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harknessxo · 2 days ago

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Needy

Paring: Dom!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha finds you touching yourself without permission when she got off work and gives you a much needed punishment.

Warnings; mean agatha, mistress kink, belt spanking, fingering, blowjob, strap on use, edging, aftercare.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: I came up with this idea randomly and started writing along with Cigarettes at the Window.

Agatha had you naked over her lap, her fingers deep inside your greedy cunt. She had been edging you for what felt like hours and while you were under her merciless torture she simply talked over the phone. How did you get yourself in this situation you may ask? Well it is very simple.

See Agatha has a set of rules for you, one of them being that you couldn’t touch yourself without permission. Usually that wasn’t a problem but Agatha hadn’t touched you in days, too busy to do so and today you felt needier than usual while she was at work. You tried to distract yourself from the ache between your legs but you couldn’t. You decided to call her which was against another rule of hers. You weren’t allowed to call her while she was at work unless it was an emergency.

She wasn’t happy when she heard your excuse for the call and refused you any type of release saying that she would deal with you when she got home. You whined, trying to protest but she had already hung up. You sighed in frustration. The wetness between your legs only grew and you desperately needed to cum. So against all odds you decided to take off your clothes, lay back on your bed and started fingering yourself.

You moved your hands down your body, moaning Agatha’s name while you did so. You pinched your nipples, imagining it was her pinching them instead. You were so caught up in your own pleasure you didn’t hear Agatah coming home. She had gotten out of work early to give you a little surprise. She knew you were extra needy today after all her neglect and was ready to give you all the orgasms you wanted until she found you moaning in your shared bed, your fingers knuckles deep inside you.

She watched as you touched yourself in bed, her eyes filled with a mix of lust and annoyance. She smirked as she slowly made her way over to you, standing by the edge of the bed and staring down at you, a disappointed look on her face.

“And to think I was coming home to give you a reward,” her voice rang through the room. You jumped up, startled by her voice, quickly taking your now soaked fingers out of your cunt. She chuckled, seeing you jump. She placed a hand on her hip and tutted at you, shaking her head in disapproval.

“What did I say about touching yourself?” She questioned as she sat down on the bed beside you, her eyes looking over your body.

“Aggie I’m sorry I-” She held up a hand, silencing you mid sentence. She wasn’t in the mood to hear your excuses. She had given you plenty of time to be good but instead you decided to disobey her. She was going to make sure you remembered who was in charge.

“Save it. You’ve already been a very bad girl,” she said as she ran a hand up your back before she pulled your head back roughly, leaning down towards your ear, “and you deserve a punishment. Now get on your knees,” she basically threw you on the floor and you scrambled to get on your knees. Your eyes were on the floor as you waited for her next command. You knew you had messed up big time but you were so needy.

She chuckled as she sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at you on your knees. She placed her foot under your chin and lifted your head up, forcing you to look up at her. She smirked as she looked down at you, enjoying the look of submission on your face.

“Look at you. So desperate for my attention,” she teased.

“I’m sorry for disobeying you, mis-mistress,” you stuttered out, trying to get on her good side. She chuckled once again at the way you stuttered, your submissive side really coming out.

“A simple apology isn’t going to cut it, pet. You’re still getting a punishment but,” ran her foot down your neck and to your chest, “I want to put that mouth to good use while I think of one.” You watched her intensely as she took off her blazer, rolling up her sleeves and started unbuckling her dress pants. She let them fall to her ankle before stepping out of them. Your lips parted at the sight. She smirked knowingly, loving the way you were practically drooling for her. She stepped forward and stood in front of you, a hand resting on your head as she looked down at you.

“Such a needy little thing,” she said, running her fingers through your hair before grabbing a handful and tugging it back, forcing you to look up at her once again, “Now get to work,” she shoved your face into her cunt. You were quick to put your mouth to work, wanting to make her feel good. You watched as her eyebrows frowned in pleasure, balancing herself on the edge of the bed.

She let out a low moan as you got to work on her, her grip on your hair tightening as she held your head in place. Her other hand grabbed the edge of the bed, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping it.

“Mmh, that’s it,” she panted out, “That’s a good little slut. Don’t you dare stop.” You didn’t plan to anyway. You focused on her clit, sneakily slipping your fingers inside her but she tsked. She smacked your hand away when she felt your fingers try to slip inside of her, grabbing your wrist tightly.

“Did I say you could use your fingers, pet?” she said, pulling your head back once again.

“N-no-“

“No, what?” She asked, her grip on your wrist and hair still firm as she held you back. She stared down at you with a smirk, waiting for your response.

“No, mistress.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a smirk, releasing your wrist and pushing your head back between her legs. She pushed her hips against your face, fucking herself with your tongue.

“Keep going, just your tongue.” You tried your best as she kept using you as a toy for pleasure. Agatha’s breathing got heavier as she continued to grind herself against your tongue. Her hand gripped your hair tightly, her hips rocking back and forth as she rode your face. She was getting close, her moans becoming more frequent and louder.

“Fuck. I’m almost done, pet. Keep that mouth open for me,” she panted out and with a couple more thrusts, she came in your mouth. She held your head against her as she came, her thighs clenching around your head as her orgasm washed over her. She let out a loud moan as she rode out her high, slowly starting to come down from it. She gently patted your head as she looked down at you, panting slightly.

“Good girl,” she praised, “Swallow,” she commanded and you obediently swallowed down her juices, humming at her taste. She smiled as you did as she asked, seeing the eagerness in your eyes as you licked her clean.

“Look at you. You’re so desperate for my taste, huh?” She teased as she ran her fingers through your hair gently this time, enjoying the way you worshiped her, “Now come along, pet. You still have a punishment to take.” She said walking out the room towards the living room but not before taking her belt with her. You whimpered when she took her belt. Why couldn’t you have just waited like a good girl? She took a seat on the couch and patted her lap, motioning for you to come over.

“Over my lap, pet,” she ordered, “Now.” You slowly walked over to her, crawling onto her lap. She placed her hand on your back, gently rubbing your skin. She then placed her belt in her lap, making sure you could see it.

“Do you know why you’re being punished, pet?” She asked, continuing to rub your back.

“…yes, mistress.”

“Say it,” she demanded, her belt coming down hard on your ass with a sharp smack.

“I touched myself without your permission…” you whimpered again when she repeated the action, trying to take the pain.

“Mhm, that’s right,” she said, giving your ass a squeeze as she continued to spank you, the sound of the belt echoing throughout the room. She made sure to leave a nice red welts on your skin.

“You’re so naughty. Can’t even keep your hands to yourself,” she scolded, landing another sharp hit to your ass.

“I’m sorry!” You cried out, tears staining your reddened cheeks.

“It’s too late for that now,” she said as she paused her spanking, gently rubbing the now reddened skin of your ass, “Put your hands behind your back,” she commanded, picking up the belt and tying your hands behind your back.

“Now, I’m going to edge you until I see fit and you will remain as quiet as a mouse while I’m on the phone or I will spank you until you can’t sit for weeks, understood?” she said and you nodded meekly. She hummed, satisfied with your response. She slowly ran her hand over your sensitive, red skin, gently caressing it before slipping a finger between your legs, feeling just how wet you were for her.

“You’re soaking, darling. I wonder how many times you can take being denied,” she mocked as she teased your entrance then roughly thrusting her fingers inside your tight walls. And that’s how you ended up in this position. Sprawled over her lap, being denied any type of release.

She continued to tease you for the next hour, her fingers working in and out of your dripping cunt all while she talked to her friend Wanda on the phone. She would occasionally rub your clit, only to take it away and focus on your inner walls again, knowing it would drive you insane. She smirked as you tried to grind against her hand, knowing you were desperate for more but that you weren’t allowed to ask for it. Of course you couldn’t keep quiet for long which would lead to her having to spank you hard every now and then.

She would mute herself and chuckled every time she heard you moan or whine, knowing she was breaking you down. After each spank she would run her hand over the reddened skin, the heat coming off of it from the constant abuse. She loved how much of a mess you were in her lap. So desperate and needy, it was almost adorable to her.

“Mi-mistress?” You said after she hung up the phone, your voice trembling.

“Yes, pet?” She responded, pausing her movements for a moment as she looked down at you, her fingers still deep inside you.

“Please let me cum?” you begged. She hummed, pretending to think about it. She slowly started moving her fingers again, curling them inside you to hit your sweet spot.

“Oh darling, you think you deserve to cum after being such a bad girl?”

“I’ll be good from now on! Please?” You sobbed.

She chuckled again, her smirk growing wider at your begging. She pulled her fingers out of you, bringing them to her lips and sucking them clean. She then pulled your hair back, forcing you to look up at her.

“You’ll be good, hm? I’m not sure I believe you, pet. You’re a greedy girl, always wanting more. Can’t get enough of me,” she said as she ran her thumb over your lower lip.

“Please, mistress, please?”

“Such a pretty little beggar,” she cooed, still holding you by your hair. She let go and shoved you off her lap onto the floor, standing up and towering over you.

“On your knees,” she ordered, “Maybe if you’re good and do as you’re told, I’ll give you a reward.” She left the room for a moment and came back with a strap around her hips. You knew exactly what she was going to do and it made you even more wet. She walked over to you, standing in front of you with a smirk on her face. She grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to look at her.

“Now be a good girl and open that pretty little mouth of yours,” she said, gently rubbing the tip of the strap against your lips. You opened your mouth nice and wide, just how she liked it, and she shoved the strap in your mouth immediately thrusting her hips in and out of your mouth, making you gag right off the bat.

She let out a soft moan as she continued to thrust in and out of your mouth, even if she couldn’t feel it she loved the sight of your warm, wet mouth around her strap. She placed her hand on the back of your head, holding you in place as she looked down at you, her eyes dark with lust.

“That’s a good cockslut,” she said through her gritted teeth, “Take it all.” Tears started rolling down your cheeks from her strap hitting the back of your throat. It was making it hard to breathe but Agatha didn’t care. She liked to see you suffer the consequences of your actions.

She watched you intently, loving the way tears streamed down your face and the look of pure bliss on her own. She pushed her hips forward even more, forcing you to take her strap down your throat before roughly pulling your head back, ropes of saliva connecting your lips to her strap. You panted pathetically, trying to catch your breath.

“Such a messy girl,” she teased, leaning down to lick your tears before picking you up and bending you over the armrest of the couch, “You’re already stimulated enough, aren’t you?” She said into your ear and you nodded.

“Okay then,” she aligned the strap with your entrance, “You have fifteen seconds to cum or you’re not coming at all,” she said harshly into your ear and started pounding into you, mercilessly. She set a fast and rough pace, slamming into you over and over again. She grabbed your hips, digging her nails into your skin as she pulled you back onto her strap. She smirked as you cried out from the intense pleasure, loving the way you were struggling to hold yourself together.

“Fifteen…fourteen…thirteen…” she counted down which only made you more desperate to get over the edge. By the time she reached ten, you were practically sobbing with desperation. You were so close, the knot in your stomach was about to snap. She knew you were right on the edge and it was only a matter of time before you came undone for her.

She took pity in you and started rubbing your clit to help you reach your climax. She could feel your body starting to tremble as you neared your orgasm. She leaned over you, her chest pressing against your back as she continued to rub your clit in quick, tight circles. She nibbled on your earlobe as she whispered in your ear.

“Come on, darling. Cum for me. I know you can do it,”

“I’m coming!” She hummed in approval, continuing to thrust into you and rub your clit as you finally reached your climax. She held you tightly against her as your body trembled and spasmed with pleasure, her name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“T-thank you, m-mistress,” you stuttered out as you started to come down from your high. She slowed her pace, still holding your trembling body close to her as she helped you ride out your orgasm. She placed a few soft kisses on your neck, her grip on your hip slowly loosening as she let you catch your breath while helping you up into a sitting position.

“Such a good girl, my pretty little mess,” she said softly as she gently ran her fingers through your hair. You leaned into her soft touch. She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her lap, holding you close. She placed a kiss on your forehead as she continued to pet your hair.

“How’s my favorite girl doing now?” She asked genuinely. She always checked on you after any rough activity you two did.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry for disobeying you.” She cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to look up at her. She gave you a gentle smile and shook her head.

“I’m not mad at you anymore, baby. But you know I don't like when you disobey me,” she said as she gently rubbed her thumb over your cheek.

“I know. It won’t happen again, I promise.” She chuckled softly, still holding your face gently in her hands.

“You always say that,” she teased as she pinched your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make a point, “and yet here we are, after your naughty behavior, my dear.”

“I can’t help it…” you whined. She chuckled again, this time a bit more darkly. She leaned forward, her lips hovering over yours as she spoke in a low tone.

“I know you can’t. You’ve always been a needy brat but that’s what makes punishing you so much sweeter.”

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#fanfic #smut #agatha harkness #x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #aftercare #mommy k!nk

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goldfades · 2 days ago

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❝ 𝐚𝐟𝐜 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬, burrow. ❞

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you give joe his own celebration after winning.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | NSFW! minors pls dni. plot w/ smut, messy head sesh (joe receiving), cigar mentions, praise and um... nothing else? pretty self indulgent.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | if you guys enjoy this i might just write more for joe 🫣 if you guys have any requests, my inbox is open rn!

The crowd is electric, buzzing with that rare, palpable energy that comes only when an entire city feels the taste of victory on its tongue.

The stadium lights are still blazing, casting a golden glow over the field, and you can see Joe, helmet off, hair slightly mussed from the game. He looks different tonight—not the quiet, calculating Joe who keeps everything just below the surface. This version of him stands tall, eyes sharp, taking it all in with a sly, almost cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You’re swept up in the energy as he walks towards you, chest out, shoulders loose, like he owns the night. His usual restraint is nowhere to be found; every bit of him is reveling in this moment, and it’s as if he knows exactly how everyone is looking at him, yourself included.

The cheers and the chanting blur together, and you feel your pulse match the beat of the stadium around you. He's coming closer, that rare glint in his eye—the kind that says he knows he's good, and tonight, he’s not hiding it. He reaches you, and before you can even say anything, his hands find your hips, pulling you in with a confidence that’s both unexpected and thrilling.

Joe isn’t usually one for public displays, especially after a game when he’s all focus and steady composure, but tonight is different. Tonight, he’s every bit the champion and you can see it in the way he looks at you, like he’s not just savoring the win but the whole world in his hands.

Without a second thought, he cups your face, his touch warm and firm, and his lips crash into yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. The kiss is fierce, almost possessive, and your heart skips a beat as you realize he doesn’t care that everyone’s watching—that someone, somewhere, probably has their phone out recording this very moment. He’s completely wrapped up in you, and for this one fleeting moment, you’re the only thing that exists.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a smudge of your lipstick on his lips, unmistakable and bold, and he’s got that cocky grin again, wider this time, unbothered by the smear of color. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away a trace of lipstick, his eyes sparking with that rare, unabashed pride.

"Guess I’m taking home two trophies tonight," he murmurs, his voice low, just for you.

His hand stays on your hips, grounding you as you’re both swept up in the exhilaration of the night. The crowd, the lights, the whole stadium could disappear, and it still wouldn’t matter. Joe doesn’t care about anything else—he’s made that clear.

━━━━━

The club pulses with energy, dark and sleek, lit by flashes of neon lights and thrumming to the bass-heavy beat of music that vibrates up through the floor. The exclusive afterparty is alive with players, coaches, friends, and the lucky few who managed an invite, and you can feel the buzz of victory in the air. It’s thick with the thrill of the win, the endless energy of a city that hasn’t been able to stop talking about Joe and the team since last year’s championship.

Joe’s beside you, his hand never leaving your back as he navigates through the crowd, and he’s still got that spark in his eyes. There’s a looseness to him tonight—a magnetic energy that draws everyone in. He’s in his element, basking in it, tossing back easy laughs with his teammates, tossing friendly jabs at anyone who dares question the next championship he has in mind. Every time someone congratulates him, he pulls you closer, and even though he usually keeps things more private, tonight feels like a night for breaking his own rules.

You’re holding onto his arm, laughing along with him, when his teammate Sam catches sight of the lipstick stain that still lingers faintly on Joe’s mouth.

He raises a brow, grinning wide, and elbows Joe. "Looks like the MVP’s got more than a trophy tonight," Sam jokes, his voice teasing but warm.

Joe doesn’t even bother to wipe it off. Instead, he smirks, pulling you closer with a shrug that radiates easy confidence. "Best accessory, don’t you think?" he says, voice low but loud enough to carry over the music, and his arm slides around your waist, holding you against him like he doesn’t plan on letting go.

You laugh, leaning into him as he glances down at you, that cocky spark in his eyes making your pulse race. Joe has always been cool, confident, but tonight there’s something different about him—a unrestrained pride that makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of something unforgettable.

“Careful,” you tease, looking up at him, your voice playful. “Keep that attitude up, and they’re going to start thinking you’re actually enjoying the attention.”

He chuckles, a low sound that only you can hear. “Guess I might be, just a little,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “It’s not every day you get to win back-to-back championships. Gotta let myself enjoy it for once, right?”

Before you can answer, Ja’Marr sidles up beside him, grinning from ear to ear. He’s got that same victorious look in his eyes and you can tell he’s been looking forward to this moment just as much as Joe has. Reaching into his pocket, Ja’Marr pulls out a fat cigar, extending it to Joe with a knowing smirk.

“Time for a victory smoke, QB,” Ja’Marr says, his voice light but laced with pride. “You earned it.”

Joe takes the cigar, turning it over in his hands as if considering it, then lets out a low, appreciative laugh. He glances at you with a grin. “Guess we’re going all out tonight, huh?”

You nod, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and his hand finds your waist again as he turns back to Ja’Marr. “Thanks, man,” Joe says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ja’Marr shakes his head, feigning modesty. “Nah, tonight’s all you, bro. I just happened to be along for the ride.” He steps back, lifting his own glass in a toast, and the whole crew around you does the same, echoing the sentiment as they raise their drinks.

“To Joey,” Ja’Marr calls, his voice carrying over the music. “And to running this city two years straight!”

The crowd roars in agreement, and Joe raises the cigar in salute before flashing that unrestrained smile again, lighting it up with a satisfied exhale. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips as he relaxes back against the booth, pulling you close beside him.

“You know,” he says, glancing at you with a grin that’s both relaxed and intoxicatingly self-assured, “could get used to this whole king-of-the-city thing. But only if you’re here with me.”

“Think I could make that work,” you reply, smiling as you tuck yourself against him, his arm solid and warm around you.

Joe leans back in the booth, his arm still looped around you, his blue eyes sharp and unmistakably bold as he exhales a long, lazy stream of smoke. There’s a cocky tilt to his mouth, something magnetic that holds your gaze, and when he catches you staring, that grin only deepens.

“You look a little too comfortable holding court like this,” you say, smirking, leaning into him just enough that your knee brushes his.

He gives you a look that makes your stomach flip, tilting his head as he takes another drag from the cigar, never breaking eye contact. “I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, just loud enough for you to hear over the noise.

The way he says it, like he owns the moment—and maybe you, too—sends a thrill down your spine. You lift your chin, refusing to look away, feeling the tension spark like electricity between you.

“You sure you can handle the attention?” you challenge, arching a brow. “I don’t remember you being one for the spotlight.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” he replies, voice dripping with confidence. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, his lips a mere breath away from yours. “Question is, can you?”

His eyes are dark, daring, and you feel his hand press against your waist, fingers brushing the bare skin where your shirt rides up slightly. The club is hot, noisy, and every beat of the music seems to pulse between you, building the tension.

Before you can answer, he leans in even closer, his mouth hovering by your ear. “Because from where I’m sitting,” he murmurs, “you’re looking at me like you’re ready to break a few of my rules tonight.”

