#do you ever get that pain in your chest like your going to have a heart attack and start panicking bc your alone and no one can help you?

[rafesangelita]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | PROLOGUE

a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©

SUMMARY: nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the handsome kook that came crashing into your life.. quite literally. it’s hard to think that at one point you and rafe didn’t know one another, especially since you two have spent every passing day together for the last four months.

WARNINGS: drug use, driving under the influence, reckless driving, rafe arguing with ward, descriptions of a mild injury, mentions of addiction and sobriety, blood, reader tends to rafe’s wounds, fluff, opposite of slowburn, forced proximity (?), time skip (from four months ago to the current day), slight angst

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ahhhhh!! it’s finally here, and i couldn’t be more excited to share this with all of you!! all feedback is deeply appreciated <3 feel free to ask to be added to the taglist if you’d like!

LINKS: series masterlist | next chapter

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

rafe set a new record for himself tonight, and he wasn’t proud of it. not only did he lose count of the lines he snorted off of topper’s coffee table, he also had ward blowing up his phone. “aye, man, i don’t think you should be driving.” topper slurred, downing the alcohol in his glass. cleaning the residue from his nose, rafe shook him off, stumbling through the crowd of people in the living room before hopping in his truck and peeling out of the packed street.

jaw ticking, rafe cursed to himself when his phone started ringing, ward’s contact lighting up the screen. “i’m going home already, alright? yes— yes, dad! i know we have a meeting with some investors in the morning.. what? no i’m not fuckin’ high!” he rambled on, feigning offense when his father called his bluff. “just stop— i know, okay? i’ll be there in a minute—” before rafe could finish his sentence, he took a sharp turn, swerving onto the curb before hitting a light pole.

you were locking up the icecream parlor when you heard the high pitched squeal of tires against the pavement, a loud crash making you jump from your spot in front of the door. spinning on your heels, your eyes widened when you saw a black truck just feet away from the main street, smoke billowing from under the hood. unsure of what to do, you looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but of course, the strip was always empty at this time of the night.

“son of a bitch!” you heard someone groan before they tumbled out of the front seat, falling face down against the concrete. you gasped, dropping your purse before running across the street. “are you okay?!” you helped the stranger sit up, wincing when you saw blood dripping from his nose. he stared at you wide eyed, his pupils blown as you kneeled in front of him. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” you reassured him, slipping off your cardigan before holding it against his nose. you noticed the open gash on his brow, your heart sinking when you saw his eyes soften. “we really need to get you to the emergency, do you have a phone?” rafe shook his head, leaning back against the tire of his truck. “no. well, yes, i have a phone.. somewhere.. but i can’t go to the emergency, not like this.” just then, rafe felt a sharp pain shoot up to his temple from his neck.

“yes, like this! you’re all scraped up.” you said incredulously. “no, i mean i’m not sober.” as if he was waiting for you to judge him, rafe watched as your expression didn’t falter. “i promise you, going to the emergency and getting help from a professional is a lot more better than not going at all. your truck can always be replaced; you can’t.” your words lit a fire in his chest, the sincerity in your tone making him crack a pained smile.

“i’ll go to jail for this, and i just can’t do that right now. i have to be somewhere in the morning, my dad will kill me if he finds out..” remembering that he was on the phone with ward before he crashed, he scrambled up to find the device, only to groan and plop back down on the street. still holding the pink cardigan to his head, you guided his hand to hold it for you. “what are you looking for? i can try to find it.” rafe let out a shaky breath, mumbling “my phone.” before you got up and spotted it near the tire.

turning it over, you held it up for him to see. it was completely shattered. “i don’t think it’s going to work..” you handed it to him, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “what the fuck?” he breathed out, holding his head in his hands. you’ve never seen someone look so defeated before, your feet moving on their own before you could think. “do you think you can walk? my place is only five minutes away.” rafe looked up like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

“your place?” he repeated, half shocked and half confused as to why you’d offer him help. “yes,” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, “i don’t have a phone there, but i can at least get you cleaned up..” rafe tried to weigh out his options, only to realize he didn’t have any. “are you sure?” he was truly at your mercy. “yes. here— just keep holding this to your head, let me go get my purse and we can be on our way.” you left him with your cardigan, running across the street and grabbing your bag before getting him up.

“i’m a lot stronger than i thought.” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood as you wrapped one of rafe’s arms around your shoulders. “fuck, what about my truck?” rafe leaned his weight on you, nearly making you topple over before you took a step. “someone will find it and call a tow, you could call the towing company tomorrow,” you explained to him, “do you have anything valuable in there?” rafe laughed, shaking his head. “just my piece of shit phone that has no value now.” he grunted, walking with a slight limp.

“hey, uhm, what’s your name?” rafe looked down at you, both of you sharing a glance before he looked away. despite him not being in the right state of mind, there was no doubting how insanely pretty you were. “y/n.. and yours?” why on earth were you getting butterflies right now? “rafe.” was all he replied before he started asking you an abundant amount of questions. rafe learned a lot about you in the short five minute walk to your camper. what you did for a living, where you currently worked for some extra money, what your hobbies consisted of.. along with being a pogue.

“so.. you live all alone in this pink camper in the middle of the woods? aren’t you scared some psycho will come across it and want to know who’s inside?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” rafe watched as you unlocked the small screen door, a chuckle threatening to slip from his throat. “i would laugh if it didn’t feel like i had a thousand needles stabbing me in my brain right now.” he swallowed thickly, accepting the hand you offered him to step in.

he was immediately hit with the smell of freshly baked cake and vanilla frosting. he loved it. “i know it’s really small in here, but you could just take a seat right there on that little couch and i’ll go get my first aid kit.” rafe did as you said, eyes darting around your space. pink florals, white lace trim, usually he’d be irked by this kind of decor, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he didn’t mind it this time. rafe leaned back on the soft sofa, settling into the cushions while you scrambled for the little first aid kit somewhere in your bathroom.

spotting the small box on your little shelf, you grabbed it before making your way back to where rafe was sitting. he opened his eyes momentarily, finding you even more pretty now that darkness didn’t surround you two. he kept his gaze on you, watching as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. “sorry about this..” rafe took the pink cardigan away from his head, the fabric now stained with blood. “oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “you needed it more than i did.”

pressing a damp cloth to his nose, rafe groaned when you applied the slightest bit of pressure. “i’m sorry!” you pouted, taking a seat next to him. rafe reassured you he was alright, a groan leaving his lips as he clutched his stomach. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you lifted his shirt, your eyes widening at the sight. he was scraped and bruised, a small wound adorning his lower abdomen. “here, lets get this off.” you pulled rafe’s t-shirt over his head, both of your cheeks heating at the compromising position.

“we could stop if this is too weird for you—” you shook your head, taking an ice pack out of your freezer. “no, it’s okay.” you pressed the cold bag to his skin, still wiping away the dried blood on his face. “i’m not sure how far you live, but i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk anywhere.” your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound of it soothing rafe more than any kind of medicine he could take right now. “don’t worry about me, i’ll be fine.” rafe watched your fingers dance across his stomach, your nails sparkling underneath the dim lighting of your camper.

you thought for a moment. “i guess what i’m trying to say is; i think you’re better off staying the night here..” you trailed off, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be able to get to a phone in the morning and call whoever you need to. you should just get some rest right now.” rafe was stunned. you wanted him to stay? “i don’t know..” he sounded uneasy, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. “it’s okay, i swear! you could take my bed since there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep on this little thing.”

“no, no way, i’m fine with sleeping on the floor.” you smiled at him, eyes flickering down to his lips. “no, really, it’s okay…?” you trailed off, unsure of what to call him since you didn’t know his name. “rafe.” he answered. “rafe,” he liked the way his name sounded rolling off of your tongue, “i’ve fallen asleep plenty of times over here, i’ll be fine on the couch.” you got up, wringing out the towel you were using to clean him up. “i just have one rule, though,” rafe held the ice pack to his stomach, humming as you grabbed some ointment and a couple of bandages.

“you can only lay in my bed if you’re clean.. and you need a shower.” the corner of rafe’s lips quirked. “if you want to see me naked all you have to do is ask.” you blinked, pushing his chest softly. “that’s not what i meant.” you giggled. “i’ll get you a change of clothes, just get in there for right now.” rafe was already too far in to look back. getting up with your assistance, you guided rafe to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. “there’s clean towels and wash rags on the shelf!” you called from the kitchen, yawning as all of tonight’s events started to catch up with you.

rafe didn’t know what to make of all of this. one minute he was high out of his mind, crashing into a light pole with his dad on the phone, and the next he was inside some gorgeous girl’s camper getting tended to before using a strawberry scented body wash in her shower. what the fuck was his luck? taking his time in the shower, rafe thought about how he’d explain everything to ward tomorrow, from the towed truck to the cuts and bruises.

he wondered if ward would even care.

by the time rafe was done, he was stepping out of the bathroom smelling like a slice of strawberry cake with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he glanced over at the couch, your back facing him as you slept soundlessly. moving aside the pink curtain that concealed the doorway to your room, rafe slipped into the sweatpants you left out for him, settling underneath your silky soft sheets shortly after.

how was it that you just happened to be the only person around when he crashed? how did he crash right in front of where you worked? and why were you being so nice to him? rafe had so many questions and couldn’t think of any logical answers. he didn’t believe in fate, but looking back on it, that seems to be the only explanation. the next day he woke up to his clothes freshly washed and wearable again, your music playing softly in the kitchen. “good morning!” you chirped, your hair and makeup already done for the day.

