t take very long for Edwin to work the counter-spell, and Charles immediately tests it, grabs for the first magical weapon in his bag and presses it against his hand. It hurts, and he presses harder until there’s a drop of blood and it’s accompanied by just as much sharp sting as it should be.

Edwin doesn’t say anything about Charles believing Edwin might be tricking him, because Charles isn’t wrong to, because he had, before. And if Charles doesn’t trust him anymore, that’s his right.

Charles sighs, looking down at his hand, then looks up at Edwin. “If you ever break my trust like that again, I’ll - “ he breaks off and looks back down. He sighs again.

“I won’t do anything. I’ll forgive you, because I’ll always forgive you, Edwin. But - please, please, please never do anything like that again, I can’t take it.”

Charles is crying, and his throat hurts.

Edwin’s voice is hoarse too, as he promises, never, never again.

And Edwin’s far too far away, Charles thinks. He has been for the last month. For longer, pulling far away during fights and after them - but it’s best not to think about that. With his mind resolutely on the present, Charles steps over the space between them and pulls Edwin into his arms.

“Let’s play some Cluedo, yeah?”

[reocidal]

stardust — r. itoshi

PAIRING: rin itoshi x fem!reader

CONTENT: actor au, fake dating, hurt/comfort, swearing, depressive spiral, might be ooc!!

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

NOTE: @choccorin i love u, enjoy!

it starts off pretty harmless, this agreement. you've known rin for a while now, the longest out of anyone he's in contact with in the industry these days, so it's obvious that he'll come to you when he needs help. in this case, the problem here is his fans.

rin itoshi shoots up to stardom out of the blue, all golden champagne and party streamers and hordes of screaming fangirls scattered (generously) around the globe. he's not a bad actor, not at all, but no one really expected him to be as popular as he is now.

not that he goes viral for his acting — not at first, at least. it's actually a low quality video posted onto twitter by a fan that does the trick; she doesn't expect her innocent six-second recording to break containment like this. but rin, with his pretty face and long lashes and perfectly fitted dark clothing, bathed in some gala's brilliant lighting, somehow manages to capture the hearts of a few million people that night. and when they find out that not only is he gorgeous, but he's also good at what he does? jackpot. the fame he's suddenly achieved is nothing if not terrifyingly overwhelming.

however, despite the massive growth of followers that he experiences overnight, you know that you'll always love him more. and that is precisely why you say yes to what he asks of you.

you remember that day embarrassingly well, down to the fine details, like how your phone's battery was at 37%, and how rin'd had a queer expression on his face, not really his usual deadpan look, but not really anything else either.

"date me," rin itoshi tells you.

"excuse me?" this isn't happening, right? you've been horrendously in love with him for a few years now; surely this isn't how things are going to go! but even then, you're not sure if fate is on your side or not, because he shakes his head and continues, and dashes all your hopes in an instant.

"i'm not in love with you or anything," he clarifies. "i just need a fake girlfriend so some of these crazy people leave me alone."

"ah," you manage to say. you should refuse, tell him to find someone else. you've read enough romance novels to know exactly how this plays out, and just how painful it'll be for you. not to mention the fact that he's literally just told you that he doesn't have any feelings for you, to your face. everything tells you to not do it, but when have you ever been able to say no to him? "sure."

his lips curve into the briefest of smiles as he hears your answer. "thank you. we'll discuss this later, okay?"

"sure," you repeat, ignoring the way your stomach does an unceremonious flip at his smile. he nods and gets up, and you watch him leave, leave you behind, just as he always has.

and so it begins.

the routine the two of you follow is easy to slip into; acting like you're in love with him isn't difficult either, especially when you are in love with him.

to his credit, rin treats you perfectly on his part. despite keeping you at arm's length off-camera, he treats you like a princess otherwise, apologising a few hundred times for the media outrage caused by the reveal of your "relationship". and while it does hurt to be so close, yet so far from the one thing you crave, the way you're getting to see a softer — although probably fake — side of rin, and how he's treating you almost makes up for it.

and inside, everything stays (almost) the same, perfectly platonic and unchanged.

and the fangirls (somewhat) die down out of respect for his new relationship, so that's good, too. keep winning, rin itoshi.

you're scrolling social media one day when you stumble upon a video that's slowly but surely gaining more and more traction. it's about you and rin — specifically, your relationship. the person speaking breaks down every (visible) aspect of it, and comes to the conclusion that the two of you must be gaking things. the thought of this assumption (although true) becoming more widespread terrifies you; the last thing you want happening is rin's career being damaged like this. he's barely in his twenties and there's still so much left for him to do. you can't let him lose just yet. so, with shaking fingers, you send the video to him. rin leaves you on seen, but the next time you're seen in public together he kisses you, and your relationship is viral again, and you question your friendship for the very first time.

another day, another rich-people party. it's the usual, really, for you and rin — even though neither of you are particularly fond of this setting — as the two of you linger in a somewhat secluded corner of the room. rin's hand rests lightly on your waist just in case anyone turns their attention to you, but his mind seems to be elsewhere as he stares into the crowd. a sudden flash of light catches your eye, and you whisper-yell at him urgently. "rin."

he doesn't react, eyes still blank and unfocused.

"rin!"

he blinks, realising that you're talking to him.

"yeah?" he leans down to hear you better, face dangerously close to yours.

"cameras," you hiss.

his brows raise ever so slightly in understanding. "okay. can i kiss you?"

"what?"

"for the cameras, obviously," he deadpans. "i saw the video; surely you sent it to me for a reason and not just for me to watch, right?"

"right."

rin's hand leaves your waist so he can cradle your face with both hands and angle your face up. there's a guarded look in his eyes, something you can tell he's hiding. you don't know what, though, and it's not like you get any time to even think when he finally, finally leans down to kiss you. every thought in your brain evaporates into stardust as he presses his lips to yours. in front of you, a camera shutter snaps, but you can't really find it in yourself to care when all you can think of, all you can feel is the press of his lips on yours.

it takes exactly twelve sleepless nights after this (you've kept count) and one (1) conversation with your best friend to realise that this whole fake dating thing is taking a — negative, obviously — toll on your mental health, even more so as the lines between platonic and romantic begin to blur.

you'd thought the relationship was just for show. so why does rin bring you flowers on a bad day, even when there's no media around to see? he treats you like his girlfriend at home too, now, and it confuses you. rin itoshi is not your boyfriend, so why are you always in his clothes? and what's with all the physical contact? not that you mind, of course.

he's just gotten too absorbed into this relationship, you tell yourself. he doesn't know what he's doing to you. but you don't speak up about it, either. you let it continue.

but regardless of whose fault this is, the uurt that grows within you stays raw and heavy. he just has to be the one thing you cannot have, and it really is impossible to not fall for his (unintentional) boyish charm and the quiet concern he displays — for you and you only.

it's a particularly rough day, even worse than usual — which is concerning, considering that almost every day in the past two weeks has been the exact same level of bad, when everything comes crashing down. it's been terrible from the morning and you haven't even gotten out of bed yet, even though it's almost three in the afternoon. you're drifting in and out of unconsciousness; everything around you and your thoughts and feelings are all coated in an uncomfortable haze.

a tentative knock on your door rouses you awake and you blink. why's there someone in your apartment? is this a break-in? who could it possibly— oh. rin.

your mind flashes back to a certain moment a few months ago, so fast it gives you whiplash. you're half-collapsed onto a bar stool by your kitchen counter, rin kneeling in front of you as he examines your bruised ankle.

"you should really be more careful," he murmurs, and your heart aches at the tenderness in his tone as he gently presses the icepack against the bruise.

cold seeps through your ankle as he holds it there, and eventually you wince; he must've gotten distracted and forgotten to pull away.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he whispers, uncharacteristically nervous and breathless. the apology forces itself out of his mouth, words tumbling over each other in their haste. "did i hurt you?"

you shake your head, and although he sighs disbelievingly, he does not argue.

"how do i return your key?" he asks you as he's about to leave. you're a bundle of blankets on your sofa, unable to move, so he's locking your door for you. your best friend's coming to take care of you soon — she also has a key to the apartment, so you'll be fine. besides, it's an extra one, anyways.

so you take a deep breath and hope you won't regret it when you wave him away with a laugh and tell him to keep it. he nods, although expressionless, and says a simple, flat bye before he leaves. you wonder if you're delusional or if the tips of his ears really did turn red when you told him to take the key with him.

your best friend is halfway across the world right now; it's obvious that it's rin who's standing outside your bedroom door.

another knock. rin clears his throat, like he's about to speak; you narrowly beat him to it. "don't come in, i-i'm okay!"

"oh."

you cough a little as you speak, wincing at the dryness of your throat and how rough your voice sounds.

"you don't sound okay," he adds a moment later, painfully stiff. "you weren't answering your calls or anything so i got— i mean, i came to check up on you."

"i see," you respond quickly. why is it so awkward today?

rin clears his throat again. "are you sure you're okay?"

your throat tightens; you do not respond — you cannot respond. rin reads your silence perfectly, almost too well. he does not speak again, but you hear a single step (forward?) outside your door. and the doorknob twists, and the door creaks open.

you are buried in an unkempt mess of bedsheets and blankets. when rin finally sees you, his eyes widen.

you burst into tears.

rin has never been good at comforting people. today, he doesn't even know what's wrong. unsure of what to do, he just stares at you owlishly for a moment before taking a hesitant step in your direction. when you don't stop him, he moves closer. and when you nestle into his side as he wraps his arm around you, he deduces that he must be doing something right.

the warmth of his presence is unfairly comforting; you cannot help but lean into him, breathing slowly becoming calmer as his thumb rubs circles into your shoulder.

eventually you stop crying, though not without the embarrassment of having a whole entire mental breakdown in front of your beloved rin itoshi, about said beloved rin itoshi.

rin lets the silence stew for a second or two; you feel him swallow from where your head is now tucked in the crook of his neck.

"what was that all about?" he pulls back slightly, loosening his hold on you as you stiffen at his question.

oh. well, now or never, right?

"rin," you begin. "i don't think i can do this fake dating thing anymore."

"oh. why not?"

he's quiet, but there's no particular inflection or change in his tone.

you shrug. "it's not working for me anymore, i guess. too busy these days."

he opens his mouth to speak, then exhales slowly instead. "okay."

"cool."

"okay," he repeats. "then we'll end the agreement tonight."

"why tonight?" confusion colours your tone as you finally look up at him. when his teal eyes meet yours again, his lips twitch into a small smile.

rin works careful and methodical, starting the cleanup from one end of your room. technically he's still your (fake) partner, and you've done so much in the public eye — the amount of pictures of you and rin scattered across the internet borders on obscene — so surely you can let him do one little thing in private, right?

"let me do this for you, yeah? you've done so much for me these past few months, let me pay you back."

it's mortifying, but you let him fix up your room anyways. and when he leads you to your bathroom, you follow along obediently, watching as he fixes the water temperature and leaves you to clean yourself up while he prepares something for you to eat.

the hot water washes away a surprisingly large amount of the discomfort you've been feeling as of late, and it's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders by the time you see rin again.

long-limbed 6'1" rin itoshi, dressed fully in shades of black and blue, rin looks incredibly awkward and out of place in your kitchen. it's a quaint little place, decked out in pink and brown hues, but a total contrast to him. it makes you let out a little huff of laughter, and you swear rin smiles when he hears it.

there's a plate of your favourite food placed in front of you; rin sits downon the chair opposite you.

"eat. there's something i want to talk to you about."

anxiety pools in your stomach — there's no way he knows, right? you should've never done this; you're no better than all those fangirls he'd been trying to get away from in the first place. and if he knows this, he— wait, is this his way of saying goodbye? it makes sense now — anyone would feel the same after a betrayal of trust like this.

he lets you finish eating before—

"i lied. to you. i'm sorry."

what?

he refuses to meet your eyes, gaze fixed on the table of front of him. the tips of his ears are very, very red.

"about what?" you manage to ask. this is not how you'd expected this to go.

"i, um." he's half-hiding his face with a hand; what you can see nonetheless is flushed, like he's running a fever. except he's not ill, just shy. really, what's happening? "i didn't need— fuck, i shouldn't have listened to shidou, i knew it was stupid!"

"rin?"

"ugh. i just— iaskedshidouforadviceandhesaidthebestwaytoknowifyoulikemebackisthisandi'msorryididn'tmeanforyoutogethurt—"

"wait, like you back? as in you like me?"

"oh." well, now that he's said that out loud now, what's next? he can't exactly take it back, can he? but to his surprise, you look pleased. like you wanted this. "um. yes."

"oh! rin, don't apologise!" you exclaim, much to his chagrin. (are you patronising him right now?) "i also have some explaining to do."

he cocks his head in confusion; you can see the question marks hovering above his head.

"you didn't exactly hurt me by fake dating me or whatever; i was sad 'cause you were sending me a bunch of mixed signals, y'know."

"huh? i was?"

"yeah? you said you weren't into me, but then you did all sorts of stuff that implied that you did like me."

"that's cause i do like you though."

you choke.

he seems to have regained composure again as he raises a brow at you. "you don't like me, though?"

"i do!" you squeak. "i've liked you this whole time— wait, you said it was shidou who told you to do this?"

"mhm, why?"

"he knows i like you, though!"

rin grits his teeth, pushing his chair back as he gets up. "no way, that fucking bastard… i'm going to go kill him right now."

"wait, rin."

he pauses. "what?"

"can you kiss me again, but for real this time?"

his eyes widen, just a little. "oh. okay. yeah."

when rin gets to your side of the table, he just stands there, staring down at you with unbridled adoration in his eyes, all the feelings that he no longer needs to hide. you recognise it now — it's that same look from the night he'd first kissed you. all of this almost overwhelms you, and in the end the only thing you can really muster up is a simple "hi."

rin smiles, fingers gently tilting your chin up. "hey."

and when he bends down to kiss you, it's even better than the last time. because this time it's real.