━━━━━

And that's how you ended up back at the hotel, on your knees, looking up at Joe like he was the only thing that mattered. The room is quiet now, a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club, but the silence makes everything feel sharper, more charged. The dim lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the confidence that radiates off him with every breath, every small movement.

He’s standing there, looking down at you, his eyes dark, studying you with that intensity that makes your heart race. There’s a cocky, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips—a hint of pride that you can’t help but want to unravel. You can see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his breathing steady, controlled, even though you know he’s feeling every second of this as much as you are.

Joe’s hand lingers on your face, tilting your chin up just a bit more as he watches you, his eyes tracing every detail like he wants to commit it to memory.

Your hands worked on his belt as he let out a quiet groan and he doesn’t stop you, lets you take control for a moment, and the way his breath catches in his chest makes something inside you stir. He’s always the confident one, the one who stays in control, but tonight, in this space, everything feels different. It’s like he’s giving you the freedom to move, to touch, to test just how far you can push him.

“God,” he mutters, his hand sliding from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers curling just lightly around it, like he’s marking his place, claiming it without saying a word. His thumb gently strokes over your skin, sending a pulse of heat through you as you finish loosening his belt.

The moment the buckle comes free, you pull him closer, your fingers tracing his waistband as you look up at him, your lips just a breath away from where he needed you most. His chest rises and falls rapidly now, a sign that you’re getting to him, that the tension is starting to break.

He leans down slightly, his breath hot against your ear, voice low and rough. “You know, you could make me forget the whole damn night with just a single move.”

You smile, a slow, teasing thing, as you drag your hands down to his bulge, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten in anticipation. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a dare, but you don’t rush, taking your time, letting every moment hang between you like a promise. The way he’s watching you, waiting for your next move, only makes the tension between you more intense.

Joe’s gaze darkens even more, the intensity turning almost possessive as his hand sliding into your hair again, gently pulling you up to meet his lips in a kiss that’s every bit as hungry and desperate as it is passionate. He’s pulling you closer and you can feel the weight of him, the heat of his body, as he presses you back on the floor.

“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he breathes against your lips, his voice low, full of need. The way he says it, like he can’t hold back, makes you ache with want. He falls back on a chair behind him, his eyes full of need. You know exactly what he wants as he spreads his thighs.

“Come on, baby. Give me what I want,” he urges breathlessly as you find your way in between his thighs.

Your hands slide back to his thighs, fingers brushing against the hard lines of his body, and you can feel his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes.

You finally pull off his underpants, freeing his hardened length. He lets out a breath as his hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Joe doesn't wait any longer, he pushes you downward until your lips meet his warm tip.

“Taking your time, huh?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, a hint of impatience flickering in his eyes as he watches every movement you make. There’s a slight smirk on his lips, but it fades quickly as you press a little closer, opening your mouth to finally take him.

He lets out a guttural groan as his grip tightens in your hair. The taste of him is intoxicating, you couldn't help but let out a sound of your own. Your lips wrap around his thick cock effortlessly, taking him slowly.

Joe wasn't in the slow mood, though. His grip in your hair didn't loosen as he began moving your head in his own accord, your muffled moans egging him on. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag as your fingers scratched his thigh instinctively.

“That's it, baby,” he groaned breathlessly. “Take my cock, just like that.”

Your jaw was already sore, your chin was dripping with a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum but somehow you still relished in this. Your eyes were watering as you tried to keep them open, watching Joe's every expression and hearing every sound. Every praise that left his mouth spurred you on, your mouth sliding up and down his wet cock.

And despite the mess you've made, Joe still thought you were the sexiest woman alive. He couldn't look at you any longer, because he swore he would just cum at the mere sight. You slipped off his cock, your tongue flicking his tip as you caught your breath. You slowly took him back in, humming at the feeling of being so full.

His hand tightened in your hair as his head fell back on the chair, his mouth slightly open as he groaned. “Oh fuck, yeah. Keep going,” he grunted. “Gonna cum, fuck.”

Before you could even react, his cum filled your mouth as you moaned around his cock. You tried your best to swallow all of it before you slipped off, your chest rising up and down. Looking up at Joe, he wore a fucked-out expression, all his previous cockiness had softened into something raw and unguarded.

His head is tilted back against the chair, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he tries to catch his breath, his gaze finding yours with a look that’s equal parts amazement and satisfaction. The flicker of dim hotel light casts shadows across his face, highlighting his features in a way that makes him look almost softer, stripped down to just Joe, without the bravado and the public image.

He lets out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair, which is now mussed and a little wild. “Think you just ruined me,” he murmurs, voice still thick, a slight rasp lingering from the exertion.

His hand reaches down, fingers grazing your shoulder before sliding up to brush against your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he takes in every inch of you with that slightly dazed, contented gaze.

You smile, a satisfied warmth spreading through you as you sit back, watching him collect himself, looking at him in this quiet, vulnerable moment. “Maybe I just wanted to see if I could,” you reply, voice raspy with an edge of pride. You know the effect you’ve had on him, and the thrill of it lingers in the air between you, sparking like the last remnants of a fire.

Joe chuckles, his fingers trailing lightly along your jaw, then down to your chin, where he tilts your face up to meet his eyes fully. “Oh, trust me,” he says, his gaze darkening again, though now softened with something deeper, “you’ve got me right where you want me.” He leans forward, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost tender kiss that lingers longer than you expect, as if he wants to savor the moment. He could taste himself on your tongue, making his ego skyrocket.

For a minute, neither of you speaks. There’s just the sound of your breaths mingling, his other hand slips up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and he gives you this look that makes your heart race all over again, even after everything that just happened.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nfl imagine #nfl football #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #joeyb #cincinnati football #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fluff

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cherimoyatea · 12 hours ago

Note

Heyyy, can I request an ff where Sylus and Mc are having their intimate moment but they forgot to close the door so Luke and Kieran accidentally saw them?

Ahhh a request! Hi Annonie!

Thank you so much for trusting me with your request! I actually never saw that coming, so I'm kind of both nervous and excited at the same time!

Life has been busy recently and I didn't have much time to write but your request was spinning in the back of my head! And this was so much fun to write!

I changed my style for a more comedic route this time and kept things lighthearted, hope that's okay!

Love, Cheri 🍒

❧ Sylus - Private Surprise

Pairing: Sylus x You Word Count: 826 Tags: established relationship, comedy, suggestive content (kissing, making out, no smut tho), luke and kieran being adorkable

It's Friday night, and you have eagerly accepted your boyfriend's invitation to spend the weekend at his villa in the N109 Zone.

After a long, challenging week, the chance to spend a few days with him couldn't have come at a better time, and your heart fluttered when he picked you up to have dinner together before driving you both back to his place.

You're standing by the sideboard in his living room, about to pour yourself a drink, when Sylus suddenly appears behind you on silent toes, putting his hands on your hips.

''Mmm, I missed you, Kitten…''

He whispers in your ear, grazing it with the tip of his nose.

Slowly, the silver-haired man moves his head down your neck, gently placing soft kisses there. His touch on your skin sends a tingle through your body, and you can't help but close your eyes and tilt your neck, giving him more space as he moves down to your shoulder.

''S-Sylus… Luke and Kieran will be here anytime soon.''

You stutter nervously while his hands move to the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding beneath the fabric to find the soft skin of your stomach, a smirk forming on his lips. ''Don't worry about the twins, Sweetie. I've sent them off to pick something up for me—they'll be busy for a while.''

Even though your pulse is racing with excitement, you set your glass back on the sideboard and turn around with a teasing smile, crossing your arms to appear nonchalant. ''Oh! So this is the surprise you mentioned earlier? I see…''

''No Kitten…'' Sylus replies with a smug grin, unfazed by your cheeky attitude. Even though you are pretending to be indifferent, your flushed face gives you away. With one swift move, he lifts your hips and places you on the sideboard, stepping between your thighs as he spreads them with his strong hands. ''...the surprise is yet to come.''

The red-eyed man leans closer, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before hungerily sliding his tongue out, inviting himself into your mouth. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you willingly let him in and wrap your arms around his neck, returning his kiss passionatly.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you don't hear the front door being opened and steps echoing in the hallway, coming closer…

''Boss, the address turned out to be wrong. We-''

You both startle and your heads swivel toward the voice when the door swings open and Luke and Kieran enter the living room, suddenly freezing in their movements as their eyes meet you and Sylus.

Obviously caught in a very intimate moment.

''O-Oh shit!! Boss?! MC??'' Kieran squeaks, while Luke throws his hands over his mask in an attempt to cover his eyes. Shrill screams echo through the huge villa, and Sylus raises an irritated eyebrow, unsure who's louder—the twins or you!

Panicked, the young men try to escape the awkward situation by running off, but Kieran stumbles over a pouf, grabs Luke's arm, and causes both of them to trip and fall to the floor instead.

''Waaah, my eyes, my eeeyes!'' Luke whines, rubbing his hands frantically on his mask, while Kieran tries to gather himself from the floor, still paralyzed by embarrassment.

The twins feel like they just walked into their parents!

''Argh, enough now!'' Sylus snarls and pulls away from you, giving you space to quickly jump off the sideboard and hide behind his large form so you can fix your disheveled state. With a single motion of his hand, the twins are swiftly thrown out of the living room, the door slamming shut behind them with a loud bang.

''N-Noo…!'' You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat flood your cheeks.

Why didn't you lock the damn door?

''I'll never be able to face them again!'' You whine, wishing the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

Sylus lets out an amused huff and gently grips your wrists, pulling it away from your flushed face to look at you. ''I feel like the twins aren't any better, Kitten.''

The next morning, the twins are nowhere to be seen when you and Sylus have breakfast in the dining room. And even for the rest of your stay, there is no sign of them, anywhere.

Once you're back home, you find a small gift basket on your doorstep, filled with your favorite sweets, flowers, and plushies. As you approach, you catch a glimpse of two shadows hiding around the corner of your stairway, watching you closely from afar.

Pretending you didn't see them, you pick up the basket, fish for the note inside, and chuckle as you read it silently:

''Sorry MC! We won't tell anyone! Promise!

xoxo, Luke and Kieran

p.s.: Luke has serious questions about the 'sideboard moment' but don't worry, he's too embarrassed to ask.

p.p.s.: Next time, maybe a 'Do Not Disturb' sign?"

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

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devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 3 days ago

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Love your DC content!! Can you write something olderbf bruce becoming a parent with younger reader? Or bestfriend jason finding out reader is dating dick?

Thank you 💜

Omg absolutely!! Tysm for the request and I definitely want to write the one for Jason at some point in the future, buttt for now, because its 2 AM, you'll get some OlderBF! Bruce :)

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

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne Becoming a Parent

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who finds out that you're pregnant before you even know. To be fair, it didn't take the world's greatest detective to notice the menstrual products in your master bathroom that haven't been touched in the past two months or so.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who makes you feel silly for ever being nervous about telling him that you're pregnant, even though he's freaking out a little on the inside.

Your day was long. Long enough that your back had been aching and your feet and ankles were sore. Hell, you could barely keep your eyes open while standing, how the hell could you exoect yourself to stay awake while laying down on one of the lavish couches in Wayne Manor's library? But, in the blink of an eye (literally), you were awoken by Bruce carefully taking off your shoes. Had you really just passed out on the spot? Pregnancy symptoms must've been hitting you a little harder than you thought...

"Any morning sickness today?" He asks casually as he finishes taking off your other shoe before pressing a kiss to your knee.

"No... It's been alright." You answer without thinking too much about the question. But after a few moments of relishing in the heavenly feeling of Bruce rubbing your swollen feet, the question clicks. "Wait, I can explain-"

"And so can the pads and tampons in the bathroom that haven't been used in two months." He answers before you can finish, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the rainy Gotham weather. "Were you going to tell me?" Bruce asks as he continues his minstrations on your sore feet, his thumbs pressing into your aching arches.

"Of course I was." You answer without hesitation, because you knew you could never keep a secret from Bruce for too long. He was far too observant for that. Yet another difference between him and the younger guys you've dated. "I just couldn't find a good time."

"Look at me, sweetheart." His voice is soft as he tilts your chin towards him, gently stroking your jaw in such a soothing manner that you may just fall asleep again. "Any time is a good time to talk to me about something like this, alright? I don't care how many work meetings I have or how late it is; you are always my top priority."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't expect you to keep the baby, nor does he let you go through making a decision on your own. By the time you hit your third month, the two of you had talked maybe three to four times about what would be best for you, because you are the most important person in his life.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is immediately at your side for every will and command from that moment on. He knows that this is your first child and just how hard the pregnancy will be on your body, so he refuses to risk anything. You need water? He's already there with a glass and small snack for you. You need to use the bathroom on one of the rare nights that he's home? He's already helping you out of bed and giving you long, tired hugs as soon as you stand before leading you to the master bathroom.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who starts taking a few more nights off whenever he can from his patrols just to be there for you and the tiny life inside your womb. He trusts that Dick can handle Gotham for a few nights on his own every once in a while, for your sake.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who still hasn't told you about his double life as a vigilante, but finally starts considering it. As soon as he started looking at rings, he knew he'd have to come clean eventually. He needed you in his life far more than he thought he'd ever need anyone or anything.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't let the paparazzi near you at all throughout your pregnancy. In fact, he's tried to keep you inside as much as possible to avoid them, since the two of you never made a public announcement. It was for your safety as much as it was for his sanity.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is right there as soon as the contractions start (after his initial shock and internal panic attack). He doesn't leave your side for a moment, not even when he's certain you've fractured something in his hand from how hard you're gripping it.

There was almost a swarm of motion around you in the private hospital room you were set up in. Your contractions were coming in strong, and so was your grip on Bruce's hand. "Bruce, I can't do this," well, its a little late for that, "it's too much." You're practically sobbing at this point as you feel the foreboding pressure of an oncoming attraction in your uterus.

"Yes, you can." Bruce is sitting in a chair right next to your bed, the guardrail down while he has one arm around your shoulders and his free hand being crushed by your grip. "I'm right here. You've already made it this far, sweetheart."

And, for a moment, you almost believe him. Until another contraction comes rattling through your body, this one far stronger than the rest you've experienced. "I cant, I can't, I can't, I can't." Is all you can cry out in utter agony, your knuckles turned white as you grip Bruce's hand.

"Do you have any idea how close you are to being done?" He asks as he gently rubs your shoulder, trying not to show just how painful your grip on his hand is. "Five more minutes, alright? Five more minutes of suffering for a lifetime of happiness. Do you think you can handle that for me, sweetheart?"

And, despite your body feeling like its burning and being torn in half, you nod. In what feels like mere moments later, the sound of shrilling cries fill the delivery room. Bruce swears it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, for the first time in literal years, cries while holding your infant. His face is red, cheeks are tear-stained, and his beautiful blue eyes are puffy and watery: the same beautiful blue eyes that your baby has.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is pampering you in affection and attention for the entire time you're in the hospital. Every single craving you've had but couldn't satisfy for the past nine months, he already has brought to you in bed.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, when the baby is taken by nurses for examinations a day or two after the birth, shows you a ring. A beautiful, beautiful ring that fits your left hand perfectly and shimmers in the bright hospital lights. Your engagement ring.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who has a private, simple wedding with you, Alfred, his adoptive children, and your beautiful newborn. The press was too risky to deal with for a public wedding, and Bruce wanted those special moments to just be for your family, not for the media's prying eyes.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who is there for as many milestones as he can be. First steps? He's got the camera. Their first words? "Dada." Their baby teeth coming in? He's already bought those little tooth-shaped containers for when they fall out in a couple of years.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who always knew it was you. You were the best thing to have ever happened in his life, and he refused to mess that up. He knew that, eventually, he would have to tell you about his double life as the Caped Crusader, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

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

Masterlist

#batfam #batfamily #batman #dc #bruce wayne #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne x reader #dc comics #dcu #dc universe

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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

Text

reblogging comment review by @zyafics

i’m alive i’m here (i’m fulfilling my duties bc damn a bitch went offline for 9 days and is behind on everything 😭) ⬇️

You drifted to your room, collapsing onto the small bed. The familiar scent of home did little to soothe the ache in your chest. It didn’t feel right. It never did, only when your brother was around, but now, not even that thought gave you faith as you closed your eyes, picturing Rafe’s face. His smile, his touch, his voice – they were all painfully vivid.

ugh i miss ur writing sm i love how this scene felt “slow” like u were navigating this lagged moment with her because nothing felt real

As you both settled in, the familiar warmth of his presence was a small comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you were still here together.

i don’t give a shit the one thing i love more than romance stories is sibling relationships 😭 they’re my heart n soul

"He’s facing several charges, but the severity of his sentence could depend on his cooperation. If he agrees to testify against his father, the authorities might offer him a deal."

i fear he won’t do it 😭😃

“You’re too good, y’know that? Personally, I don’t give a fuck if he dies.”

jj 😭😭😭 leave her alone 😭😭😭

"Complicated? Complicated is being stuck on an island, wondering if your sister is alive or dead. Complicated is dealing with the fact that the guy who put us through hell gets to play hero for a day and suddenly he's got your sympathy."

screaming into my pillow ur dialogues r too good

A carbon copy of your mother, your punishment.

okay pause ✋🏼 not the thematic parallel to abusive and neglectful parental figures i cannot handle this

You were just trying to find a shred of humanity in someone who had shown you a glimpse of it.

THIS LINE EATS SO HARD 😭😭😭

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?”

my jj would swing at ur jj for the way ur talking to ur sister

“Because I want to!” You screamed even though you hadn’t meant to. Tears of frustration fell as you raised your head, “And as far as I’m concerned, I’m still my own person and I can make my own decisions.”

PERIOD!!!!

“He was good to me.”

girl *I* held my breath

Sarah never pushed you to talk, never demanded explanations. Instead, she just sat with you, shared a laugh or two, and let the silence speak for itself. It was a strange comfort; one you hadn’t realized you needed until it was there.

i love ur sarah sm mines a bitchhh 🙂‍↕️✋🏼

“No. Uh, a friend, I guess—” You were about to ramble, not too certain of what to say, but settled for, “Can you tell him Maybank’s calling?”

WHY DO I FEEL LIKE HIS PUNK ASS IS GONNA BE LIKE “i don’t know a maybank”

"I’m sorry. Mr. Cameron has requested not to speak with you," she said. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

YOU PUNK ASS BITCH

You screamed until your throat was raw, until you had nothing left to give.

no i didn’t (personally cannot scream LOL)

Six months had passed since that day

what the actual fuck

You had spent the afternoon alone, lounging in the living room with a half-read book and a broken fan that did little to ease the stifling heat.

such good imagery god i love this

Your words caught in your throat as you saw him standing there.

my heart is pounding omg

“You had six months.”

YIKES 😬

You looked at him, searching for any sign of deceit. His eyes were clear, more focused than you had ever seen them. “Why should I believe you?”

i’m shaking rn pls give a girl some respite

Rafe looked offended, eyes zeroing in on your lips before his gaze met yours. That's when you felt it again, “I never lied to you.”

i’m throwing punches into my pillow rn biting my teeth ohmygod

Rafe’s expression softened, and he reached out tentatively, his hand stopping inches from your arm. “I’m sorry, baby.”

go away demon 👹 @ gigi

It’s only then, when your brain cleared slightly that you noticed he looked different. His hair had been buzzed, his skin looked tanner than the last time you’d seen him, he looked healthier.

oh we’re in season 3 now ok

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

i’m literally scraping my fingernails against chalkboards rn pls stop this madness 🛑🛑🛑

Rafe paused in the doorway, his back to you. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried clearly through the thick air. "I don’t regret it," he repeated, his shoulders tensing as he spoke.

gonna die ok 🪦

You had tried so hard to suppress your feelings, to deny the depth of your connection with him. But this…wasn’t something that could be easily forgotten or ignored. You had been so afraid to admit it, fearing that acknowledging would destroy you.