“hey..” rafe was still shirtless, his eyes following your every move. “what time is it?” he took a seat at the little booth by the wall, his head no longer pounding the way it did last night. “it’s about to be ten. i was debating if whether or not i should’ve woken you up earlier, but you really needed to sleep.” you leaned back against the counter, admiring the handsome man in your camper. “your wallet should also be with your clothes there on that chair,” you started, “..so i was thinking; the little store just right outside of these woods has a pay phone that you can use.”

rafe nodded. “yeah, that sounds good.” he couldn’t think of the last time he woke up without wanting the day to be over with already. “hey, listen— uhm, i owe you a huge one for everything you’ve done for me.. i apologize if it was an inconvenience in any way, but i really do appreciate you.” rafe got up, grabbing his wallet from your room. “here. please take it.” you looked down at the hundred dollar bills tucked between his fingers, shaking your head as you moved his hands away.

“absolutely not.” you laughed. “no, please, take it.” rafe got closer, opening one of your palms before closing it around the bills. “rafe, i don’t want it!” you backed away, “i’m serious.” rafe let out a sigh. he already knew how this would go, so instead of urging you to keep it, he placed the money on your dresser after he was done changing. “well i guess i’ll be leaving now.” you masked the disappointment on your face by offering him a smile. “yeah, i guess so..” without saying a word, you and rafe stared at each other before he wrapped his arms around you, the action giving you butterflies.

before you could say or do anything, he pulled away and left, leaving your camper feeling more emptier than usual. you walked over to the door where you watched him walk away until you couldn’t see him anymore, a pout on your lips as you did so. while you were sure that you would more than likely never see him again, you couldn’t be more wrong. that day was the first of approximately one hundred and twenty one days, and counting, that you two would spend together. rafe came back to you the next day with a brand new pink cardigan to replace the other one you so selflessly let him ruin.

one icecream date turned into several, which then progressed into him coming over to your place with an overnight bag, his very own toothbrush now taking a spot next to yours. which then led to him picking you up and dropping you off at work, and so on until he finally said that you were his. you two spent the entire summer underneath the trees, rolling around in the grass as you two gasped each other’s names into your mouths, sharing sweet kisses and an even sweeter love that continued to grow with no intentions of ever stopping.

rafe had gotten sober out of fear that he wouldn’t remember what a love like this felt like if he was high all the time, and without judgement, you were there with him every step of the way. you stayed by his side when he felt like all hope was lost, and for that he could never thank you enough. although ward wondered where rafe would go off to, he didn’t bring himself to care as long as he was doing what he needed to do for the family business. with his dad off of his back, and you to come ‘home’ to everyday, he could say that he was truly happy.

even now as you two sat in your favorite diner, sharing a milkshake and laughing at whatever the other was saying, you felt no worries when you and rafe were together, your heart threatening to burst at the seams everytime you looked at him. everything was perfect.. at least for now. all good things must come to an end, and when you two are threatened by none other than ward himself, the love bubble you two have been mindlessly floating in is suddenly popped.

taglist: @percysley @oceandriveab @archiveofvirtue @weirdowithnobeardo @mattyskies @ankoluvly @cnnamongrl @b3bybunny @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @lovinqbella @jeonmochi99-blog @corpsebridenightamare @whorelaud @mymvlody @idontknowwhyimhere33 @ursovaine

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[neostellarjpg]

inner mono-dialogue

the more time i spend being davepeta with you the more i realize almost every single problem in my life was caused by my obsession with being this unfeeling cool dude

but youre cool already

like in the way that actually matters

youre chill and friendly and just nice and thats all there is to it

youre shamelessly yourself even if everybody around you is a jackass and gives you shit for it

youre similar to jade and john in that way

i really envied that about them

but its different actually being at the control panel and feeling where that earnesty comes from

it makes me wanna match your energy and keep that pawsitivity ball rolling even if it ends up being weird or cringe or whatever

fuck man do you know how exhausting it is building yourself social hoops to leap through all the time and when you trip up even once its suddenly the end of the world

what kinda dumbass does that its like dealing with life in hard mode for no reward

fuck that noise

i like your way better

Nepeta's heart burns and shines inside you.

:33 < thank you :))

:33 < but you know

:33 < i dont think doing things your way is unrewarding

:33 < its like

:33 < a shield!

Dave scrunches up with discomfort.

X33 < i dont mean that in an insulting way!

:33 < the fact is that shields are just purractical sometimes

:33 < it doesnt make you cowardly to hide behind one

:33 < in the same way that it isnt cowardly for a predator to hide in the bushes when stalking prey

:33 < its just a way to make sure you dont get hurt!

:33 < purrsonally i found shields too cumbersome

X33 < im a hunter after all!

:33 < and i guess maybe the same goes for my personality

:33 < its not really that im purrticularly brave for being myself

:33 < i just didnt have a say in the matter in the furst place!

:33 < honestly if i had a choice i would have loved to be more like you dave

:33 < you can befriend people almost effortlessly

:33 < and its beclaws youre also just a nice person

Dave recoils in surprise, but Nepeta passionately pushes forward.

:33 < fur real! i f33l it inside you! theres a really strong sense of empathy there

:33 < its just like mine! just smarter, and a bit more analytical

:33 < whenever we encounter someone mew, its like i f33l you lock onto them, and you gather so many insights into their purrsonality without even trying

:33 < and you can use that to bond with others without giving every part of you away

:33 < which unfortunately

:(( < i never really knew how to do

Nepeta sours with unpleasant feelings. Your brows scrunch together with both pain and sympathy.

Nepeta has a big and complex heart. She tried her best to keep it from spilling over, but it always did in the end. And it was embarrassing. It was embarrassing when your friends dismissed your hobbies or focused in on your strange quirks. It was embarrassing when they revealed they knew about your crush on Karkat that you'd worked so hard to hide. And it hurt whenever he would say mean things about you. He and anyone else.

But you always puffed out your chest and sucked it up. You stuck to your guns no matter what. Because it was fun! The things you liked, the people you liked, were fun, and they made you feel good. Why couldn't anyone else see that? And why did it seem like they never gave a single thought to who you were?

You curl in on yourself. Your chest hurts. You suddenly really miss Equius.

And you miss Rose. You miss Jade. You miss John and Karkat and Aradia and Tavros and Terezi and all the others. You miss all the people you can go outside and see whenever you wish, and you miss all the people that you have no hope of ever seeing again. You feel the choral echo of all the times you've ever felt this need for comfort, this thrumming pain searing hot inside you, like hunger wracking your stomach.

You clench your teeth. You remember being on your bed, curled in blankets, not having eaten a proper meal in days. You remember holding your stomach and sneaking to the kitchen, turning your shoulder at every step to look fearfully behind you, only for your fingers to falter hopelessly on the handle of the refrigerator, knowing there was nothing for you inside.

You shake with anger. You know that feeling. The feeling of being chased by something much bigger than you, a hulking silhouette of menacing strength following your scent through the thicket. You'd clutched a beast carcass to your chest, barely breathing as you stalked clumsily through the trees, performance wavering from exhaustion and hunger.

You'd almost died. You'd almost died often. And then after escaping death so many times, it one day claimed you. Casually. Unflinchingly. And the world beat on without you, leaving you stunned by your own insignificance. You'd looked out onto every preceding moment of your life, wondering if there was anything to truly be proud of in the face of your friends accomplishing all these fantastical things. You'd felt lonely before, but after that, you were truly walled off from every single person you knew.

And now, despite everything, you're alive again. Twofold, together with someone.

A warmth coats the ache inside your body. The two parts of you swirl together, feeling and tasting each other, trying to understand themselves.

It feels like a hug.

[dvchvnde]

Carmacks, Yukon. 1995.

"You shouldn't have come here," he growls, hand tightening around your throat.

The force pushes you hard against the wall of the bar, and as you fall, he follows. Leveraging the thick spread of his body to smother your smaller frame. With him boxing you in, there's nowhere to go. No escape—

"You should have run—"

He shakes you when he finishes, knocking your head into the wall as he glares down at you, lip curled into a snarl beneath the beard. Anger is writ over ever dip, every line, every pore of his body. He seems to thrum with it. Muted trembles. Little quakes. Grinds his teeth together because he knows despite the carnage you inspired inside of him, you just don't get it.

The danger you're in.

All you can do is gasp at the blunt, tight spill of pain bubbling under the dig of his fingers into delicate flesh. Blink through the haze clotting around, black fingerprints smeared on the edges of your vision. Hypoxia, you think. And then: oh, old friend. We did it again.