800 follower event.

© reocidal 2025.

[scho17]

Oh that's lovely. The dichotomy of 'my son is dead' and also 'he's right here, he's in my hands and he weighs nothing, he’s cold.' AGHHH Jason who's still in his Robin suit. Throwing up everywhere God I'm so not good. 

JLA, at some point probably: Where’s the other Robin (Jason)?

Robin (Tim): With Uncle Danny.

JLA: Batman has a brother???

Maybe they think its like the bat equivalent of saying that the dog went to the farm the more time goes on. (Read: Where’s Robin (Steph)? Oh, she’s with Uncle Danny!)(granted shes not actually dead but ykwim)

Give me Jason who’s having the time of his unlife in the Ghost Zone. Danny who is very much the cool uncle because he lets Jason do just about anything A, because Jason can’t exactly get hurt anymore, and B, “I thought you’d be taller” fuck you very much Bruce, Danny did get taller. Thank you, Fenton genetics.

Anyways, I’m all about Jason becoming a prince in the Infinite Realms. OHHH Jason doing Knight training with Fright Knight! Jason has as much fun as a murdered fifteen year old can have post-death with his much more emotionally competent side of the family as his support system (everyone say thank you Jazz).

I imagine Dick after his bad spats with Bruce summons Danny (casually because yeah, go on and mundanely call up the king of the infinite realms - somewhere else in the world John Constantine 100% feels stressed out for no particular reason) and is like “how did you put up with him? He must have been such a shitty little brother.” (They haven’t told the kids that, no, they are not in fact blood related. The black hair, blue eyes, built like a brick shit house look post-untransformation really sells it.)

Giggling cause after Danny and Bruce sort out the whole ‘this one just showed up on my door step I swear I didn’t just go and get a new kid on purpose’ thing Danny is one hundred and ten percent seeing Wes in Tim. Like oh yes there’s the conspiracy board mhm mhm.

And then Jason just up and disappears from the Ghost Zone and Danny is stressing the fuck out. How do you tell someone you lost their son? And that, yes, you did lose him for a second time I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he was right there in front of me and then he wasn’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Bruce having a whole break down x2 because Jason is gone again. Not even the king of the infinite realms could do anything so really what chance did anyone else ever have? Did he pass on? Did he fade out? 

And then in comes Red Hood. 

An eight year old Bruce Wayne summons Danny (who is 14 at the time, mind you) in the Wayne family manors attic.

Danny: please don't be a cultist please don't be a cultist please don't be a-

Danny:

Danny: That's a child. Why is there a child?

Bruce who honestly didn't expect his great great great great nth grandparents weird ass spellbook bullshit to work: [squinting at Danny in scrutiny] I thought the King of the Dead would be…taller.

Danny: Oh great and now I'm being insulted by a six year old. It's like Young Blood all over again, just more posh. And alive.

[maiamore]

MILE HIGH CLUB

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 3.3k

Summary: Joel has to fly out of state for the first time in his life and his nerves are frayed. Luckily, he finds a good distraction. You.

Tags: m!receiving oral, deep throating, public indecency, mention of drug use, blowjob on a plane basically, alcohol consumption, nervous old man joel 

A/N: maybe i’m just into exhibitionism atp  MASTERLIST

Like every other man, Joel Miller had his kryptonite. 

It wasn’t the idea of never finding someone to settle with, despite countless attempts—he had his fair share of awkward dates and mind-fucking-numbingly repetitive conversations about what his favourite colour was. 

And sure, it could have been having to deal with empty nest syndrome after Sarah moved out of state for college. The loneliness came as a cold wash, but he kept busy enough to avoid spiraling down the rabbit hole of a quiet home. Babysitting for Tommy or tending to work troubles was a rickety solution at best. 

But no, that wasn’t enough to rattle the man. 

It was the very fact that he was hours away from having to sit in a “flying death machine” as he eloquently phrased it, just so he could visit his daughter. 

Joel had successfully gone forty one years of his life dodging air travel. The thought of sitting in a metal contraption, being flung through the skies made him stomach churn. He couldn’t care less about how safe it chalked up to be. A car? He could control. Walking? Reliable. 

A plane? Definitely not. A paper airplane for grown-ups, that’s all it was. 

The glaring fluorescent lights, nauseating sound of suitcases and tearful goodbyes wasn’t doing him any favours. Least of all the sleaze bag at the counter, who hadn’t even spared more than a couple seconds. Being seven hours early was overkill, but he’d figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Can’t let ya in yet. Come back in a few hours.”

A litany of curses left unsaid under his breath about “dumb rules” and “what’s the point of gettin’ here early if yer just gonna make me wait?” 

He shuffles out of the line with the creaky luggage he had with him, finding himself a seat by the waiting lounge next to a girl reading from those gizmos he’d seen Sarah use last Thanksgiving. A scowl crept up his face.

Did they have to invent some gadget for reading, too? Wasn’t that free?

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small black leather bound book. It was worn, the edges were scuffed and the pages slightly dog-eared—a testament to its’ use.

Licking the pad of his thumb, he flips through the pages. There in black ink, lay a list of instructions he prepared prior to coming here. Misspellings here and there—chicken scratch, really. 

1) checkin n’ give bags to airport 

“Already screwed that one up,” he mutters out loud, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the growing aches. 

2) go to gate no. on tikket

Joel peels out the airline pass tucked into his passport and squints at the printed words. “Christ.” He clicks his pen and painstakingly copies the details into his notebook in block letters big enough to read from across the room. “Tiny ass fuckin’...printin’...”

“Don’t travel much?”

Your voice breaks through the haze of uncertainty that had been plaguing him. Joel doesn’t offer more than a quick glance at first, his grip tightening slightly around the pen in his hand.

When he does look at you. You’d made him do a double take. 

Despite the sorry state of his dating life–or maybe because of it–Joel wasn’t immune to the kind of attention a pretty thing like you could command. Even if it was just your attempt to be polite. His gaze then falls in disdain to your kindle laying abandoned in your lap.

“Not really, darlin’,” he says, his voice low and rough, with just enough warmth to take the edge off his typical gruffness.

Joel wasn’t big on small-talk, so when silence settled between you both, he didn’t feel the need to fill it. He wasn’t entirely sure why your presence had eased his nerves, even just a fraction, but it had.

And then you spoke up again, your tone uncertain but laced with quiet hope.

“There’s a lounge in the back with a bar,” you begin, tipping your head towards it. “Might be more your speed.”

Joel follows the motion with his eyes, then huffs a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “Man after my own heart,” he tucks his notebook back into his pocket.

Maybe it wasn’t all too bad that your dad dropped you off at the airport hours too early.

When you’d first seen Joel, you’d nearly dropped your kindle. The heavy thud of his boots on the polished floor caught your attention. You slowly pulled your gaze upward–from the worn blue jeans to the faded grey t-shirt that did nothing to hide his strong forearms. His dark brown curls looked like they’d been through more than their fair share of rough mornings, but god did you want to run your fingers through them.

And then there was his scruffy beard–uneven in an endearing way that somehow made him even more pleasing to the eyes. You blinked, forcing yourself to look back at your screen, but the words blurred into nothingness. The way he sat stiffly on the chairs he made seem so small, down to what seemed to be a checklist for his flight.

“I’m pretty sure more people have died on construction sites than flights, Joel.” 

Joel. 

Introductions came easy the second the whiskey infiltrated his system, and damn if he didn’t he love the way his name rolled off your tongue. 

He drags a palm down his jaw, a dry scoff slipping past his lips. “This your idea of makin’ me feel better ’bout all this?” he counters, half-regretting that he’d let slip what he did for a living. 

You weren’t wrong, of course–he’d faced far more dangerous situations on the ground than he’d ever likely encounter in the air.

Still, it didn’t help.

“I ain’t sayin’ m’gonna piss my goddamn pants,” he muttered, shifting in his seat. “Just makes me feel queasy, s’all.”

Joel sighs into the crystal glass, thumb idly tracing the rim as if the whiskey might’ve given him some courage. When he glanced your way again, you were watching him with that look–the one that made him feel exposed and oddly at ease all at once.

He shot you a faint glare, more bark than bite, and nodded toward your drink.

“Drink your goddamn kiddy juice,” he grumbled.

Your lips curled up into a slight scowl, cupping your glass of bellini defensively. Despite your show of annoyance, you did feel a tinge of empathy for him. For crying out loud, he was hunched over the goddamn bar seat, looking at his empty glass like a kicked puppy like he was about to go for a vasectomy or something.

Gesturing towards the bartender for a refill of his glass, you dragged your bar stool closer to him.

“Look. If you’re up for it. I’ve got a little pick-me-up I take to settle my nerves before a long flight,” you said, fishing a small pill container from your bag. “Works like a charm.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed, his interest piqued despite his better judgement. But the second you popped open the lid, his reaction was instant.

“Hard pass.”

“You don’t even know what it–”

“I ain’t about to get drugged up,” he cut in, folding his arms. Your eyes shamelessly trace over the way the sleeves tightened around his biceps. “And besides, I hardly know ya.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line and without missing a beat, you tipped one of the white pills into your palm and dry swallowed it like a pro. Joel’s brow furrowed deeper, his disapproval practically radiating off him. Though that notion had him adjust his jeans discreetly.

“Well, it’s your funeral,” you said with a shrug. Then realizing how that might’ve come across, you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Figuratively speaking! Not literally–”

“Gimmie that damn thing,” Joel huffed, snatching the container from you. He popped the pill into his mouth and chased it with a gulp of whiskey, muttering something under his breath about regrettin’ this already.

You leaned back in your seat, a sly grin tugging at your lips. “You didn’t even ask what it does.”

Joel fixed you with a hard glare, the kind that could silence most people. But you weren’t most people.

“It also gives you a raging erecti–”

“Sweetheart.” Joel’s warning tone cut you off, his glare piercing.

You couldn’t help it–you laughed anyway, the sound earning a reluctant lop-sided smirk from him as he shook his head.

In all his years of living, Joel never thought he’d succumb to relying on drugs.

The idea was irresponsible at best. He’d pride himself on staying clear-headed, the occasional joint in his teenage years being the closest he’d come to experimentation. But that was a lifetime ago, a glimpse of a boy who didn’t have responsibilities or a family to think about. His body was a temple now, for at least a semi-respectable contractor.

Yet here he was, in the fluorescent purgatory of a transit hall, deciding that a four hour stint in a “metal coffin” justified drastic measures.

Your vague explanation on what that little white pill of yours was didn’t help either. You both agreed you were in this together now. He had to admit that it was ironic where life took him. Misery loved company, and you, his current “drug buddy,” were far easier on the eyes than his high school crowd had ever been.

And, well, it worked.

Joel could feel the change, his mind easing from the coiled tension it had been gripping since he set foot in the airport. His inhibitions, usually locked tighter than the pentagon, were suddenly looser. Not reckless, but freer.

If you’d thought Joel wasn’t the clingy type before, that illusion was thoroughly shattered now. He shadowed your every move, from hauling your luggage onto the conveyor belt without you even asking to tapping his card at the terminal before you could pay for yourself.

And then…there were his hands.

At first, they lingered tentatively–a brush of his palm at the small of your back, a quick touch to your arm as he gestured to something in the duty-free window. Testing boundaries. Waiting for a sign.

When you looped your arm through his without hesitation, Joel took it as his green light.

After that point on, his touches became a constant presence. Steady, warm & grounding. A hand resting lightly on your hip as you wandered through the departure hall, fingers curling against your wrist as he guided you through the crowds of travellers.

Joel fully blamed the pill for his current lapse of judgment. 

He spit into his palms, smearing the wetness onto the length of his cock. His other hand gripped firmly onto the granite counter. The dull slaps of him fucking his fist filled the small space. Along with his strained grunts. 

“C’mon, c’mon…”

Trying damned hard to focus—he thinks of you. How your body felt under the weight of his hands. The way you’d wet your lips before giving your own witty remark to his rants about shit he found ridiculous about Delta. 

And he jolts, instinctively tightening his grip around his cock when the announcement rings in the speaker above—some bullshit safety reminder. 

“Shit—…shit shit.” He mutters. Willing himself to come so he’d put himself out of his self made torture. 

Joel was rock fucking hard the second he seated himself by the back of the plane. Thoughts of the way you’d smiled up at him & rubbing his arm before heading to your seat up front was enough ammo for him to daydream about you for the next hour. 

He did think you were joking earlier. But this could very well be the side effect of whatever you’d given him. 

Nevertheless, it was pointless. The sterile bathroom was doing nothing but turning him off. 

With an annoyed sigh. He’d shucked his half limp cock back into his jeans. Thoroughly scrubbing his hands clean before he heads back to his seat.

He stops short, brows quirked at the intruder. 

“Howdy. How ya holding up.”

You grinned. Lowering the latest issue of Baseball Digest that Joel was occupied with from where it covered your face. 

“I’m—…what are you…doin’ back here.” He manages. Cursing himself for sounding way off. 

“Flight‘s pretty empty, so…Donna did me a solid.” 

Joel briefly glances up at the flight attendant that you did a little finger wave to before looking back, nudging his head to the vacant seat next to you. “Scoot over.” 

“Jesus. Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Yeah. I was. And I tried to jerk off to you too, not that it worked out. 

“So that I can be tormented for the next three hours?”

You frowned at his words. Flipping through the magazine loudly. “Someone’s panties are in a bunch.”

He exhales as he sinks into his rightful seat. Thankfully, the shock of seeing your face again did a number to deflate Junior Miller. 

The combination of turbulence and drinking two glasses of whiskey earlier was a nasty concoction. He thumbs eases the crease between his brows before finally deciding to speak, ignoring your earlier  comment. 