You were in love with Rafe Cameron.

oh my fucking god u did it again

final thoughts — ohmygod. i dont know why i kept putting off reading this? i think a part of me was scared because the literal content warning was “aka angst” and i said no. anyways, first and foremost u done it again gigi. what i was so impressed about this chapter was ur ability to create such flowing, strong and long dialogues. the one between jj and reader i read twice because i can’t believe how naturally-paced this story goes through that u don’t even realized it’s chunks on chunks of dialogues. that’s such an incredible feat and knowing now that ur from europe and english is probably a second language? the way u select the right words at the right time is an talent i strive to have. i’m like re-editing in my head being like “would i come up with that?” and being like “yeah i would’ve ended it there (bc i don’t know how to elongate a scene) but gigi knew how to keep it going.” gigi, when i tell u that’s one of the most impressive skills i’ve ever seen in my life i’m so serious. also, the way you structure and keep a consistent flow of emotions. the beginning of the story is stretched out in a way that i cinematically imagined a lagged moment. yk how in euphoria where it drags a scene from one part to the next? like that. and then the ending, when i said i was shaking, i was truly shaking. u had my heart clutched in ur hand and u just SQUEEZED IT 😭 💔 the way i felt everything and was so scared and panicking and my eyes wanted to read ahead because i wanted to know what happens but i also wanted to enjoy the writing 😭 u got me doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out how to read 😃 i thoroughly enjoyed this to the very end and ngl, i am so scared to read the next chapter i think imma hold off for a min…

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - five

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst <3333333 for everyone <33; might need some editing bc im too tired to check everything but yeah

word count: 7.7k

The ride back to home was a blur. The plane ride, the ferry.

Everything.

Every mile that took you further from Rafe felt like a wound being reopened. The police officers tried to engage you in conversation, but your responses were monosyllabic at best. They eventually gave up, letting you stare out the window in silence.

When you finally arrived, the sight of the familiar streets of The Cut did little to comfort you. Your house felt alien, a place you barely recognized. The officers escorted you inside, their presence a reminder of the reality you were returning to.

“Your brother and your friends were rescued from a remote island a while ago. He was informed of your whereabouts an hour ago, he’ll be here soon.”

Their words barely registered.

You nodded numbly; your mind still stuck between the events that had unfolded just two days ago.

What kind of sister had you turned into? Barely phased over the fact your little brother was thankfully alive and well? You were supposed to protect him.

Sensing your detachment, they exchanged a look before retreating to the porch, giving you some semblance of privacy.

You wandered through the house, your steps heavy. Each room felt like a snapshot from another life. The couch where you and your brother used to bicker over TV shows when Luke spent days doing God knows what, the kitchen table where meals were shared and stories were told, only between you two– they all seemed like relics of a past you could no longer touch.

Things would never be the same, you knew that.

That must be your punishment.

A soft knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. You sat up, heart racing. Your body was still on high alert, every little noise sent shivers down your skin. The blasting of the gunshots was still deeply rooted in your brain. It hadn’t even been three days.

The old wooden door creaked open, and your brother's face appeared, bright blue eyes wide with concern. He rushed to your side, pulling you into a tight embrace nearly knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Holy shit,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “Holy shit.”

You clung to him, the dam breaking as tears streamed down your face. The sobs wracked your body as JJ held you like you used to hold him. It devastated you. It felt so disappointing. He was never supposed to be the one carrying the family burden, you were. After what felt like an eternity, you pulled back, wiping your tears. Your brother sat beside you, his eyes searching your face.

“You’re not hurt?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words, but all you managed to blurt out was a small “No. You?”

“No,” JJ nodded, lips pursed into a tight line as if he was figuring out what to say next, “They told me about the shooting.”

Your heart sank further at his words. You had hoped to avoid talking about it, at least for a little while. But he was watching you like he used to when you would act as a human shield for him, you couldn't brush it aside.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You reached out and squeezed his hand. "What about you? How did you get off that island?"

JJ let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“It was a mess. We were stuck there for weeks, trying to find a way out. Pope and Kie kept us sane, but it was rough. We finally managed to signal a passing boat, and they rescued us. But the whole time, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

You squeezed his hand tighter, guilt and gratitude warring within you.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry, JJ."

He shook his head vehemently. "No, don't apologize. None of this is your fault. I—I should’ve saved you on that ship, okay? It’s on me, not you.”

You’d cry again if you didn’t feel like your body was about to collapse, “You did everything you could. We both did. It's not your fault."

“The one time we changed places, and I couldn’t do it.”

"Jay—"

"I should have been there for you," He insisted, "I hated it."

It was your fault, not his. You pulled him into another hug, trying to convey with your touch what words couldn't express. The weight of your shared guilt and pain was almost suffocating, but at least you were together. You felt his body shaking, whether, from exhaustion or emotion, you couldn't tell.

When you finally let go, you took a deep breath, hoping to find some semblance of strength.

"We’re gonna be okay.”

JJ nodded, though you could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. "I know. It's just... hard."

"I get it. But we're both here, we're alive.”

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, it was a fragile peace, but it was something. The familiar sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside the window was a reminder that life continued, even when it felt like your world had stopped.

"Do you think things will ever go back to normal?" JJ's voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

If he only knew. The one time you managed to close your eyes and sleep you were plagued by nightmares of JJ finding out what you’d done. About you and Rafe. It made you want to scratch your skin raw.

“Yeah.”

You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, a mirror of your own fatigue. You knew you both needed rest, but the thought of sleep was daunting. The nightmares felt too close, the darkness too suffocating.

"Let's try to get some sleep," You suggested softly, though you weren't sure you could follow your own advice. "We both need it, ‘kay?”

JJ nodded, but you could see the wariness in his eyes. He laid down next to you, the bed barely accommodating the both of you.

As you both settled in, the familiar warmth of his presence was a small comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you were still here together.

The minutes ticked by in silence, the only sound being the rhythmic crashing of the waves outside. You focused on that, letting it be your anchor. Slowly, the tension in your body started to ease, the weight of the day’s events beginning to lift, even if just a little.

"Do you remember the first time we went out on the boat alone?" JJ's voice was a whisper in the darkness, a fragile thread connecting the past to the present.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "Yeah. You insisted you knew how to steer, and we almost ended up crashing into that sandbank."

He chuckled softly. "We were so scared. But you figured it out. You always did."

The memory was a bittersweet reminder of simpler times, a time when your biggest worry was navigating the boat, not navigating the chaos your lives had become. When you weren’t a complete fuck up.

Exhaustion finally began to overtake you, your eyes growing heavy. JJ's breathing evened out beside you, a comforting rhythm that lulled you closer to sleep. You wanted to tell him everything, but you couldn’t. Not without losing him in the process.

Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it was deep and dreamless. Completely void, much like yourself these days.

Morning came too soon, sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow over the room.

You blinked awake, disoriented for a moment before the events of the past days came rushing back. JJ was still asleep beside you, his face peaceful in repose.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake him. The officer who comforted you after the shooting promised to call as soon as he got an update on Rafe’s condition. And so far? No call.

You wondered if the hospital or the police had contacted Sarah. She was Rafe’s closest family, aside from Wheezie who was still a kid, and Ward who was a sought-out criminal. It made sense that they would reach out to her.

If you rang the hospital, they wouldn’t disclose a thing, you weren’t family, and it wasn’t like you could ask Sarah. She would know something was wrong the moment you asked about Rafe. It was risky.

The kitchen felt eerily quiet, the early morning light casting long shadows on the walls. You made yourself a cup of coffee, the warmth a small comfort against the chill that had settled in your bones.

Sitting at the table, you sipped slowly, trying to come up with some sort of tangible plan. You wanted to know if he was okay, needed to know, but every option seemed fraught with risk.

Your new phone buzzed on the table, jolting you from your thoughts.

You picked it up, heart pounding as you saw an unknown number flashing on the screen. You hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?”

“This is Officer Thompson. I promised I’d keep you updated on Rafe Cameron’s condition.”

You closed your eyes, thanking God for finally giving you some piece of mind, “Yes, thank you.”

“He’s stable,” Officer Thompson continued. “The surgery went well, and he’s in recovery. It’ll be a while before he’s fully back on his feet, but he’s out of immediate danger.”

The knot in your stomach loosened slightly. “Thank you for letting me know.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“I know this is difficult, but you should focus on your own recovery too. There’s a chance the feds will contact you, they’re building their case on Ward. What happened to you is, unfortunately, considered a minor crime compared to everything he’s done, so maybe you’ll get some peace. If not, you might have to testify against him.”

The idea of having to testify against Ward made you uncomfortable to no end. Reliving those moments in front of a courtroom full of strangers seemed unbearable.

“And Rafe? What are his charges?”

"He’s facing several charges, but the severity of his sentence could depend on his cooperation. If he agrees to testify against his father, the authorities might offer him a deal."

A deal. It was a slim chance, but it was something. You hated yourself for the weight that left your shoulders. He should be locked up, you knew that, back then you prayed for the day he paid for what he did and yet here you were, holding on to any possibility of freedom.

You thanked Officer Thompson again and ended the call, setting your phone down with a shaky hand. The coffee had grown cold, but you didn't have the energy to make another cup. You sat there for a long moment, staring into space, trying to gather your thoughts.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, and you turned to see JJ standing in the doorway, his hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Who was that?” He asked, his voice still groggy.

“Uh—Officer Thompson. He was at the scene the other day and told me he’d keep me updated.”

JJ tilted his head, his messy bed hair following suit, “Updated on what?”

“Rafe’s condition,” You replied, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. It was a half-lie. At least you were giving him something.

JJ stopped in his tracks, “And you care because…?”

“For closure, I guess.”

JJ’s gaze softened slightly as he walked over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting across from you.

“You’re too good, y’know that? Personally, I don’t give a fuck if he dies.”

You winced inwardly. "JJ, you can't just say stuff like that.”

He leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed. "Why not? After everything he’s done, he deserves whatever he gets."

You couldn't argue with that, but part of you still felt the need to defend Rafe. He saved your life.

“He’s still a human being, okay?”

JJ scoffed, shaking his head. "Barely.”

You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so angry, so defensive. But it made its way up your body until your lips were moving again, practically spitting the words out.

“He saved my life.”

Your brother stared at you like you were speaking another language, “Saved your life? Are you serious? It’s his fault you were there in the first place!”

“He chose to help me. And I can't just forget that."

JJ ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

"This is insane. One good deed doesn't erase all the bad he's done."

You reached for his back, “I know that.”

He pulled away from your touch, your fingers only brushing against his shirt, “Do you?”

His retreat felt like a knife to your heart. JJ had always been your rock, the one person you could count on. Seeing him look at you with such disbelief and anger made you feel more isolated than ever. He looked at you like you’d imagined in your nightmares, but the real thing felt ten times worse.

"I’m not saying he’s a good person. I’m just saying… it’s complicated."

He paced around the kitchen table.

"It's not sympathy," You insisted, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay collected. You never raised your voice at him. "It's just... I don't know. I saw a different side of him. Maybe he can change. Or at least help put Ward away."

JJ stopped and spun around to face you, his eyes blazing. "And what if he doesn't? What if this is all part of some twisted game for him? People like Rafe don't just change, okay? They manipulate, they hurt, they destroy."

“JJ—"

“You sound exactly like her.”

You didn’t have to ask to know what he meant. Suddenly your entire soul felt like it was being drained out and slashed into pieces.

You spent a lifetime hearing it, from Luke.

A carbon copy of your mother, your punishment.

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s exactly the type of bullshit she would spit out about dad, wasn’t it? And look where it got her.”

Memories of your mother flooded back. The excuses, the false hope, and the endless cycle of pain and disappointment. You weren’t her, were you? Holding out for a man who was never going to change, who would only inflict pain upon your life? It couldn’t be. You spent your entire life making sure you were nothing like her.

It wasn’t fair.

You weren’t making excuses for Rafe as your mother did for Luke. You were just trying to find a shred of humanity in someone who had shown you a glimpse of it. You stood there, feeling the weight of his accusation like a leaden cloak.

How could he think you were blind to Rafe’s faults? You knew them all too well. Standing there in the kitchen, under the harsh morning light, you felt exposed, vulnerable, and fiercely defensive.

“I’m not her,” You finally managed to say, your voice cracking, “I’m not defending him like she did.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “I’m not doing this with you, not right now.”

You turned away, your fists clenched at your sides as you fought to regain your composure.

He followed you hot on your trail, "Don't walk away from me.”

"I'm not defending him," You insisted, your back still to him, “I’m just trying to understand, okay?”

“Understand what? Jesus, Rafe is who he is.”

"And maybe he can change," You shot back, the words spilling out despite the tightening knot in your chest. "Maybe he saved my life because he wants to change."

"He's manipulating you," JJ retorted, his jaw clenched. "Just like he always does. You went through some traumatic shit together, but that doesn't mean you owe him anything."

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to face him again. Your head was tingling, the headache already forming itself, and you felt hot all-over.

“Some traumatic shit?” You repeated, “Are you fucking serious?”

JJ raised both his hands, tangling them in his hair in frustration, “You almost died, and now you're here defending the guy who put you in that position?"

The accusation stung. You felt the heat rise in your chest. You hated fighting with your brother. You were letting your feelings for Rafe get between the two of you.

He shook his head, disappointment oozing from him in waves, "Good luck with that. Just don't expect me to sit here and act like everything's okay."

You blinked away the dryness in your eyes, "I'm not asking you to. Can't you see that maybe things aren't as black and white as they seem?"

“All I know is what he's done to us, to you."

"And what about what he did for me?" You shot back, the words bitter on your tongue.

“And what did he do exactly?" Your lips parted to speak, but words continued to spill from his mouth, “What did you do?”

You gave no reply, unblinking, short breaths escaping you. His accusation lingered in the air, challenging you to defend the indefensible. The truth was there, clawing at your mind, but you couldn't bring yourself to voice it.

Not to JJ, not yet.

"I don't expect you to understand," You finally said, voice strained, "But I’m not turning my back on him.”

JJ's eyes narrowed; frustration etched on his face. "Why?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to evaporate. For a moment, the kitchen was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing and the instant regret that filled your bones.

Finally, JJ spoke, his voice low and strained. "Fine. Do what you want."

You watched as he turned away, his shoulders tense with anger or disappointment – perhaps both. His footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet kitchen as he stormed out, leaving you standing there, feeling raw and exposed. It was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him, and the aftermath left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Alone in the kitchen, you sank into your chair again, your energy completely drained. Part of you wanted to run after him, to explain, to make him understand. But he never would. None of them would.

Because unlike you, they weren’t stupid enough to sympathize with Rafe Cameron.

Sitting there, you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd crossed a line, one you might not be able to uncross. You stared at your hands, still trembling from the argument, and let out a long, shaky breath. What was it about Rafe that had such a grip on you?

You heard the front door open and close, a clear sign that JJ had left the house. Maybe it was for the best, giving you both time to cool down. You got up to pour the coffee down the sink, the sound of the liquid swirling away a tiny comfort.

You spent the entire day locked away in your room, avoiding any kind of social interaction, or the sun. Your phone buzzed again, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it.

You picked it up, expecting another call from Officer Thompson, but the name on the screen made your heart skip a beat.

Sarah.

With a deep breath, you answered. “Hey sweets.”

“Hi,” Sarah’s voice was almost unsure. “JJ and the police called earlier, told us what happened. Are you okay? I’m on the mainland with John B, we’re taking the next ferry back home.”

You closed your eyes, somewhat relieved that you wouldn’t have to face them yet.

“Yeah, I’m…Managing. I'm okay.”

“Good, that’s good,” There was a pause, and then she asked, “Have you heard anything about...Rafe?”

Had the hospital not called her? The question hung in the air. You had, but you didn’t know how much to share.

“He’s stable. The surgery went well.”

Sarah sighed, “Good. That’s good to hear I guess.”

“Sarah,” You began, hesitating. “Did the hospital call you?”

There was a long silence on the other end before she replied, “Yeah. But I…I don’t know. I just couldn’t bring myself to answer. I knew it was coming after the police called. But—Yeah, it’s just, it’s really hard.”

You didn’t know what to say, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re the only one not giving me shit about still…caring? I guess. He’s my brother, you know? And I want to hate him, so bad, but I can’t.”

"I get it, Sarah. He's your brother. It's okay to feel conflicted."

"Yeah," She exhaled heavily, "But I don't know how to deal with it. He's done so much harm, and yet. I keep hoping there's still some good left in him. I know there's no hope for my dad, but Rafe..."

She had seen him before Ward turned him into this. She still carried the guilt of reveling in their father’s approval, the clear favoritism that she never stood against for her brother, even though she could see her father’s fingers printed on Rafe’s cheeks.

Her words echoed your inner struggle. You understood her—how love and hate could coexist in such a tangled mess when it came to family.

“He was good to me.”

There was a long pause.

You expected her to hang up on you, to call you a list of degrading names, all of which you felt you deserved. She had suffered deeply at the hands of her brother— the same brother you had come to care for, despite knowing the full extent of what he’d done.

But you underestimated her.

Caught between your own anxiety and the dread of truth being exposed, you momentarily forgot just how compassionate and noble Sarah was. She possessed a goodness that mirrored your own—loyal, forgiving, and endlessly understanding.

Both lovers and fighters.

"I know, the feds told me about the shooting," Sarah finally said, "And I think that's what makes it so hard. Picturing him as the same monster from before was a lot easier.”

You nodded even though she couldn't see you, feeling a deep ache in your chest. "Yeah."

"I don't know what to do," She confessed, her vulnerability cutting through the distance between you. "Part of me wants to see him, to talk to him. And part of me wants to never look at him again."

"I think... whatever you decide, it's okay," You offered tentatively, not entirely sure if your words were comforting or just empty platitudes.

“John B disagrees.”

“Yeah, so does JJ.”

"I appreciate you telling me about Rafe," Sarah continued, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. "I... I don't think I could have handled hearing it from anyone else."

You felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry you had to hear it like this, sweetheart. I wish things were different."

"We all do," she replied softly. "Thank you.”

“Of course," You said, "Take care of yourself.”

"You too. We'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah. See you soon."

The call ended, and you stared at your phone for a long moment, the screen dark and lifeless, much like yourself lately.

You spent the next few days in a haze, avoiding JJ and the rest of your friends as much as possible. You’d only seen Sarah. Somehow her presence didn’t make you feel as nervous as you thought. It weirdly calmed you down. You’d always been close, ever since she joined the group, but now you felt like she was the only one who understood your point of view.

You knew Pope and Kie wouldn’t, and you couldn’t blame them.

The small house felt like a prison. It wasn’t until a week later, as you sat on the beach watching the waves crash against the shore, that your phone buzzed with a message. It was the officer: "Rafe’s awake."

Your heart leaped into your throat. You still hadn’t told anyone the full extent of what had happened between you and him, and you weren’t sure you ever could. They knew he was in the hospital, that you two had gotten caught in a shooting, that he’d somehow saved your life. That was it. But now, with him awake…You didn’t know what to do.

With trembling hands, you dialed the number the officer had provided. After a few rings, someone answered.

"Hello, this is St. Michael Hospital. How can I help you?"

You snap out of your daze, "Hi, I'm calling to check on a patient, Rafe Cameron. I was told he’s awake."