But it offers no comfort, no succor. It just burns. Oh, god, it burns—

Your body aches down to your marrow. Fire in your veins, burning you up from the inside out. Agony like you've never felt before. Could have never imagined—

But through it all, the sutures hewn inside your soul thrum. The fire is liquid. Molten. It settles in the pit of your belly when he kicks his boot between your ankles, knee bending to rest on the faded oak wall behind you. Holding you down as you heave, and gasp, and whimper around the tight cinch of his hand swallowing your throat up in his palm—

His head turns sharply towards you. Fingers spasming once. Twice. It loosens. Grows lax. You gag on the air you gulp you gulp down too fast, watching him with watery, blurring eyes as every muscle in his body snaps.

His shoulder tense. Drawing into a tight line. Nostrils flaring. Fluttering. His broad chest expands, and—

A rumble. A low groan.

It doesn't make sense. You don't understand it. But his thigh slides up, denim clad leg pressing tight to your core—

It hits you when his lashes flutter. When his eyes roll as he breathes in deep again, and again.

He can smell it, you think. The stickiness between your thighs. Arousal dripping into the gusset of your panties as he heaves above you. So close. Too close. You can't think with him this near—can only feel. And feel you do—

"John—" it's desperate. Raw. He shudders. Blinks his eyes open, stained, wet lichen rimmed and lined red. Desire thickens in those cesium depths, frothing over until his iris is drenched black. "I don't know what's going on—"

"Don't you, sweetheart?"

You've never heard him sound like that before. So low, it dredged the bottom of his chest. Scraping charred sediment and gravel into a loose fist. Felled timber thrown over a fire. The snap, snap, crack of sap burning in the kindling. A hoarse roar.

The heat of it melts you. Liquified. He keeps you up with his hand around your neck. Sat on the thick of his thigh like a child. Wax in hands. You can't move. Can't think—

"I'll tell you," he rumbles, his hand slipping between your bodies to snatch your wrists up in his fist. He brings them up above your head, pushing them into the wall. The hand around your neck tightens again. "But only once. So pay attention, love."

Your head spins. Mind melts. It's a slurry—soporific, molasses-thick. You can't think around this ache inside of you. This tug. This thing that brought you here. To him. Thoughts scattered. Rusting by too quick.

But when he moves, every molecule in your body snaps to attention. Freezing in a tight, tense line.

You catch the quirk of his mouth when he closes in, reshaping around the ghost of his snarl. He likes your submission. You don't know why you know this. You just do.

(just like you know you'll roll on your belly if it pleases him—

no. no. you wouldn't. stop stop stop—)

The unnatural warmth of his nose bleeding into your skin before it even kisses the appled ridge of your cheek. He breathes in the sweat-slicked scent of your syrupy skin. Another groan. You feel this one deep in your bones.

He slides his nose down your cheek until his mouth is pressed against your jaw. The touch is brief, but all you feel is heat. Burning you up, burning you—

"m'gonna eat you alive, Bambi."

SYNOPSIS: fated mates. Yukon in the 90s. John Price may or may not be a man. you're an inexperienced wildlife biologist sent to the Yukon to explain a series of strange animal attacks that have plagued the small community. it all changes when you meet a local hunter named John Price. a man everyone seems to warn you away from, and one who seems to want nothing at all to do with you at all. you're keen to do just that, but something keeps pulling you closer.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Shadow

Mingyu has a little fight with you.

Requested? Yes!

Word count: 1.2k

Genre: Angst, with a tiny bit of comfort and fluff

Mingyu watches you slam the car door behind you as you exit and he grits his teeth. You’re mad at him. Which is totally unfair because he should be mad at you.

And he is, so he doesn’t wait long before jumping out of the car and following you into the apartment building and into the elevator. He grinds his teeth a little more when you almost let the elevator door close before he can enter.

At the apartment door, you slam your key into the lock and twist violently. The door flings open and you both begin roughly putting away shoes and coats in tense silence.

You go to the kitchen and get a glass of water, and he sits down at the dining room table facing you, tugging at his tie to loosen it. “So that’s it?” He bites. “The silent treatment?”

You narrow your eyes at him over the edge of the glass. “You want me to say something? Right now?”

It’s spoken like a dare. A challenge of ‘you couldn’t handle what I want to say’. You should know better than to issue such a statement because the grinding in Mingyu’s jaw is becoming downright painful. “When have you ever not had something to say? So you might as well say it,” he insists, palm slapping onto the table.

You give him a long, harsh glare, before setting the glass down to cross your arms across your chest. You’re still dressed up, with your dress tight and plunging at the neckline. He’s so mad that he’s not that distracted by it, even though you looking like that is the whole reason you two are mad at each other now.

“You’re an ass,” you start. He rolls his eyes because you’ve called him that a thousand times. He waits for you to get to the good stuff. “You got temperamental and got us kicked out of our favorite club.”

“With good reason,” Mingyu rages, sitting up in his seat. “He was all over you. And you were letting him!”

“And that was reason enough to get in his face like that?” You counter hotly. “That was embarrassing, Mingyu. It’s a good thing we’ve been banned because I never want to show my face there again.”

“And it’s embarrassing to me for you to entertain anyone else like that,” Mingyu bites back, jumping from his seat. “He was touching you, whispering into your ear, asking you to go home with him, and you stood there and played coy and let him.”

“Mingyu, do you think he would have listened if I asked him to back off? Truly, think about it for a second,” you seethe. “I was trying to play it safe until you got back from the bathroom!”

“Then you make him back off. You don’t make me make him back off and then get mad at me for it,” Mingyu raises his voice, fueled by the fiery look you’re giving him.

“Nothing you did was discreet! You were practically lifting him by the collar. Where is the subtle ‘hey, babe. Who’s this?’ to get him to back off without violence?” He’s even more irritated at how you drop your tone to mimic him.

“I’m not going to be discreet when he’s touching you,” Mingyu snaps. “And you stood there and let him.”

“I told you, it was to be safe!” You cry out, angry tears pricking your eyes. “I knew you were coming back, I was waiting for you to come help me get away from him. And you did that tenfold.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, heading toward the door again. “I can’t do this with you right now. I’m going to Wonwoo’s. Don’t wait up.”

You watch him shove his feet in his shoes again, slamming the door behind him.

~

It’s hours before Mingyu comes back. The apartment is dark and quiet, and he can still feel the tension hanging in the air from earlier. But now, the tension doesn’t make him angry. It makes him feel guilty.

Wonwoo had listened to a few of the bullet points of the fight and had interrupted to tell Mingyu he was in the wrong. He trusted Wonwoo, so when he opened his mouth to argue, something about Wonwoo’s look told him to shut up and listen. And he had, while Wonwoo set him straight on a few things.

He comes into the bedroom and can tell you’re still awake, even though your back is to him. He changes clothes and hangs by the foot of the bed for a few long seconds. “Can I stay in here or do you want me to go to the couch?” He asks weakly.

In the darkness, he can see your shoulders tense, before finally saying, “you can stay.” Your voice cracks roughly, a tell-tale sign that you’ve cried since he left. It tugs at his heart stings, but he climbs under the covers before you can change your mind. He lays on his side, staring at your back, eventually reaching out. Touch is a love language for both of you, but he still does it hesitantly just in case, hand gently landing on your arm, thumb rubbing your skin softly. “I’m sorry.” He hopes you hear how much be means it, but he’s still sad when you tense under his hand.

“For what?” You sniffle.

Mingyu sighs softly. “For losing my temper. For getting us kicked out. And for getting mad at you when you were really just concerned for your safety. I shouldn't have left you alone in the first place.”

You let a few long seconds tick by before you finally roll over. He can see more evidence of your crying in your red eyes. He reaches out to swipe a thumb underneath one. It’s dry now. A small reprieve.

“Do you trust me?”

Your question makes his eyes flare. “Of course, I do,” he says passionately. “I trust you more than anyone else.”

Your eyes are a little guarded. “And you know I’m yours, right? Just like I hope you’re mine?”

Mingyu nods enthusiastically, because possessive as it sounds, he wants to be yours and he wants you to be his. “Of course. That’s all that I want.”

“Then know I’m yours and protect me from creeps in a club,” you say simply. “I didn't want him to be near me at all, but I was nervous and just waiting for you to come back. Then you were nearly in a fistfight as soon as you found me.”

Mingyu frowns. “Yeah, maybe not my finest moment.”

This makes you giggle and the sound is so soothing that it makes him a little emotional. “Maybe not,” you agree. He scoots closer to you, arms folding around you while he buries his face into your neck. It becomes less of him holding you and more like you holding him and it makes you giggle again. “My big, tough, scary boyfriend is actually the biggest baby,” you mumble, running a hand through his hair.

It makes him giggle a little too. “Only for you.”