“Bout’ the side effect you mentioned…”

That causes you to tip your head towards him. You were silent, briefly. 

“What about it?”

“…How long does it…last.”

You looked to the side. “Just for a bit.” Though you sounded unsure of yourself. “Why?”

“Nothin’. Suppose I’m gettin’ one of those weird reactions to it.”

“Weird how.” You pressed. Though Joel looked less than pleased about your probing. “Don’t gotta explain it to ya. S’just weird, darlin’.” 

You get the memo regardless. 

“Well did you try to—“

“I did.”

“And you didn’t—“

“No.”

“You sure you were doing it correctly?”

Joel drags his hand down his face, letting out a muffled, yet pained scoff before he looks at you. He doesn’t speak yet for a couple of seconds. 

“Yes, sweetheart. I know how to fuckin’ jerk off.”

Your lips pressed into a taut line. His words stirred something deep in you, fuck if it didn’t make you want to do something stupid right now. 

“Obviously you don’t. Wouldn’t be sitting here all wound up if you had.”

Joel’s lips part to shoot something snarky your way. 

It’s quickly floored when he feels your fingertips trace past the sides of his thighs. 

You look at him. Offering him an opportunity to pull away. 

He adjusts his hips to shift lower. A firm tug on your wrist ground your palm directly onto the bulge of his jeans. 

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when you knead against his hard on. Tipping his head back onto the headrest. He lets out a soft grunt escaping his lips as you continued your ministrations. 

“Feels…real good.” He manages. Barely being able to look at you. 

Fuck. You were so warm and you smelled so good. He couldn’t remember the last time he had something that he wanted real bad.

“Told ya, not doing it right.” You leaned in close enough for your cheeks to rest against his bicep. Watching how his grip around your wrists began to falter. 

Joel’s breathing became a little more ragged as he started to become more and more pent up with each rub.

With a conspicuous sniffle, you dragged the zipper of his jeans down, earning a jolt from him. He whips his head to look at you as you maneuver his stiffened cock out of his boxers. 

Locking your gaze with his, you provide a calming kiss to the edge of his shoulder before you lower yourself. 

“Christ. Are you crazy?”

Joel lifts his gaze to scan the surroundings. Considering it was an evening flight, the dimmed overhead lighting provided a more intimate and gentle glow. 

The absence of attendants who were likely resting up front, and the emptiness of the last five rows does provide him assurance, even when it shouldn’t have. 

He lets out a hiss at a wet glob of saliva trickle down his shaft, stealing his focus once more. Followed by the softness of a smaller pair of hands pumping the wetness up and down. 

You feel a strong hand gather your hair up loosely, before the fingertips entangles firmly through to hold your head in place. 

He tugs you to meet his gaze momentarily. Eyeing your soft features being reflected with the amber mood lighting. 

“Can I?” 

You bit the insides of your cheeks. Realising what he’d meant. You nod slowly, kissing the tip of his weeping cock. 

“Tap me twice if it’s t’much.”

He mutters with a gentleness that had you rubbing your thighs together, the slick wetness growing in your cunt. 

You take him into his mouth fully this time. Feeling his hips jump up involuntarily. The tug on your head encourages you to continue. 

“Ah..fuck. Fuck.”

Joel grinds his jaw at a painful intensity. The warmth and wetness of your mouth hollowing around his cockhead was intoxicating. He had to physically control himself from thrusting into your mouth too quickly. 

The noises that rumbled from his throat spurs you on. You alternate between deep sucks through your hollowed mouth and stroking his cock. Though the hand holding your head became more of a weak hold than a guide.

You caught the hesitance in his actions. Treating you so damn gently as though you would break. It frustrated you, so you abruptly lowered yourself until you practically swallowed him whole. Nose grinding against the denim. 

It catches the both of you off guard. 

Joel, nearly lets out a fucking groan at the warmth of your throat convulse around his cock. And you, with your thumb digging into your fists to control your gag reflex. 

That was enough for Joel to snap. 

His grip around your hair goes taut. “Tap me.” He reminds, before he properly fucks his cock into your throat at an almost brutal pace. 

You choked for a couple of seconds, the warm tears pricking your eyes as you gripped tightly over his thigh—essentially using your mouth as his personal fleshlight. 

Letting out strained grunts as he quickened his pace, you taste the salty mixture of your tears and saliva. Joel doesn’t let himself go just yet, keeping the rational part of him awake in case you couldn’t take it, which in fairness—most women couldn’t. 

But you? You took it like a fuckin’ champ. 

You pulled away from his cock with a pop, letting a string of saliva follow as you dragged your lips down to his balls, giving one of them a sloppy suck as much as your mouth could fit before taking his cock into your throat. 

Joel shudders at the sensation, It doesn’t take long before his hips stutter, spurting his hot, thick come into your throat. 

He pulls you off him with a gentle tug, catching sight of your tear stricken face, lips pouty and reddened. 

Joel groans at how pretty you looked like this. 

He glances towards the bathroom behind them and back at the serenity of the moonlight illuminating inside the plane as he hastily tucks himself back in. 

With a firm hold, he hoists you up underneath your arms to guide you into the cramped stall with him. 

“You okay, honey?” He practically whispers. Thumb swiping the strands of your hair that stuck to your sweaty cheeks, tucking them behind your ears. 

“Y…eah.” You managed. Voice coming out raspy. His dark brown gaze held nothing but concern for you. 

A lazy smile graces your features. You stabilise yourself with Joel’s arms. He doesn’t hesitate as he leans in to lock his lips with yours. 

“We can go back. Or continue. Whatever you want.” The gentle curve of nose comes to rub against your cheeks, though you could tell by the twitch of his cock that he was far from done. 

You bit down on your lips. Hands travelling lower to let the sharp sound of Joel’s buckle give you the answer he needed. 

As you flip over to lean against the counter with your palms flat on the granite—your cheeks presses against your shoulder to gaze up at him through your lashes. 

“By the way…that pill I gave you? Just Vitamin C.”

[mrsbarnesblog]

one step at a time

masterlist

summary: after being rejected by you, the person who managed to catch Rafe's attention in a way no one else ever had, he goes spiraling into his addiction even more. you happened to be the only one who was able to pull him out of the turmoil in which he had buried himself in the last years.

words count: 6.5k

warnings: drug addiction, withdrawls, mutual pinning, angsty with happy ending

a/n: i've been writing and rewriting it since august and i still don't know whether i like the final result or not, so i'm ready for your feedback. aaaand happy new year to all of you, my precious followers. hope this one will bring you only the best💘

You felt your skin getting hotter under the intense gaze of a particular guy who had been starring at you whenever you two were in the same room. The one who was present in your head all the time, no matter how hard you tried to get distracted and convince yourself that it was not the person that you needed in your life.

Rafe Cameron.

He was in a circle of his so-called friends, mostly not paying attention to them and instead watching you. You didn’t know when it started to happen—when the looks that you gave to each other started to get longer and more frequent, when your eyes started to search around the rooms until they found what they wanted, when the small talks that you had during official Kook’s events became so awkward and nervous.

Your fathers worked together for a few years, so you weren’t friends, more like acquaintances who occasionally attended the same galas and parties, where you usually ended up in the same circle of people. And who, well, might have developed a secret crush on each other. 

The thing is, you didn’t know why you felt that way. Rafe was certainly not the nicest person on the island, yet you didn’t have a real reason to hate him either. He was a menace; he was spoiled and thrived on attention from others. But Rafe was undeniably hot, so damn attractive without even trying, and you just wanted him. Your whole body was gravitating towards him, no matter how you tried to get this bullshit out of your head. 

Still, you knew for a fact that no matter how much even his presence in the room affected you, seeing him do countless and countless lines at every party pushed you away from him more than anything else ever could. You were not the one to ever judge people for their addictions, but seeing many times what drugs did to people, you didn’t want to deal with it at all. Remembering the first time you noticed it, the first time Sarah cried because of how her brother became so reckless and that she was scared for him, a shiever ran down your spine. 

You excused yourself and left from inside the house when the air became to thick with the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat from people all around you and when your thoughts started to wander in the familiar direction. You found a semi-quiet space at the balcony on the second floor, but it didn’t take too long until someone else went there, as you heard footsteps approaching you. 

“What are you doing here alone?” You instantly turned around at the sound of Rafe’s smooth voice, only to catch him looking at you up and down with a gleam in his eyes. You heart raced, almost breaking out of your ribcage, while you tried to visibly not freak out.

“Nothing, just needed some fresh air.” You shrugged. “And why are you here?” 

“Honestly?” He chuckled, seemingly feeling nervous, as his right hand started rubbing the back of his neck. “I followed you.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, kinda wanted to talk to you alone for a long time.” He stepped closer, mostly looking at the floor and licking his lips. You didn’t know whether it was the chill air or the fact that Rafe’s presence had a weird influence on you, but you shivered. “You’re so pretty tonight, y’know? I mean, always. Thought I could ask you to hang out sometime. Like without shit tons of people around us?”

Your eyes followed the movements of his slightly trembling hands and the realization that he was high again made your heart sink. It were drugs speaking, you were sure that he wouldn’t have done it with a sober mind, so you just pursed your lips at the bitter feeling in your chest. 

Rafe was almost jittery, either from finally asking you out or the powder that was currently flooding his system — he didn’t even know that himself. He wanted to ask you out for ages, always thinking about the way you pulled his attention like a magnet, the way he craved you more with every passing day, but it seemed like there was never a good moment for that. 

“Rafe…” You breathed out his name, your eyes finally finding his. Pupils dilated, almost covering the pretty blue color, and the look so distant, weird, as if he wasn’t even fully there. “I can’t. This is wrong. I don’t want to do it like that.” 

“You-you’re looking at me. I know I’m not fucking crazy. You look at me the same way I look at you, don’t bullshit me, Y/N.” His eyes narrowed, his throat suddenly dry from the nerves and a hurting feeling of rejection. He stepped closer, which seemed like a way to intimidate you, but you weren't afraid of him, not even in this state of mind. 

“I’m not… denying it, okay? I like you, for some reason.” Your cheeks heated, and you started fidgeting with your fingers, but still looking up at him with seriousness and concern. “But I hate your lifestyle, Rafe. Say whatever you want, but this is not normal. You’re high even right now—I see it in your eyes. Will you even remember this party, me, our conversation the next morning?”

Was it anger that was bubbling inside of him right now? Or maybe agitation? Whatever it was, it hurt him deeply, more than he could admit. For the first time ever, Rafe actually, genuinely, became interested in someone, not with the intention of a meaningless hook up, but just because something was pulling him towards you. And, of course, he had to fuck everything up again with his dumb ass desicions. 

Who was he kidding, thinking that you wouldn’t care about the coke? You were possibly the sweetest person on the island, despite being a kook, and he had never even heard any rumors about you doing anything illegal. You were just the definition of a rich girl who enjoyed her perfect life on an island, hanging out with your friends, doing your hobbies, and never getting into trouble. 

Rafe just wanted to hit his head against the wall from the amount of mixed feelings and thoughts that his poor overstimulated mind was experiencing right now. 

“Rafe, please listen and understand what I say. I’m not rejecting you. I’m just saying that I can’t commit to anything if you’re not even fully there. If the situation was different, I would’ve happily accepted it.” His attention was focused on the floor, but from the way his jaw was clenching while you were talking, you knew that he was listening. “These people are not your friends, because they let you do that and they do not care. You should stop destroying your mind and your body with drugs while you can.” 

You tried to reach out to touch him, but he flinched. 

“Yeah, I–I get it. See ya later.” He mumbled under his breath, not even looking at you.

“Rafe, wait! Rafe!” You tried to call out, but he was already gone, mixing in the croud of people in the main room.

You pushed on the button on the doorbell for the third time, but it seemed like Cameron’s house was silent. Rafe’s truck was on the driveway, as was his red bike, so you knew that he must be home. 

After that talk with Rafe almost three weeks ago, you only heard about him and caught a few glimpses with his friends at Figure 8. People talked that he had gone even crazier than usual and that Shoupe arrested him twice. You were worried that it might be your fault, but just when you decided to catch Rafe the next time you see him, he vanished for the whole day. 

You had to call Sarah to ask what was wrong with her brother, making up a stupid excuse for your sudden interest, and the only thing that she told you was him not getting out of his room and acting weird.

Maybe it was a bad idea to come here uninvited when clearly no one else besides Rafe was home, or because you weren’t even that close, but it was too late to go back when you opened the front door and slowly went up the stairs to his room. 

You were in the house a few times already, when your families had their usual gatherings together, so you pretty much knew where you had to look for Rafe. You stopped in front of his door, unsure of your actions, but before you could run away like a child, your hand had already knocked on the door.

The soft groans and mumbling were heard inside, as well as the sound of the bedsheets and something falling on the floor. Your first thought about him having someone over there made your heart drop for a second, but another groan, almost painful, filled you with concern.  

“Get—get the fuck away, Sarah. T-told you a million fu-ucking times.” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, and it seemed like he was trembling with the way it shaked. You heard cussing and more groans. He did not sound like himself with those strange pauses and unusual sounds, which made the level of your worry skyrocket. What if he was doing coke in there, or maybe something stronger? His ego must’ve gotten hurt because of your rejection, and now he was putting that shit up his nose again. 

“It’s not Sarah, Rafe. Open, please.” You rested your head on the door, listening to the complete silence after your words. He was thinking—you knew that. He was trying to figure something out, and the fact that you didn’t know what was exactly happening frightened you. "Fuck, are you doing it again? I won’t go until you open the door. Rafe, this is not funny!” 

You didn’t expect to see what was in front of you. As soon as the door opened, another version of Rafe was looking at you. He was barely standing straight, gripping the side of the door for dear life, shaking like a leaf and sweating. His face was pale, with almost white lips and bloodshot, exhausted eyes. 