There was a pause, the sound of keyboard keys clicking. "Yes, Mr. Cameron is awake. Are you a family member?"

“No. Uh, a friend, I guess—” You were about to ramble, not too certain of what to say, but settled for, “Can you tell him Maybank’s calling?”

“Okay, just a minute please.”

The hold music was the only thing keeping you centered on the moment, each note heightening your anxiety. When the nurse returned, her tone was pitiful, and you knew then that you weren’t going to like her answer.

"I’m sorry. Mr. Cameron has requested not to speak with you," she said. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

You wanted to hurl the phone into the ocean, plunge your head underwater, and only resurface when the ringing in your ears ceased.

What the hell?

You had spent weeks on edge, consumed by thoughts of him, hoping he would survive, praying for him despite not believing in that sort of thing. You didn't have it in you to put up a fight.

"No, that's all. Thank you." You ended the call and stared at your phone.

Rafe didn’t want to speak with you.

You felt foolish, as if you were just now glimpsing the bigger picture and recognizing that maybe he didn’t care after all. Perhaps, on the island, you were the one thing keeping him grounded, but now? Now you were back to being a nobody, just a pogue.

It felt like everything you had shared was for nothing.

Had you imagined it? No, you knew you hadn’t.

Rafe had kissed you and touched you with the tenderness of a lover, as if you were precious and any rough movement might break you.

The moments you had shared, the way he had saved your life—maybe they didn’t mean as much to him as they did to you. The bond you thought you had formed with Rafe was, perhaps, a desperate attempt to find something good in the chaos.

The waves crashed against the shore, the sound a distant roar as you sat on the sand, a storm brewing inside. You tried to hold it together, to keep the facade of normalcy for a little longer, but it was getting harder with each passing day. This felt like it was the final straw.

Without warning, a scream ripped from your throat, raw and unfiltered. It echoed across the empty beach, a primal release of everything you had been bottling up.

The anger, the confusion, the hurt—it all came pouring out in that one moment. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the salty sea breeze.

You hadn’t cried properly in weeks.

You screamed until your throat was raw, until you had nothing left to give. The sun cast long shadows on the sand, the beach deserted except for you. Collapsing back onto the sand, you let the tears flow freely.

There was no one to judge you, no one to see you fall apart. You’d spent a lifetime pulling yourself together, it was only fair you finally got to breathe properly. When the tears subsided, you wiped your face with the back of your hand and took a shuddering breath. The tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by a hollow ache.

You were many things, but none of them were weak and yet...It was almost unbearable, the way your mind replayed every interaction, every look, every word, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that would have warned you not to get attached.

The sound of footsteps in the sand pulled you from your thoughts.

You turned to see JJ approaching. Your heart sank; you weren’t ready to face him after the argument. He sat down next to you, silent for a moment as he followed your gaze out to the horizon.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you expected.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry for what I said about Mom,” he continued, his tone filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have compared you to her. That wasn’t fair.”

You swallowed hard, the tension easing slightly from your shoulders. “It’s okay, JJ. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I did, and I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just... I don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t trust him, and I hate that you’ve been caught up in all this.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

He glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

“I called the hospital. They said he’s awake, but he doesn’t want to speak with me.”

Your brother frowned, his protective instincts flaring up. “That fucking asshole. After everything—”

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. “Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he’s right.”

JJ’s expression softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, trying to believe his words. “I just... I thought there was more to it. That maybe he could change.”

“People like Rafe... it’s hard to change.”

“Yeah.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for wanting to see the good in him.”

He spoke with such gentleness and wisdom. You forgot he wasn’t a kid anymore. That he’d also done his fair share of growing up way too fast.

You leaned into his touch, “I know.”

“We’ll get through this,” JJ said firmly. “Together. You and me, like always.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the beach, you and JJ sat there in silence. The waves continued to crash against the shore, a reminder that life moved forward, even when it felt like everything was falling apart.

Maybe things would never go back to the way they were, but you had your brother, your friends, and a resilience you hadn’t known you possessed.

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Six months had passed since that day.

Life had settled into a fragile semblance of normalcy. The days were longer now, summer heat pressing down on The Cut, making the air thick and heavy. You had spent the afternoon alone, lounging in the living room with a half-read book and a broken fan that did little to ease the stifling heat.

You were lost in your book when a loud, insistent banging on the door jolted you from your reverie. Few people would knock with such urgency.

The forceful banging on the door didn’t stop and you jolted upright.

Without thinking, you got up and flung the door open, irritation flaring. "What the f—"

Your words caught in your throat as you saw him standing there.

"Rafe?" You blurted out. You immediately tried to close the door in his face, but he was quick. His hand shot out, holding it open, "Are you kidding me?" You hissed, pushing harder against the door.

"Maybank—"

"If you don't get off my property, I swear to fucking God—"

"Wait!" Rafe's voice was strained, his hand trembling as he held the door open. "Just listen for a second."

You glared at him, every instinct telling you to push harder, to shut him out. But something in his eyes—fear, desperation, a flicker of the Rafe you once knew—gave you pause.

The last time you saw him, he was bleeding out and terrifyingly pale.

The last update you had on him was from Sarah, months ago. He had left the hospital and kept sporadic contact, reaching out to her only every few weeks.

You never asked her about his well-being or what he was doing; despite guessing that he was cooperating with the police. At least you hoped he was.

You were determined not to care anymore.

He leaned his weight against the doorframe, “You look good.”

You were going to slap the lack of common sense out of him.

You scoffed, not letting your guard down. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down, struggling to find the words as he scratched the back of his head, “I... I needed to see you. To talk.”

“And I need you to crawl back to whatever hole you just creeped out of, have a good day.”

You tried to push the door shut again, but his grip tightened. “Please, just give me a minute.”

“You had six months.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was— It’s messed up, okay? I’m still working with the feds. I was losing it. Still am, probably. But I need to explain. Please, Maybank, just a minute.”

You hesitated the anger and hurt battling against the small, lingering part of you that still cared.

Finally, you stepped back, letting the door open just enough for him to enter.

“Talk,” you said, your voice icy.

Rafe stepped inside, looking around your small living room as if seeing it for the first time, which you now realized he'd never been in your house.

He turned to face you, his expression earnest. “I didn’t know what to say. I felt—“, He took a deep breath, cheeks puffing, “Ashamed. I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, keeping a safe distance between you.

“Ashamed? You’ve done a lot of things to be ashamed of. You can’t just show up after six months and expect everything to be fine.”

“I know,” He admitted, taking a deliberate small step closer to you, “I wasn’t expecting that. I just... I wanted to tell you that I’m trying. I’m in therapy and rehab, trying to get clean. I’ve been going to meetings. It’s been hell, but I’m trying.”

You looked at him, searching for any sign of deceit. His eyes were clear, more focused than you had ever seen them. “Why should I believe you?”

He took a deep breath, visibly struggling to find the right words.

“Because you’re the only person who ever saw anything good in me. And I can’t forget that. I don’t deserve it, but I need you to know that your faith in me wasn’t for nothing.”

The vulnerability in his voice took you by surprise. You had expected anger, arrogance, manipulation—but this was different. Genuine. It felt like you were back in that motel room, in his arms.

You let out a scoff, focusing your gaze on the couch you were just resting on, as you shifted your weight on your feet. “Is that all?”

Rafe's eyes darted to the floor, “No, it’s not all. I just—Shit. I need to make things right. With you. I don’t know how, but I need to try.”

You took a deep breath.

Part of you wanted to believe him, to give him another chance, but the other part of you—the part that had been hurt and abandoned—was screaming not to fall for it again.

“You didn’t even want to talk to me when you woke up.”

He looked up, guilt etched across his features. “I didn’t know how to face you after everything that happened. I was a mess.”

“So you shut me out?” You snapped, “You made me feel like I meant nothing.”

“That’s not true,” He snapped back, head whipping up, then immediately softened his tone, taking another step closer. “That’s not true. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I was getting better for you."

“Don’t lie to me.”

Rafe looked offended, eyes zeroing in on your lips before his gaze met yours. That's when you felt it again, “I never lied to you.”

“Cameron.”

Another step closer. His eyes pleading with you to understand.

You were staring up at him now, the look on your face completely unreadable. You were waiting for an answer, but he had a feeling that no matter what answer he gave, it wouldn't make a difference.

"I never lied to you," He repeated, his voice shaking slightly. "I was scared and confused, but I never lied.”

You felt your anger rising again, every muscle in your body tensing as you tried to keep control. “Scared and confused? That’s your excuse?”

Rafe flinched at your words, but he didn't back down. “I know how it sounds. I handled it all wrong. I’m trying to fix it.”

“You think saying sorry and showing up out of the blue makes it better? It doesn't erase the months of silence.”

His hands reached out, his palms open as if he was dealing with a wounded animal. “I’m not asking for forgiveness right away. I just want a chance to make things right.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You spat, your voice trembling with emotion, “How it felt, watching you almost die. I spent days wondering if you were going to be—”

You stopped yourself, knowing that if you continued your voice would crack and the tears would start pouring down your cheeks.

You already cried enough for him.

Rafe’s expression softened, and he reached out tentatively, his hand stopping inches from your arm. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You took a step back, putting more distance between you, needing the space to think clearly. “I needed you to be sorry six months ago.”

It’s only then, when your brain cleared slightly that you noticed he looked different. His hair had been buzzed, his skin looked tanner than the last time you’d seen him, he looked healthier.

Rafe noticed your eyes wandering to his head and ran a hand through his short hair, a hint of a self-conscious smile flickering across his lips. “Yeah, I uh, made some changes. Trying to start over, I guess.”

You nodded slightly, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice steadier now.

“I’m happy for you, but I can’t do this.”

“Pretty—"

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you cut him off, “I feel guilty enough as it is around everyone else.”

“I told Sarah.”

His words hit you like a punch to your gut.

“What?”

“About us.”

You felt your stomach drop and your vision narrow, the world tilting sideways as the reality of what he just said sank in. “You what?”

“I told her.”

“You absolute fucking—” You hissed, your voice rising without warning, “Are you serious?!”

“I thought it was the right thing to do,” His tone faltered to one that could’ve fallen on deaf ears if not attentive enough. “I needed someone to talk to, and she’s…my sister.”

“You thought it was the right thing to do?” You were shouting now, unable to contain your anger. “You think spilling everything to Sarah was the right thing to do? Did you ever consider how that might affect me? Or her?”

Rafe flinched, taking a step back. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Of course you didn’t,” You nearly growled, pacing the small living room. “You never think about anyone but yourself, do you?”

“Listen— “ He opened his mouth undoubtedly to fire back with another half-assed apology - but you barreled forward, letting the months of bottled resentment continue to burst open.

“You’re so selfish.”

“She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone,” His throat bobbed in an audible gulp, “It’s okay.”

“You really believe that?” You stopped pacing and turned to face him, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “This is too much for her to keep to herself. It’ll eat away at her until she tells someone. And when that happens, my life here is over.”

Rafe looked stricken, his face pale. “I just—I needed someone to understand what I’m going through.”

For the first time, he took the time to explain what was going on in his head instead of letting his frustrations take over and kissing you.

“And what about what I’m going through?” You demanded. “Did you ever stop to think about that? I’ve been trying to move on, to rebuild my life, and you just waltz back in and blow everything up.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You spotted his sun-kissed freckles. They wouldn’t be noticeable if you hadn’t looked at him so closely before.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” Bitterness began to overpower the pit of your heaving chest, “Sorry doesn’t make it go away. You can’t just undo what you’ve done.”

“I know,” One shaky hand scrubbed over his face, refusing to meet your wide-eyed stare., “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I swear.”

“Make it right? You can’t make this right, Rafe.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m trying, pretty. I really am.”

You felt a smidge of sympathy despite your anger. You could see the pain and desperation in his eyes, the same pain and desperation you had felt for the past six months. But that didn’t change the fact that he left you hanging for so long.

“I need you to leave,” you said finally, your voice cold and distant.

You expected him to put up a fight, to lash out, hide his emotions with empty threats and petty names. But he didn’t.

Instead, he nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to leave. You watched him go in silence.

Part of you wanted to run after him, to give him another chance, to believe that he could change. But another part—the part that had been wounded and left to heal on its own—knew that it wasn’t that simple.

You had to protect yourself, even if it meant shutting him out for good.

Rafe paused in the doorway, his back to you. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried clearly through the thick air. "I don’t regret it," he repeated, his shoulders tensing as he spoke.

You blinked, taken aback. "What?"

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the raw honesty in his eyes. "I don’t regret what happened. Between us. I regret how I handled it, how I hurt you, but I don’t regret feeling something real for once."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the suffocating heat seemed to dissipate, replaced by a cold clarity. You crossed your arms tighter around yourself, trying to hold onto your anger, your resolve. But his words had hit a nerve, bringing back memories you’d tried so hard to bury.

You looked away, unable to look at him, "It doesn’t change anything."

"I know.”

With that, he turned and walked out the door, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you standing there. The room felt emptier than it hand in months as you leaned your forehead against the cool wood over the door.

You pushed away from the door, needing something to distract yourself.

You picked up your book, but the words blurred on the page. You tossed it aside, your thoughts too chaotic to focus. Instead, you paced the small living room, replaying the conversation in your mind.

You eventually collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. You did the right thing, so why did it hurt so bad?

You felt like a wound had been reopened, and you hated him for it.

But you hated yourself more for letting him get to you. The hours dragged on, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows through the windows. You tried to lose yourself in anything—TV, reading, cleaning—but nothing could shake the gnawing feeling of unresolved problems that clung to you.

You only saw Rafe's face, his desperate eyes, his trembling hands.

You remembered the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice when he was vulnerable. The memories were too real, too persistent. You couldn't bring yourself to explain it to yourself. Your eyes begin to itch, warning you to think of something else.

Anything else but Rafe.

Was this heartbreak? No—it couldn't be.

You weren't in love with Rafe Cameron.

At least, you didn't think you were.

You had never allowed yourself to consider it, to dwell on what you felt for him. But now, in the stillness of your small living room…it was different. You never had a good parental figure to teach you these things.

All you knew was destruction, violence, and heartbreak. And although you’d done pretty well for yourself, all things considered, this was new to you.

The thought hit you like a tidal wave, overwhelming and inescapable.

You were in love with Rafe Cameron.

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

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solxamber · 23 hours ago

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HEHEHGIGUGI ITS ME AGAIN THE SERAPHIM AND THE CAT ONE

Can i request a witch reader with Vil, Rook, Trey, and Malleus!! (I forgot if its 4 limits or 5, whoops but only that) You can write however you like if its headcannon or how you write it!! Also can you do it on Romantic shshsh‼️‼️🫶🫶

Rook, Trey, Malleus, Vil with a Witch! Reader

hi! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3 (also there aren't limits for number of characters)

Rook Hunt

Rook, a true romantic and ever-curious soul, is constantly mesmerized by your craft. He adores watching you work, fascinated by every detail, and often appears just as you’re about to cast a spell, like he knows exactly when something extraordinary is about to happen.

One evening, he surprises you mid-ritual, leaning in to whisper, “Ah, the witch at work, casting beauty into the world.”

“Rook!” you laugh, a little flustered. “Aren’t you supposed to give me space to concentrate?”

“On the contrary,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Watching you brings me closer to the divine. It’s as if each spell you cast is an invitation to witness your heart.”

As he speaks, he presses a kiss to your hand, his words a spell of their own. You find yourself captivated by the unique magic only Rook can create—a blend of curiosity, charm, and unshakable devotion.

Trey Clover

Trey is both grounded and warm, and he respects your magical abilities without a hint of fear. Whenever you experiment with potion-making, he’s your quiet supporter, ready with any ingredient you need.

One evening, you’re preparing a special love potion—just for fun—and Trey chuckles as you explain the recipe.

“What, you don’t believe in love potions?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I believe,” he replies, pulling a stray leaf from your hair, “but I don’t think you need one. You’ve already cast your spell on me.”

You feel your face heat up, but Trey simply smiles, his gaze gentle and warm. He reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Let’s skip the potions,” he says softly. “You and I don’t need magic for this.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is captivated by your magic, drawn to you as if he’s known you for centuries. He’s endlessly curious about your spells, often standing nearby as you perform them, his eyes watching with reverence.

One misty evening, he finds you crafting a charm under the moonlight. As you finish, Malleus steps forward, his expression unusually soft. “Your magic… it has a warmth that even my fae spells lack.”

“You flatter me, Malleus,” you reply, smiling up at him. “I’m honored to have caught the attention of someone so powerful.”

He takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles with an old-world elegance. “Power means little to me if it cannot protect what is precious.” His gaze is intense, holding yours. “And you, my dear witch, are precious indeed.”

Under the stars, Malleus’s words hang in the air, leaving a warmth that feels like it could last an eternity.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil has always been enchanted by beauty in its many forms, but there's something about your magic that captivates him in a way he never expected. He watches you as you work, studying your movements as if each one were part of an intricate dance. One evening, he finds you under the warm glow of candlelight, carefully crafting an enchantment, your hands moving gracefully over the ingredients.

He steps closer, his voice smooth and gentle. “Do you realize the spell you’ve woven on me without even trying?” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on you.

You smile, slightly flustered but intrigued. “I could say the same about you, Vil.”

Vil reaches for your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Then perhaps I’ve found the magic that surpasses any potion, any spell.” His gaze is intense, unwavering, as if he’s seeing right through to your soul. “Stay close to me, won’t you?” he asks softly, the hint of vulnerability in his words surprising but endearing.

With a smile, you nod, finding comfort in his presence. Vil leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his touch gentle and reverent. “You’re more captivating than any beauty I’ve ever known,” he whispers, his voice filled with a sincerity that leaves your heart racing.

In that quiet moment, it’s clear that he isn’t just drawn to your magic—he’s drawn to you.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #trey clover x reader #trey x reader

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misaerabl · 3 days ago

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"Take it like a taker, Cause baby I'm a giver"

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE

Farmer!Ellie X F!Reader (from this prompt)

Minors and Men DNI! word count : 2.4k words

SUMMARY: after a breakup, you find yourself sulking at a town gathering, trying to dodge the relentless pity of those around you. ellie approaches with a teasing grin that cuts through your gloom. what starts with lighthearted teasing unfolds into an intimate encounter that leaves you realizing ellie makes you feel in ways no man ever has. (Inspired by The Giver by Chappell Roan)

WARNINGS/Contains Adult Language: smut with some plot, smoking weed, fucking outside, bottom r, stone top e, e calling r princess, baby, eating out (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), also idk how to write in a southern accent so pls just imagine lol

A/N: soooo, this is my first smut on this account. I've been working on this for 2 days and I'm publishing this while on the way to a resort lol. I hope you enjoy it, please inform me if I miss any warnings! ALSO THIS ISN'T PROOFREAD

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

You sit alone at the table, the one you’d helped your parents set up earlier, surrounded by the dull hum of voices and clinking glasses. Everyone at the gathering knows about the breakup, and one by one, they stop by to offer their condolences, each making the sting more unbearable.

An older woman pauses beside you, clutching her chest with dramatic flair as if she could feel every ounce of your pain. You force a tight smile, but it's clear she’s milking the moment for all it's worth.

A beer bottle, half-empty, rolls toward your feet, breaking the uncomfortable tension. You nudge it away with a light kick, and it rolls until it stops at someone’s scuffed Converse. You’d recognize those shoes anywhere. You look up and meet the familiar eyes of Ellie Williams, who lives a few farms over with her parents. She’s leaning against a post, the same mischievous grin on her face that she had when you first met at Joel Miller’s farm during a community gathering your parents had dragged you to. Even then, she stood apart, a little defiant, too cool for small talk.

She raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So, third time aint the charm, huh? Don’t worry—maybe you’re just warming up for the main event.” She winks, the teasing tone in her voice pulling a real smile from you for the first time that night.

You roll your eyes, smirking back. “What? are you going to suggest I date your brother next? Cause he’s such a ‘nice guy’,” you say, making air quotes.

Ellie laughs, the sound rough and genuine. “Oh, hell no,” she says, shaking her head. “I was thinking more along the lines of gettin out of this circus. What d'ya say?”

The thought of escaping, even for just a little while, tugs at you. You nod, your smile growing.

She holds out her hand. “Come on, before someone else comes over to tell you how ‘brave’ you are.”

You hesitate for a moment, then take her hand. She leads you around the back of the house, past the clinking bottles and the laughter, until you reach the quiet of the horse stables. The night air is crisp, and it smells faintly of hay and earth. You both settle down on the cool ground, a silence stretching between you that feels oddly comforting.

Ellie pulls something from her pocket—a slim joint. She catches your raised eyebrow and grins. “What? You didn’t think I’d come empty-handed, did you? Best remedy for a breakup.”

You snort, half in amusement and half in disbelief. “Is that… weed?”

“Only the best,” she says, smirking as she lights it. She takes a slow drag before holding it out to you, eyes twinkling with challenge.

You glance at the joint, then back at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never smoked before,” she teases, nudging it toward you.

You haven’t, but tonight feels like a night for firsts. You take it, trying to act casual, and inhale—too deeply, it turns out. You’re soon doubled over, coughing hard enough to make your eyes water.

Ellie bursts into laughter, a sound so infectious you can’t help but join in between coughs. “Okay, not quite like that,” she says, patting your back. “But hey, first time for everything, right?”

“Clearly,” you wheeze, handing it back and shaking your head as you catch your breath.

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence. Ellie flicks the joint away, watching it fizzle out on the ground. The distant stars seem brighter out here, and you find yourself staring at them until she speaks.

“You’re pretty, y’ know that?” Ellie’s voice is softer now, her gaze meeting yours. “He was an asshole, anyway.”

A short laugh escapes you, rough but sincere. “Yeah, I’m not even sad ‘bout him. I don’t know why everyone thinks I am. I hated the guy and didn’t try to hide it. Fuck he was so bad in bed like the rest of ‘em.”

She nods knowingly, a smirk tugging at her lips. “People love a good breakup story. Makes them feel included in the drama.”

You roll your eyes, the last bit of tension slipping away. “Too bad I’m not giving them the heartbreak they want.”

Ellie nudges your shoulder, the touch light but grounding. “But I do meant it,” she says, a serious edge to her tone. “You’re pretty.”

You meet her eyes, and something shifts in the quiet between you. The world around you fades out, leaving just the two of you under the stars. Without thinking, you lean in, your hand lifting to cup her cheek.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, but the moment your lips touch, a rush of warmth spreads through you, making everything else feel distant. When you pull back, the air feels charged, like you’ve stepped into something unfamiliar but right.

Ellie’s eyes widen slightly, then curve with a grin. “You like me that much already, princess?” Her voice is teasing, but there’s a softness to it, a vulnerability that wasn’t there before.

A blush warms your cheeks, and you look away with a laugh. “Maybe I do,” you admit, the words surprising you.

Ellie tilts her head, her grin shifting into something deeper, more genuine. “You know how long I’ve been wantin to make a move on you?” she whispers, her voice low, a secret just for the two of you.

Before you can respond, she leans in, closing the distance in a heartbeat. The kiss this time isn’t hesitant or testing—it’s sure, carrying the weight of all those moments neither of you spoke of. Her hand finds the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as the world around you blurs out of focus.

There’s a rush, a quickening of everything—your heartbeat, your breath, the feeling of her lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency. It’s like all the time she’d spent holding back is now pouring into this one moment, and you match her, letting yourself fall into it.

“Fuck I can’t take it anymore princess…” Ellie pushes herself back before straddling you on the ground. She lifts your shirt and kisses your collarbone, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

You take off your shirt and toss it aside. Seeing the stupid smile Ellie had on her face when you did made your stomach whirl. She reaches behind and unhooks your bra, fully exposing yourself to her.

You start to unbutton her shirt, she was wearing a wife beater underneath it which made you frown.

She notices it and chuckles a bit to herself. She starts to kiss you slowly, getting lower and lower until she reaches your stomach.

You stare at her as she starts to undo your jeans, growing more impatient, and hungrier for her touch.

There's no describing what you're feeling right now. Being so responsive to her touch, letting out moans and groans...

Once she had removed everything you were wearing leaving nothing but your panties, she positioned herself between your legs, staring up at you and then back to the wetness you had underneath.

"Fuck princess," She glides her fingers over your soaking underwear, making sure to admire your body "So wet f'me already?"

You moaned and reached for her hand which was still caressing your breasts. “Mhm… Shit” Your response made her smile. She slowly started to remove your panties, two of her fingers sliding into your wet folds.

Her touch is gentle yet firm, as she slowly slides two fingers inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that's been building up. She looks up at you, maintaining eye contact as she starts to move her hand, her fingers curling upward to hit that spot that makes your breath hitch.

She continues to watch you intently, her touch unyielding as she works her fingers in and out of you. "You like that, princess?" She asks, voice low. "Tell me how much you want me.”

"I want you so bad..."

Ellie's fingers continue their relentless pace, curling and stroking inside you. Her other hand comes up to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple. She leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as she whispers, “That's it, baby, let me hear those pretty moans.”

With no warning, she flips you over onto your stomach with a strong hand on your hip. She straddles your thighs from behind, pressing her clothed body against your bare back. Her fingers never leave your slick heat as she continues to thrust and stroke, now reaching even deeper.

You feel completely overwhelmed as Ellie's fingers continue to pump in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot inside that makes your whole body tremble. Your chest is pressed against the ground, your face buried in your arms as you try to stifle your screams.

“Fuck Ellie!” Your scream muffled, barely being able to talk.

She chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Grip the dirt, princess. Let it feel your desperation." Her fingers never stop moving, now scissoring inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. "What's the matter, can't you take it?"

Her voice turns rougher, laced with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine. "No man has ever touched you like this, have they? They couldn't, because this…” She pauses to curl her fingers inside you, chuckling against your ear at your broken cry.

She continues her relentless assault, fingers pumping faster as her palm grinds against your clit. "This is what you needed all along. To be taken, claimed, owned by someone who knows exactly how to make your body sing." Her teeth graze your shoulder. "Say it.”

"Tell me, has a man ever made you feel this good? Made you this desperate? Made you this... needy?" Her fingers curve upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you arch your back and let out a cry to the night sky.

“NO! FUCK NO!” You whimper.

"And don't you forget it," She says, her voice low and dominating.

You know that you wouldn't. Right in this very moment, you feel like you're seeing stars. You know that every time you touch yourself remembering this night, you'll be screaming her name.

She grins, her hand working faster "I love seeing you like this princess…" She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper

"So responsive, so vulnerable. And all mine to play with." Her breath is hot on your neck, her voice laced with power and satisfaction. "You're going to come for me now, aren't you? With my fingers inside you, and my voice in your ear, saying you're mine.”

“Ellie- I want to see your face… Please?”

She pauses for a moment, considering your request before nodding. "Good girl." She slowly removes her fingers from your trembling body, leaving you empty and aching for a moment before she flips you over onto your back. "Look at me, princess.”

You lock eyes with her as she brings her shiny, wet fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean. A smirk plays on her lips as she leans down between your spread thighs, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "Wrap your legs around my neck, baby.”

You do as she says, You wrap your legs tightly around her neck, holding on as she buries her face between your thighs. Her tongue dives inside you, lapping at your sensitive walls with ruthless enthusiasm. She sucks on your clit, her fingers digging into your hips as she eats you out with wild abandon.

As if reading your mind, she slides two fingers inside you once more, pumping them in rhythm with her thrusting tongue. Her mouth is merciless, her tongue flicking against you as her fingers stretch you wide. "Look at me,”

You're forced to keep eye contact with her as she devours you, her gaze burning with intensity. "I want to see the look on your face when you come. I want to see the moment you break." Her fingers curl inside you, rubbing against that spot that makes your vision blur.

Your breath hitches, and you dig into her back as your hips buck against her mouth. She growls against your flesh, the vibrations sending you hurtling towards the edge. "Ellie... please..." Your words trail off into a moan as she feels you clamp down around her fingers.

Her expression darkens, eyes locked onto yours as she redoubles her efforts. Her tongue swirls around your throbbing nub while her fingers pump in and out of you, the dual sensation becoming too much to bear. "Come for me, princess,”

Your back arches off the ground, legs shaking violently as you find your release. You scream her name, eyes wide and unblinking as you come undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, drowning out everything else. You hope the loud music inside was able to drown out your desperate screams.

As you shake and tremble, Ellie finally releases your hip, using her free hand to spread your pussy open wide. She looks at you with a hungry gaze, admiring the way your juices drip out of you. "Fuck, look at you,"

With a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, she lifts her head and crawls up your body to wrap you in her arms. She strokes your hair and rubs your back soothingly as you catch your breath. "Shh, you're okay, princess. I've got you.”

You nuzzle against her chest, the beating of her heart a soothing rhythm that calms your racing thoughts. The way she holds you now, tender and gentle, is a stark contrast to the intense passion from moments before. You feel cherished, protected.

You let out a content sigh, nestling closer. "I feel... satisfied. Really satisfied." You look up at her, tracing her jawline with your fingertips. "And you were right”

Her eyes sparkle with a mix of amusement and affection, her voice low and husky. "I told you, princess. I know exactly what y’ need." She presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. "And I'm glad I could be the one to give it to you.”

She continues to hold you, the warmth of her body and the security of her embrace making you feel safe and loved in a way you never have before. "You're mine now, princess. Mine to protect, mine to care for, and mine to love.”

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

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celestailio · 23 hours ago

Text

you are the apple of my eye ( gojo x fem!reader )

outline: gojo satoru is the star of your year while you are the exact opposite, and that is why you want absolutely nothing to do with him.

contains: gojo x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, reader and gojo are in the same year, lots of pinning from gojo's side, somewhat oblivious reader. some bullying. mishaps and lots of cuteness at the end :D reader is somewhat neurodivergent and lonely :< canon divergence ( my world, my rules )

wc: 8.9k

a/n: my very first fic of gojo. i hope i did him justice. this is kinda self-indulgent... but that's okay.. :> aahhh i miss him so much... i just want to eat and cuddle with him... ahhhh ahem. i wrote this for my one and only, my bestie!!! i hope you like it, my baby <3333 anyway, feedback is always appreciated on my writings! enjoy my fellow gojo connoisseurs!!!!

it is the beginning of november, which marks the onset of an unforgiving winter. the rain pours hard, washing everything it comes in contact with. the stony pavement leading to the jujutsu high is gradually beginning to flood, the water drenching your shoes.

you find your way through the busy road bustling with chattering students and teachers. stepping on wet dead leaves with a clear umbrella clutched in your hands, which is doing a poor job in shielding you from the heavy downpour.

why did they have to make the dormitories so far away from the main buildings?

you enter the front corridor and make a straight beeline for your locker, hurrying to change your shoes before the wetness makes contact with your socks. it was relatively easy to navigate today. usually, you would have to manoeuvre through lines of stationery people blocking the way.

climbing up the stairs to the second floor, you make a turn before coming to a stand still.

not again…

it was becoming a daily occurrence as of now. the horde of girls waiting near your classroom door for a certain someone. you could make out most of them to be from your year and a few junior ones probably a year younger than you and certainly not your best friend, yumeko because you know she’s still dozing off in her bed and will probably come to class a bit later like she often does. and it sucks that she lives in a different building than you. you’d have to request yaga to change rooms before next term.

you position yourself behind them concealed from any prying eyes. it’s not like you had to wait for them to leave. you could always go and ask them to move aside and make way for you, but every time you tried to strike a conversation with them, they all looked towards one another before dismissing you. so you’d rather wait patiently for yaga to disperse them like always.

as if on cue, a certain trio pops up behind a corner, their silhouette becoming clearer as they make their way towards the classroom. the short brown haired girl and the tall black haired boy walk in front while the white-haired boy trails behind. hands tucked in his pants’ pockets, his backpack dangling off his right shoulder. his white tufts bounce with each step. as soon as the girls see them, the loud squealing and giggling start.

‘’hey gojo!’’

‘’how was the mission boys?’’

it’s too early for this.

you don’t miss the frown that crawls up on the brown haired girl’s face. shoko. she has helped you on numerous occasions with your homework and projects. you think she is a nice girl. you often run into her smoking her lungs out behind the school’s building or in a desolate hallway late at night. you are surprised she still has her voice after going through countless packs in a short span.

‘’yo.’’

shoko calls out to you and proceeds to stand beside you, arms crossed. you give her a stiff nod before both of your attention is diverted. a girl emerges from the crowd.

you think she is someone a year below you. she trudges towards the front of the boy and stands in front of the white-haired boy, satoru. you catch a glimpse of a letter tucked in her hands behind her back. satoru raises an eyebrow as the girl begins to speak. everyone falls silent as they listen carefully.

it’s kinda hard to make out what she’s saying from where you are standing, but you know it’s the typical confession the boy receives every week. yumeko once told you about how, at the start of your second year, one of them received a whopping ten love letters in their locker. you don’t know if you should find it endearing or concerning.

shoko chuckles besides you clearly amused at the scene unfolding in front of her. you might as well enjoy this to the fullest. not every day, you get to see something like this.

the girl finishes her speech, head bowed and hands extending, showcasing the letter to satoru. everyone holds their breath as they wait eagerly for his response. dozens of eyes fixated on the white head. satoru stares at the letter blankly before a chuckle leaves him. the girl whips her head up at the mellow sound before she is stopped as his large hand comes up to rest on her head, giving it a small pat.

‘’sorry mimi! you are like a younger sister to me. i am sure there’s someone else for you.’’

everyone gasps, and continuous whispers start filling the once dead air. mimi visibly deflates, her hands dropping to her sides, causing the letter to fall on the floor. little tremors of embarrassment coursing through her body.

despite her attempts to suppress the little whimpers, she fails miserably as a loud sob breaks the tension. soon, she turns around and storms off. her friends call out her name before they go chasing after her. you kinda feel bad for the poor girl.

‘’don’t they know that he’s never going to accept?’’

shoko suddenly turns towards you, a smirk on her smooth face. eyes quirked up.

‘’why?’’ you question, as you look towards where the girl stood. the air is clearing out as everyone retreats to their respective classes.

‘’why don’t you?’’ she winks at you before silently slipping behind the classroom doors.

‘’wait-’’ you try to stop her, but she’s too damn fast. your hand hovers in the air for a moment before you gain composure. suppose you should go now, too. in the distance, you make out the silhouette of your best friend, yumeko.

nevermind.

her loud yells of your name, drawing unwanted attention as she dashes through the hallway. she is quick to join you and wraps an arm around your waist.

‘’finally!’’ she sighs loudly.

you sense satoru looking at the two of you, his blue eyes briefly meeting yours from behind those black sunglasses before he breaks eye contact. he bends down to pick up the trampled letter and shoves it in his jacket. suguru shouts his name, and satoru immediately goes straight into the classroom.

‘’can you please not shout my name in the hallways?’’ you hiss as she clings onto your body, her wet clothes an unpleasant feeling against your own.

‘’oh c’mon, it’s not that bad!’’ she exclaims with loud giggling as the both of you hurry to the classroom.

‘’but seriously yu, you need to get this under control unless you don’t care about jeopardizing your credit.’’ you poke her side and shrug her off.

both of you enter the class and are surprised to see yaga’s already waiting at the front. he nods at you both and signals you to go sit at your desks. satoru still has his eyes on you. you shrug and make your way through the lines of desks.

‘’oh who cares about that.’’ yumeko sighs before breaking into a big grin and sits on her desk in front of you. you only sigh at her mischief as yaga commences the lecture.

‘’today class, we will discuss a bit about your extracurriculars.’’ yaga starts off, his voice barely audible through the loud chatter of the class.

‘’this december break, you are to be assigned to locations all over japan with curse activities and will take on the mission as a duo.’’’

‘’rest assured you will be supervised by a senior jujutsu sorcerer. i will mail the formations and other details by tomorrow morning. make sure to check your post before classes. we will have personal lessons based on your chemistry with your partner.’’

the class is dead silent as yaga finishes his little monologue before everyone erupts in loud noises. some students are thrilled, ready to delve into new adventures while others slouch in their chairs, not happy with missing holidays.

‘’now that’s an interesting way to spice up your holidays, but doesn’t that mean no break for us this winter?’’ yumeko pouts.

��i am sure it’s going to be a quick one.’’

‘’but the sorcerers tend to get outclassed ninety percent of the time, no?’’ she giggles behind her hand.

‘’hey stop trying to frighten me, or i’ll have to chicken out before we actually go!’’ you join in with her giggles before both of you tune into the lecture.

after spending the rest of the day with yumeko cramped up in the library cramming for your theoretical exams, you stayed behind while yumeko had to go early. the hallways, along with the main entrance, are empty at this time, adding to the peaceful ambience.

you begin getting ready to return only to see the rain has yet to stop. yumeko had to borrow your umbrella, and you figured if you stayed behind a bit more, the storm might calm down, but clearly, it is not happening any time soon.

guess you’ll have to sit it out later into the night, too. might as well go to the cafeteria at this point.

‘’hey got an umbrella?’’

soft footsteps echo behind you before a warm and mellow voice calls out to you. you turn around, and once again, those familiar blue hues surround you.

satoru stands idly in front of you, leaning on a locker, eyes fixated straight on yours. the eye contact is fierce, causing you to break it off right away, shuddering at the intensity of his gaze.

you shake your head, not saying anything, trying to limit the interaction with him. really you don’t have anything against him, it’s just, you’d rather stay away from him from all the attention, and you definitely don’t want his fangirls ganging up on you for trying to snatch their crush away.

‘’oh don’t you have one?’’ he speaks easily and lifts off the locker, coming towards you.

‘’here you can take mine.’’ he’s so, so close to you now. the sweet smell of his cologne and the warmth radiating off of him is making your senses fuzzy. you again shake your head before coming up with an excuse.

‘’there’s no need. uh, my friend will be here shortly. thanks for offering, though.’’

you cringe internally at the hoarseness of your voice. since when did you sound like that, and was that a stutter? oh, god. you have done embarrassing yourself in front of him.

satoru chuckles watching you go through a mental debate. the distress is visible on your face, and he reaches up a hand to your shoulders and gives it a squeeze, trying to ease the mood.

‘’hey listen i don’t mind, and it’s not like i need one.’’ his voice now much more soft. he extends the umbrella towards you, waiting patiently.

you do your best not to pay attention to the weight of his unusually large hand on your shoulder as you stare intently at the clear umbrella. he again gives you a slight squeeze before you break out in a sigh.

you nod at him, and satoru cheers, a big grin danves on his face before passing the umbrella to you. your fingers graze briefly. a shudder courses through your body.

he’s surprisingly warm.

you are sure he must have felt the cold from your fingers. you thank him and open the umbrella. satoru is still standing beside you.

‘’you are welcome!’’ he chirps.

his jacket brushes against you and steps outside in the heavy rain. you are shocked to see him perfectly dry despite the heavy droplets of water. you focus on how the water seemed to disappear just before it reaches him and falls to the ground, barely making any contact with his body.