[honeyedclementine]

you're so lonely, i can fix that

pitfighter!vi x f!reader, smut, stone top!vi mentions of caitvi, act 1-2 spoilers usage of 'good girl' ( one shot, 1.1k words) ageless blogs, minors, and men dni

reply to be added to my tag list ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

vi had almost certainly been your favorite addition to the roster of fighters in this dim arena sat in the lowest pits of the undercity. you were a regular viewer of the fights, you had seen plenty of people come and go. you watched the strongest fighters get cleaned off the floor in bloody heaps. but none of them came even close to her.

you were more than just a viewer, of course, you had your connections that brought you a bit closer to the fighters than most. not that you needed those connections to get close to vi. a few weeks into her stint in the pits, you ran into her at the club, watching her drink herself to death. you wondered how someone like her would end up down here, so down in the dumps. you didn't let her reach the end of the bottle before you offered your... comfort.

there was nothing to it, of course, just blowing off steam after fights and what not, but by gods was it some of the best sex you'd ever had in your life. you thought it was only going to happen that one time, of course, but then she caught your eye after a fight, blood dripping from her nose, and next thing you knew you were back at her apartment again.

now, you linger in the doorway, arms crossed as you watch her submerge her bloodied knuckles in ice water, wraps still on. you both know why you're here, but you find yourself making conversation anyway.

"what do you fight for?" you ask, your voice a low drawl. you wait there in the doorway, waiting for her permission. you watch her back heave as she catches her breath, the dark ink of her tattoo disappearing behind the binding around her chest. you ache to see all of it, to dig your fingernails into the ink.

"to forget," vi says with a huff, turning to face you over her shoulder. "you should know everyone this far down is running from something."

she nods slightly and you step into the room, letting the door slam shut behind you with a resounding thud. "or someone?"

vi turns back around. you approach slowly as if creeping towards a caged animal, hand extended before landing softly on her shoulder. you kneel down behind her, pressing your lips to her shoulder and then her neck, whispering, "you're so lonely, i can fix that."

this is all it takes for her to turn to you, a firm hand splaying across your neck and collarbone, her lips, teeth, and tongue attacking the flesh of your neck. the two of you don't kiss—you honestly prefer it this way. you'd rather be a warm body to her than have her pretending you're someone else.

you kneel on the floor, pressed up against the bench she had been sitting on—the old wood digging into your back as she kisses down your neck and chest, nearing the neckline of your low-cut top.

"fuck, vi," you whimper as her teeth sink into the crook of your neck, a sharp hiss of pain falling from your lips. your hands tangle in the nape of that black hair—every time you do this, your fingers come away smeared with whatever paint or grease she uses for this, but you never mind bearing the mark of her.

the two of you never get very undressed as she goes for your belt, shoving you further down against the hard floor with a hand behind your head to make sure you don't make too harsh of a contact. your nails dig harshly into her back, leaving faint red scratches all along the black ink. she moans against your neck at the pain, her hand dipping into your pants and immediately going for the slick wetness between your legs.

you let out a terse moan as she explores your folds, feeling the roughness of her calloused fingers against you. she only teases your clit for a moment before two fingers dip into your entrance, pushing into you with little warning. your teeth sink into your lip so hard you taste blood, hips arching to her touch as you run your hands along her tattooed back and biceps, feeling the muscles flex as she fucks into you with little mercy.

you never mind the roughness of her, in fact, it only turns you on more. your hands claw at her and she moans at the pain, a noise that coils low in the pit of your stomach as her fingers pump in and out, spreading outside of you as her blunt nails scrape at your inner walls, hitting every spot that drives you absolutely crazy. she sits between your legs, one thigh pressing up against your aching center as she fucks you, only creating more pressure.

"gods," you moan, the word sounding wrecked and broken as it falls from your lips.

"good, good girl," she moans against your neck, adding a third finger on her next inward press. "you take me so well."

the words go straight to your cunt, a wretched moan tearing itself from your throat as you relish in the pleasant burn of the stretch. you already know you're not going to last long, not with her fucking you like this. you can feel her rage, her guilt, her shame. you take it all, content to keep her warm while she waits for someone else.

she hovers above you, dangerously close to your lips as she watches you come beneath her fingers, your orgasm ricocheting around your body like a stray bullet. you clench around her fingers, desperate for her to keep fucking you even as you spill over her palm and down her wrist.

when she pulls out of you, vi brings her fingers to her lips, her tongue starting at her wrist and following the dripping lines of your slick before she takes her own bloodied and split fingers into her mouth, licking them clean. you bite your lip at the sight, head falling back against the concrete floor. absentmindedly, your hands come to your belt, tugging everything back into place. she doesn't ask you to touch her and you don't offer—you learned fairly early on that she won't let you.

"fuck," you breathe out, catching your breath as she stands. you push yourself back up onto your elbows, looking up to see vi offering you a hand. you take it and let her help you up, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet. "whoever broke your heart made a serious—"

"don't," vi shakes her head, sounding defeated. she sits back down on the bench, but you remain standing, just staring down at her. she looks up at you softly and you can see the sadness that resides in those eyes. "see you after tomorrow's fight?"

you offer a half-hearted smile, taking the invitation for what it is. "always."

tag list: @puppyels @njm63522 @fict1onallyobsessed

[bandsofmarv]

Cold to the touch

Enemies to lovers Bucky x reader

TW - smut, angst

The compound was unusually quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. You sat at the kitchen counter, nursing a mug of tea, hoping the caffeine would get you through another tense morning.

It wasn’t the missions, the training, or even the threat of constant danger that drained you. No, it was him.

Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Resident pain in your ass.

You had been forced to work together on Steve’s orders, a new partnership meant to “strengthen the team dynamic.” Instead, it had only strengthened your resolve to avoid him at all costs. Bucky was cold, distant, and maddeningly closed off. And worse, he seemed to go out of his way to make your life hell.“Up early, huh?” His voice, low and gravelly, startled you out of your thoughts. Speak of the devil.

You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. He looked as stoic as ever, but there was a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I could say the same to you,” you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He shrugged, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until he broke it.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t a question.

You blinked at him, surprised by his directness. “Not everything is about you, Barnes.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure this is,” he said, turning to face you fully. His gaze was sharp, assessing, like he was trying to read your mind. “What’s your problem with me, anyway?”

“My problem?” You laughed bitterly, setting your mug down with a clink. “You’re arrogant, impossible to talk to, and you act like the whole world owes you something.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, the faintest crack in his icy exterior. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back. “You don’t let anyone in. You’re like a damn wall.”

He took a step closer, his steel-blue eyes burning into yours. “Maybe I don’t let people in because I know how it ends. People like you—they don’t stick around when things get messy.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, cutting through your anger like a blade. For a moment, you saw the man beneath the armor, the one haunted by a past he couldn’t escape.

“That’s not fair,” you said softly, your tone losing its edge. “You don’t get to push people away and then blame them for not trying.”

Bucky stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his metal hand bracing on the counter beside you.

“Why do you care, anyway?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why not just walk away?”

Your breath hitched as his proximity sent a shiver down your spine. His scent, a mix of leather and something distinctly him, filled your senses, making it impossible to think straight.

“Maybe I’m just stubborn,” you said, your voice shaking slightly.

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Stubborn enough to take a chance on someone like me?”

You didn’t have time to answer. Bucky’s lips crashed against yours, desperate and unrelenting, like he’d been holding himself back for far too long. You gasped against his mouth, your hands flying to his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

He made the decision for you. His flesh hand slid to your waist, tugging you against him as his metal fingers traced up your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His kiss was messy, full of teeth and hunger, but it was exactly what you needed.

“Bucky,” you breathed when his lips left yours to trail down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin. “If you want me to, tell me now.” But you didn’t. Instead, you pulled him closer, threading your fingers through his hair as his hands roamed, exploring every inch of you like he was memorizing it.

“Hard to love, huh?” you murmured, your voice teasing despite the breathlessness.

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark with desire. “You have no idea.”

And then he kissed you again, and for the first time, you thought maybe you were willing to find out.

[nochedie]

intertwined, sewn together

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 1k ish

summary: just some late night talking

a/n: hehe… um 😳 i actually haven’t written anything for 7 YEARS! and i haven’t ever written for spn before! so please be gentle with me 🙏 i am working on a soulless sam fic but it’s becoming pretty long soo i decided to just do a little fluffy drabble in the meantime! i have a migraine so im sorry if it makes little to no sense :) i read through a couple times and i cant tell if its bad or if i just hate my own writing (definitely the last one but it might be both 😌☝🏼) anyways i love sam and i needed some fluff! much love and please enjoy 🫶🏼

“do you ever think about… the future? for us?” you and sam were laying next to each other in the motel room double bed, alone in the room. dean was out at the nearest bar, and told you both not to wait up. you always cherished the alone time with sam.

he turned to face you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “all the time.”

“and what do you think about?” you took in each and every inch of his face, the sculpt of his jaw, his eyes which held a look of admiration as they looked into yours.

“i think about… one day being able to just… live. you know? me and you. forever.” his voice held some sadness. and you knew exactly why. you could think about this all you wanted, but the life you led… it could never be normal. sam had tried before, he had tried to be normal, tried to live a normal life. but everything fell apart. you knew he still felt that pain. he wanted so badly to be normal. but he was a winchester.