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, but stepped closer to take a hold of his face. He took something worse than cocaine. He’s high again. It’s bad. Your mind immediately went to a dark place, already feeling tears at the brim of your eyes. 

That’s when Rafe’s eyes met yours, and you froze in place. 

“You are clean.” You said, not asked, breathlessly. Tired, red, and slightly watery, but still clear, eyes looked right at you with a mixture of shame and relief. He licked his lips a few times, probably dehydrated, trying to stay focused on you despite feeling too sick to stand up straight. “Oh my god, Rafe, I thought—What's happening?” 

When he didn’t respond to you, with a new wave of confidence, you pushed him back into the darkness of the room, closing the door behind you and looking around. It was a mess, but no empty bottles, white powder, or random credit cards were seen, and you sighed with relief. 

Rafe was barely holding himself up. His body was fighting against him, craving that poisonous relief again. He swayed on his legs, suddenly feeling way too hot again, even though his skin was covered in goosebumps. It started to become more than he could handle, but another reminder that you were, in fact, right in front of him came in the form of your hands holding his face. 

Your soft eyes were searching for something in him while he tried to focus on your face. He thought that maybe he started hallucinating because, why else would you be there? Rafe leaned forward as his face curled in pain. You hummed in response, taking some of his body weight on yourself. Your hands stayed on his face, while his own trembling ones fell on your waist for some kind of support. 

At first, he thought that he was mad at you. After you rejected him, when he finally found power in himself to talk to you at that party, he was furious. He came back to his friends, immediately pulling out a plastic bag from his pocket and emptying it on the table in front of him. He inhaled more than he needed, hurt and angry from what you said to him. It blocked his mind for some time as everything around got muffled and blurry. His heart was pounding, his breath shallow, but his mind spun faster than he could keep up with. Every word you’d said echoed in his head, sharper and more painful each time.

It went on like that for some time, and at one point Rafe couldn’t even figure out what day it was. Everything was just a blur of parties, his coke buddies, and countless lines on every surface possible. It was bad, and at the back of his mind he knew that he was spiraling somewhere he wouldn’t be able to get out of, but then again, he had no one to try for. Ward didn’t care as long as Rafe didn’t cause any problems; his sisters gave him stares that he thought were either pity or disgust, as you... you weren’t there to fully see it all, so he did everything to prove God knows what, knowing damn well that it was hurt.  

The coke gave him fleeting moments of numbness, but it never lasted. The hurt always came back, heavier and sharper, gnawing at him when the highs faded and the quiet of his thoughts became unbearable.

It all was adding up, until one time Sarah caught him blacked out on the couch besides the pool. He still didn’t know whether it was a game of his mind or it happened actually, but he remembered her faint silhouette, sitting in front of him. She sounded like she was crying, but he wasn’t sure—too high to actually understand. What he remembers were her words, that surprisingly his mind was able to comprehend even in that state. “I thought you were gonna get better. I thought Y/N would be the one to pull you out of this.” Her voice cracked, a mix of sadness and disappointment that cut through the fog in his brain. “But look at you, Rafe. You’re worse than ever.”

Rafe’s vision blurred, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the high or the emotion clawing its way to the surface. He tried to move, to sit up, but his body felt like lead. He hated how vulnerable he felt in that moment, laid out in front of his sister like a broken mess.

“He cares about you, you know. She told me a long time ago how much she liked you. I know you do too. And you could’ve had it all if only you were able to get out of your own way.” Sarah said, her voice soft but edged with frustration. “But instead, you’re here, killing yourself slowly over something that you could fix. Or maybe you’re just too scared to try.”

“I’m not scared.” He gritted his teeth, groaning at the baanging noises in his head.

“Then prove it. Fix your life, Rafe. Until it’s too late.” 

He didn't remember what happened after that, but then he woke up with a more clear head, still confused and disoriented. Sarah’s words were hanging at the back of his head.

What was he even trying to prove? To you? To himself? He’d spent so much time running from the pain, from the rejection, from the fear that he hadn’t realized he was running in circles, destroying everything in his path.

Rafe stood shakily, gripping the back of the couch for support. His reflection in the sliding glass door caught his eye, and he barely recognized the person staring back. Bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks, and a gauntness that hadn’t been there before. It was a version of himself he couldn’t stand to look at anymore.

He wasn’t sure where to start or if he even knew how to fix it, but he knew one thing: Sarah, once, was right. If he didn’t make a change now, it would be too late. Too late for you to ever see him as someone worth caring about again. Too late to prove to himself that he could be better.

Dragging a hand down his face, Rafe took a shaky breath. One step at a time, he thought, Sarah’s voice still echoing in his mind. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could do it. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but for the first time, he wanted to try.

“It burns. I feel like my body is on fuckin’ fire. It’s in my veins. I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” Rafe’s eyes flattered, and his breathing became heavier as another wave of heat washed over him. “I don’t wanna take coke again, but shit—-“

“You can, Rafe. I know you can. You’re doing so well. You have to fight it just a little longer.” You ran your thumbs over his cheeks and realized that he was way too hot. “You need to cool off a little. Can you take a cold shower? Can you do that by yourself?” You slightly patted his cheek until his eyes focused back on yours.

“You actually came?” His voice was hesitant, almost fragile, and a sad smile touched your lips.

“I did. I’ll help you, okay?”

“Mhm… Stay here? Please.” He almost begged, leaning into your touch and licking his dry lips again. With your touch still lingering on his face, Rafe stumbled into his private bathroom while you decided to prepare everything for him. 

After politely rummaging through the room, you found new bed sheets to replace the old ones. Then you quickly aired the room, brought a couple water bottles from the kitchen downstairs, and turned on only one light to not disturb Rafe and his sensitive mind right now. 

As you were cleaning up, you got lost in your thoughts about what had happened in the past few weeks. From Rafe asking you out, then seemingly going crazy because of your rejection, and now his attempt to quit drugs. Not that you didn’t believe in him, but he was so stubborn, and with the amount of problems constantly surrounding him, it wouldn’t be so surprising if he had just ignored you and continued living his own way. 

But you wanted him to get clean so badly because you hated the way coke was affecting him. You knew him for a pretty long time now, and you couldn’t miss the changes in his behavior after he started using. You wanted to see the real him, wanted to help him out, no matter how cliche it sounded. 

You hated that he was so careless about his own body and mind that he willingly put that shit up his nose again and again, thinking that it would change anything. You had feelings for Rafe, you did for a long time, no matter how many people openly said that he was a disaster and a big problem. One thing that you knew for sure was that if he really wanted to try, then you would support him. 

You heard the bathroom door creak open and turned to see Rafe leaning against the frame. He looked exhausted, his damp hair falling into his eyes, his skin pale but no longer feverish. He wore a fresh pair of sweatpants, the towel he had used slung loosely around his shoulders. His expression was a mix of vulnerability and shame, like he wasn’t sure he deserved the care you were giving him.

“Hey.” You said softly, walking over to him. “You feeling any better?”

He nodded faintly, his eyes meeting yours. “A little.” He admitted, though his voice was hoarse. “Thanks for… all this.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Rafe’s movements were a little slower than usual when he came closer to you, as if he craved your presence around him. “Just made you a fresh bed. I also brought some water because you’re probably dehydrated. You should try to fall asleep, and I’ll stay here if you want to.” You softly smiled, not missing the way his eyes were glued to your lips, as if he were trying to understand you better. 

“Yeah—shit, I mean okay.” Rafe started breathing heavily again, shaking his head to clear the fog and trying to stop his hands from shaking. 

In a few minutes, you managed to get you both into his bed, with you sitting against the headboard and Rafe’s head comfortably placed on the pillow on your lap. He was facing you, so you could see the way his eyes were flattering while he tried to control himself. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked quietly, mindlessly running your hands through his long hair.

“Didn’t think that you would care about it, ‘cause you clearly said no to me.” He shrugged, while one of his hands sneaked under the pillow on your legs and touched your thigh. It wasn’t sexual in any way, but it gave Rafe some kind of comfort.

“I care about you. You are my friend.”

“I don’t wanna be your friend, Y/N.” 

You shook your head at his stubbornness, sliding your fingers down the side of his face. “I know, but we are. At least for now.” Rafe scoffed, tightening the grip on your thigh and trembling as another wave of chills washed over his body. “Sh-h. Remember, I didn’t say ‘no’. I said that I can’t commit to anything if you’re not fully here. It would be unfair for both of us. So now you have to get better, and then we’ll work from there.” His tired eyes met yours as if he were trying to understand whether you were serious or not. “When was the last time you used anything?”

“Yesterday morning.” 

“Mhm, so it’s your second day already. That’s amazing, Ray.” 

Rafe just hummed in response, his mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry. You made him drink some water, trying to convince him that his body needed to get rid of the toxins, and one of the best ways to do it was by drinking a lot of fluids. He was surprisingly obedient, just going back to his previous position with one hand on your leg and facing you. 

You two settled into a comfortable silence, both too lost in your own heads and thoughts. 

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave your face. No matter how hard it was for him to focus, he studied your features that were perfectly illuminated by the small lamp. He looked at you countless times, always sneaking glances when no one would notice, but right now he thought that you looked the most beautiful. With a soft smile and eyes and slightly messy hair. 

Your hand that was brushing through his dump hair and then touching his face like a feather was almost too good to be true, making Rafe almost forget about the poisonous cravings and unusual reactions of his body. You, you, you—were the only thing on his mind. It was soothing and peaceful. It was calming the storm in his head, so Rafe didn’t want this moment to ever end. 

You mindlessly traced lines on Rafe’s face, just admiring the way he seemed to be calm and relaxed, as much as it was possible in his condition, and how it differentiated from the way he had always acted. Maybe it was stupid on your part to get closer with Rafe so easily, because, let’s face it, he could go back to his habits as soon as you stepped out of the house. Everyone around you constantly talked about him being the type of person who would never change to please somebody and who would never put his pride aside. 

But no matter how hard you tried, the boy in front of you, the one who looked at you with trust and unusual softness, made your heart beat faster. Your body and mind were screaming that you did the right thing and that he was worth saving, so you couldn’t just walk away and pretend to feel nothing. 

As you watched his eyes start to flutter with sleepiness, your own hands slowed down. With the wave of comfort that his company and the atmosphere of the room had brought you, you didn’t notice how you fell asleep. 

The next few days were rough for both of you, with Rafe trying to pull his shit together and not give up and with you trying to be as helpful as possible. He struggled a lot. You saw that pretty clearly, but what you also saw was how actually strong Rafe was and how determined he became to get through it. 

It was underestimating to say that your help and support meant everything to him. Your words of encouragement, your genuine kindness and willingness to help, your visits and time that you spend in his room—it all made it seem like the efforts were not worthless and that there was a reason to fight. 

After almost a week since the day you first fell asleep in Rafe’s bed, your relationship started progressing rapidly. You started actually getting to know each other, and countless text messages and phone calls were proof of that. 

He was feeling much better; the worst of the withdrawal symptoms had passed, and the fog in his mind started to lift. It wasn’t perfect, and there were moments where he felt overwhelmed by the weight of everything he had to face, but he was getting there. You could see it in the way he started to smile more often and how his voice had grown steadier on the phone; he became calmer and wasn’t always on the edge of snapping. 

Your attraction to Rafe grew rapidly whenever you saw the real version of him, the one that was soft and caring, brought up to the surface—the one that had been buried beneath layers of anger, frustration, and his addiction. The version of him that you knew had always been there but had been clouded for so long. It was these moments, the quiet ones when he was relaxed and open, when his vulnerability came through, that made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected.

Sitting on the porch at your house, you thought about Rafe and your time together, and your tummy fluttered with anticipation for what was yet to come. You saw that longing look in Rafe's eyes, and you weren’t one bit surprised because that night he clearly said that your friendship was not enough for him, but you hoped to move slowly. 

Even if your breath always hitched whenever he stepped closer or lowered himself to say something to you. 

Even if your heart skipped a bit whenever you saw a message with his name next to it. 

A notification from your phone brought you back to the present, and as soon as you saw Rafe’s text, you proved yourself right. Your heart skipped a beat again as a shy smile touched your lips. 

Café near the beach? My treat. I have something to show you

k, i’ll be there in fifteen

When you got out of the taxi, your eyes scanned the people sitting in the open area under the light of the setting sun, but you didn’t see one particular guy who started messing with your head in the best way possible. 

That was until you saw someone turning their head back, as if they sensed you standing there, and your mouth fell open in shock. 

You came closer as Rafe stood up from his chair with a smug look on his face, but your eyes were too hungry, taking him in, to even try to be respectful. 

“Your hair! Oh god, Rafe! How—why—when?" Your hand reached out to touch his freshly buzzed hair, rubbing it back and forth. 

“Texted you as soon as I finished. Just wanted to get rid of the past, y’know.” He shrugged, soft eyes studying your face that was way closer while you inspected his new haircut. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s hot—I mean, you look hot. It suits you.” You stepped back, looking up and down, trying to memorize a new image. Rafe did look hotter. You suddenly noticed his sharp jawline, strong neck, and shoulders. Damn, he looked bigger. He looked healthier. With that spark in his blue eyes, smoothed, tan skin, and muscles... Oh god, you felt your face getting hotter as your eyes lingered on his arms way too long. 

How the hell did you miss his sudden transformation from being a frat guy to a rich golden boy? Was it the effect of his quitting drugs and finally drifting apart with his previous lifestyle and friends?

“It definitely does. Though I'll miss playing with them.” You mumbled, suddenly nervous and shy under his gaze.

“You think I look hot, hm?” He teased, placing a firm yet gentle hand on your lower back.

Touchy, but never overstepping. 