‘’you get it now?’’ satoru quips with a subtle smirk and sends you a quick wink before parting ways. you feel your cheeks heating up at his little act.

what the..

it's the next day, and just like yaga said, you wake up to find the letter in your mailbox containing the details about your very first joint mission. today you are with yumeko in her dorm. she is jumping from side to side, her own letter clutched in her hands while you sit on her bed. you can’t help but smile at the contagious excitement summering in the room.

‘’and? what are we waiting for? let’s open it!’’ yumeko springs on the bed, jolting you in the process.

‘’who knows they coincidentally partnered you and me?’’

‘’that’s impossible but sure.’’ you can only shake your head as she keeps on muttering something under her breath.

‘’whatever, yours first!’’ both of sit up straight, a strange feeling coursing through your bodies. why were you feeling nervous all of a sudden.

the once free and joyous air was now full of stillness. your heart races with excitement and uncertainty before you finally look at the inscribed name. yumeko breaks out into a loud gasp, trying to process the information, her hands in the air making random figures as she starts blabbering.

you had certainly not expected him to be your partner. you kept rubbing your eyes. maybe your eyes were deceiving you, but no matter how many times you rubbed them, the name did not change.

‘’what?! no way you got him as your partner!’’

‘’why are you mad at me? it’s not like i wanted him as my partner!’’ you huff and fall back into the sheets, arms coming up to rest on your head. the weight of the mission presses down on you as you think about how you were going to work with him. mind racing with possibilities and concerns.

‘’everything will be credited to him, and my plans of landing an early internship? blown to pieces!’’

your frustration is palpable. no way you were securing that internship now.

‘’i mean that’s true, but it’s going to be easy now! i don’t even have any idea who my partner is.’’ yumeko crawls beside you and exhales deeply.

‘’but don’t worry it will work out.’’ sigh you can only hope for now.

it’s a few days later after you received your letter. a dim afternoon, you are waiting outside yaga’s office. you’ve been meaning to talk to him about changing partners for the upcoming missions, and you explain to him trying your best to look sincere.

but no matter how many times you try to appeal to him, he just wouldn’t falter. he keeps on talking. that the jujutsu headquarters are the ones who designed the pairings, and there was nothing he could do about it. but isn't he a teacher? surely there was something he didn't think of.

you return from his office defeated. you never considered yourself to be lucky, but it really seemed like fate had stopped favouring you. there’s no way in hell you would go with the gojo satoru on a mission, but there was nothing you could do now.

every day becomes a hassle as you try to avoid satoru, but it’s impossible with the two of you being in the same class. he shows up strutting over to where you sit in the back of the class. the same black sunglasses hiding his eyes. he whistles a low melody as he comes to stand near your desk.

yumeko, who was in a conversation with you, looks at him and then you, eyes flickering back and forth between you and satoru.

‘’you know i thought it was appropriate to reach out to your partner to talk about your missions, but i guess not.’’

you continue to stare at the book open in front of you without sparing him a glance, a stick of pocky in your hand. he chuckles, amused at the lack of the reaction from you before waving a hand in front of your face, trying to get you to look at him.

‘’hey missy!’’ you keep on staring at the jumbled words on the book. if you keep this act up, maybe he will leave you in peace.

‘’you know i am hurt when yaga told me that you wanted to switch partners.’’ satoru give you a pout, pink glossy lips jutting out cutely. you bite down onto the last bits of your pocky as you resist the urge to laugh at his ridiculous actions.

‘’and here i thought perhaps you will like me more after i gave you my umbrella.’’ he sighs and dramatically placed a hand against his forehead.

satoru continues his monologue of random ramblings. he leans against your chair, a familiar scent to infiltrates your nostrils. clearly, this boy has no sense of personal bubble. yumeko begins to stand up from her desk, wanting nothing to do with his idiotic acting.

‘’no wait please, don’t leave me alone with him.’’ you jolt up at the sound of her chair screeching as you beg her to end your misery. yumeko puts both of her hands up in a surrender and dashes through the class and out the door.

thanks for that, yumeko.

you stand there awkwardly, now fully aware of the piercing gaze.

‘’oh so now you acknowledge me.’’

you feel yourself trembling as his full attention is on you.

‘’can we please not do this here?’’

you hope he hears the pleading in your voice. yikes, everyone in the class is staring at the two of you now.

there is something flimsy about you right now that satoru can’t put a finger around. why were you getting so worked up? he was just making friendly conversation. you hastily began to put your stuff back in your backpack, eager to leave the classroom as soon as possible. all the while, satoru simply looks at you.

‘’excuse me.’’

‘’am i that bad? that you can’t bear having me near you?’’

he suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence. both of you stand still as he waits for your response. your heart is now palpitating behind your rib cage, and it’s becoming difficult to breathe properly. your palms are sweaty as tension begins taking over you.

‘’it’s not about you.’’ you try to speak clearly, but your voice is merely above a whisper.

‘’then what is it?’’

‘’it’s about me.’’

you push past him, your arm briefly touching his. satoru watches you leave with his mouth agape before you disappear behind the classroom door away from his gaze.

ever since that encounter, satoru has been awfully calm around you. the training sessions before the actual mission have been taking place after school. he did show up to a few in the beginning, lazing around not even bothering to practice with you.

the whole session, he munched on his stash of sweets he seemed to carry everywhere all the while rambling about a cartoon named digimon, which you have no idea about. you also joined in talking about your favourite sweets and chocolates. this was all you did before he left mid-session.

‘’and this is my absolute favourite card at the moment, i hope it makes it to the top ten rankings. wait, i should take you to the tournament sometime. yeah i should.’’

as always, he was murmuring things to himself, and you’re glad he was not focusing on how bright the redness on your face was starting to get.

apart from the short chit-chats, the last of the sessions are spent alone watching the other students practice jujutsu while you sit in a corner behind a tree or a rock. yaga would look at you with pity and tell you not to worry about it. but how could you not? wasn’t he the one preaching about how rude it was not to talk with your partner, but it’s not when he is not even attending the sessions properly?

and it seemed like he had no interest in the training anymore as he didn’t even bother with showing up to some near the end. these remaning training sessions were a mess, and you are glad this was over now.

the last week of november, the jujutsu high was busy with the theoretical exams. you have seen satoru in the exam hall a few times. he appeared the same as he usually is, surrounded by his fangirls or trailing behind his friends.

he never approached you or even glanced at you. it’s been radio silence ever since the practice. you can’t help but feel a bit of hurt at his sudden disinterest.

you get it that he is one of the strongest duo. heck he doesn’t even need all this training, but he could at least come out of courtesy. you are not anywhere near his level, and you could’ve appreciated his help.

if he's like this during the practices, you can only wonder how the mission was going to be with him.

it's after the last of your exams, you are relaxing in your room when yumeko comes and drops off your umbrella. she insisted that you return satoru’s too. you tried to convince yumeko to drop it off at his dorm since she lives in the same building as him, but she was having nothing of that.

so you find yourself standing in front of his door. his nameplate hanging on the wooden door with a bunch of smiley faces stickers here and there. it was kinda cute. just a little.

should you just leave it at the front? no way in hell were you going to knock?

‘’oh it’s you.’’

you whip around startled at a sudden presence behind you. oh, it was suguru with plastic bags full of groceries in his hands.

‘’you wanted to meet with satoru?’’

he comes around you while you step aside to allow him to unlock the room.

‘’unfortunately he’s not here right now. come.’’ he gestures to the unlocked room and steps inside.

‘’oh no there’s no need for that. i was just, uhh, here to return his umbrella.’’

your lips press together as you point to the clear umbrella clutched in your hands. you extend it towards him. suguru nods and takes it from you. he reaches into one of the bags and pulls out a box of pocky.

‘’here for you.’’ he says, a small smile gracing his face.

‘’satoru told me you enjoyed stuff like this.’’ your eyes widen at his statement.

what? satoru has been talking about you? and to his friends? heat glows on your face, and you drop your head trying not to scream in front of suguru. your eyes trained on the chocolate box before politely accepting it.

‘’thanks.’’ you try to muster a smile at his kind gesture. not really sure if it looked nice at all.

‘’it’s no problem at all.’’ he waves at you, shooting you a friendly smile one last time before you return to your own dorm.

one moment he’s pretending that you don’t exist, and the other, you find that he is gossiping about you to his friends. you don’t know what to make of it, but you don’t like the fact that someone might be talking behind your back.

you don’t know when the time passes and the mission day rolls around. everyone is waiting around the main entrance of jujutsu high. meanwhile, you are alone once again watching everyone else get ready with their duo. this is extremely embarrassing. you’ve been informed that satoru will be joining you at the designated place. great, just great.

the ride to aomori is arid. the majority of your time has been spent sleeping or gazing out the window of your vehicle, admiring the rolling hills. you just don’t get it. why is it so difficult sometimes?

you remember satoru asking you the question. whether you found him annoying or difficult to be with. but at present, you can’t help but think maybe he is the one who didn’t want to associate with a loner. maybe that’s why nowadays he is avoiding you like the plague everywhere he goes.

you both can’t even be considered friends, so why is his disinterest affecting you so much? or was it that perhaps you were beginning to think you finally made another friend. but guess not. soon you find yourself standing in a random lobby of a hotel. it’s nearing the end of the day. your supervisor is someone with the name of tanaba sora, a first grade jujutsu sorcerer. he helps you with checking in at the reception. now that the formalities have been completed, you’d suppose a tour wouldn’t hurt.

even though it’s midnight, the hotel is still lively buzzing with tourists and vacationers. dozens of guests are checking in, and the banquet hall is full of people socializing with jazz playing in the background. the bar is still open, and you spot a couple of high schoolers who probably sneak in enjoying themselves from outside. you’d wonder where yumeko was. maybe she was taking a tour of her own hotel just like you, or maybe she had already hit the bed.

the tour was supposed to feel nice, but all it had done was remind you again and again of your lack of company. where the heck was satoru? they told you he would be here, but it’s been several hours since you’ve arrived, and he hasn’t shown up yet.

was this a joke to him or what?

it seemed like he’s still an egotistical prick, just like you've told. you were too blinded by his bubbly appearance on that rainy day to see that.

it’s the day of the mission. last night, you barely got any sleep. the touring around late into the night was certainly a terrible idea considering you were to get up early today to meet with tanaba-san. the buffet at the hotel was already closed when you arrived in the dining hall. great. not even refreshments were available. guess you’d just pick up a sandwich from the vending machine. the hotel has tons of machines ones near the side entrance, you suppose a carton of chocolate milk along with the sandwich would be good.

the air outside is crisp and windy. the surroundings are blanketed with a thick layer of snow. it must have snowed last night. the instant you enter through the side entrance, your eyes immediately zero in on the familiar white head. great, just who you wanted to see at this moment. he’s dressed the total opposite to you. you had put on your thickest coat while he’s in a sleek black leather jacket with some washed-out grey jeans.

is he not cold with such little layering?

before you could make an attempt to run away, satoru’s already caught sight of you and was making his way to you. there was no escape for you now.

‘’yo! i see you have already arrived.’’

satoru has his head tilted down in an attempt to meet your eyes, but you are unwilling to look at him as you divert your attention to his white converses. he complains about the lack of high-quality strawberry milk at this place, but you just don’t care about that or the different brands of strawberry milk he is carrying in his hands.

‘’why didn’t you come with us yesterday?’’

‘’huh?’’

you hold onto your white scarf a bit tighter as you say nothing and continue to shoot glares at his shoes.

‘’oh i really wanted to, but you know how it is last-minute clan meetings, the higher ups just wouldn’t let me go.’’ your eyes meet, and you take in the sight of how full his already angelic eyelashes look with the snow coating them.

‘’i know you must have been confused after the long journey.’’ he apologizes between long gulps from his carton of sweet milk and satisfied hums.

‘’what you say we hit the city before the mission?’’ he gives you a sweet smile, his lips sheen with the drizzle of sweet pink liquid. however, his sweet presence does nothing to ease the discomfort in your chest.

‘’at least give me a legitimate excuse.’’

‘’what? no it’s not-’’

‘’just say it. that this whole thing is too troublesome for you, and you’d rather be spending some time with your side chicks than accompany me on a mission!’’

‘’no, no it’s not like that-’’

‘’no actually it’s my fault for confiding in a stranger so easily.’’

‘’no wait-’’

‘’goodbye.’’

what a nice way to start off your day. maybe you had lashed out on the poor boy, but he deserved it. tanaba-san comes knocking at your hotel room you’ve shut yourself in after the whole mess with satoru. he is there too when you step out into the hallway. he gives you a small smile which you don’t bother returning. you don’t see the way his shoulders droop, the way his smile becomes a little strained.

tanaba-san takes you through the main city of aomori. the streets are just waking up with vendors setting up their stalls and shops, and people waiting at the bus stop as many get ready to start their day. your designated location is the isolated ishigami shrine deep in the woods.

tanaba-san explains how some people in the vicinity have been disappearing on a regular basis. upon investigation, little traces of cursed energy had shown up in the reports pointing towards a curse spirit. the shrine at the moment was abandoned, and it was easy to see with the way the moss and tangled vines seemed to envelope every single inch of the site.

“why would anyone come to pray at an abandoned shrine? aren’t there better options in the city?” satoru asks all of a sudden while you’re in the middle of walking to the shrine.

“that’s what confuses us too. you’d think people would stop coming after the disappearances, but they haven’t.” tanaba-san replies while he looks at the reports he brought with him.

“it’s almost like they have been lured in.” you say and look at him.

“that might be it. and it matches with the amount of cursed energy residuals near the walkway to the shrine.” he shows you the report, and you ponder for a while.

“maybe the people aren’t coming on their own. the curse might be targeting the passersby.” tanaba-san praises you and gives you a gentle pat on your head while satoru huffs in the back.

now that the things are becoming clearer, tanaba-san leaves the two of you to find the curse. he assures you both that he will be on guard if anything goes out of control.

“i don’t think there will be any need for that.” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his lack of respect before ensuring tanaba-san that you will call him as soon as everything is taken care of.

“that was rude.” you point out after he has left.

from your peripheral, you noticed how satoru quirks up an eyebrow and huffs to himself like a disgruntled kid. whatever, you had no time to deal with his petty antics. you begin to make your way inside the main interior of the shrine only to find yourself interrupted as satoru abruptly stands in front of you.

“and where do you think you’re going?” he asks, eyes down cast and almost pouting.

“to search?”

“aww no, no.” laughing to himself, satoru coos loudly at you.

“you are staying right behind me. who knows what might be lurking in there.” he goes behind you and puts his hands on your shoulders, turning you around.

“in case you have forgotten, i am a jujutsu sorcerer too!” you cross your arms.

is he serious?

“but i’m the strongest here, not you.” he leans in again and grins at you. his familiar fragrant smell murking your thoughts.

“just because you are the most powerful doesn’t give you the right to order me around.” you point your finger at his chest, pushing him off from you.

“it’s not that you have any choice unless you want to die.” does he think you are some child? for god’s sake.

“i can handle myself just fine!”

can’t he just stop?

“i don’t think so.” his usual cheery stance has shifted to a serious one. he looks down at you, his stature tall and dominating with his eyes glowing a little.

“what grade are you? you’re barely a second. so how about leaving things to the professional?” he shakes his head and turns around.

“why don’t you just quit with this? time’s wasting, ya know?” he continues voice no longer holding that tangy tone. he grips tight onto your hand, dragging you behind him.

“i’ve had enough.” you snatch your hand away from his hold.

“hey! didn’t i just tell you-”

“don’t touch me and stay away from me. you scumbag.”

“yeah? i don’t think so.’’

you run away with all your might away from his demeaning gaze and spiteful words. wow, he didn’t have to say it like that. you are sure he is absolutely sick of you. tears are brimming in your eyes as you blink frantically, trying not to burst into tears. but no matter what you do, the conversation keeps on resurfacing in your mind.

you just wanted to show him that you were capable of dealing with this on your own. why was he so obnoxious? you gaze at the morning scene of the forest. the quiet view calming your senses. guess all you have to do is find that curse as fast as you can and leave this godforsaken place.

as you wander deep into the wilderness, you find yourself surrounded by tall evergreen trees that seem to close in on you. their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out. the air was beginning to get colder the further you went in. you can’t help but feel like something ominous was waiting in the area.

it was pitch quiet. eerie silence all around you. so still that you could hear the crackle of snow beneath your boots. a branch snaps in a distance before a crow cries out and glides away. quickly, you summoned your katana, the blade weighing heavy as you hold it in front of you, ready to strike anything that comes at you. something or rather someone is definitely in the vicinity.

moving closer to where the snap came from, you notice the intense stench of curse energy in the air. the spirit must’ve been here, or maybe it’s still skulking around. you take another careful step.

your eyes fall on to a knocked-down tree trunk and behind the scraped wood, you see it or rather her. sitting on top of a rock with shide ropes all around it. dozens of dead bodies, which you assumed were of the victims. all of them placed in a circle pattern around the centre.

she was dressed in a pale white kimono, her face was hidden from you, and only her red plump lips were visible to you. her skin was strangely too human like as a curse. no wait.

no, that wasn’t a cursed spirit…

it was a fallen deity.

everything was beginning to make sense. that shrine must have been dedicated to her. you couldn’t stop the gasp that left you, and the deity snaps up her head as she appears to be looking at you.

‘’...?’’

she speaks something in a language you are not able to understand. however calm she appears right now, you know better than to let your guard down. you slowly point your katana at her.

‘’what have you done to them?’’

once more, you are finding it difficult to comprehend any of what she is saying. from the looks of it, the bodies seemed to have been disintegrating, leaving behind the rotten flesh and a wretched smell. god, what has she done to them? their faces are almost unrecognizable through the bits and pieces of skin falling off, the muscle underneath as apparent as daylight.

the deity’s dreary tone changes, her voice now a chilling command. she utters some chants, and the surrounding bodies begin to stir, their decayed forms rising with jerky and unnatural movements. the horror begins to form as you realize she has cursed them with a disease, turning them into flesh-eating monsters under her control.

one by one, the undead lurch towards you, their eyes vacant, and their mouths twisted in silent screams. you know that even a single touch could doom you to the same fate. with a deep breath, you ready your katana, the blade gleaming in the dim sunlight.

the first creature lunges at you, but you sidestep and slice through its neck with precision. it tumbles to the ground, lifeless once more. another follows, and then another. each one is weak compared to you, but their sheer numbers are overwhelming.

you dodge and weave, your katana cutting through the air in swift and brutal strokes. the stench of decay fills your nostrils, but you push through, determined to stay alive. the numbers are lessening, she must have run out of corpses. just as you think you have the upper hand, the deity herself moves.

with grace, she descends upon you, her pale hands glowing with curse energy. you try to dodge her attack, but she is too fast. her move sends you sprawling to the ground, your katana slipping from your grasp. your blood is making a pool on the dirt, flowing in large globs from the open wounds. pain sears through your body, and you scream out, feeling the cold grip of death closing in.

as your vision begins to blur, you hear a familiar voice. satoru appears, his presence a beacon of light. with a swift motion, he pulls the remaining monsters into a void with the amplification of his curse technique, the blue light shining through the dense forest. his power surpassing the deity’s influence. he turns to you, kneeling beside you, his azure eyes glowing with fervour.

“hang on,” he says, his voice steady. “i’ve got this.”

he turns around to stare at the deity and stands up. he releases his energy output, and his cursed energy reaches to a maximum. with a final, powerful blast, satoru annihilates the deity, purple splotches splattering the ground as her form dissipates into nothingness. he rushes to your side once more before holding you in his arms.

“you’re going to be okay.” he assures you.

you manage a weak smile, grateful that he came looking for you even though you shouted pretty bad stuff at him.

“thanks.” you whisper, voice low.