“maybe we can’t live some suburban life. but we don’t need that to live, sam… sure, our job is dangerous but… well we’re still here, aren’t we? we’ve made it this long.”

“y/n…” you reached out to touch his cheek, and his eyes closed at the feeling, completely relaxing into your touch. “i just… every single day i wake up and worry that something is going to happen to you.”

“hmm… it almost sounds like you don’t think i can fend for myself. you know i can beat a vampire with my bare hands!” you definitely could not.

sam’s laughter filled the room almost immediately, “oh, suddenly you have super strength?”

“you don’t know what i have.” you feigned offence, pulling out of his grasp and turning your body away from him.

“um… what do you think you’re doing?” he spoke between chuckles, slipping his arms around your torso, pulling you flush against him. “let me see your pretty face, love.”

“only if you admit that i have fists of steel and i could absolutely kill a vampire with no weapon.” sam had killed gordon with nothing more than a bit of wire, so this wasn’t the most unrealistic claim.

“right. you’re right, honey. vampires watch out! y/n’s coming! with… maybe chicken wire?”

“you’re mean.”

he practically erupted into laughter, more of an endearing laughter than anything else. he gave you a tight squeeze from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“turn around please, honey. i promise i’ll stop.”

you heeded his request, turning in his embrace so that your faces were but centimetres apart.

“there you are.” he took a deep breath in as he studied every inch of your face, taking in each small detail, each feature which made up the face he loved so much.

you slid one arm around his torso and rest the other on his chest, shuffling as close as you could and letting your eyes close.

“you getting tired?” sam reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving only a sliver of light in the room from the outside street lights.

“just a little. but let’s keep talking, okay?”

“alright, love. what do you want to talk about?” he shifted onto his back and put his arm around you, leading your head to rest against his shoulder, while one arm kept resting on his chest.

“chicken wire.” you stifled a laugh.

sam looked up at the ceiling, a wide smile plastered on his lips. these were his favorite moments with you, and he adored how you could immediately switch his mood.

this hunt in particular had been tough, but it was over now, and this was your last night in the motel before heading to sioux falls in the morning to meet with bobby. the hunt forced sam into some uncomfortable thoughts. you had come far too close to danger, and it sent him into a spiral worrying about you. he hadn’t even thought about what he would do if he lost you, but it felt like he had been hit head on by the thought. he really couldn’t live without you, he knew that for a fact. tonight, he was really feeling it. all he wanted to do was hold you close and never let go. but this conversation with you, your optimism and your smile, just you, allowed sam to feel a genuine content.

“i love you.” he whispered, planting a kiss on top of your head.

you hadn’t realised how tired you were, and you had already drifted to sleep. after a few minutes, sam did the same.

****

you opened your eyes to see sam looking back at you, already awake. “good morning, love.”

“good morning.” you stretched your limbs, sitting up in the bed before looking around the room. “dean didn’t come back last night?”

“he did, he went out to pack up the car. you slept in pretty late.”

“hmm.. well we better get ready and hit the road, then?”

“or… we could cuddle for a bit.” he tugged on your arm, attempting to coax you to lay back.

“sammy.. you just said i slept in pretty late.”

“and did i say that was a bad thing?” cue two more arm tugs.

just as you were about to lay back down and into sam’s arms, you heard a few knocks, followed by dean’s voice through the door. “cars packed up, you kids have got fifteen minutes or i’m leaving you behind!”

“i guess no cuddling today.” sam has to suppress a whine as he reluctantly gets out of bed.

“do you think we have time for a shower?”

“oh, definitely.” you jump out of bed and grab sam’s outstretched hand, following him into the bathroom.

[lucidbee]

Love Is A Science | Percy Jackson x Reader

Summary: You and Percy have always been best friends you just needed a little push for you to become more.

Word Count: 1.1k

Author Note: Did I write this in the car to eat dry turkey and complain to my family about what tariffs mean, yes. Did I get car sick from writing this also, yes. Not proofread. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Feel free to leave any requests. 

—---—---—‐--—---—---—---—---—---

You and Percy had been friends ever since he came to Camp Half-Blood. You both were always next to each other; if you weren’t, you were talking about them somehow. Every camper could see that both of you were meant to be together. The teasing and questioning were endless. The Aphrodite cabin had a blast creating different scenarios and challenging each other on who could get you two together first. For years the both of you had been denying any claims that you were anything more than friends. Both of you believing that you were just really good friends, companions in battle. 

But after the battle in Manhattan, things started to change, both of you becoming more aware of each other's presence, not wanting to be more than an arm's reach away from each other at all times. Something deeper had started to grow after all these years, something unspoken.

That's where you find yourself, both silently staring into the fire crackling on the beach. You’re wrapped in Percy’s arms, your back pressed against his chest. Before the battle, if anyone had asked, it would have been simply cuddling nothing more, than just a way for two friends to stay warm. However, now if you were asked the same question, you weren’t sure what you would say. It was different now, you didn’t just want to be around Percy anymore, you needed to be around him. You needed to know that he was safe, that you weren’t going to lose him. The possibility of losing Percy opened up feelings you had no idea you had for the son of Posideon. 

You wanted to kiss him, to be held by him, for him to fight every battle with coming home to you as his only goal. You were hopelessly and undoubtedly in love with Percy Jackson. The only trouble was that you had no idea how to bring the topic up to him. You had spent years denying the claims that you were lovers, was it possible for him to have the same change of heart as you? 

The fire crackled loudly filling any awkward silence. You knew you only had so much time to confess your feelings before curfew, if you didn’t do it today you knew you would talk yourself out of it every day to come. 

“Percy?” You call out not taking your eyes off of the flames.

Percy, who is usually quick with his words, had been unusually quiet this whole time. Usually, he would be humming a song, or bouncing his knee to create any sort of noise. Today he looked completely lost in his thoughts. 

“Percy?”

“A daughter of Aphrodite asked me out today,” Percy said looking down to look at you.

Shocked was the only way you could describe what you felt right now. Your heart started to race and your head started to spin, were you too late?

“W-what did you say?” 

Percy sighed before saying “I told her I would think about it.”

More dread filled your body. “Do you like her?”

“Well no, but there is no harm in just one date right?”

Your head was still spinning but your heartbeat started to slow back down, you still had time. 

“Do you like anyone?” You asked.

“There is this one girl, but I don't think she is interested.”

Your heart broke at that moment, you had waited too long. You could have had him years ago but now that you are about to lose him you have never wanted him more. Pain fills your body, and you find it more difficult to breathe. 

“She would be dumb not to be interested in you, Percy.” You say tears filling your eyes.

“Y/n are you okay, did I do something?”

“No, it's what I did,” You say tears strolling down your face.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t tell you how much I love you and now it’s too late.” 

You stand up wiping your tears, needing to separate yourself from Percy. Percy soon follows but keeps his distance.

“Y/n?”

“I should have told you so much sooner, but we both needed time to heal after the battle and I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way,” You ramble off walking back and forth.

“Y/N,” Percy yells.

Your head swings to look at him, tears still streaming down your face. Percy steps closer taking your hands in his. Both of you keep eye contact the whole time as he allows you time to calm down.

“I love you too”

“You what?”

“The girl I was talking about was you, I love you.” 

“This isn’t funny seafoam, you can’t joke about this, I’m barely holding myself together right now.”

“I’m not joking, in Manhattan, all I could keep thinking about was that I was terrified I was going to die before being able to kiss you.”

For what felt like an eternity you were finally able to breathe. The pain washed away into a feeling of overwhelming joy.

“Kiss me,” You say.

“What?”

“Kiss me, do you not want to anymore?”

“NO,” Percy yells.

Percy quickly takes you into his arms and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes quickly shut, wrapping your arms around Percy’s neck. It was everything you imagined and more, you could have stayed in the position for hours. That was until the sound of a horn being blown in the distance alerting you both that curfew was in a few minutes. 

“I don’t want to let you go,” Percy said nuzzling himself into your neck.

“Then don’t.

Percy looks at you in a confused way, when you finally explain it to him. 

“You’re all alone in your cabin, sneak me in.”

“You are brilliant,” Percy says giving you a light peck.

Percy quickly put out the fire that was still burning beside you, before taking your hand and rushing off of the beach and into cabin number three. You both leave grinning and completely absorbed in each other. Completely not noticing the daughter of Aphrodite and Athena hiding behind the bushes.

“Told you all they needed was a little push to figure out what they were missing out on,” Annabeth said.

“You are a genius and about to be the richest person in camp, we’ve been betting on them for the last four years,” Drew says walking back towards the Aphrodite cabin.

“What can I say love is a science, after all, let me know if you need any lessons.”

“Don’t push it, brainiac.”

[sisterofsomeone]

Until Death Do Us Part

Chapter 2/10

Chapter 1

Summary: On your wedding day your marriage is sealed with a sanctified bond. A powerful magic that allows your minds to meld and cannot ever be undone. It is also required to share your darkest secret for the bond to be bestowed. While committing to this bond with your new husband, your secrets are shared. Yours is mostly harmless, that you find his brother Seokmin very attractive. His is… less so.