“Don’t you know that already?” You bit your lip to hold back a smile, placing your hands on Rafe’s upper arms and looking up through your lashes. You both felt that sudden tickling feeling running through your veins at the eye contact, and it made you both start smiling without any words being said. 

“A’ight, I think we should go get something to eat.” 

You were going around the people who flooded the beach house that you were currently in. With you constantly spending time with Rafe, your friends almost begged you to the party, only to leave you almost instantly as they got too interested in the experience of alcohol. Not that you were too upset about it, because you still asked Rafe to come with you, and he was more than happy to do anything for you. 

The music was too loud in the main room, and you went through the back door to an open yard that led right to the beach and was still full of drunk people, but at least there was some fresh air, and Rafe had already been waiting for you on the bench near the big wooden table with lots of drinks. 

You left him just for a few minutes just to use a bathroom, but when you stepped outside, you saw him talking to a guy that you had only seen around when Rafe was doing drugs. Your heart started beating faster at the sight of their obviously not so calm conversation, and you rushed closer to know what was happening. 

“Rare? What’s going on?” You stepped beside him, brushing your hand against his stiff back. “What do you want from him?” You pointed a finger at the guy whose name you didn’t bother to remember, and he just snickered back at you. 

“Nothing. It’s alright, sweetheart.” 

“Quit being a pussy, man. I have the best shit with me today. You’ll get high as a kite.” The guy completely ignored you, only looking at Rafe. You could physically feel the anxiety washing over you at the thought of it happening again, of Rafe just walking away with him right now and leaving you here alone. 

You tugged at his arm, trying to catch his attention. “Rafe, you promised. We should go now, please.” He looked back at you, nodding without hesitation and catching your hand to interlace your fingers. 

“Told you that I quit it. Go chase someone else, Hugh.” 

“Because of this bitch?” The moment this word left his mouth, Rafe’s hands gripped the front of Hugh’s t-shirt, backing him against the table and knocking over a few bottles. 

“Call her a bitch one more fucking time and I’ll knock off your teeth.” The guy lifted his hands in surrender, as Rafe was seething with anger, without a doubt meaning what he just said. 

You tugged gently on his arm again, trying to ease the situation. “Rafe, let’s just go, please.” You urged, your voice soft but firm, hoping to ground him before things escalated any further.

Rafe’s breath was heavy, his grip on Hugh’s shirt still tight, but his eyes were fixed on you now, softening at your touch. Slowly, he released Hugh, stepping back and running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, we’re done here.” Rafe muttered, his voice low and controlled, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface. You guided him away from the curious people, who were already whispering about the unfolded scene.

You sat on a wooden bench under a giant tree, with your legs thrown over Rafe’s and almost no distance between you two. It happened so instantly, so naturally, that none of you even thought about it. Rafe had his warm hands laying on your thighs and knees and rubbing your exposed skin in small circles, keeping his eyes down.

A silence lingered between the two of you, and while Rafe was too lost in his head, you took your time to admire him. You spent so much time together over the past month, not because you felt obliged to, but because it was simply amazing. Underneath all of those layers, you found real Rafe, the one who was teasing, who was funny, and the one who was super protective and incredibly caring.

You had never expected to be absolutely down for a man like him, but he was getting so much better with every passing day, never giving you a reason to doubt his intentions. Of course you didn’t forget Rafe’s words about him wanting to be more than your friend, and it lingered over your head every time you caught him staring at you. Though he had never rushed anything, wanting to have that natural bond between you grow stronger and only showing his hidden desires with glances full of admiration and with careful touches. 

Rafe’s head suddenly shot up, eyes clear yet narrowed. He smirked, seeing you already looking at him and subconsciously tightening his hold on your leg. He held eye contact for a few seconds, making a smile tug at your lips before he looked away, shaking his head with a deep chuckle. 

“What?” You half-whispered, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me?” You tilt your head slightly to the side, trying to hold back a smile, but miserably fail when he moves a tiny bit closer and all you can see, feel, and smell is him. “You’re like— I’m— Fuck, you made me stutter like a damn middle schooler…” He was completely infatuated by you, barely able to handle his violently beating heart.  

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound warm and full of affection. The way Rafe was fumbling with his words, clearly flustered, made you feel something deep in your chest—a flutter that wasn’t just attraction but something more vulnerable, something you hadn’t expected to feel when you first started spending time together.

“Rafe…” You whispered, leaning in just a little, your voice low and teasing. “You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

His eyes darkened slightly at your words, the smirk on his lips turning into something more sincere, more tender. He took a deep breath, shifting so he was closer, his chest nearly touching yours. His fingers slowly and carefully traced the edge of your skirt, and the way his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips made the air feel thick with tension.

“Don’t do that.” He said softly, his voice a mixture of amusement and longing. “I’m trying not to make this harder for myself.”

“Trying?” You raised an eyebrow, your teasing smile not leaving your lips. You knew exactly what you were doing, enjoying every second of his reaction. “You’re doing a pretty terrible job of it.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, his hand now resting on your waist, his thumb brushing back and forth slowly as if he were trying to steady himself. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and erratic. He leaned forward just enough to close the space between your faces, his lips hovering over yours, but not touching. The energy in the air around you suddenly shifted, and you raised your hand to his neck to pull him even closer.

“I don’t want to rush this.” Rafe murmured, his voice low and serious, his forehead gently pressing against yours. “But god… you make it so damn hard to hold back.”

You could feel his heart beating against yours, the rhythm erratic but strong. You didn’t speak for a moment, simply breathing with him, caught up in the quiet intensity of the moment.

“You don’t have to hold back. I’m not going anywhere, Ray.” You said softly, your voice almost a promise.

And with that, the tension seemed to snap, the silent understanding between you both growing stronger. He finally closed the space between you, his lips pressing gently against yours, tentative at first, as if he were still unsure but desperate to feel you. And as the kiss deepened, as he pulled you closer to his body, you were completely lost. 

The kiss deepened further, his tongue gently coaxing yours into a slow dance. He was lost in you, the intensity of the moment making everything else fade away. The way you responded, so naturally, so eagerly, only fueled his desire. Rafe’s grip on you tightened, pulling you onto his lap, your bodies fully pressed together now, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

When he finally pulled back, his lips still brushed against yours, his breath shaky and uneven. He looked at you, his eyes full of something deeper than just desire—there was a tenderness, raw and vulnerable, something that had been buried beneath the walls he’d built around himself.

"Thank you." Rafe breathed out, his voice thick with emotion. "For being here. For helping me... through all of this. I don’t think I could have done it without you."

You smiled softly, licking your lips before speaking. “You don’t have to thank me. You should be proud of yourself for being able to do that.” You traced your fingers down the side of his face. “Just promise me you won’t stop trying if something hard happens, okay? You have me, and you have your sixers who care about you too.”

“Okay. I won’t. I promise.” Turning his head to the side to place a kiss on the palm of your hand that lingered on his face, Rafe pulled your body closer to him. There was still a lot to work on, but hidden away from other people, you finally savoured a quiet moment between you two, and for the first time, there was nothing but peace and warmth in both of your hearts. 

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Twelve Days: Part 3**

Part 3 of this littel series! Thank you for your patience and for reading this story! I will create a post for all the parts soon! Hope you guys enjoy and feel free to send theories or any ideas that you guys would want me to consider incorporating.

Warnings: infidelity, break ups, mentions of depression and anxiety and their symptoms, mentions and use of alcohol and drugs, breast/ nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms

WC: 7.8K

Day Nine:

Harry’s POV:

Harry was still reeling from that steamy night you two had shared a couple days prior. He was relieved that you weren’t regretful of what had happened that night. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if you’d shut him out afterwards. He wasn’t regretful of what had happened but maybe just a little bit upset of how it had happened. He never wanted you to feel like he had done that because he was lonely, like you’d said then. Or worse, to get back at Julie for her infidelity. In all honesty, he just liked being around you more than he remembered.

He really was worried that this would feel out of the blue for you. But, meanwhile Julie was off with this Joe guy this time around, he was growing apart from her and his love for her was starting to fade. You were also dealing with a lot and he had wanted so badly to check in and to talk to you, to be there for you, but you had asked for space from everyone and he wanted to respect that. He felt that he could have reached out anyway, just to let you know that he had your back or was there to support if you ever needed it, but he hadn’t. And now, he was a bit concerned that this all would seem like a convenient time for him to get close all to just hook up with you.

The context in general just had his anxiety skyrocketing and he was struggling to play it cool. Even the fact that you were playing it so cool had him worrying just a bit more because he liked you! And maybe to you it was just a thing that you’d done in the heat of the moment and again, he’d end up with hurt feelings. He would jump at the opportunity to do it again though, that’s what was scary to him. And well, like he had mentioned to you before, it wasn’t like he was just realizing what a catch you were. He knew that from way before. And the more he got to know you over the years, the more he grew to care about. He had found himself admiring you before but it was never more than just a thought in the moment. When you started to date Ash you started to pull away from all of them and he didn’t like that. To him, it was red flag behavior to have a partner who always wanted you to change things for the relationship to work. You were sacrificing a lot to keep that relationship going. And sure, you put on a happy face when someone you love asks you to do something for them but moving to the other side of the country where you know no one? Being away from your family? You had done everything you could and still, you were left high and dry.

A part of him understood what you had said when you told him that you felt weak for letting Ash affect you that way. He was familiar with the feeling, he had allowed your sister’s infidelity slide before. In a way, what he had going with her would be better than retuning to England and be neglected by his own family. At least here he knew that your family loved him and supported him. He had friends that were like his family, colleagues and mentors that were like parent figures to him and helped him get to where he was now. For all of that, he felt that staying in an unhappy marriage wasn’t such a big price to pay. But like all things we compromise our happiness for, it started to take a toll and now, he needed Julie to let him go.

Y/N’s POV:

After your first sexual encounter with Harry it was relieving to know that you were both on the same page about it. However, there was still a lingering fear over how far it would go the next time. Would there even be a next time? Should there even be a next time? The day prior had just been spent at the house relaxing with everyone, there were thankfully no weird or tense vibes between you. You’d gone out to shop for the Christmas meal ingredients and the rest of the ladies decided to tag along, which you were a bit bummed about because you wanted to take the time to think about what the fuck you were going to do about this thing with Harry. He was important to you, you did have love for him to a certain degree because he was part of the family, but now you were attracted to him and that could easily become something else. Something more…and well that would be weird, wouldn’t?

“Y/N!” Your aunt raised her voice as she waved her hand in your face.

“Huh?” You asked as you finally snapped out of your thoughts. 

“I wanted to know what wine the Christmas meal will pair well with?” She inquired. “I do prefer a white but depends on the red it goes with, I wouldn’t mind it.”

“I’m not too sure to be honest, just get what you like.” You assured her and she seemed satisfied with that answer before putting down the bottle of white she had picked up.

As you turned your gaze to find the scallions you locked eyes with your sister who gave you a slightly questioning gaze. To be fair, you did seem quite out of it and it wasn’t with no reason. You had a lot on your mind right now. When you located the scallions you started making your way over, not missing that she had followed after you.

“Hey, you good?” She asked you and you briefly turned to her and nodded.

“Yeah, just have a lot on my mind.” You explained.

“Mmm…with the holidays and all?” She asked and you just nodded. Obviously, she was asking if this had anything to do with Ash and you just agreed. “I do too. I’m really glad Harry got to be here for this. He really loves you guys and well, vice versa!” She explained, “But I do wish I could spend the holidays with well…” she trailed off.

“It’s that serious?”

“Yeah. Or at least to me. S’why he came a few days ago.” She said and you nodded. “I wonder what Harry’s gonna do when we split up…” she said quietly.

“I think he’ll be okay.” You assured her.

“Yeah… I do hope he finds happiness though.” She said and you felt your tummy do a funny flip when you wondered if you could make Harry happy? But that idea soured when you wondered if your sister would feel the same about Harry’s happiness if he wanted to explore that with you. Regardless, you let the thought go because it was a ridiculous one to ever consider. It’s not like anything with Harry could actually take off. You just offered her a smile before grabbing the little bunch of scallions and put them into the produce baggy. 

“Hey, ummm…I really just need some alone time today. Could you maybe talk everyone into going out for dinner so I can just cook something for myself and unwind a little?” You asked and she smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” She assured you.

With that, you felt a bit more at ease. You were looking forward to having some quiet time in the evening. That was until your sister asked if she could come into your room.

“Yeah, come in!” You called out.

“Hey, would you mind if Harry stayed behind with you? He’s not up for acting like everything is perfect with us.” She explained. You felt your body warming up at the sound of that. “He’s goo about keeping to himself.” She added in, as if you needed any further convincing.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You mumbled back as nonchalantly as possible.

“Okay, thank you. I don’t know if you noticed that he’s been sleeping in the room over here?” She asked and you nodded.

“I heard him coming in one night.”

“Okay. But I did tell him you really wanted some space tonight so he’ll be mindful of that.” She assured you.

“Thank you for going these lengths.” You smiled at her.

“It’s the least I could do for you after…you heard me out so graciously and-”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.” You assured her and she nodded with a small smile.

“I’ll see you tonight then.”

“You can also take them to get drunk afterwards if you want…” you added and she chuckled.

“We’ll see where the night takes us!” She said before leaving you.

After everyone had gone, you emerged from the shower and lazed around for a few more minutes undisturbed, which seemed a little odd to you. So you made your way out to the kitchen, thinking that you might coax Harry out to join you, but you were nearly done with your carbonara and he had not come out. You’d made enough for him, so decided to go get him. Your gentle raps on his door were greeted by him slightly opening up for you.

“Hey, I made carbonara for us for dinner.” You informed him and his lips quirked up a bit.

“Oh great, I was just about to order in.” He explained and your brows knotted together in confusion.

“You were gonna eat alone?”