“don’t mention it,” he replies, his usual cheerfulness returning. “just don’t run off like that again. yeah?’’

you nod as you get comfortable in his secure hold, feeling drowsy from all the fighting.

"and i am sorry too. i shouldn't have said those things."

you feel your eyes widen before you let out a giggle.

"mhm, it's okay."

satoru smiles at you and pinches your cheeks before lifting you properly.

what follows after is a hazy blur. you don’t know when you made it to the hotel room.

you are still recovering from your injuries by the time you made it back to jujutsu high. satoru decided to join you on the journey back. even though you spent the majority of the trip sleeping, you are glad you at least had some company this time.

everyone has arrived already, waiting in the courtyard for yaga to welcome the tired folks from the mission. yumeko waves at you from the crowd and immediately runs over to you, fussing over the way you are wrapped in white bandages from head to toe.

it was nice getting together with yumeko after so much time. you didn’t notice you were beginning to miss hearing the pompous gossip of the school. her trip was smooth without any hiccups. she told you it was barely a second grade curse. easy-peasy. nevertheless, you are glad she’s unscathed.

too engaged in chatting with yumeko you don’t notice when a group of girls approaches you, their eyes narrowing as they take in your bandaged state.

‘’hey girls!’’ yumeko calls out and welcomes them.

one of the girls, a tall one with long and black flowing hair, steps forward, her voice dripping with disdain.

“look at you, always needing to be saved. it’s kinda pathetic, no?” she tilts her head towards her friends, trying to get their approval.

a short girl chimes in, her lips glossed with shimmering crème, “do you think you can just hog gojo’s attention because you’re a weakling? it’s embarrassing.”

‘’we can all see what you’re trying to achieve.’’ the same black haired spits at you before all of them start howling and laughing at you.

you try to ignore them and pay attention to what yaga’s speaking about, but their words sting. yumeko steps in, her eyes bright with anger.

“leave her alone. it’s not her fault that the curse turned out to be a special grade.”

the tall girl sneers in distaste. “oh, defending your dear friend, are you? how about you tell your little one to stop making a move on gojo.”

‘’who are you to speak on his behalf, huh?!’’ yumeko responds back, snarling at the girl.

the students nearby glance over, whispering behind their hands.

you hold yumeko back as the girls continue to laugh and jeer. a lump forms in your throat, the pain from your injuries mixing with the hurt from their words.

“enough!” you yell, silencing them.

“you all think you’re special just because you fawn over him? well, you’re not!”

“so shut your mouth before i make you regret it!”

sweat drips down your face as you finish your outburst. everyone is staring at you. the realization of what you’ve done crashes over you causing you to shriek as you draw in heavy breaths.

yumeko calls out to you, but you shake your head. turning away, you sprint to your dorm, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

this was never going to change.

upon your sudden disappearance, not only your friend yumeko has become worried, but a certain someone is concerned too. satoru was delighted once he saw your name in his letter. he never really talked to you or approached you when you both joined the jujutsu high a year ago, but he’s been yearning to talk to you ever since. you were always so hasty to leave when the lectures were over, leaving him standing alone in the hallway.

to everyone else, you seemed like a chill and timid girl who preferred to stay cooped up in her dorm, but he knew there was more beneath your hard shell.

those sweet giggles of you from the class are still reverberating in his mind. satoru assumed the rest of you to be the same. he wouldn’t mind having another friend, and besides, he just seems to have a soft spot for sweet things, too.

on that fateful day, his prayers appeared to have been answered when he saw you standing near the lockers all by yourself, waiting for the storm to subside.

he was giddy when suguru told him you came to visit him. the entire day, he spent curled up in his bed looking at his umbrella. after the whole fiasco in aomori, he admits there were some ups and downs, some misunderstandings, but he thought you two were over them.

so why were you not responding to his messages and calls. your desk has always been vacant ever since you both came back. satoru even went to yaga at the end of a lecture one day. he didn’t really go into too many details. he just told him that you were sick.

but were you really? or were you faking it?

so he sets out on a mission, desperate to see you. he seeks out the one person he’s seen you with. luckily, his dorm is on the same floor as your best friend’s. yumeko is more than happy to help him since you wouldn’t meet her. maybe you’ll listen to him. she speaks in a hushed tone about the encounter with the girls, her voice trembling.

as yumeko recounts the cruel words and actions of the fangirls, satoru’s fists clench at his sides. his usually cheery appearance is replaced by a storm of emotions.

“they said what?” he growls, his eyes flashing with disgust.

“how dare they treat her like that?”

yumeko nods, her expression equally upset. “they think they can bully her just because she’s close to you. it’s not fair.”

satoru nearly whips his hair out in anger, his mind racing with thoughts of how to confront those girls.

“this is unacceptable. they have no right to make her feel this way.”

he nearly trips on his feet several times with the way he’s hurrying towards your dorm. his heart pounds in his chest, a mix of frustration and fear driving him forward. he can’t believe those girls, the ones who claim to admire him, could be so cruel. the thought of you suffering because of their jealousy makes his blood boil.

by the time he reaches your dorm, he is panting and drenched in sweat. he knocks urgently, his knuckles white from the force, and waits for you to open the door only to hear no response from the other side. his eyes glare at your nameplate before he knocks again.

‘’i can see feel your cursed energy.’’ silence.

‘’i know you’re in there,’’ he repeats, his voice softer this time. ‘’please just listen to me.’’

inside your room, you sit on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest. eyes dried up with leftover tears clinging to your eyelashes and your lips slightly chapped. you can hear the concern in his voice, but the sting of the girls’ words still lingers. you don’t want to face him, not like this.

“go away,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“i’m not leaving until you open this door,” he replies firmly. “we need to talk.”

you hesitate for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on you. was he finally going to cut you off? is that why he was here? you stay seated in your bed, trembling before you hear him call out your name softly.

slowly, you get up and walk to the door. you stand in front of the wood. satoru encourages you behind the door to open it, and you do so. unlocking it but not opening it fully, that doesn’t stop him as he pushes it open gently, stepping inside and closing it behind him.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with worry and anger. “why have you been avoiding me?”

you turn away, not wanting to meet his gaze. “it’s better this way.”

“better for whom?” he asks, stepping closer.

“not for me. and definitely not for you.” you could feel him standing behind you, his warmth radiating towards you.

you feel tears welling up again at his words. “they said i’m weak. that i don’t deserve to be around you.”

satoru’s expression hardens, his anger flaring up again. “they don’t know what they’re talking about. you’re one of the strongest people i know.”

‘’you did so well on the mission.’’

you shake your head, the tears spilling over descending your cheeks. “you don’t understand. everyone is beginning to hate me because of you.”

satoru feels his chest tighten as he looks at your trembling form. he reaches out, gently turning you to face him.

“then let them hate. their opinions don’t matter. what is important is how you feel about yourself.”

you look up at him, his words slowly sinking in. “but, it’s hard when people are constantly trying to make you feel like you’re worthless.”

“i know, but remember, no one can make you feel inferior without your permission.” he says softly, his anger giving way to something protective.

“but you don’t have to go through it alone. i’m here for you. always.”

he pulls you into his strong arms, immediately calming you with his warm embrace. he rubs up and down your back and lets you cry out your emotions, not minding that you’re wetting his tee.

he holds you in his arms for a couple of minutes, smearing kisses against your head, and soon your sobs die down, and you take a deep breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly.

“thank you, satoru.” you look up from where you were tucked in his chest.

he smiles down at you and pinches your cheek. his usual cheerfulness returning. “anytime.’’

you nod, feeling a bit lighter. he slowly guides your head back against his chest and continues to hug you tightly.

“there’s something i want to tell you —”

satoru gently guides you to sit on the edge of your bed, his hands never leaving yours. the room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater and the distance howling of the snowfall against the window. he sits beside you, close enough that you can feel his knee touching yours.

he takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “— something i’ve been meaning to tell you,” he begins, his voice soft but steady.

“i’ve been holding back for too long, and i can’t keep it inside anymore.” you feel a flutter in your chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

“what is it, satoru?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he reaches up, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. his touch is tender, sending shivers down your spine.

“i care about you, more than just a friend,” he confesses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection.

“i’ve felt this way for a while now, but i was too afraid to say anything. i didn’t want to risk losing what we already had.”

your breath catches in your throat as his words sink in. the emotions you’ve been trying to suppress come rushing to the surface.

“satoru, i-” you start, but he places a finger tenderly on your lips, effectively silencing you.

“let me finish,” he whispers softly.

“you mean the world to me. seeing you hurt because of those girls, it broke my heart. at that time, i realized i wanted to be there for you, to protect you, and to make you happy. if you’ll let me.”

tears well up in your eyes, but this time, they are ones of relief.

“i feel the same way.” you admit, your voice trembling with elation.

“i’ve been so scared, but i can’t deny it anymore. i care about you too, satoru.”

a smile spreads across his face, and he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“thank you,” he whispers, his breath silky against your skin.

“for giving me a chance.”

you never thought you’d see those blue eyes so close. at this moment, you wanted nothing but to submerge and drown yourself in them.

slowly, satoru tilts his head, his lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses. the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. his kiss is gentle at first as he slowly mouths at your lower lips, as if he was testing the waters.

but as you respond with a soft kiss against his own lips, he deepens it, the kiss now filled with all the emotions you’ve both been holding back.

you feel his hands move to cup your face, his thumbs gently cradling your cheeks. your own find their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. the kiss is everything, sending a rush of warmth and tingles through your entire body.

his lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell, each nip at your lips igniting a spark that spreads through your veins. the snow outside seems to intensify, mirroring the storm of emotions within you.

his hands slide down to your waist underneath your sweater, rubbing circles before pulling you even closer as your chest rubs against his. you answer by wrapping your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at his nape. the kiss becomes more passionate yet still tender, a perfect blend of love and desire.

when you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads still touching.

“i love you.” he murmurs against your mouth, his eyes sparkling with sincerity and adoration for you.

“i love you too,” you reply, your heart swelling with gentle love.

you and satoru share a smile. he slips under the covers and tucks you in before pulling you into his comforting embrace once again. holding you as if he never wants to let go. satoru looks at you one last time and chuckles to himself with how content you seem snuggled in his arms. finally, he’s got what he’s been desiring for ages.

“you know you have always been the apple of my eye,” he mumbles, his voice filled with fondness.

you laugh softly, a fuzzy feeling spread through you. “oh, shut up!” you reply, playfully nudging him.

he grins, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “i mean it. you’re everything to me.”

you look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “and you’re everything to me, too.”

as the snow continues to fall outside, you both settle into a comfortable silence, holding each other close. the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little haven.

#ruru works #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #ruru fav fics

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siriuslysmoking · 2 days ago

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Villian and Violent

SPOILER WARNING ! SPOILER WARNING ! SPOILER WARNING!

If you haven't watched Outer Banks season 4 part 2, DO NOT I REPEAT DO NOT READ THIS

AN: this fic is strictly for @jlovesjj, I DO NOT write for Rafe <3, she is just a very very sad girl, in light of the recent events, I am trying to provide her with any comfort so she can stop crying. Thank you and good day.

Pairing: Rafe x Reader, bsf!JJ x reader

Warnings: It's sad, angst, death, violence, not edited (She's impatient)

You all look up to the statue that the crown was hopefully in. All you you could barely see due to the sand storm enclosing you all.

"Hey! I'm gonna go up and scope it out!" Rafe shouts over the deafening wind in your ears.

"I'm not leaving it up to him!" JJ shouts back to the group, you can practically feel Rafe rolling his eyes as he grabs your hand. Like hell is he letting you leave his sight.

"No, I'm with you!" Kiara says, joining JJ. You look back and barely see Sarah and John B struggling, She doesn't look okay, so you hear JJ shout to them.

"Hey! John B, you two sit this one out, okay? We'll find the crown..." That's the last you heard as you and Rafe make your way up the hill. Once you make it to the top of the hill, you and Rafe both meet each other's eyes. Then he starts trying to climb up the statue, he doesn't get three feet up, before the wind knocks him back down, You look at him and realise once he stands back up that it wasn't just the wind it was also his hand still bothering him. He holds it close you his chest, looking at you as both Kiara and JJ come racing up the hill.

"Hey! I can't get up there, not with this hand!" He shouts at JJ and Kie. You see them both have a conversation that you can't hear, even with them a few feet away, it's hard to hear yourself think.

"Right now this is our chance! They've taken everything away from us. They're not gonna take this too!" He pulls down his mouth covering so Kiara can hear him better. "I gotta do this, I gotta do this for all of us. I mean, hey, it was my fault to begin with. So, I mean, I should be the one to fix it."

They hug each other and JJ moves over to you and Rafe, getting ready to climb. You step up to him and say, "Hey, you're my best friend, so don't do anything stupid."

He hugs you and speaks, "I'll try."

He lets you go and looks to Rafe, Rafe helps him step up onto the platform, "You got it!"

"Hey! You'll get your cut!" JJ yells, before beginning his climb up. Rafe and you both climb down to stand with Kie and watch JJ as he moves up the statue. You hold Kiara's hand as you watch some of the old loose rocks fall around him. Suddenly he's only hanging on by one hand. You gasp as Kiara shouts his name.

Once he finally gets himself to the large platform you feel as though you can finally take a breath. As you watch JJ you hear a voice. "They have to be up here!"

You all meet each others eyes, Rafe speaks first, "Shit, here they come."

Kie shouts to JJ, trying to get his attention, but he seems confident that he can get the crown in time. "Hey! You stay here. I'll go down and buy us some time."

Kiara nods as you step to go with Rafe, "What? Rafe, are you crazy? They'll kill you!"

"I'm a killer too, I've got nothing to lose." He shouts then looks at you, "You're staying here."

"You can't make me." You yells back firmly. He knows that there is no use in fighting and you're losing time. he makes his way down the hill with you trailing behind him.

Rafe makes you stay back as you approach the group of Mercenaries, he has the luck of the storm not his side, so that they don't see him coming. He goes and cuts the man from behind, as he works with that man you see one heading your way. You're by the man's side so while he looks through the scope of his gun you shove the barrel down and jam the butt of the gun into his jaw. It knocks him down for a second before you step back and he grabs your ankle, tripping you. You stumble as he gets up and he makes his way towards you. Without any weapon, you're out of luck, he's already grabbed his gun, so you make a run for it.

You head into the small village, trying to outrun the guy. You stumble into a deserted house and looks for anything that could be considered a weapon.

"Come out you little bitch!" he shouts, by the door frame of the house, she sees the barrel of the gun and jumps out for the behind the wall and slams a stone to his head. Blood starts flowing from the top of his head, but that only slowed him down and made him more angry. He did happen to drop his gun of the impact, you grab it and slam the butt of the gun to his forehead before you can even think about what you're doing. he falls to the ground with a heavy 'thump', and you finally take a breath. You hang onto the gun, just for safekeeping, as you set a mission to find Rafe. That's when you hear a soft gunshot in the distance, you immediately perk up and try to run to the source, but with this wind and all the walls that carried it, it could be from anywhere. You head down different passageways and alleys and houses.

Once you travel far enough and the storm starts slowing down, you can finally hear something. You think it's Rafe, your worst fear is him being hurt or worse but what you come upon is much worse than anything you can imagine. You can now recognize that the sounds you heard was not in fact Rafe, it was Kie, she was leaning onto JJ's legs, crying, then you realise the small movements of JJ's chest is gone, that he sits there lifeless. You drop the heavy gun and start to tear up, Kiara doesn't even look your way, you don't think she even cares about anything other than JJ in this moment.

You start to feel your knees buckle before strong arms wrap around your middle, You'd try to get them off but you realise you have no more fight left in your body, after the days of being on the run with lack of food and water, it's finally caught up to you, and all it took was seeing your best friends body lifeless on the ground. You move a little, mumbling something about getting off of you and then you hear a whisper, "It's me, It's me."

At the sound of you boyfriends soft you, you finally let yourself fall, letting out a horrendous sound out of the back of your mouth. Rafe lets his back fall down the wall with you in his arms. You both sit the on the stone in each others arms as he rocks you back and forth.

You can't even think, a life without your best friend in it's not a life worth living.

Rafe shushes you, saying soft words into your ears. You don't even notice when the rest of the group stumbles upon you guys, you don't think you even care.

You feel pathetic as Rafe carries you back, he has to set you down to go up a large sand dune, but he doesn't let go of your hand at any point. You sit next to him as he buries a grave for JJ's body, you watch him as he lowers it into the sand, you shake as he slowly covers it back up with sand.

You sit with your back to his front as you sit before the fire. You have cried all your tears, your eyes feel dry and body feels weak, as Rafe supports your body. Your eyes get heavy as Rafe whispers to you, "you'll be alright, I promise."

You don't believe him, you think he's lying, but it was nice to hear anyways.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated

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livelaughloveluffy · 21 hours ago

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comfort - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: listen... i was always a law simp pre-wano..... but wano law 😭😭😭 you will always be famous. and the brain rot is just so intense for him that i had to write this fic

a/n: i'm still adjusting to my antidepressants and literally have 9 labs due this week so forgive me for not being insanely active; i'm mainly just trying to survive 💀

nothing but fluff here! 💗

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when he comforts you:

-the captain goes above and beyond to silently help you out. chores you were supposed to do around the polar tang are miraculously already done, a cold glass of water and a small snack left on your nightstand when you wake up, your laundry folded and put away.

-and it doesn't stop at that. law wants to make sure you can relax and destress, so this sweet man will run you a bath, dimly lit with candles and a glass of wine, and he'll stay to gently wash your hair and give back massages. fully allowing you to just enjoy the warmth of the soapy water and his touch.

-he'll always make time in his schedule for cuddles, even if that means the two of you are crammed into his desk chair, he'll hold you tight to him, gently stroke your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

-while advice isn't law's strongest area of expertise (he's much too pessimistic and blunt for that 💀) he is a fantastic listener. once he knows you aren't looking for a solution to your problems but just someone to support you while you rant, he'll sit through hours and hours of ranting and rambling, attentive eyes on you, his hand on the smalls of your back rubbing soft circles into you, even when he's busy he'll always lend an ear to your problems and a shoulder to cry on.

-he's a lot more affectionate than usual when he notices you haven't been yourself. pda suddenly doesn't bother him anymore, and he won't leave a room before giving you some kisses, his arm will be around your waist as he address the crew, or he'll grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: law will provide literally the best cuddles you could ever ask for, his silk sheets against your body, the smell of his cologne filling the room, his warm body next to yours, your head on his chest, he'll let your fingers trace over the lines of his tattoos with absolutely no protesting. he's going to do the most for you, and if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd truly have no idea who was leaving little chocolates and love notes on your pillow, a new book on your bed, your favorite drink stocked up in the fridge, and the fresh flowers on your nightstand everyday. he'll never address it or come out to take credit for it, he'd just do it. the captain will shower you in kisses much more than usual, on your cheek, the top of your head, a small peck on your lips, he's much more affectionate as its the subtle way he expresses his love and worry for you.

when he needs comforting:

-law is not the kind of guy to talk about his problems. a lot of this is because he struggles with verbalizing his feelings, worries, and stresses, but also because he doesn't find any relief in it. you instantly know when the captain needs you by the way he asked for you to meet him in his office. the second the door closes, he's picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you so close to him, the faint scent of bourbon vanilla fills your nose as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

-there's nothing the captain loves more than the feeling of your fingers tangled up in his soft dark raven locks, with your face resting against his chest you can hear the way his heart beat slightly slows fully enjoying the sensation of your touch.

-law finds lots of solace in hearing your voice, it's simply music to his ears. he'll listen to stories about your past or adventures you've been on, rambles about your hobbies, what you did today, anything and everything. he loves the distraction it provides him as well as the comforting ambient noise it provides while he works.