Series Warnings: Wonwoo x fem!reader, slight Seokmin x fem!reader, established relationship, angst, swearing, drinking, smoking, smut MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, pet names (baby girl, pretty girl, princess), oral sex (male and female receiving), breeding kink, slight daddy kink, size kink, reader has a vagina that gets described as a pussy/cunt, slight dub-con for a second then clear consent,

Chapter warnings: Swearing, this one is pretty tame ngl

Word count: 5.7K

Author's note: Hello again, long time no see! I've been sitting on this series for over a year now and have just been itching to get some more of it out, so here's chapter 2! I'd love to hear what you guys think <3

This is a work of fiction and in no way is meant to represent the actions, ideals, or attitude of the idol Jeon Wonwoo.

The crowd swarmed the floor as Wonwoo and Seokmin returned to their seats above the festivities. You were swept up again by the maddening masses of men trying to sell their sons to you. Your father had never seemed so happy. Your mother and sisters relished the attention, their dance cards filling quicker than usual. You tried to pull a smile across your features but with every new name to remember and face to learn it was getting difficult. You felt a deepening sadness and a gripping in your chest as if you’d lost something.

“Father, I need to be excused for some fresh air.” He nodded, gesturing to the castle guards to follow you as the crowd of fathers parted for you.

“Would you like me to escort you miss?” One of the men offered, a tall younger man - Vernon if you remembered his name correctly.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay boy.” Your father's large hand settled on his shoulder. “But why don’t we discuss your newly acquired title hm? I am so sorry to hear of your father’s passing.” A smile was spread across Father’s face as the younger man nodded eagerly.

A guard stepped away from his post as you ventured to the outskirts of the room and towards one of the many pairs of side doors.

“Miss.” He nodded towards you, eyes dull. “The balconies are this way if you would like some air.”

“You don’t need to follow me any further, thank you for showing me the way.” He didn’t react to that, other than a small sigh escaping him. Under the moon's light, his skin seemed duller and sunken, the dark bags under his eyes were stark against his pale eyes. The nameless guard stood watch at the balcony doors as you stepped outside. The sun had set while you were inside, the air now cold and harsh against your skin. You felt the raw sting of the wind, regret settling into your bones as the idea of heading back inside ran through your mind. But the moon looked so pretty.

“Selûne?” The night stayed silent. “Moonmother?” The pain was back in your chest, that awful grip on your lungs that froze you from the inside. “Moonmother, are you not there?”

“Trouble getting through to your deity?” The man was tall, taller than any other you’d spoken to that night. He swirled this tall glass in his hand, the liquid a warm brown as he eyed your form, drinking you in as the glass remained untouched.

“Who are you? How’d you-?” His smile showed sharp canines, white and shining in the cold moonlight.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how easy it is to convince people to let you go wherever you want when you’re the Royal Guard.” His smile was brazen; the confidence oozed off of this strange man in almost palpable waves. “Well. At least when they think you’re the Royal Guard.” He took a long sip of his drink without his eyes leaving yours. The shot of fear that rushed up your spine was almost primal, the innate fear of that predatory gaze still lingering in your bones. Your legs trembled beneath your dress, eyes not daring to leave his for fear of missing him move. You watched him intently, his long dark hair curled slightly at his ears. To most, you assumed this man would be called beautiful; you dare say if you met him on the street, he might steal your breath away. But right now, there was no beauty in those features, just a sense that if you broke the surface of this gentlemanly façade, a torrent of anguish would wash over you. The power behind those brown eyes, the calculated cunning, the slight tensing of the muscles under his dress shirt. He was a predator ready to pounce.

“You don’t have to look so terrified. I’m not here to hurt you.” He said after downing the rest of his drink. “Just here to give you some…” That awful smile accompanied his pause, bearing the full set of perfectly sharp white teeth he had. “Let us call it friendly advice.” He stepped closer, now only a few feet from you. “Marry Wonwoo. Do whatever it takes to marry that man. I already know you’re fucking him, so it shouldn’t be too hard.” His eyes lit up at the blush blooming across your skin. “If you don’t.” He shook his head. The sigh that left him felt too fake, performative. “A lot of people will be very disappointed.”

“Why?” The word was so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Why? Oh, darling, don’t worry your little head with the why. Just do as I say, and everyone will be fine.” His glass was empty now, the condensation gathered upon his fingertips as he leant his elbow on the balcony rails beside him. His hair fell slightly in front of his face, but he didn’t make a move to fix it; he just continued staring.

“I’ve got a lot riding on you, you know.” The glass was falling towards the ground below you both before you knew it. The glass smashed into a million tiny shards on the gravel path below, and as you tore your gaze away from the stranger to look, you felt a heat like nothing before lick at your wrist. Yelping, your instinct was to force your body away from this heat and push yourself further into the wall behind you. But as you did, as you felt the cold stones digging into your back, as you began to try to make sense of this whole situation, you found yourself all alone again.

The guard hadn’t heard any of this secret rendezvous, it seemed, or if he did, he was very good at hiding it. You touched his arm, afraid now of being so far away from the safety of the crowd. He was more than happy to escort you back, walking steadily beside you.

The wall of people was as intimidating as it had always been. The judging sea of eyes and gossiping whispers clogged the room, pulling all the oxygen out of you again. You tried to steady yourself, raising your gaze up towards the painted ceiling. There was a sudden rush beside you, an arm intertwining with yours and pulling you along with them through the crowds. It took a few moments before you realised this person was your mother, leading you through the throngs of people towards the centre of the room once again. It wasn’t until she stopped so abruptly and you’d crashed into her back that you realised why she was almost frantic. She’d come to stop at Wonwoo and Seokmin’s feet.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve finally found her!” Your body tipped forward as she pushed you closer. “My daughter is incredibly grateful for this honour.” You could feel what she was trying to say to you and curtsied softly.

“I apologise for stepping outside. It’s not that I do not appreciate the honour, I needed some fresh air is all.” You didn’t raise your stance yet, waiting for one of them to speak.

“It’s understandable that someone of such low class would be overwhelmed at an event such as this.” Their mother’s velvety smooth voice rang through the room as a silence fell upon the crowd. “I wouldn’t have expected anything more from you child.” Her fingernail was sharp as she pushed your chin up, eyes darkening as they locked onto yours. “My my, what a fire in your eyes darling.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

The next morning broke with a storm.

The windows rattled as they were pelted with rain, the sky dark and overbearing. You spent most of the morning wrapped in the warmth of your quilt, barely conscious enough to pull yourself from its safety.

The early hours slowly gave way to the relentless sun and its cold light. Your chest still felt heavy. Somewhere deep within you, somewhere that you weren’t sure you could ever reach, there was a weight settling.

“Darling, are you awake?” Your mother’s voice was soft and calm as she made her way into your bedroom.

“Yes, mother.” The bed sheets rustled and bared you to the cold morning air as they fell away from your body while you stirred. “I’m awake.” Your eyes fell upon her, and that small weight in your chest lifted slightly. Her smile reached her eyes as she seated herself at the end of your bed.

“How are you feeling?” She gently ran a hand through your hair, pushing the strands out of your face.

“Overwhelmed.”

“And” she paused “how does your man friend feel?” Her tone was tentative as if speaking to a wild horse that may bolt any moment.

“Man. Man friend?”

“Oh, come now, you think I didn’t know? I was young too once.” You let out a sigh, how could you ever begin to explain that this man friend your mother was so worried about was the crown prince?

“He’s… changed. He’s not the same man I knew before.” Your voice trailed off, the sudden and unexpected threat of tears stealing your ability to speak. “He’s just not who I thought he was.”

[novankenn]

So Maifa Au. So Mercury is sent after Jaune by his still alive abusive father. So when Mercury is about to attack Jaune and Pyrrha but them Mama Arc steps in to deal with it. Cuts to Mercury crying on the couch with some and hot chocolate and a blanket telling him about his terrible father and how he didn't even want to do this. Mama Arc does on him then cuts to Arc sisters wailing on Marcus.

Date Night Disaster

(A snippet from "a Mafia" & "From Assassin to Sales Clerk" AUs)

Pyrrha was and Blake were hurting. Whomever this guy was, that ambushed them outside the movie theatre, he was good. Hampered by nothing having their weapon s, and also needing to keep Jaune and Blake safe, the pair of "former" assassins, ran, dragging their dates with them.

It was almost a good plan, but the jackass was fast and agile, meaning he was going over stuff Blake and Pyrrha had to take Jaune and Yang around. So for a good twenty minutes of a running fist fight the quartet found themselves in front of Pumpkin Pete's Novelty Store. Blake used her keys and got them all inside. Locking the doors the quartet backed from the plasticized-plate glass windows and doors.

"We just have to hold tight. The alarm should be going off, and someone will be by to check the store out." Blake panted out, as she and Pyrrha kept Jaune and Yang behind them.