“Well yeah, you wanted space, no?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s true but not necessarily from you.” You explained timidly and he smiled a bit wider. “Kinda thought you would’ve come to grab me the moment everyone was gone.”

“Normally yeah. But I just…I thought it was because of me, you know? That you needed some space.” He explained.

“Oh…ummm…I can’t say that our situation hasn’t been on my mind a lot.” You explained, “But it’s more to do with everyone looking at me like a wounded bird.” You explained and he smiled a bit. “Like I get it, but goes back to the pride thing we talked about before. I just hate that I feel like I’m doing good but then everyone looks at me like I’m not and it makes me feel like shit.” You elaborated.

“For the record you are not giving wounded bird vibes. It’s more non-combative and I think that scares your family a bit. They might think it’s a facade when it’s not. You’re just moving through the acceptance of it.” He said, “Well, at least that’s what I gathered from what I’ve seen and what we’ve talked about.” 

“Well, thank you for…seeing me.” You said softly and he smiled. “So…do you want to have dinner with me?” You asked again. And he didn’t need any further coaxing before he was serving himself the other half of the food before you two were sat beside each other on stools around the kitchen island as you talked about how your days had gone. Your laughter had just died down from a story Harry had finished telling and you reached over to him.

“Wait, wait, wait….” You giggled. “You had sauce on your chin.” You laughed breathily as he held still for you to swipe it away with your thumb.

“Thanks.” He hummed as you pulled your hand away to wipe it on the napkin by your plate.

“Of course.” You assured him.

“I’ve been…thinking a lot about what happens when we go back home.” He said and the lightness of the mood started to fade.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… like I…I care about you a lot and I don’t want you to feel like I just used you and I too don’t want to feel… used. I think it would hurt a lot more coming from you.” He explained. “But then, I also understand that no matter how we go about this, it’ll look really bad on us if we decide to…you know?” He said inquisitively and your gaze softened as you started to read between the lines of what he was saying. Did he want to try to be with you? “I don’t even know what I’m saying any more just…forget about it.” He mumbled.

“Harry.” You sighed as you reached for his arm. Your palm anded gently over his bicep. He looked up at you from his empty plate. “I don’t know what the fuck we’re even doing but I know that I feel safe with you. I feel taken care of. You hear me and see me. And whether it’s right or wrong, I have a huge fucking crush on you too.” You admitted “Just saying, you know? In case you…didn’t pick up on that before.” You said with less confidence now as you started to feel a little uncertain of the vulnerability you had just displayed. 

However, before you could second guess yourself any further, Harry was reaching for your face and leaning in as his lips kissed yours. You easily melted into his kiss and started leaning into him as well. And as your kiss grew more heated you had been moved onto the couch. You could feel his arousal through his pants and it was making you lose your self-control. You were obsessed with the way his arms squeezed around your waist so strongly, it made you feel small and delicate in his hold. It was different than with Ash, where you often felt like you were the one who did the caretaking. When he was holding you like this, you felt taken care. When he kissed you as deeply and intentionally as he was, you felt safe and warm from deep inside. 

“Let me suck you off.” you mumbled again his lips and Harry inhaled sharply.

“You don’t have to.” He breathed out.

“I want to.” You assured him, “Really badly.” You added, your eyes bore into his gaze, asserting your desire. “Please?” You asked softly as you placed a single kiss on his lips and then pulled back. “Know you want me to, so stop pretending.” You hummed with a smirk as you kissed his chin, then his jaw, and then his neck, where you sucked gently.

Harry rolled his head to the side to give you the space to work down the column of his throat with your lips. You were gentle, to ensure you weren’t leaving any marks on him, no matter how badly you wanted to. Your hand started to slither up beneath his shirt, feeling up his abs and his taut chest before bringing your hand down to the elastic band of his sweats. Your finger teased at it before you slid back a bit on his lap, enough to grope around the bulge in his pants. He sighed shakily as you rubbed the heel of your palm over his cock back and forth, making him squirm beneath you. After a bit of teasing you started to slide down to your knees and there was no falsified chivalry on his end any more. Harry was rushing to slid his bottoms down to his ankles while you pulled one of the pillows to the ground to kneel more comfortably. And when his cock was standing tall before your face your mouth started to salivate. You were so impatient to get him into your mouth. You reached for him and give him a few gentle strokes. You smiled up at him as you heard his breath hitch. His hot and smooth skin was making you impatient, so you just lowered your face and gave a testing lick from the base to his tip. 

“Fuck, please get me into your mouth.” He muttered desperately. You smirked up at him and proceeded to part your lips and sucked his tip between your lips. You let your tongue swirl around it, finding the underside of it and rubbing against it. You felt his thighs flex beneath one of your hands as he moaned deeply. “Fucking hell…”

You were wet just from hearing his lovely sounds as you sucked him off. You slowly started to take more, enjoying the feeling of his fingers tangling into your hair and helping you keep the pace that was making him shiver. He was bigger than your previous partners, so you were struggling with not being too sloppy, but he didn’t seem to mind it. Specially as you gagged around him as you tried to get him in all the way.

“Fuck, just use your hand for now. S’okay, you’ll get it eventually.” He assured you and that alone had your pussy fluttering, your walls were pulsing steadily from how turned on you were. 

Harry was encouraging and vocal and it was the hottest thing that you’d ever experienced. Even more so as he held you gently by the head and started to thrust into your mouth, you relaxed your jaw to help him get in as deep as he was craving. His muttered curses and praises were music to your ears. Despite that tearfulness in your eyes, you were thinking about when the next opportunity you’d get to do this again would be. He was getting close to coming from what he was saying and you were desperate to get a taste of him. You started to suck around his tip again and started to stroke at the pace he’d been thrusting, taking over once again. You felt his body just relax into the couch as one of his hands skimmed over your cheek, feeling the bulge of his cock against it.

“I’m gonna come…fuck…” he moaned deeply as your hot, little mouth worked him to his climax. And moments later you could feel his body starting to tense up beneath you. His breath hitch and you glanced up at him, his head was thrown back into the cushions, eyes squeezed shut as his jaw started to slack until the deepest moan flowed from his mouth as he started to come. His hand went back to your hair, gripping it hard as he held you in place until you felt the first spurt of his cum pooling on your tongue. You moaned around him in response which made his cock twitch as he started to shoot more of his sperm into your mouth. You swallowed around him quickly before you felt a few more spurts fill your mouth with his warmth and flavor before he was panting and threading his fingers into your hair. His thighs were trembling as you gave a few gentle sucks to clean him off before you pulled away from his length and let it plop down against his thigh.

He was still half hard and it made you wonder if he’d get back to full size if you played with him ever so gently. But that plan was soon cut short as he pulled you up onto the couch until you were laying across it. Harry was laid on his side as he kissed you and help you get your own pants and under wear down your legs until his fingers were skimming over your labia and then sliding down to your entrance to feel your arousal. You were so fucking wet, it was embarrassing in the slightest. He spread your arousal around you and started to rub against your clit with two gentle fingers. The circular motions were dizzying as you kissed sloppily. Your legs were spread for him, allowing him ease of access while he pleasured you. 

“Please.” You whispered as his two fingers teased at your entrance. He smirked and then sat up and placed the throw pillows beneath your back to prop you up enough against the  inner corner of the couch and then he sunk down between your legs onto his knees. You had a perfect view of him kissing up your thighs as he guided one of your legs over his shoulder and held the other open by the back of your thigh and planted it against the couch. 

When his lips met with your clit your walls clenched tight. Watching him was something different entirely, it was even more erotic to see him throw all caution out the window as he just buried his face between your legs. His hot, smooth tongue rolled over your clit in intentional swipes until you were trembling. You were pressing him even closer to you, grinding up against his face as you did everything you could to feel even more than you already were. When he finally put his fingers back in you were done for. 

Two of his thick digits were gliding in and out of your little hole with ease. The soft squelching sounds of the friction was making you eve more wet for him. The way he was thrusting in and rubbing into your g-spot and then sucking on your throbbing little clit was making your vision blur with pleasure. You just wanted to come for him and if he kept this up you would be making a mess. It was too much in the absolute best way possible. Your blood was flowing hot and heavy through your veins, you were completely losing yourself as your hips started to grind into his movements all on their own. You were right on the edge, just needing a few more seconds of his merciless fingers prodding into your g-spot to get you to come. A broken cry left your mouth and then it happened. Despite how badly you wanted to watch, your eyes squeezed shut and your head rolled back into the pillows as you started to come. 

“H-harry! Oh my god!” You gasped as he started to finger fuck you a bit harder and he started to rub at your clit with his thumb instead as he leaned over you now.

“Look at me. Right at me, baby.” He said lowly and your glassy eyes met with his and he smirked at the sight of you all fucked out from his fingers alone. “You’re squeezing so fucking hard. You’re gonna come again, aren't you?” He asked and you nodded, “Come on then. Come for me, baby.” He egged you on and kissed you to swallow down your sounds. 

Your walls were spasming around his fingers erratically. Your thighs were trying to close around his body but couldn’t as he was in the way. But thankfully, his pace and intensity started to diminish enough that you started to relax. And when he pulled his fingers from you he sucked them clean before delving back into your space to kiss you. Your lips smeared together sloppily for a few more minutes as you caught your breath and came down from your orgasms. 

“Alright?” He asked with a teasing smile and you nodded wordlessly, still reeling mentally. You pulled him back down for another kiss. This one was slow and deep, you both got lost in it for several minutes until the kiss ended naturally. “I really fucking like you.” Harry said softly and you felt your face going all hot with a blush.

“I really like you too.” You whispered back.

Day Ten:

To say that you were on cloud nine after your evening with Harry, was an understatement. You just felt good all around in a way that you hadn’t in quite a long while. Even the lingering concern of what you would do in regards to your sister wasn’t enough to break you out of this high you were feeling. 

  Not surprising, but everyone was pretty hungover from their dinner and drinks outing the night before. You and Harry had to go and pick then up nearly at 11pm. By then, you two had been cuddled up in your bed and watching a film but the call from Julie soon came for you two to come to their aid, one of you to drive them home and the other to drive back Julie’s car. All this to say that your morning was quiet. By the time you’d returned from your walk, showered, and sat for breakfast, only you and Harry were up and active and found yourselves on the lounge chairs, taking in some sun side by side. The look he gave you revealed that he wanted to be closer, but alas, that wasn’t possible in this particular setting.  

It was past noon when your sister emerged from the pool house, she had ordered in some food and was going to get it. The door bell ringing is what roused everyone else and you and Harry made them breakfast for lunch and aided them in balancing out the effects of the hangover. You had retired to your bedroom for a bit and you perked up at the soft knocks on your door. You were fully expecting to see Harry but saw your sister peeking in instead.

“Hey, do you have a few minutes?” She asked and you nodded, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. She dropped onto your bed and exhaled shakily. “Thanks for keeping Harry entertained. I know it’s not your responsibility but-”

“Oh no, it’s alright. We get along well and I’ve liked having someone to talk to.” 

“Okay. He seems to enjoy your company as well and ummm…I just…I don’t want you to get hurt any more. Like, maybe he’s doing other subconsciously, but I feel like he’s flirting with you a little just to make me jealous or upset? I don’t know…” she sighed and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“I don’t get that feeling at all, Julie. I think that it’s nice for someone to see you and appreciate you when you haven’t had that for a long time. He’s not creepy and he doesn’t make me uncomfortable in any way. I think the way that you guys are all walking on eggshells around me trying to not make me feel overwhelmed with care, he’s just being a little bit more attentive towards me. That’s how he’s showing me that he cares about what I’ve been dealing with, you know?”

“And you’re okay with that?” She asked and you nodded.

“He’s not over bearing about it like mom and dad are.” You explained and she nodded in understanding. “Also, we’ve just…gotten a little closer with everything going on. We both needed someone to confide in, you know?”

“And what about me? I confided in you but you’re siding with him?” She asked and you sighed.

“It’s not that simple…I think we’re both in the position of being let down by people we were in love with.” You explained and she sighed.

“Right.” 

“Yeah and it’s just…easier to be there for each other when we know what it is that we’re dealing with, you know?” 

“Yeah. I get it.” She said curtly and then stood up wordlessly and left. You sighed and were tempted to go after her but decided to just give her some space before bringing it up again.

It was around dinner time when you had stepped out for a little smoke, you had skipped lunch and with this small tiff with your sister now on your mind, you weren’t feeling too hungry for dinner, but you needed to have something. Harry interrupted you and stepped out onto your small patio.

“Hey.” He greeted you and you smiled slightly.

“Hey…so my sister came by and basically wanted to know if I had noticed that you were being really friendly with me to piss her off.” you explained and he sighed. “I told her that I did see it in that way and that we were actually getting along really well and just sharing what we’ve been dealing with and that we were both bonding over the experience of disappointed by people we were in love with.” You continued, “And then she got upset and left. So if she’s pissed at you later it might be because of that.” You informed him.

“Noted…” he hummed and took the joint that you offered over. He took a hit before returning it to you.

“When we get back home, we should make time to hang out.”

“Of course we’re gonna hang out.” Harry said.

“I know that…but Julie might not be too happy about us being friends.”

“Is that what we are then? Friends?” He asked you with a small smirk.

“Yeah. We are…for all intents and purposes.” You explained. “I just really don’t want her to keep thinking that you’re doing this to get back at her for cheating, you know? Maybe if she sees that we have a genuine connection she’ll be more open if anything more pans out.” You explained cautiously. You didn’t want to jump the gun with what this could be with him and you also wanted to protect your sister’s feelings.

“So, just to clear this up…down the line…if I asked you on a date…”

“I’d say yes.” You assured him with a timid smile as your eyes met his.

“Good to know.” He hummed with a smile. 