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a/n: soft law my beloved 😭😭😭😭😭 i totally forgot the whole "when you're sick" section of this fic when i first posted it, so i panic wrote that shit so damn fast 💀 it's been a minute since i wrote one of these 😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

a/n: if you are interested in being added to my taglist: here's a google form!!!

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece trafalgar law #op trafalgar law #trafalgar law #one piece law #op law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x you #law fluff #fluff fic #via's fics

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rootedinrevisions · 17 hours ago

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Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met.

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you.

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go.

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm.

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life.

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure.

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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cupidhoons · 1 day ago

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KEEPING QUIET — SJY

in which . . . keeping quiet seems to be the hardest assignment yet — sjy x f! reader ୨୧ brother's bestfriend! au wc 875 ・ w kissing, SUGGESTIVE!! jake is a teasing little twat uhhh idk + likes n' feedback are greatly appreciated !

A/N 💌 please don't cancel me for making romance & tension in this fic for i am just a girl who writes fics for the people xx

THE EVENING WAS QUIET, a calm blanket of silence settling over the house as you huddled at your desk, surrounded by notes and open textbooks. Midterms were creeping up fast, and the thought of failing wasn’t an option. You were so focused on your work that you nearly missed the sound of your window sliding open.

You jumped slightly but relaxed as soon as you saw Jake—your brother's best friend, and your secret boyfriend—slipping into your room with that boyish grin of his. His eyes lit up when they met yours before giving a quick glance toward the door, fully aware of the risk he was taking.

“Jake, are you insane?” you whispered, barely able to contain the mix of annoyance and excitement in your voice. “If my brother finds out you’re here…”

Jake only smirked as he pressed a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet. "What can I say? Missed you too much to wait," he murmured softly, his voice low and teasing. He shut the window behind him and moved closer, his presence sending a thrill up your spine.

He settled in beside you, looking down at your notes with an exaggeratedly serious face as if he were actually interested. But his arm brushed against yours, and his eyes drifted away from the notes, focused solely on you. "So, how’s the studying going?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but his hand was already sliding to rest on your shoulder.

“Painful, thank you for asking,” you muttered, feigning annoyance even as your heart raced at his touch. You tried to keep your attention on the textbook, but Jake’s fingers lightly traced patterns along your shoulder, and his gaze was far too tempting.

Before you could say anything else, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You look stressed,” he whispered, his lips so close to your skin. “Maybe I can help you relax.”

“Jake,” you whispered in a warning tone, glancing nervously at the door. “My brother’s just down the hall. If he catches you here—”

“Then we’ll just have to be quiet,” he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, pulling you gently toward him, and despite every warning in your head, you let yourself melt into his touch.

His lips brushed against your jaw, soft and featherlight, trailing down to your neck as he shifted closer. You bit down on your lip, suppressing a sigh as his hands traced slow, lazy patterns along your back. He was everywhere at once—his fingers in your hair, his lips leaving sparks across your skin.

“Jake,” you breathed out. The tension of keeping quiet only added to the thrill, and he knew exactly how to keep you on edge.

“Don't worry, baby” he murmured, lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. You felt his grin against your skin, cocky and confident, and it made your pulse quicken. He pulled you closer, claiming your lips in a kiss that was slow and teasing. You tried to stay still, but every part of you was drawn to him, aching for more.

His hands roamed down your back, slipping under the hem of your shirt, and his every touch made your heart pace faster. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, his warmth spreading through you, but every nerve was also focused on staying silent, on not giving in to the urge to gasp or sigh.

You pulled back for a breath, eyes darting toward the door. "Jake, we’re going to get caught," you managed to whisper, but your voice sounded as breathless as you felt.

Jake just smirked, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Then we better be careful,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing rumble. He leaned in again, his kisses growing deeper, each one leaving you more breathless than the last. His fingers traced along your waist, his touch firm but gentle, as though he was savoring every second.

He pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his movements becoming bolder. You stifled a gasp as he traced along your jaw, his lips moving lower, but he was relentless, brushing his lips along every sensitive spot he knew would make you squirm.

The door creaked somewhere down the hall, and you froze, wide-eyed, but Jake only paused for a second, grinning as he held a finger to his lips. He placed a lingering kiss on your shoulder, his touch featherlight and teasing, before drawing back just enough to look at you, his eyes full of mischief.

“Guess I should probably get out of here soon, huh?” he whispered, although he didn’t seem to be in any rush to move. He held your gaze for a second longer, leaning in one last time, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that left you wanting more.

He pulled away with a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down your arm one last time. "Try to focus, alright?" he murmured with a grin, slipping back to the window. But he glanced back at you before he left, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he snuck into your room.

#۪ ࣪ 𓂃 ୨୧ 𓈒 ◌ MADEWiTHLOVE.#jake #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jake sim imagines #enhypen smau #sim jaeyun x reader #jake fluff #jake enhypen

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revelboo · 21 hours ago

Note

thank you again for all these wonderful stories 🙏 I was wondering if you'd ever consider writing something for Rumble? I have a big soft spot for the guy and I feel like he'd love finally being bigger than someone

Sure

Alcohol Eyes

IDW Rumble x Reader

• Frag, where’s Frenzy? And why had he let his twin talk him into this stupidity? A soft body brushes against him swaying with the thump of the heavy bass pulsing through the club, the flashing neon lights dazzling his optics. Around him costumed humans laugh and dance, bodies brushing against him, because to them he’s just another organic in a costume. He belongs and it’s such an odd feeling. Especially when little fingers catch his servos and turning he finds a human grinning up at him, a pair of crooked costume wings drooping on your back, one wing partially crushed.

• “Wow, you’re tall,” you laugh, clinging to the stranger’s hand. Somewhere behind you, there’s the sound of your ex calling your name and you tug at your new, big friend slipping between him and the guy hunting for you. As buzzy as you are, your ex is wasted and you have no intention of letting him get his rough hands on you ever again. You have enough scars for a lifetime. No, you’d rather take your chances with a complete stranger in a weirdly elaborate costume. “You went all out, huh?” Reaching up to slide your palm over what feels like metal panels. Wasn’t all that heavy and hot? The guy must be sweating in all that.

• Freezing, his lips part as the little human runs soft hands over him, head craning to smile up at him. And it’s so strange to have to look down at someone. Your expression becomes pinched as someone yells, then you’re reaching up and those unbelievably soft hands are cupping his helm to tug his head down. And a warm mouth suddenly presses against his, electric through him.

• That jerk is right there, bound to see you any moment so you pull the guy down to you and kiss him, praying your ex passes by. That this guy plays along. Not expecting for him to curl an arm around you to cup the back of your head or for the other big hand to grip your butt and drag you flush up against him. And those hands are warm as his mouth moves against yours, taking over the kiss and making it something demanding and hungry and deliciously unexpected.

• Primus, help him as you mold yourself to him, little hands clinging as your mouth opens to let him in, let him taste as his glossa explores, sliding against your tongue. His servos tangle in your hair, his other hand tightening on you to keep you from trying to escape, because whatever this is, he wants it to last. Growling when you break free, eyes hooded. “Slow down, sport,” your voice is lower, huskier as you nip at his bottom lip with a laugh, that sound going straight through him in a flush of need.

• “Don’t go,” he growls, big hands flexing against you as his already rough voice deepens. It’s not a request so much as a heated demand. And oh, it’s tempting. No one’s ever kissed you like that before, hungry and almost desperate. Reaching up, you curl your arms around his neck and his own arms tighten possessively around you. You’d come to the club alone, but if you have your way, your unwitting hero is coming home with you for a real thank you.

#rumble x reader #transformers x reader #IDW rumble

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coffeeshades · 2 days ago

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—true blue ⭑ part ii

summary: two strangers meet in a city of millions, only to discover they've been searching for each other all along.

pairing: pedro pascal x f!reader.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: age gap, angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, loneliness, nostalgia. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: happy reading <3

Several weeks had passed since Pedro’s last letter, and your heart had fallen into a state of quiet, private anguish. At first, you waved it off—surely, he was busy; perhaps work had claimed his attention. It was only reasonable, you told yourself. Your own days were heavy with work; your nights were weighed down by the kinds of dreams that stretch between waking and sleep.

You expected his silence would soon be broken.

But as each day drew to a close without word from him, your soul grew restless, your mind endlessly rehearsing the contents of your last letter. Did you overstep some invisible boundary? Did he, perhaps, see the words on the page and find them lacking?

It was a mad habit, replaying the messages, re-reading them through imagined eyes. Had you given yourself away too soon, foolishly assuming some intimacy that perhaps had never been there?

Resigned, you finally abandoned any hope of hearing from him again.

One bright Saturday in late autumn, you sought solace in Hyde Park. The air was brisk, threading itself with the scent of dying leaves. In one hand, you clutched a warm pumpkin flavored coffee, and in the other, the last book Pedro had given you, its spine softened by countless touches, as though he’d read it a hundred times before sending it on to you. The vibrant red of your cardigan caught the eyes of passersby, a bright, defiant spot against the muted colors of the late autumn landscape.

As you walked, you saw the shapes of couples in the distance, silhouettes tangled together as they strolled or lingered under trees. You were reminded of those precious, everyday moments—of your friend's comforting calls, your patients’ murmured thanks at the end of long days, the warmth of those early letters exchanged with Pedro. Each of these small flashes of light is a reminder that life held joy even amid decay.

Yet even those small joys paled in comparison to what Pedro had come to represent to you. He was more than just a light; he had become the sun, his warmth reaching some part of you long-buried, awakening hope you’d thought lost forever. You clung to that hope, fragile as it was, in your steps.

And then, as if conjured by some unseen will, he appeared.

You saw him, standing near a tree talking on his phone, dressed much the same as the first time you’d met, only this time his glasses were different. Your heart raced, a sudden jolt of fear gripping you. You shouldn’t be scared—you’d been writing to him for weeks. You’d spilled your guts on paper, sharing things with him you hadn’t told anyone else. Talking to him shouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

You kept walking, hoping to avoid him, but then you heard it. Your name—deliciously spoken in his voice, rich and deep. You stopped dead in your tracks, heart hammering in your chest.

Your footsteps slowed, your pulse quickening as you turned. There he was, hands tucked into his pockets, his smile just as soft, as if he’d known all along that you’d appear there on that same path.

“I thought that was you,” he said, taking a few steps toward you.

It was all you could do to muster a reply, your voice an unsteady whisper against the gusts of wind. “You’ve only seen me once,” you stammered, “and you remembered me?”

A laugh, gentle and reassuring, rumbled from him as he replied, “You’re hard to forget.”

“Oh.”

It was the only word you could manage, your brain still trying to process the fact that he was here, in front of you.

He glanced down at the book in your hand. “How’s it going?” he asked, nodding towards it.

“I’m halfway through already. It’s fast-paced,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual, even though your pulse was racing.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled again. “You going somewhere?”

You glanced around, desperate to avoid his intense gaze. His brown eyes were impossibly warm, pulling you in. “Not really,” you said. “Just walking.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

From there, conversation flowed, interrupted only by the brisk autumn breeze, as if you hadn’t already shared your deepest thoughts in letters. He asked about your work, and when you told him you worked in healthcare, he teased, “Could you be a little more specific?”

You laughed. “I’m a doctor, actually.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “No way. That’s impressive. Beauty and brains.”

You blushed. Did he just—did he compliment you?

“It’s no big deal. I applied for a residency here a while ago, and now… here I am.”

“Where’d you go to med school?” he asked.

“New York,” you said, smiling softly. “Lived there my whole life.”

“Why not stay there?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It sounds silly, but I always dreamed of escaping to somewhere new. Somewhere no one knew me.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

You laughed, glancing down at the ground. “Pretty lonely.”

He frowned. “Lonely?”

“Not much different from my life before,” you added quickly, feeling too exposed. You turned the conversation back to him. “What about you?”

“Uh, well, I’m…an actor,” he said with a shrug. “That's why I'm in London, filming a movie. Been here for a few months now.”

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the moment stretching out between you. You had to say it. It had been gnawing at you since that first encounter—this unspoken truth, hovering between the lines of every letter you’d exchanged.

“I... I know who you are, by the way,” you blurted out, the words rushing out faster than you intended.

Pedro raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, crooked smile. “Oh?”

You nodded, suddenly shy, feeling your face grow warm. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t sure at first. You look different, a little. But then when you signed the first letter with your name, I was like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s him.’ And then I didn’t want to ruin it or make things weird, so I didn’t say anything, but maybe I should’ve? I don’t know, I—”

You rambled on, your voice a frantic mess as the words stumbled over themselves. Pedro watched you, his eyes crinkling in amusement, letting you spiral out without interrupting. His quiet, steady presence only made you more flustered, the way he seemed so completely at ease, while you felt like you were falling over your own sentences like an idiot.

“Hey,” he said gently, cutting into your monologue. “Slow down. It’s okay.”

“Is it?” You sighed, feeling the ridiculousness of your own nervous energy. “I just don’t want you to think I’m only talking to you because of… you know. Who you are.”

He seemed unsurprised, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have kept this up if I thought it was just about… well, who I am,” he said, his tone softening. “Honestly, I was grateful for a reason to just… be myself.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relieved. “Thank you. It’s just… I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Pedro said, smiling again, but softer this time. “Actually, thank you for coming clean about it. If it makes you feel better, I knew you knew. I could tell.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”

“No, but I like that about you,” he said, eyes glinting with warmth. “You’re refreshingly honest, even when you’re rambling.”

Your nerves melted just a little at his words, and everything felt easy again, just like in the letters.

The walk turned into an invitation to lunch, and soon enough, you found yourselves tucked into a cozy corner table at a little restaurant nearby. The place was warm, with soft lighting and wooden beams overhead, the air carrying the scent of fresh bread and something savory cooking in the back. It was intimate, inviting.

Pedro picked up the menu, scanning it briefly before glancing at you with a playful grin. “So, what’s your go-to order? Something pumpkin-flavored, I’m guessing?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Ha ha. Only the coffee. But sure, I’ll embrace the autumn stereotype.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I had a pumpkin spice latte the other day—didn’t hate it.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I knew you were the type. All that rugged, cool guy persona? A front for your love of seasonal beverages.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

Lunch came, and so did the conversation between bites of food and sips of wine.

At one point, Pedro started telling a story about his first audition, a disaster that involved a broken chair and spilled coffee, and you nearly choked on your drink from laughing so hard.

“And then,” he said, shaking his head, “the casting director just looked at me, deadpan, and said, ‘Well, that was memorable.’”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, wiping your eyes. “I would have died.”

“I nearly did,” he said, grinning. “But hey, I got the part. Pity, probably.”

“Or charm,” you said, raising your glass. “Here’s to charming your way through life.”

He clinked his glass with yours, the sound soft, like the connection between you.

A nameless, delicate thing.

Laughter faded, and the conversation settled into a more vulnerable rhythm. The weight of what you had said in your letters hung between you, an acknowledgment that this was more than just books and thoughts shared on paper. It had become a bridge—fragile, intimate, but undeniably real.

“I know what that’s like,” you said, breaking the silence, your voice softer now. You swirled the last of your wine in the glass, staring at it like the answer might rise up in the reflection. “To try to mold yourself to fit into someone’s life. To make yourself pliable, digestible... because you love them. Because you want them to love you back. But I realized… that’s useless. You can change everything about yourself and still not be enough. So why betray yourself?”

Pedro’s, warm and deep eyes seemed to catch the weight of your words and hold them for a moment before he spoke. “That’s... yeah, I get that. More than I care to admit.”

You bit your lip, immediately feeling exposed. “I’m sorry,” you added quickly, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t mean to get all existential on you.”

He shook his head, his expression soft. “No, don’t apologize. It’s real. Honestly, it’s refreshing to talk about this stuff. It feels like people avoid these conversations, you know? Too much noise, not enough... depth.”

You nodded.

“And please don’t think I’m, like, dreadfully sad,” you added with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, yes, I am, but at the back of it, I promise there’s faith. There’s hope. And love. Lots of love.”

Pedro’s smile widened, just enough to deepen the creases at the corners of his eyes. "Same. I could tell from your letters."

"I don't know, I've always wanted this thing that's not quite love but something more."

“What is that?” he asked quietly, his voice dipping in a way that made the question feel more intimate, as if he already knew part of the answer.

You hesitated; the answer slipped out anyway. “To be understood.”

He didn’t speak right away, just took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. His face was a map of tiny details you had already memorized in your letters—his dark hair streaked with silver, the subtle patches of white in his beard, more prominent under the soft light of the restaurant. His eyes crinkled at the corners, even when he wasn’t smiling, like someone who’d spent a lifetime both laughing and crying deeply. He carried it all with him—his history written in the lines on his face, in the way his hands moved slowly, thoughtfully.

“You know,” he began, setting his glass down, his voice low but steady, “there’s something from one of your letters that’s been stuck with me. When you wrote: ‘All I’ve ever known of love is how to live without it. I just can’t seem to find it.”

Your breath caught in your chest. You remembered writing those words late one night, fingers trembling as your pen hit the paper, thinking it might be too much to share. But now, hearing it come back to you in his voice, you realized it had struck him, too. Maybe he had been holding onto it, turning it over in his mind, just as you had.

“That…” he trailed off, shaking his head, his gaze falling to the table for a moment as if searching for the right words. “That hit me. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

You swallowed.

Pedro’s eyes met yours again, and this time, there was a quiet intensity behind them. “I do feel like that too,” he said simply. “I’ve felt that way for a long time.”

There was a pause. Not the awkward kind, but the heavy kind—the kind where things shift, where you realize the other person is carrying the same scars you’ve spent a lifetime hiding.

“I’ve always been good at feeling things deeply,” he continued, his voice growing quieter, more reflective. “Too deeply, maybe. And with love… it’s like this paradox, you know? You want to be loved for who you are, but you end up bending yourself into knots, just trying to be enough for someone else. And when it doesn’t work, you wonder what you did wrong. Why you weren’t enough.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand through his dark hair, the streaks of white catching in the light. “I’ve been in relationships where I thought, ‘This is it, this is love,’ but it wasn’t. I was just... fitting myself into someone else’s idea of love. And I don’t think I’ve ever let someone really see me. Not like this.”

You sat in silence for a moment, his words hanging in the air between you. There was something profoundly human about his confession. He wasn’t just a famous face or a larger-than-life presence. He was a person, flawed and searching, just like you.

“I think that’s what scares me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That maybe I’ve never been seen either. Not really.”

Pedro looked at you then, and there was something in his eyes that made your heart thud harder in your chest—a softness, a recognition, like he understood you in ways you hadn’t even begun to understand yourself.

“I see you,” he said quietly, his voice steady, no trace of hesitation.

You blinked, feeling your throat tighten, not trusting yourself to speak. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The world outside the restaurant—Hyde Park with its autumn chill, the bustling streets of London—faded away. It was just the two of you sitting at that small table, the space between you shrinking.

Pedro leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “And what if,” he said, his voice low, “what if love isn’t something you have to find? What if it’s already here? In these moments, in the quiet spaces between words?”

Your heart fluttered, the weight of his gaze anchoring you to the moment. He wasn’t just talking about love as an abstract concept. He was talking about this—the connection between you, the letters, the words that had brought you both to this place.

And suddenly, you realized that you weren’t just yearning for love. You were already in it, knee-deep, feeling everything so deeply you hadn’t even noticed.

You smiled, a soft, tentative thing. “Maybe we’re both learning what love looks like.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t alone in your search.

You were here, in the mess of it. And that was enough.

a/n: don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and remember my ask is always open, would love to hear your thoughts!

next part should be up soon!!

#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal rpf #my writing

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