"Are you guys okay?" Jaune asked.

"Who the fuck was that psycho?" Yang snapped.

"He's an asshat whose after Jaune." Pyrrha replied, her emerald eyes watching for any movement. Any sign of a threat. "We'll be safe here. It's like Blake said. Security should be around soon."

"Why is anyone after Jaune?" Yang asked, her voice filled with anger.

"It's complicated!" Blake snapped.

"Then uncomplicate it!" Yang snapped back.

The conversation died at that point as the glass of one of the doors exploded towards them, followed by a arrogantly smirking grey haired young man. He said nothing as he just came at them like a whirlwind of strikes. Both Pyrrha and Blake took multiple stiff hits from his feet and shins, before they could recover from shielding their eyes from the flying glass.

It was Pyrrha trapping on of the bastard's legs under her arm when he landed a side kick to her ribs, that gave Blake a chance to go on the attack. Blake was fast, but not a powerhouse, so while she was getting hits through the guys defenses, they weren't doing near enough damage.

"Pyr?" Jaune was at her side trying to help her up as Blake took the fight to their attacker. "Pyr!"

"Yang!" Pyrrha shouted, as she climbed to her feet gritting her teeth against the pain in her side. "You and Jaune get out of here!"

Blake was starting to get pelted by hits, so without waiting for an answer Pyrrha rushed in. The guy was a much better unarmed combatant than either Blake or Pyrrha. As the two young women specialized in bladed weapons. They were by no means slouches... they just didn't have the skills to counter the rapid kicks he was favoring.

Trapping his leg again, Pyrrha tried to grapple him. A knee strike to her chest, followed by a jumping spin kick to her head sent her spinning towards the floor. Blake knew just from how Pyrrha was stumbling that she just had a bell rung.

"Goddess of Death... what a fucking joke." the man quipped with his ever present sneer. "You're both jokes. The great Nikos, and Belladonna. You're nothing without your tools..."

"Hey asshole!" Yang shouted. "Behind you!"

"I'm not stupid enough to..." the sound of twenty pounds of sheet metal, electronics and plastic slamming into flesh, followed by a grunt of pain cut off the asshat's comment.

Blake stood there in shock. Yang had used herself as a distraction so Jaune could... rip the till from the counter with his bare hands and then swing it into the guy's shoulder and head like a flail using the power cord.

"Blake!" Yang yelled trying to get the cat faunus' attention.

"Fuckers!"

"Yang look out!" Jaune shouted, as their attacker recovered and decided game time was over. Blake dashed forward blocking the vicious strike with her back, sending her and Yang sprawling along the floor.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha screamed as she stumbled towards him, as the tall blond covered up and took a kick to his forearms that should have cracked his skull. Jaune went down and down hard. Pyrrha shoulder checked the grey haired asshole aside, and dropped down overtop of Jaune, using her body as a shield.

When a follow up attack didn't happen, Pyrrha looked up with blurry eyes. Her mind found it hard to register what she was seeing. Their attacker was getting his ass kicked by Deery, of all people! Pyrrha's vision swam and a second later she blacked out.

Deery was not happy. The store was a mess, the front door was broken, and her staff had been assaulted, along with her friends. Deery decided she would worry about explanations after. This young pup thinking he was hot shit, needed a lesson in humility. Deery's hands and feet moved with precision. Blocking, countering and redirecting every strike from her opponent, while also punching through his defenses... which he didn't have much talent for.

Snapping a kick of her own out, catching his leg with the flat of her foot, she threw him off balance. That was the beginning of the end. A blazing flurry of punches, open hand strikes, forearms and elbows peppered the s mug little shits' chest shoulders and neck, rocking him to his core, and dropping him unconscious in seconds.

"Deery?" Blake asked weakly pressing her hand to her side. Pain obvious on her face. "What?"

"I was in the neighborhood."

"What was that shit?" Yang asked, her split and swollen lip making her words sound slightly distorted.

"Self-defense course. I took it at the community center." Deery replied, "Good course, you should look into it. Great exercise. Check on Nikos and Arc. I'll take care of this..."

As the pair of young women supported each other in the walk towards their friends, Deandra "Deery" Thistle dragged the unconscious young man into the back staff room. Propping him up in a corner, she checked him over. He was breathing, which was a good sign.

Deery sucked on her front teeth as she confirmed something she had felt in her short confrontation. She sighed as she looked at the prosthetic legs hidden under the loose track pants the young man was wearing.

"Well kid you're in for a very tense talk with an angry momma bear real soon." Deery muttered as she rose and left the staff room to check on Blake and her friends.

/==/

Mercury Black awoke feeling like he had been hit by a truck, then backed over and hit by it again. Groaning he opened his eyes and blinked them back into focus. It was then he realized he was sitting on a couch, with a quilt draped over him. He also noticed his prosthetics were missing.

"Good you're finally awake." came a stern voice. Mercury turned his head to focus on the individual who was speaking. "Well I guess some introduction s are in order. I am Prismeya Arc. You are Mercury Black. You tried to kill my son, at the urging of your shit for brains father."

Mercury swallowed. He had failed the job. If he got out of this alive, his father was going to kill him.

"Now normally you wouldn't be sitting in my house, having a chat with me, all things considered. But your situation is special." Prismeya sat back in her plush arm chair and swirled her glass of red wine. "And just so you know. Everyone is a little roughed up, but they will survive. In fact you answered a couple questions for me, so thank you for that."

"Questions?"

"You need not worry about those. That's a family matter." she took a sip of her wine. "I do have a question for you, and I do hope you answer me truthfully. Did your... father..."

"Yes." Mercury answered knowing exactly what was being asked.

"I see. Excuse me a moment." Prismeya set her glass down, and picked up her scroll. "Did you here that Saphron?"

There was a pause as she listened to this Saphron, who had to be on the other end of the call.

"Good. Are all of you ready?" Another pause.

"Perfect." Prismeya gave Mercury a warm smile before speaking again. "Remove him."

The scroll was set down, and Prismeya picked up her wine glass again. She gave Mercury a soft smile before taking another sip.

"Now. Let's have a chat about your future."

[tinkaaabutt]

Like A Tattoo—E.W

Summary: You and Ellie Williams have always been a team—surviving, fighting, loving. But when cracks begin to form in your fragile world, the weight of loss and unspoken fears threatens to tear you apart.

The rain was relentless, pounding against the tin roof of the cabin as you sat on the couch, cradling your arms against your chest. Ellie was by the window, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the lantern she had lit earlier. She hadn’t said a word in hours, her jaw tight and her fingers twitching at her sides.

“Ellie,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

She didn’t turn.

“I can’t do this if you won’t talk to me,” you tried again, your voice trembling with the weight of the day.

The run had gone wrong—badly wrong. You’d barely made it back alive, and Joel’s old shotgun, which Ellie had carried with her religiously, was still lying in the dirt somewhere outside the QZ. You knew she blamed herself, even if she hadn’t said it outright.

“It’s fine,” she muttered finally, her voice low and sharp.

“It’s not fine,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “We almost died out there, Ellie. I need to know what’s going on in your head.”

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, you thought she might finally open up. Instead, she turned to face you, her eyes hard and unreadable.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, and the words cut deeper than you expected.

You stood, pacing the small room as you struggled to keep your voice steady. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through—everything I’ve done for you—”

Ellie’s laugh was bitter and cold. “Yeah, and look where that got us. People die, Y/N. That’s just how it is. You can’t save everyone.”

The unspoken accusation hung heavy in the air. You flinched, the guilt you carried weighing even heavier on your chest.

“I’m not trying to save everyone,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’m just trying to save you.”

Ellie’s eyes softened for a fleeting moment, but the wall she’d built around herself was too high to climb. She shook her head, turning back to the window.

“You can’t save me,” she whispered, so quietly you almost missed it.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped closer to her. “Ellie, please. You’re shutting me out, and I can’t—I won’t lose you.”

She finally turned to face you, and for the first time, you saw the raw pain in her eyes. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice cracking. “Every time I let myself care, I lose someone. I can’t go through that again. Not with you.”

“Then let me help you,” you pleaded.

But Ellie just shook her head, backing away from you. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone.”

Her words felt like a slap, but you held your ground. “That’s not true, Ellie. You’re just scared.”

“Of course I’m scared!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the small room. “I’m scared of losing you! Of waking up one day and realizing I couldn’t protect you. And I’d rather push you away now than watch you die because of me.”

The weight of her confession hit you like a wave, and you stepped forward, desperate to reach her. “Ellie, I’m not going anywhere. I love you, and I’ll fight for you, even if you won’t fight for yourself.”

But Ellie’s walls were up, and no matter how hard you tried, she wouldn’t let them down.

“Go,” she said, her voice hollow. “Just… go.”

Your heart shattered as you looked at her, standing there with tears streaming down her face and fear written all over her features. You wanted to fight, to stay, to prove to her that you weren’t giving up. But as her gaze hardened, you knew she wouldn’t let you.

So you turned and walked out into the rain, leaving behind the only person you’d ever truly loved.