Day Eleven:

You had woken up feeling a bit more deflated. Your sister’s anger had carried over into the night and no doubt into this new day. She was also giving Harry an extra cold shoulder, not really worried about keeping up appearances, like she usually would. That night, she asked Harry if they could go out and talk. Harry did text you that she was still pretty pissed off and you just went to bed instead of waiting up for a visit from him. Sure enough, your theory was proven correct when you joined everyone for breakfast and your sister just shot a quick glance at you before carrying on with fixing up her plate. She also seemed to be ignoring Harry and was being curt with everyone else, so at least her wrath wasn’t limited to you.

But throughout the day, she just continued having drinks, keeping her buzz going until she just had to lay down for a bit. Your family celebrated on the 24th, given your mother’s cultural background so you counted her out of helping you with dinner prep and Harry jumped in, in her stead. You were having a lovely time with him and your mom to prepare the meal you’d all share later on before your gift exchange. After a couple hours of work you’d all gone your separate ways to get ready for dinner. You always did a family picture before eating, so you got slightly dressed up for that. You had just finished your make up and then got into your outfit. It wasn’t anything too fancy, just pair of brown, gingham print trousers and a green button up cardigan. You got some chunky, silver hoops on and left the chain you wore everyday around your neck. For the photo, you got into the ballet flats you’d brought, you’d definitely change back into your scuffette’s after the photo. With a few spritzes of perfume, you were hurrying out of your bedroom since you were being called to hurry up. You saw everyone already out in the living room, talking about what the best arrangement would be for the photo. In the end, you just sat criss-cross on the ground and after a few attempts everyone was pleased with how it came out and you all sat down for dinner. 

“Seems like Julie’s back to her normal self.” You said to Harry as she insisted on fixing his plate. 

“She’s just really fucking drunk.” He said quietly, “Lucky for us, she’s an affectionate drunk.” He mumbled and you hummed. 

Soon everyone was seated and you started having your meal together. Due to her drinking binge, Julie was definitely being the life of the party. At least for now, everything was going as it should have. You were all laughing and getting along, your worries being the last things on your minds. You rushed off to change after eating so that you could participate in the games more comfortably. And it did help, because you were having a lot of fun playing board games with everyone. You and Harry were exchanging heated glances the entire time and it was going by unnoticed thanks to everyone’s slight drunkenness. And soon after, you also enjoyed a couple rounds of karaoke to kill some time before opening the presents. When you guys did your traveling christmases you only did a secret Santa amongst each other since the main expense was the traveling bit. Regardless, your mother had gotten you the lovely earrings that you’d put on your wishlist and you immediately got them on. Everyone else seemed pleased with their gifts and maybe it was because they were so drunk. The first one to tap out was your sister, who disappeared to the pool house as you guys had a few more goes at the portable karaoke mic Harry had brought along before your aunt turned in and then your parents soon followed. It nearing 2am though, so you weren’t surprised and well, your issues with insomnia were coming pretty in handy as you and Harry had another go at a card game, Go Fish, for your benefit.

“You have to know that I’m a sore loser.” You warned with a grin.

“Well, you can work on it.” He chuckled quietly. “Do you have a five?”

“You suck.” You mumbled as you handed it over and he chuckled.

“Losers can get prizes too.”

“Like?” You asked with a smirk.

“Like…loser has to share their bed with me.” He said lowly and your lips twitched up in a slight grin.

“Looks like I have no more sets.” You decided and he laughed quietly before you also started giggling quietly. Eventually, you did lose, but in a larger sense, you’d won. 

Your lips met Harry’s gently through your giggles as he walked you down the dark hallway to your bedroom. Thankfully, you’d left the door ajar and you two were able to push inside easily. He closed it quietly before walking over to you and grabbing your face and bringing your lips to his own. 

Your kiss was slow and deep, absolutely dripping with the yearning that had been building up between you two over the night. The way his hands started to roam over your body made you feel desirable in the best way. You could get lost in your lust for each other and enjoy it completely. He was so warm, you wanted to feel him skin to skin. So you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and he very quickly got the hint. Your lips made a quick smacking sound as they parted wetly from his. You reared back to allow him to get undressed and you took advantage and pulled off your top quickly. Before you even had a chance to unclasp your bra he was pulling the cups down and leaning down to suck at your nipple. You sighed happily as his free hand reached around you to get the bra off. You loved how impatient he was and appreciated his urgency. Next thing you knew, you were falling back onto your bed as he kissed over your right breast now. You whined lowly when he nibbled down with a little too much force on your sensitive little bud. Your tight grip in his hair reeled him back.

“Sorry.” He mumbled against your heated skin and then started kissing his way up to your lips again.

“S’alright.” You assured him before he pecked your lips again. “Ummm…I did have a question though… did you ummm…did you want to h-have sex?” You asked him with a slightly nervous tone on your voice.

“Eventually. But I think that tonight we both drank a little too much for comfort.” He brought up, “So to answer your question, yes. But tonight’s not the time. Tonight, I just kinda wanna lay here and hold you.” He hummed with a smile.

“Topless?” You asked and he grinned.

“If possible, yes. I like how it feels to be against you, skin to skin.” 

You felt your blood rushing up to your face at this suddenly romantic feeling blossoming between you two. He settled in beside you and draped his arm over your waist to hold you close. 

“What I said earlier about waiting? Was that the right answer?” He asked and you smiled.

“Definitely.” You confirmed. “But I still want to. I want to so freakin’ bad.”

“Stop with that please.” He chuckled before landing a gentle smack to your lower back. You grinned and then leaned up to land a gentle smooch to his bottom lip.

“Does that mean no kissing?” You asked.

“No, we can definitely kiss.” He mumbled as he dipped down and attached his lips to yours. Suddenly you heard the sliding door from the pool house open, meaning Julie had emerged. “Shit, shit, shit!” He whisper shouted as he  untangled his body from yours. You heard the sliding back door open as well, and just like that, she was inside. Harry was trying to find his clothes without turning on the light. 

“Harry?” You heard her calling from a distance.

“Hide! Just hide!” You rushed out as you heard her coming towards the hallway and calling for him again. 

Harry rushed out to your small patio and out of sight just as you heard your sister’s soft raps against his bedroom door. You sprung out of bed and grabbed a hoodie you had thankfully left on top of the dresser and rushed into the bathroom to get it on in case she decided to pay you visit. You had just put your hands through the sleeves when you heard your bedroom door open and the first thought you had was to flush the toilet and after a few moments you ran the tap to “wash your hands” and then stepped out to see her splayed out on your bed.

“Fuck! What’re you doing here?!” You asked her, trying to sound genuinely startled by her presence.

“Have you seen Harry?” She asked you monotonously and you didn’t trust your voice, but spoke up anyway.

“Uhhh, nope.”

“He’s not in his room.”

“So he’d be here?” You asked.

“I don’t know…just thought maybe he said something to someone if he took off or something.” She then pressed herself up to sit and sighed. “The bed kinda smells like him.” She said softly.

“I think that’s you. You’re wearing one of his shirts.” You pointed out to her and she glanced down and then let out a little giggle. 

“Duh…Sorry…I just…I have a weird feeling.”

“About?”

“Him. He’s been…weird on this trip. Everyone was asking me about it at dinner the other day and I just, didn’t know what to say.” She explained.

“How about a little bit of the truth?”

“No. Way.” She said defensively as she got out of your bed.

“You can’t hide the truth forever. And you don’t have to tell them all the gory details just yet. But, just say that things aren’t going well between you two and are just deciding what the next move is. And not to rub salt in the wood or whatever, but I can’t imagine a world in which any person would be comfortable playing pretend for this long. Maybe you’re better at carrying secrets than he is? Specially if he’s only been keeping it for your sake.” You explained and she sighed.

“I feel like such an asshole every time I talk to you.” She muttered as she walked past you and out of your bedroom. “I’m going to go back to bed.” She said lowly and then closed the door behind her. 

You waited in complete silence, ear pressed against the door to ensure that she was actually heading off and when you heard the sliding door to the backyard open you quietly opened up your own little patio door and Harry hurried inside, trembling from the cold.

“Jesus, m’nearly hypothermic.” He chattered and you were quick to pull open on of your drawers and hand over another sweatshirt you had. You liked them oversized, so you knew he could fit into it easily. And he was quick to pull it over his body and then pulled you into his arms to get more warmth.

“I think you should sleep in your room tonight. Julie, she’s got like a feeling about you or something. She seemed upset.”

“As if she had any right to be upset…” he mumbled.

“I know, but we just need to take it easy, I think.” You weighed in and he nodded.

“You’re right. One more day here and then we can figure things out.” He said quietly as he gave you a little squeeze and you nodded.

“Yeah, just one more day.”

Day Twelve:

It was Christmas Day, but it was also your last day at this house. After Julie’s little midnight run in you had a really hard time going back to sleep, so you started to pack up and then got tired around 6am before passing out for a few hours. It was nearing midday when you woke up again because of the commotion in the kitchen. You washed up and then headed out and greeted your family who were barely starting their first meal of the day. You had just finished fixing your plate up when you saw Harry and Julie approaching hand in hand. They were all smiles as they talked while taking their time to make it to the main house. It was so believable to see them like that, it made your stomach drop. And then you felt that ache in your chest that made your throat start to swell up in that familiar way it always did when you were sure to cry. 

“Looks like everything’s back to normal.” You heard your mom say before you just forced your gaze away and focused back on the task at hand. Whatever the hell was going on right now, you didn’t want it in your face, so you were planning on sneaking away to your bedroom to eat but where soon called out.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Your aunt asked loudly just as your sister and Harry made it inside. “Come eat with us! It’s our last day.” She insisted with an eager smile. But you were just glancing at Harry who immediately found a way to untangle his hand from Julie’s, but only to pull her into his side. You looked back at your aunt, ready to decline.

“Exactly! Our last day here. We should eat together.” Your father added in decidedly.

“Okay.” You said and found your seat between him and your aunt. 

To say that the PDA was on between Harry and your sister, felt like an understatement. This was reminiscent of the when they first started dating. At that time you were very observant and vigilant around Harry. He was new to your lives and you wanted to ensure that his actions matched his words. And obviously, they did and he absolutely fawned over your sister in a way that made you jealous. You were seldom jealous of her but when it came to this kind of attention, she always seemed to be the lucky one. The way her lovers would dote on her and adore her was unfamiliar to you. You hadn’t had that before. You’d always landed the worst people, wolves in sheep’s clothing. You had started to wonder if maybe there was something wrong with you because the way he was looking at her, whether it was genuine or not, was not something you had experienced before. And you wanted it so badly. You finished eating quickly and then slipped away, not wanting to have to look at that, at him, any longer. 

After a while, you heard everyone starting to head out to swim and you decided to stop being a party poor and join in. You had just stepped out of your bedroom when Harry stepped out of his room.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You responded.

“Look, about earlier-”

“No, don’t worry about it.” You shook your head, “It’s a me thing. You did nothing wrong.” You assured him.

“I’m still sorry.” He said and you smiled slightly.

“I must admit…I was a little…jealous too.” You confessed.

“Don’t be.”

“It’s just…always been a little neck and neck with us…a lot of comparisons and competition… so I just…get insecure around her sometimes.” You said as you looked down between you and focused on a spot on the floor. Confessing this to him was hard enough, you would be writhing in discomfort if you held eye contact.

“Look at me.” He insisted. “C’mon.” He insisted and you glanced up into his eyes and smiled at him and then he just surged forward and kissed you passionately. You were lost in it for a few moments before pulling away.

“Not smart.”

“I know, sorry.” He hummed and gave you one final smooch before pulling back. You then just looked at each other for a few moments and then you surged forward and grabbed his jaw and just as you started to tiptoe to reach him you heard a gasp and froze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You heard your sister question angrily. 

“Jules, just leave it.” Harry cut in as you turned around. 

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking-”

“No! You weren’t! What the fuck?!” She whisper shouted. “I knew it!” She seethed. “Whatever the fuck this is, it ends with this trip.” She asserted, looking between the two of you. “I know that I fucked up but that’s still my husband.” She said to you directly now and you nodded.  “And you’ve been sabotaging me, haven’t you? To get to him?” She asked and you scoffed.

“No!”

“it’s not like that.” Harry chimed in and she glanced to him. “Don’t even act offended or territorial over me. You don’t love me.” He reminded her and she clenched her jaw.

“Whether we’re divorced or not, that’s still my sister. It’s fucked up.” She said. “This all ends here.” She stated firmly before rushing off. Your eyes met Harry’s in concern and he shook his head.

“It’ll be okay. It’ll all work out.” He assured you.

“I hope so.”

“It will. It’ll be our Christmas miracle.” He said with a small smile and your own smile started to spread over your lips. 

“Okay.” You whispered, deciding to believe him in that moment. You had to believe that everything would work out exactly as it should. These twelve days had been absolutely perfect and it couldn’t end there. There was definitely more to him. To you. And to what you could be together.

NEXT PART...

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[oediex]

I mean, I'm all for overthrowing capitalism, don't get me wrong. In fact, I am extremely interested in the connection between veganism and anti-capitalism and have an inkling that veganism might or, perhaps, ought to be inherently anti-capitalist, but this is not the place for that argument, and I haven't fully worked it out yet.

I think the end of capitalism is near, yeah, although I would like to point out that many people in the past have thought the same to be the case. They've thought the material conditions were in place for it to end. There has been civil unrest plenty in the past. What usually happened was that a new stage of capitalism developed instead.

And the question is, when the next crash comes, will you/we be able to "prepare for the opportunity to come" with this "entirety of the most amoral and deeply selfish and consumerist population on Earth"? Are they ready for a post-capitalist society? Will they help you/us create a different system that is sustainable and good for the earth? Will they welcome it? Or will they be amoral and deeply selfish and consumerist still and put in place a different system that is equally detrimental to the environment?

I'll tell you how I think capitalism will probably end. It will end when the climate fully breaks down. It's already breaking down, but it's not adequately affecting people in rich Western countries yet. But it will be Bad, and every year that passes is accelerating its arrival. I desperately want to avoid a total breakdown, I have been for about half my life now, and despite things getting worse, there is still some kind of weird sense of hope in me, that we can do it. I think animal rights activism and environmental activism has a large role to play in that. Largely because I think an overthrow of capitalism that doesn't take these movements into account will fail to address a large part of the problem.

Perhaps it's idealistic. I think your ideas are too (and I largely share them). But then I think idealism isn't necessarily a bad thing. I think it drives both of our arguments. I think idealism is the fire beneath it all. And I think such idealism doesn't rule out pragmatism and realism.

I would also like to point out that I don't live in the US, so when I talk of politics and democracy, that's not what I have in mind. I don't have much faith in politics, but my understanding of politics isn't coloured solely by the system in the US. My democracy and your democracy are both gripped in capitalism, but not to the same extent.

I'm sorry you think change is impossible for vegan activism. As a vegan activist, I see change all the time. And I will celebrate every little step towards the right direction that we make. Because whether you want it or not, an overthrow of capitalism will include a move towards a more plant-based lifestyle. Better get as many people on board as we can before we're there.

discussions about sustainability largely have to be in the realm of production, not consumption. while curbing wasteful consumption habits is important, issues of unsustainable goods can only be solved by literally producing less of them. this approach immediately resolves most issues with individualist, moral 'consumer activism' - for instance, it doesn't matter if you personally eat meat or not, but, factually, we need to significantly reduce the size of the animal agriculture industry if we want the earth to remain habitable. whenever you discuss this, a million scratched satisfascists start acting as though we intend to just take away their treats and replace them with nothing - as if the removal of personal automobiles doesn't go hand in hand with the redesigning of cities around walking and public transit, as if the removal of one method of production doesn't mean its replacement by another. the two main errors here, of the treatlerites, and of those who forget that socialism is supported by the people only because it improves their real conditions, should both be avoided.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Squish Time

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, mental health

Summary: Sometimes there is only one way to regulate your nervous system and that is squish time.

Notes: In honour of my anxiety disorder and the fact that sometimes I just want a hockey player to squish me into a mattress to help my brain regulate itself. 👍

2 fics in one day? More likely than you think.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You've had anxiety for as long as you can remember, more of your life had been spent worrying about seemingly silly little things, adrenaline buzzing through your system, than not. It's something you've learnt to deal with and over the years, the work you've put in has made it less of an issue. You have your mechanisms to minimise it, to cope, to enjoy your life and keep panic attacks to a minimum but that doesn't mean that they don't ever happen. Sometimes they happen without any explanation, like your body has been storing up anxiety for a random moment.

It hits you slowly, a winding sort of buzzing through your veins like a thousand bees have decided to make their way into your body and start an orchestra or brass band. It's a familiar but unpleasant sensation that has you wandering around the apartment hands tapping any surface you find in an attempt to expell the sudden burst of adrenaline.

Your heart races, palpitations that feel so strong in your chest that you're certain your heart wants to leap out of your chest and run halfway across the world. Sounds feel dull, deadened like you're underwater, a muffled sense of everything being distant, not there, not with you, taking over. Then the sick feeling hits, like you might be sick at any moment, queasiness hitting you just to add to the other issues. Despite it all, you try to manage it on your own, even knowing Quinn is a room over, you don't want to bother him. Instead you pace and pace and pace even as you struggle to breathe.

It's your pacing, the sound of your feet urgently moving back and forth, around in circles that has Quinn popping his head out of the bedroom where he'd been sorting laundry.

Green eyes assess you, trailing from head to toe. You're biting your lip so hard he's certain you're going to break skin, while your entire body is shaking as you pace, like you've drunk 4 redbulls in quick success or just run a marathon. But it's the way you cycle through various stimms, fingers tapping together in rhythm to try and ground yourself, as your chest heaves in an attempt to get more air in your lungs that really tips him off.

"You okay, baby?"

Your reaction is instant, a sharp turn towards him, eyes wide, head shaking back and forth as tears well in your eyes like you might just cry the Niagra Falls. You look so fucking fragile and he hates it more than anything.

"Okay, okay, c'mere..." He's over to you in three long strides, pulling you tight against his chest, pressing your face into him. You're shaking so hard that it feels like you're a phone on vibrate, like you might blow away in the wind.

It's not everyday you get like this, a rare occurance more so lately, but Quinn's seen it enough to know his options, the sorts of things that do and don't help. Sometimes it just takes his arms around you, a tight grip, as his hands rub paths up and down your back. Sometimes merely the sense of being held for a few moments, the smell of his cologne and the beat of his heart under your ear is enough to ground you.

He can sense that today that's not enough. The way you shake doesn't let up, not even after two minutes of him holding you, there's this calm collectedness to him that hits. A sense that there's a problem, he needs to find a solution and he needs to do so without panicking. Call it his background as a big brother or maybe just being captain of the Canucks, but he sets his own worry aside, his own panic bricked up into a little room.

"You need squish time?" Quinn's voice would be loud to anyone else, heck its loud to his own ears, but muffled to you. He knows how the panic muffles everything for you, the way sounds are quieter, duller, you've told him time and time again that you feel deaf when you're in a panic, so he forces his voice louder to accommodate.

The instant you nod your head, he's moving you to the bedroom, shoving laundry on the floor, not worrying about the mess and helping you to lie on the bed on your back. He's careful to pop pillows under your head and neck for support. There's very little preamble, no real hesitation before he's crawling all 180 pounds of himself up and over you, flopping down ontop of you like a living weighted blanket.

The first time you'd asked for squish time he'd been terrified that he'd hurt you. That you're shallow breathing would be made worse by him compressing you into the mattress, but over time he'd learnt that it was needed sometimes. There was some sort of natural reset that happened to your body when he laid on top of you, a sort of nervous system do over that helped you to ground yourself when all else failed. Squish time was like the fail safe.

For you it was grounding, all encompassing, to feel the weight of Quinn ontop of you in that moment, the way the mattress rose to meet you, the sensation of the blankets under you, his clothes atop you. The weight of him pressing down until you felt surrounded by Quinn. It helped you to calm yourself, so you were thankful in that moment for the 180 pounds of hockey player squishing you, the way your arms wrapped around his waist, the sensation of his hoodie under your fingertips. You were thankful for the way the smell of his cologne and your laundry detergent surrounded you, how you could feel your breaths pushing up against his chest, the resistance calming, the way his face pressed into the crook of your neck like he could use his entire body to shield you from the outside world.

Each breath you took underneath him helped, each moment of being squashed was grounding. You found it easier to focus on the fact you were there, you were safe, you were okay. Each moment drained the adrenaline from your system like Quinn had opened the bee hive to let the swarm of bees escape your bloodstream. Like he'd physically removed the adrenaline himself.

Quinn doesn't even consider moving until he can feel your entire body go boneless, relaxed, till your breaths are even and slow. Even then he just lifts his head to look at you, arms bracketing either side of your head.

"Better?" You look exhausted, in the way you usually do after a panic attack, the influx of adrenaline having worn off and leaving you completely drained.

"Mmm, much better, thank you." You blink at him almost sleepily, but your smile is thankful, Quinn can't help but push forward and press a lazy kiss to your cheek, still keeping most of his weight on you.

"Don't need to thank me, baby, it's what i'm here for. 'm always going to look after you." He means it. He's pretty sure he has 2 goals in life: play good hockey and look after you. The latter he hopes he does for his entire life, it never feels like a chore to help you, he enjoys doing it. He likes that he can calm you down from a panic and that he knows how to make you smile after a long day. You make him feel needed, wanted.

"Can we just lie like this for a little longer?"

"Course. No rush, baby." Quinn settles himself back down on you, face pressed into your neck as your own does the same to him. The two of you lie like that for a while, until the weight of him stops being comforting and becomes a little too claustraphobic and constricting.

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Neve (and Tevinter) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Taash to be added tomorrow (or on Monday Jan 5th)

About Neve:

General:

Neve isn’t rich, and her best coat is a gift from a grateful tailor after she saved his warehouse from an arsonist

Neve’s coat is woven with enchantments to resist fire and lighting 

Neve has never done blood magic. She is against it on principle and judges those who use it 

Neve doesn’t seem to like entertaining extreme hypotheticals since she reacts to Harding’s questions like “What would you take with you to a deserted island?” with asking why she would end up in such situations in the first place 

Neve wouldn’t want gems on her leg, because she thinks they would get stolen within a day of working in Minrathous, and she generally prefers to keep a low profile while on the job

However, she still considers saving up for a new, fancier leg to have more fashion choices. She likes Taash’s idea of getting a ruby inlay for it

Neve never visited Rivain before joining the Veilguard, though she now finds its beaches charming

Ever since she was a baby, Neve was stubborn and asked too many questions (and hated unanswered questions as well)

Neve likes Qunari food but thinks it’s very spicy

Neve likes seafood 

Neve doesn't drink tea

Neve isn’t really close with her family

Neve once tried to use a wisp-repelling artefact the Veil Jumpers found to get rid of the wisps in her room, but it only attracted wisps from the entire Lighthouse

Neve isn’t interested in exploring the mysteries of the Lighthouse because she has enough mysteries on this side of the Veil

(If Rook chooses to save Minrathous) Neve sends civil engineers to assist in Treviso 

On work: 

Neve didn’t want to be a detective when she was a child (not as if in she didn’t like the idea, she just didn’t consider it), though she didn’t have any dream career either 

Neve got into detective work by picking up odd jobs and building a reputation of being good at finding things. Eventually, she was hired to find someone’s brother, a case nobody else wanted to pick up, and her career took off 

Neve agrees that she is cynical and married to her job, but doesn’t consider herself ‘serious’  

Neve allegedly has a system for sorting her papers (Emmrich and Rana are sceptical about its existence) 

(If Neve becomes Dock Town's protector) Elek is implied to visit the Lighthouse again multiple times. Taash mentions seeing him poking around the library. Neve explained that he thought he could grab some fade-touched items to sell, and told him to run the plan by the Caretaker (one would think they did not approve)

On life in Minrathous: 

Neve was born and raised in Minrathous

Neve has never been inside the Archon’s Palace

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) Neve doesn’t regret letting Aelia live because she got information on Venatori out of her, and her death wouldn’t change the past

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) Neve gets to take a break for once in her life because Rana keeping an eye on the Dock Town actually helps

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) People gossip about Neve and Rana after they start their agency :)

Neve describes the rain of Minrathous as "cold fingers down your neck", but she misses it now that she's away from the city. The sound helps her fall asleep 

Neve’s entire apartment could fit inside villa Dellamorte’s dining room 

One of Tevinter papers referred to Neve as "Dock Town dirt-chaser," and to Emmrich as "sinister foreign necromancer”

A Tevinter paper called The Minrathous Herald once wrote that Neve should be exiled. The same paper called Shadow Dragons “traitors to the Empire” 

Neve never runs out of ink because she's on good terms with Minrathous ink sellers 

There is however one banter where she runs out of ink (I think it was with Davrin). Make of that what you will. 

On the Shadow Dragons: 

Neve didn't know Dorian personally until she joined the Shadow Dragons

Neve figured out the Viper's identity even before joining the Dragons. Her not revealing it to the public is one of the reasons he recruited her

Tarquin calls Neve a pain in the ass 

Relationships with companions: 

Neve calls Manfred ‘Fred’ (he seems to like that)

Manfred learns to say Neve's name (likely only happens if you revive him at the Necropolis, though I am not sure)

Neve introduces Lucanis to a spice shop in Dock Town

Harding describes Neve’s tastes in coffee as “made of gutter water filtered through an old sock”

Lucanis once showed Neve’s coffee to Viago. He found it “unsettling” 

Davrin thinks drinking Neve's coffee is worse than the Joining

Neve spoils Assan (but denies that accusation)

Neve is rather quick to consider questioning corpses with Emmrich’s help for her cases 

Neve is very apprehensive about lichdom and the perspective of Emmrich eventually turning evil (just like Emmrich isn't thrilled about her taking over the Threads for similar reasons)

Lucanis is concerned about Neve taking over the Threads. Mainly, about how much they are paying her

Neve has multiple banters with Taash discussing her relationship with Lucanis. Taash initially thinks of it as some sort of predator-prey dynamic, but Neve says she is not into that and explains that they are taking it slow and cautious. They both went through a lot of pain in their lines, which they tend not to show for different reasons

Neve's relationship with Lucanis is also more than she usually looks for with people

Neve takes Taash to Hal’s fish fry stand. Taash loved it :)

Taash offers Neve help on ladders in case she may need it/it gets stuck on steps due to being hook-shaped, mentioning they knew a Lord of Fortune who lost a hand and whose shoulders hurt while climbing because of it. Neve seems to appreciate the gesture, even though she can handle herself

Neve thinks Taash is nice to work with, offering help without being overbearing like some people are

Neve asks Taash to teach her Gold Thief (a Lord of Fortune dice game), so she can play it with the Shadow Dragons, and then subsequently gets beaten by the Viper

On Tevinter: 

Fashion is important in Tevinter because a good outfit lets people know you are under the protection of someone powerful

There aren’t many mages in Docktown, which is one of the reasons the government doesn’t care about it 

The big red cat near Halos’s stand is named Ferdinand

Stains on clothes can be cleaned with magic

You can get pineapples anywhere in Minrathous 

Neve calls the magic used for the lights in Minrathous a party trick, but Emmrich considers it a high-level enchantment because of its quality and duration

Tevinter doesn’t regulate the charms sold in the market (which is why there are a lot of scammers who sell fakes)