And as the cabin door closed behind you, the only sound was the rain—and the breaking of two hearts.

End.

[valentine-cafe]

And with "you're just saying that." To Talisen (781) ? - anon

˖⁺. ﹙ grim reaper boyfriend  x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . maybe it's just time for that isntead !! 🍒 : naga  ˖ grim reaper ˖ hero ˖ grim reaper ˖ cw: angst﹙ verse 781 talisen ﹚

you had an argument with talisen after a very long year of absences

so quiet.

like a blanket covers the room with heavy atmosphere that weighs down your heart.

leaves fall from the trees, crying their life away as they glide to the concrete ground way down below. it is like a scattered waste.

a mess. you can’t stand the words that leave the poet before you.

“i love you.” he tries again, tears in his eyes. he knew he had been absent. it wasn’t because he wanted to be. he was a busy man, he had told you at the beginning of your friendship. reminded you at the beginning of your relationship.

it felt as though a knife was twisting within his chest. he wished that you did not accepts his love for you at times. and other times, he needed to just enjoy and be with you so desperately. but the both of you lived to completely different worlds.

“you’re just saying that.” you let out a laugh, tears spilling out of your eyes while nodding. your lips thin into a bitter smile.

“and the next moment i know,” you stop. are you going to go too far? who cares! your heart is in pain. may the conflict rot your insides if it has to. the consequences of your words will be faced after, when all of this is done. you have to get words out.

it was as though your heart was holding you back, however. screaming at you to not let it out. but you had to. the words needed to come out. nevermind how much you hated the look of heartbreak on the reaper’s face.

nevermind how much you knew the words weren’t true.

they were going to hurt him, and right now. that was the best way to make him feel to show him how it felt whenever he would have to go time and time again.

“you’ll leave for another mission with a quick, and pointless, i love you.”

the entirety of him crumbles.

right there. before you.

and the light that shined like the brightest moons within his eyes dim, clouded by the tears. as he turns away from you, not wishing for you to see him cry. hiding away the sobs in his sleeve.

“you’d think you’d at least try to make more time for m—”

“I DO.” he claps back at you. the sudden anger that raged through the room sent you into a downward spiral of shock.

had thine ears ever heard such thunder come from his mouth?

it had washed away as quickly as it had come, the sadness within him. the sentence you had almost finished had the worst kind of backlash on you possible.

a tight jaw drops as the poet speaks once again.

“ALL THIS WEEK.” he yells at you. pointing his index at you with tears of anger streaming down his face. the one indicator that signed his hurt was still twisting away at him.

“ALL THIS WEEK AND IN A MONTH, I HAD TAKEN EVERY DAY OFF.”

a sharp inhale rings throughout the room as he forces himself to lower his voice. he doesn’t want to scare you off either, he doesn’t like yelling, not at you, nor at others. it’s not him.

“i am sorry.” the shaky whisper barely makes way through your ears as they ring.

maroon hues flicker to your face, while a sleeve comes up to wipe away at the tears on his face.

“it was supposed to be a surprise.”

silence. that is all there is, no voice nor words break through it. not until he speaks up one last time.

“i do not think this is going to work out.” your heart shatters. those weren’t the words you’d expected to hear. not after that—

gods, you feel like an ass. tears rushing down your face, while your jaw grows slack.

“no— wait no. tal—”

“no. i can not.” he cuts you off and waves a hand, blinking away the tears in his own eyes. while wiping yours away with his thumb.

his touch is as gentle as it always has been. no harm could’ve ever been put upon you by those hands. never.

“it is for the best.”

“you know that very well, dear. . .”

[robo-writing]

hiii it’s anon who requested the chronic pain reader x Logan, I love that btw!

Recently, like for the past two weeks, random red spots have been appearing on my skin, and I probably got whooping cough again lmao- The doctors don’t know what the illness is, but they think it’s an autoimmune disease of some kind.

My skin as a result looks… At the very best lumpy. And I really hate how it’s making me look 🥲

so can I request another comfort request, with an afab!reader x Simon Riley with reader who’s going through at least something similar? If not that’s fine, I’m sorry for bombarding you 😭

You have trouble with your self-confidence at the best of times, but looking at yourself in the mirror right now makes you want to cry, truly. The large welts make your skin feel lumpy, irritated, and even under the layers of clothes all you can focus on is the fact they’re still on your body, taunting you.

You know it’s temporary, but every time you think about the deformities you feel the urge to curl into yourself and hide away. You’ve even stopped taking his calls, much to Simon’s annoyance, and after a week he’s had enough, knocking at your door urgently.

“Open up darling, lemme see you!”

“I’m sick!” Your muffled voice calls from your bedroom.

“I know where the spare key is love,” he replies, the tell-tale jingle making your ears perk up. “I’m coming inside.”

“No,” you weakly groan from beneath your covers. “I don’t want you to see me Si.”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, hearing the lock click into place as his heavy footsteps enter. You can see his shadow coming closer, and the best you can do is bundle yourself in your sheets.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, can you please leave?”

He shakes his head, moving towards you. “No can do. Just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

Slowly, he pulls off the cover and if you were in better health maybe you could’ve resisted better. You turn your head away from him, not wanting to see the disgust on his face at your blemished skin.

“Oh wow…” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you shrink away even further.

“I told you it was bad,” you sniffle, tugging the sheets back over you. He hesitates for a bit, trying to find the right words.

“Is it chickenpox?”

You know he’s serious, but you can’t help but give a half-hearted chuckle at his words. “No, the doctors don’t know what it is yet.”

“And is it contagious?”

“No—“

“Then move over.”

You look over your shoulder, confusion written in your face. “I’m sorry?”

He doesn’t repeat himself. He takes his shoes off, throws them into a neat pile by the bed, then worms his way under the blanket, wrapping his arms around your torso much to your surprise.

“You’ve been hiding from me all week, I’m making up for lost time,” he mumbles, pulling you even closer to his chest. “Rest up; I’ll buy you some ointment when you wake up.”

Mouth agape, it takes you a moment to catch up, and when you do you realize two things:

1. You’re not getting out of this bed anytime soon.

2. Simon is the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

[healingheartdogs]

Cardio said my echocardiogram ultrasound, exercise stress test, and week long heart monitor all showed no serious issues, my resting heart rate is fine, but that my heart rate does seem to rise very rapidly under even small amounts of stress (postural changes, taking stairs, casually walking around my house) and rises very high (160+ bpm according to the monitor) so now I get to be put on beta blockers to see if they work and if they do she said that is sufficient evidence to confirm for sure that it's POTS.

Obviously could confirm it as well with a tilt table test but those are TORTURE based off what I've heard from fellow POTSies so I am very thankful that she doesn't think that's necessary and will not be making me do one.

[webism]

☆ gojo is so big that you have to go slow with taking him otherwise he will break you. and he loves that fact—he’s so cocky about it, about how every aspect of him is so overwhelming to you that you can’t take his cock without crying.

and they’re good tears, tears that taste good on his tongue when he licks them from your cheeks. tears that spring hot in your eyes with every inch he manages into you—he’s too much, though at the same time you can never get enough of him.

“gonna finally take all of me tonight, baby?” he mocks you, grins at the way your eyes squeeze shut as he rubs at your clit in hopes of relaxing you a tad. “you know, i could flip us over.. let gravity do the hard work.”

you accept because it sounds good in theory. gojo flips you both over and lays on his back as you find purchase with your fingers splayed over his heaving chest. but being like this, with satorus pulsing dick still barely half inside of you, you realise gravity hates you.

because although you're dropping just that little bit further down on his cock, your legs are trembling like it's an effort to keep you off of him. and gojo, being the cocky man he is, takes hold of your hips and works you even further downwards onto his length.

"fuck," is all you can manage, he's painful and narcotic all in the same stroke and so deep inside of you that you swear he's in your stomach. you shake your head, "i can't. you're too big, im sorry."

satoru shakes his head, looks up at you with those lust-blown eyes of his and smiles. "you want me to pull out?"

and as he tries to pull you up and off his length, slow as not to hurt you, there's a look on his face that you can't miss. he's so pretty when he's plotting, but you're only given a second to admire him, because just as he's about to pull the tip of his aching cock out of you, he lets go of your hips.

and your legs fail you, your body collapses downwards and you, in turn, are impaled on his prodigious length once again. you could cry, you think you do—your cheeks are wet when you fall forwards and your gasp of shock is swallowed by gojo, who kisses you hungrily. his fingers dig into your hips as he smiles against your kiss.

you feel his cock twitch inside of you, deeper than you've ever been able to take him before, and you realise you're practically at the base. you've never felt so full... so good... so stretched out and overwhelmed. and when your boyfriend tests the waters and fucks up into you just a little, a breathy moan is drawn straight from your lungs.

"toru—"

"shh," he snaps his hips up again to stall your words. "finally gonna cum inside of you, baby, not pulling out until you're left just as full as you are now."

and if your lover is anything at all, it's a man of his words. you'll have to call in sick tomorrow.